#hindi(?) i believe? i might be wrong on hindi but

[baekchelor]

Off Script

pairings: Drew Starkey x reader genre: romantic comedy rating: pg13 synopsis: on the set of his new film, Drew Starkey, discovers an undeniable truth: that the line between fiction and reality is thinner than he ever imagined.

◄ ᴘʀᴇᴠ

One | Star-Crossed from the Start

The first read-through for Dharma takes place three weeks later at a film studio in Los Angeles. Although Drew let Maddie crash at his place last night, he didn’t even bother to say goodbye when he slipped out of the apartment early that morning. She was still fast asleep on the wrong side of the bed, and he had no reason to stay. He liked to be early, and leaving a pot of coffee ready on the kitchen counter didn’t fit with a no-strings-attached situation.

When Drew arrives, the only people there are Greta Gerwig and a few staffers. The crowd outside, however, is another story—his fans have gathered, screaming declarations of love and waving signs.

“Y/N’s not here yet,” Drew remarks as his tired blue eyes scan the room. He’d hoped to catch her before the reading. Since they hadn’t done a chemistry test, he wanted a chance to introduce himself before diving into the scene.

“She’ll show,” Alma reassures him with a knowing smile, already handing him a cup of coffee like she does every morning. Drew chuckles—his manager’s predictability is comforting. “I heard Joe Burrow’s private jet landed from Cincinnati last night.”

That gets a laugh out of Drew. Alma’s a great manager, but she’s also the biggest gossip in Hollywood. When she called to tell him he’d landed the part in Dharma, she filled him in on every juicy detail the media had published about Y/N and Joe Burrow’s notoriously private relationship.

Alma shrugs, feigning innocence as she watches him sip his coffee. Lowering her voice to a whisper meant only for his ears, she adds, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept with him last night. But she won’t be sleeping in.”

Drew raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Alma’s lips curl into a sleepy yawn. “Apparently, she’s always on the dot. Never early, never late.”

Amused, Drew checks his phone. Nine o'clock. “Thirty more minutes, then,” he says, placing the phone down next to his script. “Let’s time her.” Alma chuckles, shaking her head, and Drew plays it cool, pretending to savor his coffee with exaggerated delight before flipping open the script.

Dharma is set in 1857 India. The story focuses on Aakesh, a penniless Hindi boy—played by Dev Patel—who believes his low social status is a consequence of bad karma from a past life. Y/N is playing Marina, a wealthy Spaniard, whom Aakesh imagines to be his reincarnated lost love, the very person responsible for his quest to redeem his karma. Drew’s character, James Barlow, comes into the picture when Colonel Edmund Thorn (portrayed by Michael Fassbender), Marina’s concerned fiancé, assigns him as her personal guard when the Indian rebellion ensues. James and Marina fall in love.

As Drew thumbs through the middle of the script, where the plot thickens, it hits him just how demanding this role will be. His character’s love for Marina is expressed not through words, but through quiet, intense glances and subtle gestures—he’ll need to convey a deep, unspoken devotion, stronger than anything he’s played before.

INT. JAMES' ROOM - MIDNIGHT, 1857 The room is cloaked in darkness, save for a faint sliver of moonlight that slips through the heavy curtains. The shadows of two figures are etched upon the wall, their forms entwined in a moment that feels both eternal and fleeting. MARINA, delicate and ethereal in her simple nightgown, stands enveloped in the arms of JAMES. Her braided hair spills over her shoulders, catching the pale light. She is a vision of vulnerability, her small frame trembling against his solid, unyielding presence. JAMES, his eyes shut tight, clings to her as though she might vanish into the night. His grip tightens, his heart pounding as if it might burst from his chest. The air is thick with the weight of unspoken words and the ache of impending separation. MARINA (whispering, her voice trembling) I do love you. Tears slip silently down her cheeks, glistening in the moonlight. She does not sob, but the quiet sorrow in her voice is enough to shatter the stillness. MARINA (softly, almost pleading) I am in love with you. James exhales sharply, as though her words have struck him to his core. His eyes remain closed, but he leans down, pressing his lips to the crown of her head in a kiss that lingers—a silent vow, a desperate plea. His hand rises to cradle her face, his touch tender yet urgent. He tilts her chin upward, his lips hovering just above hers, the space between them charged with longing. The kiss begins softly, a tentative brush of lips that speaks of reverence and fear. But then, as if some unseen force has unleashed their restraint, it deepens. Their mouths meet with a hunger that defies reason, a desperate attempt to hold onto what they know they must soon lose. Marina’s tears mingle with the kiss, but neither pulls away. The moment is too precious, too fragile. JAMES (whispering against her lips, his voice trembling) I shall return to you. I swear it. There is a pause, heavy and suffocating. The room seems to hold its breath, the distance between their hearts already widening despite the closeness of their bodies. JAMES (voice breaking, barely audible) I love you.

The words hang in the air, soft yet final, as though this moment is all they will ever have. The moonlight bathes them in its cold glow, a silent witness to a love that dares not speak its name.

Drew closes his eyes, trying to immerse himself in character. He imagines speaking to someone he desperately loves, picturing Maddie—her thick, ash-blonde hair, her smiling eyes, the pink warmth of her cheeks, and the heat of her mouth when they kiss.

It feels almost like cheating, though, because his character is supposed to be in love with Marina, and though Maddie is a girl he enjoys spending time with, he’s not in love with her.

Drew sighs, the breath escaping him in a long, labored stream.

“Everything all right?” The voice is sweet, with a slight upward lilt—a little hesitant but trying not to show it.

Drew looks up. There she is. Y/N Y/L/N stands before him, dark-haired and flushed, her shy expression soft and warm.

“Oh, hello there,” Drew says, shaking himself from his thoughts. He stands and extends a hand, his smile easy but his eyes curious. “Drew.”

“I know,” she giggles, shaking his hand. Her palm is warm, while his is cool. “Y/N. I’m very, very pleased to meet you.”

Drew feels a bit sheepish at that, though he tries not to show it. “Likewise,” he says, his voice warm as their hands fall back to their sides.

“Drew’s been pacing around all morning,” Alma cuts in, her tone dry but teasing as she steps forward. She extends her hand to Y/N, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of them. “I’m Alma, by the way—Drew’s manager, babysitter, and occasional therapist.”

Y/N laughs, a bright, genuine sound that seems to light up the room. “Nice to meet you, Alma. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“You have no idea,” Alma says, shooting Drew a pointed look before turning back to Y/N with a smirk. “But don’t worry, he’s on his best behavior today. Mostly.”

Drew rolls his eyes, though there’s no real annoyance in it. “Thanks, Alma. Really selling me here.”

Y/N's eyes twinkle as she shrugs, playfully coy, “Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse.” Her tight little skirt, which Drew is sure Daisy owns too, looks far better on Y/N. “Look at us getting along,” she says, her eyes transforming into crescent moons. “I must confess, I came prepared to break the ice.” She pauses, pursing her lips, then laughs. “Sorry, that sounded like we’re going on a blind date or something.”

Drew laughs too—her giggles are infectious, and it is kind of funny. “We kinda are? We’re playing star-crossed lovers and didn’t even do a chemistry test. I’m pretty much going into this blind.”

“Aren’t we?” Y/N says, clearly relieved to find someone in the same boat. “I was talking to Dev earlier—apparently, he thinks we’ll have great chemistry.”

Drew chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “My friend Chase said the same thing. He’s convinced we’ll be the next big on-screen couple.” He pauses, his tone turning teasing. “Though I think Joe might have something to say against it.”

Y/N laughs, her hand instinctively flying to the “J” pendant hanging from her necklace. “Oh, please. Joe doesn’t care about Hollywood gossip. Especially not during football season.” 

Drew raises an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. “You sure about that?” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t fade. “Trust me, he’s fine. If anything, he’d probably just joke about it and say I’m downgrading from a Super Bowl champion to… well, you.” 

Drew clutches his chest in mock offense. “Ouch. And here I thought we were bonding. Guess I’ll have to step up my game.” 

Y/N grins, her fingers still brushing the pendant. “Good luck with that. He’s kind of a big deal.”

 Drew leans forward, his tone playful but curious. “Big enough to handle sharing you with the world for a few months? Because if this movie hits—and it will—you and I are going to be everywhere.” 

Y/N’s smile softens, and she shrugs. “He’ll be fine.” 

Drew nods, his expression thoughtful. “Fair enough. But if he starts giving me the stink eye at premieres, I’m blaming you.” 

Y/N laughs, her hand dropping from the pendant. “Deal. But don’t worry—he gives the stink eye to everyone.” 

Before Drew can respond, Greta chimes in, appearing seemingly from nowhere. “I knew you’d have natural chemistry,” she says, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s cheek. “Still on time, huh? You never change.”

“It’s all on Sal,” Y/N giggles, referring to Salvatore, her very Italian manager who’s laughing in the far corner, talking to the staff. Drew is only half-listening, his mind still occupied with Y/N's easy charm. He can’t seem to shake the feeling that she has some sort of magnetic presence.

The conversation shifts toward Y/N's last movie, The Selection, where she and Tom Holland bring the bestselling book to life. Drew remembers vaguely that Holland plays a prince, while Y/N's character competes for his heart. It’s not Drew’s kind of movie—he’s pretty sure it’s a bit cringe-worthy—but for some odd reason, he’s decided to watch it when he gets home. Maybe Maddie won’t be there, and he’ll grab some beer and popcorn, settling into the couch for a few hours of forgettable entertainment.

Drew checks his phone discreetly. Nine thirty-five. He and Y/N have been talking for about five minutes. He smirks inwardly.

Right on the dot, he thinks, recalling Alma’s words. Then he hears his name.

“Pardon?” Drew asks, a little startled.

Y/N smiles sheepishly. “I’m going to go sit with Dev. Catch up with you later?”

“Yeah, of course,” Drew says, his tone betraying a hint of reluctance,“Do what you need to do.”

Greta calls for everyone to take their seats around the actors’ table. By luck, Dev and Y/N’s seats are right across from the one labeled Starkey. Drew slides into his chair and places his phone back on the table.

As Y/N walks toward Dev, she turns over her shoulder with a playful smile. “Talk to you later, then, Heartbreak Prince.”

“Heartbreak Prince?” he says, flipping back to the first page of the script. He folds the cover back neatly, his eyes asking the question.

Y/N gestures toward the window where the sound of fans chanting his name still echoes through the street. “Seems fitting.”

Drew laughs softly,“Seems fair.” Then, rubbing his palm over the script, he decides, on a whim, to give her a nickname, too. But he abandons the idea last minute. So, he just laughs.

“Okay,” she says, walking backwards, her hands entwined. “Let’s have fun today, Heartbreak Prince.”

EXT. GARDEN - MORNING, 1857 The garden is a sanctuary of tranquility, bathed in the soft golden light of the morning sun. Tall palm trees stand sentinel at the edges, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. At the center, a grand basin of emerald water glistens, its surface catching the light like a jewel. Paths lined with blooming pink roses wind through the garden, their fragrance perfuming the air. The scene is serene, almost otherworldly, as though time itself has paused to admire its beauty. EDMUND and MARINA stroll side by side, their steps unhurried, their presence a quiet harmony. Edmund’s hands are clasped behind his back, his posture upright yet relaxed. His gaze is tender, fixed upon Marina with an affection that is both gentle and unwavering. Marina walks with her eyes lowered, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. A soft, almost shy smile plays upon her lips, betraying the contentment she feels in this shared moment. As they walk, Edmund’s eyes catch sight of a single blossom clinging to a nearby tree. He pauses, bending gracefully to pluck it from its branch. He holds it out to Marina, his smile warm and sincere. EDMUND (softly, with admiration) No flower in this garden is as fair as my beloved. Marina’s gaze lifts to meet his, her smile deepening as she accepts the blossom. Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, but carries the weight of genuine feeling. MARINA (gently) And no heart in this world is as kind as thine. The words hang in the air, sweet and sincere. Yet, unbeknownst to her, in but a few weeks, she will come to learn the bitter truth of her own words. Edmund halts their walk, his expression growing more earnest. He gently takes her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. With deliberate care, he presses her hand to his chest, right over his heart. His gaze never wavers from hers. EDMUND (solemnly) This heart is no longer mine. It is thine. His voice is steady, but there is a depth of emotion in his words that cannot be ignored. He pauses, as if to ensure she feels the truth of his declaration. EDMUND (continuing, his tone softer) In all my thirty years, no woman has laid claim to it. But you, Marina... you have claimed it entirely.

Marina looks up at him, her eyes searching his. For a moment, the world around them fades—the garden, the breeze, the distant rustle of leaves. There is only the two of them, and the unspoken promise that hangs between their intertwined hands.

A spark of love passes between them, silent yet undeniable. The moment is tender, fragile, and brimming with the hope of what could be.

“Flirty Thirty.”

A gleam in her eye, a quirk of her lip, and it’s no longer Marina speaking. It’s Y/N, tittering playfully.

The room erupts in laughter. Drew laughs the hardest of all, his amusement genuine.

“Y/N,” Greta chides half-heartedly, her tone more fond than strict. “Don’t break character.”

“Sorry, G,” Y/N replies sweetly, her smile full of innocent mischief. “I just thought I’d break the ice.”

Somehow, Drew finds himself smiling too.

_

Today marks the fourth official Dharma read-through, and the tenth time they’ve gone over the entire script. Drew understands why Y/N is antsy; he feels it too. He can’t wait to start filming in Mumbai—to inhale the chaotic, spicy air of the streets, to hear the fast-paced hum of Hindi in the background. He’s eager to feel James settle in his bones, the character enveloping him, becoming flesh and blood with each take.

The fact is, read-throughs are dull. So damn repetitive. Drew is just glad he has the perfect distraction in Y/N to make things bearable.

Gerwig sighs in resignation. “Let’s break for lunch,” she announces, addressing the entire group. “Reconvene in an hour.”

Drew catches Y/N’s eye and mouths, Padella? Y/N nods vigorously, flashing two thumbs up and a bright, infectious smile—the one Drew’s grown especially fond of.

“I'm starving,” Drew mutters a few minutes later as they walk toward the nearest Italian restaurant.

“Same here,” Y/N agrees, grinning. “Two more read-throughs, then India, here we come!”

“But we go through the script three times each meeting,” Drew half-whines, half-sniggers at Y/N’s dramatic eye-roll. “We’ll probably take even longer than usual today because of your little adlib.”

“Sorry...” Y/N shrugs playfully.

“It was fun, though.” Drew’s hand instinctively reaches to ruffle the hair at the top of Y/N’s head. He’s not sure why he does it, but the impulse is too strong to resist. He just hopes it doesn’t make her uncomfortable. “Not a lot of laughs in this love story of ours.”

Y/N doesn’t bother smoothing down her messy hair. “Have you ever loved someone that much?”

“Uhm…” Drew hesitates, his fingers instinctively brushing through his fringe. He can feel the strands falling just a little too long, and the thought of needing a trim before the live shoots nags at him. Shifting uncomfortably, his gaze drops for a moment before meeting Y/N's eyes again. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly, his voice softening. “Their love… it’s not something you see every day. It’s like—I don’t know—it’s hard to even describe.”

He pauses, his mind drifting to the script, to the quiet intensity of James and Marina’s connection.

“It’s the kind of love that consumes you, you know? It’s not just about passion or romance—it’s deeper than that.”

He doesn't comment further, Drew’s thoughts are already elsewhere. He’s thinking about Y/N, about the way their own dynamic has started to blur the lines between fiction and reality.

“Yeah,” Y/N murmurs, watching him absently. Her voice is soft, almost wistful, as if she’s caught in the same current of thought. “It is.”

He wants to say something, to break the silence, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he offers a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that she returns with a quiet understanding.

When they reach the restaurant, the waiter, clearly a fan of Y/N’s, greets them enthusiastically.

“You two are so good-looking,” she gushes, but Drew knows the compliment is aimed at Y/N. The waiter, whose name tag reads Flo, is just being polite by including him in the praise. “You get more and more dashing every time I see you.” Y/N offers her the prettiest smile, and Flo beams, thrilled at the reaction she got out of her. Drew would be thrilled too if Y/N smiled at him that way...

<<What?>>

Padella has become a familiar haunt. After the first read-through—when Drew discovered Y/N’s favorite food was any type of pasta—it became their regular spot. Always ordering something new to try and two glasses of wine. Not exactly keeping in line with their diets, but Drew figures these cheat days won’t hurt.

In record time, Flo brings their dishes, leaving a courtesy starter on the table. Drew twirls his fork through the fettuccini, the satisfying, gooey sound as the pomodoro sauce mixes with the pasta making his mouth water.

“Oh, right, if I may,” Drew says. Y/N hums in response, mixing the contents of her own plate. “Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? I’m having dinner with Madelyn Clyne—she’s a very good friend of mine—and she’s cooking carbonara.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N looks up from her dish, her mouth practically watering at the thought of her favorite food. “She won’t mind me crashing your dinner?”

“No,” Drew replies, slouching over his bowl. “She asked me to invite you.”

“Really?” Her brown eyes widen a little in surprise. “Why?”

A mouthful of bolognese slides into Drew’s mouth with a slurp. “I might’ve mentioned your love for Italian food.”

Y/N takes a sip of her rosé. “Won’t you mind me crashing your dinner?”

“Nah,” he smiles, though his heart gives a small, unexpected flutter. “We’re friends.” He swallows the food he’s been chewing on the side of his cheek, then tries to avoid her eyes. “I kind of like hanging out with you.”

“Oh,” she answers instantly, so casual, yet pink paints her cheeks. Drew adores it. “I kind of like hanging out with you, too.”

Drew glances up at her then, and they share a knowing smile before going back to their food. The pasta is oily, red, a little salty. Drew knows he’ll need to brush his teeth and throw a box of mints into his mouth before they return to the read-through, but right now, he doesn’t care. The food is delicious.

Their comfortable silence is interrupted when Y/N’s phone rings from inside her bag. She pulls it out, glances at the screen, then gestures to Drew that she’s going to take the call outside.

"I’ll be right back.” 

Drew nods as she answers the phone and walks toward the door.

"Hey, Joe," he hears her say as she slips outside.

Burrow, he thinks, poking another strand of fettuccini into his mouth.

Fleetingly, he wonders if he should tell Y/N to bring Joe along—after all, it’s a friendly dinner. But the thought drifts away when Flo comes by their table to offer more wine. The question doesn’t resurface, not even when Y/N strolls back in from her private call. Joe is in Cincinnati anyway.

_

In her pale silk blouse and snug skirt—the same one Y/N owns—Maddie looks every bit as stunning as she does in her basic house ads. Drew has to admit it. Yet, there’s a faint itch of discomfort when he looks at her, something that nags at him. To distract himself, he shifts his attention to the other Madelyn in the room: the friend, not the fling.

She’s setting down a plate of sourdough bread on his dinner table, her hair tied back in a casual ponytail. Drew watches her lazily, admiring the elegant table setting. It looks like something out of a high-end restaurant—far superior to Padella’s.

“Since when did you become a chef?” he teases, his tone playful. Madelyn giggles, her focus entirely on the preparations. She wants everything to be perfect—no, better than perfect.

Only then does Drew glance back at his lover, noticing she’s staring at him, her pretty red lips forming a pout.

“Why not?” she asks, her voice tinged with frustration. Drew resists the urge to roll his eyes, too polite to indulge the impulse. He lets her continue her little tantrum. “You know I had a poster of Joe Burrow in my old dorm, right? The whole time I was in university?” Drew gives a barely perceptible nod, though he knows she’s lying. There’s no way she knew who Joe Burrow was back then. “So, please, please, please, please… Please, Drew. Let me meet his girlfriend, hmm?”

“No,” he replies flatly. The hurt in Maddie’s green eyes tells him he’s been too harsh. He reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she lets him, her lips curling into a small, sweet smile. “I’ll get jealous, baby,” he lies, trying to soften the blow.

She laughs, hiding her face as it flushes a flattering shade of crimson. She’s always been easily flattered by such comments, though Drew doesn’t quite understand why. After all, they’re not a couple.

“Okay,” she says, circling the table. Her fingers lace into Drew’s as she settles onto his lap, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll get going then. Call me later?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pecking the tip of her nose. Her eyelashes flutter in response.

The moment Maddie leaves, her namesake, Madelyn, pops her head out from the kitchen.

“You know, Joe Burrow is my crush too,” Madelyn says, her tone light and teasing. Drew isn’t sure if she’s mocking him or if she means it.

“Why is every girl I know infatuated with him?” Drew asks, half-exasperated, half-amused.

Madelyn shrugs, a playful smirk on her lips. “He’s the most handsome quarterback in the league. What’s not to like?”

Before Drew can retort further, the doorbell rings. His eyes flick instinctively to the wall clock. 8 PM. Right on time.

“She’s here,” Madelyn says, her tone casual but warm. She smooths her hair back once, a quick and effortless gesture, before heading to the kitchen to finish setting the table.

Drew walks to answer the door as Madelyn places the pasta on the table. Y/N stands in the corridor, a bottle of red wine in hand.

“Look who decided to show up,” Drew says, leaning against the doorframe with a grin. “And here I thought you’d gotten lost on the way.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head as she steps inside. “You wish. I’m always on time, Starkey.” She rises on her tiptoes to hug him in greeting, and Drew chuckles, taking the wine. As she steps back, her necklace—the one with the “J” pendant—gets tangled with his earpiece. She laughs, but Drew hates it. He hates that “J” around her neck almost as much as he hates everyone’s obsession with Burrow.

“Right on time, as always,” he says, his tone teasing but his smile genuine.

“Come on in,” Drew adds, waving her inside. “Madelyn’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

Y/N steps into the living room, her warm smile spreading evenly across her face. “Hey, Madelyn. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Madelyn turns from the table, her expression relaxed and welcoming. “Hey, Y/N. Likewise. Drew’s told me a lot about you.”

“Hopefully all good things,” Y/N replies with a laugh, her tone easy and friendly.

“Mostly,” Madelyn teases, shooting Drew a quick glance.

_

Save for a few streaks of pancetta, the serving plates look as though they’ve been licked clean.

“That was incredible, Mads. The best carbonara I’ve ever had,” Y/N compliments the cook. “Thanks for letting me try it.”

“Anytime,” Madelyn replies, her smile warm and genuine. Drew smiles at her, pouring both women another glass of wine.

The night has gone well. Madelyn, ever the outgoing host, wasted no time making Y/N feel at home. She’d seated her next to Drew at the table, and the conversation had flowed effortlessly. At one point, they drifted into a lively discussion about last week’s Bengals at Chargers game, which Madelyn had attended.

“That touchdown Burrow threw in the third quarter was insane,” Madelyn says, her eyes lighting up as she recounts the play. “The way he dodged that sack and still managed to get the ball to Chase—it was unreal.”

Y/N nods, her expression a mix of pride and amusement. “Yeah, he’s something else. I still don’t know how he does it. Every time I think he’s about to go down, he pulls off some ridiculous play.”

Drew, who has been quietly sipping his wine, can’t help but chuckle. “Sounds like you’re describing a superhero, not a quarterback.”

Madelyn laughs. “That game was wild, though. The Chargers almost had him a couple of times.”

“Almost,” Y/N says with a smirk.

Madelyn raises her glass in mock salute. “Touché. How many games have they won in a row?”

“Ten,” Y/N replies, her smile unwavering. “I hope they keep it going. He’s not exactly fun to be around when they lose,” she adds with a laugh.

“I can imagine,” Madelyn says, joining in the laughter.

_

Drew offers Y/N the last bit of burgundy in the bottle. When she declines, he pours it for himself.

“So, Y/N,” Madelyn says, leaning back in her chair with a relaxed smile, “what’s it like dating a quarterback in postseason? Does Joe ever turn it off, or is it all football, all the time?”

Y/N laughs, her tone light and easy. “Oh, he tries to turn it off, but it’s hard. It’s kind of endearing, honestly.”

Drew can’t quite put his finger on it, but he thinks she’s lying. It’s not endearing—not really. There’s something in her voice, a faint edge that makes him wonder if she’s trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“So he just never … relax?”

“Sometimes,” Y/N says, her smile softening, her gaze lingering on what Drew presumes are those rare moments Joe isn’t talking football. “But it takes a lot to get him out of football mode. I have to remind him that there’s more to life than touchdowns and interceptions. Like, you know, me.”

She says it without any bite, but Drew can tell it hurts her. There’s a quiet resignation in her tone, a hint of something she’s not saying.

Drew swirls the wine in his glass, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

“It can be,” Y/N admits with a laugh, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “But I don’t mind. He’s worth it.”

Is he? Drew thinks, the question slipping into his mind before he can stop it. He doesn’t say it out loud, but the way Y/N’s smile falters for just a second makes him wonder if she’s asking herself the same thing.

Madelyn nods, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. It’s not easy being with someone who’s that driven.”

 “Exactly. But when he’s not in football mode, he’s actually really sweet.”

Drew raises an eyebrow, his tone teasing but with a hint of something sharper underneath, “Lucky guy,” he says, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something he quickly masks by taking a sip of his wine. Blue eyes lingering on Y/N for a beat too long.

“Okay, enough football talk,” Drew says, clearing his throat. He tells himself it’s not jealousy that makes him speak up, but the way his jaw tightens betrays him. He reaches into his pocket for his cigarettes. “I’m just gonna step out for a smoke. Anyone care to join me?”

Madelyn’s face pinches in disapproval. “I wish you’d quit. Those things are horrible for you.”

“Just one,” he bargains, his tone sweet as honey. He pats his belly, producing a compact sound. “I need it. You fed me too well, Mads.”

Y/N snickers, and Madelyn rolls her eyes. Pointedly, she asks, “Do you smoke?”

“Sometimes,” Y/N admits. “But keep it a secret. Joe would kill me.”

Drew raises an eyebrow, his tone teasing but with an edge that makes Y/N’s cheeks flush. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Come on, keep me company.”

Y/N hesitates, glancing at Madelyn, who shrugs. “Go ahead. I’ll clean up here.”

“Fine,” Y/N says, standing up. “Lead the way.”

_

They take the elevator down to the pool area on the fifth floor, where smoking is permitted. He offers her a cigarette, but she declines, so Drew places one between his lips, holding his lighter in front of it until the flame ignites.

Y/N takes a long look at him, the wind tousling his hair across his forehead, the cigarette glowing between his lips. She almost reaches out to touch his face, her fingertips lingering near his stubble, but she decides against it. Instead, she brushes his hair back into place. “I love your earpiece.”

“Thanks,” Drew exhales, his blue eyes locked on hers as smoke curls into a diaphanous ribbon. “So, everything’s going well with Joe, huh?”

Y/N tears her gaze away, her voice softer now. “You say that like you know for sure.”

“Alma likes gossip,” Drew says, licking his lips. They taste of wine and olives.

The girl shrugs, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “It’s been a little chaotic.”

“Oh?” Drew blows a few smoke rings, rounding out his mouth and flicking his tongue to create the hole in the center. “Mind if I ask why?”

“Football season, this movie…” Y/N rushes to answer, her words tumbling out as if she’s been holding them back. “I’d rather not talk about it. Sometimes it’s just… hard to make it work, you know?”

There’s a pause, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. Drew studies her, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. Without thinking, he makes an offer he didn’t realize was on the table. “Whenever it doesn’t work,” he says, his voice low and steady, “you should just hang out with me.” He quickly adds, “And Mads. Me and Mads.”

Y/N looks at him, her eyes searching his for something he can’t quite name. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the silence stretching thin but not uncomfortable. Finally, she smiles, a small, tentative thing that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I might take you up on that.” There's a pause, and then she says, “But I’m flying to Cincinnati tomorrow, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

Drew nods, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long before he takes another drag of his cigarette. “When you're back,” he says, his tone light but his words carrying a weight that surprises even him. “You know where to find me.”

Y/N watches him smoke in silence for a few more minutes, the faint glow of the cigarette casting fleeting shadows across his face. When she yawns, Drew stubs it out, the ember dying with a faint hiss. He steps closer, his arm looping around her waist almost instinctively.

Unconsciously, she leans into the touch, her shoulder brushing against his chest. “It’s weird,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, “that we didn’t know each other two months ago.”

Drew’s lips curve into a faint smile, though his eyes remain thoughtful. “Really weird,” he concedes, his voice low and tinged with something she can’t quite place. He’s slightly buzzed from the wine, the edges of his thoughts blurring, but there’s a clarity in this moment that feels undeniable. “But I’m glad it’s two months later.”

Y/N tilts her head, studying him. The faintest hint of a smile plays on her lips, but there’s a question in her eyes, one she doesn’t voice. Instead, she says, “You’re not so bad yourself, Drew. For a guy who hates Joe Burrow.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “I don’t hate him. I just… don’t get the obsession.”

“Maybe you’re just jealous,” she teases, her tone light but her gaze steady.

“Maybe,” he admits, surprising himself. His hand shifts slightly against her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her blouse. “Or maybe I'm just more of a Patrick Mahomes type of guy.”

Y/N’s breath catches, just for a moment, before she laughs softly, the sound mingling with the cool night air. “Careful, Drew. You're talking about my boyfriend's worst enemy.”

“I am,” he laughs, his voice dropping lower. “But I’ll let you decide if I mean it.”

She looks at him then. “You’re full of surprises,” she says finally, her voice soft but steady. “I’ll give you that.”

Drew’s smile deepens, and he doesn’t pull away. “Stick around, Y/N. You might find there’s more where that came from.”

_

She returns from Cincinnati the morning of their second-to-last script reading, the “J” necklace still clinging to her neck like a stubborn reminder.

Nonetheless, in the days leading up to Mumbai, dinners at Drew’s become a regular occurrence. Every other night, Y/N shows up with something to contribute to the table: a bottle of wine, a box of pastries, a six-pack of beer, a flour-dusted baguette wrapped in paper, or even a basket of fresh fruit.

Sometimes, Madelyn joins them, and the conversation flows effortlessly, like blood through veins. But more often than not, Y/N excuses herself early, citing a late-night or early-morning flight back to Cincinnati. Drew pretends he doesn’t care, though the empty chair beside him feels heavier than it should.

Other times, when Madelyn is out with her boyfriend and the other Maddie isn’t bombarding Drew with texts—asking him to dine with her, catch a movie, or join her at the theater—or when it’s not Sunday, Thursday, or Monday football, Y/N and Drew find themselves alone. On those rare occasions, they chat idly until the wee hours of the morning. The ice in their drinks crackles and melts, diluting the colors of their beers as they delve into childhood dreams, the winding trajectories of their careers, and the shared fears of an industry that chews up and spits out even the brightest stars. They laugh about their management teams, who have long since given up on damage control when it comes to their love lives.

Drew tells her more about Alma—caring, candid Alma—and Chase, his co-star turned best friend. In turn, Y/N opens up about Joe, her voice softening as she speaks.

“It’s not always easy,” she admits, her gaze dropping to her glass. “I mean, he’s amazing—driven, passionate, everything you’d expect from someone like him. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’m competing with football for his attention. And football always wins.”

She also opens up about how the pressure and expectations of both their careers harm their relationship—and the fact that her dad loathes him.

"Keep that to yourself," Y/N adds after a brief lull, her voice softer now. "I’ve never told anyone about it."

"They won’t hear it from me," Drew swears, taking a gulp of his watered-down Pilsner. He doesn’t even tell Chase.

_

Dharma begins its live shoots three months after the first read-through. Y/N and Drew are scheduled to film in Mumbai for three months, but Alma informs Drew it’s likely they’ll extend to four due to Greta Gerwig’s infamous obsessive compulsiveness. Her actors often end up filming simple scenes over and over for days, all because the director doesn’t think the natural light, the color of a couch, or the overall feeling is quite right.

“Already cleared it with the boss,” Alma shares brightly. She means the head of his management, who happens to adore Drew—as all CEOs adore their biggest star.

“Fine with me,” Drew says with a shrug. “I don’t mind staying in Mumbai a little longer.” He’s worked with far less pleasant directors than Greta before, and a little OCD won’t take the fun out of filming with Y/N.

He’s pleased to discover she feels the same way.

“Let’s press for four months,” Y/N says as they climb into the luxury car waiting for them at the airport. Her voice is calm, almost serene, as though the chaos of screaming fans outside the vehicle doesn’t exist. But Drew barely notices the noise; his attention is fixed on the absence of the “J” around her neck. “I can’t wait to discover India. Have you ever been?”

“Never,” Drew replies, sliding off his sunglasses and running a hand through his hair. He glances at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “But I’m looking forward to it. Especially if you’re the one leading the tour.”

Y/N’s eyes soften.

Quietly, with her voice carrying a warmth that settles deep in his chest, she says. “I think we’ll make a good team, Heartbreak Prince.”

[nameless-network]

im still so hyped over oceanic timezones (/eastern timezones would be the more accurate term) being added to the qsmp dude. i dont have to play guessing games trying to figure out what time it is for the streamer/how long theyre going to be live for because acau is just 2 hours behind me. and its just so!!!!!! AAAAAA!!!!!!!! idk i think its just because its pretty disappointing waking up early to watch morning crew for example just to find out theyre ending at like 7am my time so im just so so so excited to have creators thatll be awake when im awake and end stream when im going to sleep

[boydykedevo]

Looking into the etymology of some Ethersea character’s names for fun and. I’m just gonna share my findings real quick cuz I think its cool lol (sources used are mostly wikipedia and behindthename. I could be wrong about some of this idk)

Oksana/Oxana is a Ukrainian name. It derives from either the Greek name Xenia, meaning “hospitality” or the word Xenos, meaning “stranger”. (Its also spelled “Aksana”!)

Griffin says “Boyar” is a German word for the child of a baron when he names Hermine, but its actually an Eastern European aristocratic term (apparently it WAS used by Baltic Germans too? But as far as I can tell not IN Germany) Hermine IS German though, its the feminine version of Herman, which means “army man”.

Tolliver is an anglicized variant of Taliaferro, which comes from Tagliaferro, an Italian surname meaning “iron cutter”. The spelling Taliaferro probably came from a transcription error. I was very surprised to find out its unrelated to Oliver lol

Declan is an Irish name. The Wikipedia article said it is “believed to mean” either “man of prayer” or “full of goodness” but there was no citation so idk.

Damian is used in a lot of countries with a lot of variations, but it’s ultimately from the Greek name Damianos, meaning “(I) conquer/tame/overcome”. Also the name of the Antichrist in The Omen, which I can’t help but feel might be related to why Travis picked it.

Cern is a German surname meaning “carrier” (some sort of connection to Declan being the Ballaster of Transit? Idk that might be a stretch)

Phineas is the anglicized form of Phinehas, a priest in the Hebrew Bible. The spelling Finneas might be influenced by Irish names containing the element “Finn”. Cawl was hard to find a good source on, but it’s the name of a Welsh soup, and it might be related to the Scottish surname Cowl or the Gaelic surname Cawley? Definitely seems Gaelic, in any case.

Aloysius is a Latinized form of Aloys, which is related to the name Louis. In the US, it’s mostly used by Roman Catholics. As far as I can tell Supreme isn’t actually used as a surname, but it comes from the Latin suprēmus.

Ravi is a Hindi name meaning “sun”. Montrell is Spanish or Italian (sources vary) and ultimately derives from the Latin word “monte”, meaning mountain.

Tessellation is a word meaning a tiling pattern with no gaps, which I think fits pretty well with the concept of brinarr

Guthrie is a surname that comes from the Gaelic word “gaothair”, meaning “windy place”.

Orlean comes from the French place name Orleans, which is related to the Roman family name Aurelius, meaning “golden, gilded.” The spelling Orlene is a French girl’s name meaning “golden” as well.

Aaaand I think thats all the ones I was gonna do thanks for bearing with me if you read this far o7

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

hi jalebi

i am so frustrated with these uber-sanskari khushi’s in all the ipk fanfic like why can’t she say ch*tiya and eat mutton biryani and still believe in god and have traditional values

begging you to write something to fix this void

love

an admirer

Hi Admirer 👋

Hmm there’s a thin line between characteristics, character background and then using a character to peddle irritating “sanskaari” teachings.

Khushi, in the show and fics, falls into all three.

I find this ask a little funny because I am a vegetarian and I rarely swear.

And Khushi being a vegetarian and not swearing (in the show for that’s what I can speak for) really comes from her character background (as my friend has attested, the version of Lucknow and Lucknowi family we see is a romanticized version a non Lucknowi would have about the city - a city of poetry and passion, fantasy and fineries, cuisine and character).

While those tropes aren’t baseless - Khushi’s character background is limited to those tropes as opposed to building on it.

Khushi’s vegetarianism probably stems from her religion - the same reason why Arnav’s family is vegetarian as well (I personally do find it irritating that they had this whole yelling when Lavanya got a cake with egg. Chee.)

Also, Khushi might actually appreciate the cooking that goes into a kebab. Unlike Nani she doesn’t seem to maintain social distancing from non veg foods. Such as when Khushi excitedly talks about kebabs that’s cooked in her neighbouring cities back home when she’s try to butter up the waiter to give her and Arnav a table for their “date”.

You might be wondering why I’m writing this in detail and, oddly, defending Khushi because I do not think her being vegetarian, or not choosing to use cuss words is an issue.

These are characteristics. Like her being religious is a fact about her. She is meant to be the opposite of Arnav in every way - literally. Arnav is implied to drop “fuck” at the drop of the hat. Hence Khushi doesn’t swear. He is non vegetarian. She is vegetarian. Arnav wears western outfits with an allergy to ethnic ones, Khushi wears ethnic outfit with an allergy to western ones. Arnav’s language of choice is English. Khushi’s language of choice is Hindi.

And she’s supposed to be modesty in all form - from language to sex (which ofc she’s had none while Arnav does know the tango) and Arnav is temptation in all form (being unattainable is #1).

Now, the reason for my detailed explanation of all this is I think the issue with the show and consequently a set of fic writers is that they don’t show Khushi’s hypocrisy and judgemental attitude - which stems from her traditional upbringing - as wrong.

I don’t have an issue with characteristics and character background. But it is difficult to love a character who is intrusive, behaves like she’s 14, is extremely hypocritical, judgemental, straight up liar and has an extremely high moral superiority complex.

Yes, Arnav has a superiority complex on wealth - which is dutifully called out MULTIPLE times. Which is why fics get him to say sorry, many times, sometimes amazingly, sometimes terribly.

But Khushi’s moral hypocrisy? Never called out.

And the issue with that is that it codes Khushi’s behavior and judgements as correct. And as traits that don’t need a development. She is not written nor treated as someone who needs to unlearn the crap she’s been taught and get off her high horse of traditional values.

However, Khushi eating meat or cussing leads to making changes in the fundamental character itself. And ofc everyone’s entitled to making them. But it means she rebelled against her family - with whom she feels a certain obligatory sense for they adopted her. Doesn’t that change her equation with the family? If she cussed once at home, she would’ve been slapped by Buaji.

Thus Khushi’s behavior would be taken as a form of teen rebellion and one needs to think what triggered it? Her prankster-ness gets her in enough trouble - but it’s also her being loved by Shashi and Payal.

Also Khushi’s 18/19 and extremely sheltered - she hasn’t even had a chance to explore world and get influenced by it.

She does get influenced by Arnav though - she picks up a lot of his English.

I reckon once she’s older she would actually pick up saying “fuck” over “Chutiya”

On a side note, I could legit write her cussing and eating meat and still being just as irritating because I’m changing habits, not working on her personality.

Also food and language have little association to religion. Of course the world doesn’t see it that way. But I don’t think anything is mutually exclusive when it comes to belief and values.

I totally do support the representation of meat eating cussing traditional devout people - lol my dearest aunt was one.

The question is, is Khushi the right character to represent that before she becomes - just a different character?

In an AU - khushi could totally be that. Heck I’ve written the most bizarre stuff lol 😂

:) lots of love,

- Jalebi

[misty-memories09]

Hello, everyone, I once again offer an analysis on S.P.E.W. Previously I had commented on it's failure but this time it's more on the slavery itself and why it's weird, gross and every aligning adjective when I see ‘it was fine because they wanted to be enslaved’

If you see this post before you see the failure of S.P.E.W one, you can check it out here if you wish. In that post I do only speak of where I believe Hermione had gone wrong in her approach.

With all of that out there, let's start —

There are two possibilities when we look at house-elf enslavement. 1) they are magically engineered creatures, 2) mass brainwash.

Now see, I do not think the first option is too likely. Although it is the wizarding world, speaking realistically magically engineered creatures are a cheap cop-out.

If we look at the possibility no.2 imagine the things they'd have done to reach the point of mass brainwashing of house elves. It's something really gross whenever I see the book characters or fandom say that the house elves are happy to be enslaved.

Which at first you could say is absolutely correct but then you're completely ignoring how issues aren't black and white and never will be. It's incorrect to say such a thing as enslavement will never be in anyone's nature everyone strives to be free. Freedom is by default something precious to every creature out there.

But there's also this one thing, this one VERY important thing which I don't know if I should state or not but these agruements have been continuously used by slave owners, and it is actually very important to the analysis I have made.

It's natural that some people are slaves. This argument says that some people are slaves as part of the natural order of the universe, or as part of God's plan, and it is wrong to interfere with this by abolishing slavery - nobody nowadays regards slavery as a natural thing.

Source

I recommend going through this whole article as it contains multiple agruements used by slave owners which are used in the books alike. I also recommend going out to look for articles for credible sources to get a better grasp on this topic if you want.

This is the essence of the arguement for slavery used by our fictional pureblood wizards and actual slave owners historically. Which is why the house-elf deal sits so wrong.

It's because of what it represents. It represents pure oppression to the point where the oppressed class itself feels that it was meant to be opressed — as if it was born for the need of slaves. This idea has been drilled down the minds of house elves for ages. The oppressed class in our case is the house elves.

Now pardon me for involving Indian history here which might not seem related but I will make the connection quickly —

In India, you may or may not know that the major religion is hinduism. The system I am talking about was officially abolished in 1950 but even still, many people still practice this especially in rural areas.

Namely, it is the caste system — at the top are the Brahmanas, these are the priests of our temples and are regarded as ‘holy’. Then comes the kshatriyas (this is a hard to pronounce word if you can not speak Hindi, I suggest not trying lol because the k sound is there but it is also simultaneously silent), these are the ruling powers, the authority. Then comes the shudras, these are at the second lowest, still not marginalised even though they have faced atrocities, these are the farmers and artisans.

The caste we will be looking at is ati-shudras, the lowest of the low, the marginalised and the 'untouchables'. These are the workers that cleaned streets and did the so-called dirty work, they also are ones that would burn the corpses.

Now, I do not intend to credit jkr as a genius, honestly, I'm not so sure where she was going with this because it was just hanging there and the topic wasn't talked about enough, it was gone in book five. No more. Genuinely, I think she just wasted a very complicated and very interesting sub-plot set up but all we see is kreacher and then dobby die.

In our case of the fictional world of Harry Potter we can look at the house elves as the ati-shudras. When we look at this caste system, we must also consider that it has been deeply ingraved in the minds of many Hindus. There are many recent news of 'honour killing' for the simple reason that there daughters liked a man that was not from a desirable caste or well, an acceptable caste.

I do not mean to ramble, but the connection I wish to make here is that it is very possible to have a massive brain wash, and for someone so-called 'dirty' to feel dirty as well as if they were born dirty and are meant to be treated as low level garbage.

It's all because it is a heavily agreed idea upon. There are so many instances of characters agreeing upon this idea that house elves are dirty, below them, meant to be enslaved — Ron, Percy, literally every single pureblood, half-blood and even muggle borns that it is hard for even the house elves themselves to believe that they are not dirty, untouchable and that there validation as a creature is only there as long as their masters are pleased with their work.

This is why winky has such a hard time coming to terms with the fact she had been sacked. It wasn't just a job it was her life. I believe getting 'sacked' used to be much much more violent in the start of house-elf slavery. There's also a gross aspect which is totally possible during the times of early house elf enslavement — killing the ones that do not follow through their terms. Take this and there could also be the aspect of the idea starting out as a 'movement' as in, the wizards at the time had this idea mass agreed upon and treated every single house elf as below them.

The point is, the wizards are the upper, better, cleaner ones than the house elves. They are the Brahmanas, Kyshatriyas and the Shudras (this actually kind of checks out because Shudras were also treated poorly just better than the ati-shudras) while the House elves are the untouchables. The ones above them in this unjust caste system feel superior to them while they feel inferior which was purposefully crafted by the so-called superiors.

Now think about this, the concept of caste system has been officially abolished in 1950, it has completed seventy-five years since then but it is still deeply rooted into society, still has an effect on how many people live there lives. House elf slavery hadn't even been abolished. This problem still would've been there because this is, unfortunately, how people work. This is how people have been working when it really shouldn't be.

Yeesh, that was much that I just unpacked! I still have more thoughts on this topic which I would possibly post in the coming future.

[gretheresa]

Hey could share some tips abt learning new Lang you seem to have good grasp by now and I m willing to start Korean so maybe some advice would really help I g.

Have a grt day :))

I would love to! My advice won't be too structured so please bear with me 😭💕

New Script

First things first your target language has a different script. Since you've written your ask in English I understand that you're familiar with the Roman script. Please understand this, when you're learning a language and it has a script you're not familiar with, drop everything and familiarise yourself with the script first. A lot of students tend to develop a tendency of relying upon the script they already know to be able to read the text of their target language(hereinafter mentioned as TL). I'm in my third year of studying Japanese. Japanese has 3 scripts. Students who didn't familiarise themselves with the Japanese scripts still rely on writing the pronunciations of words in English. The learning of the Korean script is not just limited to memorising the letters, but as far as I can remember, the positions of the letters also matter. Essentially, you need to know the script like the back of your hand. Since the Korean language has gained a lot of traction in the past few years, there are now a number of apps for you to practice writing the script and provides flashcards for you to retain the script.

Gather Study Material/Make a Study Plan

If you're planning on self studying, do extensive research, on YouTube, Tumblr, find other people who are learning the same TL as you are, ask them what resources they use. As far as a beginner is concerned, most platforms provide basic learning material for free. If you need to get a basic framework or a goal to work towards, look for the proficiency test of your language and if it is conducted in your country. For Korean it would be the TOPIK test if I'm not wrong. The lowest level is 1, highest 5. Jot down the syllabus or print it. And start researching on gathering the material to cover that syllabus. This way you won't feel like you're arbitrarily studying whatever you can get your hands on. It'll give you a goal to work towards. For TOPIK level 1, I believe you'll easily find free resources online.

Understanding Sentence Structure

Grammar structure that is whether your TL is a Subject+Object+Verb(eg. Japanese, Hindi, Korean) or a Subject+Verb+Object(eg. English, Chinese). If you already happen to know a language that has the same sentence structure as your TL, take that language as your base language to learn the TL.

Input vs Output

When you're learning a new language, there's two things happening. One is Input, the other is your Output. Input would include reading and listening and output would be writing and speaking. Please understand that it might be a while before you can fluently create output. When you're starting out, a great amount of input is needed to "create" output in your TL. And by create I mean being able to create sentences in your TL as opposed to creating a sentence in your native language and then translating it to your TL. Being able to intuitively, effortlessly create sentences, or think in a new language takes a LOT of input. Think of how long it takes babies to speak because they don't have a base language from which they can translate. They gather input for such a long time before they can string two words together. So don't feel disheartened when you sit down to write something in your TL but words just won't come to you. It's fine. Put your focus into gathering a lot of input.

Kind of Input to Look For

An important thing to consider when you're in your quest for gathering input, is to gather such input as would be useful to your level of understanding of the TL. Imagine if a lawyer started talking to a baby to increase the vocab capacity of the baby. it won't work. Find materials suited to your level. If you're a beginner read children's books, watch children's cartoons. The good thing about being an adult is that we can learn faster than a baby, so naturally we might progress on to intermediate level more easily than a kid but that doesn't mean we can skip the part where we have to read kid's books.

Overcoming the Intermediate Level Boredom/Lack of Motivation

The true problem arises when we're at a lower intermediate level. So now we know more than just the basics, but not enough to be able to understand our favourite shows or read the novels or comics we'd like to read. The solution is to remind yourself again, that lower intermediate level requires reading and listening to content of that very level. This is the one place I've seen so many students give up because language does get progressively harder from here. And most people who are relying purely on studying grammar and cramming vocab from a boring list tend to feel super burnt out. The solution is to read and especially read fiction. Fiction will naturally create interest in finding out what a particular word means. I've never managed to learn vocab from a list. It's tedious, boring and I always run the risk of ending up hating my TL. So read, and always read the stories suited to your level of understanding.

Same goes for listening. Immerse yourself in podcasts, youtube channels of your TL. Again at the level that suits you. Being able to understand something in your TL gives a confidence boost and motivates you to study more to be able to understand even more complex grammar, which is why I'm focusing so much on gathering input that is suited to your level of understanding of the TL.

This got a bit too long than I had planned😅 I hope this helps. I might add something later on. I'd love it if other langblrs would like to add to this.

Learning a new language is soooo exciting but you must MUST know that it requires a tremendous amount of patience. When you're starting out and feel frustrated that you're still not able to understand movies or books in your target language, remind yourself that you're the equivalent of a 6-7 year old student when you're studying the language and be kind to yourself as you would be to a kid. I hope I was able to help you out, sending all the love for your language learning journey💕

[hannahlikeso741]

Some Amit Thakkar Headcanons

Since Amit is getting some much appreciated love, I decided to share some headcanons about him. Please note I really tried to research as much as I could about India, looking up as much as I could and talking to some of my colleagues who come from varying parts of India, but if I do get some things wrong, please let me know!

He is Gujarati ( Solely based on the surname Thakkar, which is commonly found in the Gujarat state in India)

Amit Thakkar is not his full name ( If we are following the naming system of the Gujarati, it would be his given name, his father's name and his surname in that order. We are missing his father's name.)

He's an Aries ( Again, if we are following the Gurajati naming traditions, his given name, Amit would respond to his Rashi, the Indian Horoscope. Amit responds to the sign Mesha, which Aries is the equivalent)

His family is wealthy and highly educated, and were able to send him to Hogwarts due to their ties to the British Raj. (New telescope aside, a clue lies within the surname. Thakkar is also a common surname found among the Lohana 'Jati' people of Western India where Gujarat is, are famed for being traders. Some of the Lohanas who manage to get an education worked for the British Raj. It is a long history, but this is as best as I can sum it up.)

He is shaken from his first adventure, but secretly he wants more. (Again, we are going back to the Thakkar surname, where it is said they are from the Kshatriya caste which is tied to warrior aristocracy. I like to believe he still got some of that in him, otherwise he wouldn't willingly enter a goblin mine)

He loves astrology as it is closely tied to his Hindu religion. (Thakkar as a surname is closely tied to Hinduism, where astrology is found under the Jyotisha, one of the six auxiliary disciplines of Hinduism, mainly used for time keeping.)

He has family in Colonial India and Africa. (Again back to the Thakkar surname, there were many Thakkars who migrated to the British African colonies like Uganda for example)

He is a polygot. (Ok this might be a bit of a stretch, but I'm just basing it around his family being traders and highly educated. India has plenty of languages, so it wouldn't surprise me if Amit had to learn Hindi, Gujarati, and English to get by, yet he still has time to learn Gobbledegook.)

Well that is all I got for now. Please let me know if there are things to add!

[chevvy-ryder]

"New in town? Me? Nah — been living here since I can think!"

—

[NC_RES]_27022048-NCA steyr_j_portraits_003_LC_TD.file ///core:_jaysen_steyr.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

So here's a lil info on him:

As you may have noticed through tags, Jaysen is the twin brother of Vijay. V didn't know about him until in 2078 — Jaysen found out about his brother earlier but was never able to find him until 2078 as well bc V is hard to find.

Jaysen was given away because his and Vijay's parents weren't able to handle two children (you may already know they weren't good parents for V either since they only had work in mind devoting their lives to Corpos, so Vijay grew up with a nanny looking after him instead).

Jay was adopted by a caring pair living in Night City. His foster dad worked as an officer at the NCPD. Jay thought to be their blood until he got to a certain teenage age starting to ask questions where they couldn't hide the truth from him anymore, telling him he was adopted and he was born with the last name 'Steyr' in Monterey and not 'Grayford'. His foster parents knew that he has a twin brother but not his name. So it was all they were able to tell him. After that Jaysen got obsessed with wanting to find him and his real parents.

So, like Vijay, he got himself into exploring the net more and more, collecting data, trying to find out more about his family tree. Over the years he managed digging out data of his parents and finds out his brother's name is Vijay but V seems to have vanished (because V went to live with that gang and deleted his data during that time, giving himself an alias also when moving to Night City because he still did netrunning service for people wanting their data removed (like Ryder)). This is just first thoughts on all this. Details might change a bit and ofc there is more about his backtory, but it's just bits and nothing final so this info should do for now.

On the other side i can add that Vijay already gets foretold by Arki (and Misty), that he's not one only but one of two through tarot cards.

"Wait — why does it say it's two of you. You're an only child, right?" "Yeah, I am." "Like I'm doing this for the fifth time now and it says two. Two of you." "Must've read wrong then. Or those cards are cursed." "Oh, they are never wrong. I'll go to Misty. Can't shake that there is something to it."

Misty confirms that as well but the cards won't say more so it will be the usual investigation to look into but the team has other important stuff and problems right now to do and it happens that Jaysen is the one finding his brother before Vijay can even start to look. How this is going to be, I'll keep for another time. :D

But:

If you ask yourself now where the idea of a sudden brother for Vijay came? Simple: I looked up 'Vijay' again; it derives from 'Vijaya' (Hindi for victory). Vijaya, alongside Jaya, is a gatekeeper of the abode of Vishnu. Due to a curse both (demonic) brothers were forced to reincarnate three times on earth.

A long while ago I defined for Vijay that he believes in soulmates and other more spiritual stuff. E.g. when you die and get born again, that you will find your soulmate, even if it takes centuries. I don't want to say that V's soulmate is Jay here, no, because his soulmate is Arki (hence they fall for each other so rapidly). Arki, too can't shake the feeling that Vijay must have been some ancient divine centuries ago (I did not start this, haha), they both do not just get to know each together, it's more they discover each other again.

Maybe it is similar with Vijay and Jaysen but I see them more like they are one mind in some cases. They have different likes, tastes and character bc they didn't grew up together but also are very much alike.

And what can I say other than this Vijaya and Jaya stuff was not too far away and I thought why not?

This is basically the idea behind giving Vijay a twin brother now just because of looking up name origins, tarot and ancient (soul) stuff, yo. That is how my inspiration works, yeah. And @nervouswizardcycle is always super inspiring and helping if I have doubts.

[dreamsofnightmares2035]

kapil sharma RRR game

(listen, i'm not fully fluent in hindi, and kapil breaks out the punjabi unexpectedly, so i might be wrong with some parts of the translation)

-

[0.:05]

kapil: sir, i'm going to play a game with you. alia, everyone will have headphones over their ears. from that, music will play. i will say a line, and you have to lip read that, then you have to tell ram sir, ram has to tell ntr sir, ntr has to tell rajamouli sir.

so are you guys ready?

please bring the headphones.

[0:35]

kapil: alia, first you come here please. (whispers) together we can beat the south-indians.

this whole game is on you, alia, based on how you explain to the others and how you guess. music will play, and don't play it too loud (to the crew), the girl is like a flower, her ears (are delicate).

please come up here, sirs.

alia: everyone come here.

[1:05]

kapil: "zindagi jhandhwa, phir bhi ghamandwa" (first phrase, which means that your life is shit but you're still arrogant/you think you're something special)

(repeats the phrase)

alia: how can i speak? (because the music is so loud)

kapil: just speak, just speak

[1:24]

alia to charan: "zindagi"

charan: "zindagi"

alia: "jhandwa" (starts laughing)

charan: "jalwa?" (jalwa means like fire/charismatic/splendid/awesome from what i understand)

alia: "zindagi jhandhwa, phir bhi ghamandwa"

[1:36]

charan to tarak: "zindagi"

tarak: yeah, "zindagi jalwa", i got that, (tell me) what's after that

charan: "phir bhi bewda" (bewda means clumsy/drunkard i believe)

tarak: "zindagi jalwa phir bhi bewda"?? (i guess means like 'life is great but i'm still an alcoholic? i don't think it makes any sense either)

charan: yeah

(laughter)

[1:50]

tarak to ssr: "zindagi"

ssr: *confused*

tarak: (something in telugu, probably along the lines of 'say it back to me')

ssr: "zindagi"

tarak: "jalwa". jalwa! like halwa! (halwa is a sweet food)

ssr: "jalwa! zindagi jalwa"

tarak: "phir bhi"

ssr: "mein bhi" (different preposition, alters meaning slightly)

tarak: "phir bhi"! ph! ph! (uses telugu word i think)

(finally communicates it)

ssr: "zindagi jalwa phir bhi bewda"?

(first round over, general laughter and outrage at the nonsense)

[2:34]

alia: i don't think i said anything wrong?

kapil: you (alia) were right, what did you say?

alia: "zindagi jhandwa phir bhi ghamandwa"

kapil: and what did ram sir say?

charan: "zindagi jalwa phir bhi bewda"

(laughter)

tarak: but what was the original thing, sir?

alia: "zindagi jhandwa phir bhi ghamandwa"

[3:03]

kapil: okay, the second line--

alia: please play the music now!

tarak: (says something in telugu, 'baaga' means good, so he might have been referring to the game or the music, not sure)

kapil: okay. "machhli jal ki rani hai, meri nani shaani hai" (second phrase, which means that 'the fish is the queen of the ocean/water, and my maternal grandmother is shaani'; that is either a name or an adjective i haven't heard before; the first half is part of a nursery rhyme, i think)

alia: "badi?" (badi means big)

[3:18]

alia to charan: "machhli jal ki rani hai"

charan: easy, take it easy.

alia: "machhli jal ki rani hai, badi nachari hai" (i believe badi nachari hai means 'is very poor', i could be wrong)

[3:36]

charan to tarak: "machhli jal ki rani hai"

tarak: "bijli"? (means electricity)

charan: "jal" (makes wave motions witb his hand to show it's water) "ki rani hai"

alia: "no, you can't do that (make gestures)

charan: okay, "jal ki rani hai"

tarak: "bijli jal ki rani hai"? (electricity is the queen of the ocean/water)

charan: "macchli!"

tarak: "machhli jal ki rani hai"

charan: "phir bhi"...? (turns to ask alia what the rest was) ...second part?

alia: "badi nachari hai"

charan: "phir bhi badi nachari hai!"

tarak: (confused) "machhli jal ki rani hai, phir bhi"

charan: "phir bhi"... (also confused)

tarak: "phir bhi"?

charan: ey, just say whatever, bro!

(laughter)

charan: "phir bhi maharani hai" (means, and yet she is a great queen/empress)

[4:13]

tarak to ssr: "machhli" (fish)

ssr: "bajrangi!" (lord hanuman)

tarak: "machhli!"

ssr: "bachti"?

tarak: fish, fish! "machhli!"

ssr: ah, "machhli!"

tarak: "machhli jal ki rani hai"

ssr: "machhli jal ki rani hai!"

tarak: yeah. (turns to charan) "phir bhi maharani hai?"

charan: just say whatever

tarak to ssr: okay, "phir bhi maharani hai"

ssr: (understanding) "phir bhi maharani hai". okay, "machhli jal ki rani hai, phir bhi maharani hai" (meaning, the fish is the queen of the ocean, and yet she is the empress)

[4:49]

alia: what was the original?

kapil: okay, so the actual line was this, "machhli jal ki rani hai, meri nani shaani hai", but still everyone got 50% correct

[5:00]

alia: one more? one more, i like this game

kapil: "bhains poonch uthayegi, toh sober hi rahegi" (this is a modification of the original phrase, and i guess it means 'if the buffalo lifts its tail, it'll remain sober? i'm not aware of any other meaning of sober, so this sounds like nonsense)

alia: what? (kapil repeats the phrase and she's still confused, he acts it out) "bhains, poonch, hila rahi hai" (means the buffalo is shaking the tail, i think, but i also have heard 'hilana' as slang for masturbating)

(kapil explains once again, and she doesn't get the second half, so he changes it to the original film phrase: "bhains poonch uthayegi, toh gober hi karegi" which means when the buffalo lifts its tail, it's going to shit cow dung, i suppose that means there's no point being surprised about something, what did you expect)

kapil: (say) whatever you want.

alia: (still confused, thinks he's saying the line) "jo kamaaye"? (something about earning)

(goes through it one more time)

alia: "bhains poonch uthaye, toh bade kamaaye?" (means if the buffalo lifts his tail, you'll earn a lot of money)

kapil: sure

charan: kapil sir, the song ended just now

[5:53]

alia to charan: "bhains poonch uthaye"

charan: "main poonch"...? (about to say 'when i lift my tail')

alia: "bhains!" (buffalo, not you)

charan: oh, "bhains!"

alia: "bhains poonch uthaye, toh bade kamaaye"

charan: "bhains ka poonch bade kamaal ki hai" (means the buffalo's tail is really awesome)

[6:14]

charan to tarak: "bhains ka poonch bade kamaal ki hai"

tarak: (confused)

(alia stops him, asks kapil to tell her the phrase again)

kapil: the buffalo has put its tail back down

alia: ???

kapil: (repeats the line) "bhains poonch uthayegi, toh gober hi karegi"

alia: OH! (turns to charan) "bhains poonch uthaye, toh rupay laaye" (means when the buffalo lifts its tail, it will bring rupees)

[6:35]

charan to tarak: "bhains ka poonch uthayega, toh paisa aaya" (essentially the same meaning, when the buffalo lifts its tail, then money came)

tarak: (tries to understand, so confused; the others tell him to pass it on) what am i supposed to say?

kapil: explain, explain to him (ssr) now

charan: say it

[6:58]

tarak to ssr: "bhains"

ssr: "bhains"

tarak: "poonch uthaye"

ssr: "poonch utha!"

both tarak and charan: "toh paise aaye"

ssr: "toh paisa aaya"??

[7:14]

kapil: okay, now remove your headphones!

ssr: what is that?

tarak and charan: was that correct?

kapil: so what i said to alia was, "bhains poonch uthayegi, toh sober hi rahegi", at first. she didn't understand. so then i said the exact line "bhains poonch uthayegi, toh gober hi karegi". she (alia) said, when the buffalo lifts its tail, then money (rupees) comes. when the buffalo lifts the tail, does an ATM open there or something?

(alia is embarrassed)

kapil: but it was a wonderful game! you all played very well! please come sit.

-

[myfanfictiongarden]

Why Qimir is wrong- an essay

First of all I’ll like to say that the following observations are based on the six episodes we’ve seen so far of The Acolyte and I have no idea what will happen in the next two.

Also, Qimir is as hot as Mustafar.

There has been a lot of concern until now (especially if you judge it by the headlines of most YouTube videos) that this show might be all anti-Jedi centred and might praise to much the villains. Like so many speculations, theories and concerns right now floating through the internet I thought them unneeded and haven’t been proven wrong as yet. Most good stories rely on the fact that it is more interesting if you can understand from where both sides are coming from and, if we are going to stick to Star Wars, the prequels were basically nothing more then an attempt to showcase where Darth Vader was coming from. Everybody praised Avengers: Infinity War for having Thanos be a complex character, so why shouldn’t The Acolyte have witches and Sith we are curious to know more about? Does that automatically make the show be anti-Jedi and Light Side? No, no it doesn’t. 

But while I think the show has as yet a rather balanced outlook at characters believes and positions, and understands what is right and what is wrong, I do wonder at those from the audience who might think the show says “Qimir is right”

Well, I say “Qimir is wrong” And here’s why:

The most prevailing argument that he is making of why the Jedi are wrong, and that he (as a Dark Side user) has a right to exist is: Freedom. Everybody should have the freedom to do as he or she pleases, no limitations, follow your emotions because they are always right, power is a mighty weapon, no law should limit myself from expressing my individuality etc. But things aren’t that black and white as he paints them to be, aren’t they? Because “freedom” means responsibility, you CANNOT just do as you pleases, your emotions can blind you, the rules of society keep us united. It isn’t just about using the Force freely. It isn’t just the Jedi who are worried about Dark Side users, it’s the Republic. 

The reason only Jedi are trained to use their powers is to prevent another Galaxy wide conflict like there was 1000 yers ago. Not every child sensitive in the Force is excepted into the Order nor does every family agree to send their child away, and that is okay because if not used the powers do not limit the person in his path later in life, except prevent psychotic mass murderers from wrecking havoc. (Insert tumblr joke).

It is always brought up how Jedi are against attachment and romantic relationships- well I haven’t seen a Sith romance last very long, did you? Does their way of thinking really support a quiet family life? Did Anakin say yes to Padme when she asked him to leave everything behind and be there for her and their child? I see always this argument of “Jedi can’t love” as a fact and exclusively bad thing, when the concept of monastic life is anything but coldhearted and anti-love. All the Jedi we’ve met here so far have been nothing but kind- even Yord. Why couldn’t friendships be based on really deep connections? Why should the personal gratification of oneself be the way to limit oneself in life? Qimir said there is no romantic love, no family life possible as a Jedi- yes but only because (from a Catholic point of view) we know family love and the love between two people is the most noble and worthy thing to strive for, so when you exclude yourself from that equation it isn’t because you don’t value them but because you value them so much that you are making a sacrifice to forgo this path and give yourself up to spiritual servitude to (insert your faith) and society as a whole. This concept may look odd to people from a secular worldview, but to millions of believers (Christian, Hindi, Buddhist or Shinto) it is a very valid concept. 

Where does love have its place in Qimir’s worldview? Survival of the fittest? He tells Osha her feelings for Jecki would have always stayed on sided- so it was ok to kill her? Because my feelings alone are valid, everyone else is wrong? Isn’t that the lonely path?

"When you loose everything you're finally free"- Qimir, ep6 Teach/Corrupt

[stabknives]

you 🫵 tell me about vykrum

Thank you for asking about my little freak. I love you forever.

Enormous slew of trigger warnings here: #misgendering // #noncon // #necro // #cannibalism // #abortion // #fauxcest // #abuse // #age gaps // ??

Also I. Rambled endlessly so if you don't read all this, not gonna blame you king. Just skip to whatever you're curious about with Control+F.

Some songs for Vykrum: Thermodynamic Lawyer by Will Wood, Sorrow by IAMX, Olly Olly Oxen Free by Amanda Palmer, Boring by the Pierces.

Some songs for Vyktash: Flowers of Flesh and Blood by Nicole Dollanganger, Choke by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME, This Is Love by Air Traffic Control, Rabid by Nicole Dollanganger.

Some songs for Vykstarion: Cement by Nicole Dollanganger, Blood by the Pierces, Red Hands and White Knuckles by The Bravery, Say Hello Melancholia IAMX.

Might post the full playlists eventually!

[Quick info]

Name: Vykrum Malvaris.

Age: 150? 200? 300?

Gender: AFAB, Nonbinary.

Pronouns: He/They.

Orientation: Aro/Ace.

Race: Drow.

Class: Cleric, Death Domain.

So.

Where to start. I've had two versions of Vykrum, a tiefling and a drow, but I mostly just made them a tiefling originally because I liked the thought of them strangling people with their tail lmao. It makes far more sense for them to be a drow, and that's the version I have the actual backstory for.

Vykrum was born to nobility in the underdark. Firstborn female, very important. He technically had three younger male siblings, which became two when the third son was (obviously) killed. Vykrum was… affected by this pretty weirdly. Vykrum has always found family to be very important, but not because he has, like. An endless amount of love in his heart or anything. He's kind of arrogant to the point of absurdity. (He was a Yathrin cleric of Lolth. So. Clearly something is wrong with him.)

They would've taken over their house if they hadn't decided to do something hilarious by calling themselves a man. (They're nonbinary, technically, but Vykrum- or at the time, Vykri- gets their jollies from angering people expeditiously.)

Vykrum as a name doesn't mean anything to my knowledge. It's just a collection of letters I typed out at random. Same with Vykri. However, ‘Vikram’ is apparently a hindi name that means ‘wise’ and ‘brave’. Not pronounced the same. No reason I'm bringing this up, just thought it was neat.

The reason why they have gender weirdness is complicated. Obviously gender always is, but specifically with Vykrum it's more than. Normal. For instance, I'm just a man because… I'm a man… but Vykrum isn't real so there's symbolism here. Come along with me. Take my hand and let's explore.

Vykrum has never connected well with people. They were put on a pedestal from a very young age, gassed up like crazy for being great at murder and feeling nothing while they did it and being a manipulative little shite head ect ect… and they believed it, of course. No one else is good enough. No one else is special. Living creatures are all the same. (They're better off dead, dead, dead. Tedious, every day is so tedious.)

Vykrum was seemingly. Born tired. Tired and bored. Eventually they left the underdark, because you can't be a Lolth priestess and call yourself a man. No matter how momentarily riveting it is to see everyone lose their minds about it, they will eventually kill you for that.

So Vykrum fucks off upstairs. Being bhaalspawn isn't as easy on the surface. The Dark Urge needs new and exciting ways to be sated, but personal challenges can be a refreshing change of pace. And for awhile, working to suppress the Urge was stimulating enough. But like all ‘new’ things to Vykrum, it too eventually got boring. Death was something Vykrum had a fondness for, after all. Can't stay away from what you love for long.

Vykrum meets Gortash when he's still shitty little Enver Flymm, worlds worst little boy. I go back and forth on when exactly that would be, whether it was before Gortash got sold to the House of Hope or after. Don't have time to get into each possibility in depth because this is already pretty lengthy and we've barely even started, but I figure if they met while Enver was still with his folks Vykrum either caught him trying to steal something dangerous out of Vykrum’s bag or sticking his nose somewhere he ought not at the local apothecary… poisons maybe. The House of Hope meeting is literally just Vykrum ending up there after some bullshit, seeing a kid and going goddamn ahahaha (points at him and laughs).

Point is, Vykrum knew Enver when he was a kid. Found him… endearing… I guess is the only word for it. If he knew him while he was with his parents, Vykrum probably told him to kill them multiple times. If he was so fucking unhappy. Just kill them. Idiot. (That advice is harder to give in the House of Hope but they probably still say it. Go on. Moron. Kill the devil. From the bible.)

Need to stress that Vykrum isn't nice. Vykrum is actually very not nice. Although they take a shine to this random little snot, they don't exactly coddle him. Probably beats the shit out of him on more than one occasion for being annoying, not listening, pestering Vykrum… but Vykrum still shows up to make sure Gortash is still alive. Brings him food, and changes of clothes. Shows him how to hold a dagger, and where to aim it if he means to kill someone, or how to avoid that if he wants to make the whole ordeal last longer.

They're close. In their own way, I guess. Vykrum cares about him. At least as much as he's ever cared about anyone. He's like that third Malvaris son, the brother Vykrum never got to know. Maybe Vykrum CAN have a family. Or have someone. Even if The Boy is a horrible little cretin, by any real metric.

Vykrum has only had the dead as friends in the past. Lovers too. Do with that what you will. (He knows Talk With Dead, so. Who knows. Maybe it was a consensual use of their corpses? Lmao?) The dead don't really go anywhere. They have no reason to try to trick you. They don't have some silly facade firmly in place, a mask Vykrum has to stare at blandly and pretend he can't see past it for the sake of propriety. Most people are a lot more honest, in death.

Not that such sentiments apply to his relationship with Flymm. God no. Lmao. The Boy Is A Menace, but they're alike, in some ways. Several. Perhaps in all the most important ways.

Sometimes I think Vykrum was around to see Gortash escape from his indentured servitude but realistically probably not. Vykrum is too flighty. Can't stick around some random human kid all the time. So he goes off on his own, for what he thinks is a short amount of time— (Like. Ten years.) I'm sure Gortash loved that. (I guess you could say he was attached to Vykrum, despite the abuse. Love isn't the right word, but still. Getting abandoned. Again. By the guy that's supposed to really understand him. Hilarious. Ironic.)

By the time they meet again, Gortash is pretty much grown. Vykrum ends up in his employ, and that goes about as well as one would expect. Gortash is Important Now. Acknowledge him as important right this fucking second (not his words obviously. He's more subtle. But I'M the one that has to summarize all this.) or he is going to make sure Vykrum regrets his time away.

Vykrum… can't really do that. He can obey, yes. He can nod when instructed to nod, or smile if told to smile. He's very good at playing the part of obedient pet, because he can't usually be assed to put effort into resisting things, but he doesn't think anyone is important. Life is a transient state before death, which is permanent and much more important than breathing flesh. That doesn't mean Enver isn't important *to* Vykrum, but asking him to express that normally is like asking the stars not to shine. Like okay do you want me to eat your finger or something… do you want me to strangle you and fuck the body. What do you want.

And it's not as if Gortash loves Vykrum either. He wants Vykrum to love him, and obey him, and find him attractive. But Gortash doesn't want to like. Return the sentiment. He just thinks he's owed that, along with everything else under the fucking sun. Especially from Vykrum, who put him through so much, but was simultaneously the only person there for him as a kid. Two asexuals having depraved sex and neither is enjoying it ect ect… it's all psychosexual.

When Gortash is trying to needle Vykrum into sleeping with him, Vykrum probably says no at first. He's never slept with a living person and really doesn't want to. Which is obviously why Gortash wants to fuck. Because he knows Vykrum doesn't want to. Sigh. I don't know what's wrong with him either, anyway— obviously Gortash doesn't take no for an answer. Vykrum is supposed to be his tool. Tools are for using.

So obviously he just does it while Vykrum is sleeping one night. Makes sure to leave evidence behind. I'm guessing he'd have to drug Vykrum beforehand so he doesn't wake up, unless Vykrum wakes up in the middle of the act which seems. Dangerous. He's still the Dark Urge, whether he's like. A tired old man or not.

They go bananas. Not because of any normal reason like violated consent or whatever, (although deep down part of Vykrum will always be offended and repulsed that Gortash, the boy they thought of as Their Boy, took liberties with them.) but because they do not want a baby. Birth is about as opposite to death as you can get. (And Gortash is not making things better. Mocking Vykrum. Saying SHE might make a better MOTHER this time around. Didn't do very well the first time, but second chances and all that.)

Vykrum self mutilates. Probably right there in front of Gortash's salad and everything. They heal themselves after, but basically say Don't Do That Again. If you want to fuck me so bad do it while I'm awake. (Begrudging) (Resentful) (Fuckign. Thinking of this as a new unpleasant responsibility in need of fulfilling.)

Gortash agrees obviously. Not because he loves sex but because this seems like as good a way as any to show Vykrum that they're just an object he owns. Kill who I tell you to kill and bend over when I tell you to bend over. And of course he has to make it weird the whole time. Maybe this wouldn't be happening if you hadn't left, or if you did a better job raising me, or blah blah blah blah blah… mans a professional yapper.

The psychological and physical torment he puts Vykrum through is insane. Drugs in the food. Sure, why not. Dead family members. Not sure how he reached the underdark, but probably! Gaslighting is off the charts. The ride never ends. #Does Vykrum have to ask to go to the bathroom too milord, or can they piss when nature calls.

Vykrum gets got by Orin eventually. Probably knew it was coming, and didn't do anything to stop it. Wakes up post lobotomy a little different, although not by much. Still detached, and vaguely condescending, but without as much baggage they don't understand why they can't connect with people.

There is a sizable distance between him and the other companions at all times. They follow him because he's got many braincells worth rubbing together and is by far the oldest and most experienced of them. (He might be younger than Astarion but I'm not sure yet. I don't actually think so?)

Speaking of Astarion. That's the one he initially connects with. Even if he's not sure… why… can't put his finger on it. Something about the way he talks. Or acts. Is very familiar. Vykrum doesn't actually like it much at first. But the flagrant attempts at manipulation + pet names do feel like home.

When Astarion first asks to sleep with him Vykrum is like ehhhhh… well… uh… I guess. You're dead aren't you? And Astarion is like what. And Vykrum is like it doesn't matter. Fine. Sure. If it'll make you feel better. (Not the response Astarion is used to getting that's for damn sure. Lmao.)

Vykrum's sort of. Placid acceptance of all of Astarion's worst traits and behaviors is. I don't wanna say good for Astarion because it's definitely making him worse. But it's also making him feel BETTER. So there.

Astarion confesses his love for Vykrum immediately and gets treated like a simpleton. Tbh. No getting around that. Vykrum is like I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, genuinely. But if you want I'll pretend you never said that to me because I really do think I care about you. For right now. At least.

Astarion: Clearly ascending will solve this particular problem, along with all my other problems. No the cycle of abuse is NOT a wheel in constant motion, ever turning.

Only other person in the group that bothers with Vykrum is Karlach. Because she's Karlach. She's just kinda uber social. And Vykrum finds her zest for life somewhat fascinating. It's the opposite of him on ever level. He can't not be intrigued. World's weirdest besties. And he's got fuck all memory of his involvement in her fate, so…

Genuinely cannot imagine how the reunion with Gortash goes. Vykrum comes back, no memory (kind of happier that way), new guy (that he doesn't love romantically), best friends with Karlach (treating her like a shiny rock). What the fuck happened to you. Who the hell do you think you are. Maybe Gortash tries a new approach. Says some out of pocket shit like oh we were engaged……….. how could you do this to meh………………… just to fucking piss Karlach and Astarion off. Isolate Vykrum again. Vykrum who is desperately trying to grow even a little bit as a person. No matter what, his approach is way too fucking jolly. That's for damn sure.

There's more. A lot more. But I've been writing this for too long, soooo-! Thank you for this ask! I really needed the excuse. I was dying.

[hetyra]

ok time to ramble after 3.5 Archon quest (spoilers if you haven’t done it)

So I was technically right about the immortality being the curse, but wrong about the corruption being what turned the people into hilichurls. And it’s obvious now that the abyss mages/lectors/heralds came about from people tapping directly into that power, so that’s not the corruption either.

Which makes me think that maybe the Khaenri’ahns, through the gods showing up or maybe khemia, were saved from the forbidden knowledge corruption. The game told us outright that they had been afflicted by it, but we’re seeing no signs that they still are.

-

So Chlothar and Kaeya. 

Here’s the thing, I don’t think Kaeya is his direct descendant. Kaeya’s father could have been a relative of Chlothar‘s, or descended from said relative, and that would still qualify Kaeya as Chlothar’s descendant. 

And I still stand by the idea that the current Alberich clan likely isn’t in cahoots with the Abyss Order. That letter from HS, the voice line from Weinlesefest -- they don’t give the impression that Kaeya’s father is on the side of the Abyss Order. On top of that, if there was a disagreement between Chlothar and the other Alberich’s, it would further explain why the Alberich’s don’t keep written records and work in secret.

Another thing: the HS letter said the Alberich’s took control when Irmin was too weak. Obviously the founding of the Abyss Order happened after Khaenri’ah was already gone, so the Alberich’s likely were regents because the twin was passed the crown but they were seen as underage (hence them being called prince/princess of Khaenri’ah, not king/queen). 

The Alberich clan was also probably fairly sized, which is why Chlothar said “you could hardly be expected to know all of us”. Chlothar could have been only one branch of the family, again supporting the idea that Kaeya isn’t necessarily a direct descendant of his.

-

Moving on to Kaeya specifically.

We all know this man talks in half truths to conceal his lies, so trying to guess which is which is half the fun with him.

I think he’s being truthful when he said he doesn’t know much about Khaenri’ah itself. It was long gone by the time he was born, and he just confirmed for us he was still very young when he was left in Mond.

I think his story about going to Sumeru to look for Khaenri’ah was true, but whether it was really to learn of his heritage? It’s possible, but I think he could of also just been a kid who wanted his father and to go home. After all, Kaeya said it wasn’t long after Crepus took him in that this happened.

I also think Kaeya genuinely didn’t know about the Abyss Order founder being an Alberich. His “huh?”, following silence, and pose all clearly say that he’s thinking and processing that info. Plus he says not once, but twice, that said info just confirmed some suspicions of his. And if Kaeya genuinely didn’t know this, it further supports the idea that the current Alberich Clan isn’t working with the Abyss Order.

Then Kaeya follows that up with calling Dain a pureblood like it’s an accusation. Kaeya’s pupil and skin already had a lot of us believing he might be of mixed heritage, but I think that interaction just confirmed it. I mean Kaeja is a nordic name, but Kaeya is hindi. His name is both Khaenri’ahn and Sumeran. (also noting that the darshan that studies ley lines and elemental magics is represented by a peacock. I will not be surprised in the slightest if Kaeya’s mother was a Sumeran scholar of said darshan)

In all honesty, I’m not sure what this is gonna mean for Kaeya in the long run. I always got the feeling that while Kaeya knows a lot more than he lets on, he also doesn’t have all the info he should. If anything, I'm starting to wonder if that leaked outfit for him is gonna be tied to him looking into his heritage now.

[goldendoodlerlockerlove]

4 for the wip asks :)

Thank you so much!! :D

Sincerely, Me is a very rough WIP name for this WIP fic. It takes place in the universe of the musical Dear Evan Hansen, and it came about because I had the biggest desire in the world to write something Kleinsen-related (Evan Hansen x Jared Kleinman). It actually technically takes place in the movie universe, and I don't even particularly like the movie (I have thoughts). I don't hate it or anything, but it could've been done so much better. Anyway, I made it part of the movie universe so some good content could come from there. So, I guess I'd have to call it Kalsen (Evan Hansen x Jared Kalwani) because they changed his last name for the movie.

It's mainly centered around their daughter, Paige, and her best friend, Tyrone. Paige is Cis and Panromantic, and Tyrone is Trans Masc and Straight. They were definitely a fun duo to write, even though I didn't write that much for this fic. I was actually planning on it being a big, multi-chapter fic, but I might just try to make it a Oneshot so I can just finish it and post it. I'm not sure I can make it a big, multi-chapter fic with this concept, anyway.

Here's a little excerpt for you:

She didn’t answer, opting instead to glance at the trees. “I’m surprised you didn’t mention Jared being Indian first.”

She was well aware of his distaste for her calling her dads by their first names. In her opinion, it was entertaining watching his mouth become agape whenever she did this, so sometimes she’d do it on purpose. It never mattered to her--it was sometimes necessary, to distinguish them, and the two of them weren’t fretful of this habit. However, Tyrone always suggested she call Evan “Dad” and Jared “Pitā” instead, which is the Hindi word for Father. 

She never listened to this advice.

Tyrone began chasing a pebble with his shoe, “Well, he mentions being Jewish a lot more than he does being Indian.”

She sighed, crossing her arms as a sudden, harsh breeze cut through them, “I guess you’re not wrong.”

He didn’t stop harassing the pebble even when they approached her house. It was pretty average, as far as regular houses in suburbia went, being all beige and harsh corners, as well as a roof sharp enough to poke Santa on his journey every Christmas (she stole that joke from Jared).

Annnnd here's another excerpt that comes a little later!

“Paige?” She heard an all-too familiar voice float from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, Dad.” She began striding towards the source as Tyrone shot her a look. “It’s not as if I call them by their first names all the time.”

Jared was perched over the stove, nursing a bottle of water as he continued frying something on a pan. He enjoyed nursing a bottle of alcohol instead on some late nights, but he was trying to consume less for Bri’s sake. “Sorry about your sister. I thought she was going to be napping around now, but I guess it was my mistake assuming she would do anything I expect.”

Paige let out a snicker, “It’s fine, you know Ty loves her anyway.”

She leaned closer, trying to sneak a peek at his latest concoction, “I thought you wouldn’t be home. What is that?”

“I took the day off. It’s Rosh Hashanah, remember? This is chicken breast with leeks and potatoes. Your dad should be coming home soon from the park.” 

Paige felt her hand connecting hard with her face, “Oh God. Oh no. I can’t believe I forgot!”

A strength she always prided herself on was her ability to remember dates more so than everyone else in her family. The fact this one slipped by her was frustrating, to say the least--not to mention Rosh Hashanah was always her favorite Jewish holiday to celebrate. Perhaps Grace was making her more distracted than she first thought.

She turned towards Tyrone, “I’m sorry, I still can’t believe I forgot about this. I was hoping we’d be able to hang out tonight.”

“Well, I can’t see why he can’t stay for dinner.”

Her mouth agape, she turned on her heel to face Jared again, “Who are you and what have you done with my father?”

When he gave her a questioning look, she continued, “You’ve never let anyone stay over for Rosh Hashanah. It’s family time.”

Tyrone gasped, bouncing on the toes of his feet, “Does this mean… you consider me family?”

Paige grit her teeth and elbowed her friend, a fruitless attempt to calm him. One of the things that annoyed Jared the most was people who weren’t part of the family trying to insert themselves into their tight-knight dynamic. Sure, it seemed for a while Tyrone was the exception, but it was still thin ice to tread. A reason why was because someone else, someone older, tried doing the same some time back, and ended up uprooting all of their lives once it was revealed they were a no-good scam-artist. And, for irony’s sake, that person ended up being Grace’s current foster father.

Just for some context, Bri is Paige's little sister (So Evan and Jared have two daughters) and Grace is Paige and Tyrone's bully (mostly Paige's). And I was planning on having it be revealed to Paige the first time all of the events of the musical (Connor's death, The Connor Project, Evan's speech, etc.), which was never mentioned to her before because Evan and Jared were too embarrassed by it all. They kind of wanted to sweep it under the rug, which evidently wasn't the best way to handle the situation.

[ffearlesscowardd]

Who am I ? (Indian, but North or South..??)

Well weird title huh....! I know and my apologies for that.

I am a mere introvert boy of 18 who is sitting right now in a bus stop and writing my first blog, I guess!.

Well I truly don't know how many audience I will grasp but right now from anywhere in the world's corner you are reading this I will like to say that this blog and the future blogs will be purely my life experiences and traumas which you might also relate in many ways. Well I was kind of frustrated so all of a sudden I got the idea to write my feelings and here I am.

Yeah!! Indian but north or south; many people (mostly readers from India) could have pieced the content of the blog from the title. I still can't digest the fact that why an Indian try to classify other Indian for where they are from, what race they are, what colour they are, what beliefs they have, what culture they have inherited, what type of linguistic features differentiate the other person from them, and mostly WHAT RELIGION THEY ARE.

I still remember an incident where one of my friend back in the days when I was around 15 called me "sala madrasi" (means a person from so called south India in not so friendly and polite way).

So yeah basically for the people who like to classify whether north or south. I am from South. But there ain't a big deal whether you classify or not but it does make a deal when you classify to shame or humiliate a person for how different they are from you.

From my kindergarten school days till my high school days there never went a single day when I was not bullied by classmates for how different I looked or how different I spoke, and that used to upset me a lot. Honestly speaking I used to hide my tears from my parents, and used to cry real hard during night and just asked to god that why you punished me and made me so different, mostly my colour. Honestly speaking I hardly used to have any friends and I hardly have any friends. Well now I am just grateful for what I am!, no complains to god at all.

Looks like my colour was not the only thing they had problem with. They also used to mock the way I used to speak. Well you develop your language skill from your mother, so how good she trains you the good you become. My mom used to teach me my mother tongue so that will not cut of from my own culture and my own people; so even before I spoke hindi i used to speak my own mother tongue, and because of that my tongue in the initial days was developed to speak my mother tongue which lead a really strong accent in my hindi. And also a child grasp how they are taught and my mom used to teach me hindi as well so i learend hindi accordingly. So from my kindergarten till my primary school I used to get bullied for my speaking also.

There were several more things i used to get bullied for and will write about it in the future blogs.

Believe it or not when I say this but 7-12 years are the time when you are so sensitive and get hurt really easily. Once in my primary school time I had a friend and for privacy let's call him wagonR. So wagonR and I were really good friends and have pretty good memories as well (the funniest one being we after dismissal checking the classrooms to find some good loots and while doing he searching a trash can and getting a branded watch.). We were really good of friends and had a lot of fun time together in school. But one day for my night mare wagonR comes to me and was like bro I will not talk to you anymore because my father told me that you should not go and make friends with the wrong sort. I was in standard 3 back then and just imagine how bad a 8 year old would have been hurt by those lines. Well afterwards we never spoke to each other much and I changed the school next year for xyz reasons.

The thing is, wagonR had no problems with me but his father had some problem after he heard that his son had friendship with a weirdo like me. Well I always thought that India is one country but nahhh somewhere or the other the people in India have problem with each other.

Well this all is lead by lack of knowledge and which in fact leads into prejudice. Well for me knowledge is good but half knowledge is dangerous.

But it doesn't mean that all my experiences was bad, and all the time people used to bully me. Their were a few friends who were always fascinated with me and always were eager to learn more about my place and teach me more about their tradition and beliefs. Also there is an incident when my parents needed money and were in crisis, the landlord (a kind and humble man) without even asking, helped financially not even without thinking a second thought. My mother also says that when I was young there used to be bachelor boy in our apartment then, who used to take care of me sometimes when my mother and father both were in work and there was no one to take care of me. She also says that once we had a land lady who treated our whole family has her own and I was like a grandson for her.

There are many cases vice versa where racism and discrimination happens to migrant workers and there family who come to south India also. Just to give you an example there are more than 5 lakh migrant workers in just Kerala from different parts of India like Bihar, Jharkhand, Bengal, UP etc; but all are referred as "Bengalis". Dosen't matter whether you are from Bhaktiyarpur or Assam or Kanpur or Bhubaneshwar. If you are a migrant you will be referred as "bengali".

You will be thinking what is so much in calling someone a Bengali. it might be because majority of migrants come from west Bengal so they might have started calling migrants as Bengali to ease the speaking. But trust me my fellow folk if you made it till here ; they aren't. For many Malayalis (not all) the term Bengali has become a term equivalent to "dome, chamar or musahar" . Well if you don't know what they are then they are the name of some socially backward classes. (Trust me fellow if you are loving this writing then my next writing will be in the topic of sc st's).

In Kerala a stereotypical mentality has struck in many peoples head that the migrant labourers coming to kerala come from very low profile houses or they in past might have committed crimes for which they flee and came as a labour. Some also suggest that their are many who have fleed from Bangladesh and work as an illegal migrant. and because of all these things many labourers are treated not so politely and also sometimes are offered less wages.

Well all the above things I have in past heard from many different people and it's not like every people treat them badly or believe in such things about them. I have mostly heard these from unemployed or local political leaders in different occasions, mostly in tea stalls early in the morning. I have never heard a well educated muttering these things, in fact most of the well educates try to ease their life by donating them and showing love and respect. Also once my heart melted when one of my friend's family was treating a migrant who in their house was working as servant as one of their own. He had a lot of freedom in their house. Similarly the Kerala government also helped lots of migrants during the tough times of covid by providing temporary shelters, food and other accommodations.

SO WHAT AM I TRYING TO PROVE????

Well its all just because wherever people go their will be people who will have some superiority complex and will try to bully people who are from different places. Their naive minds will always think that they are the king in their motherland, and a person from different place will never come equal to him. Again its just mostly because of lack of knowledge or half knowledge or half education.

And sadly in the recent times the judgmental nature of Indians are boosting daily and because of that, many dirty political leaders (I won't blame any party cause every party has good and bad leaders, and does good and terrible jobs) who take this in account and spread hatred openly amongst the poor and mostly illiterate people making their brain washed for just few votes. The political leaders are feeding on hatred and instead being wise and try to put stop which they should do are instead promoting these ideas.

I was bullied a lot because of race and colour in the past, but I should admit the fact that it was mostly children, we were kids at that time so that might not have been that intentional from their side. And even if adults have bullied me it were mostly the unemployed or the over judgmental so called superior people.

It always weakens my heart when I think that how over judgement of a person towards a race or a community can spread hate like forest fire. And believe it or not India is going through lot of hate because of RELIGION. Because people had started developing a frame of mind that

THEIR RELIGION IS SUPERIOR AND IT SHOULD BE "PROTECTED"

-----------------x---------x--------x----------------

Note: I am not targeting any particular community, religion, region, political party, leaders or agendas or belief, so please don't hate because of it. And please don't hurt your sentiments, if i did please email me.

And you can also suggest me or support me by simply mailing me. i will be relying to every single email possible.

Thank you for your valuable 5 mins.

Share if you like and relate to it.

Email: fearlesscowardofficial@gmail.com

~~~Fearless Coward

[djd95]

To my Pangga,

I never thought this would happen again. Today, I’m not writing to send you birthday wishes but to express how thankful I am for your existence.

Pangga, thank you for turning my darkest days into bright ones. Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I’m close to giving up on myself. Thank you for listening to my endless kwentos, no matter how senseless they might seem. Salamat for always accepting my ideas, correcting me when I’m wrong, and believing in me when no one else does. Thank you for always being there, no matter what.

Pero higit sa lahat ng pasasalamat, gusto ko ring humingi ng tawad. Sorry kung minsan nararamdaman mong second option ka lang—hindi ‘yan totoo (kung ako lang ang masusunod, ikaw lagi ang pipiliin). Sorry sa mga panahong parang lagi kitang inaaway. Sorry kung minsan napaparamdam ko sa’yo na mali ka, or that you’re not enough. Sorry sa lahat ng pagkukulang ko noon at hanggang ngayon.

Alam ko na madalas, hirap ka rin kung sino ang dapat piliin o kung saan ka dapat tumayo. Pero salamat dahil kahit mahirap, pilit mo akong pinipili.

You are my greatest blessing, Pangga, and I’m so thankful for you every single day.

Kahit saan man tayo dalhin ng alon ng tadhana, huwag mong kalilimutan, ikaw ang bituin ng aking gabi’t umaga. Anuman ang wakas ng kwento nating dalawa, Ikaw ang mananatiling himig sa puso kong umaawit ng pag-asa.

Ikaw ang aking pangarap na hindi malilimutan, ang tula sa puso kong walang hangganan. Sa bawat tibok, pangalan mo ang sigaw, at mananatili kang bahagi ng kaluluwa kong ikaw ang tinatanaw.

Mahal na mahal kita, Pangga! Happy Birthday 😚

[purpldazed]

Sept 23, 2024.

Hi stranger,

It wasn't easy to reach out to you and explain what happened in the past two years but I know that it was my mistake to be with my ex and hide what I was dealing with. I fell in love with you somewhere along the lines of being purely platonic best friends and between the all nighters we used to have. With you, I was able to know that love wasn't all consuming like I initially believed. It's funny that I didn't even know that I've been in love with you for the past six years but then again, it was a slow free fall for me. 

What I felt then and now, it had always stayed the same even when we came to change through time and the seasons that had passed when we ended through that misunderstanding of ours. We were just girls who turned into women together and we even experienced accepting our sexualities together. You were colored in every part of me and my life then, even now. All I ever felt was contentment with you, stranger. I was never able to long for anything that you couldn't give whether it was just friendship and shared conversations through eye contact in a crowded room or something beyond the familiarity of our friendship. You were more than enough for me.

But you didn't reach out after you asked me about my feelings and I told the truth. I was left hanging after you told me that it was easier to communicate through messages— “I don't mind our way of communication. It's enough to show our care for each other and keep our distance to avoid breaking each other again,” and then you told me that whatever we hold will pass. “Lilipas rin naman 'to. Kahit mag-explain ka or Hindi tayo magkaroon ng closure kung san nga ba nagkamali lahat.” But it's hard to believe when you're sending me messages only I can decipher and read through understanding the way your mind works.

You're scared. You're hurt yet, you want us to work out like we did in the past. I understand you and why you hurt. I don't blame you for anything but, I'm truly a mess after seeing the highlight on your account and how the last frame only consists of a small glimpse of my letter to you. I was stupid to confess that I fell in love with you but I was dumb to not know that you had once felt the same, too. Years before I realized my own feelings and now it feels like time itself is weaving a cruel play of us. 

You can't ask me to stay because we might end up fix whatever was broken. I can't hang around to wait if this is something more than another friendship break-up. I miss you too deeply these days, stranger. I can't keep listening to our favorite album and hate the idea that I'll leave this country that had became painted in all the hues made of everything that is you. It was wrong for me to fall in love but that's the thing about the free fall and the tenderness, I didn't even know I loved you until it was a little bit too late. 

Although I do know that I have to pick myself for once and I can't stick around in this small town to wait for your answer whether it's the end of us or if I'm waiting for anything at all. Two years was enough and for six years, my heart had only been yours. I can't drop everything in my life just to accommodate when you finally decide to reach out to me again. Am I going to be left waiting around for two years again? I don't think I want to know the answer anymore. I love you and I'm starting to love myself too, stranger.

Hopefully it won't be a goodbye but a see-you-later for now. If I ever see you in this small town or around places we used to call ours, I won't turn the other way whether you'll smile at me or act like I'm truly the ghost of your past. 

- A.