#i cant believe im pulling a cruel intentions move but

[gldenhrs]

*    ◟  open starter    /  kathy kennedy’s charity gala  , 10:34pm .  ​​

                          like the doting ,  picturesque daughter  that she is to anyone who dares to question where the supermodel’s  loyalty  lies , it’s no wonder she’s front  &  center beside her mother at one of her events .  with most of the family  once again  dragged through the mud with scandals  &  breakups , it’s lena who now has to  pick up the pieces  by returning in front of the cameras the second  fashion week’s  over . however , the brunette bombshell has no intentions on doing this sober  &  what other way to store a little  pick me up   than in her adorned   cross necklace  hanging down her bosoms ?  after inhaling the white powder in the powder room  (  ironically  )  ,  the femme sighs as the drugs enter her system just as the doors fly open , the person standing there catching her in the act  .  ❝  ---  can u knock first ?  ❝  she’s annoyed as she slowly turns around ,  ❝  most people here are already on adderall , which is pretty much the same thing , only legal ,  ❝ 

[evangclines-blog1]

what  if  we  ......  pretended  this  was  a  good  intro  .....  aha  just  kidding  .....  unless  ?  i  was  just  gonna  link  to  all  my  stuff  but  ...  ur  girl  wrote  a  lot  and  i  don’t  wanna  be  cruel  and  force  u  all  to  read  everything  JDBWBDJBWJ  so  here we  go  !!   <3

( VENUS, PARK SOOYOUNG, CIS FEMALE, SHE /HER ) guess what, EVANGELINE RHEE has just landed in cannes with their private jet. they are a TWENTY-TWO year old socialite, who spends much of their time & money UPDATING THEIR SKINCARE ROUTINE. i think their family is in the ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY and their net worth is around 10B USD.   

first things first ... i’m gonna drop some links in case u want to read everything i wrote at 6 am the day the submit closed bc im stoopid like that <3 

here u can find her full bio, stats, extended stats, and hcs ! the hcs are definitely the most fun to read so i recommend going to that page hehe

into the summary we go !

BACKSTORY:  suicide mention tw

eva’s dad is a movie producer and her mom was the beautiful woman he met at a train station <3 her parents had a very whirlwind romance, very love at first sight, very passionate and intense type of relationship literally everything you see in hollywood ? they had that ! they got married after only a year of knowing each other and had eva soon after 

thats when things got not-so-picturesque /: after having eva, her mom entered a pretty dark depression. eva’s dad ( who had been aware of his wife’s mental health and even warned by her family against doing anything crazy like getting married and having a whole baby so fast ) was kinda in denial about everything. eva’s mom still had her good days, but the bad days were really bad & when eva was only two years old her mom had an accident & passed away 

so while eva’s dad was grieving, he sent little eva to new york city to go live with her grandma !! eva adored her grandmother more than anyone else. she was a retired jazz singer, and a lot of what they did together was sit around and listen to old records <3 eva lived with her until she was five years old & that’s pretty much the only childhood she can remember since her mom died when she was so young !! 

when her dad brings eva back to france, he’s doing a lot better. he’s back to producing movies and throwing parties and being a part of society again ( things he had stopped while he was grieving for his wife ) and he even found his own form of “medicine” which was simply the company of beautiful women ! most of them were young actresses he met through his work, all of them were gorgeous, and they all adored little eva <3 

eva adored them right back ! they taught her stuff she imagined all mother’s teach their daughters: how to dress well, how to smell nice, how to get people’s attention, what makeup to wear, how to do your hair, how to speak so everyone hangs on to your every word, etc. she was still a little girl but she was absorbing all these lessons like a sponge, & it’s a big part of why she’s so obsessed with her own femininity and why she’s got this mindset about being beautiful inside & out in order to feel balanced. 

none of the women her dad brought home were ever at her house for more than a week. her father, who had been a notorious bachelor before eva’s mother, seemed incapable of falling in love again. that was his first and maybe only lesson to eva, which was how to break hearts, which is something else she absorbed & carried with her as she grew up

as eva grew up, she kinda became obsessed with trying to imagine what her mom had been like. no one in her family liked to talk about her, especially not her dad, but she knew she looked just like her and she was kinda always trying to fill in the blanks. but then one christmas her dad let it slip that her mom’s death hadn’t been an accident at all, that it had been on purpose. that was kind of the turning point for eva & she just kind of....stopped trying to re imagine her mom after that just kinda wanting to let her rest /:

she also went through a phase of doing stuff just because she could. she’d flirt with people’s boyfriends, she’d make strangers fall in love with her, she’d date people just to break up with them suddenly, etc. she kind of realized just how much she could get away with, but more than that, just how far people would go when they fell in love. she was obsessed with that, but also kind of jealous of those people just because she’d never felt that kind of soul shattering love for someone before and she really does want to </3 while she’s never been in love before, and while she does get bored of lovers easily, she still feels a type of attachment that is sometimes so strong she’s not willing to let the other person go even if she’s being selfish by hanging onto people she can’t get serious abt /: thats just life sometimes......whore rights !

FUN FACTS , PERSONALITY, AND TIDBITS: whore antics tw

 goes by eva, never evangeline. her grandma has always called her angel, and so that nickname has also carried over naturally

libra sun AND moon babey ! read abt it here

wears euphoria makeup to do groceries

 moved from paris to new york city for college to attend columbia university. double majored in english literature and business management. 

created what she called the “manhattan group” in reference to the bloomsbury group, which was a group of associated english writers, intellectuals, philosophers and artists in the first half of the 20th century ( that included writers like virginia woolf ) duringher freshman year. although meetings were supposed to be about discussing literature, it mostly became a place to drink warming champagne, flirt, and gossip. eva hosted the events & meetings off campus inside her loft. the manhattan group only lasted her freshman year though, as rumors of all the underage drinking and “cult-like behavior” persuaded her to drop it. that, and the fact that more than one member had fallen in love with her and things were getting quite tense. 

she never carries a lighter because she likes the way more than one person will offer her one if she asks for a light <3 

it’s a famous rumor that eva once spilled her drink on her chanel mini-dress at a charity gala and stripped down to her lingerie in front of everyone. it would have stayed a rumor if it wasn’t for the instagram story that went up of her only her underwear. 

she has a house phone in her nyc loft that only a select few people ( minus the strangers she’s given the number to while drunk ) know the number 

has a three year old black cat named june that she brought with ehr to cannes <3 

is the proud owner of a black maserati despite being an infamous bad driver. no one in their right mind, especially not her friends, would ever trust eva to drive.

it’s rumored she once snuck onto the yacht of a ceo to a fortune 500 company, only for him to find her in nothing but a bath towel eating chocolates while flipping through his playboy magazines, and that he was so taken with her instead of pressing charges he decided to name the boat after eva.

once spent a whole day walking around paris in a cheap pink wig and calling herself yvette. nobody could figure out why. eva often pulls stunts like this on a whim.

believes 2 is an unlucky number and is very superstitious about it, as that is the year her mother died. fully believes her twenties are cursed and is actually looking forward to the day she turns 30 just to escape the 2′s.

leonardo dicaprio once made a pass at her during the after party of a movie premiere she was attending.

during full moons, eva always has sex with the windows open. even if it’s winter, a window will be cracked open. this is one of her many personal superstitions. 

has a collection of old love letters, mixtapes, and presents past suitors and secret admirers have gifted her. while she cannot remember the origin of quite a few of the objects in her collection, she is attached to them still.

owns a replica of the famous cross necklace filled with cocaine that kathryn had in cruel intentions.

literally i basically just copied most of my hcs page im a clown i cant do summaries...

ok so personality wise ? shes a flirt. a whore, if u will. yes thats a personality trait now. literally if ur breathing shes flirting doesnt matter who u are doesnt matter if ur married if u have 10 kids doesnt matter like she will flirt....does not know how to open her mouth without flirting 

big on aesthetics /: believes everyone should get manicures like if ur cuticles are showing shes gonna gag . get help <3

not good at being held accountable for her actions. she’s not really the type to be malicious on purpose, but since she really does play with ppls feelings a lot it’s inevitable she’s gonna hurt someone but if u bring it up shes just gonna be like .. me ? at fault ? u must have the wrong girl i’m angel ...

likes 2 play games JSBDWBDJW clearly....matters of the heart are her fave kind but she also likes doing kinda ridiculous stuff for fun just to see how ppl are gonna react, also likes to do stuff just bc she knows she can usually get away with it 

loves skin care like she will be ur dermatologist ( self appointed ) she will gift u a moisturizer she will get everyone to do facemasks with her u cannot escape it ...

has trouble being alone but won’t admit it / doesn’t even really realize it ??? like it is... very rare u will ever find her sleeping alone or spending a whole day in just her own company 

not shy.....at all like JBSJDWBJDW she could use some shame but she has zero unfortunately 

despite being a whore....she is a HUGE romantic like whew she is obsessed with old love songs & is always playing them on her record player she loves to slow dance <3 she often gives ppl her fave poems ( usually poems abt sex ), she loves getting roses, loves kissing ppl on the cheek when she’s wearing lipstick, & she likes to leave ppl voicemails like ... shes really living like she is the main chara of a romance movie and everyone else is extra #5 most of the time... 

idk what else to say im sure shes gonna evolve once we start rping bc that always happens to me but....for now.....this is the end ! *cue feel special by twice*

[jonathankatwhatever]

It was a big day, and I felt your anxiety to my core. I credit myself with one thing: when I’m going to the extremely negative, I analyze it. So today, we both reaped some fruit of the vines of knowledge. How did they confuse knowledge with apple when grapes make wine and wine drives depressive introspection by slowing down your focus? When you drink, the world gets smaller, and your problems appear to solve themselves because the narrowing focus reduces your ability to see them, to link what you’re seeing and doing at the moment to them.

We did a proof. On both ends. And I’d say on both ends of both ends because when something happens at an end, that’s a 0-1 and thus a 1-0-1. If I didnt have that degree of anxiety, I could not have seen through my issue with accepting proof. But why? I’ve relied on oscillation and polarity but what is it for this instance of a problem where I’m having trouble believing I can apply gs as a solution? I resisted applying gs until I could identify a contradiction, which took the form of form inducing over zK, so the contradiction is the concept that this would not occur which is inherent in the question, and that allows phrasing of the positive statement that yes it is. The important point is that you cant just prove the positive without the non-existence of the negative because any negative needs to be noted.

On my walk home, all my anxiety came out and I developed the literal worst thing I’ve ever heard, which transforms I love you into, to shorten the description, a carrot and stick trick where the carrot is whipped away at the end. A cruel, betraying trick.

I did mention that I love games when they’re played cooperatively. I like to play Scrabble as the players are the racks and everyone playing is helping every rack, so now the difference is the different opportunities each has, as they come along - unless you decide to cooperate a level ahead by allocating move locations to generate a higher total. That is fun to me, not the frustrations of searching for the best of a bad lot or having a great word but no place to put it, and most of all the concept that the game is between us, not among us. I would play a lot of Monopoly with younger kids, so we mosly enjoyed the game up to where people start to win or lose big money, which then led to hurt feelings. To me, the pieces are the players, and we should all play the pieces.

That led to a memory; my uncle offered to teach little me chess. I’d never played. He beat me in 3 moves and laughed. He had no intention of teaching chess; he thought this was a funny joke.

I really hope Im not crazy. This is too good not to be true.

So, the negatives poured over me as I flipped threads over, and said that these form different sets according to threads, and that these sets idealize to 1-0-1. So a level of anxiety which reached deep manifested as fear that your success was too much for me, meaning that somehow your success lessens odds. This is a parental fear, that success pulls your child away from you. I’ve lived it as a parent. I have clearly felt, being a child, the layers of inhibitions which keep children from reaching their potential. And I’ve seen how it manifests as a parent, how they either self-constrain according to how they see success or they how they are unable to constrain, and so on. It came up today, I think, because it’s a deep issue: pride. I wrote about how I’m proud, and that proud has a lot of meanings, all of which apply, but it took longer and was depressing.

Almost forgot one: the distribution of the non-trivial 0’s in the zeta is the ½ line of the gs, but that also means these count out zK in a sort of shadow count of x that wraps to ½. That means an equivalent is the zK line as grid squares divided in half, with the 0’s line shifted to ½ because that transforms the count to the yK grid line, which is a stacked zK. That implants quadrants. And that connects to the ++ proof, that operation take place in a ++ image. That means the counts in yK are iterations of that ++ image. Which deeply connects primes to 1s of a specific form, which is that which uniquely expands and contracts only to 1 or to its limit of entirety, which means contraction from 0 to 1 and back since you only need to remoe the 1 to count 0.

[jameswrites]

On Trauma and my voice

I lack subtlety online, even as I have tact out the ass. I’ll be as obnoxious and bold as I want, but when it comes to telling someone that I do not like something, suddenly I pull the brakes, put on the special gloves, and make sure I phrase things as kindly as possible--as long as I believe that they will be respectful of my existence as a person.

My mom says something shitty to me? (She can’t anymore, I have let her out of my life, but this is a thought game.) I might say something shitty back, just as boldly as she is “subtle” in her cruelty.

Mom: I think boys would like you better if you grew out your hair. That’s what you want since you’re “gay” right?

Me: You look far better when you’re not talking, but here we are.

These are extremely real things that I, someone who was abused physically, emotionally, and financially (thanks for the lack of monies, even though now my credit ain’t so great!) by her as an adult, have said to and about her and others like her who have lost all good will. I have been that blunt and cold in my cuts to her after years of casually accepting her subtle jabs at my personhood.

But if a friend was like, “Hey, you look really good with long hair! I hope you keep it for a while.”

I’d be like, “Fuck yeah, me too thanks for noticing!

Because, after realizing that compulsory short hair isn’t a facet of masculinity and I don’t have to tolerate that shit, I started to grow out my hair and shave my mustache so I just have a beard and long curly hair.

But if a friend said something like: You’d look bad if you shaved your mustache.

I’d not know what to say. Because that has happened. My kid gloves went on, and suddenly I was swimming, because every bone in my body wants to react as I would with my mom because I FOUGHT FOR YEARS to be able to snap reply when someone is horrible to me, but this is a friend and someone I like and not someone who is abusive, so why does this feel so bad and--BREATHE-- should I say something? Do I bother? Does this make them someone I should put a mental red flag on? Do I just suck it up and let it go?

And sometimes I don’t say anything. It festers, but I put it out of my head as best I can.

And sometimes I do say something. And if they react like, “Oh! I’m so sorry!” then it’s fine.

And if they turn the blame onto me, it’s a definite red flag up, but I can move on, let it be.

And sometimes that just keeps happening, wave after wave of me gently bringing it up until one day it all spills out and I am not gentle anymore. I react like I might with my mom, or worse, if it’s particularly bad.

And then, gosh golly, I’m the bad one, aren’t I? I’m the one who just suddenly went “crazy” even though I have months of documented attempts to peacefully, despite my fears and anxieties, try to solve the issues of being insulted low-key and high-key by a friend. Over and over. I have pages and pages of conversations and hours spent working with my therapist and others on how to best be a good friend to a guy who just needed me to help him understand how he was messing up, exactly when it happened, in exactly the way he could understand it, or else it wasn’t enough.

And when I lost my cool, he used that as justification to become dangerous. To say I triggered him. Into threatening me with violence.

So for the last almost 2 months I have had to stay with him in this house, him moving about at 2am just being a loud noisy fucker because he can, because what can I say about it?

And I have PTSD flaring up all the time, and I try my best to just say well he’s leaving soon. But soon feels like months away, even though recently we found out it was supposed to be today. And then he switched it, made it August 1. 

It’s funny, my rapists, plural, are people I can put in my mental trunk and lock away until I am ready to deal with thoughts about him, but just as I am going to sleep some nights, he starts stomping around upstairs. I hear him all the time, even when he’s not there. My other roommates move about, and sometimes I fear it’s him, at my door, about ready to break in and try to make good on his threat for compliance.

He beat his stairs hard enough and with enough obvious intent (followed by, he did it so he wouldn’t throw things about and beat me, while he stood by the top of the stairs with me there at the top of them and his hands up by my shoulders, as if to toss me, until I called for help and he backed off) and. I lost track of that thought. I lost track of everything.

6 Weeks of this. 6 weeks of college.

College is sincerely the least difficult thing in my life right now and that’s so fucking funny to me. For every research paper that I find bullshit, for every film fucking analysis that I hate, I hate it because I have to be in my room with him above me, able to make noise on the stairs every time he moves about, in a way that my brain constantly IV drips adrenaline into me for, as if he’ll burst through the door and tear through my chest, alien burster style. My heart certainly pumps like it thinks that.

A summary of a conversation with a friend about this man I used to consider like an older brother:

i cant express how much i hate him rn

like, i

i find it hard to breathe a bit when i think about him and i just got reminded by god only knows what

like, my therapist is sincerely like, "James, I think you need to pull back" and im like "when he leaves i will, but rn im on constant all the triggers, every time im home, for weeks on end"

and they were like "that's something you ahve been through before with jen"

and i laughed

and was like "when's the last time you felt i wasn't safe to leave without a bit more time with you? when's the last time i cried the entire session, or at all?"

and they were like "well, i think it'll be healthier if you can hide him away in your mind for a bit" and im like

"yeah, you're right. right now i cannot do that. i cannot trust he's not going to try something, because he has shown himself to be vindictive, cruel, and petty. and dangerous."

and they just, they werent wrong and also i cant just

turn off my flight or fight or freeze

and if i had when it all happened, i might have been at the bottom of the stairs on my back those months ago

when he leaves, itll be better

but hes not gone and im still so so fuckin shook

and i hate him a lot

like

ill peel back that at some point and understand the nuance

But until then, my flight, fright, fight, freeze, it goes on and on and on until I feel like my heart might stop or run away, because I just can’t do either myself right now.

So I take this, this inability to pull back the fear and anguish and adrenaline, and I motivate myself to write it into my fiction, to peel back my Liam main character, to let him be filled with the pain as a literary proxy for me. He’ll suffer at least as much as I do, and far far more.

And he’ll get a happy ending.

This whole story will be about a happy ending.

Everyone will get what they need, even the ones who are so horrible, so scary, because behind them, there’s a person, and if that person can be reached, perhaps there is hope.

But I will not be writing HIM into this. Because while characters like my jackass parents will be in this story, in small amounts, people who so recently have hurt me don’t get their happy ending here, they can move into something else, feel something else, read something else. There is nothing here for them but ashes in the wind, folks.

[sisky-bizz]

Match your weakness to a name || Awsten

Cold sweat prickled at the back of Awsten's neck as he carefully shuffled free of Andy, draping the pink blanket back over him before clambering quietly off the bed. His heart raced, his limbs trembling as he stumbled over to lean over the rubbish bin in the corner of the room, throwing up out of shock. 

Images flashed in his mind of the dream, as vivid as he remembered it played out before him. He sank quietly down on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest as he took deep but silent breaths. The last thing he wanted was to wake Andy, after nights of not sleeping well the younger had finally passed out, though Awsten was sure it was pure exhaustion that dragged him into the sleep. After minutes of listening to his heart beating in his ears, Awsten reached for the discarded sheets of crumpled paper by the bed, not bothering to read the messy scrawl as he turned the sheet over, grabbing for the pen that lay abandoned beside. 

Beeping. That high pitch noise that rings in your ears. It always makes me think of hospitals. Doesnt it? Thats all I can hear. A few nights now I've woken to the beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of a heart beat. His heart. Its scary to think that the annoying noise that rings so clearly in a hospital room is a mirror of the life inside of a person. A person you love, i guess, if you're visiting in a hospital. Unless its your own. I don't know which is worse. It sounds real as it bounces around inside of my head. Beep. Beep. Each count thudding inside of my body as I watch, closely, for the rise of his chest that accompanies it. It chills me, to think about it. To see him lying there. To know that those machines are keeping him alive. Though nothing is worse than when the bleeping stops. That's when everything goes cold and I wake up to throw up. Tonight is the first night I have been instantly reassured by the soft breaths of him sleeping beside me.  Sometimes i feel my own heart stop with it, when the dream ends and I can't find him. In an instant I am back there, listening to a man shout my name, feel the crack of my ribs beneath his heavy hands. I don't know if you're meant to remember dying, though Im not sure if I actually died. All I remember is growing cold, slick with sweat yet frozen still as everything faded to black. I've never spoken to him about it, the fear and the regret and the guilt of that night. The guilt that flooded every inch of me when I realized that my own father had resuscitated me with his own hands. Those same hands that saved him too. His actions mirrored some 8 years later on no other than my boyfriend. I cant imagine what flashed in my father's mind, on either occasion. And for that, I will always hold a pang of guilt when I look at the man who raised me from birth, the man who saved me from death. It was fear on his face as I raced into that room, as his hands gripped my shoulders as I screamed and fought against him. The only thing I could think or feel was Andy.  Andy. Andy. Andy. Lying there as I was. I don't think I could describe the flood of emotion through my chest, causing me to sob into my father's embrace. What I remember clearly is the desperation to see him, to hear his breath or a snarky comment that could assure me that Andy was okay. These dreams I dont want to concern him with, I don't want to cause more worry or upset than he is already experiencing. Yet im afraid the worry i feel is growing more and more and slipping into the way that I act. I can"t help but panic when I wake up without him, without knowing where he is. It reminds me that I should never have stayed with Katy that night, I should have gone after my boyfriend and offered comfort. But Katy had cried, and Andy had denied any affection to either of us. I felt vulnerable, and I empathize with her for that. That does not mean that I do not regret my decision not to follow him. I slept soundly through the few hours that he tried to end his life. When Hayley burst into the room my heart stopped. I felt it freeze in my chest before legs were moving, carrying me towards the infirmary. I could feel my heart racing then, as I do now. The vomit threatening to rise, to choke me again. I remember my father's grip as he tugged me away from Andys bedside, as he ordered me to leave. But I couldn't listen, I couldn't move or function. I wonder if I should tell him, sometimes I want nothing more than to give him hell for what he made me feel...

Andy had tried to kill himself, using drugs that I had provided. That guilt floods over me once again, causing my body to become heavy. I can only blame myself. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have been presented the opportunity to overdose. It eats at my mind until im sick. I let him do it. He could have died because of my carelessness. Although I blame myself, part of me also blames Katy. She told me I couldn't have known, that I don't know his history.  But surely she had to have known what this would do to him? To find out that she was pregnant, with his child, and had kept it secret without the intention to tell him? Cruel, that's what it is. It is cruel. I dont blame him for reacting the way that he did. However, There is a part of me that fully understands her motivation to hide this part of her life, the fear that drove her to be secretive. She tried to protect him, and herself. And I can't hate her for that. Since the accident, i have spent almost every hour I was allowed by Andy. I can't bare to pull myself away, to leave this hospital and not know whether he is okay. It scares me, and it is all I can think about until I'm back here. Who in the history of the human race felt comfortable in a mental hospital? Maybe Jodie was right about me being a patient here. Which reminds me, that I am almost certain my twin hates me for this new found love interest. Despite her relationship with Cody. I love my sister, my twin, and I do believe that we are one in the same person. But in my years of being her twin, I haven't ever seen her react the way she did. Holly hurt me, and it sounds almost juvenile to write it. But she did. And as far as I understand it was jealously that caused her to try to rip a chunk from my throat with her teeth. She apologized, but that side of Holly confused and shocked me. I've decided that she needs a muzzle before I kick her ass at Mario Kart.

Then I’ll tell her that Andy is my boyfriend.