Just post whatever comes to mind.
Please refrain from excess venting in this thread. Talking about negative emotions is fine but it's best not to dwell on them for too long. TV Tropes is not suited to deal with mental health situations.
If Oscar Wilde had lived in our time, he would be a /b/tard.
Actually, scratch that. He does, and goes by Jethro Q Walrustitty.
Edited by GastonRabbit on Nov 11th 2022 at 8:59:26 AM
one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one one oen the keys make a rhtyhm you know. I can watch my fingers moving a cross them the signsals propagandte from wone to the other to the next to the first to back again, to that j key with no key the keyless key, and. something else
[1] This facsimile operated in part by synAC.Don't know if want....
I spread my wings and I learn how to fly....![]()
Cool.
Inspired equally by Blur’s Think Tank and Kieron Gillen’s Phonogram.
There’s this feeling you get when you’re at some trendy neon cesspool having taken a fistful of downers and choked back a whiskey after a screaming bathroom fight with your girl and a short blurry drive to said club. Everything melts away and you’re left with just your addled brain and a thumping bassline, sitting at a table desparate and alone watching carefree sluts grind against their handlers and looking back on every small way you fucked up.
It’s 90s night. There is a song I know playing. I’m pretty sure it’s Blur, though it might be something else. Regardless, somewhere a British guy wrote a depressing song and it won’t stop playing. Wish it would.
The men in the black suits are watching me again. They’ve been there ever since I was little. I don’t know who they are. I’ve never seen one of them speak, or react. They’re just always there, in the corner of my eye, like a persistent shadow. I don’t think anyone around me notices them explicitly, but it bugs them. Everyone I’ve ever tried to get close to pulls away. Something around me makes them uncomfortable.
The song changes. The men are still there. And suddenly this girl walks up to me.
She’s every Manic Pixie Britpop Dream Girl I’ve ever wished I had. It’s like Noodle from Gorillaz and Natalie Portman circa Garden State bonded into one.
(Stop with the fucking pop-culture references, I tell myself. You need to stop doing that.)
She smiles at me and I can tell that she can see the men, and they don’t bother her. I don’t repel her. Quite the opposite, in fact.
This feeling is confirmed when she pulls a gun out of her purse and shoots one of the men between the eyes.
I jump up and swear loudly. The people in the adjacent booth look up. No one has noticed anything but my expletive. The man whose head exploded not five seconds ago is gone, vanished into thin air. She hands me the gun.
My hands are shaking, my palms sweaty. I take aim and fire. I do this four different times, until the men in the black suits are gone. I look up. The girl is still there, the club pulsates with flashing lights and pounding beats. The girl touches my arm and says hello. The sensation that someone is watching me has vanished.
This night may go something close to well after all.
TL;DR- a short story I made up on the fly.
edited 18th Mar '11 11:07:35 PM by steampowered
We must move forward, not backward. Upward, not forward. And always twirling, twirling, twirling towards freedom.The Ophelia just ain't The Ophelia if The Ophelia ain't sexy as a sexy simile. «thrashing» only plays if the player actually manages to win (usually via cheats) the last boss fight, and is often cited as
[1] This facsimile operated in part by synAC.It hasn't happened yet. You don't want me to conclude the future, do you? People are really just fortune telling machines, and if I conclude the future you will have no fortune to tell. arm of them
[1] This facsimile operated in part by synAC.So you understand why I can't complete that sentence. And wh nobody can, actually. Though maybe the future-people-time-travelers that would cease to exist just kill anybody who trying completes it, I don't know.
[1] This facsimile operated in part by synAC.Theory: Take CYNICAL DARK ANGSTY thing, make everyone inhumanly honest for five minutes at some point relatively early on, and get CRAZY AWESOME parody. Parody in that it's a derivative work, not a joke.
edited 19th Mar '11 1:00:17 AM by Tzetze
[1] This facsimile operated in part by synAC.The first time I saw guillemets (« ») used was in French. They put a space between the symbols and the words, though, « like this ». Tzetze uses them like they do in Switzerland, with no space. That's only as far as far as I know about their range.
whoever wrote this shit needs to step on a rake in a comedic fashionReading the newest Maximum Ride book (shut up), I found this paragraph.
... Excuse me while I go be sick.
There are too many toasters in my chimney!Eyes moving is the coolest thing. Sometimes I just stare at mine in the mirror. But that doesn't really work, so I watch other people. It's a treat for me when that's actually socially acceptable. I think I can even gauge something of your personality from their movements, though I'm probably imagining that.
[1] This facsimile operated in part by synAC.When I have my webcam on, I like to see if I can watch my eyes moving by doing it fast enough for the delay to be visible.
edited 19th Mar '11 1:55:06 AM by SPACETRAVEL
whoever wrote this shit needs to step on a rake in a comedic fashion

@-@
I spread my wings and I learn how to fly....