#making it so that people i don’t know don’t actually know me is really funny actually
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goldfades · 3 days ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/goldfades/768009162138517504/title-luke-hughes
What about luke’s reaction? coming into the room after the boys told him he was wrong at practice or something, maybe he saw the comments?
it’s a little past eight when you hear the front door slam. you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a smug grin on your face. the video you posted earlier is still blowing up, comment after comment pouring in. your favorite so far might be the one that reads “he’s so confident it’s actually heartbreaking”—but there’s stiff competition.
the sound of heavy footsteps stomping down the hallway makes your ears perk up, and you sit up straighter just in time for luke to appear in the doorway. he’s still in his practice gear, hair damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed pink, but his expression is what gets you: somewhere between confusion, betrayal, and... is that a pout?
“you,” he says, pointing at you with the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for soap operas. “you set me up.”
you blink innocently, setting your phone down. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
luke steps further into the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “don’t play dumb. the guys wouldn’t shut up about your video during practice. jack kept reading the comments out loud! ‘cuticle pusher means nail thingies? HAHAHA.’ do you know how humiliating that is?”
you’re already biting your lip to keep from laughing, but when he mimics jack’s voice, the dam breaks. you burst into giggles, doubling over as luke groans loudly.
“it’s not funny!” he protests, though the way his ears turn pink suggests he’s more embarrassed than actually mad. “i was so proud of myself, and you—you let me think i was getting them all right!”
wiping a tear from your eye, you manage to catch your breath long enough to speak. “okay, okay, listen. it wasn’t my fault you were so confident! i mean, ‘tight lines’? really?”
he groans again, flopping onto the couch next to you with a dramatic sigh. “i knew something was off when you said i got ‘halo eye’ right. but you were so convincing!” he shoots you a look, half accusing, half amused. “you’re evil. actually evil.”
you snicker, nudging his shoulder. “oh, come on. you were having fun.”
“yeah, until i realized you were setting me up for the internet to roast me,” he mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “look at this—this one says i belong in a museum for confidence alone.”
you glance at his screen and can’t help but laugh again. “they’re not wrong.”
he groans, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and sinking lower into the couch. “i’ll never live this down.”
“oh, stop being dramatic,” you tease, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you made people laugh, and isn’t that what really matters?”
he’s quiet for a moment, then tilts his head toward you, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. “did i at least look good in the video?”
you grin, reaching up to ruffle his curly hair. “you always look good, lukey. even when you’re confidently getting everything wrong.”
his laugh rumbles under your ear as he finally relaxes, letting himself sink into the moment. “you better watch your back, though. payback is coming.”
“oh, i’m shaking,” you say with a smirk, already planning the next video in your head.
↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
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lovecla · 21 hours ago
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© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you:
FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, game plan:
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➴ chapter warnings: none <3
➴ word count: 1.5k
💌 from me to you: and here’s the first chapter of fake it ‘till you make it! posting this sooner than expected in honor of last night’s game. can you guys believe we have nico hischier as our captain? how lucky are we? anyways! i hope you all like this! (the posting schedule will be just like TYPA, every other day!) ♡
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WHEN YOU tell people that being friends with a hot, young NHL player isn’t at all that great, all they do is look at you like you’re batshit crazy, and give you one hundred and fifty four arguments trying to make you, someone who’s been friends with a guy who’s been a NHL star player for the past few years, see how wrong you are.
You love Nico Hischier. You really do. You met him when you were just eighteen, being friends with his sister, Nina, and immediately locking in with Nico. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving man you have ever met in your life, and now that you’re twenty-three, almost twenty-four, you can see how rare men like Nico are.
But now that he’s a famous player, captain of an entire team and known for being one of the hottest men in the NHL, you sure feel like you’re paying a high price for being in his life.
Not in a bad way, though. It just sucks to see the amount of women throwing themselves at his feet, and what sucks even more, is knowing that he won’t even blink an eye at them because he’s head over heels for Nora Ellis, a crazy girl he met two years ago at a party.
Nora is beautiful, you’ll give him that. And usually, you wouldn’t be upset with him having a crush. In fact, you and Nina are always encouraging him to engage in new relationships and meet new people, so that he isn’t only worried about his job.
Nora. She’s the most beautiful black woman you have ever seen. She’s intelligent, she’s funny and she knows things about Hockey like no one else— being the daughter of one of the most talented coaches in the NHL does that to you, you guess.
The only problem with Nora Ellis is the fact that she only cares for men who are in a relationship.
Married or dating, she doesn’t care. Her only goal is to make them give up on their partner to be with her, and once she gets tired of them, she finds another mission to busy herself with.
Nico doesn’t seem to notice that. To be fair, no one really does. She can be very subtle and discreet, and the only reason why you caught up on that in the first place is because every party you go to, you try to blend yourself with the walls, so you don’t get too much attention on yourself.
Nico always tells you to stay by his side and mingle with his friends, but by the end of the night, you’re always sitting near the bathroom door, with a drink in your hands, watching the party unfold with attentive eyes.
And turns out that a lot can happen in the bathroom of a party full of NHL players and Nora Ellis.
So you know she’s not good for him. You’ve tried to talk him out of it more times than you can actually recall, but it’s a dead end. Nico’s in love with her, and has been for two years now. He won’t give up on her unless something really drastic happens, but since Nora is really good at what she does— destroying relationships for fun—, nothing will ever rise to the surface.
“She’s so… pretty,” Nico sighs, sitting on the couch beside you, making you sigh and put your book down, not forgetting to mark the page you were in. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
You smile, touching his cheek, watching with awe as his dimples appear. “It’s fine, Dimples.”
He rolls his eyes as he always does when you call him that, and continues.
“You’re the only one who still listens to me ramble about Nora,” he pouts. “Nina said that if I talk about her one more time, she’ll fly to Newark and personally destroy my phone so I can’t call her anymore.”
You laugh loudly, perfectly picturing Nina saying that.
“And Luca?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.
“Luca just says I need to move on.”
“Well, he’s always been more patient than Nina, that’s for sure,” you nod, placing your book on Nico’s coffee table and bringing your knees close to your chest, resting your head on them. “But… he’s not wrong, y’know?”
Nico gives you the puppy eyes, as he always does whenever someone mentions that he should get over Nora, and you sigh again.
Seeing him like this sucked in every way. And you’ve tried everything— get him on dating apps, blind dates, normal dates, pointing at a pretty girl at a party, literally everything.
And still, he’s not budging.
“I wish she would just look at me. I’m handsome, right?” He looks at you, brown eyes filled with despair.
You spend some seconds analyzing him, as you often liked to do. His brown, hazelnut eyes that shined bright everyday, his hair that’s now a little bit longer than usual, his legs and arms which are absolutely huge— when did he get that big anyway?— and his perfect, charming smile and dimples.
“Emma?”
“O-oh, yeah, you’re… fine, I guess,” you shrug, trying to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Weird. “It’s not about you, Nico, I’ve said that before.”
“Okay, but why won’t she pay attention to me, then?”
Because you don’t have a girlfriend, is what you want to say.
Wait.
“Oh my God!” you jump in your seat, scaring Nico who lets out a loud scream and jumps out of the couch with you.
“What the— Emma.” He puts his hands on his hips, trying to look scary, but you brush him off.
“I know how to make her fall in love with you,” you smile, walking around in circles, trying to organize your thoughts inside your head. Nico. Nora. She thinks she’s in love. Nico’s happy. They get together. She’ll leave him after three months or so. Nico’s sad. But! Nico’s moved on. “God, how did I not think of that before?”
“What are you talking about—”
“We have to date.”
Nico stares at you like you’re crazy, his eyes big and confused. He opens his mouth a few times, probably trying to think of something to say, before closing it and inhaling the air.
You wait for him to say something, but when it’s obvious that he won’t, you continue:
“I know it sounds crazy, and I know what you must be thinking, but hear me out,” you step closer, looking up at him. “Girls sometimes don’t pay attention to guys because… well, because they can’t really see them. Like, for example: there’s this one guy in my office which I don’t care about, he’s just my coworker and nothing else.”
“What does this have to do with—” you put your index finger over his lips, shushing him.
“Wait,” you say. “So, he’s there and he isn’t anything. Until, one night, I had a dream that he’s dating me. And suddenly, I wake up and go to work, and I can’t see him the same way I did before. I start noticing how nice his hair is or how tall he is. Do you understand it now?”
Nico smiles, scratching his forehead with his finger.
“No, Emma. That doesn’t even make sense.”
You snort. “Because you’re a man. But trust me on this one, Nico. The second Nora sees you with someone else, she will notice you.”
Mostly because she’s a whore, but we’ll keep that to ourselves for a while.
“Do you have… like… a crush on me or something?” His face is now red and he gets closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder while he looks like he’s trying to comfort you. “Is that why you want to do this?”
“What— No, what the hell!” you can feel your face getting warm and you step away from him. “No, I don’t have a c-crush on you. I just can’t stand you talking about her anymore. I’m your friend, so I will help you.”
Nico sighs, relieved it seems, still looking unsure.
“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” you say, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “I know it sounds crazy and I know you probably think I’m trying to get something here but in reality—”
“I’ll do it.”
“What?!” you can’t hide your surprise, almost shouting with how loud you spoke.
He smiles, sitting back on the couch, spreading his thighs and stretching his arms. “I mean, you’re never wrong about these love related things. You did get my sister an amazing boyfriend and you did manage to convince my brother to ask that girl out, and now they’re married. So it’s probably my turn to accept your love advice and shit, right?”
You’re starting to feel bad about this whole thing, because you know Nora will probably break his heart in thousands of little pieces, but what else can you do?
It’s the perfect plan, you think to yourself. It’s flawless, and it will work.
“I try my best,” you give him a half-smile, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “But you have to promise me something.”
Nico nods. “Anything.”
“If this doesn’t work out, then you'll move on.”
“Emma—”
“It’s not healthy for you to be thristing over someone for this much time,” you sit on the couch next to him and place your hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “We will fight, and we will fight hard, but if there’s no results in three months, and I’m being generous, we’ll move on. Okay?”
Nico stared at his hands, biting his lips before looking at you again.
“Okay.”
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<next chapter>
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kawoala · 1 day ago
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⁝ KUROO TETSURO 𝜗𝜚 boxer! kuroo 𝜗𝜚
ᰔ word count ; 851
ᰔ content warning ; profanity 、 blood 、 boxer! kuroo 、 implied rich girl! reader 、 kindof poor boy x rich girl? 、 boxer! lev 、 mention of gambling?? (yaku, what r u doing my brother?).
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you’ve never been to a club like this; the people here are a stark contrast to your personality.
whereas they are dark, broody, drugged-out criminals probably raised in trailer parks and trap houses, you were raised to be a good girl with perfect grades - and to never, ever go near drugs or alcohol.
whereas the people around you are dirty, wearing clothes they probably haven’t changed in a week, you’re careful of the people around you, careful not get dirt and muck on your very expensive shirt and your very tiny skirt.
but, you fell in love with kuroo.
four months ago, when your calculus teacher had shown interest in kuroo’s horrible math grades, she’d emailed you, asking if you would be able to tutor him until his grades improved. and of course you said yes because you’re a sucker for extra credit.
and then he was charming and he was funny and he was smart - something you hadn’t expected because, well, you were his tutor. every time you had a session, he made you laugh like it was his job.
so, of course you fell in love with him. and of course you only found out that he was in an illegal boxing ring until after you had confessed to him.
which is how you ended up here; standing in a crowd of criminals, watching your boyfriend beat the shit out of one of his friends for fun.
your brows are furrowed as lev - of all people - throws a right hook, resulting in a line of blood dribbling down kuroo’s upper lip. he’s hot, that’s for certain, but this is not making you happy. your boyfriend's pretty face is getting all messed up.
you blink and then lev is on the floor, sitting with his legs bent, forearms resting against his knees. there’s a smile on his face, despite the blood oozing from his… mouth? nose? you can’t even tell.
and then your eyes drift to kuroo, who’s holding his fists up in victory. you briefly note that they’re not even using gloves, but that thought is dismissed when you lock eyes with your boyfriend.
he’s bleeding, which would make you upset if he didn’t look so fucking hot. there’s a sheen of sweat covering his whole body, shining in the overhead light. his hair is messy - messier than usual, matted to his forehead from sweat. he still has his mouthguard in, but he’s grinning wide as ever. he points to you and winks and your knees are weak.
“lev lost!” yaku exclaims from beside you, knocking you from your trance. you turn to him and tilt your head. “he fucking lost! oh my god, i just lost so much money.”
he puts his head in his hands and curses again, which only makes you laugh. you can’t believe this is a thing that people bet on. and, no offense, but you can’t believe people bet on lev winning.
next thing you know, you’re sitting on a bench in the locker room of the grimy club, bouncing your leg as you watch kuroo unwrap his fists. your eyes are glued to his hands, bloodied and bruised.
“did you have fun?”
you look up to find him staring down at you, lazy smirk on his face. “what? o- oh, um, yeah, it was…” you trail off, eyes drifting down to your now ruined shoes. you hum. “it was kind of… scary, actually.” you can hear him stop moving, so you keep talking. “watching you get hit like that? yeah, that sucked. i mean, don’t get me wrong, you looked really fucking hot, but…” you shrug, sighing.
there’s a silence that hangs in the air. you can tell he’s trying to decide if he should be funny or genuine.
“y/n,” he says slowly. his shoes come into your field of vision, but you know if you look up, you’ll probably start crying. “hey, come on, sweets, look at me.”
as soon as you look up, his hands cup your face and he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips.
when he pulls away, he smiles softly. “i’m okay. you know that right?” you nod and he laughs, pulling you into a hug, smashing your face into his stomach. “i’m okay. you hear me, lady? i’m alright.”
you laugh now, too, pushing away from him playfully. “ugh, i hate you!” you exclaim as he loosens his grip. the smile on his face lets you know that he knows you don’t really mean it. and, of course, you don’t.
he stares at you for a moment longer before jerking his head towards the door. “come on, let’s get out of here. we can go get ice cream or something.”
“ice cream?” you repeat, raising a brow. you stand up, not even reaching his nose. “and what are we going to do when the worker sees your busted lip and freshly bruised eye, hm?”
he inhales, puffing his chest out, holding his breath. he exhales on a laugh, throwing his arm over your shoulders. “yeah, we’ll go through the drive-thru, ‘kay?”
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thelightsandtheroses · 2 days ago
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one: florida!!!!
Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC
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Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠
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Series Masterlist | Next. | A03
Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.
It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?
I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.
This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.
I don’t have that anymore.
I want it though. I miss it.
I think I miss it.
The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.
I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.
I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.
It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.
I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.
Maybe this is finally the one.
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“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”
“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.
“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.
“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.
Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.
Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.
After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.
It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.
Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.
I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.
Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will
“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.
“We’re in here.“
“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”
“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.
“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.
Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.
Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.
“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”
“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”
“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.
 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!
“Oh, right, cool.”
“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”
“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”
Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.
“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”
“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”
“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”
“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”
“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”
“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”
“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.
“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.
It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.
“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”
“How soon is it available?” I ask.
“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”
“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.
“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”
“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”
“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”
“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”
“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”
There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.
I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.
“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.
“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”
“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.
“Daisy.”
“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.
His eyes.
They’re kind. Soulful even.
“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”
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Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.
It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 
Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.
Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.
The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.
It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.
I think I want to.
I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.
I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.
He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.
No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.
“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.
“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.
“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.
“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”
“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”
“Okay.”
He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.
Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.
Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.
The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.
“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.
“Just an Americano.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t approve?”
“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”
“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”
“I’m not judging!”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”
“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”
“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”
“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.
“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”
Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”
“Making a difference?”
“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?
“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”
His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.
“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.
“He looks like you.”
“Poor kid.”
“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”
“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.
I have limited experience with children to say the least.
I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.
I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.
It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.
I can’t go back to that world again.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.
“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”
“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.
“Is what a problem?” I ask.
“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”
“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”
“Right.”
Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.
I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.
“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”
He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”
“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”
“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”
“You do?”
“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”
“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”
Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.
Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.
“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”
“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”
Frankie frowns slightly.
“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”
“Some guy really asked for that?”
“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”
“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”
“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”
Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”
My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.
“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”
“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”
“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”
“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”
“This is going to be good”
“Yeah, yeah it is.”
I think this might be the handshake part.
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vesseloflukola · 1 day ago
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Let’s talk about “Professional Jealousy”, shall we? I feel like most of us know what this actually means. Actual Professional Jealousy is envy that someone else in your profession is doing better at the job than you; that they are more successful or more recognized. However, Nic and Luke tried to convince us that Professional Jealousy was something different altogether. To them, “Professional Jealousy” was when you become jealous any time your scene partner flirts with, talks to, or has an intimate scene with another actor of the opposite sex who is not yourself.
They were actually just plain jealous of one another. I think it was both apparent to the people they worked with, as well as those of us who listened to their answers in interviews on the World Tour.
I mean, why else would all of the other couples dancing around Nic and Sam (Pen and Debling) be pulled out one by one until only Nic and Sam were dancing together so that they could get such a great jealous reaction from Luke as Colin when he sees his Pen and Lord Debling dancing? Luke actually said “ I have to clarify. I WAS fuming. That was completely legit.” Sir? That was the statement he made where Nicola felt the need to tell the fandom about their “Professional Jealousy” in the first place.
Luke continued to show us how jealous he was whenever Nicola would make a flirty remark toward a male interviewer, or talk about her attraction to either Ryan Gosling or Leonardo DiCaprio. He also really didn’t seem to like her looking deep into Luke Thompson’s eye’s when there were questions over what color they were.
Luke isn’t the only jealous one though. Nic admitted she did not like him flirting with all the ladies in the Ton, and she did not love that he had those brothel scenes. She admitted to already being jealous of his next leading lady (which we now know is Lucy Hale) and reminded him that SHE was his “first fake girlfriend”.
It’s funny, because last time I checked, friends don’t get that kind of jealous of one another. However, people who have deeper feelings do. It’s ironic to me how many people have been trying to say Nic and Luke are “just friends”. They have never once said those words.
Luke has called Nic a lovely friend and his Best Friend. Nic has said that Luke is a very special person in her life and she doesn’t have a relationship with anyone else in her life like the one she has with him. Most recently Nic mentioned that a lot of people would like the two of them to get married. What they have never said is “we are just friends”, “please stop shipping us”, or “why would we get married?”. What they have done is give us crumbs here and there. What they have done is continue to mention or reference one another.
We don’t know for sure that they are currently together, but I believe that they are. What we do know is that the pictures we have seen of them lately, they are both glowing. What we do know is that they are back to filming Season 4 with their Bridgerton family. Coincidence? I don’t think so!
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starletdust · 3 days ago
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kaveh is noooottttt similar to aventurine!!!!!
we do not condone disinformation in the museum!!!!!!!!! /silly
yes the whole smart autistic man with his blond counterpart is funny but that’s the only significant similarity between kaveh and aven (maybe the gayness too) !!
aventurine’s mother died in a way that could not be helped, when aventurine was VERY young. he has little to no memory of her, and there is no evidence of a truly memorable, concrete relationship. meanwhile, kaveh’s mother was very much there for him, at least until schooling. even if he didn’t really want her to move, he still played a small part in her departure, supporting her in a new life in fontaine and understanding her depression — and she wasn’t fully cut off, as it had been mentioned he later attended a wedding of hers. she is also a direct factor in his pursuit in architecture.
kaveh is a freelance artist, who lives off of commission and not a scheduled pay. aventurine works for the IPC and also makes a ton more money.
aventurine’s expertise is marketing and finance, a common high-paying job / route people take; he had no other true options with the job offer, however. he is essentially chained to the IPC until he makes a mistake too big or simply dies. kaveh made the decision on what to work on, and knows about the instability of his job. aventurine makes plans, but has also been shown just going with the flow before, which fits with his personality as well — kaveh seems to flourish in routine, with constant, familiar expectations placed upon him (enter rent with alhaitham) despite his knack for making impulsive decisions.
aventurine struggles much, much more with placing trust in people. truly, the only real friend he has is ratio (or more than friend, however u wanna see it) — topaz is not a close friend!!!!!! she is a colleague!!! she only knows him with his façade!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! — but knowing his past, it makes sense on why he places so much energy into having a more approachable front.
on the other hand, kaveh is a naturally very expressive person !! he has his group (4ggravate), and has a genuine relationship with them (again, however you may see that). he often places others’ needs before his own, and can even be a little naive at times.
in conclusion uhhhhhhmmm ive seen too many tiktoks saying this and it’s grinding my gears!!!!!!!!! i also just felt like yappign
this was meant to be like ,, easy direct contrasts between them but actually i don’t have a lot of examples this is kinda embarrassing
also may be obvious but i have dove into kaveh’s character much more than aventurine’s if anything is wrong pleas tell me ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა
(@twinypwupy)
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hannahssimblr · 2 days ago
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We surface eventually, and clamber down the back stairs and out into sharp morning light, squinting against the sun. I feel like a vampire. My friends’ faces are gaunt and drawn, eyes still black. They look like they’ve been dead for a week. 
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Except Jen, sober Jen, who smiles sleepily and stretches her arms, breath condensing in the cold air. “God, that was mad,” she says. “What time is it?”
“Eight,” I say. Being out in the daylight like this is always weird, with families walking around, people going to work, while we are like creatures who have dug our way out of the earth, lurching toward home amongst the living. My mouth is so dry, and my jaw hurts. I foresee an afternoon spent throwing up, head in the toilet bowl, groaning as Jonas hammers on the door, appealing to my sense of humanity by reminding me there’s only one bathroom in the apartment.   
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“Oh, well, I should probably pack my bags and stuff.” Jen says.
I rub my eyes. “Oh, your flight.”
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“Oh, Jen,” Dalia says with a big sad face, “I wish you could stay,” they hug, and rock each other side to side. “Please, come back and visit. This was so fun.”
“I swear!” Jen says. “I love you guys. Come see me in Dublin!”
“Don’t make them go there,” I say, to which she laughs. “Actually, yeah. Never mind. I’ll come back here! And for longer!”
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“Please!” Elias and Dalia cry in unison, and then we leave, trudging toward the train station. 
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She snoozes on my shoulder on the U-Bahn, while Jonas and I, wired, wide awake, stare at our reflections in the window all the way back to Kreutzberg. 
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I lie on my bed, eyes on the cracks on the ceiling, while Jen shoves things into her suitcase. She’s cleaned off all her makeup, leaving black smudged wiped crumpled on the surrounding floor. 
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“This was so fun,” she’s saying. “I had such a good time. I mean, last night was amazing. Did you see I kissed that girl with the fan?”
“The fan?”
“Yeah, she was carrying this weird, lacy fan. Anyway, she was dead pretty. I wish I’d gotten her number.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I tried, but she didn’t speak English. There was no point.”
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“So you didn’t speak before you starting kissing her.”
“No, we didn’t need to. I just met her eyes across the dancefloor and we both knew.”
“Ah, nice.”
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The mattress shifts under her weight, and her face slides into my vision, pink cheeked, with eyeliner still smudged in the spaces between her lashes. “You’re coming down.”
“Yep.”
“Poor Judie. Rough day ahead.”
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“Honestly, it’ll probably be a few days. A week, even.”
“Oof. Do you do this a lot?”
“Too much, probably.”
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“Oh well,” she plonks back down to the rug and continues shoving things into her case. “At least I know you’re having fun over here. I’d be worried you’re suffering.”
“Do you worry about that?”
“Kind of.”
I laugh gently. “No, Jenny. I’m not suffering. Things are good.”
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She struggles with the zip, and it rasps lowly against the bulk. “I was worried I wouldn’t like your friends, you know. I’m glad I met them, because they’re amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I wish they were my friends. Jonas is adorable. Elias too, so fun, and Dalia is probably the coolest girl I ever met in my life. I never got to ask her what part of America she comes from.”
“Pittsburgh.”
“I dunno where that is.”
“Nowhere close to where I grew up.”
“You sound different when you talk to her.”
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Turning my head is an effort, and the room lurches a little. Later, I’ll probably be so dizzy that standing up feels like getting off the waltzers. “How so?”
“Your accent gets more American. Did you know that?”
“No.”
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“Well, it does. I suppose when you’re talking to someone from the states you kind of copy what they’re doing, or something. It’s just funny, because you weren’t like that at home.”
“With dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s not like I really talk to him, is it?”
She pauses thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve heard you say ‘okay’ to him a few times.”
“Hm,” I say. “Well, maybe I’ll lose my Irish accent while I’m here.”
“Would you like to?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
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I shut my eyes in the hopes it will stave off the wave of dizziness that comes over me. My temples throb gently with the onset of a headache. I half listen as Jen goes on about how great my friends are, Jonas, Elias, Dalia. Perhaps she’s hoping I won’t notice who she has left out, but she is wrong. 
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“What did you think of Astrid?” I say, and she pauses, just for a beat, before answering with enormous enthusiasm. 
“Oh, she’s gorgeous. You were right. Even better in person than in the pictures.”
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“Yeah.” I roll on my side. “She’s incredible looking, I know, but… like, did you like her?”
“Of course I did.”
“Yeah?”
“She’s so nice.”
I hesitate. Astrid isn’t that nice. At least it’s not a word I would use to describe her ahead of something like intelligent, confident, shrewd. Out of all the traits she has that I admire, I couldn’t say her niceness is something that sticks out. It’s not important to me, and I require it from her. Nice isn’t untrue, exactly, but it's not a real answer.
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“Your opinion is really important to me,” I say, and she busies herself in her backpack, double checking for her phone charger and passport. 
“No, I mean it,” she says distractedly. “She seems to care a lot about you, and that’s the main thing, you know what I mean?”
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On my elbow now, I look at her, pulling things out of her bag and shoving them back in, and my anxiety rises. I wanted our dinner to go a little better, sure, and they could have hit it off more than they did, but Astrid is Astrid. She’s a tough nut to crack at the first meeting. It takes a while for her to warm up, to get comfortable. She takes some getting used to. 
“I know things were a bit awkward there, when we were talking about school, and she didn’t have anything to say and all that.”
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She waves this off. ‘No, it’s fine. She didn’t have to say anything. I was more worried about whether we were annoying her by talking about it so much.”
“I doubt it.”
“It’s alright, like, she doesn’t need to have the same humour as me.”
I frown. “Well, you and I have the same humour. In fact, we’re so alike that I thought you’d get along with her.”
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“We got along.”
“But you weren’t bowled over.”
She sighs, “Jude, don’t make me talk myself into an awkward position.”
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“I’m not doing that. I’m just wondering what you thought.”
“Yeah, but it’s like you’re not accepting my answer.”
“You haven’t answered.”
“I have. I said she’s nice.”
“Yeah, but like, ‘nice’ is a non-answer.”
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“She’s not what I expected, right? But there’s nothing wrong with that. I just always thought you’d prefer to go out with a girl that laughed at the same things as you, or was silly and goofy, or, I don’t know, less… severe. I’ll meet Astrid again, and I’m sure I’ll be bowled over. We just didn’t have a lot of time to get to know each other. It was only a few hours, and, I dunno, Jonas was there too, and I was talking to him, mostly.”
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“I–” I decide to ignore the first part about the girls I supposedly like. “Well, I hope so. I’d be pretty sad if my girlfriend and my best friend didn’t get along.”
“Everyone is friendly here.”
“Right.”
“I can tell you don’t believe me.”
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I sigh reluctantly, and fall back onto the bed. My headache makes my brain slosh against the inside of my skull. “Jenny, I do. I believe you,” I say. “And I’m glad you like her. It’d be really fucking shit for me if you didn’t.”
“Well, I do.”
“I’m glad.”
“Good.”
Beginning // Prev // Next
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strawberrygirll13 · 2 days ago
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I care about you
Dazai x Reader
Pt 1
Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.
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The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I’d die happy.”
You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”
He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”
You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”
He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”
Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”
Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself���Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”
You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”
Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.
“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”
He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”
“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”
He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”
You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.
"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.
You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”
He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”
Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”
He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.
“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.
Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.
With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.
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The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.
You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.
It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.
The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.
He’d moved it.
Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.
“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.
Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”
“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”
“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”
You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.
This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.
Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”
“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”
You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.
His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.
And then, he started writing notes.
At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.
You ignored it.
A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.
By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.
“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”
You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”
He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.
“WHY?”
You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.
For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.
But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.
“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”
You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.
The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.
Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.
“Did you mean it?”
Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.
“Mean what?”
You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.
“That you want me to die with you?”
When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.
It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.
“Yes.”
Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.
“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”
Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.
“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”
“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”
His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”
Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”
You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”
But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.
“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.
For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.
“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.
Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”
His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”
“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”
But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.
A few hours later ~
The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.
It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.
Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.
“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.
“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.
“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.
You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”
His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.
You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”
“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.
As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.
The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.
You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.
As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.
It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.
The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.
At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.
Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.
As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?
The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.
“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.
You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.
“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”
He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."
You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.
Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.
You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.
The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.
Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."
His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.
You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.
"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."
Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.
The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.
Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.
You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"
He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"
You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.
"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."
He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.
Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.
"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.
When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.
"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.
For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.
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literary-illuminati · 2 days ago
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2024 Book Review #63 – Saga, Book 1 by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples
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I first starting reading Saga a literal decade ago (I think literally because Rachel Maddow recommended it on a podcast? Which, god, what a 2010s sort of sentence). I absolutely loved it at the time, and read intermittently until it went on an extended hiatus. So extended, in fact, that I’d kind of assumed the series was dead and only learned it had restarted a couple years ago quite recently. So, seeing as I am now in need of a new comic, I figured I’d restart from scratch and work up to the new stuff. It holds up! (and the letters to the editor are a fascinating cultural time capsule).
The series follows Alana and Marko – star-crossed lovers who eloped together from opposite sides of a brutal and galaxy-spanning race-war – and their newborn daughter Hazel as they evade the numerous forces trying to see them all murdered before than can become an embarrassment. The first arcs of this are most one long blind panic finding transport off-world and only afterwards deciding upon a destination, it’s only in the last volume (with the pointed assistance of Marko’s parents) that there’s any thought of finding stability or a status quo. Along the way, both the family and the series collect a wider and wider circle of colourful hangers-on – and the narrative begins switching focus to give real narrative focus and character arcs to three different groups that find themselves tracking down the family. None of them are particularly happy lives, but they all make for very compelling drama.
The best way to describe this is I suppose a ‘science-fantasy dramedy’. Which sounds viscerally and violently wrong, but the comedy and the drama are both absolutely vital motors keeping it running. And this is the incredibly rare work that actually makes them work together seamlessly. It’s an incredibly vulgar book in a dozen different ways, but the characters are all plausible and compelling, and once you have granted the slightly contrived explanation for why both governments care so immensely about Marko and Alana the plot coheres enough to never take you out of the story. Which is helped by the pacing being fast and tight in a way that always kept me (at least) engaged. I do deduct points for the wise author character basically looking directly at the fourth wall and saying ‘and the profound message of my work is-’ (moreso because said message is truly eye-roll-inducingly vapid and dumb, granted), but that’s easily forgiven.
The comedy was...more hit-or-miss. There is a lot of clever wordplay and funny, high-context character beats. There are also a bunch of just absurd or striking visual gags or background details that really work. And then there is the giant with balls so big and hideous that they almost crush someone to death.
It’s been said (by people with far more knowledge of and investment in the medium than I) that mainstream American comics are these incredible wells of repressed sexuality – full of physically implausible women dressed for a burlesque and with panels framed by a particularly sleazy tabloid photographer, but oddly coy about actually talking about or including sex itself. Which tracks with my limited experiences, but might just be bullshit I don’t know – what I do know is that Saga is basically the exact opposite of that.
Which is to say, this is an intensely sexual comic, but an atypically non-sexualized one. Which is a bit of an odd distinction, but compare how Saga shows an uncensored orgy and how any given artist at a con draws prints of Power Girl and you’ll get the idea. This is on balance a very good thing, occasional junior-high-level visual gags and gross-out humour aside. Sex is a part of life, of varying importance to different people but something present and shaping the world regardless (and Marko and Alana very much do believably seem like a couple that’d have a kid together without a huge excess of planning beforehand).
Aside from Alana, Marko and Hazel (and hangers-on including a phantom babysitter and Marko’s somewhat-approving parents), the various groups hunting them get a really surprising amount of page-count – The Will, Lying Cat and Prince Robot are all basically main characters in their own right, and Gwendolyn, Sophie, Upsher and Doff aren’t fair off. It’s an immense accomplishment that a series of 28-30 page comics manages to bounce between so many characters and always keep them all moving, both physically and emotionally. (The character work and character design of this is worth at least the price of admission on its own, really).
The thing that most makes me love the comic is, I think, how it will introduce characters and tell you explicitly they are murderers and monsters – and then show them struggling and risking their life out of guilt or altruism or love, show them falling for people and being part of rich social worlds, show the trauma and baggage and shitty relationships that made them who they are. Make you care about them and root for them, want them to accomplish what they need to to get a happy ending – and then have them destroy something or kill someone else you’ve grown to care about. Aside from the really obvious stuff about intolerance and war, it’s one of the most consistent themes of the series that monsters have lives and loves too, which is frankly something I wish more stories (and just, people) took to heart.
The setting is glorious, in a ‘mural on the side of a stoner van’ sort of way. Laser guns and spaceships that are giant flying trees, a kingdom of robots with TVs for heads and the planet-sized egg of what’s basically a living black hole – nothing that’s designed to bear scrutiny, but endlessly inventive and evocative and clearly very fun for the artist.
The most striking thing is that – even for now, let alone fucking 2012 – the comic is just incredibly diverse. Even leaving aside the really weird or cartoonishy exaggerated species there’s more diversity in body type and silhouette in one crowd scene of Saga than in most Hollywood movies I’ve seen recently. Same with race and sexuality—the whole setting seeming functionally queernorm except for the one couple whose character arc requires that they come from Planet Homophobia is slightly eyeroll inducing but again, compared to the early 2010s norm it’s soaring so high above the bar you can’t even see the ground.
So yeah, have fallen entirely back in love with it. Can’t wait to start in on Book Two.
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princesscringe · 1 month ago
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Momo wearing Okaruns glasses for a brief moment during the new episode is so fucking funny to me cause there is absolutely no logical explanation for that besides for it being a cutesy ship moment. She was just like oh shit can I borrow your glasses rq I need to serve cunt while going to my fridge to get you iced tea. and he complied with her for some reason.
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theweirdhybrid · 3 months ago
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I love not giving out personal information on the internet where everyone can see!!! Majority of things I say in tags are bullshit!! I have lied to you and I will lie again because guess what! I do not know you! And also it’s funny, I love making things up it’s so fun you all should try it sometime. For example, when was I born? July 7th, 1987. What’s my mother’s name? Jane. What’s MY legal name? Benjamin Gonzalez. What’s my favorite food? Wheatcakes. Favorite color? Aquamarine. Favorite movie? Velocipastor. My favorite shirt? The one that says “I’m older than the internet.” Is any of what I said true? Hell if you know! That’s for me to know and you to wonder about for the next five minutes. Like sorry to burst anyone’s bubble but I do Not know who could be reading my posts or going through my blog at any given opportunity. Likes yes I have my genuine moments but anything that looks like personal info is more than likely a lie
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starlight---starbrights · 6 months ago
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Undertale yellow flowey embroidery
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This took about 40 hours, give or take a few
#I can tell you one thing#Embroidering while having arthritis is really not a piece of cake. When you hand cramps just by holding it at an angle.#At least I can be grateful for my empty schedule#Makes embroidering till the sun rises back up so much easier#Insomnia also helps with this task#I was listening to the ost while working on it and… Live reaction#Occupied turf is so good actually !? Why wasn’t it shown more often !? IT’S FIRE !?#I forgot I only did a pacifist so I got so confused when neutral Flowey came out…#A mother’s love ? Should’ve called this “I’m gonna fuck you up”#The number of time I got my ass handed back to me in this fight is not even funny#The first time is great. The second I only discern my favorites and the sudden change in style. By the third loop I can’t recognize shit#my brain is melting and my eyes are on fire…#Advantages on doing it during daytime. Eyes hurt less. Good stupid tv to listen to in the background Disadvantages. People#Advantages on doing it at night. Alone. Personally work better at night#Disadvantages. No good TV. Time goes by slower…? I don’t know maybe I’m just loosing it with those freaking petals#For reference one petal took me about 3 and a half hours. So yeah… I thought it would never end… Took out almost all my yellow.#When the line tangles itself in the back and you realize only close to the end of it that half went missing#So you have to go backward to entangle it and loose 30 mins because damn it#Cats are not helpful in any of those scenarios#Why do I feel the need to make the back perfect when nobody else but me will know#This is the last time I do one so big without thinking it through#Note to self. Don’t do it standing up when the cats are awake. She just destroyed my stomach#I think i’m losing it#Back after a few weeks#God this white thread is doing my head in… I’m willing to bet my leg half the time I spent on the face was me untangling it.#I’m almost done. It’s finally over. Dark brown took exactly 4 h and 13 mins#undertale#undertale yellow#embroidery#I’m thinking of doing Boris the wolf next. Because I just found the perfect rendition to put on my wall
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deepseawave · 4 months ago
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obsessed w the tags on ur last reblog
Omgg, thank you haha, it was a quality post so I just had to appreciate it in full force 😂❤️
Can‘t believe someone would actually enjoy my yapping :,D
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#guys help is it time for a rebranding?? am I just gonna post about f1 now??#I still can’t believe this has all started because bestie and I were watching Ted Lasso (because I’ve been obsessed with that show for a#while now too) and I paused the episode to talk about how I really like the way Jamie interacts with kids (I’m sorry people being good with#and nice to kids is one of my weaknesses I work with kids now and have been invested in treating kids well forever)#so me saying that apparently reminded her of max and she showed me a video of him with p and yeah it was very effective in making me like#him and then we left the episode on pause and she told me a lot about f1 and max specifically cause I was interested now lmao (funny thing#is that she also got roped into it by our other friends I swear it’s speeding lmao#she also compared him to Jamie from Ted lasso (if you know you know) and showed me some heart wrenching Taylor swift edits (i haven’t#emotionally recovered yet) and yeah that’s how I started consuming way too much f1 content on YouTube and got into this whole mess lmao#oh yeah our friends also made me and another friend make a Tier list for all the drivers based on vibes alone (cause I only knew a bit about#max at that time and the other one knew nothing really) which was very funny too#especially looking back at it (we did some of them so dirty lmao 😂)#I’ve also come to the conclusion that tumblr is still one of the least annoying platforms to engage with other people (still)#YouTube is full of hate comments about drivers and stuff it’s so annoying actually#not to mention Twitter but I don’t go there and probably never will 😂#I personally don’t enjoy fics and scenarios and shipping of real people cause it makes me a bit uncomfy (not judging people who do#you do you as long as it doesn’t negatively affect anyone#but yeah I’d much rather just scroll by those here than have to look away from all the mindless hate and which driver is better discussions#everywhere else like I’m not one to engage with stuff like that but it does upset me to some#degree so yeah tumblr making memes and being rather positive about their drivers (most of what I’ve seen here of course there are gonna be#annoying people everywhere) is much more tolerable and a lot more enjoyable for me#whoops this post got away from me again oh dear#I’ve had the idea for a meme stuck in my head for days now: Max verstappen but make it if you don’t love me at my *swearing on team radio#giving spicy replies and attitude to the media maxplaining and complaining going for risky overtakes* you don’t deserve me at my *precious#interactions with p talking about his cats being a goofball with other drivers and especially danny defending other drivers driving#beautifully in the rain* it’s a package deal you can’t just pick and choose and personally I don’t even get why people complain about some#of the other stuff I appreciate someone who’s passionate and honest and genuinely kind where it matters 🤷🏻‍♀️#I think I’ve seen someone else say that but the more people complain about and criticize max the more I feel the need to defend him#god forbid women have hobbies for real (can’t believe I’ve yapped so much I can’t put more tags 💀)#also shoutout to Oscar Piastri and Danny Ric (I was so happy Oscar won even tho McLaren where being very silly in a not so funny way)
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mint-mumbles · 5 days ago
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Gonna use this image any time someone says something low key sexist about Sable (ie "she's showing too much skin" regarding a fucking bathing suit 😭🤦)
I don't hear you complaining about Spirit 😭
#I swear to god some people in this community#just say ‘cover them up whore’ like a normal sexist does#also people who targeted the sables because of their bathing suit outfit and then others saying it’s fine to do that#because of what she’s wearing… do you not hear yourselves?!#purity culture will be the death of us all#and then when you play sable because you look and dress like her and then people say whoever plays her is a ‘gooner’#get off the fucking internet and talk to an actual alt woman#(this is low key a vague post about someone streaming with their friends and making fun of the sable that joined the three of them because#she had the bathing suit skin on and they were saying shit like ‘what a normal amount of clothing you have’ and the whole chat joined in.#it was the first game and I literally couldn’t watch them after that because it just made me so mad. YOU DON’T KNOW WHO’S BEHIND THE SCREEN#for all you know it’s just an alt woman who likes the outfit and your making fun of her because you think skin = sex = gooner which says a#hella lot about YOU more than the person playing her. if you know who I'm vauging about don't be a dick and harass them or send this to the#I was so mad that I just closed the stream and reblogged sable pictures because this hate against her so fucking insane.#I'm not trying to start drama. I'm just tired of this bullshit. I don't think they knew how insensitive stuff like what they were saying is#(even though they really should have; they're an adult and their words having meaning and they clearly have a young fanbase that looks up#them so they should be more careful about the shit they say) but I'm not here to try to fight anyone. I'm just furious about#constantly having to point out how fucking stupid this is and how it's rooted in sexism and purity culture.#when you say this shit you're not just 'making fun of a character'. you're indirectly making fun of alt women who dress less conservatively#you are indirectly shaming a group of people who already have to deal with prejudice outside of your 'jokes')#I love how misogyny and sexism is such a funny joke to these guys (no I don't)#I’m so fucking sick of how this community treats alt women#(speaking as an alt fashion afab person myself)#anyway. I'm just going to eat my dinner in silence.#nah who am I kidding I'm pulling up [popular 90s anime magical girl show staring 'rabbit' whose tag I don't want this to go to]#dead by daylight#dbd#rant#mint mumbles
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permanentreverie · 8 months ago
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#ok so mini rant session#i am doing a bit better today - little less distraught over getting fired from a job i thought i was doing pretty good at and i was trying#really hard and genuinely enjoying#and just more baffled because truly i had no warning and i was completely blindsided#i was in the middle of a 3 month trial and i would have a review at the end in which i would be offered a permanent position if it went well#and i thought i was making my way towards that! granted i was still making mistakes but genuinely not of such a great scale i thought it#called for my immediate dismissal#that being said i was still VERY MUCH IN TRAINING. i had only been there A MONTH AND A HALF learning COMPLETELY NEW SYSTEMS#and i was told that i had been there a few weeks already and that i wasn’t catching on quick enough. that there were some areas i was#understanding and others i just simply wasn’t#and i asked what areas specifically so that i could learn more and try harder#and they didn’t give me a specific answer.#ok and so. so. i have this insecurity.#that at first impression people will like me. that they may think i’m pretty or kind or funny or whatever#but then they spend time with me or get to know me and realize that that’s all bullshit.#that i’m actually not pretty and im mean and loud and selfish and lazy and rude and etc etc etc#MASSIVE fucking insecurity in that like that’s why i genuinely don’t have friends or a significant other#and that genuinely i’m just a Bad Person#and when i was fired? i was told ‘a persons true colours show after a few weeks’#so that’s MAJORLY fucking me up.#when i was hired i was boasted to about my boss’s hiring process and how she’s ’only been fooled twice’#and the morning before i was fired in a meeting my supervisor told everyone that i was doing quite well.#so yeah i truly had no fucking warning. at fucking all.#hurt and confused and angry and baffled and did i mention hurt#anyways if you’re still here i’m sorry i know this is not a good look for me
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abnormalpsychology · 19 days ago
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thrilling sequel to my poll from back in January
#I wish I was kidding about the eulogy one. I really wish I was#decisions decisions. who to chose#the people I actually like…?? or the people who like me?#these are so stupid I love making them.#bbge polls#bbge.text#more info on each#bc I want to yap abt em#1 - PLEASE return my calls… this girl was so kind and gentlemanly and we had suchhhh awesome chemistry#she goes to an Ivy League so it could be she’s just hella busy w work not ghosting me#I hope it’s that I really liked her :’)#2 - I actually did ask him out. kinda indirectly . and casually. too casually bc now neither of us have brought it up again#he makes me so happy to be around 😭 it makes me kinda emotional#he’s just like… sHOCKING and endearing and never the same#I love him unfortunately no matter what. as a human#3 - SAME FOR HERRRR OMG :( my beloved.#no one has ever been kinder to me maybe.#‘British’ is a downside here bc that means v long distance and . also bc I thought it would be funny to count as a point against her lol#we met during the summer and I miss being around her every day#4 - OKAY. we TOTALLY have chemistry and NOO ONE has acknowledged it. but it’s THERE every time we talk.#and I’ve never really had that w somebody before in this way idk 🫥#I accidentally referred to her as my ‘partner’ when our party members were teamed up together to do something and it was probably FINE but#it sounded so romantic I got embarrassed asf#she can probably tell I like her I don’t think I’m slick 😭😭#and I feel like she might like me too? or we just get along real well I’m not sure#bc we get along like. REALLY well#5 - I stare at her all the time… she is stunning. she writes great poems. soft spoken in this incrediblyyyyy endearing way#I worked up the courage to talk to her n get her number for WEEKS!!!! and then. nothing lol#6 - he’s a great conversationalist… and I know he’s single….. but he also likes Quentin Tarantino like. abnormal amounts idk#shit . I’m out of tags. for the rest uhhh use ur imagination bye :)
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