#most of them anyway. sweats

[territorial-utopia]

This is what it was all for

Happy Midsummer's Eve!!!

[e77y]

Okay. I did it

Tumblr still exists. I am here. Hi

[yujeong]

Me being totally normal: I can surely figure out what page he's at if I stare at it for too long

Also me, staring at it for too long: Wait...is he reading....the foreword...? I can't believe it took me this long to realize Vegas is reading the first page here. It might not even be the foreword, it might be info about the author, it's so funny. But don't worry, the good news is that he's actually reading the book in this scene:

which, of course, you can make the claim that beforehand, he was not in a good mental state (Vegas? not being mentally well? No fucking way right?) so he was trying to distract himself from whatever the fuck the whole thing he's doing at the safehouse is, but after him and Pete talk and bond and all of that good stuff, his mind can focus and actually read the damn book. Sidenote Because I'm a bit insane and very committed in finding things to obsess over with my hyperfixations, I estimated the possible percentage of the book he might be currently at, then went to the appropriate page and found this line there: "He felt very gay and light-headed, and quite forty years younger, as he walked to the door."

I swear to God, it was there, and I laughed so hard they must have heard me over in Thailand.

[servuscallidus]

One thing people should point out when explaining the evils of makeup is the amount of time it takes. It takes ages! And I know people that are really proficient at it can put it all on in ten minutes, but that's still ten minutes of your morning routine. A slow breakfast takes ten minutes, ten more minutes in bed take ten minutes, all way healthier things than putting on makeup

[todayisafridaynight]

THIS IS GONNA SOUND SO MEAN BUT WHY DO U LIKE RYO AOKI/MASATO

masato hot

[vampiremansionpoolboy-moved]

going insane over the fact that happiness and care and concern and love is underneath every interaction between newt and hermann in pacific rim

[homoeroticvillain]

sorta bianca redesign idk

[chimeric-art]

immaculate immolation

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 15

“Over Yet" by Hayley Williams

[catfishofoldin99colours]

me when my coworker is worried another guy in the office doesn't like her: Ah that sucks for her. Glad I'm not affected by that tho

Me when that same guy gives me a short teams message: Ah. Well good thing I don't care about being liked by him or not

Me after thinking about it for maybe 32 seconds: no actually I hate this

[fingertipsmp3]

Sorry but if your tall range is defined as “5’7 and over” I don’t think this is going to work

[yo9urt]

separate post because i forgot to mention it in the first one. the difficulty spikes/unspikes in act 3 of the 2023 game of the year were very interesting to me

[unproduciblesmackdown]

hell yes my "deniably casual sexual encounter in taylor's apartment babeyyy" wip is over 7k words already and i haven't even gotten to the part where anyone's kissing yet. so far it's all In Effect taylor going "is there like, an energy here or is it just me" (there is) in this 7k< form via my classic move of providing wildly extensive introspection that Could be pared down a ton i'm sure but if i was thorough abt editing myself & my verbosity & taking thousands of words to say something, including the same things repeatedly in slightly different ways, writing anything would be all the more difficult / rarely manifested. playing to my strengths / weaknesses w/fiction out here like, see that last billions fic scene that's Supposed to be largely winston somewhat going in circles stuck in his head and also sexual activity. seizing the premise for this one like, taylor being all I'm Extra Pensive Atm But What If That Sets Me Up To Be More Spontaneous When I Go Back Into The Living Room And Quants Have Something Going On. i've triumphantly managed to get taylor out of the living room in the first place and now their being able to return any minute now as soon as i wrap up their thinking about how their quants are sure like special little guys (extraordinary) (least veil of neutrality; readily positive)

[marlynnofmany]

#it's ok #yeah I get blood on the tome but it absorbs the blood immediately and seems to grow younger as it does

There we go; the absolute best practice for book preservation is the Dark Arts.

confidential to our Tumblr followers, we love you the most.

[enjisbf]

my problem is that i think i could be able to pull any Celebrities on my radar

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.