he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Claire Keane
#extradirty
art blog(derogatory)
EXPECTATIONS
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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izzy's playlists!
we're not kids anymore.
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@cursedvessels
𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒔
indie multi-muse roleplay blog consisting of mostly OCs and a few lightly used canon divergent characters penned by moss (xe/xem) .
-ˋˏ જ⁀➴ 𝖎 𝖒𝖊𝖙 𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖆 𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉 . . . . . ╰──╮✍
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open to all connection: close friend, ex's family who she is still good with, fwb, someone they're dating - any of those really plot: your muse is having a bad morning/day and swung by heather's cafe to get a break. heather's bio here. @indiestarter
“I figured you could use a cup after the morning you’ve had.” Heather had only glanced at her phone, scanning the long paged texts from the other about their day. At the end, it mentioned they were stopping by for some baked goods. Closing time quickly approached, but Heather knew they needed a friend and decided to keep the doors open longer. Ethan agreed to keep Trixie at the house, leaving Heather ample time to sit and listen. “I also made your favorite Cake-in-a-Cup to push some of the stress away.”
A tired smile barely warms his features in response to Heather's initial greeting. He gives a small hum, lips pursing as he nods. "Did I make it sound that bad?" He sort of huffs out a chuckle. It had been pretty rough, but he's not usually a complainer. Heather had always been one to offer a listening ear, though, and she's one of only two friends Shiloh actually allows himself to vent to on occasion. It is a rare occasion, though, so of course she knew it had been weighing on him. He shifts a bit anxiously on his feet and clears his throat, blinking a couple times.
"I'm- I'm- I'm sorry to come by so late, I know you're supposed to be closing up soon, so I'll get out of your hair as fast as I can..."
open: any muse: james ‘jack’ dupont - salaryman verse: modern plot: jack is a social butterfly, who seems to know everything about everyone, which includes y/m aka his new neighbor
there was nothing jack loved more than living in new york. he’d be the first to admit he romanticized the city more than he should, but hey, it’d make his life boring if he didn’t. he liked riding the train and people-watching. he loved the way everyone gathered out in the streets on a beautiful day. exploring the city blocks and finding new spots let him wander. to put it simply: he lived life wandering like an unattended dog.
Finding somewhere to live after getting out of prison had proved difficult. Most places saw his record and didn’t want him around, so they found excuses and ways to decline his application. It didn’t help that he’s pretty much flat broke and out a job, too. Trying to figure out what the hell to do with his life is a whole other problem… One he’s trying not to think about too much.
Of course, his mother would have happily taken him in, but then he’d be so far away from Elise. He’d already missed so much of her life at this point and he doesn’t really want to elongate meeting her anymore than he has to. So, eventually, after many applications and much searching he finds a small apartment in New York, only an hour away from Claire’s place. It isn’t much, but the landlord had been surprisingly understanding of his situation and willing to work with him while he searches for a job. Hell, he even suggested a few places nearby. It was kind. More kind than anyone had treated him in…a long fuckin’ time.
He’s only just moved in a few days ago and is still getting himself situated. He’s a loner by default—shy to a fault—and hasn’t even introduced himself to any of the people on his floor. Needless to say, he’s surprised when he’s climbing the stairs back to his apartment with a load of laundry and finds himself being addressed by some guy in a suit.
He stops, blinking at the man as he climbs to the next floor. Pausing beside him, he listens to him ramble, stone-faced as ever, though he does soften his expression a little. It’s really a surprise the guy had wanted to talk to him at all given how fucking angry he always appears. It isn’t his fault, though. It’s just his face. His neutral expression just happens to be quite intimidating and paired with his muscles and piercing blue eyes, well…Most people avoid bothering him, assuming the worst.
He tilts his head to hear him better, leaning forward a little and eyeing him as he stretches out a hand to shake. He sniffles, clears his throat, and blinks a couple times. A quirked brow. His gaze darts from the outstretched hand to the man to whom it belongs. He probably looks a bit baffled by the unexpected interaction.
“Shiloh,” he says simply, his voice surprisingly timid. He clears his throat and shifts the basket he’s carrying to take Jack’s hand, shaking it firmly. A slightly forced, thin-lipped smile stretches across his face. There's a bit of discomfort made obvious by the way he's shifting his weight from foot to foot. He sniffles, blinking hard a couple times, and then clearing his throat again.
“Most people just call me Shy.”
Shiloh's hand twitches, and for a moment Zetta thinks she's going to need to let go - but then he squeezes her hand back gently, and she beams a smile up at him.
He's definitely too hard on himself, and Zetta has decided it's her job to help that change.
"Which flavours do you like?"
It's easy to follow alongside him - Shiloh seems to know where they're going, so Zetta lets him lead. Even if they don't end up at the exact diner she had in mind, it doesn't really matter.
"Would you like to do that?" She glances sideways up at him. "We don't have to share if you'd rather have your own. If you're worried about cooties." Zetta's teasing him, of course - trying to coax him into coming out of his shell a touch.
He quirks a brow and sucks in a breath when she asks about flavours.
"Oh, gosh, um..." A huff of a sigh. "I'm not really that picky. Not with ice cream, anyway," he chuckles. Indeed, his palate for meals could be much more finicky.
He stays by her side as they trail along, looking down at the pavement and then up at her. She asks if it's what he wants and his eyes widen. He blinks a few times, sort of contemplating. The teasing does illicit a soft laugh, though, and he shakes his head.
"No, I just-- I guess I was surprised is all," he chuckles, a bright smile plastered to his face now. "We can do that. I-- Yes, I'd like to do that."
Bailee & Open
"I see you're back from your date earlier than I expected, here I made some tea, unless you want something stronger because I have stronger things." Bailee held out a hot mug of tea to her roommate.
Eoghan lifts a brow at their roommate when they're already being addressed before they've barely even gotten inside. They blink a few times, a pathetic smile flashing across their face with a small huff.
"Sure feels loike ya knew I'd be back early," he hums, though not accusatory, just curious. He slips off his shoes and shrugs as he crosses over to take the tea. "How 'bout, um...Tea and strong t'in's?"
Ivy & Open
"Yeah I'm okay, just been going through alot at work." Ivy spoke, it was partially true. "I'm sorry, please, what were you talking about?" She asked trying to get the conversation back on track.
Luna eyes her friend quietly for a moment, sympathy awash in her face. Of course, it's impossible for her not to know something deeper is going on for the other. She can feel it. So, they hum a sigh and tilt their head for a moment.
"Y'know, I..have..already forgotten. So, why don' ya tell me what's on your mind, luv?"
open starter ! Merrick “Milo” Hansen. - 28-33, veterinarian, trans-male, low vision, narcoleptic, poor social skills, workaholic, heart of gold plot: y/m found Milo sleeping in his car and got concerned
To anyone passing by, Milo probably looks dead. He's slumped over in the back seat of his car after pulling a 20 hour shift, out cold. It isn't until a stranger taps on his window that the man stirs awake.
At first, they think they've imagined it, so they yawn, stretch, rub at their eyes as they slowly and reluctantly wake themselves. However, they lift their head and squint out the window to find a face staring back at them and they nearly jump out of their damn skin. He turns the car on to roll down the window, blinking sleepily at whoever is standing out there. He probably looks like hell, which doesn't exactly help his case in this rather odd situation.
"Shhhh..it," he sighs, clutching his chest. "I- I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...be in the way or..." He frowns, confused because he couldn't even remember where he'd been parked when he fell asleep. "I'm not homeless, by the way." He felt like that was important.
open starter ! Shiloh Di Caprio –32-36. Half-Italian. Ex-convict. Florist. Tough guy with a soft heart. Tourettes. Anger issues. Terrible RBF. Attends AA regularly to be able to see his daughter. plot: Shy's making some fancy ass pastries from scratch for something (could be your muse's event/party, could be for an event for his daughter, anything goes) and your muse is pleasantly surprised by his skills
--Where'd you learn to do that?
The question hangs in the air for a moment as Shiloh pauses what he's making to look up at them. His tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. "Uhhh..." A shy chuckle huffed past his lips as his gaze falls to the dough on the counter. "I went to culinary school for 2 years," he answers finally, nodding a few times. Sniffle, cheek twitch, blink, blink. "That was the, uh...The first career I tried. First dream I gave up on."
He doesn't talk about that part of his life very often because it had been...complicated. There are a lot of things that far back that Shy wishes to forget. So, to avoid further questions, he sort of waves the other over.
"C'mere, I'll show you how to do it."
reverse starter call - like and I'll come reply to a starter or two of yours
@cursedvessels continued from here! / thank you so much!!!
Melonie makes a face as he talks, but she's listening intently. She feels so silly. For real, how does a thirty year old not know how to make something simple like pasta. She had plenty of fires in her life time, most of which she only had to call the fire department once .... three times? One of those times actually was her first attempt at making pasta. She wanted something fancy. She was tired of eating takeout. It was getting where she couldn't afford to both eat out and pay her utilities. She simply just wanted to grow up.
"Pan, got it." she looks away from him and back down to her pasta sauce. "When do I put the sauce in? When the water is in the pasta?" Melonie looked back up at him like a deer in headlights. She had no idea what she was doing and it was beyond obvious. "This sauce looks really good and I thought that I'd make something good for myself a decent dinner since I just got paid." she doesn't have anything better to do. She lives alone, she had no friends. All really she did was read, watch movies and ... eat takeout.
"I'm sorry I know that this is stupid of me but I've caused a few fires and I just want to learn how to cook something simple. Pasta is supposed to be simple right?" she frowns, sadness finding her features. She's disappointed in herself. "D - do you think I should make some protein with it? I don't know how to cook chicken." she keeps talking as if she knew him, just chatting away.
His eyes stay trained on here even after she looks away. He's not convinced that she understood his instruction, so he waits. It doesn't take long for her to look to him for more answers, completely lost. His brows pinch together with a bit of concern. He clears his throat and awkwardly scratches at his temple with an index finger. He sniffles, blinks.
"Um...Well, no...Not- not exactly, uh..." He glances down at the sauce when she says it looks good and tries not to make a face. Baby blues shift back up to look at her, lips pursed. He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly in understanding. He's always been one for takeout and quick meals for himself because, frankly, it isn't worth the effort to cook himself a meal. However, cooking for others is definitely one of his favourite things to do. He's not entirely sure if he'd be a great teacher, but... At mention of fires, his eyes blow wide and he nods along to her words, chewing his lower lip. He shifts his weight from foot to foot.
"I mean, pasta is generally a simple dish if you're just doing sauce and noodles, sure," he replies, hands on his hips again as he lifts a brow at her. "No. No, I don't-- I think it'll be fine without the protein," he insists rather quickly. God forbid she give herself food poisoning.
"Look, um..." He scratches his chin, frowning contemplatively. "I- I'm Shiloh," he starts, since she ought to know his name before he offers more help. "I, um..." Lips purse. Sniffle, throat clear, blink, blink. "This might sound crazy, so please feel free to decline, uh...But- but it might be easier if I just...show you how to make it?"
Eyes narrow a little and he blinks. Sniffle, cheek twitch. "I- I- I'm not trying to be...weird or anything, it's just I'm...not very good at verbal instructions." A pause. "I mean, I could even show you how to make a sauce that'll be...a hundred times better than that." He nods towards the jar in her hand. "If- if- if you want...that is."
Zetta thinks the gum is a better choice, but also thinks it might sound patronising if she says so out loud.
Instead, she waits until he looks at her again (why does he look so ashamed? So sorry?) to reach out and take his shaking hand and give it a squeeze.
"Milkshakes, then."
It's a quick decision, fed by the fact that he's not actually smoking, and that Zetta thinks he needs something more than a walk to distract him.
"I know a place. They serve their milkshakes in old-style glasses with cherries on top. Maybe we should get one with two straws and share it."
Her gentle grip on his hand is surprising, which causes a slight twitch at first. It isn’t unpleasant, though, and he squeezes hers back. Maybe he’s being too hard on himself, but he can’t help it when he’s constantly being reminded of the past and told he can’t change. Unforgiveable. Irredeemable.
His smile warms a bit when she declares milkshakes and he gives a timid nod of agreement. “Milkshakes, then.” He shifts his gum in his mouth as they head that direction. He’s pretty sure he knows the place she’s talking about. After all, there aren’t many old fashioned diners like that still around.
His cheeks turn a bit pink at the suggestion of sharing a milkshake and he chuckles timidly. He runs his fingers through his hair and shrugs, sniffling and clearing his throat a couple of times.
"Oh...Um, yeah! I mean...If- if that's what you want. We, um...We could do that."
She can see that he battles with the idea - doesn't want to just leave it. In all honesty, it makes Zetta warm that he would so quickly go to bat for her, but she doesn't want a fuss and doesn't want trouble and especially doesn't want trouble for him.
Her hand slips from his shirt to take his when they finally turn around - only to let go easily when he reaches for his cigarettes.
"Thankyou. Both for standing up for me and for stopping when I asked you to."
Which, probably, she doesn't actually need to thank him for, but it still feels right.
Zetta lets out a long breath. "You wanna walk, for a bit, while you-" She indicates the pack. "Or, I dunno, get a milkshake or something? I feel like we need to go somewhere."
Shy's hand is a little shaky as he flips the carton open, staring down at the sticks in the box in silence for a moment. He gives a mute nod in response to her thanks, a fingertip tapping against the edge of the carton contemplatively. He doesn't really feel she has a reason to thank him. That had been...rash. A stupid knee-jerk reaction. He's lucky she was there to set him straight, really. He doesn't have the courage to thank her, though. Not right now. Sniffle, cheek twitch, blink, blink... He clears his throat, finally deciding to swap the carton of cigs for a pack of nicotine gum. He slips a couple of pieces into his mouth and as he cracks them against his molars, he heaves out a sigh, eyelids falling shut.
Then, he briskly starts to nod in answer to her question. When his eyes open again, gentle blue hues pin to Zetta, apologetic and ashamed. His voice comes out in a near whisper when he manages to speak up, "Yeah. Yeah, uhh...Sure. Whatever-- Where- wherever you wanna go."
open to: anyone! (m if eventually romantic) plot: y/m is a customer of the grocery store melonie frequents and she comes up to ask y/m about a recipe.
Holding a container of Classico pasta sauce, she fixes her reading glasses and stares down at the glass. "What the frick is an ounce ... ?" Melonie spoke under her breath, trying to figure out the label. "All I want to do is make fancy pasta." with a three dollar jarred sauce. Fancy as heck. A long pause, she turns to the person next to her. "Hey, uh -- can you tell me what I need to cook this with? Obviously pasta, but do I just heat it up in the microwave? And how much water do you put in a pot for pasta?" she asked them with quickness in her words, obviously confused.
Shiloh's just trying to get some grocery shopping done, which he hates doing more than just about any other chore that one could possibly list. He always forgets things--like his list--and gets distracted or impatient or...Well, any number of things. It's all just a giant shit show in his experience. Alas, he'd had his last excuse of a meal the other night and since Elise is supposed to be staying with him next weekend, his hands are tied. He has to go.
Of course, the only thing that could really make the shopping trip any worse is being perceived. So, naturally, someone speaks to him, which is wild given how fucking pissed off he looks. Not that he is pissed off, that's just his face and being in uncomfortable situations only makes it worse--brows furrowed, lips curved down, arms folded over his chest, his bright blue hues piercing as he searches for what he needs. At first, he doesn't even realize she's talking to him, but then he feels her eyes on him and he looks up, wide-eyed and confused.
Shy blinks hard a couple of times and sniffles, clears his throat. Hands fall to his hips as he glances around as if she could be speaking to literally anyone else, but they're the only two in the aisle. He quirks a brow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he turns to face her. "I...I'm sorry, what?" Had she really just asked him if she should make pasta in a fucking microwave? He's dumbfounded. A hand lifts to rub at his forehead as he takes a breath. His cheek twitches and he clicks his tongue, then blinks a couple of times before he looks up at her again.
"No, uh..." His voice is surprisingly meek given his intimidating demeanour. "You- you- you do it in a pan. On the stove..?" He stares at her blankly, a little concerned that she'd end up burning her own home down if she tried to cook if these were the questions she was asking.
@cursedvessels | continued from ☾
Eoghan is right to be dumbfounded. Tate has outdone himself this time - things aren't normally this charred. It's a wonder he hasn't set off the fire alarm again.
He moves to dump the tray full of ash in the garbage, shooting Oak a grin.
"See, you get me. We'll get something here soon. Feel free to grab my phone."
They can't help but chuckle at the grin shot their way.
"I do get you, but whatever we're getting better be fast as fekk, I'm starving." A small pout. "Why don' we johst go get it? They always take f'rever to deliver anyway..."
anyone wanna do a little back-n-forth ?
@cursedvessels | continued from ☾
"It's not worth it."
Zetta keeps her fingers wrapped in his shirt even as he stops to look down at her - but she's not quite looking back at him.
"C'mon, Shy, let's just go."
Shiloh frowns down at Zetta when she insists. He’s pissed. More pissed because it had been directed at her rather than himself. He can shrug bullshit off when it's him, but...For whatever reason, he's very protective over Zetta. Like a guard dog, ready to bite back at the first sign of a threat.
There's a pause, a moment of contemplation in his eyes. Baby blues flicker from her and back and then he sucks in his cheeks, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself. He sniffles and his cheek twitches. He blinks hard a couple of times before giving a few brisk nods.
"Yeah, okay. You- you're right," he responds in a deflated whisper. She's right. And, anyway, he's not that guy anymore. Blowing up on people at the drop of a hat. It's not who he is. He knows he has more control than that. The instant they start to walk away, he's ducking his head with embarrassment, quickly snatching his cigarettes from his pocket to try and calm his nerves.
better ideas for chance encounters than a bar or coffee shop:
a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait
we’re both in small claims court and i got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there
i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after
i hit you with my car but luckily you’re okay, but we should still exchange information i guess
our friends that we came here with went off together and now we’re making awkward small talk
i was worried about buying something off of someone creepy from craigslist but oh no you’re hot
my friend talked me into playing a drunken game of spin the bottle even though we’re all adults and now we have to make out
we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other
my date just made a scene in public and got arrested and now i’m stranded in a city without a ride home
sharing a cab together
you’re trying to get me to sign a petition and i have no idea what you’re talking about
you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you
i tried to get a part time job at this place right by my house but they hired you instead and i have to see you every day when i go there now
blind date!
my roommate is your ex, and your roommate is my ex, and i caught them sleeping together and told you so now we’re pissed off and going on a date to get away from them even though we didnt really know each other before now
