Janaina Medeiros
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Origami Around
shark vs the universe
d e v o n
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Game of Thrones Daily
JVL
Sade Olutola
One Nice Bug Per Day
we're not kids anymore.
Love Begins
Cosimo Galluzzi
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
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seen from United States
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@endscore
@ 𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙴 ; can you feel how i tremble ? there is a stampede in my blood that unworks me. over and over i pick my bones off the floor and sew them back into the shape of a body. isn't that what life is like ?
for @championshq featuring ;
♡ EMILIO SAKRAYA via instagram ( emilio_sakraya_ )
jalen stared at her before a laugh broke out of him, head tipping back in disbelief. "ric flair drip?" he repeated, looking equal parts impressed and caught off guard. "okay, no, that's a phenomenal answer actually." his eyes dropped to the pinky she still had extended before hooking his with hers easily, mock solemn about it. "cross my heart, your extremely specific karaoke research remains classified. but now i kinda need to know if that's 'cause you secretly know every word or because you just wanna watch this entire town try to recover from hearing it in the middle of a country fundraiser." another glance toward the stage followed before he looked back at her. "also, blue balls on the beach sounds less like a drink and more like a cry for help."
yasmin laughs once more, “ thank you. ” she says with a small bow of her head, “ honestly, its just the one song that really gets me out of my funk but i absolutely butcher it — just not hip enough, i think. ” yasmin moves her hands like a dj spinning a track, awkward and stiff, alleged awkwardness easily materialising into action. in her mind, she’s making a terrible first impression on this gentleman but she tries to ignore the thought with a laugh and a quick sip of her drink. “ sounding like this town might need a lot of help then. ” she comments, raising her eyebrows as her gaze flicks to the various in the crowd nursing their very own blue balls on the beach cocktail.
" well, we definitely can’t have you walkin' outta here lookin' like you lost a fight with a blue raspberry slushie from the gas station down the road, now can we ? " tease slipping easily from glossed lips, though there's warmth settled underneath every word. " besides, you still get the whole beachy vibe with the beach bum breeze ... ain't exactly like texas has an ocean nearby for us to dip our toes into anyway. " the heat outside already unbearable this late in the day. " and technically ? probably not supposed to drink while workin'. unofficially ? " shoulders lift into a small shrug, cerulean hues flickering back toward her with the hint of a grin, as she proceeds to make her drink, " the closest thing I get to livin' dangerously back here is a virgin pina colada. "
she nods her head enthusiastically, “ yes, i’ve learned my lesson after dressing up as an avatar for halloween — blue is definitely not my colour. ” a laugh spills awkwardly from her lips, finger reaching up to scratch her eyebrow, a poor, reflexive attempt to hide the crimson creeping up her cheeks. gosh, she wished she had a remote control for her mouth sometimes. “ settled then ! one alcoholic beach bum breeze and a virgin pina colada for my hero ! ”
" first of all, those sources sound very very unreliable, " a laugh slipping under his breath as he took the little umbrella microphone from her with far too much seriousness. " and secondly ? if a man can't get emotionally invested in a power ballad after a few beers, then what are we even doing here tonight ? " a grin lingering, as he angled the umbrella back toward her, " now let's talk about the real story here ... you voluntarily out in public having fun. did hell freeze over or did you simply come to get a story ? "
she laughs and it’s bubbly, too bubbly and reflexively winces at the sound. “ the little league is appreciative of your tears and support. ” she teases, lips drunkenly trying to find the straw of her drink. she takes a big slurp and it makes that almost guttural sound, drink quickly disappearing as she swirls her straw around the bottom to really try and get her money’s worth. “ you know, a lot of people have been saying something like that all night, and it’s making me re-evaluate my personality T.B.H — like am i really that much of a hard ass ? but then again, i’m glad i am because none of you nerds would ever tell the truth. right ? then again, maybe it’s just the capricorn in me. what’s your star sign wrangler ? ”
delilah blinked at her once, genuinely surprised as irina kept talking because the praise hit harder than the tequila probably intended it to. "well, now i know for a fact you're drunk," she said warmly. "you start givin' heartfelt professional validation in public and suddenly i'm gettin' concerned." still, she didn't move away from the arm around her shoulder. "if i win that award and you don't hate me at least a little, i'm gonna take it personally." the grin tugging at her mouth softened the words and a quiet laugh escaped her before she pointed toward the screen decisively. "fleetwood mac," she decided. "if we're gonna publicly humiliate ourselves, we're doin' it with emotional depth and layered interpersonal tension. very on brand for us, honestly."
let the record show, irina flores never gets this drunk. she is an occasional dirty martini participant and an avid one-glass of red with dinner kind of person and yet, a laugh and half a snort tumbles from cosmopolitan-stained lips, amber eyes squinting in a hazy happiness, shoulders relaxed and forgetting the weight of the world, a disorienting and almost shocking image to many. “ look, i am an. honest drunk, i admit. but also, i really don’t think i’m really that drunk — and don’t worry, i will hate you so much with so much respect. ” she’s not really sure if she’s making sense anymore but oh, well. she’s nodding enthusiastically, grinning as she faces the screen and slowly she feels the room spin. was it always spinning ? “ where are the words ? ”
" lord, moretti … still can't carry a tune to save your life, huh ? " tease slipping past glossed lips, though there's far too much warmth behind it for it to ever truly sting. whatever embarrassment should've existed between them had disappeared somewhere between the chorus and the memories hitting harder than either of them expected. she steps closer without thinking much of it, cerulean hues fixed on him while excitement still flickers easy across softened features, blonde tresses slipping over her shoulder as she bumps against him. the microphone lifts once more, louder now just to match his energy. " another shot of whiskey, can't stop lookin' at the door ... wishin' you'd come sweepin' in the way you did before, " nostalgia settles quietly into her expression, memories of dirt roads, pinky promises, and plans to leave this town together flashing through her mind faster than she can stop them, " and I wonder if I ever cross your mind ... for me, it happens all the time. "
guffaw of a laugh carelessly tumbling from his lips as he shakes his head, “ honestly, i don’t know what you’re talking about, i think i sound like an angel. ” he laughs and God, this feels good, this feels fun ! marco doesn’t remember the last time he genuinely had fun, where his shoulders weren’t up to his ears and when tension didn’t up have him bolt upright like a robot, he feels like a kid again. he drapes an arm around cierra’s shoulder and he’s pulled back into the past once more. just rewind a decade or so and you’d find the two of them doing the same thing in their high school graduation. it was a strange thought, one that makes him melt and lean his head on top of the blonde’s. he sings the chorus, horribly off-tune and yet unabashedly elated. “ guess i’d rather hurt than feeling nothing at all … ”
he seemed sad. she knew because she carried that same deep sadness within herself, something unshakable, soaked so deeply into her bones it felt stitched there for life. maybe that's what grief did to people. maybe once you’d lived through enough of it, you developed an instinct for recognizing it in others. could he see it in her too? then again, what did she know about him? if the past decade had taught her anything, it was that she was a pretty shitty judge of character. what did she know about anything? at his response, the faintest smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, amusement flickering through warm brown eyes. “ impressive. ” she teases, arms folding loosely over her chest in a gesture that feels almost self conscious. “ yes. ” jessa carrington hadn’t slouched a day in her life or, if she had, she’d been corrected so quickly her body had learned never to do it again. “ though if you think this is bad . . . ” and soon she’s lowering herself beside him, every movement graceful and deliberate even as she settles onto the curb, like her body still moved to choreography no matter how casual the moment. “ i even sit upright. insufferable, hmm? ” a soft smile touches her features. even curled slightly inward with her knees drawn closer, her shoulders remain pulled back with practiced discipline, posture impossible to abandon. curious eyes continue studying him before catching on the bruised knuckles wrapped around the beer bottle, her brows knitting faintly together. “ what about you? do you always slouch or is tonight just thanks to your vices? ” she’s teasing, of course, her voice light. he’s built like an athlete which means in this town, he probably is one.
how do you fall apart ? there is something unravelling inside him, something resembling his sanity. ever since childhood, he has always been a series of knots, tightly wound, arguably unbreakable and annoyingly confusing. and, both the cage and the core / the outer and the inner, there in lay his brother. one cannot exist with the other. he had followed his brother into this world, into hockey, into fame. and now, he was alone. and no one seems to understand this kind of isolation, a kind of loneliness he did not even conceive of. and yet, yet there is something different with her. he felt it instantly and ignored it just as quick. his discernment of other people’s nature has always been a weak ability. his focus has always been on his brother and then on himself and then, if energy reserves persevere, only maybe then on others. but now, things shift. now, the focus he only reserved for his brother now seeks an alternative home, energy now craves a different body. his eyes doesn’t leave her as she moves down beside him, gaze unwittingly tracing the fold of her body, the control impresses him, eyebrows raising at her words. with the beer hovering over his lips, he says “ painstakingly, so. ” the liquor provides a welcome filter between his real emotions and the drunken ones and his lips upturn just the slightest at the other’s question, cigarette now finding lips before pursing together for a slow drag. “ occupational hazard — but also, probably, just born this way. ” always wanting to take up less space, always wanting to be invisible, always wanting to hide in his brother’s shadow. and now, he’s forced into the sun — and he feels like it’s burning. “ but i’m guessing, ” he looks at her up and down, there is something he can’t quite place, this posture, this control, it looks trained, almost artificial, “ you were built into … whatever, this is. ” he gestures in her general area.
WHO: Catalina + Marco (@endscore) WHERE: Birthday Dinner Downtown
Growing up in Dallas, Catalina had seen hundreds of thousands of people come and go through the years, and a handful remain. The athletes were always her favorite. Some in their prime, others fresh on the block, and seeing the broken and injured whither into the dust. With her name, there was nothing flashy about their lifestyles, but she definitely enjoyed being adjacent to them. Hence, a private buyout at a premier Italian spot downtown. Walking up to the bar to fetch herself another drink, she gasped in faux shock at the sight of Marco. "Wow, look who decided to grace us with his presence. Where've you been hiding?"
as an active participant in the masterclass of social evasion, pride was blooming in the moretti boy’s chest after a successful conversational detour that landed him alone and at the bar. his gaze is down, nursing his second drink of the night in preparation for his return to the land of sports and small talk. his head snaps up to the direction of the voice, eyebrows raising in surprise, “ hey! ” he says, a little too excited, a little too high-pitched, surprised that his bubble of isolation was popped so quickly. “ not hiding, i promise, just … taking a break. ” he smiles, “ any chance this dinner can end early or what ? ”
molly notices the touch almost immediately — light against the small of her back , careful in a way that makes something tighten unexpectedly in her chest . but she doesn't move away , and only tightens her hold on her drink as she lets him guide her through the blur of the noise and bodies , arm brushing his as they slip past a table of rowdy strangers . " i must be special tonight ... " she says quietly after a moment , glancing up at him from beneath long lashes , " having my own personal bodyguard " there's teasing there , soft and dry around the edges . gaze drifts towards the back exit , small grin lifting her lips as she thinks about the words before they fall from her lips , " although if this gum bench gives me tetanus i'm blaming you personally . "
the crowd almost instantly parts for them, after all, he is pretty hard to miss, 6’3” ( and a half, on a good day ), carved out in muscle, broad shoulders, stocky legs, tree-trunk arms swaying with every step, it is common sense to simply move out the way. a little laugh escapes him as he pushes the metal door with one hand and guides molly out with the other. “ desperate times call for desperate measures, we can’t have those hockey leeches hovering around you — and i don’t know any martial arts but i can sit on them or something, i guess. ” he shrugs his shoulders, “ here we are, as promised. ” he gestures to the an old, vandalised bench under an even older sycamore tree, “ well, if we do get tetanus then at least we can hold each other’s hand when we get the vaccine. ”
WHO: Coco + Tomas (@endscore) WHERE: Pegasus
"Hey," she said, tapping his forearm, "I need you to order me a French 75 since the bartenders are too consumed by being oggled by men than quenching my thirst." She had no clue who this man was, but she needed a drink pronto. Otherwise, this night would become really dull, and who wants to be sober at a nightclub? "Please and thank you."
highly anticipated drink was halfway to his lips when he felt a tap on his arm. he froze and he turned his head at the source of this newfound annoyance, gaze flicking up and down in quick assessment / judgement of this stranger. “ uh, ” he feigns the look of debate, “ no. ” then completes the journey of his drink to his lips, a satisfying ah, quickly following.
me when feeling suspiciously relaxed: what responsibility have i forgotten
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia – 7.01: Frank's Pretty Woman
blinked at him for a second like she was trying to decide if that was concern or an insult, then let out a bright little laugh that came out a touch too fast. she dropped down beside him without really thinking about it, a little off balance, shoulders still buzzing from the night. “ okay, first of all, ” she started, pointing vaguely in his direction like she had a list she was definitely about to lose track of, “ i am not that drunk. i’m like… responsible adjacent. ” she nodded once, very serious about that classification, then immediately broke into another laugh, softer this time, rubbing at her face like she couldn’t believe she just said that out loud. “ second of all, i’ve been giving you a perfectly curated tour of this city all day and you’re out here acting like i’m one bad decision away from emergency services ? ” she leaned back on her hands, looking up at him with an easy, slightly hazy grin. “ also i don’t know what a recovery position is but i feel like i’d absolutely do it wrong on purpose just to annoy you. ”
𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗰𝘁 as she drops down beside him, shoulder against shoulder. shoulders of steel barely register but it burns into tomas’ shoulder anyway and he can’t help but shift away, just the slightest. more as a defence than discomfort. he takes a drag of his cigarette to stop himself from smiling at the rambling of the other and he exhales facing the opposite direction, primarily to avoid the smoke evading her space but also for the spilt second his lips upturn just the slightest. he turns back to the girl he has known a mere week, features softening, and it might be her, might be the booze and the nicotine but for once in a long time, he finds himself … relaxing or relaxing - adjacent ? eyebrows raise at her wagging finger — yes, that would annoy me if you died, he blinks away the thought and what it could mean before taking another drag of his cigarette. “ well, that sounds more like a you problem than me a problem. ” he shrugs, beer halfway to his lips, “ i’d show you but maybe it’d be in my sanity’s best interest not to. then i can avoid hearing that baby mice screech of a laugh you have. ”
turned toward her slowly, eyebrows lifting as if he’d just been handed the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all night. around them, lights spun lazy circles across the stage, red and blue slipping over faces and shoulders, but his attention stayed fixed on her. he caught the nerves anyway, the too wide eyes, the energy sitting just beneath her skin trying to pretend it wasn’t there, and something quieter flickered across his expression before the usual dry amusement settled back in. “ flores, ” he said, almost disappointed, shaking his head once. “ you spend half your life sticking microphones in people’s faces and now you’re folding under a disco ball and a karaoke machine ? ” a small breath of a laugh escaped him as he lifted his own mic. “ you’ve got this whole thing backwards. ” his eyes stayed on hers for another second, challenge sitting there beneath the words. “ i’m not worried about me messing this up. ” a pause. “ i’m starting to get a little worried about you. ”
𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 ? why is irina flores, as the santoro boy said, folding ( she grimaced at the word when he said it, as if her body was reflexively recoiling from being associated with such a term ) under this hazy flickering of the decade-old looking disco ball, under this crowd of people she’s known her whole life ? it’s not the crowd ( she is a big fan of attention ), it’s not the situation ( again, filipino, karaoke performed basically in utero ), so in conclusion, it is most probably the six foot something of a hockey thing that towers over her, all muscle & charm with a fire akin to something she can recognise in the mirror. she finds herself stepping closer, a menacing gaze landing on the other through thick lashes. “ oh, please santoro. let’s not pretend there’s a heart inside that thing. ” gaze seething as it flickers up and down, pointing the microphone at his chest. without even looking, she presses play on the karaoke machine a perfect arms length away, “ try to keep up, champ. we all know how scared you are of falling behind. ”
the scene the bar @ the dugout thread closed irina + @endscore
" and tell me, what poor unfortunate soul are you here for this time ? " amusement settling into his tone as he leans back slightly, brows lifting toward her, " or are you actually out having fun for a change ? "
𝗮 𝗱𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸 𝗴𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗹𝗲 𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗲𝘀 her lips before she even knows it, she attempts to delay the regret creeping up her cheeks with a big sip of her pina colada. she takes the umbrella from her drink and presents it to the other as if it’s a microphone, “ so, mr. wrangler, sources say the team chemistry is improving. sources also saw you crying during a southern rendition of ‘total eclipse of the heart' a couple of minutes ago. care to comment ? ”
"uh huh," he nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced. "research purposes, got it." his eyes glanced down toward the strawberry daiquiri in her hand. "and the daiquiri's just helping the investigation along?" a laugh slipped out of him, warm instead of teasing. "you might be onto something, karaoke songs say a lot about people." he gestured vaguely toward the stage where somebody was currently yelling their way through mr. brightside with alarming emotional commitment. "like that guy? either freshly divorced or got ghosted last week. so what would your song be then, miss strictly observational purposes?"
𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵 behind the sugar sprinkled rim of her strawberry drink — a reflexive attempt to reduce exposure or something along those lines her therapist once concluded about her disposition. she gives a lazy shrug of her shoulder, “ it was suggested by the lovely bartender, it was this or something called blue balls on the beach ? ” her gaze flicks over to the other’s gesture to the stage and a laugh, bubbly and bright spills out and she finds her hand covering her lips, as if her own body is regretful of sound. “ poor thing. well, pinky promise you won’t tell anyone. but, probably, ” she leans in, pinky extended out still, “ ric flair drip with offset and metro booming. ”
