#BUT A PRE DATE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has 411 employees.

saltygilmores · 1 year

Text

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 13 ("A Tisket A Tasket") Part 5, I Give Up

Just for funsies here's Jess calling Dean an idiot and Idiot admitting it.

Before I continued to slog through this absolutely mind numbing DALA (Dean and Lorelai Affair) episode, I uttered 6 words that I hope won't come back to bite me in the ass: "This can't possibly get any worse." Ahahahahahaha. There are 14 minutes left in the episode. I'm fucked. I've been on this one way too long and I'm determined to finish this. I'm just going to enjoy this Literati on a Bridge break. I'm going to my happy place where Dean doesn't exist and Rory is an orphan because Lorelai (and Chrisopher) don't exist and every episode is just 45 minutes of this.

"I'm so much happier here." R: "Why were you screwing with Dean an hour ago but you're suddenly being nice to me?" J: "Well it's the screwing with Dean that's an important step to getting here so I could be nice to you."

Ugh he took the fucking Quarter On A String so now I have to suffer through that fucking Lost and Found episode. God damn it Mariano! Why are the pretty ones always so dumb?

Did I mention that he is so pretty. I'm legally obligated to say that at least twice per Jess Episode. After Rory and Jess part ways, we cut to Rory returning home with a bag from the bookstore and Lorelai immediately shifts full gear into Weirdly Suspicious & Passive Aggressive Mode. When Rory admits she visited a bookstore and had a slice of pizza with Jess (oh the horror!) then goes to her room, Lorelai immediately shuffles her passive aggressive, suspicious little feet right in after her. 90% of the time that Lorelai and Rory meet to talk on their couch after Rory has just departed from the company of Dean or Jess, especially at night or at the end of the episode, it means Lorelai is about to dish out some horrible, horrible wisdom/life coaching. The Couch is where we have witnessed many classic mother-daughter bonding moments, such as the time Lorelai asked Rory to make sure Jess got his rabies shots before she slept with him. Ah, the couch.

Mmmm yep. *collects money*

SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH. Here we go. I think it was the great Michael Scott who once said, Why are you the way you are? Honestly, every time I try to enjoy something fun or exciting, you make it...not that. I hate so much about the things that you choose to be.

Ya know, I stan Rory more and more lately with how she stands up for Jess. Sorry your mom's a bitch. How many more tmes I can rant into The Void about Lorelai's unhealthy grudge with Jess? How many more times can I point out that Lorelai has only had one prolonged interaction with Jess, while she's known Dean twice as long and he's been rude and used a condescending tone of voice with her many times, including the first time they met (on Willy Wonka night) and it literally just happened again moments ago. It's just mindblowing to me how she will not let this FUCKING GO and SIXTEEN years later in AYITL when she is married to his uncle she is STILL making digs at him over him being rude to her when he was 17, joking about how he should have a baseball thrown at his head.

I honestly don't think I could love Rory Gilmore more at this point. Bless her rationality and sweet heart and cute rose sweater that looks like a swirl of that strawberry icing you squeeze over instant oatmeal. Are you witnessing a historical moment right now? The birth of a Rory Stan? Sort of. It won't last forever, but since I won't go past season 4 anymore, then yes.

The "things she's seen and heard" are just her regurgitating what Dean told her 5 minutes ago. LOL. She just took this kid's word as gospel, without even questioning it. The DALA is so fucked up, man! Lorelai is way too concerned with the lives of teenage boys! If Dean told Lorelai to jump off a bridge would she do it?

I really wish this were my gritty unrated Gilmore Girls spinoff titled The Hollow because I would have someone on this show actually acknowledge that Jess is honestly something of a miracle. His father abandoned him as a newborn, he had a tumultuous, negligent, inconsistent, possibly even abusive upbringing. His mother drank while she was pregnant with him. He grew up watching unsavory men in his mother's life circle in and out like a revolving door (according to Liz The Worst, one of them even died). Yet he doesn't turn to any real crime, drugs, alcohol, or even sex (okay, well bless his heart he tries there but people seem to cockblock him at every turn). HE SKIPS SCHOOL TO WORK AT WALMART. In real life kids like that are really lucky if the worst path they go down after that kind of chilhood merely involves them stealing loose change from an old fucknugget like Taylor Doose who deserves to be stolen from anyway. That bridge should have been fixed 10 years ago. Here's some of the train wreck. There were no survivors.

If Dean needs someone to talk to that badly he can get a diary or a dog or a sock puppet or like, one fucking friend his own age. I think half of the issues of this show could be solved if these people had more friends. Can't Taylor Doose swing some kind of town wide Bid-A-Friend Auction? Or emotional support animals?

Sure but like, did you ever stop to think that you and Dean are actually his only "enemies" and it's completely one sided because he couldn't care less about you, and also, your enemy is a 17 year old boy and you're a full grown adult lmao. Crazy lady. I wonder how Jess feels knowing he's the most exciting thing that's ever happened to a town full of boring nobodies who will go nowhere and do nothing while he will eventually makes millions of dollars from his best selling novels that get turned into blockbuster movies. Maybe someone will even make a movie about his life. I'm going to think about who could play Milo/Jess in a movie about himself while Lorelai yammers on and remains in denial about how insane she is. What do you think? Lorelai says Rory is "So young and naive, so nice and gives everyone a chance"; what she's really saying is "Jess doesn't deserve a chance, not even from you." I stoppped watching at this point and only skimmed a few more seconds. I saw that Rory stormed off, Lorelai and Rory fight over it at FND, Emily is confused, Lorelai says "I didn't like Dean at first because I didn't know him, I don't like Jess because I know him." You know what, there are times when this show starts to get my under my skin so much that I’m just not enjoying it and there’s no point in finishing the episode. In conclusion, Lorelai sucks and ruins everything and my number one Hill To Die On will continue being that Dean and Lorelai are sleeping together because there is no other logical explanation possible for why she talks about him like this. Goodnight!

Edit: guys, sorry that I was so enraged with Lorelai The Worst that I managed to gloss over the fact that Rory and Jess went on a Book Shopping and Pizza PRE-DATE 😍😍😍😍 THEIR FIRST ONE!

In my Gilmore Girls spinoff The Hollow we would see every minute of every Pizza and Book date and pre-date I promise you this 🥰 No skimping!

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 2 #a tisket a tasket #a-tisket a-tasket #literati #rory gilmore #jess mariano #Lorelai Gilmore #ARRRRRGHHH #RAGE #BUT A PRE DATE #I CANT WAIT FOR THEIR HOT DOGS AND RECORD SHOPPING PRE-DATE

36 notes · View notes

ineffablejaymee · 3 months

Text

sure steddie dating pre-season 4 is great and all, steve rushing to eddie to check up on him instead of eddie attack him in the werehouse is nice

BUT

steddie hooking up pre season 4, then sorta-almost-dating but they have a big falling out and they dont see eachother until the werehouse IS JUST SO JUICY

even better if they had the argument bcs steve wasnt telling eddie something to protect him from the upside down fuckery. and in the werehouse they lock eyes as eddie realizes what steve has been lying about, and steve (who just realized he was in love with eddie) realizes he failed and eddie is now in the middle of this crazy dangerous shit and he blames himself ofc

and give me robin who knew steve had someone, but he didnt tell her it was eddie. and she connects the dots and looks at steve and they have a little silent conversation bcs holy shit i knew u were a boy kisser but an eddie kisser?!?!

#steddie #eddie munson #steddie dating pre season 4 #stranger things #robin buckley #steve harrington #someone rly should write this fic #stares aggressively into a mirror

2K notes · View notes

willowser · 10 months

Text

i will never stop writing bakugou as a shy, blushy loserboy, but. the idea of you being more inexperienced than him ??

you're carefully bandaging him up at the agency clinic, after he'd taken a nasty hit that left his shoulder scuffed up, and he's been in here with you more times than he can count, much too late at night, and maybe that's how you get into this conversation in the first place; weird stuff always gets said at this hour.

"no, i'm telling you," despite the vulnerability of what you're saying — despite the awful look that must be on his face — you're laughing. "never dated anyone, never been taken on a date, nothing."

and — he really must look truly terrible, with his mouth open and his lip curled over his teeth and his brows furrowed, because he can't hardly believe a fucking word you're saying. it pisses him off and he doesn't know why, just seems. a waste, for no one to have appreciated someone like you.

someone that he maybe thinks about too much, that is too nice and not funny to anyone but themselves but still laughs and hardworking and. so pretty that it annoys him.

his question comes out rough, harsh. "why the hell not?"

"i don't know," you shrug, eyes cutting to his before focusing back on patching him up. "i'm — probably too shy and weird, or something. and online dating is hard, y'know! some guys are really into the purity thing, like too into it, and some guys find out and won't touch me with a ten-foot pole, so," and then you shrug. like that's all there is to it.

and katsuki is just astounded to know this. not that he's ever done all that much himself, but all his bases have been covered, by now in his life, and he just really can't imagine anyone knowing you and not wanting to—

he realizes the irony of thinking this, like a punch to the gut. after knowing you for almost two years now and never so much as complimenting your stupid hair and the stupid way you wear it.

"well," katsuki grumbles, averting his eyes to the walls of the clinic, trying to seem more interested in your creepy, anatomy posters. "maybe he's comin'...or whatever."

"who's coming?"

"your guy, i don't know!" it's unfortunate that his shirt is off for this, because there's no way you aren't getting a perfect view of the flush that spreading down to his chest. "your dude, maybe he's...figuring it out."

"hmm, maybe. that's what my gran says, but who knows?" you shrug, oblivious — and suddenly your singleness makes a smidge more sense. "i've resigned myself to a touchless, loveless life for—"

"he's comin'!" katsuki barks and you startle at the outburst, eyes casting over his warm cheeks and then down his chest and back. finally, it fucking clicks for you, like he hasn't been finding excuse after excuse to see you every damn night for ages. "he's...checkin' his work schedule and then he's...gonna figure it out, alright?"

you brighten considerably, lip going between your teeth. "oh, yeah, yeah," and your smile is unstoppable, not hidden in the slightest as you turn to the steri-tray at your side, shyness bleeding into his own. "alright."

#WAAAAHHHH #he considers himself so inexperienced #to the point he's such a flustered fucking dork about dating anyone #and so it makes him remarkably nervous around you to begin with #and then he goes absolutely bonkers learning that you've done even less than HIM AKFHDJSKAKAL #he's PISSED like WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN NO ONE HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE #NEVER BOUGHT YOU SHITTY FLOWERS BEFORE #it is probably the thing that riles him up enough to make his move because he's just. so pissed about it alfbsisjai #lmaoooooo #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

2K notes · View notes

trans-cuchulainn · 4 months

Text

it does make me laugh when general purpose academic advice is like "all citations must be RECENT, if it's over ten years old it's probably been superseded" and it's like. maybe in sciences bro but over here i still regularly have to cite stuff from the 19th century because nobody has written on the topic since

#'recent' in celtic studies = 21st century #'not that old' = author or author's contemporaries still theoretically alive so like. 1970s onwards #'a bit dated' = 1920s-1960s #'goddamit' = 1900-1920 #'it's whitley stokes isn't it. it's always fucking whitley stokes' = 1880-1900 #'oh god we're in the niche zone' = pre 1880 also Good Luck lmao

927 notes · View notes

fumifooms · 4 months

Text

Kaka compilation

Because everyone is sleeping on him. Witness his greatness!! First two Kaka colored icons were colored by me, lineart by Ryoko Kui though!

Kaka & Kiki are kinda like Laios & Falin… Kaka being stoic and giving repressed energy like early Laios, Kiki being cryptic and always smiling and kinda soft-looking. Autism siblings 2, ostracized and othered as kids and have a deep bond due to sticking together through it all, though unlike with Laios their parents are very loving so Kaka developed family as a big value more than Laios (bc asides for Falin Laios doesn’t care much about it).

In the gnome festival comic you can see Kaka is more emotive than he seems! Full with a :3 face, and he’s the one crying at the end. He’s insecure about his legs and being tall… It really got to him. Conceal don’t feel. In the gnome festival comic you also see him sensing others’ gaze on him and that something is off unlike Kiki, again Laios-like in the way that judgement from others gets to him more than her.

#The twins are so autistic swag #A falin just as chilled out and smiling and a laios who never stopped repressing #They’re so neurodivergent and they’re allowed to just exist I love you Kui. Kaka is just literally me #I looove characters that are hard to know and hard to read/easily misunderstood. They’re my favorite thing #LOOK AT THE WAY HE SMILES THE WAY HE BLUSHESSS HE’S PERFECT and I would take a harpoon to the chest for him thank u #I do love Kiki too btw but I’ve been seeing her in fancontent and posts way more than Kaka so I had to give him some spotlight #But also Laios is my fave of the Toudens so this very much checks out #Their pre-Flokes story would be interesting to analyze too #Dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kaka floke #Kaka #Kiki and kaka #floke twins #As you may guess from my new-ish icon I am in my kaka era #ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD STOP BEING MEAN ABOUT HIS NAME #KA IS A SYLLABLE IN MY IRL NAME. YES I WAS BULLIED AND CALLED KAKA AS A KID. MY NAME ALSO MEANS UGLY STUFF IN A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE #KAKA’S A PRETTY NAME I’LL DIE ON THIS HILL. IT’S NOT WEIRD IF YOU DON’T MAKE IT WEIRD #Oh also another laios falin parallel: they both sort-of-date the same woman

730 notes · View notes

a-local-idiots-shitpost · 4 months

Text

Mc: (holding a stick) back you wild animals! back I said!

Luke: (watching the chaos unfold) what is happening right now?

Simeon: (covering his eyes) well the Brothers are very attached to Mc... to much one could even say because they refuse to leave them alone for even a second

Luke: why are you covering my eyes?

Simeon: I have no idea what will happen and you're to young for therapy

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me shitpost #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me mc #obey me simeon #obey me luke #anyway made becausw I keep getting spammed with NB ad's #like yeah I fucking got it you habe a new game Solmare it's been out for six fucking months and I literally pre-registered for it

831 notes · View notes

thepascalofus · 8 months

Text

First Date

AO3

Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x Home Depot Worker!f!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Working at Home Depot was lack-luster. The paint department brought in a variety of customers, the majority of them just buying their paint and leaving. Then Joel Miller comes in--looking to repaint his daughters bedroom.

Content Warnings/Tags: Pre-outbreak/No-outbreak, reader works at Home Depot, fluff, meet-cute, rude customer, Joel defends you, eventual smut (next part), eventual first date, no descriptions for reader, no y/n.

A/N: Got this as a request! There will be another part with smut.

“More saving. More doing. That’s the power of the Home Depot.”

The wannabe gruff voice of the Home Depot narrator echoed throughout the large cement warehouse. It was Sunday, only two hours until close, and the store was virtually dead.

A large rectangular box of a warehouse was your place of employment for the time being. Orange decorated aisle after aisle, and employee after employee. Some employees decorated their aprons in paint and pins, showing their years of employment and dedication to their jobs. Others simply had their name written on their apron, just like how they simply showed up to work and left.

After moving out of the house you shared with your ex and into your own place, you needed the extra income to supplement your new rent and the remaining rent you owed on your shared lease.

Home Depot was hiring—and was desperate—because you got employed in the paint department.

Making paint wasn’t hard at all. It was the shitty customers that ruined it. Customers would demand to see a manager after you told them their paint wasn’t ready—even though they asked for three five-gallon buckets, and ten single gallons, fifteen minutes ago. People would order the same amount in a color they swore they would love, and then attempted to return it the next day, even though NO REFUNDS was printed in bold on the Home Depot paint sticker.

But, working behind the paint counter had its perks. You could stay in one place in the store, telling customers who needed help with complicated items that you, “had to stay and watch the desk.” Plus the desk had a phone, which allowed you to call any department, so your more knowledgeable coworkers could take over tough questions.

The only types of customers left at this hour were those that had emergencies, and those that liked to put things off until the last minute.

Getting tired of sitting behind the desk’s computer on your phone, you got up and walked the three aisles that made up the department. Your footsteps lightly tapped against the gray concrete of the floor. With each step, you scanned the shelves and the floor for anything out of place. Returning misplaced items was an easy task that helped you eat away at the remaining time of your shift.

A tube of caulk was placed right in the middle of the gallons of wood stain—classic. You reached downwards to retrieve the tube and stood back up, pacing down the shelves of orange towards the caulking aisle. The music over the loudspeakers was just quiet enough to hear the surrounding conversations in the other aisles.

One voice echoed to you louder than the rest. Randy’s voice.

Randy was a retired mechanic. Most of his skills were applicable to the questions customers often had. The man had wiry, white hair that peaked out from this Home Depot baseball cap he wore everyday. His apron was covered in various stains of grease and dirt, his name scrawled in Sharpie on the upper right corner of the orange fabric.

From a couple aisles over, his gruff voice made its way towards you, “Ah! Paint for a bedroom…Well let’s see, is this a kids bedroom?”

A deep, Texan drawl replied to Randy, “It is, ‘s fer my daughter. She wan’ed her room repainted for her birthday. She’s turnin’ thirteen. Says she needs to get rid’a the ‘baby colors’ from when she was lil’.”

Randy let out a hearty laugh, followed by a muted smack, likely from giving the man a pat on the back, “I know how that feels,” Randy paused to let out another laugh, “My daughter is in her twenties now, but she was the same way as yours. Thirteen hit and she insisted she was allll grown up.”

You retreated to the paint desk with a small smile on your face, it was nice that the man wanted to repaint for his daughter. Your watch told you it was an hour and thirty until close. This customer just had to wait until the last minute, though.

The unknown man let out a chuckle at Randy’s anecdote. Slow, muted steps from both men made their way towards the paint department’s aisles. One of the men let out a deep sigh.

“Thing is, I dunno a single thing ‘bout what colors’ll look nice together.”

The footsteps came closer and the two men appeared in your vision. One central aisle lined up with the paint desk, making somewhat of a runway for customers to walk on to come and request paint. Randy looked down the aisle and his gaze met yours, “Oh! There she is,” Randy said your name to the man, “she knows a ton about colors, I’m sure she could help ya more than I can.”

Randy truly was a nice man. He helped you deal with rude customers. Showed you basic tips and tricks. Ate with you in the break room on occasion.

But, c’mon Randy.

The old man continued walking towards the break room and left the man standing at the end of the aisle. You looked down, pretending you didn’t hear the majority of their conversation. Organizing the paint samples became a very consuming task. Heavy steps made their way closer and closer until your peripheries were consumed with the navy blue color of the Texan’s shirt.

His large hands rested on the desk’s countertop. Thick digits were covered in calluses. Before you could observe his fingers more, he cleared his throat.

“‘Scuse me, miss. S’wondering if you could help me w’ somethin’,” the man drawled out.

Your eyes looked up from the desk, and they widened in surprise. The front of his shirt had orange letters displayed on the front: MILLER CONTRACTING LLC.

Most contractors that ventured into the paint department weren’t as…put together as this man was. The usual paint covered pants and shirt weren’t present on this contractor. The navy blue of his work shirt spanned across his wide chest and even wider shoulders. Sleeves hugged his biceps deliciously. If he moved his arms any more you were worried the sleeves would rip. Not that you’d complain.

Then you looked up to meet his eyes.

His eyes.

Brown irises held eye contact with you. They were deep, warm. Inviting. The color made you think of a teddy bear. Soft and comforting. Brown hair on his head and face matched his eyes. The hair on his head consisted of messy waves combed to one general side, probably from a sweep of his fingers. Short, dark brown hairs made up his beard and mustache. Each facial hair component framed handsome features. A strong jaw was framed by his beard, and plush lips were framed by the ‘stache.

The same lips were forming a smile spanning across his face. His eyes crinkled and displayed slight lines near the corners. Lines developed from years of laughter and smiles.

Realizing you looked at him blankly for a second too long, you snapped out of your trance, “O-of course! What do you need help with?”

His hands came up off of the counter and rested on his hips. “Well, y’see, it’s my daughters thirteenth birthday comin’ up. She’s had this yellow color in ‘er room since she was a baby,” he let out a small sigh, as if he was reminiscing, “an’ she wants ‘er room repainted.”

You heard the conversation he had with Randy before, but you didn’t want to come off as a creep for eavesdropping. “Ah, ok! That’s nice of you, and seems easy enough! Do you know what color she wants?”

He let out another sigh. His eyes met yours. The man looked like a sad, lost puppy. “I know her favorite colors, pink and purple, but there’s just so many options,” he turned and gestured with a broad hand towards the rainbow wall of paint swatches. “An’ darlin’, I tried to do m’own research, watchin’ some Martha Stewart shows, but then Martha started talkin’ about warm colors and cool colors,” he let out a chuckle accompanied by a broad smile, raising his hands in front of his chest, “and then she lost me.”

Darlin’.

Other customers called you that condescendingly. When you didn’t know the difference between one screw and another. But the man’s endearing use of the word made your heart melt.

You smile back at him and lean forward on the counter. “Well, I think the first step is just the color. After that, we can worry about warm tones and cool tones,” you gave him a playful smirk.

He chuckled once more. “Sounds like a plan t’me,” he started walking towards the paint swatches. You snuck out from behind the counter and followed him to the pinks and purples.

“So I was thinkin’ of doin’ both pink and purple, but I dunno what looks good together.” The man started reaching for a card of pink. You took the moment to admire his forearms. Thin, dark hairs covered the surface of his tan skin. Muscles flexed on the front of his arm, displaying the years of manual labor the man has endured.

A pink swatch, Valentine, appeared in front of your face, accompanied by a lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell.

Valentine was bright, Barbie pink. Kiss and Tell was a light purple, the color the wax of a lavender candle would be. You admired his dedication to doing both of his daughter’s favorite colors, but the pair didn’t look too great together. The corner of your mouth perked up, displaying the thought you were putting into the pairing.

“No?” The man asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. His brows slanted downwards and his eyes resembled those of a lost puppy.

“Hmmm. Does she usually wear lighter colors,” you pointed towards the lavender swatch, “or brighter colors?” You gestured to the pink swatch.

He looked down at the swatches and his brow furrowed. The man was standing so close, you could smell cedar and musk from his cologne. His large biceps slightly brushed your upper arms as he turned to face you, “I reckon she likes the lighter colors.”

You took the lavender swatch, Kiss and Tell, from the man. Your fingers brushed against his thick, calloused ones as the card came into your possession. “Ok, so we’ll stick with the light purple! Let’s find a pink to match this one,” you smiled at him and he returned the expression.

Turning your body slightly towards the pinks, you started picking swatch after swatch off of the wall. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man watching you in awe. Once several pink cards were in your hands, you went back to the paint desk.

You laid the cards out on a blank, white piece of paper. Five pink swatches were in a row on the paper with the lavender swatch below them. The man stood next to you and leaned over your shoulder to get a better look. A husky voice drawled in your ear, “So which one d’ya think, darlin’?”

You bit your lip at the warmth in his tone. A small shiver traveled up and down your spine, leaving a tingling in its wake. His tone was warm, and so was his upper arm. It grazed against your arm and left it warm and fuzzy. Brown eyes scanned over the options and then locked with yours.

His gaze was incredibly soft. He looked desperate. The image of a lost puppy crossed your mind yet again. A small smile was spread on his face, roping you further into your tiny crush on the customer.

You give him a small smile, which his eyes crinkled further at, and you inform him, “Unfortunately, I can only give you my opinion. I can’t make the decision for you.” One of the man’s eyebrows raised and he gave you a slight frown. “Why’s that?” His voice lilted in question.

Giving him a slight shrug, you explain, “Well, I’ve made decisions for people before, and sometimes they come back and blame me for ‘ruining their walls’. I can tell you what I think looks good! Buuut I’m not going to decide for you,” you gave him a sweet smile.

Cedar and musk filled your nose again as he leaned closer. Your gaze dipped downard and followed one of his large hands. The calloused fingertips on his thick digits gripped the paper, and dragged in between the two of you.

His opposite hand was set next to yours. A strong arm brushed against you. The hand holding onto the paper spanned across the page, “Well, tell me what’cha think, hon’?”

Hon’.

The feeling was quick, but intense. It washed over you like a soothing, warm bath. Ease seeped into your bones and then crept up into your cheeks. Your face felt hot at the term of endearment. Turning back towards the swatches, your lip found its way behind your front teeth once more.

You went through the details of each potential pairing. Telling him which ones you thought were too warm, too muted, or too cool. The best pairing was with a light, baby pink. The swatch read:

First Date

Reading the color name, of course Behr had a weird color name for a damn light pink, your face got even hotter. Your hands collected the other pinks and set the light pink and light purple next to each other.

The man picked the two cards and held them up to each other in front of his face. His gaze scanned the names of the two cards. “Kiss and Tell,” he softly muttered, his eyes gliding across the other name, “First Date,” he gave a slight smirk. It was as if he read your mind, he bit his lip, then released it. His tongue darted out to soothe the pinch on his bottom lip.

“Ok darlin’,” he started, “how much paint do I need for a ten by ten room?”

“Well, a gallon covers three hundred to four hundred square feet,” you trailed off, “depending on how many coats you want to do, you’ll need one to two gallons.”

His mouth scrunched up to one side and he hummed, “How much is a gallon?”

Your mouth slanted in thought, “Well, it depends on what type of paint you’re looking to get.”

He smiled and tilted his head at your words, “Typa paint? Darlin’, I thought there was just paint,” he softly chuckled out, “an’ I usually make my brother do the paint shoppin’.” His confession brought a smile to your face. It wasn’t uncommon. Whenever people bought paint, they were slightly taken aback at how many questions you needed to ask them.

You started to walk to the left, towards a mat laid out on the paint desk counter. The brown mat displayed different qualities and brands of paint, which increased in price as you looked towards the right end of the lineup. You took a breath to start your usual line of questions, “Okay, so how many coats of paint are you looking to do? These paints,” you slid your finger to the more expensive end of the lineup, “have more primer in them, so they’re thicker. The thicker the paint, the fewer coats you have to do. Some paints have a one coat guarantee,” you finished and looked to his eyes to read his expression.

His mouth repeated its action from earlier, scrunching to the side, “Hmmm, I s’pose one coat would be less work…” He went silent for a moment as he thought. You could almost see him running the numbers in his head. “Alrigh’, I think I’ll go with two gallons of the one coat,” he finished by placing one of his hands down next to yours on the mat. The man’s eyes twinkled as he looked into yours and gave you a soft smile.

The smile he gave you was returned with your own, “Okay! So what sheen do you want the paint to be?” His smile shifted into confusion once more. Lines on his forehead deepened due to his perplexed look. “Sheen?” He asked.

You gave him a soft giggle. Reaching across him and towards a board of wooden paint swatches, you gave him a small, “‘Scuse me,” and his cologne filled your nose once more. Your shoulder brushed against his arm on your way back to your original positioning.

Facing the swatches towards him, you explained, “So sheens are how shiny the paint is once it dries. You can have no shine, which is a flat sheen, and you can go all the way up to very shiny, which is a high gloss. Usually bedrooms are eggshell or satin,” you pointed to the corresponding wood pieces. Tapping one of the shinier samples, you added, “And the shinier the finish, the more durable it is, and the easier it is to wipe, if you wanted to clean the wall.”

You leaned towards him, pointing at one specific wood sample block, “If your daughter likes to draw on the walls, I’d get satin, or even a semi-gloss.”

He huffed in amusement at your suggestion. “Guess I forgot kids draw on walls,” he chuckled, “Sarah’s ‘n angel, she prefers paper instead of drywall.” His wholesome anecdote made you giggle and look into his eyes.

The man gave you a small wink in response to your laughter. Taking a breath in, he pointed to a wooden sample a few spaces above the one you pointed at, “Lets go w’ eggshell.” His finger dwarfed the block of wood as he gave the material two light taps with his fingertip. Gazing at his hands, they were calloused, but also well kept. Fingernails at the ends of his thick digits were trimmed short, utilitarian.

You smiled at his decision, “Okay! Well, I’m going to go make labels for these two gallons and then I’ll mix ‘em up for you!” He beamed at your words and leaned against the counter, “Sounds good t’me, sweetheart.”

Your face flushed with heat at his response, and you hurriedly went to the other side of the counter to enter the two gallons into the computer. A white screen filled your vision as you tapped the different buttons to narrow down which type of paint the computer needed to calculate formulas for.

As you tapped one button, the computer froze for a couple seconds. You frowned, “It always does this,” you thought. Not having to focus on the options on the screen, your vision instead focused on the reflection displaying what was behind you. Your eyes landed on the Texan man.

And his eyes were on you.

You watched as he bit the inside of his cheek, his mind lost in his thoughts. His gaze remained on you until he nodded to himself and looked down. Though he wasn’t observing the different paints on the mat, he was reaching into his pocket.

One of his hands sprawled out on the counter as he held down one of the paint samples and began to write on the paper in black sharpie, the item he retrieved from his jeans. The computer wasn’t too far from the counter, and you were semi-able to see what he was writing.

It was a phone number.

Your eyes widened and you returned your focus to the computer's screen. It definitely loaded a while ago and you hadn’t noticed. You pressed the, “PRINT LABELS” button and tore the stickers from the printer. Not making eye contact with him—still panicking over what you witnessed—you made your way down the center aisle and found the cans needed for the paint colors.

But your lazy coworkers haven’t been downstocking the cans, so they were just out of reach when you were on your tip-toes. You sprawled your fingers up towards the top of the can, hoping to find the handle with your finger tips.

Then heavy steps made their way over to you. The Texan’s signature cologne wafted towards you, “Lemme help ya’ with that, darlin’.” Before you could answer him, he reached and grabbed two gallons down from the just-out-of-reach shelf. He lifted them up so you could see the faces of the can, his face framed by two paint cans, “Are these the right ones?” You nodded, and he made his way back to the paint counter with them. Internally swooning at his help, you followed behind him, but returned to the opposite side of the counter as him.

He set the cans down with a, thunk, thunk, and smiled at you. You gave him a smile as you took the cans, “Thank you,” you said to him. His smile broadened, “‘Course.”

You brought the open gallons underneath the tint dispensers, each gallon getting a small amount of tint. Hammering echoed throughout the store as you closed each gallon, then put them in the paint shakers to mix.

Looking up from the floor, where the paint shakers were, back to the counter, you saw the man’s thick fingers tapping on the surface of it. Your eyes traveled from his fingers to his face. His gaze met yours and his lips parted, “What’cha got goin’ on for the rest of the night?”

You had to force your mouth to not smile too wide as you answered him with a sigh, “Just finishing up my shift, then going home,” you paused to think about what else to say, “I’m just glad I don’t have to work for the next two days,” you chuckled out.

His face and shoulders fell playfully, “Oh, I’m jealous,” he shook his head, “I’ve gotta work the next four days, n’ then I’m off for two.” He shook his head even more. Your lips slanted in sympathy and you were about to offer it, but the man continued, “Never become a contractor hon’,” he let out a breath, “I’s shitty hours ‘n shitty clients.”

Brown eyes widened and then looked at you, he placed a wide palm over his chest, “Sorry sweetheart,” he chuckled, “Jus’ had a long day.”

You laughed at his apologetic behavior, it was endearing, “You don’t have to be sorry!” You continued to laugh, but then lowered your voice. Leaning towards him, you murmured, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too,” you winked at him.

His teeth shined in the broad smile he displayed for you. A series of laughs left his chest. Two large hands both rested on the surface of the counter as he looked down and, more quietly, continued his chuckling. After a couple seconds, brown eyes peered back up into yours. The twinkles in his irises matched his smile.

“Hope I’m not a shitty client,” he joked, but his eyebrows faltered in sincerity.

Your head tilted at him with soft eyes. Scrunching your lips to one side, you decided to be somewhat bold, “I think you’re one of the best I’ve had in a while.”

His face relaxed and his soft smile returned. The lines between his eyebrows became more prominent as he gave you those brown, puppy-dog eyes. “Well thank ya’, darlin’,” he drawled. You held his eye contact until you caught movement in your peripheral—his thumb brushed against the light pink paint sample. The dark mustache above his lip twitched as he bit the inside of his cheek again.

Click. Click.

The sounds indicated the timers on the paint shakers were up. And the gallons were done mixing. Breaking eye contact, you bent down to retrieve the gallons from the machines. Opening them up, you put your finger into each can and dotted the color on the top of the can. They were closed once more and you slid them over to the man across the counter.

He looked down at them, and then his face lit up. “Oh! D’ya mind puttin’ these colors on my account?” You were equally lit up at his request, as customers usually didn’t care about the paint accounts they could make to save their paint colors.

Using the computer closest to him, you tapped a few buttons and a series of fields popped up. You pressed on the field for a phone number, “What’s your phone number?” You asked him. Your face heated up at the meaning of the words in a different context.

He told you and you typed them in, pressing enter on your keyboard. One account popped up: JOEL MILLER. “He definitely looked like a Joel,” you thought to yourself. “Joel?” You asked out loud to confirm it was his account. His name tumbling from your lips made his face light up. A charming smile was framed by a dark beard and ‘stache. “That’s me,” he replied.

You clicked on the account and entered the colors under, “Sarah’s Room,” Joel told you. The information was saved after a press of the “SAVE” button. His hands came up to grip the thin, metal handles of the paint gallons. Sliding them off the counter, his mouth opened and then closed again. He bit his lip, then looked at you, “Thank you darlin’, have a good night.”

Your brow dropped a bit, expecting for him to give you his number—for different reasons this time. Before he got too far, you replied, “Of course! Have a good night, Joel!” He threw you a wide, toothed smile over his shoulder. Joel’s smile was wide, but his eyes lacked the same enthusiasm.

—

No one else approached the counter after a couple minutes, so you retreated to the computer to “do your training”. You sat on your phone, letting the training video play in the background—this video was literally anti-union propaganda. Mindlessly scrolling on social media, your thoughts wandered.

You felt dumb for expecting him to give you his number. He could’ve just written something else down on the card. Sighing, you turned and meandered the paint aisles to keep yourself busy. With slow steps you wandered past can after can. You made it to the third aisle, and a man stood at the end of it.

He had dark brown hair, wore a navy t shirt, and was built like Joel. Your footsteps became faster to greet him, but then the man turned and looked at you—it was not Joel.

The man sighed and rolled his eyes, “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for five minutes looking for one of you.”

Your eyes widened, the tone of this customer sharply contrasted the one of your last. Joel’s kind eyes and comforting drawl made this man’s voice compare to nails on a chalkboard. Staring at him, you realized he didn’t look like Joel at all. The rude man’s facial hair was unkempt and scraggly. His teeth must have had the same maintenance as this beard, as they were begging for a trip to the dentist. His hair had no style, not even a brushing of it in a general direction.

The awful whiny, rasp of his voice only heightened your disgust, “I’ve been looking for this thing,” he held his phone out and pointed at his screen, “it says you have it in stock in this aisle but I can’t find it.”

You hummed in response. After asking him to scroll down to view the products information, you typed the SKU for the item into your phone. The Home Depot app on your phone was the only way you could help people, otherwise you'd be lost. You typed the SKU into the app and made sure the app filtered for items in your store, not just the available items online.

OUT OF STOCK displayed under a picture of the item, next to your store name. You sighed, “I’m sorry sir, but it looks like we did have this item, but it's out of stock right now.”

The man’s eyebrows knitted together and he looked at you in shock, “What?” The word shot into your chest. Shit. You thought back to what you said to Joel earlier, “Home Depot has shitty hours and shitty clients too.”

You sighed, “Do you have the right store listed on your phone?” The man snapped his eyes to his screen confusedly. After a moment he held it back out for you to see, “I don’t know, you tell me,” he sneered.

Reading the “130 IN STOCK” on his screen, your vision trailed to the store next to it. That store was in a completely different area. Clearing your throat, you informed him, “Sir, that’s a store one hundred miles from here.” You braced for his reaction.

His screen faced him and he grumbled. “Well why doesn’t your damn app update the location when I search?” He rudely asked. Your breath caught in your throat at his harshness. “Can’t you look in the back if you have it?” He stated, like he worked here.

Another deep breath, “We don’t have a back sir, we do overhead stocking,” you looked up, “and I don’t see the item you’re looking for up there,” you swallowed. Heat flushed into your face in anxiety at the customer’s attitude.

“Fuckin’ useless,” the man spat under his breath at his phone, peering up at you. “Can’t even find a damn item,” he trailed off. Your throat clenched at his words. A shaky breath left your nose.

Heavy footsteps came from behind you and a wave of distaste washed through your bones. You swore if it was another entitled customer, you were going to go insane. Probably cry. Maybe scream. Definitely asking to go home early.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, “You’re bein’ quite harsh to ‘er for somethin’ that ain’t ‘er fault,” a Texan drawl announced. Recognizing the voice, you turned to see Joel’s built figure make its way over to you and the shitty client. A huff from the rude, scraggly man came from your left, “This ain’t any of your business, buddy.”

Your head snapped towards Joel to see his response, “The hell it ain’t,” his voice got slightly louder, “You’re the dumbass that can’t jus’ say you were lookin’ at the wrong goddamn store.” Eyes wide, your gaze shifted from one man to the other. Joel stood tall, brows furrowed, and muscles bulging in the sleeves of his t-shirt.

Scraggly man must have decided the argument wasn’t worth it, as he just grumbled and took his cart down the aisle and away from both of you. Joel sighed beside you, “‘M sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I knew ya coulda handled that, but he shouldn’t have been so rude to ya. Especially over his own damn mistake.”

Relief flooded your body in the absence of the shitty client. Warmth from Joel’s presence began to fill the rest of the space that the relief couldn’t. Then you started thinking, “How’d you know he put the wrong store in the app?” You asked Joel.

The contractor froze. Eyes wide. Brows towards the ceiling. Lips pinched together. He looked down at the cement floor and then back up to you, “I may have been eavesdropping from the aisle over.” He cocked his head towards the aisle he came from.

Joel took a deep breath and then cleared his throat. The same brown, puppy-dog eyes from earlier met your irises. He dug his hand into his front jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, a light pink—First Date—sample card had a number in black sharpie scrawled across the color. “I came back to give ya this,” he held the paper out for you to take, and you took it from his large digits.

You stared at the card in shock. Okay. So he did plan on giving it to you.

He sighed and rubbed a broad palm over the back of his neck, “I was gonna give it to ya’ earlier but I got nervous,” he chuckled, “I, uh, I jus’ thought, uh, I think, that you’re very pretty, and funny.” He cleared his throat once more and continued, and you tore your gaze away from the paper to meet his eyes, “An’ I’d like to take ya’ out on a date sometime.” A heavy breath left his lungs.

A moment passed before you grinned at him and gave him a little chuckle, “I’d go on a date with you, Joel.” Broad shoulders covered in navy fabric slumped in relief. He grinned at you and his face flushed—he was blushing.

He checked his watch and muttered, “Shit.” Looking at you, his brows furrowed, “Sorry, darlin’, I’ve gotta run. Havin’ family dinner tonight.” Your heart throbbed at the care he had towards his family.

You waved a hand at him, heat rising towards your face at the loose plans you two had, “Well, don’t let me make you late!” He nodded at you, “Have a good night, sweetheart,” he said before slowly walking backwards down the aisle and away from you. “You too, Joel!” You replied before he turned the corner.

About to turn the corner, he shot you a grin with a wink.

Okay. Maybe working at Home Depot did have its perks.

#the last of us #joel miller #thepascalofus #tlou #thepascalofus fic #first date fic #thepascalofus first date #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller at home depot #home depot!joel #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #thepascalofus requests #joel miller fluff

561 notes · View notes

calware · 9 months

Text

dirkjake is like sometimes i feel like you're the only one who knows me. i think you know me better than i want to know myself. i can't bear to be around you. i would die for you because there is no living without you. i want to perform an autopsy on you and dissect you from the inside out. i don't want you to ever look at me again. the world is too terrifying to bear unless i'm with you. the thought of loving you is the scariest thing i've ever known. i hope you kill me. i love you. my battery is low and it's getting dark. there is no sign of land. i hope you die i hope we both die

jakehal is like i have no idea how these two got together but it nuked the entire friend group in the process. 8 dead 24 injured. and it's objectively the funniest pairing out there

#homestuck #i say things #this is not a reference to no children. it is a reference to that tumblr post about a starbucks worker being asked to make a HP themed drin #k from instagram #every day i think about dante's post where dirk and jake break up and dirk.#immediately started dating june (pre-transition) (canonically looks very similar to jake) (identical twins in this context)#and jake and hal looked at each other like. i now have the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever

642 notes · View notes

harringroveera · 2 months

Text

Billy: Buckley, what are you doing?

Robin: I’m about to go out and see how Steve’s date goes

Billy: Harrington got a date? Which unfortunate girl got set up with him now?

Robin: Someone in class. I’m just there in case he needs rescue, if it’s a horrible date

Billy: Alright, you want a ride?

Robin: …you want to give me a ride to go see Steve?

Billy: Sure

Billy: And then maybe I can stay to watch Harrington with you too. Clearly, just in case his date is too persistent and I gotta work my charms on her to save Harrington’s ass

Robin: …

Robin: Okay, sure, whatever

Billy: Anyway, you think my hair’s okay?

Robin: Yeah?

Billy: Okay, cool, let’s go

#harringrove #in which billy crashes steve’s dates to ‘rescue’ him #loosely inspired by a part in my fic i guess #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #billy hargrove x steve harrington #incorrect harringrove quotes #harringroveera #harringrove textpost #incorrect billy hargrove quotes #robin buckley #steve & robin #billy & robin #steve x billy #steve harrington x billy hargrove #pre-harringrove

196 notes · View notes

live-emotion · 12 days

Text

Utapri Live Emotion release date

It has been confirmed that Live Emotion will release on the 12th of June!

Pre-registration is open now on Google Play and the App Store, but is currently only available for Japanese accounts.

There are also new promotional images featured on the official app and play stores that have hints of new information in them. (Information in Image descriptions and below the read more)

Previously used promotional image featuring all 18 idols and the games logo.

Otoya from a music video without the rhythm game overlay. The Japanese text reads "Idols show off their brilliant performances!"

Images of various alternate rhythm game backgrounds that can be used during gameplay instead of the previously shown cg music video dance backgrounds. Top left shows a similar layout to Shining Live, with a static concert stage background and six rhythm icon lanes. The right shows a backdrop of the full art of the initial Reiji UR Piece with 4 rhythm icon lanes, confirming the amount of lanes will differ between songs, or difficulties. Japanese text reads, "A rhythm game featuring popular songs from Uta no Prince-sama!"

Four images of the chatting screens. One close-up each with Shion, Ranmaru, and Syo, and one with Eiichi central and Nagi, Masato, and Camus in the background. Japanese text reads "Have fun talking with the idols!"

Two images of the story mode. One the left is the main story with Ai, Tokiya, and Eiji, and on the right is likely a private or piece story with Van. The Japanese text reads, "a rich story with 18 idols!"

Two shots of the Piece level up screen, showing Yamato and Cecil URs. The Yamato UR rewards the player with four of a key shaped item with a pink heart crystal and ribbon. Design will likely vary in colour and shape for each character and group. The Japanese text reads, "Let's cultivate fragments of emotions, the Emotional Pieces!"

Image of Minipri, with Ren, Natsuki, and Kira in the same room setup as was initially seen. Japanese text reads, "Decorate your own rooms!"

Image of each group, likely taken from the music video of their group songs from the Live Emotion Theme Song CD.

#live emotion #utapri #uta no prince sama #same release date as the theme song cd by the way #pre-release #announcement

152 notes · View notes

incorrect-marvel-because-why-not · 3 months

Text

Pre serum Steve: This date is boring! Bucky: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store. Steve: Then why did you invite me? Bucky: I didn't, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "screw you Buck I'll do whatever I want!

#ignore the fact that they wouldn't have been dating in public because it was illegal #that's irrelevant #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #marvel mcu #pre serum stucky #pre serum steve #stucky #steve x bucky #steve rogers #steven grant rogers #captain america #the winter soldier #white wolf

300 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

unguided-adventurer

Unguided Adventurer

32coconuts

whimsicalwisp

blargh

spiderlilieee

Untitled

gamedoper

GameDoper