#CAKEY OMG

[thecursedcake]

How the Spiderling fic writing going? I can't wait for ch 3!

Remember to stay idrayted!

Omg hello! You're my first ask ever! Thank you! ❤️

It's going well, I have chapters three and four planned out. I'm also planning a kidfic series exploring the how the children would feel about their parents past. Plenty of angst. (with comfort, of course. I'm not Satan.) I've also been drawing character sheets, planning a small comic with a friend, and I'm going to do a Kallamar One-shot sometime. So there's plenty happening!

However, I do also have to get a job, cause Uni does not pay for itself. So chapters will probably slow throughout the summer.

You stay hydrated too! And make sure to eat well and make time for youself!

[forzarma]

makeup disaster

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: lando Doing your makeup on stream what could possibly go wrong?

warnings:haven’t proofread 😞

You joined Lando while he was streaming last week, and both of you were playing a game. Well, you lost, which means you’re gonna let him do your makeup on his next stream.

Both of you sat, and you got your makeup essentials that you’re gonna have to use for this stream, hoping Lando wouldn’t freestyle your face considering the fact he doesn’t know anything about makeup.

“Hello chat,” he said while looking at the computer, “so apparently I’m doing your makeup,” giving a cheeky smile.

“I’m regretting this already, omg,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Anyways, first thing, I guess primer ’cause you have been nagging about killing me if I don’t put it first,” Lando said.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

He started tapping your face aggressively.

“Ouch, Lando,” you said, giving him a stern look.

“I’m trying, okay?” he said, looking at you innocently.

“Anyways, I think we need to use this,” he said while holding your foundation and your beauty blender.

He blended your foundation, and you were thanking god that he was doing good for now. Well, your happiness didn’t last long when you saw him taking your setting powder and putting it over your face.

“Wait, Lando—“ you were trying to tell him he should put concealer, but all you heard was “SHUSH.” You gave him a literal side-eye.

And then he had the audacity to put concealer after what the hell????

Looking at the mirror, all you could see is your cakey face.

He opened your eyeshadow palette and took a bright blue and started putting it over your eyes.

Then he picked your blush, PAINTED your face with it, making you look like a tomato.

Then he got the liquid eyeliner and hummed, “this is interesting,” and decided to literally act like your eyes are drawing papers.

He gave his attention to the chat, reading it, and people saying that’s not how he should put things, just for him to say, “nah, y’all are just wrong, I know what I’m doing.”

He took the lip liner, he put it on your lips, and gloss.

“Alright chat, that’s the finished look,” he said, looking proud as if he did an achievement.

“You did terrible, Lando,” you said, looking at him.

“You know, I did good, better than you do,” he muttered.

“Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this stream and don’t fall in love with my makeup skills ’cause,” he said, smirking, then he ended the stream.

After ending the stream, Lando turned to you with a cheeky grin. "Alright love, let me help get that makeup off you. Can't have you walking around looking like a clown all night!" 

You playfully hit his arm. "Whose fault is that?" You retorted with a laugh. Lando gently took a makeup wipe and started dabbing at your face, his touches soft and caring as he removed the remains of his "artwork." 

"There we are, much better." He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You felt yourself getting lost in his stare, all thoughts of the disastrous makeup attempt melting away. 

Suddenly , you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Lando made a small noise of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, cupping your cheek tenderly as he kissed you back. The spark between you that had been building for so long was finally igniting. 

When you finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Well, I may not be able to do makeup but at least I know how to do that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled, feeling giddy and light. It seemed the stream had ended on a much sweeter note than anticipated. Your "punishment" had turned out to be quite the reward after all.

[hxrsheykisses]

OMG THAT LAST FIC WAS AMAZING! LIKE TRULY YOU’RE AN AWESOME WRITER!!! May I perchance ask for an oc x cannon fic of my own? Maybe? It’s Jackie and Bill they’re so toxic though idk if you’re comfy with Bill being… Bill

AUAAUAUAUA ofc I can🙏🙏🙏🙏♥️♥️♥️♥️ Thank you sm for being patient with me and requesting!!!

WARNINGS: Toxic Themes

💋 I HATE HER. 💋 | Bill Dickey x Jackie♥️

He can’t stand her. He just couldn’t stand her at all. Everytime he sees her, it’s like he’s suddenly spawned in the deepest pits of hell. Saying how he doesn’t “like” her is an understatement. Bill hates her.

She is everything that lurks in women. She is one of the many reasons why Bill hates on women so much and deems them as objects. She is just so full of herself, shows herself off as if she’s a prized possession, and thinks shes better than everyone just because she flaunts her tits and has a pretty(NOT) face.

Bill wonders, who the fuck does this girl think she is? She’s always been a needy bitch—hasn’t grown out of it at all. He doesn’t understand how a women like her can think that she’s all that when she’s clearly not. She dresses like a dumpster whore and will do anything to get laid—that’s what she looks like.

Oh god, don’t even get him started on her voice. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. The way she drags her sentences, talks like she actually means something despite her being in a man’s fucking world—she’s full of shit just like the shit she slaps on her face. Cakey makeup that she spends hours on—as fucking if. If Bill could, he would make sure that all those useless hours of spending time perfecting herself would go down the down the drain once he’s done with her. He just wants to slap that smirk right off her face.

He hates her hair, it’s sickly blonde and it’s terribly easy to point her out in a crowd.

He hates her eyes, too fucking blue. She always looks at him with those round eyes of hers while bating her lashes.

He hates her choice of clothing, it’s like she doesn’t feel whole without showing skin and she sucks ass at hiding it.

He hates her.

But a part of him—a toxic part of him feels himself wanting to get closer. He hates how his heart skips a beat whenever she gives him one of those looks. He hates how close she gets to him as she speaks, her eyes keeping contact with his own with zero shame. He hated the countless times another guy would ogle at her—not like she was worth staring at any fucking way.

He hated her, he hated himself.

One day—one fucking day, he will make sure that she knows not to mess around with him. He just wants her to be put in her place because obviously nobody else is doing it. She’s just some female who leeches onto male validation for a living—who craves the eyes of fellow men—who is stupid and doesn’t know shit about anything besides what could get a man going.

Jackie is nothing but a joke.

Jaxkie is nothing but a bug under his shoe.

Jackie is nothing but a woman who needs to be put in her place.

Jackie is nothing but a toxic and hateful yearn for Bill. That’s all that she ever is—that’s all that she ever will be.

God, he hates her so bad.

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 12: A Carmy shade of blue

Words: 7.4k

Summary: It all comes down to this...

a/n: I made Fox’s set and it came out so good omg! Can we please talk about the dedication! Also I’m posting the Epilogue right after this one so enjoys both and remember comments are always appreciated!

Ps. reader is Latina in this so there will be some Spanish!

‘You can do this. You can totally do this. You don’t have to talk to him, just show up.’

You had been trying to psych yourself up for the better part of the last half hour. After clipping on your earring and fixing the curly pieces of hair that frame your face, you thought you’d feel brave enough to move. But your legs stayed locked in place, tightly knotted over the vanity stool that had started to dig into the sides of your bare thighs. 

The bubbling nerves had you doubting all your decisions. The dress didn’t seem appropriate so you changed, then your makeup felt cakey so you rinsed it off and started over. The necklace was too small, the hoops too big, the urge to call Carmy too grand and the noise from the living room too overstimulating. Between the volume on the stereo and your aunts’ joyous laugh, the thin walls didn’t stand a chance and neither did the vibrating pulse in your skull.

You finally push yourself off the stool and stalk past the hallway to the kitchen, slamming your door in the process. The circle of heads turn in your direction as you appear in the space, each sister cradling a glass of wine in their hands.

“Mamá -mamita- por favor, can you turn that shit down!” You say louder than intended and you know you fucked up just from the look on her face.

“Que te dije de azotar puertas en mi casa, eh?! Cuando vivas en tu casa entonces-”

“-puedes hacer lo que se te dé la gana-” You recite over her words, rolling your eyes and causing the nerves to pound harder in the back of them. “Yes, I know, mami but can you please just turn it down? My head is killing me…”

“Okay- okay. Ya, see? It’s down.” She says, making a show of pointing the control to the stereo and lowering the volume to the lowest. “What, are you hungover again?”

You drag yourself around the counter to greet your aunts with a kiss, then take the empty space beside your mother and rest your aching head over her shoulder. “No, I haven’t gone out… It’s probably just my period, I dunno. Y mi abuelo?” You ask and rub at the empty space between your brows.

“Playing cards with his friends.” Angie answers, picking at the platter they had set in the middle of their circle. “You sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that!?”

“Ay dios, pues maybe cause you’re all moody!” Tere adds.

“Maybe cause I’m nervous!”

“Then that’s why your head hurts…” Your mother says as she gently runs her fingers through the soft curls. Then she laughs out of nowhere. “Remember that time in the school choir, when you had the solo and you were so nervous you-” She’s laughing too hard to finish and the echo of all three only makes you groan.

You pull your head from her shoulder and rest it over your palm with your elbow on the cool surface of the counter. “One: I was like five, and two, you remember that but can’t stop calling me ‘mijo’ every time I walk into a room?”

Her laughter dies down as she waves her hand dismissively and takes a drink from her glass. “You two have the same stride, it's not my fault!”

“So what are you nervous about?” Tere changes the subject while she peels the skin off her grape.

“She’s nervous to see her ex..” Your mother answers, as if you weren’t in the room to speak for yourself.

“Ay, el de los ojitos?” Angie asks surprised. “I like him, he’s cute.”

“Y’know who I like? The other one- the tall one-, give me two more glasses and I’ll climb ‘em like a tree-”

“Ma ya!” You call out with a grossed out expression, trying to avoid the mental picture of your mother and Richie from even materializing in your head.

“Qué? How do you think you got here!?” She says between the chorus of chuckles.

‘Jesus, fuck’ You think and shudder, then take the wine glass from her hand and down the rest of the liquid that successfully drowns your nerves.

With the soft music floating in the air, Angie takes the bottle and pours a hefty amount of liquid into the glass in your hands.

“So, boy troubles?” She asks, only receiving a nod from your part, eyes fixed on the swirling maroon. 

“He’s catering tonight and we didn’t really… end things on a good note.”

“So what? This is your day too and you can’t let a little fight get in the way…”

You don’t have the time or energy to entertain them with the whole story of your failed situation with Carmy. They know about the car crash but not the bridge or of Mikey and the last thing you need is all three finding out over wine and a cheeseboard.

“I just won’t go, it’s easier like that…” You take another sip. “I’ll stay with you guys instead.”

“Ah-ah, no. Mira-” Your mother grabs a hold of your knees and turns your body to face her. “Mi amor, if you stay cause you’re nervous that’s fine, your painting’s will still be there. But you can’t stay just cause you’re scared you might see him.” Her hand feels warm and soft over your knees. 

“I feel like I fucked it up worse with what I said yesterday…” You confess to the women and even when you thought your eyes had gone dry, a few drops seem to accumulate on your bottom lid. “What if that was it, what if the last thing I told him was to get his shit together…”

“Then you were telling him what he needed to hear. You said it because you care, not because you wanted to hurt him and if he can’t tell the difference, then you did the right thing by stepping off that train early.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her side. “But you won’t know if it works out unless you go…”

A hefty sigh rattles your lungs, the wisp of your mother’s familiar perfume filters through your nostrils and calms you down better than the wine ever could. She was right, you couldn’t go through life scared that you might run into him all the time. This was more important to you than having to hide from him, no matter how things had ended.

“Now I know I raised a bad bitch not a little one, asi que andale, finish getting ready or you’ll be late-” A soft laugh bubbles in your throat as she playfully shoves you off the stool and in the direction to your room, turning up the volume again once you’re gone.

“And show us the look before you go!” You hear your aunt Angie’s voice bounce through the hallway.

**********

The whole 24 hours leading up to the auction felt like a fever dream for Carmy. Since the moment you fled the grounds with bloodshot eyes, to the obscene amount of cash they kept pulling out of canned tomatoes, he had felt not at all there. In a daze, flashes of blurred out scenes from a third perspective take the space of memories every time he tries to recall. Like a long ago dream that he can’t quite make out if it’s real or not. Except it is, and they did find that money… and he also did break your heart. 

He still remembers the overwhelming impulse that itched under his skin with every empty can that was thrown into the garbage. To reach for his phone and call you, or better yet, to drive to your place and back because there was no way in hell you would believe him if you didn’t see it for yourself. Even at the end of the day- when he was home washing out the thick pulp from under every fingernail- he wondered if he could still try. Run to your house and confess how much of an asshole he was for not noticing the shit he put you through. Girls dig that shit, right? 

But even if he did run after you now, what would he say? He already proved himself incompetent word-wise, inside the walk-in. The surprise to see you again had rendered him speechless, as if an ice cube had been dropped down his shirt and he had no other choice but to pretend like the cold wasn’t piercing his skin. Pretend with tight fists and wavering stares like it wasn’t eating him alive to refrain from pulling you into his arms. The plain touch of your skin as he nursed your wound was enough to rile up weeks’ worth of shrouded emotions he was too afraid to confess, because every time he tried dialing your number, the words would constrict his throat and leave him heaving over the bathroom sink. 

“I still don’t understand why we gotta wear this…” 

“I think we look fine as hell!” Marcus says grinning and checking himself out in the dull reflection of the oven. “Like professionals…”

“Speak for yourself, mine’s all itchy.” Sweeps mutters under his tone while pulling around the neck of his new chef’s coat.

“Alright, take ‘em off before you stain ‘em with something.” Sydney calls from the entrance with an impatient motion in her hands. “They’re for the event tonight, so we actually look put together and not- well, whatever this is...”

“..Cute?”

“..Sexy?”

“Late. We’re gonna be late, if you don’t quit messing around and finish filling up the truck!” They both yell a hard ‘Yes, Chef!’ then continue hauling the plastic boxes with the preparations for the evening into the van Syd had borrowed from one of her cousins. 

Carmen watches half concentrated to make sure that nothing is thrown around, although he trusts them enough to know they’ll be careful. Instead, he’s focused his attention on finishing the last of the sauces, a sweet Demi Glacé that he insisted on making himself. Now that they would be closing for renovations and the tension of staying afloat wasn’t straining his back, he enjoyed every second of the process. Cooking didn’t feel like something he had to do anymore, but something he wanted to as well as enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since the last time he felt that way. He did know, but the images carried a bitter sensation that weighed thick on his mouth and he was trying excruciatingly hard to stay above his regular broody mood.

“Yo, chef, you not comin’ with?” Marcus asks once they’ve compacted everything inside the small van.

“No, I -uhm-” Fuck. He swallows hard and tries to rack his brain for any plausible excuse. “-I trust you can manage.”

A groan echoes through the small space. “If you’re a little bitch just say that!” Tina chimes in with a mocking tone, setting down the tall metal cylinder filled with spoons and tongs that they’d be using for that night.

“T, c’mon-”

“Yeah, man just say that, don’t bruise my ego like that!”

“I’m not a little-”

“You gotta fight for love, man!”

“Even if she rejects you again-”

“Alright, shut up for a sec-” He grips the edge of the table in irritation, head hanging low. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I broke it off, okay?”

The words feel wrong as they tumble from his mouth. Not because of what they might say, if anything they were the few people he trusted most in the place, but something inside him didn’t like the sensation the words unearthed. They made his chest wither and crack, like the clay you had used to cover his fissures was popping off with every reminder of your absence. 

“...Why?” Marcus asks, breaking the silence. 

Carmy doesn’t answer, and even if he wanted to he wouldn’t know what to say. He chooses to shrug instead, heavy and noticeable in hopes that this is a sufficient response that will get them off his back.

Tina takes a step closer and reaches out to softly pat his shoulder. “No offense Carm, but I don’t think you’ll be able to pull anyone better than her…”

Her words rip a soft snigger from his throat, from his side view he watches her pick up the cylinder again and walk to the back where he assumes the rest of the team awaits by the van.

Marcus stays beside him, contemplating the words around before letting them out. “Shit got rough, then?” 

“That's an understatement” He mutters through bared teeth as he fears another word will split the last piece of clay holding him together.

“My statement still stands… Shit gets rough for everybody but that doesn't mean you gotta go through it alone… just sayin’.”

Marcus pushes himself off the table to leave, taking the sauce with him and leaving Carmy with his tumultuous thoughts in the restaurant that hadn’t known this much peace since its opening day.

**********

The typically calm ambience of the gallery had been replaced by the buzzing sounds of chatter and movements as the last details were polished with only a few hours to the opening. You had been in a hectic frenzy since your arrival, only finally catching your breath when you were certain everything was where it needed to be. The decorations sat strategically by the entrance and away from the attention of the artwork, clipboards and pens had been placed for whoever wanted to bid and the bar stations had been successfully assembled around the perimeter of the room.

“Thanks again for the help, I owe you one.” You say as you help carry the last box of champagne bottles to one of the bars.

“No prob, to be honest I’m just here for the free booze-” Nico answers with a grunt, picking the box from your hands and taking the bottles out to chill in ice.

“As opposed to what? The other free booze at your regular gig?” You ask your cousin in a teasing tone.

“Hey, just cause I drink it, don’t make it free.” 

“Just try not to black out, okay? Angie ’ll kill me if I let you drive home like that!” 

You hear a mocking ‘Yeah, yeah’ as you leave him to go open the back door for Syd, after reading the text from Marcus that they had arrived. The floor feels slightly unstable as you walk past the back, to the door that leads onto the side alley, but you credit it to the irritating thought that it may be Carmen’s face that you’ll see once you open the door.

A sigh of relief- and partial disappointment- parts from you at the sight of Marcus and Sweeps dragging out a long white cooler from the back of a beated van, but no Carmy in sight. They both greet you quickly as you guide them into the area they’ll be occupying temporarily. It’s the same space your easels had been standing in for the last month, though the only evidence of it were the small stains and smudges of cyan and teal on the gray concrete.

“There are another two tables up front, by the expo, so you can serve up there. This one’s just for like, mise en place, if you need anything from scratch.” You say to Syd while the rest of the team finish unpacking.

“Yeah. no this is fine. We finished everything this morning. I only brought a portable burner for a few of the sauces, but other than that, we’re set.”

You nod in response as you watch them observe their surroundings in awe, the multiple rows of never ending art catching their attention.

“Sorry for bailing like that… yesterday.” You blurt out as the words seem to catapult straight from your guilt. “It was a dick move.”

Syd acknowledges it with her own nod. “It was a dick move- but, y’know… I get it.” She shrugs.

Your throat itches to ask about him, if he’s considered coming, even with the excuse to check up on them. But you know that regardless of the answer, the pressure over your chest won’t subside, so you resign to bite the soft flesh inside your mouth to keep the words at bay.

“Uhm. well let me know if you need anything. The whole thing starts in an hour so just make sure to have everything over by the tables by then.”

A chorus of ‘Heard’s resonates in the large space and Syd turns to you with a proud smile, wiggling her brows. You give her an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping back and out into the busy room, striding directly into Nico’s bar.

“Pour me a glass, will ya?” You ask with a soft knock on the counter, applying pressure between your brows.

“Bro, I haven’t even opened anything yet…” You stare up at him through incredulous slits, earning a sigh from his part, then he pulls an open champagne bottle from the small fridge and a glass.

As soon as he sets it down, you take it and rapidly chug the amber liquid, bubbles burning the sides of your throat and filling in the void in your chest.

“Woah, woah- cousin! We’re not gonna run out, chill…”

You place the glass back down and wipe the corners of your mouth. “Sorry, I really needed that.” 

“You good?”

“Yeah… yeah.” You sigh, then turn to scan the room one last time.

Past the glass walls, you can see a small crowd already beginning to form at the entrance. The culmination of months of hard work stands behind the transparent barrier, and a part of you can’t help but to think of all the ways tonight could go wrong. ‘What if the lights go off in the middle of the event?’ or ‘What if the whole thing blows over and we don’t raise any funds?’ and the worst of all ‘What if no one likes my work and they’re the only ones that don’t sell?’. 

“You sure?” He asks with a creased brow. “You’re kinda hyperventilating…”

“Yeah…” You say for the third time, less convinced than the first two. “Y’know what, Nico can you pour-”

“-Way ahead of you.” The soft sizzling of the drink is muted by the instrumental music playing over the speakers, but you still hear the glass slide by your palm, where it rests over the cool surface.

You know it’s a bad idea to drink two glasses straight, especially when all you’ve had to eat is a granola bar you found at the bottom of your bag on the train ride there, but the thought is soon chased away by the cooling liquid trickling down to your empty stomach and drowning it completely. You only finish half of it before being whisked away by Syd to help with setting their station. 

With a pair of latex gloves and your hair thrown into a bun, you paint streaks of raspberry coulis along the bottom of the small dishes, then above that, you place the small tapas that Marcus is assembling beside you. The alcohol has calmed your fingers enough to draw steady lines over the canvas and the repetitive actions soothe the wavering anxiety.

“They turned out fire…” Marcus comments by your side.

“Hmm?”

“The Brioche bites. The chai filling was a good call.”

“Oh, right- yeah, I’m glad!”

“Can’t wait for you to try them, chef. These things are gonna fly!” His excitement is contagious and you can’t help but to smile up at him too.

“I’ll definitely try one before they do…”

“I saw your set by the way, on my way here…”

You swallow dryly, flicking your gaze to him from your hunched position then back to your task.

“Yeah? And, uh, w-what did you think?”

Marcus shrugs lightly and stands to his full height, even in your heels you barely reach his shoulder, let alone without them. Everytime you stand beside him, you’re reminded to straighten your posture, as if that’ll do any good in stretching you up.

“I don’t know shit about art, but I thought it was baller. I like what you did to The Beef. I’d bid, y’know… if I had any money.” 

You nod slowly with a slight smile flourishing on your face and turn back down to fill up a tray for one of the waiters. 

With most of your concentration on the kaleidoscope of served plates, you don’t notice the room starting to slowly fill up. Only when the music grows a little louder and the chatter reaches your ears, you lift your head to spot the swaying crowd already holding bubbling flutes in their hands and gravitating in your direction. 

“Think you can manage, chef? Or do I call for backup?” You challenge Marcus, pointing with your head to the oncoming group.

“Nah, I’m all good, you go ahead. Run ‘em dry” 

“Yes, chef” You respond with a salute and a click of our tongue, then throw your apron under the table and cautiously round it on your way to the open space.

It wasn’t as bad as you assumed it would be. Once you broke through the initial awkwardness of having to answer questions about some of the pieces, it all seemed to flow naturally. You had the most knowledge about them, after all. Months of planning and studying the best layout for each work had you inevitably remembering details that hadn’t seemed useful until now. You could gladly keep answering questions all night if it meant keeping your thoughts shut and your mouth busy.

You avoid your set like an active minefield, though. Now that you think about it, you’ve only seen it complete once -two weeks ago when you finished it- around three in the morning and slightly high. It was the only way you were able to do it without throwing up and turning into an angry sobbing mess. It was also the only set you didn’t hang up yourself, asking instead two of your coworkers for help while you stood outside with the cigarettes you had recently picked up again. In a way it was intentional. You had poured the most turbulent contents of your soul into each stroke, plastered it in the open for everyone to see and dissect. You didn’t want to see it in fear of hating how exposed you felt and pulling the plug. You do wonder. What it may look like under the dimmed lights, if the colors swirl with the shades you intended or if they fall flat against the canvas with no real sentiment.  

The memory of the five paintings laying side by side is a bit foggy in your head and you bite your lip as your feet guide you deeper inside the maze you’ve been avoiding. 

You stop by a wall that harbors your student’s final projects and the dread is momentarily overshadowed by pride. Each painting has its own bidding sheet, it’s not part of the actual auction of course, but it helps boost their morale. Before leaving, you take a closer look at the lists and smile as you read the name of the respective parent, along with the copious sum they wanted to ‘offer’ for their child’s work.

A faint wave of insecurity stirs inside as you spot a sparse crowd discussing technique and motivations of the artist and you gulp down a bit of the liquid in what has become your emotional support glass. 

“I think it’s too obvious…”

“Is it? Really? How so?”

“It’s obviously the crashing result capitalism has had on the smaller businesses of the city…”

“You definitely just made that up-”

A gentle snort blows over the rim of your glass while overhearing the stranger’s conversation. Your heels click softly as you settle by the back wall and eventually drag your eyes up to the five frames. Swirls of pearl, browns and aquamarine decorate the desolate icy blue eyes of a grizzly as it stares directly past the canvas. The sorrow has fallen heavy over droopy lids, patches of ash scatter over its matted fur. Under the large canvas, another three smaller ones depict angry oranges and blood reds swallowing up a pot, a stove top and ultimately engulfing the whole perimeters of The Beef.

The last painting spreads across the bottom of the smaller ones, same dimensions as The Bear. It sits cleaner, in faux composure, with defined lines around the borders of a stainless steel counter observed from the front. A mess of open bottles and jars rests beside a dish, meticulous yet chaotically plated. Splashes of a thick orange sauce invade the surface under a perfectly cooked salmon. It contrasts with the mess surrounding it as it seems like every tiny herb was tweezed on to every spot with perfection. It’s perfect. 

Too perfect. As if it were trying to disguise a deeply rooted impotence, impostor syndrome. An anxiety that is blatantly obvious in the cinder-patched arms that finish plating the dish, fingers gripping onto the steel utensils for dear, dear life.  The small letters ‘S.O.U’ are barely visible under the black soot and repeat a second time over a thick line of green tape along the counter line.

Your ribs rattle with a deep inhale as you knock back the remaining liquid. The crowd in front of you sways in thick groups that momentarily cloud your view of the pieces, giving you seconds to breathe before the piercing eyes you tried to replicate wash over you again. It’s until the bodies disperse, that you catch an unnervingly familiar back leaning down to scribble something on your sheet, then rising and walking in the opposite direction to you. The sensation you feel can only be compared to slowly climbing up the rails of a roller coaster, as if the pit of your stomach had been stuck on land while you crawled up the treacherous metal.

You place the empty glass on the tray of a waiter passing by and despite the alarms ringing in your head that your actions would only cause more harm, you force your stiff legs to move in the direction of your work. With shaky hands you pick up the sheet to inspect the name. An eerie chill claws at your arms and you grip on to the flimsy material with all your strength or you fear you might collapse in front of everyone. In a recognizable cursive- taunting you motionlessly- sits the name ‘Isaac H.’ bidding six thousand dollars. One for each month you spent together. For each fucking month he made you believe he loved you, the sick fuck.

The panic in your veins turns to anger, hot and scolding, traveling at light speed and triggering your neck to check around the space for the familiar face. You’re moved by hatred, stalking out of the maze with the crumbled page digging into your wounded fist, still searching around. A familiar head swims through the crowd then disappears past the door. Your heels click again in the direction of the entrance, throwing the ball of paper into one of the trash cans on your way out. The rage boils too heavily and you have every intention to smack your fist in his face until your rings leave a dent, once you spot him outside.

However, he’s not alone. There’s a girl with him, lovingly hanging on to his arm. It’s not his wife, but someone that closely resembles you from a distance. From the same hair length to stature and the complexion of her skin. It’s a strange mirage that has your steps faltering to a stop and wanting to rub your eyes in hopes that it may all be in your head. She steps up on her toes to leave a kiss on his cheek with a small giggle when his arm pulls her closer to him.

“Oh, you poor thing..” You expect the blatant display to stir your insides in memory, yet pity is the only emotion that seems present over your screwed brows. Pity and shame, that you could not notice how fucked up he truly was so long ago.

You have half a mind to call out to the girl and save her from a similar fate to yours, but before you can, they’re hailing a cab and leaving in the opposite direction to the gallery. A heavy sigh escapes you and you soon find yourself pulling the beaten package and lighter from your cleavage for the third time tonight. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin from the evening air as you walk further away from the door, blowing smoke into the light breeze. You rest your exposed back over the cold glass wall, eyes focused on the passing cars and only moving mechanically to take a drag every few seconds while your other hand unconsciously fidgets with the lighter.

You feel exhausted, the bulk that hovered over your shoulders all through the day finally falling over them like a weighted blanket, rendering you still and heavy against the glass. You thought that seeing Isaac might have made you want to cry, but your exhaustion is far beyond physical at this point and your eyes have grown tired above all else. You rub your finger in the center of your brows, careful to not crush the cig resting between them. 

The low hum of the music playing past the glass lulls you into a state of calmness while you finish your cigarette, hot skin enjoying the soft breeze that comes in through the river.

“Shit-ah-” You hiss and look down to your hand, where the embers have caught up with the filter and nibbled at the delicate layer of skin, the throb makes you drop the bud to the ground. You inspect the small burn, then turn your palm up to see the uncovered cut that Carmy had nursed the evening before and another hefty sigh mixes with the wind. It feels like all you ever do is sigh nowadays.

With the slight lightheadedness of the nicotine and the booze floating in your system, you push your body off the glass and slowly walk back into the gallery in hopes that the event will end soon. As you make your way past the doors, one of the other coordinators tells you that someone interested in purchasing your paintings is waiting by them and for a second your blood runs cold at the thought that Isaac might have come back. But the idea soon falls through, when your eyes try to adjust to the change in lighting and you’re greeted by the blurry image of Carmen.

He stands with all his undivided attention towards the pieces in front of him, with a bouquet of red flowers hanging from his hand and you think that- despite everything else in the day- this is definitely the moment that’ll give you a heart attack. He’s wearing his chef whites, like the one the team is currently sporting, but he looks completely different from that one picture you had seen of him, with his sullen eyes and glossy hair. You swallow hard and deep, eyes racking the flexing muscles that now seem too noticeable under the white material. His sleeves are rolled up, letting the few tattoos peek out from under and his hair holds the messy curls that make your fingers twitch with want.

You stop in your tracks once you’ve spotted him, but don’t take your eyes away from his form, afraid that his presence is only a fiction of your tired imagination. It’s only when his attention is ripped from the frames and directed towards you, that your legs seem to gravitate without option towards him. There’s a mixture of emotions blending with the champagne in your system that makes your breath ragged and your skin hot despite the cold air invading the large room.

Your steps are cautious and after what feels like eternal seconds of anguish, you’re standing by his side, the heat radiating from his body matching your own.

“Hey…” He breathes out.

“Uh… hi.”

“I-uh- I know you’re supposed to get, like, flowers for actors and stuff but… didn’t know what to get for artists…” He speaks while lifting up the bouquet of what you can now distinguish as red carnations, fresh and full ones that make your heart grow too big inside your chest.

You nod your head slowly to acknowledge them but don’t speak, afraid the little control you have left will evaporate into thin air with your words, the sight of his soft baby blues already have you like a fly to a Venus.

“This is…” His eyes fall back to the wall, scanning over the frames in awe as you fidget with your fingers by your sides. “..a-amazing.” Then he takes a closer look at the bottom painting, brows slightly creased. “You… painted me?” He asks surprised

You shrug and point to one of the smaller frames. “I also painted The Beef on fire…”

“I almost did set The Beef on fire-” 

“What?”

“-O-on accident.”

You sigh out the heavy breath trapped in your chest, shoulders slouched in defeat. “Carmy…” His name feels at home over your lips, sweet honey suckles coating each syllable.

“I know, I really suck at this, just… gimme a sec-” He scratches the ghost of an itch over his forehead, more out of habit as he scrunches his eyes shut and searches his brain for the words that have been circling inside since last night.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you- and it was a complete dick move to react like that when all you did was try to tell me something important. I’m sorry for… everything. For thinking that you were only with me cause Mickey- for never calling you back to try and fix things…”

You tear your eyes away from his wounded ones, only to direct them to the similar expression harbored by your creation.

“I thought that… if I stayed away long enough, then maybe you’d notice how fucked I was a-and not want anything to do with me anymore.” He plays with his hand to try and calm the nerves, cracking his knuckles multiple times until the little bubbles won’t budge anymore. “I wanted to, though… call you.”

His soft confession slowly turns the tap on your barely contained feelings and you find yourself staring his way with hopeful eyes.

“Every time I was home I- I had to hold in my breath cause just the smell reminded me of you, and when I saw you in the restaurant I thought I had finally lost my shit” Carmy laughs softly under his breath. “And when you left-”

He swallows the knotted sensation blocking his throat and you take his pause to sniff back and swallow your own batch of tears.

“I tried to let go of it, to forget and just let you go- I really did Fox- but all that’s been running through my head since then is how good it felt to hear you say you love me-” He takes a decisive step towards you, palms growing sweaty under the cellophane wrap. “-and how much I want to hear it over and over and over again- but… just from you.”

Your sight of him grows blurry again past the tears that you thought dry,  coating your eyes.

“I didn’t know how to tell you before but I’ve been going to therapy. It’s al-anon family, for-uh- a couple sessions now… around three months.” He notices your expression is more confused than before and mentally cringes at his lack of communication skills. “It’s helped out a lot. You had nothing to do with what Mickey did, it’s a really fuckin’ awful coincidence, I get it now. But I’m glad he was there to stop you- to save you- cause I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t here, Fox.”

And there it was, the second you felt your heart stop and any trace of oxygen leave your body, a feeling only he could ever give you. Your lips tremble slightly with the tears in your eyes and you pull your bottom lip under your teeth to stop its shaking. He takes another step, then another, until your chests are so close, you’re both only a deep breath away from sealing the space.

“I searched half the city cause I wanted to get you Carnations…” He mumbles, raising up the bouquet in your direction a second time. “I know they were your-”

“-Grandmother’s favorite” You speak in unison and chuckle. “...yeah” 

This time you don’t reject his approach, wrapping a hand around the base, fingers lingering over his for a few moments. Your gaze stays glued on the ruffled rouge petals, a soft smile curving ever so slowly at the ends of your lips.

“Whatever happens, I want to be by your side when it does. As a friend or-or more- if you’ll still have me…”

Beat. Exhale. Beat. Inhale.

It’s soft and tender and calm. The way your heart at last feels at rest. Like it had worked in overdrive all this time to keep you alive for this precise moment and can now take a step back in relief. A hue of sapphire invades your surroundings, drowning the walls and bystanders in what you’ve baptized as a ‘Carmy shade of blue’. Incomparable and unique to the man bathing you in his loving stare. 

Your body reacts before your mind, losing the last bit of self control under the gentle waves, with arms circling his shoulders like a raft. It’s as if you can breathe again, nose clear, lungs full and head above the water; and you know very well that damned is the person that deposits all their stability on to another but you don’t seem to care. Not when the arms pressing you tightly to his sturdy chest feel like coming home.

“I missed you.” You whisper against the dip of his neck, nose nuzzled into the wild strands.

“Me too.” He sniffs to pull back the joyous tears. “I meant it Fox, I really do fuckin’ love you-” Empty hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head up to press your lips to his.

You don’t try to hold back the grin the awaited kiss brings you, instead sliding your hand to his chest and gripping around his uniform to pull him impossibly closer. A pleased sigh escapes your chest when he pulls back and presses his forehead over yours.

“I love you too, Bear.” Is all you can say.

The bustle of your surroundings grows quiet in deaf ears, silenced by Carmen’s steady breath and the resting beat in your chest.

“Alright Van Gogh, let's see what you got- holy shit…”

You can hear Richie’s voice around the corner before you even see him and take a step away from Carmy, he still keeps his arm around your waist to hold you close once his cousin joins you in front of the frames. 

“This you?” He gawks pointing towards the wall. You nod. “Damn. Badass…”

It’s the most quiet you’ve seen him since you met the man, he’s just standing still while absorbing every detail in great concentration.

“So anyway, you two fuckin' again or what?” He turns to you after a few little seconds of silence. 

“Jesus, Cousin! Why you gotta go make everythin’ weird-”

“I had to ask just in case I fucked up again-” They start talking over each other as you just stand there and smile at the banter. “Sorry sweetheart, you and I wouldn’t have worked out anyway…” Richie directs towards you.

“I am truly shattered.” You respond, hand sarcastically over your heart. 

“Yeah, yeah…” He groans. “Listen cuz, some rich guy’s asking if we do weddings and shit. You go talk to ‘em, I didn’t know what to say since we're closin’ and all that, plus rich people give me hives-”

“Wait, you're closing the restaurant?” You ask up at Carmy in confusion.

“Renovating-” He blurts out.

“Didn’t he tell you ‘bout the money?-” The taller of the two throws your way.

“Money?- The fuck did I miss…”

“It’s kind of a long story…” His grip on your waist pulls you in closer. “Tell you at home… yeah?”

You can’t say no to the way his eyes glow under the fluorescents, though it seems something more shines behind them than just the brightness in the room. You bite down on your lip with a smile and only speak a soft ‘okay’ with a kiss to the corner of his lips. Richie groans again from a few steps away, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes, though deep down he knows he feels relief that his cousin won’t be so alone anymore.

You stay in each other's line of sight for the rest of the night. While he helps out plating the canapes, Carmy sneaks a couple peeks in your direction. Seeing you move freely through the space with a new found delight while speaking to some of the guests brings a peace to his chest that he had been afraid to never feel again. You catch his stares each time and share a complicit smile with every one of them. It’s subtle, just for him- a loving message delivered in a crowded room- ‘i love you’s scribbled in little notes and slipped across the desk in silence. 

The room started to die down around 11. You had bribed Nico with the promise of food if he gave you some drinks that the team gladly took once they were done carrying everything back into the van.

The gravel in the back alley of the gallery groans under everyone’s  tired feet, but in spite of that, there’s a jovial spark in the cold breeze around them. Crates and long empty coolers serve as makeshift seats for the family huddled together. You and Carmy sit on the edge of the van, doors open wide and with a drink in the hand that isn’t holding the others’ while everyone debriefs their day. 

“Dude I swear if one more person asked me for some gluten free, keto, low calorie bull crap I was gonna lose my shit.” Tina groans before taking a swig off her drink.

“Yeah, I heard you saying ‘No hablo ingles’ halfway through the night.” Sweeps jokes, earning a sincere laugh from the group.

“Hey too bad your work didn’t sell.” Syd says in your direction. 

“No one bid on ‘em?”

“Dunno-” You shrug, leaning into Carmy’s side with his arm around you, feet swinging peacefully and heels fully abandoned by the door. “Marge told me there was no way they could know who won cause they couldn’t find the bidding sheet.”

“Tough luck…” Richie mumbles from his own seat. “They were pretty sick, kid.”

“Thanks… It’s not that bad really, she let me take ‘em home. Maybe it can be an early opening gift for your new place…” You turn to Carmy, who holds a loving smile to you and nods warmly.

“What’re we gonna call it, anyway?” Marcus asks after a couple minutes when the conversation broke down into smaller ones.

“Oh, we already got a name.” The man by your side answers.

“We do?”

“Yeah… ” He turns to you for a microsecond while his other hand scratches a phantom itch under his nose in nervousness. “It’s-uh, it’s The Bear.”

“The Bear..” Marcus repeats, swirling the words around in his mouth and smiling approvingly to the taste. “I like it. To The Bear.” He raises his glass in the center of the circle you’ve created and everyone follows suit.

Tonight, the midnight sky is bright with millions of stars and the unspoken promise that whatever happens, you will be by each other’s side when it does. 

So you scoot closer to the edge, toes grazing the cold gravel and lips pressed to Carmy’s beaming face as you all toast ‘to The Bear’.

Epilogue.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

[deva-arts]

I was thinking about this again

"Omg Vincent, you're nailing the 'sickly, haunted man' look in one go! The modeling industry would love you!" Vincent looks younger when he isn't contorting his face into what he calls expressions. He is three seconds away from losing it.

Three seconds later:

He managed the herculean task of sitting still for these photos because he was curious to see what he looked like if he was... Okay.

He soon realizes that he hates literally everything about the itchy, layered clothing, itchier cakey concealer, and restrictive fashion. Why did he agree to this again?

"WAIT! I have ten more outfits!" "IT COMES OFF. NOW." "But-" "NOW. I'M DONE." "At least let me fix your hair-" "NO MORE, WOMAN."

[cloudydays69]

Here They be!

They don't have a name yet, even though I've had them since last year

They're like a stitched backed together imp and I can't think of a name for them aughhh

HOLY SHIT THAT LOOKS SO GOOD AEAEE!!! They remind me of Cakey from appetite of a people pleaser /pos

I feel like their name would be something like Twilight, Noir or uhh, Twix-? that's the kind of vibes I get from em' (ooooo omg another nams idea, What about Rips? :0)

My ass ain't good with giving name ideas LMAO

[tfshouldidohere]

GAAAAAASPPPP SINO SI RIDGEEEEEEEE

laro nlng ako ng stardew 😭😭😭 baka magiging normal ulit ako after a few hours of gameplay 🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻

[joesalw]

Honestly the biggest difference between those 2 pictures you posted is the lighting (I’m amazed Beyoncé had such bad lighting for her red carpet given how obsessed she is with having only flattering pictures of herself, everyone even Beyoncé looked so washed out), her hairstyle and her makeup. Taylor is wearing much harsher makeup at the Renaissance premiere and it’s doing her no favours. And while I don’t doubt that Taylor does Botox and fillers, or that she’s had other work done on her face, she certainly hasn’t had anything drastic done to her face recently. These “omg what has she done to her face” comments really aren’t all that different from Swifties making negative comments on Joe’s appearance. Just saying.

First of all I wasn’t talking about what botox or filters she's done to her face, but I was talking about how miserable and frustrated she looks. Her face looks like she has been crying for a while and the make up is done harshly to hide her dark eyebags underneath which makes it look very cakey. It also seems like she's been living on alcohol, so just a super shitty phase overall. I also don't really care about what anybody does to their body or face, i don't have any interest in that, none of my business. But this statement came from a concerned point of view as I am a former fan and have seen her appearances very closely in the past years, this is unlike swifties who make fun of Joe even though he evidently looks lighter and happier than ever after the breakup.

[underworld-park-offical]

Craig

Shave off your eyebrows and it will get you famous

Also this is the same person that unsubscribe, stole your cents, Said that you were bald and stop wearing wigs

Soooo

You bald ass motherfucker

No money looking goofy ass

No subscribes

Also

No bitches

OMG IS THIS GREGORY_CUTIE_PIE_3RD!?!?!? LEAVE ME ALONE YOU FUCKING CAKEY WHORE YOUR MAKEUP SUCKS ASS I WILL LITERALLY BLOCK YOU WTF 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡

-Craig_The_Real_Tucker

[heich0e]

liv do you like brownies? if so do u have a favorite recipe?

omg twin brain i made brownies last night!! i used a new recipe for the first time but changed like everything abt it so i will put what my recipe ended up being under the cut <3

also psa i rly like cakey brownies over fudgy ones and these are not fudgy at all so that might not be everyone's preference!!

in a blender i put:

1/2 an avocado 1/4 cup (60g) vegan butter, melted 1 tsp vanilla 3/4 cup (150g) sugar 3/4 cup (180ml) almond milk

whizzed that up till it was all super smooth and fluffy!! you could also do this by hand if u mash up the avocado, but make sure it's rly smooth before you add it into everything else!!

then in a separate bowl you whisk: 1 cup (120g) flour 1/2 cup (50g) cocoa 1/2 tsp salt 1 tsp bicarb

fold the wet ingredients into the dry, then pour into a parchment lined pan (i used 9x9 square pan, but you could probably also use an 8x11) and bake at 350f/180c for 20-25 mins!!

i added white chocolate chips and crushed up pieces of pretzel to the top of mine before baking but that is definitely not a necessity <3

[g1ggl3-c4t]

Random ghost and pal tickle thoughts <3

Say and Arc play a silly game called "tazzer" where they stand/sit close to each other and take turns trying to jab each other in the side, tummy, ribs, or under arms, it's like ninja. It always ends up turning into a full blown tickle fight between them

OKAY THE YUME NIKKI REFERENCES IN RECKLESS BATTERY BURNS HAVE ME THINKING SO MUCH HEBDJS- SO Tamari will just info dump about yume nikki to Mariyam and Mariyam loves hearing Tamari be excited about something but sometimes she gets bored of hearing the same stuff over and over again so sometimes she'll just be like "Tamari lay down" and then she'll tickle their tummy while they talks, and when Tamari calls Mariyam out on tickling them she plays dumb and says something like "I'm checking your sensors, keep talking" and Tamari just keeps blabbering on about their silly game through their laughter <3

Tamari purrs...

ALSO TAMARI LEARNED HOW TO DO THE YUME NIKKI SCREAM AND IT MAKES MARIYAM GIGGLE SO SHE'LL POKE THEIR SIDE OR TUMMY SO THEY DO THE SCREAM <3333

Nancy tends to over work herself and forget to take care of herself so sometimes when Henry gets home from work and sees that she's been working on a big project with no breaks he'll walk over and act all lovey dovey at first by wrapping his arms around her waist or giving his wife little kisses, the two will talk for a bit but then Henry asks "have you taken any breaks today?" and Nancy will just go quite, Henry then absolutely wrecks his wife <3333

Kennith is a shitty little ler and loves to fuck with Stephanie bc she can't hear him coming

Stephanie and Kennith get into so many tickle fights that they just stopped counting

They drag Greg into the tickle fights and that man will end them in two minutes with out even being touched

Bri and Avery are so gay omg- when the two cuddle Bri will sometimes just knead Avery's belly like a cat and it drives the poor girl insane <3

Avery has sharp acrylic nails and loves to lightly rake her nails up Bri's back or ribs or literally anywhere she can reach

Nana doesn't like super loud noises but when she's tickling someone that's a whole different story

Nana will tell stupid jokes and she's just the teasiest ler ever <33

Chris constantly claims that he's above tickling the girls because it's just "too childish and idiotic" but when Cakey or Slurpee are alone with him they fear for their little lee lives-

Chris is such a mean fucking ler and he loves to hear Slurpee and Cakey scream with laughter though he will never admit it

Slurpee and Cakey tried to get back at Chris but uh... Yeah they were laughing for hours after Chris was done and almost fucking died-

[luffythinker]

Lesbns Uraraka and Melissa from movie 1!

Long distance girlfriends can make it happen, they video chat alot. They text eachother every single day. Uraraka's blond beautiful American girlfriend who's slightly taller makes her heart jump out of her chest Melissa sends her gadgets over air mail and pays that extra to get it to her quickly. when they do meet up when they are able to it's like those videos when internet friends meet for the first time but it's like that everytime they meet. Uraraka wants nothing more than to hold her girlfriend in her arms strong arms they cuddle and snuggle Melissa admires her strong hero girlfriend's arms cause we know she might be a little chub but shes got muscles too it impresses her. Melissa is just thic while Uraraka is built. Melissa using that pogo stick invention she made to jump around while Uraraka floats by to give her a kissy kiss on the lips and they laugh. Uraraka always forget to take off Melissa's glasses before they kiss and they always bump her in the face and they laugh. When they are older Melissa says she wants to move to Japan to be with her girlfriend. There is absolutely certain dresses or suits or clothing one of them own that the other finds hot and loves when they wear it. They call eachother things like snookums baby cakey baby boo and they love to hold hands. When Melissa moved in with Uraraka in Japan she brought her clothes over in a bag and Uraraka didnt know what it was she opened it and saw a thong and she overheated at the thought.

My little girlfriend friendship is lesbianism

would you believe me if I said I shipped them so much when I saw the movie back when it came out???

ofc long distance can work, we lesbians are experts on that. Omg, I can see them sending little updates of their day to each other, especially with timezones I assume the other always wake up to a bunch of texts with little cute things like "just had breakfast" "on the bus" "omw to class" and cute pics with them :D they cry every time at the airport (both for pickups and when leaving)!! ALSO with Uraraka's quirk, there's so much potential for kisses in the air or flying, I'm gonna cry just imagining it. Oh I definitely agree they have like embarrassing pet names, I assume there are pet names in Japanese too and Melissa blushes every time she hears her gf calling her one of those [mental note to research that] The difference in clothing would be sohdfknkjsd let's also give Ochako some face because Melissa would collapse once she saw her gf in a sports bra working out !!

we love lesbianism around here let's keep going <3

[luddlestons]

Y'know, I haven't started M9, BUT every time I see this Molly Caleb Essek trifecta, it reminds me of this cakey-cookie thing a family-owned pastry-shop sold where I grew up tbh.

It was two plum cakes/cookies with vanilla creme in the middle, like an Oreo. Except it was crunchy.

Molly Caleb Essek is a cakey-cookie forever and ever to me.

omg YES that ship is for SURE Caleb in the middle of a purple cookie sandwich! that's so cute <3

it's a big ol show but I hope if you ever watch it you enjoy!

[limeinmydms]

CAKEY & DIANA OMG 😭😭😭🩷🩷🩷

Aren’t I more than everything?

[tarnished-butsogrand]

hiii sorry it’s been a while i got caught up with christmas things, but i’m back!

honestly my house is louder than the neighbourhood, just bc there’s 5 of us and a dog, but yeah it’s what i’m used to so i hate complete silence and i also always need some sort of white noise or movie on in the background to relax. better than music even if it sounds like people are just chatting so that’s why walking tours are good. they also make me feel less isolated bc it’s like i’m rly somewhere else! my brother got me a projector for christmas so i’ve been putting walking tours up on the wall which is cool!

yeahh i totally get what u mean. it is rly cool that ppl celebrate things differently and yet all together. that’s one thing i’m grateful for growing up in america, the fact that i have seen and been exposed to so many different cultures, it just changes ur perspective and makes u see the world in a more positive well rounded way i think, to see how different ppl are and yet how similar. we all have different traditions but we all Have traditions, usually involving food and music and being together. and pretty lights. everyone loves pretty lights and i love that about people. :’)

i will def share pics when i come off anon! hopefully i can find some good ones of baked goods. often the cupcakes are demolished before a pic is taken lol but i def have pics of birthday cakes and pies i’ve made. making food is one of the most satisfying things ever. especially when u feed other ppl with it and they love it! hehe i have friends and relatives who are much better bakers too, so i can pass along their advice. i have an amazing oatmeal cookie recipe that my friends gave me that i cherish and will happily share. steam puddings are like….. rly soft cake? and it’s cooked in a pot with steam. so it’s like soft steamy fluffy, texture kind of between a soft cake and a thick mousse, but with flour so more cakey though just rly rly moist. (that was a terrible explanation forgive me hahaha)

ooo u have a twin?? i’m so jealous i’ve always wanted a twin. idk why i just love twins/triplets i always get fixated on stories about them. it feels so special to have someone made at the same time as u. are u guys very similar or different? do u have twin telepathy?

yess i’m very crafty and artistic. i’ve had a few etsy shops and sold at craft fairs, but i tend to start a lot of random projects so i have half finished things just everywhere. are u crafty? haha thank u i’m biased towards my tree too ^-^

omg we grew up with the gingerbread man story too but tbh i also don’t remember the ending…. maybe it’s for the best 😅

yesss it’s the one with jude law! i will def pass down as many things to my kids as possible. this christmas was the first one without my grandma on my dad’s side, and we made her famous truffles together. it’s nice to feel like she’s still with us so i definitely cherish traditions like that.

i had a wonderful holiday thank u!! i don’t have secret santa bc im not currently in school and unemployed 😅😅 but me and my family give each other gifts. i loved all of them but i was rly excited to get fancy perfume this year!! burberry Her and Goddess, my gg (other grandma) ordered them for me after we smelled them in the store together and they were divine. very excited to smell like a fancy lady haha. the best gift i’ve ever given….. hmmm…… i pitched in on a drum set for my dad a couple years back and he cried, he hadn’t had one in years. that one felt pretty special.

gosh i’ve learned how to convert the temperatures so many times and never remember. yes i rly rly miss the snow!! every winter. hopefully this year i’ll end up living somewhere different by next christmas.

hope you’ve had a lovely week 🌸❄️

This is somehow the third time I am typing out this message. 😭 I don't why but I keep losing my messages. Anyway, hellooooo! What are your plans for New Year's? It's already New Year's here, so Happy New Year! Hope this year brings many new blessings in your life!

I am so sorry to hear you haven't been feeling well, hope you feel better now. And I am really, really sorry I have taken so long to reply. I haven't been on here much and on top of that, I got really overwhelmed and kept putting things off, but it was really unfair of me to do so.

Oh, yes, I hate silence with a vengeance! I keep my noisy fan on even in winters to dispel the silence. And I use brown noise to go to sleep. I used to use whale sounds but it was too haunting for me. Do fall asleep to music? A projector is such a great gift! You can turn any room into a movie theatre, provided you have an empty wall. So cool, so cool! Do you like to go out to the movies or do you like to watch them at home?

That line about lights, so true. So true. Yep, it really is a blessing to get to live with people of different countries with different traditions! It's lovely to think about all the people in the world as one big family. 💓

Yes! I cannot wait! Also I am really excited to talk to you off anon too, it's been lovely talking to you! 💖💖💖 Making a birthday cake for a friend is such an amazing gift, actually. It trumps all else. Anything that makes people happy is a wonderful thing, but something that's so crucial to the human experience.... 🌞 Cooking is genuinely a love language in every shape and form. I feel like the steam cake is equivalent to our pressure cooker cake? I don't know much about baking but the way you're describing it, I feel like it could be that. And it's not a terrible explanation at all!!

Hehe, thanks! The most fascinating thing about us is that we don't look alike at all! We are what they call fraternal twins, so it's hard to make out we are sisters, let alone twins. We are very different, but we are very very close to each other. As for telepathy, ummm we often find ourselves thinking the same thing or coming to the same conclusion which is sweet.

Heyy, that's so cool! I would love to see some of the stuff you've made too. 💓💓 The fact that you have etsy shop and have sold at fairs, uff, that's amazing!! What kinds of things do you make? I am not crafty per se, but I taught myself how to crochet (a bit) and I paint, though I am not very good at it. But I love this whole concept of making something with your own hands... I am looking forward to learning embroidery.

I am sorry to hear about your loss, I love that you chose to honour her memory by making her recipe! It's so cool to think that your future generations, will in a way, know your grandmother through you.

I love perfumes! I am kind of lowkey obsessed with the way people smell? Like I love laundry detergent and nice smelling body lotions- the works. What kind of perfume do you like? I hope you enjoy those perfumes... How would you describe their scent? To be honest, I am not that well-equipped to guess at all individual notes of a perfume and stuff like that. I just know what I love hehe. Hey, that's such a sweet story! Is he a rock music fan like you, and has he passed it on to you? Do you know how to play the drums?

It's 9/5 , 5/9 something, I just don't know anymore. 😭😭😭😭

Happy happy new yearrrrrrrrrr friend! Ahhhh, I am so excited to actually talk to you (if that makes sense). Hope this day is beautiful and leads into a beautiful new year, love. Love you loads and loads 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 I am so grateful to have met you and talked to you.

[waitforyrlove]

it was the ysl illuminator pen!! its really good for lifting your eye areas apparently but i tried it just now as a regular concealer and i like it bc its not cakey under your eyes and it didnt crease at all

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ooh omg i kinda need to try ysl products i never ever experimented