#EXACTLY WHAT I ORDERED 🍽🍽🍽🍽

[carnation-damnation]

Post-Shift 2 is a good videogame.

Anyhow. Nobody talks abt the lore because nobody knows what the fuck is going on/wants to look into it. I only ever understood FNaF lore because somebody else had already compiled all the info, so I assumed I wasn't ever gonna understand it -- the way Rjac (that's the dev) writes is already hard for me to understand.

So then I saw this secret cutscene that was incredibly easy to understand, basic af plain english with an emotional core. It 1. Confirms that some of the characters are the mainline fnaf animatronics, &, 2. Is big sad parceque it's like. There's a kid in there that's been body horrored into a robot that belongs to a company with a motto of "If it's broke, then don't fix it," & they are awake & aware enough to be miserable.

So I see this & turn my brain on. The gist of the whatsit is that in PS1, you play as Thomas, who's a normal FNaF night guard. He works your standard FNaF night shift & leaves his job traumatized. He can't get anybody to listen to him or take him seriously when he tries to talk about Afton's robots being dangerous, so he becomes obsessed with finding some proof to validate himself & shut down Freddy's. He breaks into Afton's labs, gets caught by Afton himself & gets FNaF'ed into the divorce king himself, One-Eye.

PS2 starts with One-Eye being held in an undisclosed location being interviewed by people who knew Thomas. They are investigating his dissapearance -- from their PoV, he was looking into a company, dug too deep & maybe uncovered something real, then poof! Dead, body not found. They do not know the guy they're looking for is in front of them. One-Eye breaks outta their containment & your character for PS2, Sarah, dies. She gets brought back from the dead by... The Crafted Essence? Idfk, it's this fuck-off ugly little Bonnie thing. Just imagine a 3'1" Bonnie that's made out of Kraft Singles -- that fucking thing. Nights 1-3 is Sarah recounting her time working at the Compage Toy Co warehouse, Compage being a toy company Afton owns, & the warehouse being a front for Afton's labs down below. She was working their to help with this investigation, with clues being left around her home by some person.

Anyways, then Kraft Singles Bonnie tells her to fuck off outta there -- she's told to leave so she doesn't interfere with some plan the animatronics have going on. She doesn't do that, because it's night 3 of a FNaF fangame -- we gotta be here for at least 2 more nights.

Going further down, she passes through the place PS1 (mostly) took place in (Stages 01-04), then goes further down into the boss fight of this game -- Night 6's Stage 05. This game has multiple endings, so the shitty ending is Sarah fucking off to go back home & die for unknown reasons. There's a big monologue from some fucking guy, here, & I don't know what he's going on about -- she's gonna die, then he's gonna pick up the broken pieces & do something or another -- no idea. Kraft Singles Bonnie is in this cutecene, so this is presumably the plan they didn't want the pc to interfere with, but Sarah's also part of the plan? Idk. The last thing you see in this ending is One-Eye, standing in your house & watching his friend die, confirming he was leaving y'all those clues in nights 1-3.

Then there's a good ending, which is getting a company shut down. It 1. Confirms Sarah waa revived as an endoskeleton after dying in the opening cutscene, &, 2. Has her stabbing the heart of a machine called Revenant's End. Revenant's End is all the Revenants (including One-Eye) tearing themselves to pieces & stuck in one body -- very reminescent of FNaF 6's Candy Cadet stories. Sarah pierces their collective heart (there's dialogue abt this heart's importance, & it is specifically One-Eye's) & free those spirits, then keel over for an unknown reason. Idfk, maybe it's one of those ghostly "moving on after you're done with unfinished business" type deals, or maybe Sarah is connected to the Revenants, or maybe your body is just shitty & breaks down? There's promo material that talks about deterioration in the animatronics, idk.

I have to cook, now goodbah

LETS GOOOO RAHHH

[vividxpages]

🍸🧈🧄🥯🫒

cooking and sharing food and eating food together is a love language and I feel like Jace is an expert at it. Like he's so attentive and makes mental notes on what you like so he can surprise you with it on your next date. You mention you always wanted to try a certain restaurant but it's too far out the city or expensive? Jacaerys takes you there and makes it so memorable for you.

It's so natural for him to share his food with you as well. You'll always order an appetizer together, knowing exactly he'll take the green olives and the bread with butter and seasalt while you stick to the black olives and grilled veggies. He'd thoughtlessly brush away a crumb from the corner of your mouth and you are so in love. Also makes sure to hand you a napkin or refill your glass for you. In a world of boys, he's a gentleman, you know? 🥂🍽

And! I mentioned this before in another post, but he's a sweet tooth so there always is dessert. Like no matter how good he ate and he complains he's full, he perks up at dessert and shares a childlike smile with you.

He just- *slamming a fist on the table* spoonfeeds you tiramisu and knows your favorite kind of ice cream and he's so romantic and just the perfect boyfriend, okay?

(Obviously, he pays every time, duh.)

So, yeah he eats and not just you, yknow?

[thatmexisaurusrex]

🍽🍽! Angst pleases me lol

Make Me Write Monday

@kinard-buckley also asked for this, so I thought I would just answer this in one ask hehe

This is technically a Denial-Verse Side Story I'm hoping to finish it and post it at some point. I'd say this happens after A Surprise Visit and before The Fire is Inside the House. And 😂 okay, so it's a little more than three sentences, but I've got them, so I might as well show them, right? Enjoy! 🥰

*****

“I think I just had the worst shift of my life,” Tommy said as he dropped his duffle next to the door, a little – a little shocked by what had just happened to him on that shift.

Evan was at the table. He was setting up his table for dinner. In his messy apron and a smudge of sauce on his face. And all Tommy wanted was to sink into his usual chair and lean on Evan’s shoulder and try to piece together what the fuck had just happened to him.

Because he didn’t know how to comprehend it.

He hadn’t been able to his entire shift. His drive back to Evan’s place.

“Tell me about it. You should have seen the bullshit that Gerrard had us do. What he ordered us to do almost got the victim killed. It was – what the fuck is wrong with that guy, right?” asked Evan, and Tommy knew Evan didn’t mean it like this, he really knew, but it felt like Evan was glossing over what Tommy had just said.

And.

And they had been talking about Gerrard for weeks. Weeks. Weeks of an endless barrage of trauma and bad choices on the part of Vincent that seemed to seep into the very fabric of Tommy and Evan’s lives.

Tommy didn’t fault Evan for talking about the man so much. There was bound to be a lot happening that wasn’t good at the 118 at the moment. Tommy understood too well what it was like to be under Gerrard’s leadership.

Evan should talk about it.

Work through his feelings.

Be heard and know that he wasn’t overreacting. That his responses to this man were realistic. His, Chimney’s, Hen’s, Eddie’s, Ravi’s – all of them were correct in their anger and appalment against the man.

But.

But it was also straining.

It was a death of a thousand cuts that was slowly making all of them more and more raw and stressed out. No one did well working under traumatic conditions, after all.

And Tommy felt horrible, but he was so tired. And he knew how bad Evan had it right now. But Tommy wanted to talk about what happened to him.

He just wanted a moment to talk about his worst shift ever.

And this wasn’t as if he didn’t want Evan to talk about his day, but they had been talking about Evan’s terrible days for weeks on end, and Tommy just wanted one day.

One day about Tommy’s horrible day.

Which was terrible. And selfish. And cruel. But Tommy couldn’t help but say, “Evan, I just told you I had the worst shift of my life.”

“And I was talking about my shift too,” said Evan slowly as he sat down at the table, “Because we both talk about our shifts at dinner.”

And.

Yes.

That was sort of true.

“Sometimes, we talk about my shift,” said Tommy as he walked to the table and leaned on one of the chairs, “Sometimes. But we always talk about your day.”

Which was probably unfair to say.

But it was true.

They always talked about Evan’s day. And that was okay. Evan needed that now more than ever. Evan was having a lot of terrible days. But – but Tommy had a terrible day today.

And it hurt that Evan wasn’t seeing that he needed this right now.

Evan furrowed his brow.

“Last dinner we talked about you saving a cat from a tree,” Evan pointed out, as if he had to be right.

Or maybe.

Maybe Evan was just confused by the idea that it hadn’t been exactly equal the last few weeks.

“No, that was four dinners ago,” said Tommy clearly.

Because.

It really was.

“That can’t be right.”

Tommy.

Tommy didn’t understand why this was the sticking point.

“That’s what you really want to focus on right now?” asked Tommy, a little – a little exasperated.

Which wasn’t usually where Tommy lived as a person, but well, he didn’t have the patience he usually did. And that really did feel like the wrong place for Evan to focus on at the moment.

“I – I didn’t mean it as like, the most important part of this discussion. I’m just – did we really not talk about your day the last three dinners?” asked Evan, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah. Evan. We didn’t,” said Tommy softly, “And that’s – that’s okay. But. But that’s not really the point I’m trying to make here.”

“What other point could you be making?” asked Evan, and – and it wasn’t defensive, but it felt defensive, “Should I not be talking about my days? Because they’ve all been terrible. I’m sorry that all of my days have been terrible. I don’t mean to take over the conversation, but it’s hard to not talk about all the things Gerrard does.”

Tommy rubbed his face as he tried to not read that as defensive. Because Evan wasn’t like that. Tommy knew that.

But this was.

Tommy didn’t have the spoons for this.

“You know what? I’m not that hungry anymore,” said Tommy as he – as he walked over to the door and picked up his duffel.

“What?” said Evan, and Tommy immediately heard Evan stand up, “You’re just leaving?”

Tommy took a deep breath in.

A deep breath out.

He turned to Evan, who – who looked pissed. And hurt. And scared.

And.

Fuck.

“Evan, I had the worst shift of my life today. I really did. I do not have the patience. I do not have it in me. I need some space to think without saying something I don’t mean to you right now. I’m going home today. I’m not abandoning you. I’m not leaving you. I just need some space to think,” said Tommy clearly.

“So, you’re running away from the conversation?” asked Evan, and okay, that hit a nerve.

“My mom almost died because she refused to be treated by me, I – ” Tommy started to say, started to yell, and –

And he could see the regret in Evan’s eyes.

The instant regret.

And Tommy regretted yelling that at him. At just springing it like that.

Tommy didn’t yell.

He wasn’t that person.

He needed to not be like this to Evan. He needed space.

“ – I love you, Evan. I need some space,” said Tommy.

And he knew Evan was saying something behind him.

But Tommy couldn’t.

He needed to not be there right now.

He needed to be alone.

He needed to make himself a priority, just this one time.

So, Tommy left Evan’s loft.

[peaches2217]

🍽

🍽️ - Dinner date

I am so sorry this took so long, but I hope it's worth the wait!!

Regalia

~~~

Mario was in full regalia.

Further: Mario was in full regalia, casually, by his own choice.

The whole getup was so very un-Mario — the deep navy tunic, the gold buttons and tasseled shoulder pads, the white trousers and tall black boots. He looked more suited for engaging in political discourse than plumbing or carpentry or any of the other hundreds of things he enjoyed far more. Yet not a single thread felt out of place. It was him, somehow, and it suited him perfectly.

Peach felt suddenly woozy. “Devastatingly attractive” didn’t even begin to describe how she perceived him in that moment. 

When she took too long with her ogling, he grinned a knowing little grin and stepped forward. She couldn’t help but blush as he took her hand. Or maybe she had already been blushing, and now she was just blushing even harder. Oh, stars.

“Your Majesty.” He dropped to one knee with a smoothness that suggested practice (but the way he wobbled briefly when he landed suggested he still needed more), kissing her knuckles. His crown sat in place of his usual cap, a smaller replica of Peach’s; the garnets and pastel sapphires set into its band caught the light of the setting sun just so, sparkling in a way that seemed almost ethereal.

Are you trying to kill me? she wanted to ask. Glancing up, she saw Toad in the gazebo a few steps away, his own attire traded for a black vest and bowtie. He offered her an eager thumbs-up.

“Look at you,” she said instead. She meant to follow up with “You look handsome,” but Mario’s eyes met hers, shining with satisfaction and reverence, and her voice stuck in her throat.

He could fill in the blanks. He knew exactly what this was doing to her.

Pushing back up to his feet, Mario led her forward, her hand still in his grasp. “I don’t know about you,” he said, a joyful lilt in his tone, “but I’m starving! Shall we?”

She only nodded, because she couldn’t trust herself with an honest response.

Thankfully, Mario was merciful enough to carry their conversation in full until she overcame her stupefaction. He wasn’t trying for full formality. In spite of his attire, the mood was relaxed, and it loosened further when Toad produced a bottle of Yoshi Berry wine from the kitchens inside. In short order they laughed and joked together as they always did, and for that Peach was grateful.

Toad stationed himself in one corner of the gazebo and filled the air with the warm tones of a viola (she hadn’t even known he could play the viola, an instrument almost as large as he was, but that was beside the point). In the lulls between topics, Mario would swirl the liquid in his glass and smile at her, the sort of smile one might expect to find on the face of a lovesick schoolboy. The sapphires in his crown couldn’t compare to the deep, denim blue of his eyes.

None of this felt real. Peach was certain she was dreaming, or that perhaps she was living in a children’s picture book, the obligatory kindly queen and her beloved, benevolent king.

But this was in fact reality, and as the haze of romanticism ran its course, she could see the signs more and more clearly.

Mario shifted frequently, tugged at the high collar of his tunic, fiddled with the buttons. Reached up to make sure his crown wasn’t sliding off, reached down to ensure his pant legs were still securely tucked into his boots. As they chatted and nursed their wine, he absently flicked at the tassels on his shoulders; he’d catch himself doing it, stop, and then start back up again as soon as he wasn’t thinking about it.

When their food finally arrived, he dug right in with something that sounded like a sigh of relief. It wasn’t just hunger, Peach recognized. He was grateful for another distraction.

He was uncomfortable. The clothes that made him look so regal in turn made him feel horribly out of place. The realization didn’t really surprise her; she had come to his first fitting for moral support, and while he had done his best not to complain as the seamstress made her measurements, his face betrayed his agony. More than once, his eyes met hers, and he mouthed an over-the-top “Help me.”

“I didn’t think becoming a royal consort meant I’d actually have to dress like one,” he had joked that night, pulling on the softest and most worn, ragged night clothes he owned. Peach had just giggled.

Guilt gnawed at the pit of her stomach. She had reacted so strongly to this new addition to his wardrobe, and judging from the look in his eyes, he had known she would. The regalia he would have to wear at least once a week as part of his new duties, maybe more, and there was no helping that. But tonight, he was putting himself through needless misery just for her sake.

She tried not to think too hard about it as she ate. Leaving her food untouched would be terribly rude.

At the completion of their meal, Peach rose from her seat and stretched her back, and Mario came around the table to offer his arm to her. “Walk with me?” he asked. She could hear no hint of an ulterior motive in his offer, nothing but a sincere wish to extend their evening. He would happily endure his discomfort just to spend more time with her. The thought brought her as much joy as it did sadness.

She took his hand instead, eyeing his gloves. She hadn’t noticed they were different. Instead of leather, dented and scuffed from constant use, these were silk.

“Wouldn’t you rather get out of that stuffy outfit?” she offered in return. She could see him in his regalia every single day and never find it any less attractive, and even now she fought the urge to accept his offer and enjoy the sight that much longer. But she couldn’t bear to indulge her own desires at the expense of his comfort.

Mario’s face twisted with surprise at her words. She didn’t even hear Toad as he left them to talk, his voice straining with suppressed laughter — “C’mon, at least let a Toad get outta earshot first!”

“You don’t like it?” Mario asked. His eyes flicked down and over himself, as though inspecting for some sort of flaw in the fabric, a missing button, a stain, but Peach put her free hand to his cheek, commanding his attention once more.

“I think it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen,” she confessed. “But you looked like you were seconds from tearing it off and clawing into your skin all night.”

“Oh.” Mario’s cheek warmed beneath her palm, and he gave her a sheepish smile. “Well… you know. Not exactly the kind of outfit I’d wear lounging around, yeah? But!” He plucked her hand from his face and brought it to join her opposite hand, cradling them both in his own much larger grasp. “I’ve gotta get used to it anyway, right? The sooner I start, the better!”

“You don’t have to torture yourself for my sake, darling.”

“Torture? No no no, tesoro mio, you misunderstand,” he said, and that smile became all at once confident and tender. “Seeing your face light up like a big Fire Flower? The way you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me? I’m a little selfish, you know. Learning to put up with this dumb thing is a lot easier when you’re making me feel like a hunk.”

Peach laughed at that, overcome with relief and affection all at once. “You are a hunk,” she said, bending to press a kiss to his cheek. He tilted his face to return the favor, and she giggled again at the way his mustache tickled her skin.

“And you’re the most beautiful princess in the whole world,” he murmured against her. “Sorry— queen.”

“Your queen.”

“My queen,” he agreed. He chuckled and pressed another kiss to the corner of her lips before pulling back, and Peach followed suit. She noted with another gentle wave of relief that he didn’t look nearly so uncomfortable right now.

“In that case,” she said, “why don’t we take that walk?” Mario squeezed her hands one final time before dropping them to offer his arm once more. If this was his preferred method of breaking in a necessary evil, she would gladly assist.

“For what it’s worth,” she continued as he led her out of the gazebo, “I think you’re a hunk no matter what you wear.”

“So if this one sits in the closet for our next date?” 

“Actually, I was thinking we could have pizza and ice cream in our pajamas instead.”

“Oh, yes, please. Same time next week?”

“Why not tomorrow?”

“Mamma mia,” Mario laughed as they walked into the calm night, “and I keep thinking I can’t fall for you any harder!”

[heart-of-gotham]

🍽: Our characters’ orders are mixed up at a restaurant and they’re given each other’s meals by mistake.

[ First meeting starter prompts! - ACCEPTING ]

Oh, well, this wasn't exactly what she would have ordered. In fact, it wasn't. Oh no.

"Miss, I—"

The waitress had already hurried away as fast as she could, her arms laden with about two other tables worth of orders and another three up and ready in the window. She heaved a sigh.

Well, that was not going to do her any good then, was it? Not like she could help it, the poor girl was already in a state-and-half rushing back and forth during lunch rush. She'd been there. She was already dearly tired from her own big rush of patients back at the clinic, the cold wet weather lingering around had left too many people victim to catching (and ignoring) bad colds. So she did the next best thing: cut out the middleman and look around for any similarly confused patrons staring at a very incorrect order of her carrot ginger soup. Hopefully untouched.

Thankfully, she saw only one other person who had said soup placed in front of them. With a weary sigh— she really did just want to have lunch, and she was not wanting to barge into a strangers', but it was what it was— she carefully slipped her hand under the plate as to not touch the food, just on the off-chance they were willing to make an easy trade.

"Pardon me, you didn't happen to order this, did you?"

[beauteiridescente]

How manifesting really works

The Restaurant Analogy🍽

There’s 3 steps to manifesting a desire, right?

Ask

Believe

Receive

Now imagine you go to the restaurant, you place your order, you wait for your order and finally your order is served and you can enjoy your plate.

In this analogy, the restaurant represents the universe, the waiter leaves, giving you the time you need to choose your desires from the menu. The menu is endless, it seems like the pages never end because you have endless options to choose from, you can have anything you desire in the universe. The time you are given to choose what you want from the menu is the time you would take to evaluate your options and envision them in your life. After considering your options, you make your choice and call the waiter back so they can take your order. This is the asking part, whether you use affirmations or scripting, this is where you decide what you want and place your order with the universe. Now the waiter takes your order and goes into the kitchen. You now know that your order has been placed and is being prepared specifically for you. At this point there is nothing further to do, you know full well that your order has been received, so of course what do you do? You wait patiently knowing your order is coming, you’re in the state of expecting your order, exactly the way you wanted it.

« Why is it taking so long? » « Why do I not see movement?”

Now you haven't seen the waiter walk into the kitchen with your order and the sous chef running to the basement to get something they ran out of or mistaking baking powder for baking soda and messing up the first batch of sauce, the waiters arguing over who ordered the a plate for their table first, or the oven going out for a few minutes, or the chef carefully designing chocolate hearts on your plate. All the situations delaying the preparation of your plate that is currently being crafted to perfection. Because the universe does not half-ass things it gives you exactly what you asked for.

*I used to work as a waitress, so this are very probable and real situations that happen while the staff is perfecting our client’s plates.

The waiter is now back with your plate and serves it to you. Do you know how your plate came about? No. Are you still ecstatic about the beautiful plate in front of you that you can’t wait to take a picture of and post in your story to show to your friends? Yes.

Bon appétit!🧑‍🍳🤌

[deanwasalwaysbi]

@caslighting  killing me with insights in the tags.  ‘Don’t do this, Cas,’  the very line that the community has collectively decided was edited out of order (x), was not in the original script that we've seen so far.  Unless there was more to this scene, this line was ad libbed by Jensen.  Why does that matter?

Jensen ad libbed the line from the very episode he directed, when it was a line said out of love. Jensen pours over the scripts of episodes he directs, and he had more time with this one than most. He knew exactly what that line meant and he added it. Slow clap for the jackles long con. 👏

Castiel and Dean’s fight - which was fresh during ‘Atomic Monsters’, was about [partially] Dean not asking Cas to stay, it was about Dean’s anger but in episode 9 ‘The Trap’, (written by Bobo the same writer,) Cas tells Dean - “I left, but you didn’t stop me.”  How many fics grace the dash that boil down to Dean asking him to stay? (surveys guilty tumblrverse).

In the right spot the line is a huge shift in their dynamic and a conclusion to a 12 year arc. Castiel has been struggling to learn self-worth. Castiel’s whole arc has been begging for a show of love - and tbh love from Dean. Placed after the ‘goodbye dean’, where it makes FAR much more sense and appears less edited than after the ‘I love you’, Dean is telling Cas, “don’t go. stay.  don’t do this, don't sacrifice yourself for me. please live.” It's "I would rather die than have you die for me." It's the ultimate "you are worth more to me than being useful." and it’s the closest thing we will get to a Dean Winchester romantic “I love you”, (apparently) and we only have it at all because it was added in, by Jensen or by someone else there on the day.

Placed after the ‘I love you’, the line shoves Dean Winchester back in the closet at the behest of the network, rejecting the love that Castiel has offered. It also makes no  sense as Castiel has already done every plot affecting thing he can possibly do.  He’s already said ‘I love you’ - he’s already summoned the Empty.  All decisions are made. 

Jensen ad libbed the line. ... 🍽 Glass.

15x04 vs. 15x18

The actor in question was being directed by one Jensen Ackles.

If you're missing context, the father in 15x04 was asking his son not to sacrifice himself for his parents and the greater good. Don't do this, don't die for us, please live.

Don't you DARE try to tell me Dean was telling Cas not to admit to loving him out of homophobia. He just wanted Cas to live.

I have a lot to say about this episode, and there is still more coming once I have time to collect my thoughts.