#anyways enjoy the bears

[koholintz]

they’re the family ever

[bugsinshoes]

BOOK OF BILL SPOLIERS UNDER THE CUT

fiddauthor nation i have (tried) to fix your photo.

i actually love them it hurts

[little-pup-pip]

Build-A-Bear Chococat!!

[juniper-clan]

Moon 18 Pt. 2: Bound

PREVIOUS l NEXT

[neunhofferart]

fave scene u boarded this season?

Okay, MAJOR SPOILERS for Jurassic World Chaos Theory Season 2 incoming haha. It's hard to pick just one, so here's a bunch:

Favorite scenes that made it to screen:

The sucho vs. hippo fight (Though sadly I didn't request this one for my demo real because most of the boards are not very pretty/had to be cleaned up by someone else due to time. These panels below are some of the few that look nice enough to show LOL. Originally in the script, there were TWO hippos we called Orson and Welles, but it was just too much going on in that little set, so the whole thing had to be reworked from scratch halfway through the boarding period. My director Mike Mullen and our revisionist Emma Gilles contributed a LOT to this sequence and made my hastily redone roughs actually legible for everyone, and added/refined more after I had to move on in the schedule)

Ben freaking out while everyone piles more and more problems on Yaz

Kenji fixing his dislocated arm while Darius gagged

Santos sending Red to kill Captain Lang (I have permission to share this one in full, but I need to format it because it's in pdf form).

Favorite scenes that were cut or significantly trimmed down:

Extended scene of Brooklynn feeding Gordon that introduced more of an idea of her having lingering PTSD around dinosaurs, while also highlighting more of the connection between her and Gordon sharing a limb difference. It was a more contemplative scene, but the episode hit 30 or 35 minutes in the initial cut and it could only be 22, so a LOT was cut in the Brooklynn episode (I also have permission to share all of this one, but again need to format it first)

Extended Kenji/Brooklynn break up scene- The first half is still there, which leads into what Rianna originally boarded in 104. A stupid detail I'm proud of- when Kenji leads Brooklynn up the mountain by hand, it's the last time anyone ever holds that hand (in that way). HOWEVER- there was originally a bit more past what Rianna did in 104 that showed how their dynamic/what they both wanted out of their relationship wasn't really in sync. Brooklynn tries to defend her actions to Kenji, but Kenji feels that her work has grown important to her than he is, and Brooklynn actually winds up being the person to say 'Fine, then let's break up!' Which I doubt she mentioned to Darius haha. Anyway, this was again cut because the episode was too dang long.

[carmenberzattosgf]

thigh riding with carmy hi yes hello so yeah and haha yea lol

OMG CRISTINA-

This. I think about this A LOT ( a lot more now thanks to the Calvin Klein ad-)

Like oh my goddd. Him in the office way after hours stressing out over paperwork that he’s put off for weeks now. You walk in ( for story purposes… you’re wearing skirt), and he’s still glued to the paper work so you start kissing on his neck and running your hands through his hair. He stops you… the first time. “Baby- I gotta finish this shit. Can you sit down and wait for a minute? I’ll be done soon and we can go home.”

And yeah. Sure. You go and sit down the in seat next to him, but only for like 5 minutes max. After that you gently lean in to whisper in his ear, knowing how to distract him. “Need you Carm. The paperwork can wait.” You then dip down to nibble at his collarbone. His hand is knuckle white around the pen he’s holding.

“Can’t be a good girl for 5 minutes can you? Fucking hell- fine. Sit on my thigh.” Oh you practically jump into his lap. Your skirt bunches around your hips when you try and straddle his waist in the chair. He stops you, though before you can wrap your legs around him. “No. My thigh. You’re going to get yourself off on my thigh while I sit here and finish this paperwork. Then maybe, maybe, I’ll fuck you when we get home. Got it?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.” So with a reddened face you straddle one of his thighs. Your skirt bunches so that your soaked underwear makes contact with the rough denim he’s wearing. You gasp at the contact, lighting starting to grind your hips.

You get desperate real fucking quick, speeding up your movements and chasing your orgasm. Carmy loses focus on his paperwork the moment he feels you start to soak through his jeans. From then on, his watching you intently as your hips move. “Atta girl, just like that.” He praises.

He can’t take his eyes off of you. Your cheeks flush and embarrassment at the situation overwhelms you; you needed him so bad that his thigh was good enough for you. You hide your face in his neck to escape his gaze and muffle your moans. It feels so good- god he feels so good. Your hips speed up as you begin to lose your self in pleasure.

That doesn’t last long. Carmy’s hand grips the hair on the nape of your neck to move your head so that your eyes meet his once again. “Keep those pretty eyes on me. Wanna see the look on your face when you come for me.”

You’re close. So unbelievably close. His hands are on your hips, assisting in your movements. “Come on baby. I’ve got you. So fucking pretty falling apart on me like this-“ and with that last bit of praise you come, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. “Good job. Such a good girl for me. Now can you sit there and be patient while I finish this?”

You lean into him, nodding into his neck in response. In all honesty you fall asleep on his shoulder while he finishes up, and like the sweet boyfriend he is, he carries you back to the car to take you home <3

[butchcarmy]

the jaw all white outfit from the sags… so many weddingday!carmy thots…

UGH he looked so good in the all white!! Those pics of him got me thinkin about taking the clothes off of him…although he's putting the clothes on in those imgs… let's just pretend…

Tags: suggestive, wedding night, telling carmy he’s pretty, undressing him

“You looked so handsome today,” you tell him when you're alone. It's the two of you in your bedroom after the wedding, still dressed in your formal attire. His suit remained fairly pristine throughout everything, especially given how you couldn't get your hands off him. To be fair, he wasn't much better in that regard.

“You were more beautiful,” he replies quietly. He pulls you in, hands gentle on your waist. “I still can't believe it.”

“What, that we're married?” You run your hands down the white lapels of his suit.

“Well, that’s one way to put it. I just…still can't believe that I got to marry you.” He's smiling again, like he's been doing all day. “Didn't feel real until I saw you walking down the aisle.”

“Didn't feel real through all the planning?” You tease, and he sighs. The planning was a huge source of stress, even through all the joy that came with it. “I know what you mean, though. Seeing you in this suit, I just…”

“Liked seeing me dressed up, huh?”

“Yes,” you whisper, carefully unbuttoning his jacket. “Couldn't stop thinking about taking it off of you.”

You kiss him on the lips, slow and sweet. He tastes faintly of the wine you both had earlier at dinner. You kiss his cheek, his jaw, and he tilts his head back when you trail your lips down his neck. Your hands gently take his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms.

“You’re so pretty, Carmy,” you continue softly, your fingers unbuttoning his shirt now. He chuckles, likely in equal parts affection and bashfulness. “So, so pretty.”

“You think I’m pretty?” His cheeks are flushed by your praise. You’ve undone the last button, creating a sliver of bare skin down the front of him. You slide your hands under his shirt to gingerly take it off of him.

“Oh my god, yeah. You’re gorgeous. I swear I’ve told you this before, baby.” You’ve slipped his shirt off, and now he stands before you bare chested. You openly rake your eyes over his figure, running your hands over his warm skin. You start at his happy trail, go up his toned stomach, and smooth your thumb over the faded triangle tattoo on his chest.

“You have, I just…” Your thumb runs over his nipple, stiffening it, and he inhales sharply. “I, um, have never been called pretty before…I think.”

“What?” You gasp, aghast. How could you have missed this? Have you really never called him pretty before? “Well, clearly I need to tell you more often. Because you are. You’re my pretty boy, and I get to have you all for myself.”

“Mm, I’m all yours, beautiful,” he murmurs back, pulling you into a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you so much. So, so much.”

“I love you too, Carm,” you say, your chest full of affection. “I’m so happy you’re mine.”

“And I’m so happy that you’re mine.” He surprises you then, sweeping you off your feet and throwing you onto the bed. He’s peppering your face in kisses, and you can’t help your giddy laughter. “Let me show you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

“I like the sound of that,” you reply, somewhat breathless. Carmy just smiles, and he starts taking off your clothes. He’s not gonna take it easy on you tonight.

[indywasdeepfried]

How I imagine Arcane season 2 will be for Jayce and Vik

[shalomniscient]

ALL I SEE IS RED LIGHTS || rahu x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Control. This was the singular order that woman gave her before getting herself locked away by Paradeisos. Always, always remain in control. But there was a limit to just how much control Rahu could exert over herself before she needed an outlet. And as it just so happens, her most willing (and favourite!) one happens to be you. Or, Rahu comes back to the MBCC pent up and frustrated from her time in Paradeisos. To relax, she fucks you silly in the Archives.

cw. [NSFT][MDNI] rahu has a dick in this one (she also tops for once), rough sex, handjobs, degradation (whore, slut), breeding, choking, biting, belly bulge, semi-public sex, dacryphilia, discussion of anal, creampie

notes. god forgive me

wc. 3k

Being the Chief of the MBCC is a difficult, difficult job. There’s dealing with shitty higher ups, placating manic Sinners, stopping city-destroying threats, and worst of all, paperwork. Mountains and mountains of dreaded paperwork. There’s so much of the damn stuff it makes your brain numb–and not in the fun way. More often than not, you end up just waiting for something exciting to happen. 

Speaking of exciting, you glance at the clock on the wall as you sort the files in the Archives. It’s thirty minutes to five, and you’d be off the clock soon. Rahu should be arriving back from Paradeisos any minute now–

“Chief?”

Your lips twitch upwards in a wry smile at the sound of that familiar voice. Speak of the devil, indeed. “I’m in the Archives,” you call back to Rahu. You hear footsteps echo in your office, stopping just short of the heavy Archives door. 

“Are you alone in here?”

There’s an undercurrent of tension in her voice, but you brush it off in favour of focusing on the wall of files before you. You slot another file back into its place on the shelf and nod. “Yeah, it’s just me.” 

You’re entirely too preoccupied with your filing to notice Rahu striding towards you until a firm hand is gripping your waist, forcefully spinning you around to face her. You squeak in surprise as Rahu presses herself bodily against you, until you’re sandwiched between the shelf and Rahu’s firm, warm body. Your brows knit in confusion as you stare up at her, noting the stormy look in her silver eyes. 

“Is something wro—“ you ask, only to be cut off when Rahu discards her mask with a flick of her fingers and crashes her lips against yours in a bruising, claiming kiss. Rahu swallows any sound you make with her lips, her tongue forcing its way into your mouth greedily. She kisses you so forcefully it’s like she’s trying to draw your very life from your lips. Her teeth scrape your bottom lip before she pulls away, leaving you flushed and breathless. 

She doesn’t stop, though. She presses more burning kisses along your jaw and over what little exposed skin there is of your neck, growling as her teeth ghost over the thin fabric of your undershirt. Your arms loop around her broad shoulders as you pant and sigh in pleasure, feeling almost unbearably warm. But you retain enough brain function to at least try and ask her what she’s doing. 

“Need you,” is all she says, her voice low as she moves up to kiss you again. The request doesn’t surprise you–in fact, you had an arrangement with Rahu. Every few months, when Paradeisos loosens their leash, she’ll visit you and the Bureau. During these visits, she’ll update you on whatever new intelligence she’s managed to glean from the secretive Paradeisians, which is followed by the filthiest, raunchiest fucking as a way for both of you to de-stress. Of course, normally, you’d at least get to your chill-out room for some privacy, but not today, apparently. As if noticing the way your thoughts are straying, she takes your lower lip between her teeth and bites, making you whimper and squirm, the stinging pain surprisingly pleasurable. 

“H-here?” you manage to gasp out between the kisses Rahu steals from you. This side of Rahu is entirely new to you–and fuck if it isn’t hot. “Now?” 

Rahu leans bodily against you, her free arm bracing her on the shelf, caging you in. This close to her, you feel something poke at your inner thigh through your slacks, and you suck in a breath. You know Rahu and her pretty cock well enough to tell that she’s already at full mast and probably leaking into her boxers. The thought makes you shiver. 

“What if someone walks in?” you ask, resisting the urge to moan as Rahu rolls her hips against yours. 

“Locked the door already,” she says simply, the hand on your waist already moving forward to toy with the buttons of your shirt. The fact that she hasn’t ripped it off you yet means she’s giving you a choice—she would take you right here and right now, but only if you want. 

And despite yourself, despite the risks, you’ve never wanted something more in your entire life. 

“Okay,” you breathe out, sliding your hands on Rahu’s shoulders down lower and lower until you reach the buckle of her pants. Her pupils dilate and she makes a low, feral sound, watching as your hands unbuckle her pants, then slip past the waistband of her boxers to finally pull her aching cock free. 

It slaps against her toned stomach, leaking pre-cum like a fucking faucet and your mouth waters. Slowly, you swipe your thumb over the swollen tip, spreading her sticky pre-cum around. It coats your hand, slick and warm, and Rahu groans as you slide your hand down her shaft. You fall into a languid rhythm, obediently pumping her cock, intermittently moving up to the tip to collect more beads of pre-cum. Rahu pants lightly against your ear with each slick pump of your hand up and down her cock. When you squeeze lightly, Rahu’s breath hitches and she twitches in your grasp—she’s already close. 

You move to sink to your knees, to let her finish in your throat, but Rahu grabs you by the shoulders before you can get all the way down. Before you can even ask her anything, she spins you around and forces your front against the shelf, your cheek pressed against the files you just arranged. The sudden display of force makes your traitorous cunt clench, and you feel a surge of wetness drip into your panties. 

Rahu stands flush against you as her hand shoots down to unbuckle your slacks, while the other deftly undoes the buttons of your shirt. The presence of your undershirt makes her snarl against your nape and you whine when she rips it off, the fabric now hanging in tatters from where it’s tucked into your slacks. But even those are soon gone, leaving you in nothing but your underwear, and your shirt that hangs limply off your arms. The position is unbelievably compromising, but it makes your core throb. 

“Going to take your pretty pussy,” Rahu hums against your nape, ever so briefly biting down on the sensitive skin and leaving the imprint of her teeth there. She slots her cock between your thighs, moving her hips lazily, smearing pre-cum all over the soft flesh. When you look down, you can see her tip peek out with each thrust, and you whine, pushing your ass backwards against her, the need in your lower belly starting to make you lose it. 

Rahu makes a noise almost like a sneer, and trails a hand along your clothed cunt. She brushes your clit through the soaked fabric and scoffs as you moan, light and breathy. “So wet already,” she says, slipping her hand past the waistband of your panties and dragging a sinfully long finger along your cunt, from your hole to your clit. “Dripping like a whore and I haven’t even done anything yet.” 

The filth that leaves her lips makes a strangled moan leave yours. “Rahu, please, please, I need—“

Your pleas are cut off when a firm hand connects with your ass, the slap echoing in the room. You practically squeal, both in surprise and pleasure, your body jolting forward from the sheer force of it. Rahu gropes your ass shamelessly, taking handfuls of flesh into her large hand and squeezing before relentlessly raining more and more slaps on your ass until it’s the same flushed shade of red as your face. 

“You like that, don’t you? I can feel you get wetter on my fingers,” Rahu growls, briefly curling her fingers, the pads catching on your aching, needy clit. But then her fingers move backwards, and her thumb brushes against your ass. “You’re dripping so fucking much, Chief… at this rate, you’d be wet enough for me to take this hole too.” 

Another broken moan leaves you as the thought of Rahu fucking your ass makes your knees quiver. Rahu snickers behind you, but doesn’t go through with it. As much as she’d love to, taking your ass would really take more prep and she needed you now. Instead, she angles her hips, and slots a leg between yours, nudging you to spread your own a little wider. Rahu tugs your panties aside, strings of your own slick clinging to the ruined fabric, and then she hilts deep inside of you in one smooth motion. 

If it weren’t for Rahu’s hand that shot up to cover your mouth just in time, the scream you let out would’ve certainly alerted the entire MBCC. Stars danced behind your eyes at the sudden, immense fullness, your cunt fluttering. She’s so fucking deep in you, her tip ever so slightly brushing your g-spot as it rests in you. Rahu swears against your shoulder, her other hand bracing herself on the shelf. 

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight,” she says, giving an experimental roll of her hips that has you whining into her palm. She barely gives you any time to adjust to her size, immediately starting to pound away inside you. She fucks you with a brutal, animalistic pace, bullying your cervix and going balls deep with each thrust. The squelching sounds ring throughout the room, accompanied by the slapping of skin on skin. At the rate she was going, it was no surprise that your peak was almost upon you already. “F-fuck, you’re squeezing me so tightly, Chief…” 

Rahu still hadn’t moved her palm from your mouth, so all you could do was whimper pitifully as you felt your climax build in your belly. But she seemed to get the hint, the hand bracing herself on the shelf moving down to toy with your swollen clit. 

“Gonna cum already? Gonna make a mess on my cock?” Rahu breathes against your ear. You nod desperately, your pussy clenching with each powerful thrust. You’re so, so, so close—

“Chief? Are you in here?”

Nightingale’s voice makes you both freeze. You don’t know if you want to sob at the loss of your orgasm or the fact that Nightingale was about to catch Rahu balls deep in you in the Archive. Rahu’s hand drops from your mouth, settling on your throat instead. 

“Chief?” Nightingale calls again, knocking on the door. “Is everything alright?” 

“You should answer her,” Rahu says, but makes no move to pull out. Pulling yourself together, you do your best to sound like you weren’t just having your brains fucked out. 

“Yes, I’m in the Archives, adjutant. I’m alright,” you call back to her. Your voice is, thankfully, somewhat even, though you do sound a little breathless. 

“Are you sure?” Nightingale’s tone is worried. “You’ve been in there for a while…”

You smile. Nightingale may seem like a hard-ass sometimes, but that was only because she cared. “I’m sure, adjutant. I’m just—mmhm!”

Whatever you were about to say was cut off by Rahu suddenly thrusting up into you. Her cock presses right on your g-spot, but you somehow manage to smother your moan with a cough and glare over your shoulder at the sinner, who just smirks in response. She thrusts again, another sinful roll of her hips, and you press a hand against your mouth to stifle more of your moans. 

“Chief?” 

You shoot a glance at Rahu, but she doesn’t stop. No, she wants you to keep talking to Nightingale—all while she fucks you. The thought shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, but your cunt gushes around Rahu’s cock, and she grins victoriously. 

“Sorry, I’m just—mmff—having a bit of a migraine,” you lie, gritting your teeth as Rahu languidly fucks into you. Her other hand resumes playing with your clit and you cover your whine with another cough. 

“Oh… are you sure you’re alright? Should I get you some painkillers?” Nightingale asks, still worried, and hopefully unaware. 

“N-no, I’m fine, adjutant,” you gasp out. “J-just need some—mm!—time alone.” 

“If you’re certain,” Nightingale sighs, though she sounds unconvinced. “I’ll leave these papers on your desk for when you feel better.”

“Thanks, adjutant.” 

Finally, Nightingale’s steps recede, and you slump against the shelf, feeling boneless. The only thing holding you up right now was Rahu’s dick buried inside you, honestly. An amused smile tugs at the sinner’s pretty features. “You were clenching on me the whole time,” she says lowly, scraping her teeth along the shell of your ear. “Did that excite you? Almost getting caught bent over for one of your sinners?”

“Fuck, Rahu, please,” you beg, the need in your core almost painful now. “Please just fuck me, please, please.” 

Rahu snarls, and the hand around your throat tightens. Then she’s fucking into you, resuming her brutal pace from before. Your breath is forced out of you with each ruthless rut of her hips, coming out in pinched wheezes as Rahu squeezes your neck–not enough to completely cut off your air, but just enough to certainly make you feel it. Her other hand leaves your clit to splay across your belly, her touch like fire on your already heated skin. Then she’s pressing down, right over the bulge her cock forms as it’s nestled deep in your cunt. 

“Can you feel that, Chief?” Rahu breathes, “the outline of my cock inside you? Filling this cute cunt up?” 

Your eyes flick down, and though the angle makes it difficult, you can see the slight ridge on your abdomen—and that’s all it takes for you to cream all over Rahu’s dick, eyes rolling back into your head. Rahu grunts as she feels you suddenly bear down on her, thrusting jerkily up into you while the hand around your throat tightens, stifling the cute, pitiful whines you make. She wasn’t expecting you to cum so quickly, but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around her is so downright heavenly she isn’t complaining at all. She’s getting closer and closer to her own peak, the hard muscles in her abs tightening. Her rutting reaches a fever pitch as she chases her high, uncaring of the way you’ve started to squirm on her cock from overstimulation.

“Just a little more,” she gasps out, burying her face in your shoulder, blunt teeth teasing your skin. “Just a little more, taking me so well, such a good little slut for me–”

The hand on your belly moved back to toy with your clit, harsh flicks that makes each nerve in your body jolt. Your mind feels like it’s breaking in half as Rahu uses your body for her own pleasure, your world narrowing down to the neediness between your legs. You’d barely come off the heels of your first orgasm and you were already starting to careen headfirst into the second. Your brain had long dripped out of your pussy as Rahu fucks herself deeper into you, her thrusts starting to get choppy and uneven until–

Rahu’s teeth sink deep into your shoulder and she hilts as deep as she can go, her tip smushed against the tight ring of your cervix as she spills hot cum deep into you with a growl. Your lips part in a soundless wail as you cum again on her cock, creating a white, frothy ring around the base of it. Rahu keeps driving her hips as she floods your cunt with white, as if she’s trying to fuck her cum right into your womb. 

The intensity of it all must’ve made you black out, because when you come back down to Earth, Rahu’s already slipping out of your abused cunt with a loud squelch. The drag of her softening cock as it retreats from you makes you shiver nonetheless–and you both groan as your mixed cum starts to leak from your hole and down your thighs. Globs of it, thick and creamy, spill from your gaping pussy and you shudder against the shelf, bracing yourself completely on it. Your hips jerk as Rahu’s fingers reach out to tug your drenched panties back into place, ensuring whatever remaining cum left in your pussy stays there. She even affectionately pats your cunt, which makes you whine, but Rahu makes it up to you by turning your head to gently kiss you. 

When she pulls back, there’s a mildly guilty look on her face as she takes in your disheveled state. “Sorry… about that.” 

You mumble out an incoherent answer, your thoughts still scattered around in your skull. Rahu tucks herself back into her slacks, then takes the initiative to help clean you up, gently turning you around so your back is resting against the shelf. She helps you back into your own pants, and buttons your shirt up as best she can, glancing apologetically as you shift uncomfortably. 

“Let me help you get back to your quarters,” Rahu offers, standing by your side as you shuffle out of the Archives, squeezing your thighs together. You nod, moving to grab your coat from where it hangs on your chair, resting it on your shoulders and letting it drape over your body. But before Rahu can lead the way out of your office, you wrap your fingers around her wrist and tug her back towards you. She stumbles in surprise, and you take the opportunity to pull her down by her tie so that she’s face-to-face with you. 

“I hope you know what’s waiting for you, puppy,” you say softly, your voice a low, sultry promise despite the hoarseness of it. Rahu’s pupils dilate, and you see the way her throat bobs. “Bad dogs should be disciplined, right?” 

(Once you get back to your quarters, you push Rahu onto her back and ride her until she’s shooting blanks and crying so prettily beneath you. So all in all, you’d say it was pretty worth it—even if you had to endure the knowing, disappointed look Nightingale will give you when you step into the office the next morning.)

[kelocitta]

There is currently a rather large discussion ongoing about the RW fandom behavior, drama, etc. I am not going to talk about the specifics of whats happened for a number of reasons. But what I do want to say is that if at any point you've harassed people over it, whether that be through anon asks or public posts- you did nothing but damage the ability for people to correctly process what is happening. You contributed nothing but harm to an already delicate situation. It does not matter what "side" you were on and I will not tolerate further interaction with me or my work if I found out you did such. If you let your personal hate for anyone boil over into threats, wishes for long term harm and petty comments meant to contribute nothing but slander or mental distress for the individuals involved who were already distressed (or acting irrationally) you did nothing but make it harder for people to process their emotions, thoughts and behaviors constructively. Regardless of who you think was in the right, who fucked up, whatever. It doesn't matter if they deserved it, or earned it, or if its an eye for an eye. Its difficult enough as it is to think clearly when presented with any kind of stressful situation and heckling people does nothing but make it worse and harder for them to explain themself in any capacity. I don't want you anywhere near me if you think that is an acceptable way to act.

[corvcall]

hes an official bears in trees member now :)

[little-pup-pip]

Cherry Blossoms!!

[answer2jeff]

Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

[andyridgeley]

carmy berzatto + text post meme

[flavia8]

You know. Something I really hate about a lot of popular fantasy books, and it's especially prevalent in Romantasy, is what passes for Feminism in them. It's a toothless fake, used as an aesthetic/seasoning. A sprinkle of *strong female character* and a dash of deceptively misogynistic everything else, and for the finishing touch a pinch of man who's slightly better than being openly sexist and Boom. Fantasy series led by a FMC.

Generally, the Female Main character either starts out or becomes incredibly powerful, but always, always, always her power is linked to the men around her. She supposedly has agency and makes her own choices but the choices she makes are between choices provided to her by men. Her male love interest is more powerful in SOME way, and ends up besting her in some way. Experience, training, power, there's always some way the man is better than her. Female characters are never allowed to just BE powerful. Or even just BE single. Often they give up their powers, or are forcibly stripped of them. They look down on other female characters for doing "feminine" work. And, they're stupid as hell to supposedly make them relatable or endearing. Often, the male mc is concerningly abusive but it's portrayed as dreamy, romantic and Ideal. (I genuinely get the love for villains, and enemies to not, and the love for morally grey characters, I genuinely do, but this isn't that, what happens in these books is just genuinely bad (if they actually were people) being portrayed through rose colored glasses) [And in some stories that could be genuinely interesting!] If there's a second Love Interest, he will just do the same awful shit to the MC but it's better now bc it's him.

If the female character isn't white, all of this + a staggering amount of racism. They're rarely MCs. They're fridged for the MCs, they serve the MCs, they're never as beautiful or powerful as the MC, they're stereotyped and portrayed as savage, vapid, comically evil, or just as a good guy with no character at all.

These books are presented as feminist and it pisses me off. Feminism is equality for all, and the fight for Women to be equal and have their own agency. To make their own decisions. Genuinely I believe writers should be able to write whatever they want. I have no issues with having "problematic" stuff in books. My issue is when people start to believe that this shit is feminist, and the author is so skilled and amazing, and it's a masterpiece! Fuck that.

[komashkathesilly]

my plushies but theyre silly poly furries