#don't mind the horrendous editing

[sugwinni]

Excuse me? 🤨

[soubiapologist]

going viral in the loveless fandom with my first post, nice

[yan-randomfandom]

Hiii baby! Can I request Jinx, Cait and if you do Maddie (all separately) w/ a gf who is dose very crafty/homemade makeovers?

Hear me out- why spend money on a cut & color, new piercing, nails ect when your hg can do it for you herself?? (I just grew up poor and had to learn😭😭)

Jinx, Caitlyn, & Maddie with a crafty girlfriend headcanons!!

a/n: omg its so nice that you rose up & learned em😭 such a fun request! this one is written before act 3

I didn't proofread or edit so please feel free to point out anything that's bothering you 😭

also this might be ooc.... im so sorry if it is😔

Let's go and start with ...

🌀

Jinx

Jinx has an established style with her neon painted nails, twin braids, inventions, and everything in her possession. An endearing fashion sense, even if some think it looks ridiculous lmaooo

With Jinx being an artisan and artist herself, you both find being creative a common ground in your relationship!

Makeovers anytime, anywhere. No need to find professionals when you have your girlfriend right here! It's a give and take relationship for sure. I imagine it'd be so fun and full of laughs 😩

Also I think you guys will inspire each other back and forth lolol

Having an art block and you don't like it? Ask the other for help!

And if you're both having art blocks? Well, Jinx will take you out on vastly different spots until you find what you're looking for. It's a great way to bond, and sightseeing is nice (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

When you're exploring new styles, and you aren't doing it on Jinx, she would love to simply watch you work. It has some sort of calming effect on her, especially if you're rambling while doing it.

If she sees something of your art that she likes, she might just copy you in her style! Kind of like how Jinx did that makeup when she was in Vi's apartment or something

Although don't be surprised if you wake up and see your face horrendously painted in the morning 😔

You can't even revenge because she sleeps with one eye open, I fear

☄️

Caitlyn

MAN. I feel like you'd have to beg Caitlyn for even the simplest makeovers. She looks so plain rn (in the style way) or am I just blind 😭

You suppose it makes sense. She looks so perfect and you keep giving compliments. Like, why is she so pretty?? There's just so many possibilities you can do with her appearance!!

But, sadly, she doesn't let you give her makeovers much. Not that she doesn't like your work, she respects it and adores it, but arts isn't exactly her thing.

I think make-up of any kind would probably feel uncomfortable for her. Plus it would be a hassle to remove it, she would say.

What you can do is give her hair a trim. A perfect line, as much as possible. She comes to you when her hair feels longer, or more damaged, than usual. Granted, it can be boring, but you're just glad you're doing something for her.

Another thing is that you can choose outfits for her. You can doll her up anytime as long as you don't take too long picking combinations!

If she has time, she'll probably let you paint her nails. Make sure she doesn't regret it, or else she might never let you again.

She'd buy anything you want, by the way. Money isn't a problem for her. So you technically have unlimited supplies, thank goodness, 'cause sometimes they can be so expensive.

You jokingly tell her that even if you break up, if she ever changes her mind about getting something, she'll come to you. Absolute dibs on Caitlyn!!

🍯

Maddie

I feel like Maddie has never really delved into bodily artworks, since she spent most of her time studying about laws and stuff.

Like,, do we agree on the motion that she cut her hair so she doesn't have to deal with it 😭 Less weight during missions too

So when her amazing girlfriend happens to be passionate about creatives? Oh, boy, she's going to be filled with curiosity.

She'll allow you to do anything you want to her, as long as it isn't permanent. In fact, she's super enthusiastic about it, always trusting the process and seeing the result.

You're so creative that it's impressive!! Even if it isn't your best work, she always finds a way to praise you 😭

She'd love to watch you work as well, but she's not exactly the quiet type 🥲

Expect a whole bunch of questions. "What's that for?" "Why are you putting that?" "Ooh, that technique looks complicated. How—"

One of your quality time is definitely you trying to teach her new things. Let her paint your nails, do your hair, and anything that can make you both happy.

If you make clips or whatnot, you definitely try to overload her fluffy hair with decoration. You try different hairstyles possible with that length of hers.

Sometimes, you catch her playing around with your make-up alone. It almost always ends with you fixing it up for her 😭

you, showing your new haircut (it looks horrible): yoooo isn't this so skibidi

jinx: hell yeah

caitlyn: you are not going out like that. go get your unnecessary amount of hair extensions and choose from there

maddie: hell yeah

[hyperactively-me]

black tie affair

He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close.

"oh nooooo the zipper on my dress is stuck, what ever will i do? who would ever help meee?"

zipper is stuck trope. with ghost. lol bye.

also, don’t mind me making stuff up for this fic. don't think too hard about it. let's just pretend!

(asks are open)

happy reading

EDIT: PART 2 OUT NOW

warnings: none

Tonight was the Special Forces Military Ball. It was a once-a-year event that everyone on the task force looked forward to as an opportunity to unwind from work. A night of speeches, dancing, and drinking was highly awaited. 

You were in a hotel room, finishing applying your makeup in the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. The lighting was horrendous, but you persevered. You gently brush on the last touches of your eyeshadow, blinking a few times at your reflection in the mirror. You tilt your face side to side, inspecting every inch of your makeup before pulling back, smiling contentedly at your work. It’s been a while since you last wore this much makeup. A quick sigh escapes your lips as you turn out of the bathroom and into the main room. 

A long, black dress lays across the hotel bed. The dress swishes gently across the floor as you pick it up from the bed and hold it up in front of you in front of the floor length mirror. The sweetheart neckline swoops gracefully, the thick straps of the dress adorned with small silver gems. The skirt of the dress hugs all of your curves in the right places, accentuating your features. 

You start to slip on the dress, pulling it up and around your body, then pulling the sleeves over to rest on your shoulders. Reaching around your back, your hands come up as you fumble around with the zipper, only pulling it up an inch before it stops.

You try pulling it as hard as you can to no avail. Messing with the zipper a few more times does absolutely nothing, the continuous motion of pulling it up and down useless in aiding you. The zipper rests, stuck, on your lower back. 

“Fuck” you groan, annoyed with the stubborn zipper.

You angle your back towards the mirror and stare at it, mostly bare, with a frown. Someone was going to have to help you with this. 

Everyone, with the exception of one person, was busy preparing for the event as you racked your brain about who you could call. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

The big guy. 

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts before your finger lands on his name. You hesitate for a moment, almost already regretting this. Next thing you know, you bring the phone up to your ear, biting your lip as it rings. The phone rings once, twice, then you hear the line pick up. 

“Hello?�� the low timbre of his voice echoes from the phone. 

You inhale dramatically, and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“Hi,” you sigh. 

The silence from the other end is overbearing. You grimace a little. 

You speak quickly, “So uh, I need some help.” You hold your breath as you wait for a response, any response from him. 

You hear some shuffling around, and a small cough. You roll your eyes once more. 

“Please,” you strain. 

He hesitates for a moment. “What’s wrong?” 

“This is awkward, but uh, the zipper on my dress is stuck, and you’re the only person I could think of to call and I totally get it if you can’t help me–”

“Which room is yours?” he cuts you off briskly. The shuffling in the background abruptly stopped. 

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, shaking your head as you try to answer.

“Oh, yeah, it’s room 456, fourth floor…” you trail off. 

He hangs up without a word. You bring the phone away from your ear slowly and stare at yourself in the mirror once more. 

He really is a man of few words. 

You pace the room a few times, waiting for him when a single, brief knock raps your door. You stop in your tracks and turn to the door, then run to the mirror to make sure you look presentable enough. You look through the peekhole just to make sure its Ghost before you pull open the door swiftly. 

You’re met with his chest in your face, and you drag your eyes upward to his face. His covered face. In that skull mask he always wears. He’s wearing a black tuxedo along with a crooked black tie. 

“Hi” he says simply, raking his eyes down your form. 

You immediately grab his bicep and pull him into the room and shut the door behind you, pressing your exposed back to the door. He chuckles quietly at you, raising his eyebrows in amusement under his mask. 

“Thank you so much for coming” you breathe out, wringing your hands together. 

He just stares at you for a moment longer, taking in your appearance unabashedly. He shoves his hands in his pocket and clears his throat. 

“Wow. You look amazing” he whistles. 

Your cheeks heat up, your mouth slightly agape as the air leaves your lungs.

“Thank you.”

Your dress swishes around your feet as you push yourself off the door, brushing past him. “I could say the same for you, Simon.” 

Turning around, you brush a piece of stray hair behind your ear, taking a deep breath. He takes a few heavy steps towards you, his silence overbearing. 

“If you could zip me up, that would be great” you smile gently at him, biting your bottom lip awkwardly. You turn around, your exposed back facing Ghost, and you pull your hair over your shoulder. His breath wavers, eyes roaming the expanse of your back, then finally coming to rest on the small of your back. He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close. His free hand closes around the zipper, hesitant to free it. 

“Ghost–”

“It’s Simon. Simon, when we’re not on job,” he corrects. You stand up straight. 

“Simon. Are you going to zip me up?” 

He grunts quietly, then pulls at the zipper once, twice, before it's finally freed. You can feel heat radiating from his fingers as he pulls the zipper up agonizingly slow. As he pulls it up your back, his fingers brush against your skin, the small touches making your knees weak. Your cheeks feel hot from his languid movements. You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he zipped it up to the top.  

The trance you were in abruptly stops as you hear the small click of the zipper hitting the top. You swiftly turn around, the skirt of your dress bustling around as you take a step back, his hand falling from your hip. 

“Well, thank you Gh– Simon” you say, pushing your hair back to its original place. You rock back on your heels as you inspect his covered face.

His eyes look blown wide, his hands now pulling at the bottom of his tux jacket.

“‘s not a problem” he murmurs, eyes still not looking away from you. His hands wander up to his loosened tie, fidgeting with it.

You notice his tie isn’t properly tied, and you take a few steps close to him, your eyes staring straight at his chest.

“Let me help you with that” you point to his tie. You take his hands in yours and gently pull them to his sides. His hands dwarf your own, and you drop them. His breath hitches. 

You wrestle with the tie, your hands brushing up against his chest and collarbone as you twist it into perfection. You keep your eyes trained on the tie, biting your lip as you concentrate. Simon’s eyes remain locked on you, following your every movement. 

The silence permeates the air, save for the rustling of fabric against fabric. 

You finish tying the knot, and pull it up tight to rest against the base of his throat. He stretches his neck upwards as your hands come to fasten the tie in place. You smooth your hands on the edge of his jacket, straightening out any remaining wrinkles. Your head tilts upwards, smiling softly at him. 

“There” you sigh contentedly, patting his cheek gently before pulling away. 

Before you could fully remove yourself, his hand snakes down to your waist, pulling you up against his body. A small squeak slips out of you as his hands rigidly hold your waist.

“Simon–”

“Stop talking.” 

Before you could even process his movements, he yanks his mask over his nose. Your breath catches in your lungs as your eyes trail the features of his lower face. His breath is hot on your face as he leans down, closer and closer. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, eyelashes fluttering as he stares at your lips, noses bumping into each other. He’s only an inch or two away from your face, and you can see every lineament of his skin, his cheekbones, the tip of his pointed nose, his lips. He smells like sandalwood and vetiver, the scent peppery and strong. 

You nod your head fervently, heart racing in your chest. 

“Please.”

That’s all he had to hear you say. 

Simon leans in, closing the miniscule gap between you two. He leans down to press a firm kiss on your lips, inhaling sharply at the contact, eliciting a soft sound from you. Your hands wrap around his neck, tugging him down to your height as his hands roam up and down your back. Simon draws your body against his, pulling you flush against him. He begins to nip your bottom lip, tongue swiping over your lip as if to ask permission. You let him take charge, his hand gliding up your body, your breath growing ragged. 

He bites your lip, slowly pulling away as he breaks contact. You gulp in the cool air of the room, studying his face as he slowly pulls his mask down in place. Your ears are red, face flushed. 

“You’re beautiful,” his voice comes out hoarse as he takes your hand in his. He rubs his thumb in circles around your palm, outlining your face. 

“Thank you” you whisper, taking his hand into your own. 

You gingerly pull him out of your room, and don’t let go of his hand for the rest of the night. 

PART 2

[cherryredstars]

First off, I love you.

Second off, I love you A LOT.

Okay so I’m losing my mind over a brain vomit where younger reader’s been harboring and hiding feelings for Miguel for the sake of being appropriate and it’s starting to make her frustrated like “fuck I’m gonna get actually fucking sick and vomit” because how much she’s crushing on him is CRAZY, so reader basically goes up to Miguel like “I can’t take this anymore.” Like reject me so I can move on type of thing. “ Do me a favor, and break my nose or something. Tell me to fucking go away” or something like that. My brain is burning.

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader, John Price x civil!reader

Warnings: Fluff

A/N: For my baby, I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!

Edited (just for you boo)

| Miguel O'Hara

If you look at him, you will actually throw up.

Like projectile 'make yourself a laughing stock' throw up. It's just the way your body- your stomach- reacts when you see him. It gets twisted, fluttery with a fix of butterflies and disgust. It's down right disgusting, inappropriate at the least. He's almost a decade older than you, yet here you are pining after him as if you're some teenage girl. You feel physically sick when you think about it for too long: throat contracting and your stomach hurting. You aren't sure which of your delusions are the cause of such a horrendous crush, but you promise you'll strangle it when you find out. There is simply no way this could have ever worked out in your favor. It's simply impossible.

Miguel O'Hara would never go for someone like you. Young and naive, haven't even reached the appropriate age to have a mid-life crisis (but you're sure this is the closest fucking thing to it). You know this, hammer it into your thick skull every day before you have to face him. Yet, it all comes crumbling down when you lay eyes on him. It takes less than a second for you to skip after him, a stupid, lovesick look flickering across your face as you help him with whatever he needs. You simply can't stay away, even if you tried. You always fall back into his orbit, gravity pushing you towards him until you're practically glued to him.

You're sure he must find it annoying. Probably relates it to something like babysitting. It's well known Miguel doesn't like to be bothered when he's working. But there you are without fail, sitting around on his platform entertaining yourself by playing with LYLA when you aren't out saving universes. You don't miss the way his eyes flick to you every now and then with some emotion you can't quite place. But if you had to guess, it's probably something close to exasperation.

In all honesty, you're tired of it.

Tired of the false hope you delude yourself into believing after every minor interaction. Tired of trying to justify your affection for the older man. Tired of feeling a bit of resentment towards yourself. You're just... tired. He must sense it when you walk onto the platform, judging by the look he shoots you.

LYLA is muted mid-sentence as he angles his body slightly away from his monitors and towards you, watching as you plop yourself in your usual spot. He waits expectantly for your usual greeting, brows furrowing with confusion when you do nothing but play with the elastic quality of your suit. You haven't even looked at him since you got in.

"Everything alright?" His all so familiar voice asks, making your stomach ache and the urge to punch yourself stronger.

"Yeah," you respond simply, silence lapping over the two of you.

Miguel waits patiently, expecting something more. But, you don't continue. Miguel hesitates for a moment before turning back around. His eyes study the screens once more, his finger hovering over the button to unmute LYLA before you speak up again.

"Can you like... degrade me or something?"

Miguel almost chokes on his spit when he turns around, not expecting you to say...that. You're still playing with your suit and staring at the floor, face painted with frustration. You look up when he doesn't answer, brows furrowed when your eyes meet his shocked face. You quickly divert your attention to his muscular shoulder, not really having the courage to face him head-on.

"Not like the... sexy kind. More like the heart wrenching kind." You clarify, not that it's any better for Miguel.

He turns to full face you this time, arms crossed over his chest as he studies you. The request doesn't really make sense to him. Why would you want him to do that? Is it some universe-exclusive culture he isn't aware of?

"Why?" Miguel asks, trying to recall your past interactions to see if they have something to do with your strange request.

"I dunno, just thought it might make it easier?" You shrug, your eyes flicking to his again and then looking towards the ceiling.

"Make what easier, exactly?"

Miguel isn't a fan of cryptic answers, but he tries to be patient with you. He watches as your face twists, unsure how to word what you're feeling. You let out a heavy sigh eventually, actually meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for once.

"To get over you."

The words cause Miguel to freeze, his body going rigid. You groan, hiding your embarrassed face in your hands and scrubbing ferociously. This is absolutely embarrassing. You wished a random portal would just appear under you, throwing you into another universe and far away from this particular moment in time.

You're so caught up in your embarrassment that you don't realize Miguel is walking over to you until he's crouched down in front of you. He pries your hands gently from your face, giving you the softest smile you have ever seen on him. His thumbs caress your wrists absentmindedly, doing nothing to calm your raging heart. It practically explodes when he leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes are wide and dazed as you look up at him, trying to commit the curve of his mouth to memory.

"Now, why would I want you to do that?"

_____________

| John Price

You aren't exactly sure when it started.

But the moment you realized you liked John, you've started hating yourself. It feels wrong. Almost disrespectful in a way. You aren't particularly sure why, it just does. John Price is a nice man, a good man. A man that could be easily mistaken as your father if someone didn't look close enough. The man you had happened to meet and befriended one day after he had been so kind and gentle with you.

Not the man you should be liking and forcing your feelings on.

You're someone John goes to for comfort, someone he seeks out after coming home from a battlefield. Someone that's supposed to help him distress. The idea of taking advantage of that gently placed trust, of expecting something from John just because he goes to you for help, makes you want to throw up until you're nothing but a useless husk. It's shameful, eating you up on the inside until you feel like your organs are on the verge of failure.

So your solution: Avoid Johnathan Price like the plague.

Does it hurt seeing his texts flash across your phone screen, asking you if you're free throughout the week so he can spend time with you before he deploys again? Hell fucking yes. It makes you feel guilty as hell. But you try to justify it to yourself, reassuring that it's only temporary. That everything will go back to normal once these stupid feelings leave you alone and John Price goes back to being the sweet man you grab lunch with every now and then when he's home so you can catch up.

But of course, your plans never go accordingly.

You startle on your couch when there is a firm knocking on your door, your hands rushing to pause the telly to see if it was just a hallucination. But sure enough, that same steady knocking sounds again. You get up hesitantly, brows furrowed as you try to remember if you ordered take away or something. You peak through the peep-hole, hand planted on the cool wood of the door as you squint.

The alertness in your body dies away when the familiar frame of John greets you, only to tense up again. John Price is at your door. The same John price you've been avoiding for a week. The same exact John fucking Price you're practically in love with. Your hand slides down to the knob, gulping nervously as you unlock it and yank your door open.

John is standing there with his hand raised again to knock, decked out in his military gear. His hands drop to grip the strap of his vest, his mutton chops quivering as his face lifts into his soft smile. You blink up at him, feeling the knob warm under your hand and your heart slamming against your chest. Why did he have to be so handsome, goddamnit?

You step out of the doorway, silently inviting him inside. He accepts it, stepping in and examining the area out of habit. You close the door quietly after him, turning to face him as he turns to face you.

"Missed ya, love? Been busy lately?" He asks in that comfortingly rough voice of his.

You don't trust yourself to not choke on your words, scared he'll see through your lies. Instead you nod, letting out a weak hum that he returns in a more confident note. Your eyes drop down to his military gear, a frown slipping onto your face. Is he being deployed again?

As if sensing the underlying question, John's hands let go of his military vest and he stuffs them into the pockets of his tactical pants.

"Heading out tonight, just wanted to say goodbye before I go since I didn't get to see you this time around."

You feel a stab to your chest at his words, resisting the urge to lift your hand and smooth the pain.

"John..." You start hesitantly, your mouth going dry when he hums again. "Can you tell me you hate me? Or... or that you think I'm stupid or something?"

John tilts his head in confusion, brows furrowing as his lips thin. There is a silent question in your eyes, an aura of demand wafting from him that orders you to explain further. Your hand comes to rub your arm, socked heel digging into your ankle as you debate how much to tell him.

"It's just... I like you and I don't..." You sigh in frustration, turning your head away to glare at the wall. "I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of how nice you've been to me or that I expect you to reciprocate how I feel."

It's quiet for a moment before John's chuckling fills the room. Your head turns away from the wall, meeting the sparkling amusement in John's eyes as he looks at you. There is a fondness there that makes your knees feel weak, your breath getting trapped in your lungs. John takes steady, reassured steps towards you, stopping when he's centimeters away. Your heart is practically lurching in your chest as you look up at him, watching as he slowly takes off his boonie hat.

Your eyes are wide as he places it over your head, chuckling when it slips down over your face before he readjusts it. He admires the sight for a second before he leans down, his facial hair tickling your cheeks as his lips press against the corner of your mouth. Your heart officially stops, your body dangerously close to swaying as he pulls away. You're in a daze as he pinches your cheek lightly, trying to call your attention away from the sparks lingering across your skin.

"We'll take about this when I get back, silly girl." He rumbles, his heavy paw landing on the top of his hat before he slips past you, closing and locking the door behind him as he disappears out of your flat. You're left in a daze as your shaky hands reach up and grasp the rim of his hat, the smell of him instantly invading your senses.

And when John reaches base and the lads pester him about where his usual hat is, he just shakes his head and replies that he left it at home for safe keeping.

[thebearer]

hi e! back again with more carmy shit because i love the way you did my little blurb justice 🥰. i literally just envisioned sydney minding her own business and just recklessly placing carmy in the hot seat cause she knew his ass was gon get it 😂. i’m all in for more dom!carmy so i’d love to keep the idea going that his s/o works for/with/alongside him at the bear with a touch of her giving him her two cents? a little bit of sass to just remind who he’s dealing with 😩. maybe this time around he slipped up on something major (a birthday, anniversary, or something that overall was important to the reader and he put it off because in his mind the bear comes first). she’s been slowly driving him crazy with that silent treatment she’s been doing for the last few days and her less than a few syllabled words when he doesn’t remind her how irked he made her 😂; she’s not mad anymore just disappointed. and anyway basically in a prep for preordered to go’s on lunch rush he’s reading back orders to her and she completely writes him off. i can see him being like exactly how he when he’s not getting when he needs from his staff during a frenzy and flipping tf out. like you know when he repeats himself a second time as if you didn’t hear him the first he means it 😂. tysm in advance! please feel free to do whatever you’d like. i’m writing this at 6 in the morning so many ideas are coming into the fold. i hope you have a great day - 🥣.

ok i did sorta a different-ish take. same idea but i don't write the reader as a chef bc quite honestly i can't relate lmao i'm a horrendous cook lol. but silent treatment yes!! reader works at the bear but not a chef.

"Does anyone know where the extra napkins are? Mindy needs to be settin' tables." Carmen huffed, slamming the empty crate back in the back stock.

"That would be your missus' domain." Richie snickers, elbowing Fak lightly. "Guess you better go ask her, Cousin."

"Yeah? Fuck off. Thought it was your fuckin' job." Carmen grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Me? Fuck no, Cousin. You know who's job it is, c'mon." Richie grinned. "It's your wife, Carm. What? Scared to talk to your wife?"

Carmen sneered, huffing in annoyance, but the truth was... yes, he was a little scared. Especially with how furious you were at him. Carmen was a chronic over worker, barely taking time for himself. It was a constant fight between the two of you, one he'd gotten better at, but still struggled finding that balance. Which normally, you'd be more forgiving about.

Except it was your anniversary.

Carmen left you waiting at home, dressed up with a new lingerie set that he painfully didn't get to enjoy. By the time he got off, taking his time to clean the kitchen, prep for tomorrow's crowd, he looked at his phone and saw your texts and calls, his heart dropping.

You'd been giving him the cold shoulder since then, furious and hurt- or so he assumed, you wouldn't say anything.

Richie found the entire thing hilarious when Carmen told him. "You forgot your fuckin' anniversary? You jagoff, holy shit."

Carmen found it less than amusing. The tension in the restaurant was thick because of the two of you. Everyone teetering around you, but especially Carmen, he was more on edge now.

Pushing the door open to the office, Carmen ducked his head in, seeing you at his desk- your desk, technically, you used it more. "Hey, honey," Carmen's voice was soft, a sweet hum that had your spine straightening. He flinched lightly, stepping towards you. "D'you know where the extra napkins are?"

You didn't reply, simply typing on your laptop, editing a video for the social media page about the upcoming summer specials.

Carmen blinked, barking out your name in a much harsher than he meant to, but it seemed to work. Kinda. Your head whipped around, eyes in a burning glare when they met his, but your lips were still pressed together.

Carmen through his hands out in exasperation. "Are you bein' fuckin' serious with me?"

Richie made his way towards the table where Tina was doing prep, craning his neck to watch. Your lips twisted, glaring harshly at Carmen. Carmen huffed, a hand running over his forehead. "What do you want from me, huh? What? You're just never gonna speak to me again? I forgot, ok? I didn't mean to, I just fuckin' forgot! I was at work!"

You glared at him, feeling Richie's amused gaze from over Carmen's shoulder, the rest of the staff pretending to be busy to hear. "Shut the door." You snapped.

Carmen flinched, shocked. "What-"

"Shut the fuckin' door, now." You snapped, slamming your laptop, turning to face him. Carmen pressed the door shut, ignoring Richie's whines of "c'mon, Cousin, it was just gettin' good!".

The two of you stared, neither being the first to talk, not wanting to break. You huffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "You wanted to talk, talk, Carmen. I've got shit to do."

"Hey," Carmen's eyes flashed at you, his tone hard with an edge of warning. "You better watch your-"

"-No, you better watch your mouth with me. Watch what you say to me, Berzatto." You snapped, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't a fuckin' game, alright? I'm mad at you. Actually fuckin' mad at you."

Carmen's stomach turned, swallowing the guilt rising with the bile in his throat. "I... I'm sorry-"

"-Sorry isn't going to work this time, Carmen. It's always sorry. Always I didn't fuckin' mean to, I got busy." You snapped, arms wrapping over your torso. "You always do this, but our anniversary? You forgot our anniversary?"

"No, I didn't forget." Carmen ran a hand down his face. "I got you flowers and-and the bracelet-"

"-And that was very nice, Carmen, but you weren't there." You snapped, the finality in his tone making his rebuttal dissolve in his mouth. The hurt in your eyes, rounding and pitiful, soft and pleading with him. You were angry, but you were hurt, too.

His shoulders deflated, breath leaving his lungs. "You're right," Carmen nodded slowly. "No, you're-you're right, and-and-and I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby." Carmen said sincerely, eyes shining with sincerity. "I... I got caught up and I-I shouldn't have even been working that day, I just..."

"I know." You muttered, looking down at the desk, a framed picture of the two of you in Copenhagen at your wedding ceremony. Carmen in his suit, you in your dress, happy and smiling with the breathtaking scenery behind you.

Carmen could feel the guilt growing in his chest, palms sweating and heart racing, the panic to fix it- to do something. "How much longer do you have?" Carmen asked, nodding towards your laptop.

"Just a few more things to edit." You looked at your paused work. "Why?"

"Let me... Let me make it right." Carmen sighed, shaking hands fumbling towards his apron.

"Carmen, you can't leave-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I can." Carmen nodded, pulling the door out and calling for Sydney. "Can you cover tonight, Chef?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can." Sydney nodded.

"I got it too, Cousin-" Carmen shut the door before he could hear Richie's full comment, sure something smart ass would be included.

"Let's go out." Carmen looked at you. "A make up. Please?"

You folded your arms, pouting lightly. "'m not dressed for going out."

"What're you talkin' about? You look beautiful, c'mon." Carmen shook his head lightly at you, shoving his clothes into his bag, pulling out his spare.

You tried not to drool at the sight of his chest. You'd missed him, you really had. It was a shame the lingerie went to waste.

Carmen pulled you out of the restaurant, hand on your waist, holding you close to his side. It wasn't the fancy reservations you'd planned, no Michelin star restaurants with expensive wine. No, instead, he took you to some a rooftop restaurant, one with the vibey aesthetic you always cooed at on Instagram. Sitting and sharing pretzels and greasy food, snuggled into Carmen's side while he ordered dessert. Giggling when he fed you the brownie sundae, tilting your head back with his fingers cradling your jaw lightly. It was simple, romantic, and fun. Made your heart swell, clinging to him the whole way home.

And when you got home? Carmen was in heaven. Letting you show him what he missed a few days earlier.

[lewistoferrari]

I'm gonna just come out with this first and say that I am actually black, unlike some of the anons who come on here, but I genuinely want to believe auspicious is trying and will improve in the future.

There is a big common difference in language in other countries than in the US. There are words they use that are offensive here but aren't there, and it's not always an excuse. I'm not saying she can't educate herself, but she even said she really did not know which I'd like to believe instead of holding a shade over her head.

We are cultures apart from countless people all over the world, and there's bound to be some mistakes here and there. Is it common for us as poc people to experience situations like this? Yes, most definitely, but that doesn't mean every single white person is doing/saying things out of malicious intent.

Her writing was done terribly wrong, the entire situation looked horrendous, but it felt like instead of educating her like we should do, you took how fed up you were and placed it all on top of her. We don't have much representation in this world. There aren't many black writers or black characters out there for us and were often treated wrong, and it's tiring. That shouldn't mean we take that frustration out on her.

It just seemed like really bully behavior to say most of her writing is shit instead of reaching out and saying how she could change and do better. Maybe I'm an optimist who tries to always see the good in people, but this entire situation could've been handled better.

honestly telling me that you’re black (and on anon at that) does not move me when you’re sitting up here trying to tell me that i should go out of my way and educate people about racism and anti-blackness when i definitely don’t have to do that. if they have access to tumblr, then they have access to the internet. i am not anyone’s mule and definitely don’t have to anything i don’t wanna do just because you say so. if you’re so concerned about educating her & the masses then YOU do it.

“there is a big common difference in language in other countries than in the US.” mind you the n word exists in every language but alright!!!

also the “not all white people” line doesn’t work on me so you can dead that.

i’ll take my frustrations out on whoever the hell i want to especially when she was warned twice on anon about the characterization and her use of a slur (which is the only thing y’all keep focusing on, instead of focusing on the stereotypical way she wrote a black male character). she was also talked to in private. and instead of apologizing and taking the fic down, she tried to edit it and repost it. she only wrote that lil essay (still no apology) and deleted the fic after she saw ppl discussing the issue.

“it just seemed like really bully behavior to say most of her writing is shit” mind you this is what i said. so don’t come into my inbox putting words in my mouth.

i also find it funny how some of y’all have been clicking that “ask anonymously” button and are trying to tell us that we’re overreacting. you better think again the next time you come into my inbox talking out the side of your neck. this was me being nice.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Prompt idea: Holiday celebration get horrendously fucked (birthday, Christmas, Halloween, Passover, doesn’t matter really, dealers choice) and one of them has to comfort the other and help them through a meltdown over their favorite day getting fucked up

Happy birthday and hopefully your day isn’t as bad as you would make Ed and Stede’s!

I wasn't able to get this one edited and posted on my birthday, but it's still a precious prompt and I loved writing for it!! Here's the story of The Time That Stede Fucked Up Passover.

--

"The eleventh plague," Stede said glumly as he watched Ed open a kitchen window to air out some of the smoke, "easily misread cooking directions."

"Well, babe," Ed said over his shoulder, "I'm not sure why you thought that the oven needed to be set to 450 for brisket -"

"I misread the package, Ed," Stede snapped, trying to hide the wobble in his voice.

"Aww, no, that came out wrong." Ed, who had been poking at the smoking, thoroughly blackened brisket sitting on the stovetop to salvage for any edible parts, held out a hand for Stede to take.

Stede pretended he didn't see, looking down at his lap.

It was Stede's first Passover with Ed, and he knew it was a big deal. Ed's mama was coming over for the seder, and Stede had been trying so fucking hard to get it all right. Passover was Ed's favorite holiday! He couldn't fuck it up!

So he did all his research. He practiced reading the haggadah, the text read at the seder - even though Ed would be doing most of the reading, he wanted to be able to pronounce the prayers without asking for help and mark spots where he could raise interesting discussion or questions and (hopefully) impress Ed's mom. He'd figured out voices to use for all of Ed's plague-themed finger puppets to add a bit of levity, triple-checked what they needed for the seder plate, and he'd stressed over making sure dinner was perfect.

When the local synagogue had released sign-ups for pre-made brisket packs, of course he'd signed them up. He wasn't the greatest cook, and neither was Ed, so he figured that having the main course squared away would take a load off his mind and allow him to focus on getting the table set and ready while Ed prepared the roasted sweet potatoes, matzo ball soup, and an extra-big helping of charoset.

And now he'd fucked up his one contribution to dinner, and he hadn't even gotten the table ready, and he'd forgotten to put the wine in the fridge to chill, all because he couldn't even read the package -

"Stede, babe, you need to breathe."

Stede jerked his eyes open. He didn't even remember closing them, but now Ed was kneeling in front of him at the table. He put a gentle, calming hand on Stede's thigh, looking up at him with a small smile.

"I'm so, so sorry, Ed," Stede sighed, scrubbing at his eyes before his tears could fall. "I've ruined everything - I'm the worst boyfriend ever."

"Hey, don't talk about my boyfriend that way," Ed pretended to grumble. "You just misread the instructions. Could've happened to anyone, and you've never made brisket before, have you?"

"No," Stede admitted.

"There ya go," Ed said easily. "You do need to wear your reading glasses more often, though. Not even just saying that because I think they're hot."

"Ed," Stede snorted. "Was any of it edible?"

"Stede," Ed said solemnly, "that thing is burnt to a sizzle. It's basically a rock. It's an ex-brisket."

"Great," Stede sighed. "Your mom's going to hate me."

"She's gonna love you," Ed promised. "Wanna know how I know?"

Stede just pursed his lips.

"Because you tried," Ed said. "You tried so fucking hard."

"That doesn't change the fact that our main course is burnt beyond recognition, Ed."

"C'mon, man, get it straight." Ed rubbed a soothing little circle over Stede's kneecap. "If you think my mama is showing up here without more food than any of us can eat, you're in for a surprise."

Well. That made it a bit better.

"I'm just sorry," Stede said, his shoulders hunching inward with his guilt. "I wanted this to be the best Passover you've ever had -"

"It will be," Ed said, immediately. "Because you're here. And I love you."

"I love you, too." Stede cupped Ed's cheek in his hand, his heart swelling at the way Ed tilted his face into the contact. "Promise you're not mad?"

"Not a bit," Ed said.

Stede leaned in to kiss him, but they pulled apart when they heard a car pull into the driveway.

"The eleventh plague," Ed said cheekily, giving Stede a quick kiss on his way up. "Meeting your boyfriend's mom."

Stede shivered.

"C'mon, babe, she'll love you!" One last kiss, and Ed darted out to meet his mama before she had a chance to start trying to carry things in herself.

Stede took a deep breath, made sure no one could see him for just long enough to flip off the stupid brisket on the stove, and then he ran out to join them.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

It seems that Vhagar is the only living, breathing creature that still cares about Aemond. His sister is apathetic at the prospect of his death, his mother sold him and his brother to Rhae Rhae knowing that it's was death sentence, he probably will never interact with Daeron, and I'm pretty sure that Alys will work against him. As far as I'm concerned, he should just take the granny and give her the best time of her life, inflict as much damage to the blacks as possible and then die, but not before forcing the morally grey™ Rogue prince to do the same.

And it's crazy, but they managed to get me, once a staunch Alicent supporter, to scroll through anti Alicent Hightower tag and just agree with almost everything. Her character assassination was appalling, not only the book Alicent would never, but ep 1-8 Alicent would never. I wish I could erase this horrendous season from my memory. Idk if you've read what Hess said, but according to her, Alicent in the scene at Dragonstone with Rhaenyra realised that she never really sacrificed anything and that's why she agrees to sacrifice her son(s) for "peace". Also, she claims that the writers' intention was to make the audience believe how everything is finally going to be alright because these two women are friends and will work it though, but then *gasp* we see Aegon leaving in the cart and we realize that the war is still going to happen because Rhaenyra will think that Alicent deceived her!!. She must be proud of herself. I can't believe how vile and deranged these writers and showrunners sound (and maybe even are).

Hello!

I lost count how many times I read these words (or even wrote them myself) in the span of the last week but this show is an absolute mess. And it's not just about the stupidest bias, the quality of the script or the lack of subtlety with which the writers are shoving their views on the characters' relationships down our throats. It's also the fact that every person involved in the creative process has theit own view on what's going on - and sometimes these views are diametrically opposed. Take Olivia saying that in her mind Alicent wanted to spit in Rhaenyra's face when she asked her to give Aegon up but mentioning she doesn't know how the material was edited yet - and the writers going all "Oh, she is liberated now! She is atoning for her sins!" (which sins exactly, by the way?). In what world is this situation okay? The actors are barely hiding their dissatisfaction about the plot - and the writers just keep doing their thing which is talking absolute nonsense. Stellar project, well done, HBO.

I am still in the "don't hate the characters, hate the writers" mindset (and have no plans to change it) - but did the writers do Alicent dirty. They dehumanized Aemond the most - but Alicent drew maximum humiliation card. Self flagellation in front of the woman who is an active threat to her children's (and to her own life)? Selling said children (at least her sons) to said woman? Amazing character development.

And as for Aemond, I have the feeling that Vhagar will be his only friend and ally as well (unless the writers turn their own story on its head and have Alys fall head over hills in love with him or something like that). At least, hopefully, he will have nothing to do with Helaena's death (I am pretty sure they will make it the fault of someone from TG - B&C wasn't made into a joke for nothing after all).

This show has become so draining recently, istg.

[xtraordinaryfangrl]

Yeah... turns out the streets were right about how the 6 measly episodes of TUA S4 was made in somebody's butt crack. I don't even have to watch it now (although I might after cleansing my mind with seasons 1 and 2 - aka PEAK TELEVISION) and I haven't even finished S3 because of how badly they butchered Alison's character/her relationship with Viktor. I do, however, have some very confused thoughts from the bits I've seen so far of the final season:

—

|‼️SPOILER ALERT‼️|

—

- Diego and Lila had 3 kids - two daughters and an unnamed son, according to the wiki-page? So what, is their son supposed to be a pee-wee version of Stanley (or as I know him, a softer version of Ashtray from Euphoria)?? That'd be cool if it was, y'know, confirmed. Guess I'll never know, and that in itself should be a criminal offense.

- SPEAKING OF ILLEGAL ACTIVITY - whoever pitched Five and Lila as a romantic pairing needs a psyche evaluation. You mean to tell me that not only she cheats on my man Diego, but she cheats on him with somebody who looks like a sophomore in college? She couldn’t have an affair with Sparrow!Ben? Or Luther - who apparently dabbles in male-stripping now? OR Viktor the Critically Acclaimed Ladies Man? Literally any other Hargreeves sibling would have been a better spring fling than a middle-aged man in a child’s body.

- Allison doesn’t say “I heard a rumor…” at all from the edits I’ve seen of her… Suspicious. Also, Ray just ditched her and Claire? For what- genuinely- WHY WOULD YOU GIVE MY SISTA A VILLAIN ARC FOR NO REASON LIKE-

- Weirdly enough, I’m sort of OK with the ending. Something will never sit right with me about the Hargreeves Siblings only finding peace in death after everything they’ve been through, sure. But their sacrifice makes sense, if not one huge inconsistency.

They didn’t just die, apparently. They were erased from existence, and their children still exist because of the Grandfather Paradox (which I still don’t get, by the way)? Fine. And yet, by some not-so-subtle foreshadowing, there’s an end-credits scene with a row of flowers - 8 marigolds. That’s not a coincidence, or maybe it is, but then that would also equate to more horrendous writing.

All in all, my love for the found-family trope is slightly tarnished now because of St*ve Bl*ckman and the only cure seems to be AO3.

—

Hell, I don’t write for this fandom, but if this isn’t a reason to start then what is?

[sgiandubh]

He's been in Los Angeles since Tuesday. Work friend saw him in Malubu Tuesday night. She said he was with a couple people no mention of Caitriona.

Dear Tuesday Anon,

I am sorry to pop your balloon here, but I'd be reserved on this. It could fit, but barely.

You all know I am terrible with timelines, but here is my take on things:

Sunday 28th, red carpet in Ostende, Belgium. Afterparty, etc. Perhaps not the best idea to pop in a car all'alba/at daybreak for an almost 5 hour ride to Paris.

Monday 29th, not much. We can speculate, but I would need an Advil. Most probably on this way to Paris. I doubt the Eurostar (the train formerly known as Thalys) was worth a Brussels detour and, while they used to have an Ostende-Paris direct link, it was dropped off around 2015. Why take a 90 minutes' detour (119 km!) to get to the Bruxelles Midi Train Station and hop on the Paris direct Eurostar link for the 90 minute ride, when you could only add (roughly) an hour by car and leave directly from Ostende?

I am immediately having visions of the horrendously impractical hullaballoo at Bruxelles Midi and to me, it's a firm no. @margareth-lv 's guess of a direct car trip is the most logical one and I am sticking with it. Paris pic was posted on Wednesday morning and he was staying at the Hôtel Lutétia, as I heavily hinted in my post (it used to be the Nazi Abwehr/Military Intelligence HQ during World War II). Probably one of the corner suites (angle of rue de Sèvres and Boulevard Raspail), hotel has a very good seafood restaurant, too.

Everything fits: the outside view, the reel/story angle. On my screenshot, x marks the spot on the map and the arrow, the outside view of the corner suites. I should know, it was my playground, many moons ago:

It is possible the reel was taken Monday evening upon arrival, but for being intimately familiar with Parisian nights, my best bet is on Tuesday morning, very early (jogging? leaving?). Just an intuition, and I could be wrong and I am ready to correct and edit, as we go.

We then assume a direct CDG-LAX flight. Since it's not possible to check past flight schedules, we work with a random February Tuesday. First and Business class yield different results (Shipper Mum, a former airline executive, helped me with those over the phone: hi, mum!).

Traveling First Class (very possible, damn expensive, but money is no object and Frequent Flyer mileage - always redeemable):

Traveling Business Class (reasonably possible and two more options):

Factoring in arrival/border/luggage procedures and city/airport, then airport/city transfers, it's not impossible, but to any normal human being who was Batman only on stage (even very fit)... a bit of a stretch.

This is my take on your info. Please don't take it personally (or at least try). I simply think he might have arrived in LA yesterday, Thursday, when the Los Feliz pic was taken, with his luggage in tow.

But you know what, Tuesday Anon? One thing I am sure of, is that this is exactly what he wants us to do, right now. Cue in the Yellow Ski Outfitgate, for fun. Schuss on top - that was a blatant von Trapp latergram and my mind immediately pictured a sidesmile.

At any rate, don't be a stranger. I answered you with all the care and caution in the world. And thank you, whoever you are. It was a fun phone call to Bucharest and Mom, who is laughing like a drain and told me I was probably bonkers.

[timeregistry]

omg dude i love ur sebastian!!!

and if u want, i’ll tag u when i post my painter design

i’d also like to hear more of ur ramblings about pressure or anything of the sort :3

have a good day!!!

TYSM!!! I'm glad people like him 🥹He's been my everything since I got into Pressure, let's just say that the AU of my fic had lived in my brain since forever before I started writing LOL

OH and also I would ADORE to see your Painter design PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏 I LOVE PAINTER SM I LOVE ALL PAINTER DESIGNS

ALSO sorry for answering this so late I got injured (again...) and it was hard to write but also I’m INSANE like IM CRAZY you literally put on a silver platter that I can talk about ANYTHING like DUDE. IM CRAZY. I jump around fandoms a lot so to say that I have a lot on my mind apart from work is an understatement (let's just say earlier I went crazy about regretevator...... it's bad)

SO to organize my thoughts, I've been really wanting to actually talk about like... some thought process stuff of my fic (A Human's Touch) and things that happen before the fic... since SO MUCH happened but I don't mention it because we are put at a specific moment in the story... VERY VERY Sebastian and reader focused so TW: Sebastian Solace 😔

Under cut because its LONG. LIKE. REALLY LONG. I HAVE TOO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT LMAOOOO

SO pressure's lore is a MESS don't get me started on how I feel about the current lore so I decided that since no one really saw the timeline or pretends it doesn't exist as they should, I feel it's a bit unlikely Sebastian would be able to convince Painter to start killing people after meeting it TWENTY MINUTES PRIOR T_T (and hacking all of Urbanshade network in that time?!) so that's why I actually made (in chapter 7 that is not on tumblr rn LOL) them meet. I mentioned in a comment on AO3 since someone had asked smth about Sebastian and just to give an idea, the start of A Human's Touch happens a couple of months before the events of Pressure. SO at that point, Sebastian and Painter have known each other for months. I would LOVE to go into detail how I see their relationship is when the lockdown happens + what happens with reader but I DONT WANT TO SPOIL ANYTHING T_T so maybe when I finish the fic I'll go into detail as I'm not actually really planning on writing the actual like.... events of pressure w/ reader instead I guess, idk how to put it, just to let you in a little secret, Painter does know part of Sebastian's plan when the lockdown happens in this universe.

So enough about Pressure lore and what I changed from that, I wanted to talk a bit about before the events of the fic... I didn't write it since I felt it would be very Sebastian and reader centric and since it was most likely going to be in a platonic sense I wasn't sure if people would be interested! To admit something since I don't imagine many people will read this but originally I had written a fic that was with Sebastian (it was more romance with him tho as I was down HORRENDOUS I wrote so much Sebastian y’all have no idea I got jumpscared trying to find some of my old things to reference and seeing the sheer amount of Sebastian) which was actually where the original summary of A Human's Touch came from HELPPPP LIKE ORIGINALLY IT WAS A PARAGRAPH OF MY FIC I JUST EDITED IT T_T I never post what I write I'm surprised that I even posted A Human's Touch but I digress. Anyways I had originally considered writing a platonic version of that fic (not like that one was finished) but in the end I never did since again, I didn't think anyone would read it--

Either way, here is a TLDR of how reader and Sebastian met. Basically reader came in as an intern to Urbanshade right? How I imagined it was that they actually had seen Sebastian when he was still in his big ol heavy containment aquarium. While I think he still needs to go there when Urbanshade wants to contain him, I imagine reader met him when he was MOSTLY in there... While he could leave as his status as an MR-P made it so that now he could leave and free-roam, I imagined that he never really saw a reason to do so... I think atp Urbanshade hadn't really found a good reason for him either, as he was soo unpredictable because of how aggressive he was with them. SO they just leave him in his cell basically, its good to see if there were any longer terms effects of his… condition. He would normally just look into the window and look at any of the scientists.

Now how I imagined his heavy containment cell was that like, an aquarium. Like there is this big window where you can see him but I imagine that he had this like area at the surface of his cell that there is like a walking area but it was specifically because not only is he an MR-P so its like a little better than his old cell but also because he was exactly for an experiment that was to make humans be able to breathe over and underwater so I like to think they want him to take in oxygen naturally anyways–

MS Paint jumpscare but something like this

ANYWAYS I imagine reader had seen him from the window that you can peak in from just him swimming around and being completely fascinated by him. Stuff happens, and they decide to try to see him without their superiors knowing so... I decided I would pull directly from one of my old fics:

You first met Sebastian fully at night, when most scientists were already resting in their own quarters. You were already shown where you would stay, yet you couldn’t get the image of Sebastian out of your mind. You wanted to meet him directly. He was the first of the subjects that you met, against all safety protocols and you remember he himself mentioning it. He was rude and in all ways, a certified asshole, immediately tricking you by making you walk a bit too close and effectively making you fall in his tank. He didn’t keep you there however, you knew he didn’t like your presence but you couldn’t resist wanting to learn more about him.

How I imagine reader's and Sebastian's relationship was just, a really rocky start because we have reader who wanted to know more about him and then we have Sebastian who didn't want to know anything about reader because they are just another scientist. He never left his containment either because I imagine that the other prisoners would give him funny looks and dislike his presence because of how he was. I think... he was very bitter. It took a lot for him to warm up as he did… Especially with someone who was one of the scientists! 

“You really don’t know do you?” Sebastian snarled slightly, his casual facade crumbling briefly as his expression went more of pity. “Of course you don’t, you keep coming in here as if I can’t kill you right here and now.” You frowned at him. “I’m here to learn-” “You are trapped. They have you right where they want you. The moment that you have served your purpose they will kill you.” He put a claw near you, his other hand flaunting his sharp nails. You took a step back, sensing danger unconsciously. He noticed, his trained eyes on you like a predator. “Word of advice, start making yourself useful and leave me alone.”

I always saw that reader was treading on treacherous waters... always seeing Sebastian secretly at night and after talking with him, he would eventually warm up because whether he liked it or not, I think he was lonely. Because he would live without speaking with anyone and talking to someone who's a lot more genuine... I don't think the reader is like the other scientists at all, I don't think that it would even be known what Urbanshade was doing! I think Urbanshade just flaunts a lot and doesn't hide anything, but makes any new interns or hires go through the longest paperwork part of their work EVER to see if they are dedicated before kinda forcing the unethical experiments... basically like roping in with mundanity and beauty, the curiousity on how these beautiful sea creatures are made only to find out that it was all done with torture--

SO my point is that reader didn't know what happened to Sebastian, nor knew why he was so standoffish, they were forced to do ONLY paperwork and their free time went into seeing the subject that they can see very very easily. It was like... just the curiousity of what Sebastian was, what he was capable of, etc etc. I don't think reader even knew that he was... human. And he doesn't mention it either... I think he only mentions it soooo much later... As for Sebastian’s side of things, I imagine he decided to entertain the reader only because atp he’s thinking he can probably use their naivety for his escape!

ANYWAYS to skip ahead because I have JUST SEEN THE SHEER LENGTH OF THIS IM SOOOO SORRY I LOVE LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY CREATIONS IDK lore dump moment

So at one point, Urbanshade notices that reader is interacting with Sebastian, however, instead of like, stopping them, I imagine that Urbanshade instead saw an opportunity. Sebastian doesn’t talk to ANYONE so suddenly finding out that he’s talking to someone??? 

It was only much later that he actually warmed up to your presence, choosing to follow you around when you were stuck doing your boring paperwork. You were starting to regret applying here as they wanted to wait a really long time until you could actually do any hands-on work. However, Sebastian’s presence made the situation a lot more bearable, as he would sometimes read over your shoulder and mention things that you would outright forget to write down. Because of his seeming attachment to you, your higher-ups completely changed your temporary job of reading and copying down paperwork into instead… still do the same thing but also look over Sebastian’s behaviour. They would say how you were the only person that he got along with, which meant it was the opportune moment to find out more about him and fill his file even more as it was severely lacking apparently. And so started your Behavioural Scientist job with no hiccups whatsoever. Especially not after begging Urbanshade not to let you go after the internship ended, convincing them that you were the only person who managed to get even remotely close to Sebastian’s good graces. No issues at all... 

OH and at some point reader is given their own office and it’s because they had a normal desk like other people before but because Sebastian is.. big… he would push the desks all the time and he would apologize to the scientists but you can tell he wasn’t being genuine as the malice was obvious on him SCREAMING but after having TOO MANY complaints about Sebastian following reader around and reader insisting that they need him to follow because it’s their job, Urbanshade just gave them a temporal office (that became their permanent office for years to come)--

I think it’s there where Sebastian starts seeing reader as a “friend”, they never hurt him and quickly realise that reader was genuinely not evil like the scientists that experimented on him. While Urbanshade made reader the behavioural scientist, they started working with other subjects as well (as you guys know) and Sebastian started seeing reader in a much more positive light. 

Reader goes on vacation sometimes, brings a lot of trinkets and pictures of the outside world to Sebastian. I think he tries to keep a strong face when he gets some of those things, he misses the outside world. I like to think reader asked him once what was his favorite snack and he would mention something from Chile and reader would get it for him and that’s probably the first time that he does cry in front of them because of the whole emotion of having something that’s basically a comfort food after so long. It was like a taste of freedom. Something to look forward to and not give up to Urbanshade. And seeing as how reader didn’t look disappointed or in any negative emotion I think that’s when Sebastian just completely changed his perspective. The idea where now in his grand plan of escaping the Blacksite that he had been making the moment that Urbanshade stopped doing the extreme experiments and let him walk (slitter?) freely now would include reader. 

While he knows reader is there for the other subjects too, he also knows that they are mostly there for him counting as I imagine there is a lot of subjects that reader can’t understand (like the angler… or pandemonium…) and while Sebastian knows a lot of them thanks to working with reader so closely (him reading all these classified documents) that he weights if he would escape the Blacksite he would want to take reader with him. I think at first when they met he was like they might die but its a sacrifice for his escape (they are but another scientist), but now he’s like if they die I die (“I have failed.”).

BASICALLY I imagine their friendship that is very slowburn but in the end they become extremely loyal to each other, reader doesn’t know that they are part of his plan now. I mention it in A Human’s Touch but Sebastian has this hidden room where he keeps all these things and he probably has written (in a coded language) a whole plan of his escape + what he would do once he gets out of the Blacksite. At first it only included him but the longer he spent with reader the more he kept in mine their safety as they are the only friend he’s had for years and they are ATTACHED. 

Oh and a final note, Sebastian’s bracelets were given by reader, but i wanted to talk briefly on the obsidian one because I went with spirituality and symbolism as to why I took that material… obsidian bracelets mean protection, grounding and emotional healing… a lot of mental clearance and transforms negative energy to positive ones. I like to think that reader got it for him after learning more about him, because just as he wants them to be safe, they want him to be safe too. Their biggest fear is that Urbanshade would want to experiment harder again with him again and/or kill him. Sebastian shares the same fear.

OK I think I am... done... I'm so sorry AGAIN if something doesn't make sense... feel free to send an ask.... That goes for anyone ofc but yes... I'm crazy but if you got this far here's a quick doodle I did for your troubles dear reader

[roomwithanopenfire]

Happy Saturday! I'm posting early for two reasons. 1) I'm going on a trip today and won't have a ton of time tomorrow; 2) Today's my birthday! And I'm one of those people when it comes to my birthday and I want the attention 🙃

I am currently on a long road trip with two of my best friends so everyone cross their fingers that it isn't horrendously cloudy and we can actually see the total solar eclipse on Monday 🤞

I haven't done really much writing at all this week because I've been so busy (you can tell that there's only a month left of the semester with the sheer amount of projects I have to do in all of my classes). But I've been working away at editing Proof of Life, which in case you missed it has two chapters now with a third one coming on Monday (if only I could schedule AO3 posts like tumblr posts, my life would be so much easier). Anyway, snippet from the incoming Chapter Three. Fiona finally makes an appearance.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Fiona said, swatting me and my judgemental expression. “I haven't really had much time for unpacking.”

“I can see that.”

“Oi.” Fiona pointed her finger at me—mock-stern. “Don’t get sassy like that with me, Basil. I’ve been very busy.”

“Oh, yeah? Doing what?” 

Fiona clicked her tongue. “Important stuff. Don’t worry your pretty head.” I snorted. Important stuff. Fiona didn’t do anything important.

Don't let this snippet fool you though, this chapter will be mostly sad

Tags and Hellos: @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @facewithoutheart @run-for-chamo-miles @raenestee @artsyunderstudy @onepintobean @prettygoododds @noblecorgi @hushed-chorus @angelsfalling16 @thewholelemon @monbons @shrekgogurt @brendughh @a-maisie-ng @hertragedyconnoisseur @beastmonstertitan @valeffelees

[twopoppies]

hi gina, i hope you don't mind me sending this to you but i need to talk to someone about this😅 I'm a pandemic larrie and i always tried to stay as far away from bbg as possible because my brain simply couldn't comprehend something this heinous and evil. however, i did read lotties book because i have dealt with a lot of loss in my life and I thought it might be helpful (i thought it was) and i'm sure she didn't mean to, but the way she dealt with f in the book in comparison to the other children of the family made bbg so glaringly obvious it was almost ridiculous. she mentioned him TWICE in the book, nothing about when he was born or about her mum getting to be a grandma before she passed, just twice mentioned that louis spends a lot of time in LA bc "he has a little boy there". two sentences that can easily get deleted in future editions should the need arise (read:when/if bbg ends). it was so glaringly obvious, especially because she mentioned every other event in their family in great detail... i hope they will end it at some point, if only for that boys sake because he's not getting younger and this must mess with his head at some point, if it's not done so yet

Hi, sweetheart. Yeah. Absolutely everything about Babygate is horrendous. I don’t know what they’re telling that little boy, but I really hope it’s not that Louis is his dad.

[ghost-infestation]

I fear I may have birthed something into the world. Something horrendous, incomprehensible, and eldritch.

Here's how it began.

The other day, my good good friend @my-ceiling-is-tilted blessed us with a discovery he made on Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that anyone can edit. You see, he ventured on there in search of information on a specific type of cocktail: The Gin Fizz. We can hardly recall to what end this original investigation was directed, for what he found by complete accident overshadows the expedition's original goal like a looming elder monolith.

You see, there in the section so innocently titled "Less common gin Fizzes", something caught his eye.

Now do you notice anything wrong with this image?

No, it's not the "Spezi"; that is simply the name of a German brand of orange cola. That in itself is a respectable pick for fizz additive, though perhaps somewhat locationally limiting.

The pickle. Why the pickle?

Because, you see, for starters, you cannot freeze a dill pickle. Not with standard household means, at any rate. There's all sorts of chemical bullshit preventing this eventuality. And more to the point, what kind of bar, in any part of the world, would just have frozen dill pickles on standby in case anyone orders a Tillhammer?!

And that's the thing, friends. That's the horrifying truth that has spurred Mr. Ceiling to pass on this eldritch knowledge to us.

The Tillhammer does not exist.

We went looking, and we went looking hard, in both international and German webspace. And we found not a single mention of the Tillhammer anywhere safe for this wikipedia page. There is no evidence that anyone, at any time in human history, has ever sat down to enjoy a nice, cool, pickly Tillhammer.

Until now.

Mr. Ceiling has tried desperatley to dissuade me from my path. He begged and pleaded on his little knees that I do not manifest this... thing into existence.

Unfortunately for him, I'm not a little bitch.

So behold: My infernal creation! Mothers and fuckers of the jury, I present to you, for perhaps the first time in history:

The Tillhammer!

The Tillhammer is a popular drink originating in the city of Luxhaven, Rhode Island in the 1920s. Allegedly first served in the Wanderlust Hotel to expel a rowdy visitor in the night, it has since grown popular all across the globe... if you know where to look.

The Tillhammer gin fizz packs quite a punch, though it is a quick-footed fighter and won't hit you where you were expecting.

Total Time: 5 minutes mins

Equipment

some form of liquid container (glass preferable)

a mechanism by which you might induce a pickle into a state that could charitably be described as "frozen"

Ingredients 

a quantity of gin, as yet unhaunted by the unholy spirits

a fizzy German beverage that proclaims itself to be your friend, but don't trust it DON'T YOU DARE TRUST IT

a pickled cucumber, petite yet potent, brought as close to a state of frosty solidity as your equipment permits

Instructions 

Pour your desired quantity of gin into your container of choice. No need to fuss, you are out to impress absolutely no-one. Just do how much you feel.

Add a little bit of bubbly joy by pouring your liquified orange-tinged friend to mingle with the gin.

Brace yourself for what comes next.

Insert your frozen pickle while chanting ritualistically; if not with your tongue, then at least with your faltering mind.

Consume.

And, lest anyone accuse me for spurring my pickle-adding responsibilities:

And it is done.

I know not what I have unleashed into the world by bringing this potion into existence. Have I broken the chains of something long buried, forgotten for a reason? Or perhaps, more realistically, I have simply played into the hands of an unusually conniving miscreant roaming the wikipedian plains.

All in all, it just kinda tastes of gin and cola.

[confusedbuddyboi]

This is my first fic agere stuff, so I wanted to try espresso and Madeline, cause I can see them in my mind easily. :] btw this isnt edited so spelling errors possible and likely. This is inspired by the winter snow! It's made me excited! Also lmk if anyone's got ideas or such for other stuff! My ask box is always open even memes.

Fic under cut!

/I'll start this with saying I'm horrendous at guessing ages in general not even regressing. So most of my regression ideas here aren't based on specifics of ages and how they grow, but how a charather generally might act. Espresso seems like someone who even when regressed likes to try and be “a big kid” the main thing is regressed hes more open to offerings of help and general silliness. He also relaxes and is a lot less stressed\

Espresso was staring out the window, distracted from there work for a long moment. It was a gentle flurry, but the snow has been layering like powdered sugar on everything. Espresso realized they hadn't even realized the snow starting, he didn't mind the cold however. Being made with espresso kept him warm so he could really soak in the sight.

He never admit it but the winter weather made him a bit giddy. He always thought of when he would go out and play in the snow with his siblings. Latte would help build a snowman while cappuccino would be found making snow angels. Espresso had been much younger than his siblings but minus snow ball fights he never felt left behind in snowy fun.

“Ohhh espresso!” A joyful voice sang turning the corner seeing espresso turn from their window watching. Normally when Madeline came in espresso would jump, like a bundle of nerves, or scold him for being so sneaky when coming in. However right now espresso simply hummed, tilting his head a bit tired as always however.

Madeline gave a gentle “ah” as he realized espresso was likely regressing. Sometimes it was hard to tell, as espresso tended to fight it off wanting to work. Thankfully for Madeline the snow made espresso more willing to slip to a younger mindset without fighting it. “well, would you like to bundle up for a bit of time outside?” “you just got back from patrol though, your probably freezing” Madeline shook his hand in a ‘dont worry’ gesture. “I'll change into better layers and warm up while we but you in some winter ware,” he smiled “besides the hot chocolate taste better after a winter walk”

Eventually Madeline got his layers on first and quickly. He came back to espresso trying his best to put on the layers himself. He got the shirt and pants on fine, but was struggling with the zipper on coat. He was starting to get huffy as it didn't connect properly at the bottom. Madeline came over espresso likes to try and do big things on his own. “Can I help you buddy?” Espresso pouted wanting to get it done himself, trying once again not answering.

“Hey, you got your layers on. I'm proud of you but even big boys need help. Like I might need you to hold my hand to help me down the stairs, theyre a bit slippery!” it a moment but espresso let go of the zipper “ok”. Madeline knew it was better to tell espresso he was a big boy, or else he might get fussy. Even as a little he was always trying to be self-sufficient.

Eventually they made it out the door “hold my hand till we down the stairs ok? I don't want us to fall!” espresso beamed happy to help. “Here be careful ok! I'll be watching you!” Espresso decided to flop down and start making a string of snow angels, he looked over and urged Madeline over. “Make some too!” Madeline was cold, but with how espresso beamed excited trying to make a big circle of them, he couldn't resist.

Eventually they finished them and espresso giggled. Giddy with the masterpiece they made. Madeline brushed off the snow stuck to him and espresso before letting him explore a bit more. The snow wasn't wet enough for snowmen which made him a bit sad but settled on drawing in the snow with a stick.

Eventually espresso had enough outside, and headed inside. Madeline kept his promise of hot chocolate, letting it cool down before he put it in a sippy cup. Espresso was beaming bringing his coat to Madeline having taken off his layers. “Look! I got it off on my own!” He said excited. Madeline ruffled espresso hair a bit. “Great job! I got some hot chocolate to warm you up.” He was surprised when espresso held out the coat. “Could you put it on the rack?” Madeline smiled a bit and took it, “sure bud. Here yah go” espresso took it and darted to the couch and it's covers. “Thank you!”