#tina coins

[catboy-autism]

♡♡ Catmaxxed ♡♡

A gender in the gendermaxxed system for when your gender is catpilled and catmaxxed; you are catmaxxing.

Although the flag uses the catgender flag colors, you do not have to be catgender to use it

♡♡ Lovemaxxed ♡♡

A gender under the gendermaxxed system for when your gender is lovepilled and lovemaxxed; you are lovemaxxing.

[ID 1: A 7-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are pink, sky blue, purple, lavender, purple, sky blue, and pink. In the center is a dark purple 5-pointed star. ID End]

[ID 2: A 7-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are coral pink, pink, orangeish-yellow, pale yellow, orangeish-yellow, pink, and coral pink. In the middle of the flag is a red 5-pointed star with a pale yellow heart in its center. ID End]

[ID 3: A thin brown line, in the center of it is an orange tabby maine coon mix laying down, staring to the side of the viewer. ID End]

[ID 4: A rectangular banner. The border of it has a gradient of orange to pink. In each corner are 3 strawberries and 4 strawberry flowers. Within the border is a light tan rectangle with text. From top to bottom the different blocks of text read, in all caps: "Do not involve my flags or labels in discourse", this is colored red and underlined; "Anyone can use my flags and labels", this is also red; "But I do block freely", this is colored pink. There is a line of small cartoonish strawberries, each separated by little leaves. On the center bottom is a pink to orange gradient rounded rectangle. Within it is a red text in all caps that reads "This blog loves mspec gays and lesbians". On the left of the rectangle is the mspec lesbian flag and on the right is the mspec gay flag. On the left and right of the main rectangle are drawings of calico cats stretching. There are muddy paw prints scattered across the banner. ID End]

[blackoutdays13]

I’m ready to upload my subconscious into the crunchino verse

[royalarchivist]

Tina: I'm rich, rich! Nobody's gonna stop me.

Phil: Rich, I tell you! [Leans into the mic] 64 coins.

Tina: Rich! [The admins start taking the coins back] NOOOOO! Stop-you wouldn't, you wouldn't! No! Please! I was meant to be rich!

Phil: [Tries to get more coins out of the ATM] Ohhh, quickly, before it's too late!

Tina: I was made to be rich! You... you don't want to see women succeed, do you?

Phil: [Cracks up]

Tina: This is fine. I understand! Let the men be rich! Let Badboyhalo take it all in a week! I understand! Fine! Oh my god.... This is unbelievable. I deserve this money! I cheated the system fair and square!

[glass-noodle]

lab merman AU part 8! 💚💙

Word gets around. Tina and Gavin won't leave Hank alone. Connor follows Hank everywhere — almost like a partner — flashing him a goofy, toothy little grin whenever Hank catches his eye. Sometimes it seems like he's moving extra slowly and sinuously through the water, letting the light catch his scales and ripple off his fins as he twists and weaves gracefully. If Hank didn't know any better, he'd say the kid was showing off.

On their breaks, Connor barely seems interested in the fish that Hank brings anymore, preferring to haul himself onto the deck and bat those huge doe eyes at Hank until he starts talking to Connor, or plays a game of coin toss with him, or shows him more pictures of Sumo. Hank knows the situation's still not ideal — Connor's still trapped in a fucking tank, after all — but he can't help but feel better than he has in a long time. Connor makes him feel better.

(Bonus:)

[prev] Part 8 [next]

Taglist under the cut!

@dokidokisadness @extraordinaryandroid @dirty-droid @bluewolven @maddsmallow @aesthetichoney2111 @marilady @iwonderwh0 @rurousha @thatsgoodweather @famouswolflamppaper @clocks-declaring @shaed @binxwells @nothinggathers @treeffles @akakonight @djeris @timebird84 @averyshittyseal @jayfirebird @username-is-required @go-flow-bro @leelany-world @ray-the-orbiter @cosmogyral-cat @a-space-in-the-void @flitewulf @canofworms95 @fandomhell97 @toriisnerdy @reality-was-stolen @kibikikou @justsenarra @dickgraysonloml @celinamcm @zenithier @kibze @neverlet @idlebirdsparagon @nekojetto @unstablerk800 @fearlessjones @basenikon @brxnd0nur-1e @jei-rifni @isu0 @nota-deviant @leon-lemon0 @tartrazeen @ranunculus-bloom @katlakitty

Thank you so much for reading!! 🫶 All my love and hugs.

Feel free to let me know if you would like to be removed from the list at any point. If you would like to be on the taglist for this comic, please click here!

[nicestgirlonline]

Tell me a little more about Hot to go?

Thank you for asking!! It's one of my fanfic for The Bear, my less angsty and sad one haha. It takes place starting in S1 and the reader is a new front of house cashier. She’s very sweet and bubbly, offsetting the stressful environment of the Beef. She fits in like a little sister type to most of the others. I pictured her as an unlucky in love gal, always having a bad boyfriend or going on lame Tinder dates and it burns Carmy up inside but he’s too introverted/trying to stay focused on work to say anything. Of course eventually the jealousy gets to a breaking point ;)

Here’s an unedited snippet from it!

Carmy heard the yelling in the dining room over the bustle of the kitchen but it seemed wrong. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard you yell before, now like that at least. If Richie wasn’t right in front of him, goofing off with Tina, giving him a headache, he’d assumed it was him up front. He heard a clattering of something on the floor and a loud

He burst through the door to the register, “Yo, what’s going on here?” He immediately took in the scene. The large, red in the face man who was screaming at you, while there were coins all over the counter and ground.

“You the manager? She’s got a fucking attitude problem, she is mouthing off to customers willy nilly.”

“Don’t talk to my employees like that. Are you going to order or are you going to leave?” He quickly slid in front of you at the register, making sure he was between you and Mr. Karen.

“What the fuck is this kind of place? Whatever happened to the customer comes first?”

“That only applies to non assholes. It's on the wall.” He pointed to a faded sign that said “no assholes” that hung over the men’s room.

“Now you’re giving me lip, small fry? First this bitch now --”

It all happened at once, Carmy leaping across the counter to shove Mr. Karen to the wall, the rest of the guests scattering and shrieking at the sudden violence. Richie finally decided to poke his head out, baseball bat in hand, ready as backup. You ducked beneath the counter as the two of them removed the man.

You heard the jingle of the door. Richie spoke to the rest of the customers, trying to lighten the mood and assure them everything was back in order. He gave you a nudge with his foot when he took his place behind the register again.

“Take a fifteen kid,” He said softly. “Yo, next customer. Step up, let’s keep it going -”

You slunk to the back, to the small place by the dumpster where you knew you could be completely alone. You’d never been so rattled at a job before. You were ashamed you lost your temper, ashamed of how scared you’d felt, and embarrassed that you had such little control you needed your boss to kick out a customer for you.

You sat with your head in your hands, trying desperately not to cry. You could cry when you got home.

“Hey uh, you good?” Carmy poked his head out, he had his hand in his hair, not really making eye contact.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine…are you ok? I’m really sorry about all of that. ” He let out a half chuckle, half sigh.

“It was nothing.”

“Richie grabbed a bat.” you pointed out. He rolled his eyes and took a seat on the curb next to you.

“So look, next time if a customer is giving you trouble and you can’t handle it, just come and get me ok?” He leaned in close to you, his big blue eyes sucking you in.

“I’m going to handle my shit I promise. I mean it, I can handle a rude customer. He just started to fly off the handle over nothing and I’m sorry I couldn’t de-escalate”

“Don’t apologize for customers. I know they’re mostly assholes.”

“He was right though.”

“Huh?”

“It is weird we have spaghetti on the menu.”

Carmy laughed. You started to laugh too.

“I do agree with that. I have no idea what Mikey was thinking with that one. Might have to take it off the menu, to keep my cashiers safe.” He grabbed a cigarette from his apron and offered you one. You shook your head. His mouth twisted for a moment, then he lit his own.

That was the first time he had ever brought up Mikey in front of you. You knew a little bit about the story, Mikey used to own the place before Carmy. Nobody really liked to bring it up and you weren’t looking to pry. You knew it was his brother.

The two of you sat in silence while Carmy smoked. You didn’t feel like crying anymore and you were grateful for that.

[soulc-hilde]

Money, Money

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x OFC! Caden

Synopsis: No longer about her future, Caden spirals as the rug is once again pulled from underneath her feet. Living her days in a silent shell, she forces herself into her work. Noted as the restaurant's Mute Pâtissier, the stuttering eyes of her boss always finds themselves attached to her. Studying her. Like some animal in the wild.

Divider By @strangergraphics-archive

Mindlessly stepping into the kitchen from the back door, Caden was ignorant of her surroundings as she fumbled to take the helmet from her head. Freed at last, she fans one of her gloves over her flushed face when the sound of something boiling catches her ear. She turns around, lidded eyes stare at the unconscious body of Carmen. She quietly sighs, walking over, and gently lifts his right leg onto the bench beside his left one.

It's uncomfortable to lie like that, she justifies to herself.

The baker walks over to the locker room and begins to remove her jacket, swapping the green and black bike gear for the blue apron that lays on top of her white graphic ‘Eat My Boot’ shirt. As she leaves the corner, the bell rings at least two times. Heading for the door, Carmen jumps up behind her, a frazzled reenactment of The Undertaker.

His dazed eyes take a few to focus, squinting at the blurred figure strutting for the door. He hops to his feet, walking behind as the door opens. His eyes rest on Caden as the morning light lays across her face, onyx eyes turn into a warm brown similar to the chocolates she’d melt for her desserts. Curly, blonde edges peak from underneath the green bandana. He watches as she looks down at the cooler, face blank and unimpressed, but forced to take it anyways.

He snaps out of it, stepping closer.

“What’s that?” He rhetorically asks, glaring down at the blue cooler.

She sighs, “25 pounds of meat. He says, we couldn’t even afford half of what we needed.” Carmen shakes his head, “no, no, no – Fuck!”

“That’s what I said,” she sighs, pulling the tub with her to the kitchen. “There has to be a way… a, a mistake, maybe?”

Caden shakes her head, “call Lu, see what she says. If anything, she’s probably so far in debt with Mikey, there are no more loopholes.”

With that she steps into the walk-in, begrudgingly putting away the meat onto shelves taller than her. In the meantime, Carmen rushes into the office to call Luanne in hopes she’d at least give him this one chance.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. “yeah, yeah, yeah. No, no. No, Luanne that’s, that’s… that’s really nice of you.” He pauses as she speaks, “uh-huh.”  

“Yeah. No, no, w-we’re really grateful to still be open after everything. Yeah, so listen, I, um… I’m still tryin’ to figure this place out, ya know, see how Michael was doing everything and I wanna get yer money. Yeah, yeah, no. Uh, I miss him, too. Yeah. Okay.”

“No, it’s good. Yeah, yeah. Okay. Thanks, anyway. Yeah, yeah, yeah. A’ight. Bye.” He hangs up, tossing the phone across the office.

Stewing with his thoughts and the obnoxious, old ass arcade games, he stands up. “Fuck!”

He marches for the games, “shut up!” He goes to pull at the overcrowded outlet extension. Tina charges after him, “no, no, no. Puta! Don’t unplug it.”

He stops, rubbing the center of his forehead with the back of thumb. “I know what that means, Tina.” She continues. “You unplug it, it won’t work again.”

Caden appears in the doorway behind the woman. “Guessin’ the call didn’t go good,” she sighs. He simply shakes his head in response, eyes catching the coin slots of the machines. He points, “when was the last time you emptied these?”

The women shrug, “don’t know.”

Carmen rushes to grab the key, opening each one, emptying the mounds of coins into buckets. Caden’s eyebrows raise as she watches. He turns to her, the ocean meeting the black sand.

She shrugs, “it’s not much, but it gets us goin’.”

She leaves, returning to help Marcus in the bakery. Well, more like do everything three times faster as he still has a bit to comprehend in terms of pacing. On the other hand, Carmen’s face stretches with a small corner smile, racing into the kitchen as he prepares one of the chucks of meat with his Japanese knives. Pot heated, ready for the red meat to drop within its cave.

Carmen trims the chuck of its fat with gloved hands and throws it away, he then seasons the meat before setting it to the side. He prepares the carrots, cutting them in halves before taking one and dicing it. Tina watches from over his shoulder, smirking, “you cut vegetables like a bitch.”

“Don’t wipe your hands on your apron, Chef,” he simply responds. Tina stops behind him, turning around, “Jeff?” “Chef.”

Unbeknownst to him, Caden watches from the corner of her eye, a subtle smile painting her round face. Like a tiny mad genius, she huffs.

He shakes some extra virgin olive oil across the bottom of the steel skillet before placing the meat inside, pressing down gently to start that nice brown sear as the oil hisses. Flipping the meat onto the other side after about five, ten minutes at the most, he flips it. The slightly charred meat with cooked remnants of seasoning practically sparkles against the yellow artificial light of the kitchen.

In another pan, he sautés some chopped onions, swirling them on a low-medium fire with a wooden spoon to prevent them from burning. He then adds in the diced carrots as well as celery with the onions, after a while of cooking those down, he adds in the tomatoes and beef stock, allowing it to boil. After bringing down the heat, he adds into a deep pan and coats the seared beef chuck with the sauce.

He covers the top with tinfoil, tidying up the edges and slides onto the top rack of the oven and letting it slow cook until they open for service. With his moment to breathe, he leans against the counter with a slouch, glancing at the clock.

10:25 a.m. He’s got some time to give Chi-Chi that jean jacket.

Caden was preparing another tray of honey buns and setting another on the rack to cool when Marcus glances at her. “How in the hell do you do that?”

“I’m sorry, what?” She looks back from the cooling rack, pulling down the protectant sleeve to keep them shielded from any contaminants.

“Like, how are you so fast?” He asks again, looking down at the raw down that lies flat and pathetic underneath his huge hand. “The mixer’s a piece of shit and broken, but when you do it, it’s as if you’re hands are the mixer… if that makes sense.”

She stares at him, “Marcus, kid, not a lot of shit you say, makes sense, but that’s okay.” She goes to wash her hands, speaking over the water.

“At first, I wanna say it’s all about experience. Regardless, if you went to culinary school like Car or if you’ve just worked within the food industry all your life.”

Hands wet and clean, she turns them upwards, digits facing the ceiling as she turns and grabs three paper towels with a pull and tear. She pats dries her hands before balling it between her fingers and using the material to turn off the water and tossing it into the trash bin. Rather than bouncing off the inner wall, the ball soars in a perfect arch, landing center on the empty trash bin.

“But, it’s more than that,” she continues, beginning to work on forming the next round of rolls.

“You need to find a repetition. A form of discipline that works with you. Not for, but with. Without that repetition, your skills become dull, or they become stagnant. You never progress.”

She lightly showers the cutting board with flour, covering the small ball of dough. She sets the cup beside her left and begins to roll with a circular motion, until it stopped sticking to the wooden board. Using the heels of her palms, she pushes the dough forward before picking up the top with her fingers and pulling it back down, molding it with the rest.

And the cycle repeats. Flour. Roll. Push. Pull. And finally, she places the collection on the parchment paper that lines the steel baking sheet. She covers them with another parchment paper and then two kitchen towels to let them rise.

“Once you create that rhythm, you begin to enter a flow. Whether that means you get lost within your work, you feel at ease – confident, or you learn somethin’ new along the way, you’ve made yourself a home within your space. Just like when you first came in, you were overwhelmed, felt like you were intruding, all that goes out the window.”

Marcus nods, a small smile of understanding brightens his face. She points at the shelves of dry and momentarily ingredients that were stored and labeled.

“That’s my system. Everything I do follows a system and no, it’s not like whatever fuck shit Tina and ‘em be doin’. Okay? That right there is Mikey and Richie’s mess that Car is now forced to fix. But here, in my bakery? Boy, yuh gonna learn somethin’ and yuh betta stick wit’ it cause I’on’t play.”

He laughs, nodding. “I got you, Chef. I got you.” She nods, eyes light with amusement, “ye hearin’ me?” He nods, “I hear you.”

She holds her hand out. He dabs her up and the two go back to the rolls. Marcus struggling while Caden empties the ovens and refills them with new trays.

Entering the kitchen, a woman stops, looking lost. She turns to the duo with a small smile, “uh, hi,” she waves. “I’m Sydney, I’m here to do an interview for the stagging position.”

Caden nods, shutting the oven. “Nice to meet you, Sydney. I’m Caden, the Head Baker. You’ll be speaking with the boss, Carmen. Follow me.” The two walk to the back of the dish room.

As they reach the back where Carmen’s voice echoes, conversating with someone of the phone, Caden sends a gentle knock. He hangs up, turning around. His face red and painted with lines of exhaustion lightens, his cerulean eyes meeting Caden’s dark ones. “Hey,” he breathes.

“Howdy,” she drawls. Her warm eyes softened at him, silently checking in. He nods in response, “yeah, yeah.”

She nods, gesturing to the young woman beside her. “This is Sydney Adamu, the new hire for the stagging position, I told you about.”

Carmen nods, “I remember. Yeah, thank you.” She nods, backing out, eyes staying on him, “always.”

Y'all, we got Syd the Chef in here, let's go! I'm also kind of soft for Caden and Carmen but that's a whole other discussion

Taglist: @spiderstyles04 @lostinwonderland314

[brittie-frog]

Today was brilliant:

- Bagi giving up her day off to celebrate Em's 100 days

- their outfits - I imagine it's something that drunk Tina asked for in the admin chat about a little special outfit for her

- Bagi flying, the dragon wings and the comments from Tina about it

- the Hatsune Miku statue... crying

- museum!!! So much bagi/breakfast family and Demon Lore!!

- Tina finally getting on, also in a hanbok, and mentioning she hasn't been home and Bagi having a moment of realisation of what she'd left (reminiscent of when she remembered leaving the date ask when she day Tina)

- them lying about Em picking up the string first to make her feel better but she's already smart and also she has chat open so she definitely knows it's the book

- Pepito getting the ritual and Roier (Doied?) Wanting to do it too and instead coaxing Pepi to pick up the money because he only had 3 coins...

- the money shots in front of the atm with warp stones and diamonds - definitely the Pancake Mafia

- the lightning strikes and Tina leaving and Em still holding out on telling her but saying that if she just waits for Tina to talk she'll never - this is a detective she's definitely figured it out like she said

The only thing that could have made it better was if Tina was streaming so we could see the convos she had with Em when Bagi left and the panic on her face when Bagi just went to buy her the warp stone but understandable she was short on time so no real point

[x-bee-x]

Tina just ran up to Pac crying.

"Tina, you did it, you got the coin!"

"I know, that was so scary, but what's the point, Bagi's out!"

[ultra-raging-ghost]

I saw someone on here talking about how tina needs to read a book on demon deals and im pointing her SO HARD towards bbh he just sold foolish 2 avocados for a thousand coins and got a speed 14 horse for basically free how the fuck did he do that

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Which royal books/biographies do you think are the most accurate?

Honestly, I don’t think you can judge. They’re all problematic and it comes down to the author’s bias towards their subject.

Scobie and Morton are the worst. They let their subjects ghostwrite.

Tina Brown and Lady C are gossipy, but they have good society connections. Sally Bedell Smith also has society connections but I don’t think she’s as gossipy.

Tom Bower does good research and he digs up a lot of stuff, but it’s never as scandalous as he hints it is so it’s a bit of a let down.

Robert Hardman recaps a lot of popular stories with little new commentary or reveals. I haven’t read his new Charles 3 biography yet, though it’s sitting on my shelf.

I can’t take Katie Nicholl seriously because she coined “Waity Katie” and completely denies that she did.

[catboy-autism]

♡♡ Tulipkin ♡♡

I have never seen any flags for tulipkin, so here is my proposition for it ! :33

For plantkins or otherkin or swagever who kin tulips of any color

Flag colors inspired by common tulip colors, the middle green stripes are taken from this plantkin flag

[ID 1: A 10-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are pinkish-red, rose pink, orange, greyish-white, pale green, sage green. greyish-white, pale yellow, rose pink, and pinkish-red. In the center are 3 white silhouettes of tulips. ID End]

[ID 2: A 10-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are pinkish-red, rose pink, orange, greyish-white, pale green, sage green. greyish-white, pale yellow, rose pink, and pinkish-red. ID End]

[ID 3: A 10-striped flag. From top to bottom the colors are pinkish-red, rose pink, orange, greyish-white, pale green, sage green. greyish-white, pale yellow, rose pink, and pinkish-red. In the center is a slightly transparent white circle, on top of it is a black colored otherkin star. ID End]

tagging: @radiomogai

[ID 4: A thin brown line, in the center of it is an orange tabby maine coon mix laying down, staring to the side of the viewer. ID End]

[ID 5: A rectangular banner. The border of it has a gradient of orange to pink. In each corner are 3 strawberries and 4 strawberry flowers. Within the border is a light tan rectangle with text. From top to bottom the different blocks of text read, in all caps: "Do not involve my flags or labels in discourse", this is colored red and underlined; "Anyone can use my flags and labels", this is also red; "But I do block freely", this is colored pink. There is a line of small cartoonish strawberries, each separated by little leaves. On the center bottom is a pink to orange gradient rounded rectangle. Within it is a red text in all caps that reads "This blog loves mspec gays and lesbians". On the left of the rectangle is the mspec lesbian flag and on the right is the mspec gay flag. On the left and right of the main rectangle are drawings of calico cats stretching. There are muddy paw prints scattered across the banner. ID End]

[lilliancdoodles]

Bagi telling Tina that she will give her all of her coins <33

[answer2jeff]

narrow thoughts // carmen berzatto

part one: sprite

finally done with part 1! somewhat happy ending in part 2 btw, since i don't totally hate you guys or want you to suffer for once

synopsis: you and carmen were good friends turned strangers — the trauma bond from Noma still keeping you closer. you've noticed Carmen's hard work, and you worry terribly for him and his wellbeing. keeping quiet has never been so hard; being "friends" has never been so hard.

pairings: platonic!richie x reader – romantic!carmy x reader

english isn't my first language — expect some mistakes. feedback is always appreciated.

WARNINGS: friends - strangers - lovers, angst, fluff, NOT an established relationship, pre-existing history, ZERO use of y/n, reader is implied female, mention of the nickname "Pico," short for "Piccola" ; small (young), or even baby, in italian.

wc: 2.1k

You twisted the silver key at an angle, locking the glass door shut — the 'CLOSED' sign taunting you. You and your pre-existing staff expected to open in just 6 weeks, and you still felt like so much time lingered. The emptiness of the sidewalk made your stomach drop to your feet, the same way it did every night. You waited so impatiently for the opening day of your coffee shop to inch closer and closer; but you were uncertain, unsettled, and lacking confidence in your craft. Was simplicity really the answer? Should you have just stayed in New York? Were you just another, "Eleven Madison Park Dickhead?" Did you even want answers to these looming questions? No. No you didn't — not yet. All you wanted that night was a glass of homemade sprite, and maybe a real conversation with an old friend.

Maybe he'd know what to say, if anything at all.

So, you walked. And you walked, and you walked, and you kept walking — your dark blue crewneck sweater that went just past the belt line of your baggy jeans, a pair of pantyhose, white socks, and Doc Martens keeping you clothed in the Chicago cold. Your bracelets clanged against each other, harmonizing with the sound of the keychains jingling against your purse, clutched close to your sides. You finally reached the The Beef, the florescent glow casting a blueish green shine against your face. Another 'CLOSED' sign pointed a childish finger at you.

"Richieeee!" You wined, gently knocking on the glass window to grasp his attention — his back turned to you as he was telling Tina and Marcus yet another story about Carmen's childhood. You almost regretted being nice to him, but it gave you leeway; visiting after hours, special treatment, and even the nickname 'Pico' was coined after you.

"Richie, I know you can hear me!"

"Yeah, and he goes—" Richie reluctantly paused, hearing a familiar voice from behind the glass. His hands, frozen in the air, fell to his sides as he dramatically walked over to the door. "Shit, hold on. Pico's here." He groaned, slowly unlocking and cracking the door open, moving out of your way to let you in.

"Thanks." You breathed, crossing your arms as you took a step into the restaurant — immediately met with smiles and good night's from Marcus and Tina. Your eyes darted around the cramped space of the counter, not quite being able to see into the kitchen as you stepped closer to take a seat in a red barstool.

"What're you doin' here? You alright, sweetheart?" Richie asked, his tone only slightly annoyed from the interruption of his attempt to humiliate Carmen. He waltzed behind the counter, supporting his weight by pressing his palms against the metal as he stood across from you. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering — completely disregarding Tina and Marcus clocking out and leaving for the night.

"Yeah, just uh — my stomach hurts. Like, bad." You sighed, sticking your elbows up onto the counter and resting your face in your hands, the stool next to you occupied by your purse. Richie only nodded his head, noticing your mouth slightly gaped open like you had more to say. Even if he was a childish asshole, he wasn't evil. He'd never interrupt someone who was clearly in need.

"And–and i'm just... payin' a visit, I guess." You tried justifying your reasoning for coming all this way. It was 9:47, and you hardly ever came around this late. Typically, you'd lock up by 9:15, come over and stick around till 9:30, and be home by 10:45. You must've needed something, he thought, but he chose not to pester you tonight.

Please don't ask.

"Alright.. Yeah, 'ya look a little green. You wanna sprite?" Richie gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead, just reassuring you didn't have a fever. You nodded your head in approval. He walked into the kitchen, shouting "COUSIN! Pico wants a sprite! Make it for 'er, will 'ya?"

Carmen shut his locker as he nodded his head to Richie, mumbling, "be right there." He bit the inside of his cheek, his lips curling into a smile when he saw you through the tiny peak between the counter and the kitchen that you were too far from to experience. Admittedly, Carmen liked seeing you come in — bringing coffee for everyone in the mornings, and wishing everyone goodnight in the evenings. It gave him something to look foreword to. He liked the consistency; and hell, he fucking loved the blonde espresso macchiato you conjured up for him, the foam just a tad bit flat from having to travel on foot from the cafe to the restaurant with it.

You scrolled on your Instagram timeline as you heard Carmen mumbling to himself as he made your sprite, noting the clinking of ice against a glass cup and the crisp sound of the homemade soda pouring in. You gave Richie an air-kiss on the cheek goodbye as he walked out of The Beef, his lanky frame covered by his leather jacket. You smiled again at the sight of Carmen politely delivering your drink, putting your phone away in the pocket of your jeans.

"Why thank you!" You cooed, looking into his big, blue eyes that didn't really know what to focus on. You took in every feature: his curly dirty-blonde locks in need of trimming, his big and arched nose, the round shape of his chin. You were staring, your stare never leaving his figure as he set the glass down on the counter, and he couldn't help but smile back.

He was perfect — it was almost scary.

"Pleasure." Carmen chuckled, placing a warm hand on the back of his neck as he thought of what else to say. He couldn't remember the last time you two were alone. The closest thing was him coming over to your apartment in broad daylight to help you get rid of the green, god awful futon in your living room that was covered in weird stains.

"You've got a weird definition of pleasure." You sighed, raising your glass to your lips and feeling the sprite ease your stomach. Your eyes rolled when you heard his obnoxiously attractive laugh; breathy and nervous.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Carmen nodded his head, essentially saying "you're right, but respectfully — fuck off" without actually saying it. He picked his head up, watching your throat contract with each sip — the neon lights all around the restaurant displaying a purple glow against your skin. It was childish, but knowing he could make your night just a little bit better with a glass of sprite made him proud of himself.

"You feelin' alright? As best as you can, I mean." You set your glass down, resting your face in your palms as you blinked at Carmen, your eyebrows knitted in concern. You worried for him, no matter how much your brain reassured you that they grey crescents under his eyes were none of your concern. It was normal to never get more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep every night as an overworked 34 year old, right? It's a Carmy problem, right?

No. Fuck no.

"Uh... yeah, I—" Carmen's hands gripped tightly against the cold, metal counter, his foot tapping against the tile floor. He bit the inside of his cheek, diverting his gaze away from you and back towards the walkway into the kitchen. He was lying, and you knew it. He felt his chest heave at the question as he forced himself to look at you again; your face still expressing a sense of panic for him.

"You..?" You finished his empty sentence for him, getting a little impatient. Your manicured nails clicked against the counter, waiting for him to tell at least some fragments of the truth.

"No, not alright. Not really. I, um—" He paused again, his eyes finally locking with yours, completely unable to pull away now. You looked beautiful to him — elegant, even. With your hair messier than the way you styled it this morning, with your chipped and grown out manicure, and especially with your lack of knowledge that Carmen was analyzing every inch of you. He felt guilty for looking - more than he usually did.

"I've been having those weird fuckin' dreams again. A-and these panic attacks, I think?" Carmens voice went softer, a whine of fear in his speech; he finally let his guard down just a bit. It was like just looking at you calmed him down enough so he could choke out another sentence.

"Shit. Still?" You asked, your nails pausing their annoying clack and tap so you could focus all of your attention onto Carmen. You remembered Natalie mentioning Carmen's recent manifestations of his stress, often asking if you'd just check up on him every once in a while, just in case she couldn't reach him.

"Yeah." Carmen replied, his voice airy and unsupported. His eyes were blue and desperate, and fixated on every part of your face. It made his thoughts narrow down to you; your weird sense of humor, your artful hands that illustrated your frustration when you complained about your day, even the perfume you wore every day that lingered around the jacket you left at his apartment (which he still hasn't given back to you.) Why would he? How could Carmen not keep a piece of you in his home?

You finally caught Carmen's gaze as you grazed the condensation on your glass of sprite — and you could see it in his face; the exhaustion, the anxiety, the need for stability in his eyes. You saw what this place did to him; what fixing this hellhole turned him into for a second time. It felt silly, controlling, nagging even, for you to assume that Carmen couldn't handle himself. But maybe that wasn't too unfair of an assumption; even if Sydney tried to condition you to believe that not every Carmy problem had to be a you problem.

"Jesus. I'm sorry." You clenched your teeth as you thought about his nausea spells he'd get every morning, remembering the dozens of empty bottles of pepto bismol littered around the kitchen counter of his apartment in New York. It was like you could still feel the sting of stomach acid your throat when you ended up puking every night after dinner rush; your digestive system completely empty from the lack of time you even had to keep your body intact. And yet, it was fucking everything. Your calloused fingers from the knives and the rasp in your throat from crying felt like a trophy; a mark on your person that forever reminded you of how great you once were.

What were you even doing here? Opening another thrift shop? But this time, it had a built in cafe; a cafe you dreamed of serving the best coffee in Chicago? Wow! What an original, realistic and inspiring concept. Like Richie warned the two of you: neither of you had any idea what you were doing back in Chicago.

Is it too late for me to understand you?

"Is this even.. I don't know — fun, for you anymore? Was it ever?" You croaked, tracing the tip of your middle finger along the rim of the glass — watching the little bubbles in the drink rise and pop. The question almost struck a nerve in Carmen, it forced him to think; really think.

"I mean... 'fun' isn't the word I'd use." He shrugged his shoulders, his face contorting into that typical confused look he always gave you. It made your heart ache.

"I don't like what it does to you."

"I'm– I'm trying to... to do somethin' here, Pico." His eyebrows knitted as his hands gripped just a little tighter against the counter.

"I know, Carmy. A-and you're doing great I just– I miss you." You barely whispered, crossing your arms almost trying to defend yourself as Carmen's face softened. His stomach dropped to his feet, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You two hadn't had a real conversation since the night you decided to quit, leaving Carmen to chase his success and even become Food & Wine's best chef without you. You hadn't cried in front of him since the day after Mikey's funeral: which neither of you could bring yourself to attend to. You'd been back home much longer than Carmen had; him coming home was so bittersweet. You needed him here. You needed him in the warm glow of your apartment, on your vintage couch as you shared the leftover pasta carbonara you made the night before. You forgot what his arms felt like around you, trying so hard to remember as you glanced at his tattoos.

"I miss you too."

TO BE CONTINUED BITCHESSSSSS!!!!!!

[kadextra]

tina found an infinite money glitch if you shift click the ATM with a coin and then an invis admin punched her and broke the ATM 😭😭😭

[wildpeachfarm]

ouu in addition to what you said, something else that irritated me was dream saying he wanted someone who would take it seriously and specifically requesting he not be teamed with connor, and scott doing it anyways. im pretty sure it was the tina + foolish team too, the team with the lowest amount of average team coins ever(not in event but based on their averages from previous events). and its not just dream, im so mad for tina because she left both events thinking she was a deadweight and never returned when in reality both of her teams were on the weak side. i have a lot of issue with how mcc handled balancing and "nerf" players.

Oh yes I remember this! I remember feeling so bad for Tina because they only used her as a nerf and it made her so discouraged in her skills and I’m sure that was just a horrible feeling all the time :(

[luminouslotuses]

no but this conversation with foolish and tina is so interesting man! foolish saying he’s fine playing this game on the island and wanting to see if he can find a way to beat it & tina saying that the more she knows about all of the dark secrets n shit on the island makes her feel worse. in the end, though, they both want to stay here.

something something two sides of the same coin