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wooboomoomoo · 6 hours
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A.B.A bites | Guilty Gear STRIVE
#gg
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wooboomoomoo · 7 hours
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lalanne calfskin sardines
@maschiio
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wooboomoomoo · 7 hours
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wooboomoomoo · 16 hours
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Sams Undertale
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wooboomoomoo · 17 hours
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wooboomoomoo · 18 hours
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wooboomoomoo · 21 hours
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sugarplum.
ship: briarbear -> carm/wednesday (s/I) wc: 1376 summary: briar introduces themselves to carm's coworkers for the first time.
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Richie barely looked up from his phone when he heard the door, still recouping from lunch rush. 
Probably some straggler, he thinks, and if they can be late to lunch, he can take a fuckin’ minute to take their order --
“Uh, hello?”
“Yo, what can we --” he pauses, chokes on the ice he's chewing as his eyes set upon them.
Their hair is pulled back, dark; this week it's dyed a deep plum color, ombre with peach that sets a highlight just about their cheekbones, where the few bright colored ends of their grown bangs that weren't tied back lay. The light dye popped especially against the minimal but dark makeup accenting their face, and that black sweater they wore…It was strangely familiar, but Richie could scarcely process the fact.
Had he half a mind, he'd ask if they're as sweet as they looked. But fortunately for them both, he was left utterly dumbfounded. 
“How can, uh, I help you?”
“Is Carmy here?”
“...Carmy?”
“Sorry -- Carmen?”
Richie shakes his head, “Nah, I know who you're talkin’ about, it's just --” he sighs, before turning his head towards the kitchen and letting out a very disappointed “Yo, cous!”
It's a moment before the vaguely annoyed “What, Richie?” comes back to him. 
“Got a minute?”
“Uh, not really.”
“Yeah, well, your services are requested at front of house, chef.”
“...What?”
Richie takes the time to let his gaze linger, stuttering a not-so thoughtful “Er --” before moving closer to the kitchen, or at the least out of earshot of the dining room.
“I mean, there's some hot piece of ass askin’ for you out there. Like, by name.”
“What the fuck -- ?” Carm groans, “Fine. I’ll be right there. Shit.”
He finishes dicing the smattering of vegetables on his cutting board and, then with a sigh wipes the sweat from his brow. It's hard to remember how hot the kitchen can get, and this thought is what claws its way to the forefront of his mind as a million other things begin to unfurl in the background of his brain; He's behind on prep, who the fuck could be asking for him? Gas bill’s due tomorrow. Speaking of gas, he needs to stop and get some on the way home. He’ll be late, he should probably take a minute and text --
He mutters a weak “Corner,” in the second it takes him to approach and round the deli bar doorway, and he tosses the towel he's wiping his hands on over his shoulder. When he peers past the counter though, his eyebrows raise, and he lets out an airy chuckle. 
“‘Scuse us for a minute, would you, cousin?”
Richie nods, shrugs, and barely moves an inch into the kitchen doorway. Carmy rolls his eyes and takes another step beyond into the dining room, head slightly hunched as they speak in hushed tones that the rest of the staff one at a time slowly gathers to strain to hear in curiosity. 
“Little busy, sweets.”
“I won't stay long. Just wanted to pop in, ‘sall.”
“No, I mean, I’m not sayin’ that, it's just…” he trails off, shakes his head, and pivots his thoughts, “I thought you had a thing today.”
“A thing? Like, you mean my job? Like, that thing?”
“Well, it's a thing.”
“A thing, yeah I guess it's a thing, but like, I get paid to do it, so…I mean, like --”
“Well, yeah. But I mean, how did it go?”
“Like an everyday kind of thing...It was fine. It was this morning. So, y'know...Now I’m here.”
They stare at each other for another awkward moment, though the embarrassment seems to lie more in Carmy than it does Briar, almost as if they’re reveling in it. Richie stifles a giggle.
“Anyways, you left without your key this morning. I just wanted to drop it off, in case I’m asleep tonight.”
Carm sighs, watching carefully as they dangle the lanyard in front of him, pooling the fabric into his hand when he finally extends it.
“I’ll be late, by the way.”
“Always are.”
“...Sorry.”
He looks at them. He knows that he should be tucking the loose strand of hair away from their face, telling them they look pretty today, especially in the cute outfit they've seemed to fashion out of his old torn black sweatshirt. He knows he should be making excuses, promising to do better but he doesn't, and he hopes that they understand that it's a promise he can't make, and that he'd rather not make it at all than break it. He knows he should be leaning in, and kissing them and reminding them how much he loves them, that he appreciates how patient they are, how attentive and forgiving they are to his appearing distance, perhaps more now that they lived in Chicago than when they had stayed behind in New York. He recounts every single shortcoming he can muster within himself, not of his own accord, and also dinner starts in about three hours, and he hears the ring of the timer he set for himself to do a walkthrough, and he has to temp all the coolers still and don't forget to check Mikey’s office for the address book in case it has anything in it and he should probably call back that guy about getting the lights in the back alley fixed and has anyone checked the chicken in the past thirty minutes? 
The brush of their skin against his draws him back, and in the moment his eyes dart down to where their hands touch, he realizes the weight of the cigarette carton in his other. He should offer to chat with them while he takes a break. He should take the ends of their hair between his fingers and compliment them, he doesn't want them to think he hasn't noticed it's changed color. He was observant, if nothing else. 
In his mind, he offers a plethora of compliments, “You look gorgeous today, sugarplum. Your hair looks great, pumpkin. I miss you, jellybean.”
The last stings all too well, burned into his memory by having typed it so frequently just not so long ago. 
Instead, he wraps his fingers around the house key, and pulls it gently until it's close enough to shove into his pocket. He searches their face for any sign of understanding, and he finds apology and sympathy instead. 
Because they didn't understand, and perhaps they never would. But they would again and again wait up two, three, four hours past midnight until they heard the front door open and shut, until they felt the warmth of him next to themselves in bed or found themselves otherwise chasing him down to the couch and sleeping there next to him -- Just so they could say they wake up to see his smile every morning. 
He looks down to the key, dangling from his pocket, and back to them.
“Thank you.”
“See you at home, teddy.”
“Seeya.”
“Didn't even offer me lunch? Tsk, damn, I see how it is,” his expression falters for a moment, and he almost begins to speak before they cut him off with a chuckle, “I’m fuckin’ with you, Carm.”
He almost smiles. They flick a stray crumb from his shirt with a wink before spinning and heading towards the door. 
They turn, catching one last glance at him.
“This place is homey, by the way. You should let me do a shoot here, sometime…Oh, and you can tell your friends my name is Briar!” 
They wave their fingers one last time before headed out back into the city. 
Carmy moves to retreat to the kitchen, nerves still burning where they'd touched him, the echoing sound of their voice in his mind grounding him before he can get too deep into his thoughts again. But when he looks back, he sees the mass of chefs crowded, peeking from the doorway. 
“The fuck, guys?”
“Briar's a fun name,” Tina smiles, “Caught a good one, Jeff.”
“Shit, yeah, don't let that one go.”
“Richie --”
“Not quite how I pictured them.”
“Syd -- You know, fuck all of you. Back to fucking work, please.”
The resounding chorus of “Yes, chef,” that greets his ears in reply has never sounded sweeter. 
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wooboomoomoo · 1 day
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wooboomoomoo · 1 day
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genuinely one of my favourite details about Bram Stokers Dracula that isn't really transferred to the pop culture is that vampires have irridescent eyes, they appear brown at a glance, however when light is reflected on them they seem to go red!
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wooboomoomoo · 1 day
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Devil May Cry 5 (2019)
Lady in Devil May Cry 5
#dm
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wooboomoomoo · 1 day
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wooboomoomoo · 2 days
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AJSJJDKSJD THE QUILTING SHOW MY GMA WANTS TO GO TO HAS A “FREE TICKET FOR UNDER 30s” IM!!!!! that’s SO funny ?? They wanna encourage young ppl SO much to get into quilting
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wooboomoomoo · 2 days
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why does this whole scene look & sound like a YTP
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wooboomoomoo · 2 days
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one more comic of my dunmeshi ocs ... they are not surviving the dungeon
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wooboomoomoo · 2 days
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wooboomoomoo · 2 days
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Auric! The og! He was the one I thought might dress similarly to Bennie were he dressed more casually, and had to make the decision to differentiate them by leaning farther into his more princessy and themed fits.
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wooboomoomoo · 2 days
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POST THIS BIRD‼️
#gg
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