#c. diego

[hallcw]

open  to  all. where:  back  room  of  the  small  bar,  with  a  very  nice  white  wall  and  a  great  wine  selection. afternoon.

"It's  a  type  of  helminth,  a-a  worm."  for  the  longest  time  they  believed  the  parasite  to  be  strictly  a  new  type  of  protozoa.  There  were  over  65,000  known  protozoa's  before  the  hallow,  a  simple  mutation  was  enough  to  open  the  floodgates  to  a  whole  lot  more.  "It  explains  the  host  manipulation  once  embedded.  There  is  a  branch  of  larvae  that  alters  the  behaviour  of  the  host  to  make  them  more  susceptible  to  predation.  Whatever  helminth  we're  fuckin'  with  took  larvae's  idea  and  ran  with  it."  more  worrying  than  that  was  the  lifespan  of  a  single  helminth,  and  how  effective  they  were  at  keeping  their  hosts  alive  --  a  smarter  and  far  more  intricate  system  than  a  rapid-fire  virus.  "We  used  to  think  that  a  simple  upgrade  on  metronidazole  or  chloroquine  or...benzimidazoles  and  praziquantel  would  sort  the  issue  and  I  mean,  we  tried  we  really  did  its  not  --  what  I'm  trying  to  get  at  is,  I  need  this  room.  You  can  stay  and  uh,  keep  these  drinks  comin'  or...y'know,  go  find  a  different  one."  it  mattered  little  to  him,  if  he'd  had  company  or  not.  He  lifted  up  the  bottle,  perfectly  preserved.  "Decoy,  '97. You in or out?"

[cintasvel]

[uwingdispatch]

Hi friends! Happy Tuesday! I’m working on some fun new things for hopefully soon! But in the mean time I packed orders last night and thought it would be fun to share your Star Wars faves from the shop this weekend. Don’t forget, use code TUMBLR15 at checkout for 15% off most accessories. Shop is here. <3

[stoat-party]

[oflovrs]

She nods a bit, her demeanor softer under the faint hum of the music shifting tempo. “I am.” She adds, as if it’s certain. Then he asks if she can try something, and she’s hesitant a little at first— until he asks if she would do it for him, and something in her stirs. It’s alive, not like a wire or warmth. It’s subtle, just lingering beneath the surface of her chest, snuck beneath a few of her ribs that’d they’d given to create more. But she lingers, and then she nods again. There’s a faint shift of their feet, and he twirls her just to pull her in closer. She’s not sure what he’s going to ask, but she can hear the faint thrum of hesitancy in his voice. Like he was weighing out how to say it, or maybe how to ask it. Whether he should. When he finally does, her gaze blinks back at him. “It feels like..” The words drift off a little, and she’s unsure. She’s uncertain of a lot. “Have you ever had a really vivid dream? Like, you’re living it. And it’s so vivid, and feels so real, that when you wake up— you feel as if it was. You feel, scared or you miss it, like it was something you lived. Something that was taken. As if, you lived another life in your sleep. And then reality starts to flicker away that feeling, and it feels like.. not you.. but also not entirely a dream.” She’s not sure if she’s making sense. “I don’t feel like a continuation.” There’s a breath. “I feel like I knew her. Like she was a part of me, but not entirely. I remember.. what it felt like to be in love.. I remember what it felt like to have children.. and how it feels like it’s not mine. Not really. But I also feel like.. she liked things, that I don’t. She wanted things, that I didn’t. Some things she had, I want. So— I don’t really know what that means.” Or if it answers his question at all.

They’re a little closer now, and his voice pulls her back to the topic now changing slightly. His laugh lulls her from all her thoughts, and her gaze shifted to the way his eyes slightly crinkled when he did. And he asks what she thinks of him, and she shakes her head a bit. “No, not at all.” She answers honestly. “I think you care about things you believe in, loudly.” Whether his voice was quiet, or blunt, it didn’t matter. “I think we’re pretty similar in that way, actually.” The truth of the matter is, she doesn’t have a lot to go on. She has their conversations. She has the long hours spent listening and watching. And she knows— one thing for sure— he was one of the few that didn’t treat her like she was a means to end end. Like she was only here with the purpose of one thing. The cure. Whether that was intentional on his end, or just the simple fact of being left in close quarters together— or if it was just her, entirely. She doesn’t know. But she knows that she feels a little warmer when he’s around, in comparison. She knows that she hates tea, but drinks it anyways so that he’ll stay and talk a little longer.

“If.” She says with a small smile curling into the corner of her lips, because she doesn’t believe for a second, that he believes that. But she doesn’t press, or try to force it, or make him see anything. Who was she to talk about souls, anyways? He shifts, her eyes were over his shoulder as she wasn’t looking at anything in particular. But his hands coax hers upwards, arms over his shoulders and her chest stammers quickly. Quicker than she thought it would have, considering. She hadn’t expected the warmth, or the slight hum of pink on the tops of cheeks or bridge of her nose. They’re closed now, his hands coax hers shifts down to her waist, and she feels suddenly— a benign flutter in her chest. No, a buzzing. Like humming birds. He talks about a book, and her gaze can’t help but flicker over to him. Listening intently this time— not speaking as she tries to steady the newfound rhythm in her heart’s drum. “It sounds like a good book..” She says faintly, they’re close enough now that she doesn’t need to speak very loudly.

Her eyes find his again, and her arms were loosely around his shoulders, and she looks away— only briefly, as if her thoughts were chasing his words trying to keep up. Muscle memory causes her hands to gently clasp together, against the nape of his neck where they briefly, ever so slightly, brush against dark curls that lingered there. Not intentionally, but it might as well have been. She shifts back to him, feeling the intense lull of his gaze, or his smile, that has her matching his. The corners of her mouth shift, kissing the edges of a smile that brightens up dark irises. “Why not? Can I not bend the rules for my own gain?” Her voice is teasing now, barely playful and soft. But then he asks where she would begin, and she shakes her head a little. “It’s hard to think about.. because .. I wouldn’t be here if the world hadn’t ended..” There’s a quietness in her voice now. “Sometimes I think of what I would have been like, before. I would want to begin in.. New York. I’d want to see the city alive. Feel it moving around me. I’d want to meet someone, and get my heart broke just to feel it, and then fall in love again because you just can’t help it.” The words linger a bit. “Maybe when we fix the world, I can go to the beach, and see the ocean. I’d really want to see the ocean.” She decides, planning for after they saved a world she didn’t destroy. Her gaze shifts, and her throat bobs just an inch. The closeness was almost palpable now. “Where would you put me in yours?”

She doesn’t quite mean to, but her fingertips gently padded circles against the nape of his neck, against where curls had no business being gently threaded through fingertips absentmindedly. “Do you ever think about what you’ll do after?” After the fire, after the cure, after everything has fallen apart just to be rebuilt again. “Would you study again?” Her voice curious, soft. “Would you go somewhere else?”

Happiness is subjective. If they knew that he was sitting here, discussing the meaning of life and people and what drives them, what they feel, they might call him mad. She suspects he’s been thrown words around like crazy, all his life. In theory, she remembers a childhood. She remembers a small town, and falling in love with a boy when she was sixteen. She remembers getting married, and having her first child. She remembers the morning sickness, and the feeling of something growing inside of her. But when her hand briefly touches her stomach, unmarred and untouched— she knows it’s not hers. And there’s a deep ache there, like a mother without a child. A mother, without something to love. And God, did she have enough of it. So much warmth inside her, that it pillowed at her fingertips, and spilled over. And yet, she was alone here. Except for him— and the others, a young solider who one day never came back.

Some days, Ronald will let her sit outside the chambers where the others were. Sometimes, she would talk to them. One in particular, she would read to. C05 — a young woman who Ronald said was the likely going to be the last of them to wake up. He wouldn’t tell her much more about her, only from what Esme could imagine. But she looked so young, and timid in dreams, like she was just sleeping. Waiting. And while Esme doesn’t remember being in the chamber, she doesn’t want them to feel alone. And so, she reads to her. On rare days when the labs were busy poking and prodding, and bruising her arms with constant needles. She didn’t mind it so much, those days. “You’d be surprised,” her voice felt like honey. “I’m pretty easy to impress.” And she doesn’t go into detail, she just lets it sit there between them.

“I like to think there’s a little bit of soul leftover, even after the ends.” She says with a small shrug of her shoulders. “It makes everything a little bit easier, sometimes too, knowing things will end, or begin again. I mean, that’s kind of the whole point of this right? Find a cure, save the world, it’s nearly poetic— if you were a sadist.” The last part is a joke, a quiet tease on the end of her breath. Because she knew, there was no poetry in the world today. In the outside. But, God, did she want to see it for herself. She wanted to step out into the grass, feel the wind, even if it was just for a second. Maybe that’s why she liked the solider. He was standing offish at first, always standing straight and following her around like she might step into a pit or the floor might swallow her up, and the cure to the world would be loss in the abyss. But the longer he watched, the more she spoke to him even when he didn’t speak back, the softer his shoulders got. Then came the stories. The way he told her, that one day soon when the others woke up— they would go outside. And he would take her. Show her how to make shapes out of the clouds, how to build a fire, how to protect herself when the time came. And then, one day, he was gone. And she didn’t love him, but she was fond of him, of the companionship. Maybe she could have, had they been given a little more time. But that’s the thing, right? There was never enough of it. Even in Eden.

She listens, half heartedly as her mind wondered. He explains the science behind emotions, and she nods. “I think you could dissect all the reasons why we feel, or act, but it doesn’t really explain the root of it in the moment. The ache in your chest when something a little too heavy sits there. The way your fingers warm, when it stammers just a little bit.” Her eyes glance to his hands, and the way he wipes them on jeans, and the way he stammers. And she realizes, everyone was human, even him. “It must be really tiring to always remember everything.” She breathes, but it’s more to herself than anything. When he says he hasn’t touched other factors, she laughs a little. You interest me, she wanted to say, but she doesn’t. “Does it interest you?” She says instead, and it sounds vaguely the same.

When he looks at the photograph, or a few trinkets, and hums— her heart stammers a little. She’s expecting him to say something to agree with them, but he doesn’t. He just asks her why she collects things, and she lets out a small shrug and a sigh. “I think I just don’t want them to be forgotten.” Maybe she, doesn’t want to be forgotten. When he says they haven’t given her much to attach to, she nods a bit. Agreeing, but doesn’t say anything at first. “It’s okay.” She finally says, after a moment. “There’s always tomorrow.” Then he stands. And her chest sinks a little, because she knows what’s coming. Their tea time was over, and she would be left with her thoughts and empty walls, and she’d read her book again— trying to quiet the echo of machines. Maybe tomorrow he’d bring her something else, a different story. A different book.

But then— he moves in the direction of the corner of the room. And the sound of a record being put into scratch, causes her gaze to snap up. Confusion contorts at her brows, and she recognizes it as Jazz but she doesn’t know the song. It’s slow, though. And she pushes herself up to her feet, nearly bumping into the coffee table. “I don’t—“ Her brows furrowed. She does know how to dance. A memory from the source she’d never seen before, briefly flicker into her head. Her and a man, they were so young, dancing in an even smaller kitchen. “Okay.” It’s quiet, and she moves towards him. Hesitant at first as she glances at his open palm, but she takes it anyways. That was the thing, she might not have been very strong— not yet. But she was brave, and the universe listened to brave. Her digits slipped between his, and he leads, and it’s slow but not too close. Brown eyes flickered up to cast across his face, the way shadows softly touched the edge of his jaw, the faint scar that lingered on his cheek. But then she pulls her gaze behind him, over his shoulder. “So.. if were going to play your game.. the what if game.. where would you put me?” Her brows raised, a small furrow of curiosity in her features as her voice lowered just a notch softer. “Where would you rewrite me?”

[cinnbar-bun]

As promised, today is June 25 which means shop opening day!! Happy shopping: Cinnbar-Bun Bigcartel Shop

Everything is a preorder, running from June 25- July 9 so you got plenty of time to decide. Shipping to the US, Canada, and UK only for the time being!

[jeannepompadour]

Infanta Maria Theresa by Velázquez, 1653

[aesthetic-bbyg]

I NEED Diego Hagreeves

[liminally-spaced]

[bagelbun333]

Diego's evolution, plus a long list of my headcanons for him below ^-^

This is what I have in mind when I write fanfiction about him c: (feel free to use them if you want!)

I was too lazy to draw him as a baby, but he was bottlefed coffee once

Born in 1984 (Between Feb 16th and Aug 27th)

Hispanic

Bisexual

Has ADHD

6'1 (Canon height)

Can speak fluent Spanish, English is his second language

Will slip into Spanish mid-sentence when emotional

Became an orphan at 5 y/o

Was adopted by Grossberg at 10 y/o

Inspired to become a lawyer because of Grossberg

Grossberg often took him fishing, he likes it as a hobby

Good at cooking

He had a mohawk fade haircut as a teenager (it kinda looks like one in the image below, and it's before the DL-6 Incident so he must've been around 16 or 17 here)

Good with kids (was often responsible for looking after the younger children when he was in the orphanage)

Red is his favourite colour

Went to law school with Jake Marshall and Eddie Fender

Loves reading books and studying literature

Is a big fan of the “Adventures of Herlock Sholmes” novels

Can play the saxophone

Started smoking at 16 y/o with the influence of Robert Hammond, but he stopped at 21 y/o when he got addicted to coffee instead (idea came from this concept art)

His smoking phase is why he has a deep, raspy voice

Started studying law at 17 y/o, became a lawyer at 21 y/o

Started having a promiscuous relationship phase at 17 y/o, stopped at 23 y/o (a couple years before he met Mia)

Physical touch is his love language

Power-bottom (submissive for Mia)

"Intellectually" attracted to Jake

He loves the feminine aspects of himself as much as his masculine aspects

He got his first piercing at 19 y/o

Started getting cats at 22 y/o (he has five of them, all named after coffee blends)

Big cat dad

Him saying “Ha…!” is one of his vocal stims

He keeps his attorney's badge in his pocket a couple years into his law career

Has an overprotective personality

Met Mia two years before the events of 3-4

Mia gave him a dark blue magatama as a good luck charm

He gets flustered when his own flirtatious words are used on him (especially when it's from Mia)

Blushes when receiving compliments (especially from women)

He doesn’t kink shame (based on image below)

Very good at doing voice impressions of people, even if it's feminine (this is actually canon, but not many people know that)

Has a habit of copying people's methods and using it against them (he does this in court)

Will flirt if it means it can help him win a trial

He was planning on proposing to Mia

Used to love cream and sugar in his coffee before he was poisoned (mocha latte was his favourite)

Depends on the AU I'm writing, but for canon events, Mia took Diego's cats to a trusted cat shelter while he was in a coma

After his poisoning, Diego refuses to put anything in his coffee, even if it's too bitter for him

Awakened from his coma sometime between August and November 2017 (At 33 y/o)

Starts having an identity crisis and existential crisis around November 2017 until he came up with his Godot persona in April 2018

Often forgets how old he is after coma

His attention span worsened after coma

Received his visor in March 2018

Released from the hospital sometime around April 2018 (after 2-4)

His coffee addiction became more severe after his poisoning: the scent woke him from his coma and he doesn't want to fall back to sleep, plus the scent reminds him of the wholesome memories he had with Mia and he wants to relive that time constantly

Suffers from Somniphobia/Insomnia because of his coma

Sleepwalks sometimes

Gets nightmares regularly

Often gets sleep paralysis

Has paler skin after coma

Skinnier physique after coma

Hurts himself physically to show that he's emotionally hurt (he's so used to hiding everything behind a smile that he doesn't really know how to express emotions)

Has one of those blind cane things but he hates using it

Gets chronic migraines

Hallucinates sometimes (I got the idea from when he saw Mia's spirit at the end of 3-5)

Gets panic attacks regularly (bc his emotions are so repressed)

Has Lepidopterophobia - fear of butterflies (trauma from Dahlia Hawthorne)

Became a prosecutor sometime during July 2018

Doesn't like looking at his own face during the events of AA3 (hates appearing vulnerable to others)

He never turns the lights on in his apartment (his visor allows him to see in the dark)

Because of his visor, he thinks he's wearing a black shirt and red tie (switched the colours from how he used to look, plus he wants to wear black bc he's grieving)

Extremely touch-starved after coma

Throws away his Godot persona after the events of AA3, February 2019 (This is canon but apparently a lot of people seem to think otherwise??)

[hallcw]

livia. || @solar1el

He may have had an impeccable memory, but things did occasionally slip his mind. Like jotting down notes for the others to go through, and passing them on in a timely manner. He had three days worth of observations to pass on, and so in the worlds most ridiculous handwriting, he wrote them down and set out to find Liv. She'd gotten used to him by now; the tardiness, the writing, the lack of cooperation. At least he'd convinced himself she did, it was certainly easier than fixing the fuck up. "I know, I know..." he said before she could say a word, and he passed on the deck of messy notes she'd no doubt have to spread out and put together like a jigsaw puzzle. "You uh, did you eat? Let's grab a drink."

[nightmareb1tch]

Those loyal fans who have been following me on my TUA shitposts:

How do you think group therapy would work with the Brellies+the Sparrows+Lila? Especially with all of my headcanons...

I'm sorry if some of them may be too far of a reach or a little crazy, i'm trying.

[chisecco]

did a six fanarts challenge on twitter, this is the result!

[jessehart]

WHERE: in some hallway on campus. WHO: @bigmandiego & jesse.

Cheating.

That one single word had been playing on a loop in Jesse's mind since the night of the Valentine's party. He'd tried to look at it from every angle, sus out exactly what G had meant by cheating. Was it romantic? Was it something else entirely? All he knew was that it would be impossible to narrow it down if he didn't start talking to people.

And then, like a gift from the universe, Diego caught his eye. He was across the hallway, but Jesse's long legs carried him quickly to his side, sidling up next to him with that kind of obnoxious grin he couldn't help but wield around Ogden's golden boy. "What up, Fuentes. Got a minute to walk and talk with me?"

[doctorareyes]

[call from 888-420-6969] HELLO, HOLA, AND GUTEN TAG. Are you looking for for a SOLUTION for your debt? The law firm of Devlin, Akre, Vito, Ipswich, & Sanderson is here to HELP! As long as your debt is eight years old, we can HELP you discharge all of those pesky, lingering feelings... MONEY FEELINGS, that is. PLEASE give us a call back at your earliest convenience. Don't let your debt drag you down!!!

[ user feels a pit of dread in her stomach about this. User wonders if she is reading too much into what the first letters of this law firm spell out. User has to drink. ]

Fuck off. No. This is a overly elaborate and really weird prank, and I'm not into that. I don't have money feelings. My best friend was eight years old but I wouldn't ever want to get rid of her

[jugglejerk]

memorializing them here in case I ever mess them up. . for a keychain I am making myself in preparation for jojoday!!