sheepfilms
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Origami Around
Janaina Medeiros
🪼
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
RMH
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Love Begins
Kaledo Art
PR's Tumblrdome
No title available
tumblr dot com
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
NASA
roma★
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
will byers stan first human second
dirt enthusiast
seen from Tunisia
seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Angola
seen from Russia
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Argentina
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@concernedaboutcats-blog
@hcltzed liked for a starter!
Jennifer’s about to ask what the other woman is doing in Dr. Holtzmann’s private workspace, when she sees that she has an unofficial visitor's pass distributed by Holtzmann herself that reads: Leah Holtzmann. And her heart just about falls through the floor at the sight of it. “Oh God. There’s more of you?”
❛ Okay but I’m just. Saying. You shouldn’t be here. At all. ❜ Wild eyes and arms buried elbow deep in the bowels of a new containment system. Grease smeared across her brow, the speakers in the corner blasting One Direction, actually. ( A recommendation from Kevin. ) ❛ Ten minutes in the room with this baby and you run the serious risk of the stick up your ass disintegrating. ❜
@concernedaboutcats called!
❛ Very mature, Dr. Holtzmann, ❜ Jennifer responds snidely as she moves toward her, examining the containment system from as close as she can justify without worrying she’ll die.❛ But, then again, what else can you expect from someone who listens to One Direction while they work. ❜
“Arright, patent-mother,” says Erin, securing her hair tightly away from her face. Her phone buzzes in her pocket; she withdraws it. Checks it. Offers the screen for Jennifer’s perusal as she salutes Holtzmann, who spectates smugly from the mezzanine. “It’s not the worst one of you we have on file,” says Erin, and it’s the truth: this little candid shot by Dr Holtzmann is of a very clean Jennifer Lynch, and it’s not entirely nonconforming to her public profile. “Anyway. Dungeon-time.”
There is a small mounted dish by the wall, decroated by a number of Erin’s spidery safety-first! scrawls. She removes her jewelry, deposits her phone, and empties her pockets of anything even potentially hazardous. (So, everything.) “Electronics and reactive metals stay above-ground, please,” she says, inputting a her safecode into the reinforced basement door. “Most of what’s down here is arguably unstable regarding prolonged exposure, and highly temperamental. Also, they don’t like flash-photography or shiny things.” Is it Gremlins? Probably Gremlins.
Erin nudges the door open and steps graciously aside. “There’re weapons, don’t worry. After you.”
Jennifer takes a moment to examine the photo before exhaling heavily and gesturing dismissively that she can keep it. Not that she had any say in whether or not she deleted it anyway. But then Erin mentions the file and she almost physically steps back. “I’m sorry, you have more pictures of me? How long has this been going on?” she asks, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow so high it nearly meets her hairline.
She nods at the instruction and removes her earrings and watch, placing it in the dish with her cellphone, taking her purse and placing it by the dish, just to be safe. “Somehow, I don’t feel very reassured, Gilbert.” She offers Erin a look of disdain before slipping through the door and descending the stairs.
“Jennifer.
The first name didn’t roll off of her tongue as smoothly as she had imagined. She grimaced and made a noise to indicate her error.
“Ms. Lynch.” Much better.
She let out a laugh at Jennifer’s response.
“Just Holtzmann is fine. I just like it when you know your options. It gives you something to think about.”
Ever since the mayor’s assistant had made the comment about drawing too much attention, Holtzmann had made it her life-long mission to amp up the weirdness anytime she was around the woman who seemed so obsessed about putting cats in bags. “Ah, yes, the good ol’ standard.” She shot the other woman some finger guns. “Would you like to assist me on this project? Actually get a feel for what we do over at the H.Q.?”
Holtzmann uses her first name and it makes her cringe. Very few people call her Jennifer. She hates the way it sounds. She hates the things she associates it with, and when she makes the decision to reprise her statement, Jenn offers her an approving nod. “Thank you.” She inhales softly and crosses her arms. “Holtzmann, it is.” she agrees, offering an awkward and perhaps slightly sarcastic smile. This conversation hardly seems necessary, but she respects the other woman, and she always tries to let people she respects take the lead. It’s her little way of letting them know how she sees them. She examines the other woman as she asks and thinks for a moment, glancing around as if to see if there were anything better for her to do before letting out a breath and shrugging. “Why not? What do you need, Holtzmann?”
friendly reminder that i’m in tech week for anything goes this week so i’m not gonna be hella active anywhere but i’m gonna try to do as much as i can this weekend assuming i’m not dead from opening
trash au
trash au → accepting.
“its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching me trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes” au
“I just – I need – oh my god, I said no pickles.” She’s still in her coveralls. She’s not even bothered to strip them off. And there’s ectoplasm and mustard in her hair, and a fluted wine glass full of Diet Coke, and Erin Gilbert wishes she could lose herself in the god-damn-mother-flippin’-piece-of-lukewarm-ohmygodi’mactuallyallergictoorangefooddye. “Those are great shoes, Jennifer.” Erin paws at the decimated remains of her Big Mac and exhumes a few sauce-covered pickles; she slides them like hockey-pucks across the table and lights up with nefarious glee as one hits Jenifer right in the tailored blouse. Her eyes – if Erin could focus on them – would be annihilating. But Erin is two-thirds of her way through a bottle of vodka and she isn’t stopping for any bitch. “I’m sure they cost more than my rent – which is a lot,” she slurs. “And – I’m a vegetarian…” Erin takes a ragged bite out of the meatslab. “But I’ve failed at that, and I can’t wear my good shoes to work, and one of these days I’m gonna shoot someone and they won’t be dead, and then they’ll die.” Softly Erin hums the Moonlight Sonata as she slides a ketchup-drenched hand across the table. She taps at the acrylic surface, letting the weight of her mind sink her chin just inches from the rest of her food. Lynch had probably paid for it. “Thank you,” Erin says, and she doesn’t know what for or why she’s crying.
Jennifer is watching Erin have a mental break down, and it is honestly starting to scare her. If she were a meaner, more apathetic person, she would probably have just sat back and enjoyed it, but instead she sat on the edge of her seat, watching the trainwreck with increasing concern. This was out of character for Erin, so incredibly out of character, and her mind was racing trying to reconcile the changes. “Thank you,” she manages as the other woman compliments her shoes, only to seconds later be pelted with sloppy pickles. She sighs and wipes the pickles off, trying hard not to let this get to her. It’s like watching a child have a melt down, if you sink to their level it’ll only get worse. She crosses to the sink in their kitchen and cleans off her blouse, letting out a huff of frustration at the sight of the wet spot before crossing her arms and returning to stand beside Erin, starting to wonder if she’ll eventually just pass out. Not that would be much better since then she’ll have to make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit. If only the Ghostbusters weren’t all out on a call, then she could go home, take her shoes off, take a bath and have a glass of wine. But they were, so she couldn’t. It takes her a moment to register what she must be talking about and sighs. “It’s not a problem, Erin.” She realizes seconds later that she’s crying and reaches for a stool, pulling it up beside her and neatly interlocking her fingers on the table. “May I ask what brought all this on?” she sighs and straightens her spine as if to relieve pressure in it before leaning down to make eye contact with her. “I, myself, have gone on many a drinking binge that has ended something like this, so believe me there is no judgement happening here.” She tucks her hands under her chin and leans over completely. “You can talk to me. I probably have the least emotional investment in you of anybody you know, so I can be as objective as you need me to be. And I’m a good listener. It’s practically what I do for a living.”
Erin is an observer of many things. Always has been. She supposes it’s one of the side effects of hiding and lying for an entire lifetime, while still suffering dearly for something she had never done wrong. It’s safe to say that she pays attention. She doesn’t miss the subtle change in Jennifer’s posture or the way she seems to rise with an air of superior dominance.
It doesn’t work on her. Ms Lynch is a woman who excels in the arts of business and all brands of intimidation —- Erin even admires her work ethic, but she won’t be pushed down or have her integrity squashed. She’s frustrated, to say the least, but it only shows in the way her hands awkwardly clench by her sides.
“ If… you want to throw more of the mayor’s money into recruitment, fine, ” Erin proffers, as courteous as she can possibly be, “ —– but Kevin works for a minimum wage. The least you can do is just… leave him alone. If there’s anything else you’d like to discuss, I’d— be happy to. ”
She hates when her power is matched. When she is no longer in control, but she knows with a woman like Erin Gilbert, she has no hope of regaining it. They are equals but Erin is in her element, on her stomping grounds, she has the upper hand and Jennifer hates it. If she didn’t need the Ghostbusters so damn bad, she’d tear them all apart just to prove she could. But not only were they now vital to the health and safety of their city, she also respected them, and -- God forbid -- even cared about them a little, so she was at a loss for options. “I just thought I’d offer a solution to a problem,” The word problem is said with so much harshness and razor sharp intensity that she almost regrets it. She almost feels guilty for feeling that much resentment, so she reigns it in and clears her throat. “Anyway. That subject has clearly been covered.” she hesitates and decides to soften up for her benefit. “The only other thing I had to tell you is that the mayor and I appreciate your service, and the most recent additions to your weaponry and equipment have greatly improved your efficiency, so on behalf of the mayor and myself, congratulations and thank you.”
trash au
@concernedaboutcats
“im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???” au
After having caused a fire that destroyed a very expensive piece of equipment at the Kenneth P. Higgins institute for science, Holtz was forced to get a job to pay for what she had destroyed, or else she’d be kicked out alongside with her partner Abby. Which is how she ended up delivering pizzas 7 nights a week to all sorts of people. From party people, to people who pretended to have a party so they could have an excuse to eat an entire pizza on their own. Yeah, it was pretty crap that she had to give up precious time from her paranormal research to pay off what she had destroyed, but rather that than not be able to do research at all.
“Alright, we have a pepperoni pizza with cheese for…” Holtzmann accepted the pizza and the address without a word and quickly hurried to her personalised scooter. No one dared use it after the modifications she has made to it. She sped off like a bullet out of a gun, having to deliver the pizza in 30 minutes or less.
She climbed up the many stairs of the apartment building and was about to knock on a door when she heard some strange Latin incantations.
“Flumina sanguinis et ossa montibus, DIABOLUS, A CINERIBUS RESURGENT!”
Holtzmann never took Latin, but even she knew that someone shouting DIABOLUS didn’t exactly mean they were holding a tea party with their stuffed animals.
She hesitantly knocked on the door. “Excuse me? I’m here with the Pizza you ordered?”
So, in her defense, the satanic ritual hadn’t been her idea. She had been convinced by a friend that she needed to do one to reverse her bad luck, and while it wasn’t exactly her normal fare, she had gotten really drunk after another spell of bad luck and decided she might as well. And then the pizza she had ordered arrived and she jumped to her feet and basically sprinted to the door nearly twisting her ankle on her heels in the process. She was an aspiring politician, just because she continued to fail to get any position beyond unpaid internships, didn’t mean she didn’t still have dreams, and she couldn’t let this be something that eventually got out. “Hi,” Jenn manages. “Sorry about all that weirdness, I’m doing it on a bet. My friend said it’d be like... good luck or whatever.” And then it sort of sinks in that woman before her is kind of... hot. Like in an unconventional way, of course, but nonetheless. She gives her a once over and raises a finger as if to signal that she should stay where she is before disappearing into her apartment and emerging with the cash for the pizza. She plays with the money between her fingers and leans toward the woman flirtatiously, forgetting for a moment her political aspirations. “Now, in fairness, I am drunk right now, but I’m single, you’re attractive and I think we should get a drink sometime. So, here’s my number,” she says, pulling her business card off of the table nearest the door. “Give me a call if you’re at all interested.” She exchanges the cash and the business card for the pizza. “And forget the whole Satanism thing. I promise that’s not a normal part of my life.”
“ Well that’s good then,” Rebecca started with a nod. “at least you won’t let intruders in.” Picking her ID & showing it to the her, the scientist introduced herself "I’m Dr Gorin,Jillian’s mentor & current consultant. And you are?“
“My apologies, Dr. Gorin,” She says, gently gesturing for her to put her ID away and offering her a tedious smile. Dr. Holtzmann’s mentor? She’d heard of the woman, but to think she existed and she dressed like that... was an entirely different thing. Not that she had much higher expectations exactly. “I’m Jennifer Lynch, executive assistant to the mayor. I’m just here doing my monthly... check-up so to speak.” She offers a hand to shake. “Anything of interest going on in this lab lately, Dr. Gorin?”
list of trash aus i need immediately (send me “trash au” and i’ll use a random generator to decide which starter to write for you)
“hey we hooked up last night and it turns out you are my childs teacher” au
“we both play this stupid game online and you keep beating me every single goddamn time so i called you out and you are pretty cute but can you not” au
“im a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and im scared to ask” au
“we are neighbours and every night at 3:14 am you start yodeling for no fucking reason??? why???? is that you yodeling??? its been 2 months???” au
“im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???” au
“i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???” au
“we work out at the same gym and you always look super legit but i know you sing hannah montana in the shower and you know i know” au
“im a cashier and i saw you stuffing you pants full of potatoes and i would stop you but you already have 27 and i want to see how many you can fit” au
“its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching my trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes” au
“i was playing beer pong with a coin and i accidentally threw it right into your eye at a party” au
As Jennifer proceeds to speak, Erin studies her face with unreserved dubiety, hands clasped together; She doesn’t quite know what to do with them. There’s a defensiveness in the way she stares back at her. Kevin has become one of the team, regardless of his… many, many shortcomings, and while Erin’s lawsuit-worthy attraction to him has waned somewhat over the months, she’s fond of him. They all are.
“ Excuse me, Ms. Lynch, I’m sorry —, ” she interjects, speaking through a forced smile, gritted teeth and all. “ We have no intention of firing Kevin. He was the only applicant for the position, and we like him, despite his… occasional struggles. ”
Erin has little more to add to her argument; Her voice trails off. “ I… don’t think he’s even had a place of his own… ”
“I’m sure now that you’re a more lucrative, and popular business, you could find a far more... competent employee.” Jennifer says, crossing her arms and standing up a little straighter as if to remind Erin of her dominant position. “And his struggles are more than occasional, Dr. Gilbert, I don’t know why you insist on protecting him like this.” She studies the other woman slowly, and realizes that she is going to make absolutely no impact on her in this conversation. She’s going to do whatever she wants, and unfortunately she doesn’t have enough power to stop her. That’s why she drives Jennifer crazy. “But, I suppose all I can do is make suggestions. This is your operation. However, I do think you’d be better off with a more competent assistant.”
@freakin-faraday-cage continued from here.
“You may call me Holtzmann, if you’d like.”
Sometimes the title bugged her in a social setting. Was this a social setting? She shrugs to herself.
“Jillian if you’re nasty.”
She took in a sharp breath through her nose and hummed in thought.
“It’s a full spectrum camera device–” THING, she wanted to scoff. “To get a new one- six-hundred big ones. For me to tinker with it and fix it- because I’m good at what I do; one-hundred and access to the dumpsters.”
“Right -- Holtzmann.” Jennifer is a fan of titles. She likes keeping a professional distance between her and the people she works with, but the Ghosbusters don’t seem especially fond of maintaining any kind of distance between her and them. But especially not Holtzmann. “Well, I’m not... especially nasty. So, I think Holtzmann will suffice.” Well, it looked a lot more expensive than a hundred dollars, but a part of her sighs a breath of relief. She hates giving expense reports to the mayor that more or less come down to: Dr. Holtzmann blew it up. “That’s fine, then. Just do what you have to do and hand the receipt over to me and we’ll reimburse you. Standard stuff.”
❛ look who’s joining the party! ❜ she’s YELLING at a volume that well surpasses that of the music she’s blaring. she sets down the hazardous waste basket she was carrying to the much larger disposal bin and slides her gloves off as she dances her way over to the mayor’s assistant. she thought erin was uptight but she has nothing on miss jennifer lynch. she offers her hands to the brunette, goofy grin still plastered on her features.
❛ dance with me and i’ll stop… for the next few hours. c’mon, ya gotta loosen up a little. lose the personal storm cloud. ❜ she wiggles her brows, still dancing even as she’s offering her hands out for jennifer to take. ❛ i won’t rest until you dance. ❜
to jennifer, this is essentially an ultimatum. it’s either dance with dr. holtzmann and sacrifice her dignity and perhaps even her authority or suffer through hours of being persuaded and annoyed. it’s not a decision she wants to make, but at the end of the day she’s gonna be exhausted either way, so she might as well take a chance at having a little fun. ❛ fine. ❜ she says, moving toward holtzmann cautiously, and hesitantly removing her heels and taking her hair down, gently moving to the rhythm with only her shoulders and about 10% of her hips, awkwardly taking the other woman’s hand and allowing her to guide her around the room. ❛i’m not much of a dancer... ❜ she warns. not that that’ll change anything.
hey i haven’t done anything in like two days and i’m sorry i’ve been just impossibly busy and i promise i’ll try to get some stuff done tomorrow
if you don’t terrify people a little bit then what’s the point.
“ i didn’t break it. it broke all on it’s own. ”
THEATRE KID STARTERS | ACCEPTING!
“You are an awful liar, Dr. Holtzmann.” Jennifer shakes her head, sighing softly as she examines the broken object on the floor. “How much is it going to cost the good tax paying citizens of New York to replace this… thing?”
Of course the government was comfortable sourcing a highly illegal – and highly explosive – cocktail. Erin offers Ms Lynch a tight smile. “Much appreciated,” she replies, tipping her head toward the notebook. And it is. “At least now our engineer won’t have to intercept your… guy… on her own time.” Erin wishes she was kidding. “But, I digress. You don’t have to wear them at all, if you don’t want to. You’re perfectly welcome to deal with viscous spectral residue in your own…” painfully inappropriate for an office, what are you thinking? how can you get anything done in a skirt that tight? “… attire. Either way, we’re taking funny pictures.” Again, Erin wishes she was kidding.
“Shall we?”
Not exactly thrilled at the concept of being photographed in the coveralls on her arm, Jennifer offered Dr. Gilbert a look of skepticism and displeasure. It wasn’t as though wearing her pencil skirt and blouse into the caverns of (what did they call it?) ectoplasm, without the coveralls was a better idea, but at least she had chosen to wear comfortable shoes for the occasion. “What does ‘funny pictures’ entail, exactly?” she asks, carefully stepping into the coveralls as Erin speaks, pulling them over her shoulders before zipping it up and offering her a soft, bitter smile. “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
