berzattcs - Tumblr blog

[berzattcs]

JEREMY ALLEN WHITE Calvin Klein | Fall 2024 Campaign

[berzattcs]

our boy of eternal suffering

[berzattcs]

the bear season 3 trailer - faceless

[berzattcs]

I’m feeling Totally normal about these. Especially the first picture like I’m so normal about it

[berzattcs]

Indeed, they are

[berzattcs]

me when carmy berzatto

how the fuck am i supposed to act like a normal functional human being when The Character exists

[berzattcs]

Okay, so, just to be clear, 'cause, you know, I can't fuckin' hear correctly. Not only are you not giving me back the original $300,000 you owe me, but you are also asking me for an additional $500,000? Yes, that sounds correct.

THE BEAR: 201. Beef

[berzattcs]

stuff richie says (1/?)

the bear (2022-)

[berzattcs]

02.02 ― 02.09 THE BEAR

[berzattcs]

a man who is still a boy

[berzattcs]

some thoughts about carmy and his relationship with love.

carmen knows love, but not the love we are expected to know.

love for him is tough, is hard and it takes more than it gives—hell, most of the time, it takes every last of strength there is from him.

love, for him, is sacrifice. is sitting back and watching his mother fall apart because saying something means she will fall even more. it’s going away from home to chase a dream that was not really his at first, but it became, somehow, all he had. it’s coming back home to a place thay doesn’t feel like it anymore because he has to. it’s showering himself in memories and regret because he has to. it’s taking care of the business he wanted to run with his brother but when he finally gets to be the one behind the wheel, he has to do it alone (or at least he thinks so).

carmen knows how to love. he loves his family, loves food—there’s not much to it, it’s all he has. these are the things that shaped him. what he doesn’t love, though, is himself. and god, how hard it is to do such thing?

he thinks that, in order to love himself, he needs to give away everything. push to the limit and go beyond, break his back and bend himself to fit in places way too small, or grow bigger when he needs to fit the bigger ones. he’s the mirrorball, he’s trying, he’s the archer and he has been his own prey. who could ever leave him? everyone, including himself.

who could stay? he’s trying to figure it out, still.

[berzattcs]

this is porn for mentally ill people thank you

carmy + voice compilation

[berzattcs]

carmy getting mad and jumping around throwing his arms he’s soooooo me actually

[berzattcs]

Carmy + tumblr text posts

[berzattcs]

she is thriving | THE BEAR SEASON TWO

[berzattcs]

SUCCESSION 1.09 “Pre-Nuptial” THE BEAR 2.06 “Fishes”

[berzattcs]

still see you (in the light)

summary: While his apartment falls apart through the fire, Carmy can’t help but go back to his brother.

pairing: none.

contents: gen content, mention of suicide/mental illness, stuttering, grief, angst, family dynamics, fire, mild comfort. 

characters: carmy “carmy” berzatto, michael “mikey” berzatto, richard “richie” jerimovich.

wc: 1.6k

an: basicaly, this is plotless, just angst and feelings. this is my first time writing the bear! hope you enjoy. 

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48501619

There’s a moment when you know it’s done.

The moment of no turning backs, the moment of regrets and flashbacks all packed up in your brain—they come out as fast as they can to haunt you. It stings, but you deserve it.

There’s a moment you think you might want to live and there’s a moment when you think it’s just easier if you just let go.

“You should be dead,” it echoes in Carmy’s mind. A broken record, a familiar voice. It never left his thoughts, just like it followed him around wherever he went when he stepped out of that restaurant in New York. Chef Richard was a lot of things: talented, for sure, and skilled. The best. He also happened to be he worst person that Carmy had ever happened to meet and work with.

Things weren’t easy back then. They sure aren’t being easy since he’s back in Chicago.

Let it rip.

Weird how his brother’s voice sounds weirdly similar to his own this one time. Whatever thought of him, however sweet and tender, always leaves a sour taste in Carmy’s mouth—because thinking of Michael is thinking of death, and no-goodbyes, and things that could be said, but never will be.

I love you.

Weirdly how his own voice sounds like Michael this time, even if they didn’t say a lot of those in the last couple years. Carmy still remembers the feeling of it, and the feeling of forcing himself to say it back every single time. He couldn’t understand why he had to. He did love his brother. Why was it so hard to just say it?

The fire spreads out in his apartment like the arms of a mother welcoming a son home, and all he can do is watch. It's fast, it's strong, he doesn’t have time. If things were different, he wonders, if things were better, would he fight for his life? Mikey did the opposite of fighting, and it hurts to even think about it, it aches all over his body but he did, and if Carmy gives up as well, this will all go away. 

Right?

*

“You know what, Carm? It’s time for you to learn that you’re stronger than you think.” Carmy hated the pity in Mikey’s voice, the look on his face and the way he stared right into his soul. The last thing Carmy wanted was to be perceived on back in those days, and, of course, his brother could see right through him.

Through every crack of his soul.

Carmy did his best to avoid Mikey’s eye contact, thinking maybe it should help. He could feel the knot in his throat, the one that it’s been there forever, getting bigger. “What—w-why are you saying that?” He hated every word that came out of his mouth.

Mikey laughed, but it was dry, like the back of Carmy’s throat. “Just think you should know,” he replied. And he placed his hand on Carmy’s bouncing leg.

It stopped for a second. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, got it,” the younger brother replied, no further questions asked because that would mean that he would have to talk. And Carmy talking means he was embarrassing himself—he knew that because Collin from his math class said so, just a few hours before.

Carmy’s leg started bouncing again, and he fiddled with his hands on his lap, covered by the worn-out sweater sleeves.

“Hey, I’m serious, Carm.”

It pisses him off. How dared he talk to him like that, like he was a baby and needed help? He just wanted to be left alone. He couldn’t bring himself to get out of his brother’s side either.

I’m not a baby, he wanted to say. I’m not a fucking baby and fuck you and your pity. Fuck you and this family and this town that I can’t get out of. Fuck me for being broken like this.

He didn’t say any of those things out loud.

Instead, “I–I-I just, uh. I-I just—fuck. S-sorry. Fuck me.” Because he couldn’t say much those days, or just didn’t want to. The words wouldn’t come out right. That’s why he drawed on his classes and avoided answering questions. That’s why his grades were shitty and he didn’t have any friends.

“Take your time.” And God, if only Mikey knew how much saying that pissed him off. “And don’t say sorry, man.”

Jesus. “Fuck you. I-I-I got it.” He said that because he wanted to believe it.

“I’m just trying to be supportive, man. Jesus,” Mikey grunted, recoiling his hand to himself and sighing.

“I don’t fucking n-need you to acknowledge my st-st-stutter every chance that you have, Michael.”

This, somehow, changed everything. It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it, and using his brother’s full name. Michael then turned to face Carmy again, a sadness in his eyes Carmy felt sick to look at. He took his brother’s face in his hands with care, even if he seemed on the verge of yelling. “I love you,” he whispered. “Listen to me, Carm, I love you. Alright? You hear me? It’s all I do. I fucking love you.”

It took Carmy a while to reply—ignoring the single tear that was falling down his eye—but it came out in a single breath. “I love you too,” he says.

Michael kissed his forehead and finally left the room.

*

Years of speech therapy and sometimes all he needed was to gather the courage to say he loved his brother to make it go away for a second. He never did stutter saying that, not that he remembers. A few times with Nat, and every single time with Mom. Donna usually took a sip of her wine after hearing it, like that thing with the dog salivating after hearing a bell. What’s the name of it? Classical conditioning, he remembers. Ivan Parlov. That’s one of the few things he remembers from science classes. A natural stimulus paired with an innate or biological stimulus to elicit an innate response. It was like she needed that godforsaken drink to numb her every time he said he loved her. Carmy sometimes thinks she doesn’t quite believe in him.

It spreads. And it spreads, and it spreads—

There’s a fire alarm going off somewhere or it could be in his mind, but the thing is that he finally starts to feel hot. And his breathing is heavy, and his heart is beating so fast in his chest that all he can do is stay still and close his eyes.

Carmy is sure he’s going to die here and he doesn’t know how this fire started, but it’s happening. He’s so used to the warmth it brings to him that for a single moment, he’s not afraid. It lasts a second.

He used to think he was done with fire and all the destruction that it brought to him, but it seems fire isn’t done with him after all.

The thing is that this time, he doesn’t know if he wants to let it rip. Maybe now, while sweat runs down his face and he opens his eyes while they burn with all the black smoke, he wants to live. He wants to live for Michael, for him, for The Bear which is still just an idea, but he wants to bring it to life someday with Richie.

He doesn’t know if he will be able to, but the desire is there. So is the fear. So is the fire.

“Cousin! Fuck, Jesus Christ, Cousin! Where the fuck are you—”

So is Richie — Richie is here.

It happens very fast while Carmy is being pulled away from the smoke. Richie drags him out of the apartment and there are distinguish sounds, people shouting, the fire and smoke are all he can see and Richie’s hands on his shoulders as he mumbles something to him when they finally get out of there. No, he’s screaming. He’s asking something.

“What the fuck happened? Carm, cousin, what were you doing there?” Richie takes Carmy’s face in his hands and it hits him right in the gut. 

Listen to me, Carm, I love you. Alright? You hear me? It’s all I do. I fucking love you.

“Carm?” Richie asks for him. “Just fucking—please, just tell me you’re okay.”

There it is, the lump in his throat again. The words won’t come out, none of them feel right, and none of them want to leave. His brain shuts out for a few seconds while he searches for the way to say it, the way to tell him, to say anything. It won’t come out right. 

“I miss him,” Carmy whispers, finally. It’s the first time he says it out loud. “I miss him.”

That’s definitely not what Richie asked. Definitely not what Carmy wanted to say, but somehow, exactly what he needed to. The fire is already out, he realizes, and there are so many people going in and out his apartment that he feels exposed as he looks at them. Richie brings Carmy to look at him again and it’s when the younger one realizes he’s crying. Sobbing violently, and it doesn’t stop. 

I miss him, I miss him, I miss him. This is my fault. I should be dead instead. I miss him.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare fucking say that,” Cousin whispers, shaking his head while pulling Carmy close. “This isn’t on you. We need you here.”

It makes Carmy stop in his tracks.

“I’m serious, Carmy. We need you here. I need you here. You’re family.” And, oh.

Okay.

The next thing Carmy says comes out just right. The lump on his throat gone, once again. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, Cousin.”

It’s the first time Carmy feels like he might belong in here again.

Richie smiles, and the pity in his eyes doesn’t sting Carmy. “Just try not to burn down your next apartment, you fucker.”