#(but i feel like it does take up a good portion of my life. mostly bc everybody around me has Problems rn)

[anaalnathrakhs]

"people love you uwu people care about you" okay? not my problem. love me less. can we work out a reasonable level of care where it's obviously not cool if horrible things happen to me, a human being, and you won't do any horrible thing to me, but you don't feel obligated to fuss over anything out of the ordinary i do and i have to shut up about it and perform Normal Human Emotions lest i commit an awful social faux pas and hurt your feelings?

[carmenized-onions]

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!

portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.

possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry

kofi; if you’ve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!

The Monday morning after New York— The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or two— Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts you’ve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you do—

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

—You’re definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. You’re wide-eyed and wired— You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.

“Oh— I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicago— Fuck this!” 

In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days. 

The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

There’s a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Syd’s, Richie’s, Carmy’s, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldn’t be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.

Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.

 Carmen’s knife guy wasn’t able to do engravings on such short notice, and you’re not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so that’ll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the MET— Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.

Still lost on what to get Carmen… You’ve got a week, it’s fine. You’ve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, ‘hey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?’ You’ll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.

It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. You’ll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal… Just such bad timing—

At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. You’ve got to stop ruminating or you’ll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today. 

“God wants me to kill myself—” Gratitude. Express gratitude.

The drive back went ‘well’. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmen’s lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarz—

Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are covered— You’re winning best Aunt for sure.

Oh, huge highlight— Didn’t say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.

With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasn’t helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed. 

Today’s Monday. Today’s your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.

You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. You’re both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the ‘confidence’ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.

“I love my life, I love my life, I love my life…” If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, it’ll become true, right? …Where’s Sara’s card again?

The Bear doesn’t run service on Mondays, so it’s a good day to do onboarding— Good day to do R and D. …What does one wear to R and D? Don’t need the serving uniform. Don’t need to dress up. Don’t need the jumpsuit… This is the first time you don’t need a uniform and that is bizarre.

You’ll wear your dad’s flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, you’re just a normal… restaurateur… part of the team…

Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. “Mikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.”

You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.

It’s snowing.

That’s a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.

That’s basically a sign. That’s basically what you asked for.

You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.

…And then soon after, head back in— Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. “The fucking glass, goddamn it!”

There’s a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No one’s gonna notice that, though.

“Mikey, why didn’t you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.”

You’re good. You’re you. You figure shit out. You’re compartmentalising perfectly and no one’s gonna be able to tell that you’re internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.

“ ‘Sup with you?” Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass you’re carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully it’s a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

“Woahwoahwoah—” But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, “Fuck are you doin?” And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. “Wait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellin’ you?”

“I am very capable—” You grunt, but you’re relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. “Put it on the island.”

“What’s it for?” Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.

“Syd’s idea.” You walk with him, sidling up to Syd who’s already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.

“Unless it’s bad—” You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. “If you hate it, then it’s my idea.”

Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. “Nice save.”

“What’s your idea, Chef?” Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.

You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like you’re Vanna White as Sydney explains. “For R and D. Thought since we’re like— Constantly changing shit and needing to review, it’d be like, useful to have a whiteboard— But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurant— Duh— So—”

“Glass!” You come in with the assist as she rambles on. “On hinges— These one’s lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the station— And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!”

“And—And—” Like a TV ad, Syd points out, “We can put paper under it and still be able to see— So it’ll make editing clearer— I-I think.”

Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through other’s ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. “Smart idea. Thank you, Chefs.”

You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. “You got a second?”

Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. “Always.”

Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, “Trouble in paradise.” Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?

The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmen’s office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. He’s first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.

“Are you good?”

Fuck, he caught you too? “Hmm? Yeah, I’m good, do I not—”

You’re halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. “Right— Stupid, stupid fucking question— I just— Sorry—”

“Woah—” You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. “Are you good, Carmy? You’re right, sweets. You caught me. I’m a lil��� off today. What gave me away?”

“Right, yes— You’re nice.” He’s saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. “I— I’m good, I was just—You didn’t text me back this morning.”

“Oh.” You say it so breathlessly, with relief. It’s cute that that’s what’s got him freaking. “Sorry, yeah, I’ve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got some…” You shake your hand in the air for effect. “Bleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, that’s all.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Ah—” You shake your head, waving it off, “Too much to get into. Later, though?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whenever you want.” He nods. “Ah, I wanna get into uhm—” Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. “Get into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of time—But Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shit— Should be here in thirty?”

You nod, squinting. “Is it like… A special computer or something?”

“Computer is a guy.” Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, “Why wouldn’t he be!?” Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. “Baby, what the fuck is that?” 

You’re already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. It’s a gorgeous espresso machine— “It’s an Ascaso.” Explains Carmen. “It’s the best.” And it’s sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be. 

“Baby, baby, baby—” you’re looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. “Don’t tell me you threw away the old one—” 

“You want the old one?”

Richie’s timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, “Fuckin’ told you, Carm.” He knows the context. He keeps walking— On a mission, seemingly.

“I’m grateful— I- I am.” You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelf— It’s not here. She’s not here. “New is good— New is nice— I’ll learn how to use the new one— I will— But— I— I need the old one— You didn’t throw it away, did you?” 

When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where you’re crouched on the ground, pleading. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I— I—” The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. “It— It barely worked—”

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? “That’s the point?”

“I knew how she worked.” You push yourself back up onto your feet. “It’s got an espresso function that doesn’t work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a little— You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it won’t dispense— It’s literally a fucking nightmare— I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. And— And I’ve got it memorized.”

“...And you want that?”

“No one’s gonna know how to take care of her, she’s my baby!” You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. “If you throw her away or donate her, no one’s gonna take the time to figure it out— They’re just gonna think she’s broken but she’s not, she works! She just needs the right hand!”

A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. There’s an ever slight chance your ‘I’m totally fine’ facade is cracking. “...Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your thing right—” 

“I’m good!” “...Okay.” “Did you get rid of her?”

“Relax, Handy!” Carmen does not say this. 

You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beef’s corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by far— Well, second least favourite, only to— “She’s over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boy’s ack - queso bullshit…” It’s nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic. 

He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. “...Refresher would be good, though.”

You’re already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You don’t get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Jack-Off and don’t touch her, I’ll show you, I’ll break your hand Cheech, I swear—”

The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. “Ey, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.” 

Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be. 

You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. That’s fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.

Mikey really shouldn’t have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people don’t know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.

“You gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.” You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebra’s shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. “Just the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.”

Cheech turns his head to you, “Right, Handy?”

“...Don’t call me Handy.” Don’t freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Don’t freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. “Maybe just offer them, if they ask for one?”

“Y’know what the people are asking for, babe?” Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. “They’re asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.”

You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, nodding. “Ninety-eight percent, Jack-Off.” Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?

“C’mon, E…” You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. “Well, I’ll make note of that. Now back to the fuckin’ hand frother, Cheech?”

“I know how to crank it, Handy—” “I swear to fucking God—”

“Ey!” Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chi’s head with a hand towel when she does. “Don’t talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.”

He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. “Ey, T, it’s all love, aright? Playing!”

“Yeah well, you’re not gonna wanna play wit’ this one. ‘Specially not now—” She nudges you, smiling that coy ‘I’m about to blow up your spot’ smile.

You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. “T, don’t—” “That she’s Jeff’s.” “—Goddamnit.”

“Oh! Oh shit!” Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. “You finally closed on Charmin’? Congrats—” It’s a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your… boyfriend? Undetermined.

You wave a hand in his face, “Shut the fuck up—”

“So where should I send flowers?”

You hate this family. “For the record, I have not closed shit.”

“What’s closing?” Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesn’t reveal anything. “What’s that? Gramps?” She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing. 

“Well Jack-Off’s a little Mother Mary for my taste—”

You scoff, “So not true, for the record—” but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. “So I suspect she just means they haven't had the ‘are we datey-wating carmy baby?’ talk.”

You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as it’s done, and you’re praying that’s soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. “We are currently unlabelled, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. “Richie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?”

You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a mother’s disappointment. “We talked out a lot of important stuff—” “Mija, that is important stuff!”

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—” 

Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tina’s about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. “So you’re still on the market, Handy?”

“For you?” You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. “Never. Now froth the fucking milk.”

He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frother— You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carm— The menu. 

When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking… off. She’s staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers. 

You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. “You good, T?”

Your hand shocks her back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, baby.” It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. “I’m good. You good?”

“I’ve got my complaints.” You shrug. “But nothing I won’t survive.” Probably.

Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, “And when did I fuckin’ greenlight this?” interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.

With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant. 

You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, “The old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. She’ll need the three groups to keep up.” and you’re able to quickly glean they’re talking about the new espresso machine.

“Okay, I hear that,” Jimmy nods, “but why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?”

“Ten?!” You can’t help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand,  “Sorry, continue.”

Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients needed– Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. He’s so sweet. God, you love him. God, that’s disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computer’s— Computer. Carmy’s nonplussed by that fact, it seems.

Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. “See, Chip understands the power of the dollar.”

“I’m not involved.” You add, waving your hand, it’s a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. “Ignore me, continue.”

The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, “It’s the best.”

Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. “Why do you need the best?”

The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. “Cause—”

You duck your head under the counter at just the right moment— Or just the wrong moment? Because you don’t get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. “Because.” 

You don’t see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. “Chip…”

When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you don’t hit your head— Because you have an awful tendency to do so. You’re too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like you’re in trouble to notice though. “What’d I do?” 

“You’re you.” Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. It’s not your fault. Not completely. “F-Y-I– Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.”

“Hm.” You squint, lips in a line. “And what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?”

“Well respect yourself more than that.” Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. “Take twenty, now you’re back to ten. You’re welcome.”

“Generosity knows no bounds.” You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. “Thank you, Unc.”

“Sorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?” 

“Oh fuck—” Despite Carmen’s best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voice— The Computer, you assume. “Fuckin—Ow— Sorry! Y’know what, hol’ on, let me just finish up here—”

“It’s the drink budget. Tony’s the new mixologist.” Natalie answers for you. “And sommelier.”

“Ah,” hums The Computer. “She’s the one we’re paying Quarter-Master for?”

“Nah, that’s me.” Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, “Richie, you find that book yet?!”

“I’m taking them too!” You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. “Apparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.”

“I think it’s impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.” Syd taps the top of your head, she’s the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. “Classes are coming out of the advanced.”

“So is this.” You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. “You’re workin’ with like… A thousand left for pre-paid work?”

“Hm.” Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. “Did you account for that?”

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, “Alright, you don’t—”

“A thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.” He’s right, but you don’t love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. “Payroll is a little high, for a somme.”

“I don’t disagree—” You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.

But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. “It’s not.”

“That’s not pay for a somme, that’s a pay for Chip, you don’t need to enhance on that.” Jimmy deads the topic then and there. “You’ll see. Just trust me. You were sayin’ somethin about tiny plants?”

“Microgreens.” Says Syd. 

“Yes. Do less of that.”

And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive we’re doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, don’t duh– What’s that you’re hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computer’s screen that he doesn’t understand but pretends he does.

You’ve got a million ideas, but it’s none of your business. It very literally isn’t your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.

He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like it’s a witness stand. “What’s that fuckin’ face on your face, kid?” Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?

You pfft, shrugging. “I’m not makin’ a face—!” But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you. 

“You’re makin’ a face,” — “This is just what I look like,” — “Y’know how I know you’re makin’ a face?” — “Enlighten me.” — “Cause it’s the same fuckin’ face—”

He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. “That your dad makes.” A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dad’s tells. And a man that knows your dad’s tells is a man that knows your tells. 

You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come off it.” “I’m not on anything, Unc—” “You’ve got a problem, say it.” 

“I don’t have a problem!” You have a lot of problems, but they can’t know that. That makes you judgy and pushy— You don’t know enough about the business to have an opinion. “I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the world’s heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, it’s to say, “C-K.”

“Cicero.”

“Y’know why I’m able to pour mas queso into this fuckin’ kid?” He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. It’s bad to think he’s pretty when he’s annoyed, isn’t it?

You tilt your head, “Honestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.”

Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. “It’s because when I saw your dad at the table, makin’” —He gestures to you— “That fuckin’ face, I knew to pull back.”

“You don’t need to pull back.” Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyone’s liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. He’s got you. 

“Then speak on it.” And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like it’s obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer. 

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, that’s on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.

You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, “I– I mean, I didn’t invent them.” 

“It’s presentation.” Carmen nods, to himself. He doesn’t like to budge. “That first look at the table affects everything.”

“Yes.” You nod, directly across the counter from him. “I agree, I just think the plates are stupid.” 

“You got somethin’ better?”

“Think so.” You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. “Ay, Cheech! Pass me a fuckin’ basket!” 

It’s without hesitation that you hear, “Hut!” before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it. 

You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, “Easier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, they’re gonna be tossed anyways.”

“It looks cheap.” Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations. 

“It looks purposeful.” You double down, leaning on the counter just so, “It carries a story, that we didn’t forget where we started.”

“Ooh.” Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. “Kind of a bar, Chef.”

“Thank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.” You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. “Think on it?”

“No.” Carmen shakes his head, and you’re a little crestfallen, for a second. “It’s good. Let’s do the baskets, yeah—” He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.” Syd nods to Nat. “Can you look into, uh—”

“Returning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.” Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, “Please keep going.”

“Oh, uh—” Are you some sort of thought leader now? “Well, uhm, I think I heard you sayin’” —You snap your fingers at The Computer, “That R and D cost is a little high?”

“A lot high.” He corrects.

“Kid with crayons.” Jimmy tuts, “Need to pull back a little.”

Carmen’s screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jar— Marmalade, it’s for Syd’s drink. He made it this morning, it’s labelled down to the minute.  Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. He’s been dying for this moment and it’s being thrown off by this bullshit. 

He can’t keep biting his tongue, “Hey, uh, why don’t you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?”

You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmen’s ass. You put one hand up in front of the old man’s face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. “He didn’t mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.”

“Does he now?”

“He does.” You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. “Right, Carmy?”

Poor Carmen nearly deflates, “...I’m tryna be the guy.” 

“Not what the guy does, baby boy.” You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. “Guy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.”

Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. “S’that right?”

Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, “S’a facet.” 

“....Well, just don’t do it again.” A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened. 

“I love to see a family come together.” You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, ‘R & D - Cost: Bad’

“Bring it from bad to good.” The Computer notes very helpfully. “You can cut—”

“Hol’ on.” You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, “Just think about it first. We don’t have to go straight to cutting. Let’s look at our options.”

“Your options are fucked.”

“Just—” You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. “Widen the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargers— How else can we ‘return’ shit? Carmy?”

Thank God you’re the guy, because Carm can’t hack it. “Heard? Yes?” And frankly, he doesn’t want to.

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

“Supplies. Food— Y’know, lot of trial and error.” He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morning’s session. But you like that, right? “Trying new things, y’know?”

“...Carmen.” He doesn’t answer, because he can hear he’s in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. “Sweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckin’ bus tub?”

“Yes, it’s got a blood orange reduction, but– But Syd suggested mint—” 

You don’t let him finish, “Is it poison?”

“It’s not.” “It’s edible?” “It is.” “Okay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?”

Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. You’re perhaps… a dash upset.

“We can’t eat everything.” “Did you offer it to the crew?” “Yeah—” “You offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheech— All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?” “...Heard.” “Did you take a bite of all of these?” “Not all.”

You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, “Okay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckin’ food waste apps— Too Good to Go, or somethin’. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel ‘bout that?”

You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better. 

“...You keep a binder or somethin?” Is all Carmen can think to ask. 

“Steel trap memory.” You tap the cap of the marker to your head, “Good though?”

He nods, “Good.”

“Good.” You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. You’ve also been dying to get to this menu.

But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in hand— Didn’t Mikey get you that? It  was meant to be a gag gift but it’s actually quite useful. “Chip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckin’ sucks?”

“Re-lax.” You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Syd’s drink. “Syd told me ‘bout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever it’s called?”

“It’s—” Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. “It’s an idea I’m floating, for now— It’s what the best restaurants do, and— And even if we don’t have full intent on getting a star, right now, it’s still important.”

“I just think…” You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. “It doesn’t exactly give you the most room to collaborate or create—”

“The whole point of it is to collaborate and create—”

“Oh yes,” —As if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, “What wasssit? ‘Vibrant Collaboration’ and ‘Constantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroboros’.”

“Relax.” You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. “You don’t have time to be creative or collaborate when you’ve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.”

Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, “But the—”

You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. “Did you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?”

“Well, no, it’s not viable to perfect that in such—”

“A short amount of time, angel?”

“Oooh…” Richie mimics Syd’s movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, ‘Mad mad.’

Carmen’s two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasn’t even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible idea—

“You don’t have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, you’re gonna have to cut corners on what you’re willing to experiment with.” You reword, more productive, better for his brain. “Plus, prix fixe is a fuckin— In—In my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.”

Carmen’s willing to give up the daily rotation, he’s not so willing to give up the pre fixe. “It’s what the best restaurants do.” Carmen loves the word best, huh?

“Have those restaurants—” You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.

You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. “You’re thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customer— A- A guest, for a second.”

Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, “Let’s do a little roleplay, alright? Let’s say we’re just average people, not workin’ at The Bear, and we’re goin’ on a date.”

“When?” “...When?” “When is the date?” “No, I’m— It’s— This is hypothetical.” “Yeah but in the hypothetical.”

You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. “I dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.”

“Oh, so you’re doing good.” Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, “Weekly date night is a cornerstone.” 

“Moving on.” You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, “I’m not a foodie, you are— In this hypothetical. You’re looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bear— You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,” —You list off on your free hand— “prix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you can’t go off of reviews either. Also, it’s a new place, so you can’t really ask around for opinions.” 

“Right.” Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmy’s got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carm’s mopey expression. 

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcast— Not upset, just can’t take feedback without keeping his head down. “Prob’ly not, yeah.” 

You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. “People are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new food— But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehand— And they’ll need to be able to choose.”

He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, “But. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, y’know, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. That’s how some of the best places do it.”

Carmen’s eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. “You do keep a binder.”

“Syd does. I just pay attention.” You shake your head. “She mumbled about it all night when we got back.” 

Adamu is immediately aghast, she should’ve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. “You said you couldn’t hear me!”

“No, I said you weren’t bothering me, and you weren’t.” You can’t hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but you’re happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. “Hand me a lowball.” 

With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of  the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.

“It’d probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?” And so you throw him a bone. “Like Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on what’s in season with local vendors?”

“What grows together goes together.” Tina says, nearly sing-songy. “Farmer’s market is rough though, Jeff.” 

“Fuck a farmer’s market— With love, fuck a farmer’s market.” Back to writing on plexiglass you go. “We gotta do vendors, maybe f’ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmer’s market, but it’s just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, it’s just not— It’s not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?”

Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. “That cool with you, T?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s cool with me.” Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeable– To anyone but you, that is.

“Why’s— Why would T not be good with that?”

“She’s in charge of farmer’s market.” 

“Hm.” You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. “T, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?”

“Ooh?” She tilts her head, shrugging, “Yeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.”

“Not me.” You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. “Them.” 

“I’ve paid my sous chef dues.” Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them. 

“You need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmer’s market once in a while to remind you.” You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. “Non-negotiable. Heard?”

A soft, simultaneous, “Heard, Chef.” from your cats. 

“Good.” You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. It’s a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.

You slide the drink over to Syd. “I can’t drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based on— I don’t care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.”

You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and you’re quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.

Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. It’s got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. It’s strong. Resilient. It’s made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmalade— Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.

Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. She’s quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass. 

“Ah… what else? Rapid fire.” You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve them— As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while. 

“Opening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, I’m right.”

Richie’s. Also served over ice in a lowball. It’s similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbon— A good one, but not too good that it’s a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience. 

“Wine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by default— Whatever works.” 

Marcus’. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and what’s in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight it’s actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcus’ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, you’re going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?

“I don’t understand why I couldn’t just grow these microgreens myself in house. They’re just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?”

Tina’s. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua fresca— With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?

“Why are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violet’s Violets— I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone who’s nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and you’ll be set for life.”

And of course, Carmen’s aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because it’s important to try. You’re almost certain it’s too much though.

“Napkins…” You rub your icy cold hands— From shaking up so many goddamn drinks— Over your eyes. “Why are we renting?”

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer. 

You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, “Well, it’s like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, y’know, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, ‘hey, actually, we’re gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins back’ even though you’ve —again— Literally had them for years—”

“Chippy, are you good?” Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isn’t. 

“We—!” Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isn’t, ignoring the question. “We can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem ‘em ourselves. We—” You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. “We can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.”

“That sounds nice…” It’s Carmen’s turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. “It also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?”

“Fuck no.” You’re quick to shake your head. “I fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my blood— No, my—” Oh. “Hold on.”

Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. “Oh, put it on speaker.”

You’re annoyed before he’s even answered, knowing the headache you’re about to get. “Trust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not need—”

“Hey!” It’s impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons. 

A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. “Hey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princess—” Oh, he’s mad. The whole ‘slew of nicknames when you’re pissed off’ thing? Yeah, that didn’t start with you. “Did someone die? Because that’s the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!”

You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. “Y’know, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.”

Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. “Please tell me that’s not true.”

“Oh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, aren’t they?!”

“Dad—”

“I should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.”

“Noted, Big C-K.” Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. That’s gonna require a long talk down later. 

Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasn’t time. ‘C-K?’

You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel ‘Chicago’s Kindest.’ He’s not the best with acronyms. 

“Oh— And thank you for bringing that up! And what’s this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people ‘fore I hear it from you?”

“I got a long-term bartender gig that’s actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Cicero’s got stock in the place, actually.”

“How you doin’ C-K?” Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.

“Ah… I’ve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!”

There’s a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say. 

You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, “Anyways, I’m still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. It’s not like I brought in that much business anyway, I’m not pulling a foundation.”

“Everytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!” 

“It’s not dying! It’s alive! It’s present and alive!” Don’t get flashbacks. “Anyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favour—”

“Ooh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bail—” 

“For the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!” You grumble, continuing. “Remember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?”

“It was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logos— And and— you have to remember—” You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what he’s going to say, “that it all starts in your community— And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me… And also it’s fun.”

“Well… If it’s fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?”

And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairman— Well, former, but still. He’s simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.

“For who?” “Restaurant. The Bear.” “Why?” “Cause they need linen napkins.” “How many?”

You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, “Bout seventy to a hundred covers a night.”

“Six hundred.” “Pay?” “We’ll pay supplies, and I’ll give you like—” You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. “A thousand?”

“A thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!” “I work here, okay?! Discount me!” “My God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?”

That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? …Or something?

After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. “Ah–Uh, Syd co-owns the place.”

“Oh, Adamu?!” 

Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. “H–Hey, Mr. CK.” She waves, despite the fact that it’s a phone call.

“Hey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!”

“Alright!” You bring the phone back to your face— It’s remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. “I didn’t realize you were best friends.”

“Of course we are. Y’know she brought me this uh– this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.”

You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. “You bring my dad food?”

She whispers in return, defensive. “He lives on my block, don’t be weird.”

“For her, I’ll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, can’t imagine trying to move on top of that.”

Your turn to blue screen. Moving? You’re immediately over the love thing. “...Pardon?”

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

“No– Yes, sorry, yes dad that’s great—” You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. “Syd, you’re moving out?”

She sighs, “Trying to.”

“Pops.” You straighten up, not looking away from her. “I’ll call you back to sort details later, okay?”

“Sure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park or—”

Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, “Yeah, we’ll figure it out, love you, bye!” and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. “When you tryna move?”

“Like, soon as possible.” She stretches out her shoulders. “My own dad is sort of… Encroaching on my space.” 

“Right.” Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and you’re trying to temper expectations. “You wanna live by yourself?”

“I mean, I don’t really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same ‘low budget’ as me.”

The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, “And why are we talking about—”

But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, “I need to move out asap and have a ‘low budget’.”

That’s Carmen’s queue to chime in, he loves your place. “What happened?” 

Also Richie’s, “What? Chip, your spot’s like a historical site, ya can’t move.” and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.

“To make an extremely long story short, I don’t have a choice.” You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. “My sweet old lady landlord— The only landlord I’ve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckin’ big business gentrification ass company— I’m not in a rent controlled zone so they’re gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spot— They also may or may not have found out that me and Loretta— My landlord— Haven’t exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.”

“Meaning?” Carmen knows the answer will be bad. 

But it’s somehow worse. “Meaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying ‘do you want to keep living here?’ and I say ‘yes’, and we continue on.”

“Well, hold up—” Richie holds a hand up, like he’s a genius. “Squatter’s rights?”

“I thought about going that avenue, but—” You gesture to Syd. “If you’re already moving, and looking for a roommate?”

She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, ‘pros and cons’

“Pro.” You murmur as you write. “I have a better credit score than you.”

Syd sputters, half sarcastic. “Well, that’s just uncalled for.”

“It’ll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!” You defend.

“In-unit laundry…” “Your eyes just lit up in such a sad way.” “Con. You are an ass.”

“That’s a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation I’m gonna need you to take care of them, and I’m not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and they’re dying I’m gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.”

“Violently honest.” “Pro. Mostly direct. Aside from when I’m not.” “Con. I’m not direct.”

“Con. That’s fine but if I get the idea that you’re mad at me I’m gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you don’t want to throw me out the window.”

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

“Pro. I’ve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when you’re moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. I’ve lived by myself for a while, and I’m very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, I’m not giving that up.”

Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, “But, but like, underwear though, right—?”

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

“Don’t be weird.” Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.

Who’s whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. “‘Don’t be weird’? You don’t be weird.”

“I’m not bein’ fuckin’ weird—” “Then why are you up in my shit—” “Up in your shit? Oh wow—” “Fully not what I was referencing—” “Don’t be weird, cousin!” “I literally— I did not even move— Not a single cell in my body—” “And— And you only know that ‘cause you had to lock it down, you dog—”

“I don’t remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?” Uncle Jimmy interrupts.

“I’m just takin’ care of my boy, Unc.” Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. “Can’t be too careful.”

“You super can, and you super are.” You grimace, elbowing him again. “And also, not important–!”

“Actually, no, very important.” Syd of all people interrupts. “Non-negotiable, like you can’t— …Like you— …When I’m home it’s like— Don’t—” Ah.

You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. “Syd, I wasn’t planning on it. That’s like roommate rule one.”

“Syd.” Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, ‘watching you’. “Don’t be weird.”

“What the fuck—”

“Everyone shut up, pros and cons—!” You shout, gaining the attention back. “Pros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already,  you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.”

“...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.” “I think I could swing that.” “Pros. You’ll never have to cook again. I guess that’s my only pro, actually.”

“Con. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if I’m moving I am going to have to adopt her, so we’re gonna have a cat. She’s cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, it’s called.”

“What’s her name?” Squid’s not excited per se, but she’s not saying no. 

You shrug. “I never named her, let’s name her together.”

“No, that’s too much pressure—” “No, you’ll do great—” “What do you mean I’ll do great—?” “Three–” “Oh like together together? No! What—?!” “Shut up, just do it, head empty, two—” “No! I’m just not gonna say any—” “Yes you will, Squid. One!”

And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, “Calamari!”

“There we go.” You write ‘Calamari’ on the plexiglass. “That’s my girl— That’s our girl, actually. I’m still not sure if she’s a girl.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. “Non-negotiables?”

Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. “I need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.”

“...Do you have a fuckin’ lactose intolerance?” “It’s my me time!” “Alright! Fuckin’ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows… and uhm…”

Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, “You have a big non-negotiable…”

“It’s not that big… It’s more a group thing than a roommate thing, really…” “What is it?” “I think… It would be fun… If we all started playing Dungeons and Drag—” 

There’s an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, you’re still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, “I honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! I’ll D-M, I’ll make it so easy— Please?”

Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. “Y’know what, you’re never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.” Still a win. 

“Okay.” You hum, capping the marker. “So… Aim to move first of February? You down?”

It takes some time, and you realize as Syd’s brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. “Sorry, that’s going too fast, you think on it—”

“...I’m down.” You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. “Yeah, let’s do it. February. I’m down.”

“I’m so happy for you two, but I’m still fuckin’ reeling— Chippy, it’s– it’s— So many memories—” Richie’s being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. “I mean, come on, first time I’d ever been stabbed was on your block.”

“Sorry, what?” Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out they’d be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than he’d like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. “Stabbed on your block?”

“Yeah,” You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, “I— Yeah, there’s no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckin’ scared.”

“You were tweaking!” Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him it’s a charming story— You’d probably be laughing too, if Carmen didn’t seem so… unpleased, let’s say. “You fuckin’ thought I was gonna die!”

“You fucking were!” You slap Rich’s hand away. “It was so close to a cerebral artery— First and last time I’ll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to God—”

“What’s the story?” Oh, new face from Carmen you haven’t seen before, bewildered annoyance, you’d describe it as, it’s going in your bottom five. “You live in a bad neighbourhood?”

“It’s rustic—” You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. “Oh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. You’ve been there, haven’t you?”

“Yeah but it didn’t seem that bad— No— Hold on, go back, stabbed why?”

“So I heroically defended a boy from crooked—” Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. “Richie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of ‘em stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.”

“You got stabbed by a kid?” Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up for—

“Yeah, and wouldn’t be the last time, would it?”

“Richie, c’mon…” You reach up, patting the guy’s shoulder. “It was an accident and she apologized—”

Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, “Mm-mm.” 

And so yours raise in tow, “...Fuck you mean ‘mm-mm’?” And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. “Syd, you apologized, right?”

Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, “Syd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?”

Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. “I— I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.”

“Hm.” Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. “Yeah, I’ll take it, I guess. Would’ve liked a card.”

“I am not getting you a card.” “I’m jus’ sayin’ I’d’ve liked one.”

Carmen’s still five steps behind, “Are you gonna be fine living there? In January?”

You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. “I’ve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think I’ll be fine for another month, sweetheart.”

“Crime is bad in January.”

“I was a first responder, and I know that’s not true.” You shake your head, shirking off laughter. “It’s actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.”

“Point of order.” The Computer finally pipes up again— Might’ve forgot he was here, if you’re honest. “What are we talking about anymore?”

“Point of order— I feel like numbers— Talking numbers is great but it’s all just like— Paper, y’know?” You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. “We should be talking more.”

Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. “Heavy that, Jeff.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, like—” You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, “Did y’all know until right now that Syd was moving? …No, right? Let’s like— Fuckin’ remember to check in, like y’know, family, Chefs.”

And without calling her out, you can feel Tina’s demeanor next to you change, relaxed. 

“Heard, Chef.” Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.

 “Y’know. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!” A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce. 

Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, “...What’s everyone doing for the holidays?” Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. “...Or not.”

You volley back for him, “If no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lil’ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a ‘goodbye old apartment’ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?”

“Not gonna go up to Oak Park?” Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other. 

“Meh.” You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. “We’re not so intense about holidays since everyone’s aged. I’ll visit my nephew on New Years.” 

“I’m doin’ Eve with Eva, but I’ll be free on the day. I’ll come by. We doin’ gifts?”

“I mean I got you something, so,” You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. “Catch the fuck up.” 

Syd pipes in, sniffing. “Me and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so I’ll come.”

“Incredible. Two down.” You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. “You guys? Tina I assume you’ve got a loving family and shit?”

Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. “I do have a loving family and shit, but maybe I’ll come by late with them too?”

And Marcus tacks on with her, “I’m gonna be with my mom most of the night, but I’ll come through for a couple hours.”

“Perfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!” You hum, writing names down on the glass board. It’s kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. “Richie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?”

“Yessir.”

“And us!?” Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldn’t be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.

You yell back without turning to him. “Yes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckin’ plus one for you though!”

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

“Oh, make me a fuckin’ sandwich, big man!”

“Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ sandwich!”

“Oh, my dick!” A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. “Berzattos… Holiday plans?”

“I think we’re gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.” Sug hesitates, she’s looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. “I was gonna ask what Carm’s plan is…”

“I’ll go. I’ll go.” Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. “I’ll go. And I’ll come to the party, after.” 

“I’ll probably just go home with Pete after. Baby’s first Christmas, y’know.” Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. There’s a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense there’s something dancing in the air, you’re not going to overstep on this front. 

“Mazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. …Now let’s talk about the important grievances.” You hum, happy to end that chapter.

You turn just slightly to gently slap Richie’s cheek as he stands next to you. “Rich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me off—”

“What’s with the fuckin’ drive by?!” “It’s been on my mind forever— You can’t be wearin’ suits and then be rockin’ that unkempt shit, clean up—” “I’m clean! I’m fucking clean!” “Who said? Who fuckin’ said? Cause I sure didn’t!” “How’m I s’posed to be linin’ my shit up every mornin’—” “You do not grow a beard that fast—” “Oh fuck you, I’m not fuckin’ Carmen, I grow a fuckin’ beard.”

Carmen’s just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. “What– Now that’s a fucking drive by, what the fuck?” 

“If we’re voicing grievances, I’d like to voice my fuckin’ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over here—” “Who the fuck is sublimating now?” “You’re not usin’ that term correctly, cause you’re not integrated—” “I thought you two worked this out on the road trip!” “We did!”

You only half regret starting this feud with the beard comment— To be fair, you’re right. “This is it working?” 

“This is, in fact, it working.” Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point. 

“Alright.” You slap your hands together. “Richie, what is your complaint?” Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now. 

“Carmen is fucking killing me.” The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. “He won’t change shit for guests!”

“No substitutions!” It’s almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together. 

Richie scoffs, head reeling back. “What happened to it bein’ about hospitality?” 

“I mean…” You suck air through your teeth, squinting. “If we’re sayin’ no substitutions, it’s no substitutions— Unless it’s like an allergy or sensory thing— But even then, it shouldn’t be like a major component getting replaced.”

“See? See?” It’s almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that you’re on his side. “Fuckin’ thank you. This is why I lo—” 

Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmen— Not the pointed side, he doesn’t want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carm’s chest as Richie stutters out, “F-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutions— What the fuck am I supposed to say then?” speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmen’s mouth, muddling them. 

You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. “...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages —uhm— explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comforts— So eat a fuckin’ mushroom, you’re not gonna die.”

“If they don’t like mushrooms—” “Then they shouldn’t order it!” “How hard is it to just fuckin’ switch it out!?” “So hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!”

“I could do it.”

“Could you?” You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. “Okay, roleplay, you’re Carmen, I’m you—” Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. “I know you wanna be a bitch, I’m askin’ you to just skip that part for me.”

His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. “How am I supposed to be in character if I’m not allowed to be a bitch?”

You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. “Chef, patient—” Instincts never give out, huh? “Christ, patron doesn’t want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.”

“Ah, well I’m happy to do that for you, Host Richie, I—” He’s going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick. 

You speak over him, voice stern, “Chef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?”

Richie’s head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.“Fuckin— Fucking– Eggplant.” 

“Eggplant?” You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing. 

“It’s a sauce isn’t it?” You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. “It’s like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?”

He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. “It’s a ragout. Low and slow cooked stew—” Carmy’s ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps that’s too romantic for a public setting. God, he’s weird about love. “We keep it going on our back burners all day— It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you can’t just sub it.” 

“Yeah, well…” Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. “Well, I didn’t know that. You didn’t explain that shit to me.”

“I don’t have time to hold your fuckin’ hand—” Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. “I can’t explain why I do everythin’ I do when I’m— When we’re in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we can’t do it. Trust that I thought it through.”

Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth don’t upturn just slightly, has to make sure it’s not clear that he is overjoyed that there’s finally middle ground, can’t get his hopes up. He nods. “I just wanna make everyone happy, y’know?”

“I know. You’re—” Carmen’s nose scrunches up for a second, God, he’s never had to say that he think’s Richie’s good to his face. And he’s not gonna start now, “Eggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.”

Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. “Maybe I could look into knowin’ restrictions faster and estimatin’ their orders, so you can have ‘em on deck?”

And Carmen does think that’d be a waste of time, but he’s learning. He hears it out. “Could give it a shot, yeah.”

“Same team.” Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.

“Same team.” First time you’ve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you can’t help but smile, though you’re trying to hide it. You’re too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances. 

Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. You’re Chip. You’re the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone. 

You’re the guy. Always have been, always will be. 

The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. “Can she deal with the butter thing?”

“What the fuck is the butter thing?” You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. “What’s the butter thing?”

Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week? 

“It’s the best.” Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. “It’s—”

“Carm.” Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. “Making it worse.”

“Angel is like, the worst it can get.” Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say ‘what’s the point of paying bills?’ And you’d have to pull him aside. “Can’t get much lower than that besides—”

“Light of my life.” You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. “Apple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?”

Carmy’d like to say no. “...Yeah.” But you already started walking before he even answered, so there’s not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmen’s got a second before he gets devoured. 

He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen what’s left of his cocktail. “You need to lock the fuck in.”

“I know.” Carm returns, shooting down all that’s left of the lowball. Why’s Richie’s the sweet one? Why’d Carmen get the cough syrup drink? That’s not fair. Do you not think he’s sweet? “Thank you for the— Intercept.” 

Richie nods, he’s been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldn’t stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. “Just think with your brain, not your—”

“Don’t.” “Was gonna say heart.” “Sure.” “Don’t be weird.”

“I know it’s expensive.” Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, “But it’s normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know it’s different—” He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting. 

It’s facing you, you’re reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesn’t know what’s on the piece. 

“Carm.” You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. “This is not another restaurant.”

Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. “We’re not just another high-end restaurant. We’re us. And so we should be doing things like us. We’re the best, we don’t need the stuff to be.”

He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.

“It’s—” You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, he’s very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. “Hold on, let me show you somethin’ — I think I left one in here.”

You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull out— A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.

“...Has that been here the whole time?”

You nod. “Like threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling it’s origin story. It’s part of the first set I ever got.” You grip the flat wooden handle. “It’s the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.” 

That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You look up from it to him. “It’s a handmade set. Dad’s dad made it.” You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. “It’s got a flat wooden handle, made of poplar— So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, it’s also so fucking slippery. It’s part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.”

“Sounds fucked.”

“It is.” You laugh, and so does he. “It’s purposefully meant to piss you off.” You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the wood— All from the times you threw it at something— Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. “You ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, bein’ the youngest and all?”

Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. “Just assumed you were the best.”

That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmen’s overjoyed by the sound. “Yeah, I’m probably the best. But that’s only cause I kept up with it.”

You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, “When our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdrivers— Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and they’d quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess I’d cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.”

“Tricks?”

“Like.” You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. “It’s really good if you’re screwing from the top down.” Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. “It’s balanced. And it’s really all in the grip— Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.”

You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. “But if that doesn’t work, and you just can’t get it to work—” You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at the— “Just make your own grooves, it’ll be easier to hold.” Tiny teeth marks. 

“Carm.” You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. “I’m the best repairman because I can work with anything. You’re the best Chef because you can work with anything. You don’t need the best when you’re the best.”

He’s the best? 

He’s the best. 

He’s the best. 

“I truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.” 

Carmen’s the best. You think he’s the best. 

He’s gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.

“I dunno bout all that.” He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back. 

“Well I know ‘bout that.” You shrug back, “I’m actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing who’s good and who’s not.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. “...Painting is very good.” He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. “Or I guess it’s less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?”

“Yeah.” You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. “Most of them I took.”

“They’re good. It’s—” He pauses, tongue against his teeth. “It’s nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethin’.”

You nod, seeing Carmen’s brain struggle to keep pace in real time. “We took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it work— Or, that you could make it work, rather.”

Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fists— Probably too tight— where they hide. “Yeah, kinda fuckin’ up my end of the bargain, hm?” The light laugh that follows is hollow.

“Eh. You both did.” You smile, though it’s hesitant. “ But at least you’re still here fixing it.”

Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. “I was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.” He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him. 

“11k for butter,” Carm’s head doesn’t move but his eyes raise to you. “Is a week. More than a week.”

Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikey’s life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikey’s sobriety. 

All you can do is nod solemnly. “It is, yeah.” 

He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. “That’s too much.”

“I’d agree.”

“I’ll switch to local.” You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them. 

“I think that’s the right call.” You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl it— Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Well— Not completely, he’s not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. He’ll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.

“Come to dinner with us?”

would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"

was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach

DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!

anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt

oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)

@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant

[kalopses-sonderes]

Hey, hyper anon here...had this idea for a self aware cookie run x readers series or one shot If you're interested! It's kinda based off your imposter au!

Y/n gets transported into game and brought before the imposter! The imposter starts talking but then y/n claims they wanna talk to the imposter in private! When they talk in private, only the imposter and y/n, y/n reveals that they just want to live a normal life among cookies and they are totally fine with the imposter being the ruler of the cookies because they seem very cool and being a ruler seems too stressful (bonus: y/n doesn't feel worthy of being the cookie's ruler as well because they don't have powers or something like the imposter does...and bonus bonus if the imposter can do stuff like summon amazing cotton candy and stuff to bribe cookies with!) Imposter calls cookies in and apologizes for the misunderstanding and 'mistaking (favorite flavor) cookie as an imposter' and apologizes by helping them find a home and a place!

Oh and later on...cookies read imposter's dairy and discover that imposter is...well an imposter, and what their baker said to them and the little...deal they made (imposter being ruler, y/n just living their life as a normal cookie citizen of kingsom) but has an evil yet good plan (good in y/n's unknowing eyes, bad in cookie's eyes) where the imposter has slowly been bribing y/n and winning their heart so even if they are found out, y/n is singing their praises from on high and would vouch for them! (Example of bribes: giving y/n their favorite sweets, becoming their closest friend...which leads into something that would horrifying cookies more because jealousy, showing y/n amazing tricks, and taking them to places one could only DREAM of and more!) Thing that horrified cookies: the imposter was first doing it out of manipulation but is clearly starting to actually LIKE the baker and wants to be their friend...not to charm em to have the cookie's sweet baker singing their praises!

So, in order to get their y/n back and make y/n sing THEIR praises instead and make y/n WANT to he the center of their world...they start counter bribing! They start doing nice things to and for y/n, claiming that it's because they want to welcome y/n at first and then slowly up the spoiling...giving y/n more and more attention, making sure y/n is melting at THEIR fingertips and not the imposter's...making y/n desire them and not the imposter.

And when time is right...imposter is exposed! Imposter tries to get y/n on their side....buuut y/n can't resist the cookie's siren call of a sweet beckon and possibly a cute saying along the lines of 'oh sweetheart, come to [cute nickname they call themselves]' or 'oh [cute nickname], you shouldn't stress about this buisness...come, let's go home and [activity they like or find relaxing...examples, go bake some monster muffins to munch on or go cuddle or give y/n a backrub or something]' and it makes y/n go running to them like a savior unable to resist a siren's call.

A/n: Omg I want this to be a series, so this is gonna be like mostly my brain rotting rambles and small portions of little fics so we can build off it later on in the series

All the writing in purple is the little fics, default color is just my rambles and headcanons about it

“Imposter for Baker? Count me in!”

Series masterlist

- Just imagine little cookie y/n plopping into the cookie verse like “oop, guess this is my new life now.” They just start living a normal life on the outskirts of their kingdom so no one can find them. Cause, if you you were transported to a new universe, you would think you were their god/baker or they were gonna try and hunt you down. Soooo y/n decided to keep to themselves and not let their presence be known yet.

- BOOM! There’s news of the “baker” being spotted and brought to the big castle to take there throne and high power blah blah. The Imposter looks similar to you, just with purple eyes(If you have purple eyes… now you don’t). You can’t tell what the true bakers eye color is because the statues aren’t painted, so the imposter fit the bill well.an they had powers! It has to be their baker then!

- Y/n is absolute happy about that! They get to sit back and relax, they go in public now and just tell cookies they just were “ blessed with the looks of their baker” and how they aren’t them. Some of the cookies were extremely skeptical but let it slide since they said they weren’t their baker and weren’t trying to impersonate them, cause the imposter is totallyyyy the real baker!

“You look oddly familiar..” Pure Vanilla looks Y/n up and down.

The cookies surround Y/n, trying to figure out why you look exactly like their baker.. just with your boring eyes, not neon purple eyes like their totally real baker has. Espresso has a magnifying glass in your cookie face, looking at all the detail.

‘Uhhhhhhh… I was just blessed by our baker, and uh, they blessed me with their beauty and I’m not them. I don’t have purple eyes or cool powers! I’m just trying to live a normal life like everyone else.” You say, any normal person would have seen right through you and what you were saying, but the cookies believed you. You weren’t claiming to be their baker so they have no reason to not let you live a peaceful life, it could just be an odd coincident!

“Well they don’t seem like their lying.. Guess they get to go peacefully for now till the Baker decided what’s to do with them.” Milk shrugs, everyone nodding and humming in agreement with Milk.

- Once the imposter finds out you’re there they are instantly scared. What if you go hunting them?! Or take the throne and execute them?!

- They order a few cookies to go collect you so they can have a one on one talk with you disguising it as a dinner twitch their “look a like” for funnies. Once the cookies bring you back, the imposter leads you away to a more secluded room in the castle so no one can spy on you both as they question you.

“This is my throne and-“ The imposter started once they closed the door the small storage room.

“You can keep it, I don’t want to be the ruler of this kingdom, just live a normal life.” You interrupted, you looked pretty calm about the whole ordeal while the imposter looked like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Wait.. what? You’re just gonna let me keep it.” The imposter look dumbfounded, not actually believing you’ll let them keep at this power. They thought they wold have to threaten you or make an official announcement that you’re an imposter and let the cookies hunt you down for the. “Not even gonna put up a small fight.? I didn’t even get to finish my monologue I worked so hard on..” :(

- You got to live a pretty normal life under the imposters rule. Until Pure Vanilla decides to go through the imposters room and found a diary, I snooped through it and read it….. Finding out you’re the real baker! -insert Pure Vanilla doing surprised pikachu face- He was flabbergasted(I love this word so much for no reason) He didn’t expect to be worshipping the WRONG baker the entire time and their real baker was being bribed to like the imposter and be their friend. So if the imposter gets found out, you’d take Imposters side over the cookies! He also found out how you never wanted to be Baker and let the imposter take your spot! D:

- It clicked in Pure Vanilla’s head, you have been spending loads of time with the imposter and received even as house from them and gifts. He came up with an idea to also bribe you! He gets the other cookies in on it.. It’s basically a full on war!

- your house is basically full of gifts from all the cookies and you’re absolutely clueless on what this about and you didn’t mind it at first till you could barely see your living room floor from all their gifts piled up in there!

Who will win the real baker? Imposter or the cookies? Find out on the next episode of “Imposter for Baker? Count me in!”

A/n: kept it very open ended so the other parts of this series will fit well :D

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 40: Home

Jackson holds a celebration. The final chapter of Yearling found on Tumblr in its entirety here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7.7k

A/N: We are through the spoiler-y portion now and you're all OK to read from here if you just want to see how the fic starts to come to a close. There is no more overlap with TLOU 2.

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter

December, 2002 

“Is that pot?” 

Your oldest brother, Brendan, damn near jumped out of his skin, looking around frantically for a moment before his eyes settled on you and he calmed, his hand going to his chest. 

“Shit, bug,” he said. “Yell it, why don’t you.” 

“If I yell it, Mom’ll take it away,” you said, joining him at the fence on the edge of your father’s property, climbing up and perching next to him in the moonlight. “But that means I need motivation to keep my big mouth shut so you’d better fuckin’ share.” 

He scoffed but passed you the joint, anyway. You took it and breathed deep, pulling the smoke into your lungs and holding it there until the urge to cough was too strong and you gave into it, handing the joint back to your brother, clouding the winter air with a pot-scented haze. 

“Jesus, getting high with my baby sister,” he chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

“It’s because you’re getting old,” you teased lightly. He smiled and shook his head, taking a hit before passing it back to you. You took a hit, too, a smaller one this time, trying to make smoke rings as you breathed it out. “So. How’ve you been?” 

“Good,” he nodded slowly, taking the joint back. “Thinkin’ about starting up my own ranch…” 

“No shit?” You asked, brows raised. He nodded. “Good for you. Think you’d be good at it. I do gotta ask though… This have anything to do with Amanda?” 

You teased out the last word and he laughed. 

“Was waitin’ for that,” he said. “Talked to Mom have you?” 

“Here and there,” you said. “You really ask for Gran’s ring?” 

“Jesus…” 

“C’mon,” you elbowed him. “You’re thinkin’ of marrying her?” 

“More than thinkin’,” he smiled a little. “If I’m marrying anyone, it’s her.” 

He took another hit and passed the joint back to you and you nodded, mulling that over in your head. Your brother, settled down enough to get married and start a ranch of his own. It seemed like a completely foreign concept but it was one you liked. 

“You’d like her,” he said after a few minutes. “Amanda, I mean. She might come to New Year’s, think you two would get on like a house on fire. She’s studying to be a vet, specializing in large animals. Only person I know who likes horses as much as you.” 

“Damn,” you said, taking a hit yourself. “She does sound great. Too good for you, that’s for damn sure…” 

He snorted. 

“Don’t I know it.” 

You passed him the joint again. 

“Can I ask you something?” You said after sitting in silence for a minute. 

“Shoot.” 

“How do you know?” You asked. 

He frowned. 

“Know what?” 

“Know that…” you sighed. “I don’t know, know that she’s the one? That you want to marry her and all that shit?” 

He smiled a little, nodding knowingly as he did. 

“Well,” he said. “Sounds dumb, but… when you know, you know.” 

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed. 

“I’m serious,” he said. “You’ll know. But… Well, she’s my favorite damn person. I don’t want to do anything without her if I can help it. I love everything about her, even the shit that drives me nuts. Mostly, though, I just want to live life with her, you know? Want to go grocery shopping and do dishes and fuckin’ mow the lawn… all that shit. It all sounds great because it’d be with her. That’s how you know.” 

You nodded slowly, trying to imagine feeling that way about anybody. It didn’t really seem possible.

“Don’t sweat it too much, bug,” he said, clapping you on the shoulder. “You got plenty of time before you need to worry about that shit. No need to rush into it. Just wait until the time is right and you’ve found the right person and then you’re good. It’ll all work out in the end.” 

He was right, you thought as you nodded again. You had all the time in the world but, eventually, you’d find someone you’d want to share it with. Even if that sounded insane now, you thought you would. You looked up at the cold, December sky, the universe stretched out before you and you took a deep satisfying breath. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I think it will.” 

***

July 20, 2029 

“Joel, where the hell is your wife?” 

Tommy and Joel both looked at each other before looking to Maria, confused. 

“Don’t think it was my turn to watch ‘er,” Joel said, setting his whiskey down. “Actually, think it was the exact opposite of my turn to watch her what with tradition and all…” 

“Well maybe it should have been because I can’t find her,” Maria said, clearly flustered. “I’ve checked your place, her old place, the room she was supposed to be getting ready in…” 

Joel smiled a little to himself, shaking his head and getting up from the table. There was one obvious place Maria hadn’t checked. 

“Maybe she’s gettin’ cold feet,” Tommy teased, smirking. “Lord knows she’s too smart for you, anyhow. Maybe she figured it out…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, adjusting the collar on his shirt. He was in too good a mood to even give his brother shit back. “Don’t think it works that way if you’ve already been married a year and a half. Besides, I think I know where to find her…” 

“Just tell me,” Maria groaned, half-heartedly trying to stop him. “I’ll go. It’s bad luck for you to do it.” 

“Think we already had more than our share of that,” he said, giving her a wink. “Think we’ll be OK.” 

He left his brother’s kitchen and started toward the stables, walking in the opposite direction of most of the town, everyone making their way toward the gathering place in the middle. They gave him warm smiles and nods and congratulations as he passed and he smiled back, a little bubble of warmth in his chest that swelled as he made his way to you. Because while Maria might not know where you were, he sure did. 

He heard you before he saw you. 

“You’re doing good,” you said. “Try not to let your fingers get ahead of where your mind is though, that’s where you’re stutterin’ a bit…” 

“Easy for you to say,” Joel almost heard Savvy’s eyes roll as she teased you. “You don’t have as many fingers to keep track of.” 

You barked a laugh at that as Joel came into the stable. You were perched on the wall of Perseus’ stall, Savvy and Ellie sitting on either side of you, the guitar he’d made for Savvy in her arms. She noticed him before you did, giving him a little smile. 

“Here,” she said, passing the guitar to you. “You should play something Dad likes since you’re getting married today and all.”

“Look at you, bein’ all sentimental,” you teased lightly back. But you took the guitar and drummed on it for a moment before settling on a song. “Alright, this is the first thing he ever played me. His version is better but this song always makes me think of him now.” 

Joel just leaned against the door, watching and listening as you played I’m On Fire, that warm glow in his chest somehow growing as you did, wondering if you could possibly be any more perfect. You were wrong about one thing, though. Your version was better.

It had taken you a while to pick up the guitar again. You’d been back more than two months when he came home from a short patrol to find you on the couch, the guitar he made you in your arms and a determined - if frustrated - look on your face. You glanced up at him when he came in before looking back at the instrument. 

“I’m tryin’ real hard not to throw this,” you said, arranging your intact hand on the neck of the guitar. “But it’s pissing me off.” 

“Think I’d rather you throw the pillow,” Joel said wryly, coming to sit beside you. You rolled your eyes. “Want to show me?” 

“Not really,” you said but you did anyway, starting to play the way you had for years and then seeming to forget that you had two fewer fingers, notes missing and fumbled and you shouted in frustration, almost throwing the guitar before clenching your jaw and moving to set it on the coffee table. Joel took it from you before you could, setting it on the other side of the couch before pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head. 

“You were sounding good there, baby,” he said, stroking your arm. You scoffed. “Mean it, you were.” 

“Yeah, I was playin’ a mess of bullshit there at the end,” you said. “Real good.” 

“It’s gonna take time, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You spent a long time playing the way you used to. Takes a while to adjust. You’ll get there…” 

“Because there are so many famous eight-fingered guitarists,” you muttered, your voice thick. 

“Sure, but you’re better than every guitarist I’ve ever heard of,” he said, tugging you closer. “You will get there, baby. If anyone can it’s you.” 

You sighed but snuggled into him and he hoped that you believed him. He wasn’t just saying it. Something inside him knew that you’d find a way to make music again the way you used to. 

He was right. It took a few weeks - a few weeks of almost perpetual frustration - but you got there. He watched it happen, the moment it seemed to click into place almost startling in its clarity. You were playing in the kitchen while he cooked, not really working on anything in particular, just seeing what sounds you could pull from your instrument and how you could make them work together in that way you had when, all of a sudden, you played a few notes in quick succession. Joel frowned to himself and glanced over his shoulder, hoping you weren’t paying attention to him. You weren’t. You were intently focused on the guitar, your hands frozen on it for a moment before you did it again, adding more chords this time. The next thing he knew, you were playing the riff from Layla, laughing as you did. 

“Joel!” You looked over to him after playing it a few times and he’d stopped pretending he wasn’t watching you, just leaning against the counter so you had the space to do what you needed to do. “Did you hear that?” 

“Yeah baby,” he smiled. “Sure did.” 

You made a giddy little noise and carefully arranged the guitar in your arms again before starting over. He had to practically pry the instrument away from you when dinner was done but you were beaming when he did, even though the place where you’d lost fingers was bleeding from the guitar strings. 

Joel made you something after that, a simple piece of leather that covered that sensitive place and looped down around your wrist. It seemed to work wonders for you, making it easier to play guitar and work with the horses and he let himself feel good about it. He’d done something for you that made your life here better. He could still take care of you, still give you what you needed. They hadn’t taken that, too. 

It still took a while for things to get back to normal. Or close to normal, anyway. After everything that had happened over the last two years, Joel didn’t think there was any real way to go back. You still woke up afraid some nights, his leg still bothered him more often than not. But there were good changes, too. Savvy had moved into the bedroom you’d set up for her, happy to have her mother to come home to again. Ellie came around all the time, often with her girlfriend in tow - something that had taken Joel by surprise but had settled into quickly. You’d even become more involved in Jackson, joining the council in the most recent election after Maria encouraged you to run. When the results had come in you sat there, wide eyed, for a moment before you got up and smiled and thanked people for voting for you. It was the shortest acceptance speech Jackson ever had. 

While he wouldn’t want to go back and relive the worst of those times, he was starting to think the heartache was there for a reason. It was to get you both here, to this place, building your family and community together. 

You finished the song and Ellie and Savvy clapped and you scoffed. 

“Sounded real good there, baby,” Joel said from his place by the door. You didn’t jump at the sound of his voice, instead just looking over your shoulder back to him. “Tryin’ to show me up?” 

“Nah,” you smiled, handing the guitar to Ellie and jumping down from your perch. “Never could with I’m On Fire. Other shit, though…” 

He laughed and shook his head a little as you walked over to him, a blissful smile on your face, and he gave himself a chance to really appreciate you in that moment. 

Joel always thought you were beautiful. You were beautiful when he’d first seen you in the forest years ago now, you were beautiful when you fell asleep against him when watching movies, you were beautiful when you came home covered in sweat and dirt and the smell of horse. But damn, were you ever beautiful here, like this. You were in a white eyelet lace dress that went down to your ankles, dropping low enough at the neck that the swell of your breasts were going to be a constant fucking temptation. Savvy had made you a crown of flowers that sat on your head and Joel’s old wedding band hung on a chain around your neck and your cowboy boots had been polished to shining and damn did he want to sweep you off your feet and carry you back home to hide you away from everyone else looking that good. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the most beautiful woman on the damn planet?” He asked as you draped your arms around his neck and his hands found your waist. 

“You,” you smiled, your eyes crinkling at the edges with it. “From time to time.” 

“Should say it more then,” he smiled back. “Been slacking.” 

“You’re not supposed to see her, you know,” Ellie said, trying to sound stern but smiling a little instead. “Maria told me.” 

“Well someone decided to sneak away without tellin’ anyone where she was headed,” Joel teased lightly. 

You just smiled broader. 

“The important people knew where to find me,” you said. 

Joel looked between you and the daughters you shared. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Suppose we did.”

He took your hand and the four of you headed for the middle of town, Joel kissing you goodbye in a spot that was a little tucked away so not everyone would catch a glimpse of you. 

“You’re too damn pretty,” he smiled. “Don’t want to spoil it for everyone. See you up there?” 

You smiled back. 

“Try and stop me.” 

Joel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so happy as when he watched you walk down the aisle toward him. The two of you said more traditional vows this time, Savvy and Maria by your side, Ellie and Tommy by his. There was something about making promises to you publicly, where everyone the two of you knew could see, that just felt right. You exchanged new rings this time, ones made of the antler of a moose Joel had felled a few months earlier, him slipping yours on your middle finger this time. When he kissed you, the rest of the town fell away and it was just you and him, the way it felt like it should be.

The whole town celebrated after, tables put out on the grass and lights hanging from the trees. Someone had rigged up a sound system and the children of Jackson chased each other, weaving in and out of tables shrieking and giggling as they went. You and Joel were sat at a head table with the girls, Tommy, Maria and William and Joel kept his hand on your knee all through dinner. 

To kick off the dancing, Joel tugged you onto the floor, your chin tucked into your chest, and swayed slowly to Hallelujah, so like you had the first time he danced with you, before everything had fallen into place this way. You smiled and pressed close to him, moving alongside him in front of everyone the two of you knew in the world and Joel was happy. 

Back at your table, he was just starting to think of a way to steal you back to the house when Ellie gave you a look, jerking her head off to the side. You gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled, a little nervously. 

“See you in a second,” you said, before following Ellie, who was whispering conspiratorially with you. 

“What in the hell…” Joel frowned, watching you. 

“Just have to wait and see, Dad,” Savvy said, looking far too pleased with herself. 

He didn’t have to wait long. You and Ellie returned with your guitar and a boom box, Tommy setting up a chair for you in the middle of everything so everyone could see you before cutting the music. 

“Hey, everyone!” Tommy yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “Pay attention to my baby sister!” 

The whole of Jackson obeyed and Joel could tell that you were fighting the urge to just go and be next to him, far from the public eye. Instead, you stood next to Tommy, the guitar Joel made you dangling from your hand, Ellie standing nearby next to the boom box. 

“Thanks, everyone, for comin’ tonight,” you said, your accent thick like it was when you got nervous. Joel smiled a little, the sound of home coming from your lips. “Means a lot to us that you’re here and sharing this with us. It means a lot to me, especially. I know it took me some time to settle in here because I ain’t had somewhere to call home with anyone other than my daughter for a real long time. But here feels like home, and the way everyone here has welcomed us… it means everything to me. 

“Now, a lot of y’all may not know it but…” you took a deep breath and Joel could see you try to swallow your nerves. “I’m something of a musician. I don’t much like playing for anyone besides family but since I feel like y’all are family now, well… seemed only appropriate I play for everyone here tonight.” 

You sat down and rested the guitar on your lap. 

“Music’s always been the way I get my feelings out,” you said, now focused on Joel. His heart swelled. “I’ve never been great with words and I love you just doesn’t feel like enough when it comes to you, Joel. This ain’t much but… feels closer at least.” 

You gave Ellie a nod and she pressed play on the boom box and Joel had to fight to not tear up as you played, the song growing and swelling as it went on, the boom box adding in piano and violin. The music was beautiful and intimate and made Joel think of the quiet mornings he spent with you in his arms, trailing his fingers over your the curve of you, your breath warm on his skin, gently kissing his way over you before the world woke up and it was just you and him and the love you made together. He loved those mornings with you, he wanted countless more of them and he could practically see them now, laid out in front of him like the world at his feet.  

When the song ended, the whole of Jackson was silent, the only sound the rustle of the breeze on the trees. You tugged your lower lip between your teeth and, for half a second, looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you up. But then, all at once, everyone broke into applause, thunderous and adoring and you gave Joel a bashful look. Ellie took the boom box and your guitar to stash them away again as you made your way back to him, what seemed like everyone in town on their feet for you as you went. 

“Hope that wasn’t too embarrassing,” you said as Joel pulled you in close. 

“Baby, that was incredible,” he said, giving you a long, deep kiss. “I didn’t even know you’d been workin’ on the piano and the violin again!” 

“I know,” you smiled a little, pressing close and tight to him. “You’re a hard man to surprise. But once I figured out the guitar, I wanted to get those back, too. Tommy even helped me tune the piano at my old place.” 

Joel looked to his brother who gave him a small salute before he turned back to you. 

“You’re amazing,” he said, resisting the urge to take off with you then and there. You just rolled your eyes before he kissed you again and he tried to be content with just having his arm around you as everyone in town made their way up to congratulate the two of you. 

After what felt like a small eternity - and a few more dances with you - Tommy finally leaned over to whisper in Joel’s ear. 

“I’ll hold down the fort and make sure the girls are all good,” he said. “Get outta here before you lose your damn mind.” 

“Thanks, man,” Joel clapped him on the shoulder and Tommy just gave him a lopsided smile, one that Joel would would call paternal if it came from anyone else. He supposed it did from Tommy, too, now. It was still an odd thought, his brother finding his way to a wife and a place in the world before Joel had, that Joel was the one playing catch up and, in some ways, relying on his brother for help and guidance. But with you, it felt like he’d more than caught up. He’d come out ahead. 

“Hey,” Joel gave you a little squeeze and whispered in your ear. “What do you say we get outta here, Mrs. Miller?” 

“Really?” Your face lit up and Joel smiled and nodded. “Oh thank fuck, I don’t think I can talk to anyone who isn’t you or the girls again for a week…” 

He laughed a little, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s sneak out…” 

Joel took your elbow as you got up, the dance floor full as Tommy got to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone again. 

“Ladies and gentleman!” He yelled. “For the last time tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”

Joel gave him a look and Tommy gave him a wink as everyone turned and clapped. You and Joel waved goodbye before he put his arm around your waist and pulled you tight against his side, leading you home. 

*** 

“Mrs. Miller,” Joel trailed his nose over your cheek, his words quiet in your ear. 

“Hm,” you grunted in response, eyes still closed. 

“C’mon,” he said softly, his hand smoothing over your stomach that was still covered by your wedding dress. “Gotta get up, we got places to be.” 

You opened a skeptical eye at that. The ceiling of your bedroom was painted orange by the sunrise and Joel was there, smiling down at you, his curls still a little unruly from where your fingers had wound in them the night before. 

“Where do we have to be?” You asked. “Pretty sure we get the day after our wedding off.”

“We do,” he said, his hand gliding over you, between your breasts in the low cut of your gown, over your chest to cup your cheek. “But still want to get an early start. Made you coffee, let’s go.” 

“Early start for what?” You asked, sitting up now. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “You’ll like it, promise. Think you can ride a horse in that pretty dress of yours?” 

You gave him an incredulous look. 

He laughed. 

“Fair enough. Then let’s get goin’.” 

“Do I need to pack a bag or anything?” You asked, trying not to groan as you got out of bed. 

“Already handled,” he said. “All I need is my beautiful wife to come along for the ride.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Think I can manage that.” 

You had coffee and slices of leftover wedding cake with Joel before walking with him, hand in hand, to the stables, the sound of Jackson just coming to life around you as you went. 

It felt a little silly to still be in your wedding dress but, you had to admit, it was a damn nice dress.

Staying in it the night before had been Joel’s idea. His lips had been working their way over your throat to your ear before he whispered to you there. 

“That dress of yours comfortable?” He asked, a little breathless. 

“Yeah,” you panted, pulling back just enough to frown at him. “Why?” 

“Because,” he said, taking a moment to nip at your lower lip. “Did things backwards our first wedding night, already had you naked when we said our vows. Kinda want to have you in the white dress, make a real pretty mess of you in it.” 

You smiled, reaching up and trailing your fingers through his hair. 

“Whatever you want, Mr. Miller.” 

He made you come four times in that dress the night before and you passed out in his arms before you could will yourself to move enough to take it off, too tired from the day of celebrations to bother changing once he was done with you. 

It had been Joel’s idea to have a wedding ceremony. He’d brought it up a few months before, once you’d fallen back into life in town again, things as normal as they could be now. You still sometimes felt the ache of fingers that were no longer yours, you still sometimes woke up afraid that your daughters were gone, but you’d healed, too. Your skin was no longer broken and raw, you could play the music you loved again, you could go down the hall and look in on Savvy when you woke up afraid she was gone. 

“We’re already married, Joel,” you laughed at him, your feet on his lap as you played guitar one night when Savvy was out with Kyle. Orion snuggled closer to your knee. “You forget that just because we don’t wear the rings anymore?” 

“Never forget that,” he smiled a crooked smile at you as he massaged the arch of your foot. “One of the best damn nights of my life. But… I think now’s a good time to celebrate that with our family. Girls weren’t there for it, neither was Tommy. Think it’d be nice to do it again with them.” 

You nodded slowly, mulling it over. It wasn’t a bad thought. You did want to share that with Savvy and Ellie, especially now that Savvy would actually be happy about it. And you knew that Joel had missed Tommy and Maria’s wedding, something he regretted now that he had a proper life here in Jackson. You understood why he’d want his brother there. You’d want your brothers there, too, if they were still alive. 

“Sure,” you said eventually. “Let’s do it. Have witnesses when you make promises to me this time around, really hold you to that shit…” 

He laughed at that. 

“Damn right, baby,” he said. “You can hold me to whatever you want.” 

Plans quickly grew, though, from just your family to family and friends to the whole of Jackson. Warren manipulated patrol schedules so there would be one afternoon that everyone was in town, damn near every chair and table that could be moved set up for the reception. It had become more than a celebration of you and Joel, changing into something celebrating the peace the city had known in the year since Mitchum’s downfall. 

The raider attacks became almost non-existent, patrols hunting down the smaller side groups and wiping them out quickly once Mitchum’s control fell away. After that, even the threat from infected lessened. With fewer people in the forests in the miles around Jackson, there was less reason for them to be there. Patrols had become quiet and mostly peaceful, the town no longer afraid of what they might lose every time the gates to the city opened. 

You were happy for the excuse for the focus to not be entirely on you all night, anyway. You’d never been comfortable being the center of attention and, while you liked having a chance to actually show how much your husband meant to you after years together, having that many eyes on you got old fast. Going home just you and Joel had been a relief. 

“Hey there love birds,” Olivia said when you got to the stable, two sets of reins in her hands. “Ready to get underway?” 

“Think so,” Joel said, taking the reins from her, Renaissance and Ares both packed like they were leaving for a long patrol. “Thanks for doin’ this.” 

“Hey, anything to get her to take a break,” she gave you a wink. “Lord knows she deserves it. Have fun you two.” 

“Joel,” you laughed, almost nervously, following alongside him as he led the horses to the gate. “Where are we going? What’s going on?” 

“You’ll see,” he smiled a little as you reached the gates, handing you Renaissance’s reins. “Just have to keep up.” 

You raised your brows at him and he laughed. 

“Alright, just have to let me lead for a change, how about that?” 

“That, I can do,” you smiled. 

It was an easy ride, you following where Joel led, smiling and laughing and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the forest as you did. For a while, you so rarely left Jackson after Mitchum. No matter what Joel and Tommy and Maria and Julie said, it didn’t feel safe. The worst things that had ever happened to you had happened outside those walls, it just wasn’t worth the risk to leave. If you were inside, in the house you shared with Joel and Savvy or at the stables or the Tipsy Bison, everything would be OK. 

But you missed the outside, too. You missed how crisp the air was when you were outside, the sound of the animals in the wild, the way the world spread out in front of you vast and unclaimed. 

Joel, Ellie and Julie had been easing you back into it. Julie asked you for help collecting fruit for one of her cocktail plans one day. You’d been hesitant but she convinced you, your whole body stiff the entire two hours you were outside, hyperaware of everything around you. But because you were so aware, you noticed everything too, things you’d missed like the rustle of the grass and the way the air smelled. You were a little more willing to go then. 

Ellie told you she wanted to practice shooting as she got ready to go back out on patrol, taking some time off from it after everything that happened. She asked you when Joel was busy and Olivia was there to take over at the stables and you knew it was contrived but you went with her, anyway. She kept you talking, pointing out different birds and asking questions about things that you knew she knew the answer to but it did make you miss being out in the wild more. When you told her you knew better, Ellie kept pretending she had no idea what you were talking about. 

Joel, at least, hadn’t tried to couch it in anything. He’d been holding you one morning when neither of you had to be anywhere, his fingers trailing gently up and down your arm. 

“Been thinkin’,” he said quietly before pressing his lips to your forehead. “We should take the horses out, go on a short trail ride.” 

You frowned. 

“Why? They’ve been gettin’ plenty of exercise, don’t have any that need to be tested outside of town right now…” 

“Because you could use it,” he said. You stiffened but he kept tracing his fingers over you, up and down.

“Joel…” 

“You’ve been gettin’ out here and there,” he said gently. “And I know you miss it.” 

“I miss how it used to be,” you corrected him. “It’s different now.” 

“Don’t have to be,” he said. “Just come with me.” 

You sighed, but he kept going. 

“Just a few hours, not gonna take you far,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, trying to calm your nerves as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes locked on yours. 

“Would I try to get you to do somethin’ that wasn’t safe?” He asked gently. You gave him a look and he smiled a little. “I’ve got you, baby. Just you and me where you can open the horses up and get back out in the trees a little. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ve got you. S’OK.” 

His eyes were so soft and his face was so open that you sighed and agreed. The first time had been scary. You only went for a few hours but you couldn’t relax the entire time you were gone, fully outside what felt like Jackson’s control for the first time since you’d come back. But Joel was right. He stuck close to you the entire time, always watching for any kind of threat, always ready to protect you. You made it back to Jackson in one piece, the only shots fired to take down a few stray infected ambling through the area. 

He gradually got you to leave the walls of the town more and more, even convincing you to bring Savvy and Ellie along one day, and you realized - as you sat on a picnic blanket with your husband and daughters - that the safety may not have been the walls of the city after all. It may have just been Joel. 

You felt comfortable now, outside Jackson with the man who had become your home, your safest place, your husband twice over. The trees were thinning, four hours into your ride and off the more beaten path. You looked at Joel, brows raised and he smiled. 

“That’s where we’re headed,” he said. “When we get to there, go ahead and open ‘er up, you’ll know where to go.” 

“So mysterious,” you teased and he shrugged, smirking a little, as you broke through the trees. 

The sight was almost damn near idyllic, a small lake that was clear as glass, a cabin with a big front porch complete with a swing sitting on the other side of it. You looked at Joel, mouth open in shock. 

“Me n’Tommy found it few months back,” he smiled. “Been fixin’ it up. Plenty of space for us, the girls, anyone they want to bring along. But… wanted to break it in right, just you and me. Besides, pretty sure I’ve owed you a honeymoon for a while now.” 

You laughed, almost giddy, and pushed Renaissance into a full gallop, skirting along the edge of the water, standing in the stirrups so the air sent the skirt of your dress billowing out behind you. You rode her up to the porch, slipping out of the saddle before she’d come to a full stop, too excited to get a look at the place. You realized there was a small dock just off the porch, a rowboat tied to the side of it, and wildflowers among the grass outside the cabin. 

“I do OK?” Joel asked, getting off Ares and coming up alongside you. 

“This is amazing,” you said, awed, as you took it all in. “I can’t believe you did all this, it’s…” 

You couldn’t find the words, just looking at him, a small smile on his lips. 

“C’mon,” he said, taking your hand and leading you up the front steps. He opened the front door but stopped you from going through it. “You gonna let me carry my wife across the threshold? Always wanted to do that with you in a wedding dress.” 

You laughed a little and draped your arms around his neck. 

“Think that can be arranged.” 

He bent and swept you off your feet and into his arms, making you laugh. 

“Then let’s go, Mrs. Miller.” 

He carried you through the front door and into the living room, some faded couches and mismatched arm chairs around a fireplace. Behind them was a table big enough to have the whole family gathered around it, a set of stairs beyond that and a kitchen off to the side. There was a bundle of wildflowers in a jar of water in the middle of the table, a shelf of board games and cards sitting next to the hearth. 

“Give me a few minutes to get the horses settled,” he said, setting you down and kissing your temple. “Then I’ll show you the best part of this place.” 

You took your time taking in the place, how much care you could tell Joel and Tommy had put into it. You could see places in the wall that had been patched, shelves that had been mounted. There were stores of canned foods in the cupboards, a canister of tea, a jar of honey, even a pair of matching mugs, both chipped with little owls on them that made you smile. In the living room, there was art on the walls: one of a horse grazing in an open field and another of a deer standing next to a moose in a clearing. You smiled, leaning in closer to see Ellie’s signature in the corner. 

“She wanted to contribute,” Joel said from behind you and you turned to face him. He set packs down on the couch and you smiled as he came to you, putting his arms around your waist and tugging you against him. He trailed his lips along your forehead, your temple, down toward your throat, his hands slipping up your sides to slide into the low neck of your dress, making you moan. 

“Want to see my favorite part about this place?” He asked, heat on his voice. You just nodded  and he pushed the top of the dress down, bearing your chest to him. “No one around for miles. All alone out here. So I can have you all to myself, naked, in that water out there.” 

He took the globes of your breasts in his large hands, cradling the weight of them gently in his palms, squeezing you and you groaned at his touch. He kissed you, dipping his tongue into your mouth and you pulled at the buttons of his shirt, opening them one by one. 

“Should get me naked then,” you said breathlessly when he pulled away from you ever so slightly. “That water looks awful inviting.” 

You undressed each other quickly then, Joel’s shirt and pants ending up in a heap on the floor, your dress draped over the couch. He took your hand and led you outside, pulling you along into the cool water. It was smooth and clear on your skin, the sandy bottom of the lake soft on your toes. He pulled you deeper, until the water was up to your shoulders, before tugging you against him. You smiled and he tilted your head so he could kiss you, his thumb over your cheek, fingers curving around the back of your neck. 

“I can’t believe you did all this,” you said quietly as he held you close. His thick, hard cock was pressed against your stomach, your breasts pressed against his wet skin. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he smiled, his forehead against yours. “I want to give you everything, baby.” 

You reached and put your arms around his neck, arching your back against him. 

“You already have,” you said softly. “You gave me you.” 

His hands drifted lower, cupping the round of your ass and lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His cock was pressed against your slit and you moaned at the feel of it, the way the water and the tip of him moved against your clit already making your pussy tighten. He lifted you, dragging the thick of his length over your sex until he notched his head at your entrance and he moaned. 

“Goddamn baby,” he said, voice tense with want. “Can feel how warm you are inside already…” 

He pulled you down onto him, his cock pressing into you slowly, slow enough that you could feel how he opened you to him, stretching you around him. You groaned, burying your face in his neck and breathing in the smell of him. 

“Fuck you feel good,” his mouth trailed over your neck, your bare shoulder. “So goddamn good, taking me so well…” 

Your fingers sank into his skin and you pressed yourself impossibly closer and tighter to him as he bottomed out inside you, your clit pressed against the base of his stomach, the whole of him thick and heavy inside you. 

“Joel,” you whimpered. “You’re so deep, feel so good…” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he breathed, taking his hands from your ass to your back to clutch you close. “I know.” 

He held you close and tight and you managed to pull your face from his neck to look at him, your eyes on his, noses brushing, breathing into each other as the water cradled you both. You moved together, every rock of your hips and thrust of his slow and aching. You weren’t able to tell where he ended and you began and you could feel his breath quickening as the heat inside you grew stronger, your channel getting tighter. 

“Want you to come for me,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Need to feel you, come on baby and come for me.” 

You could only moan in response, his thrusts growing firmer as you pressed your clit against his skin, his arms tightening around you. You were right on the edge, so close exploding around him. 

“Come with me,” you managed, clinging to him. “Please, I need to make you come, please…” 

He cut you off with a kiss, swallowing your needy sounds, moving in you desperate and claiming. Your orgasm built higher and higher, drawing you so tight around him it seemed impossible until he pulled you so close it almost hurt, body flush to his as you felt him come undone inside of you. 

It only took a moment for the pulsing of his cock to set off your own orgasm, making you throb and flutter around him as rope after rope of his come filled you. For a moment, it was as though you and Joel were the only people left in the world, the way he was around and inside you the only thing you could be sure of then. 

He held you after both your orgasms eased, his softening length still inside you, your head on his shoulder, your arms around him as his lips brushed your neck. The water was still and quiet around you, a soft breeze on the air and you smiled against his skin, a sense of peace settling over you as you did. 

It had taken so long to reach this point, so many years of pain and healing, so much you needed to move past. But it had all led you here, where you were together, where everyone you loved was safe and happy and you didn’t need to be afraid anymore. 

Joel’s hand trailed slowly up and down your spine and he pressed a kiss into your skin. 

“I’m so happy we got here,” you said quietly. 

You felt him smile against your shoulder. 

“Me too, Bambi,” he said, kissing you again before pulling back from him just enough to look you in the eye. “Come a long way in the last few years.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Hard to believe,” you said. “I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this. I didn’t know it was possible to have something like this.” 

“Me, too,” he said. “Makes it feel like all the shit we went through to get here was worth it.” 

“Yeah,” you said, kissing him gently. “It does.” 

You looked in his eyes, just appreciating him for a moment, the tan of his skin and the gray of his hair and the wrinkles and the scars that told the story of everything that he’d survived and felt deeply that he was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever held. 

“So,” he said after a few minutes. “Since this is a honeymoon and all, we got the place to ourselves for as long as we want it but figure we’ll want to get back to the girls before too long. What are you thinkin’ baby?” 

You hummed for a moment, considering. 

“Well,” you said. “I do miss the girls. But… I like having you all to myself. Think I want to stay here, where I can take advantage of the fact that I can get you naked whenever I want, for at least a few days. Maybe a week.” 

He smiled. 

“Week sounds good,” he said. 

“Plus,” you said. “We can always come back in the future. Have as many honeymoons as we want.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled wider. “We can. We got time.” 

You kissed your husband, soft and slow, before pulling away and smiling back at him. 

“We do,” you said. “We have all the time in the world.” 

A/N:

Hi, everyone!

I cannot believe we are here. Exactly one year ago today I published the first chapter of Yearling and now I'm publishing the last.

Thank you so so so much for going on this journey with me, Joel and Bambi. These characters have meant so much to me over the past year and it has been just an absolute joy to share them with you. I hope you've enjoyed how they've grown together and built the life they'll have from here on out.

If you'd like to keep reading what I'm sharing, I am starting up another few fics. There's an AU of Yearling that you can find here and I am working on another Joel fic that is a no-outbreak AU where Joel is reader's bodyguard. It's called The Savage and the Sanctuary and you can find that here.

I've always been bad at saying goodbye, so I won't do that. I will just say thank you for coming on this adventure with me and for all the love and support you've shared. I hope to see you again soon.

Be well, take care of yourselves, and spread a little kindness in the world.

Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust @ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost @beccerjune @mumma-moonchild @netonetoneto @mellymbee @purplelye @n7cje @flugazi @evyiione @randomhoex @aliengirl99 @orcasoul @reds-ramblings @pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel @jenispunk @panda-pascal @sarap-77 @flugazi @your-slutty-gf @daniegraceg @partyofone3413 @cumberpegg @noisynightmarepoetry. @fifia-writes @grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123 @ashleyfilm @arizonadreamingg

[atlabeth]

(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start. 

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you. 

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen. 

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary. 

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.  

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.” 

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.” 

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.” 

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon. 

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously. 

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.” 

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it. 

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.” 

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.” 

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?” 

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.” 

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out. 

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh. 

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” 

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good. 

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.” 

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.” 

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.” 

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.” 

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.” 

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.” 

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?” 

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.” 

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.” 

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.” 

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.” 

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.” 

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.” 

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.” 

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left. 

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.” 

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.” 

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?” 

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.” 

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.” 

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.” 

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?” 

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?” 

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?” 

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.” 

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.” 

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.” 

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.” 

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.” 

-

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.” 

You frowned. “Why?” 

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.” 

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?” 

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.” 

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.” 

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention. 

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him. 

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.” 

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?” 

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.” 

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.” 

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?” 

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink  of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground. 

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.” 

“I hope so,” you murmured. 

“Luke, who’s the new girl?” 

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes. 

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked. 

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.  

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer. 

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.” 

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.” 

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.” 

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all. 

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged. 

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.” 

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she  could put her things down, y’know.” 

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.” 

“‘Course,” he said. 

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.” 

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” 

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.” 

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.  

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.” 

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood. 

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.” 

You blinked. “The god?” 

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.” 

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?” 

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.” 

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on. 

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?” 

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.” 

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave. 

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step. 

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.” 

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.” 

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.” 

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?” 

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.” 

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.” 

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.” 

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.” 

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.” 

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way. 

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two. 

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t. 

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something. 

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name. 

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word. 

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you. 

“How’d the tour go?” he asked. 

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.” 

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.” 

—

“You’re not holding it right.” 

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him. 

“You’re still not holding it right.” 

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?” 

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.” 

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?” 

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.” 

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.” 

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.” 

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.” 

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.” 

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?” 

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.” 

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.” 

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.” 

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.” 

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.” 

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.” 

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time. 

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.” 

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.” 

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand. 

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.” 

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.” 

He winked. “Thank you.” 

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life. 

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime. 

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while. 

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be. 

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed. 

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you. 

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?” 

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?” 

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign. 

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.” 

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.” 

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.” 

“In training,” you said. 

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.” 

“And my—” 

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.” 

That gave you pause. “Bee?” 

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly. 

“Just explain it,” you said. 

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.  

“Sure,” you said. 

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral. 

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you.  “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?” 

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.” 

“‘Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.” 

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!” 

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling. 

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you. 

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates. 

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor. 

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you. 

“Hey.” 

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more— 

“Are you okay?” 

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned. 

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured. 

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back. 

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?” 

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled. 

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.” 

Still, you stared at him. 

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.” 

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out. 

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights. 

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance. 

“So,” you repeated. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked. 

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder. 

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?” 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.” 

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said. 

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.” 

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted. 

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.” 

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.” 

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.” 

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.” 

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.” 

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.” 

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly. 

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.” 

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.” 

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.” 

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“Have you?” 

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.” 

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted. 

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.” 

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much. 

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said. 

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.” 

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.” 

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you. 

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?” 

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?” 

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.” 

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?” 

“We’re sneaking out even more?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised. 

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.” 

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.” 

-

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” 

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.” 

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.” 

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.” 

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.” 

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.” 

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.” 

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?” 

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.” 

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.” 

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?” 

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.” 

Luke shrugged. “You asked.” 

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.” 

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said. 

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” 

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused. 

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.” 

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.” 

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.” 

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.” 

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected. 

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.” 

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?” 

“I like it,” you said. 

“The ocean?” 

“Not so much.” 

“And the darkness?” 

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.” 

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.” 

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.” 

“Why do you always do that?” 

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?” 

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.” 

“Luke—” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat. 

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand. 

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again. 

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.” 

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure. 

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

-

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.” 

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.” 

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two. 

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.” 

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.” 

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said. 

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.” 

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.” 

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.” 

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.” 

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.” 

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.” 

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.” 

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled. 

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.” 

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.” 

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?” 

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.” 

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.” 

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?” 

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.” 

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.” 

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?” 

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?” 

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?” 

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.” 

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.” 

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly. 

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.” 

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.” 

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.” 

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.” 

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.” 

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together. 

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”  

-

“Luke,” you whispered. 

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you. 

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?” 

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.” 

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.” 

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.” 

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.” 

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.” 

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.” 

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.” 

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?” 

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused. 

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.” 

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch. 

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.” 

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.” 

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?” 

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind. 

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”  

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’” 

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion. 

“Wh—” 

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself. 

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche. 

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst. 

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over. 

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.” 

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed. 

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!” 

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

 “Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.” 

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.” 

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.” 

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out. 

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory. 

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…” 

“Serene,” you suggested. 

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. 

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.” 

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away. 

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren. 

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp. 

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.” 

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.” 

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?” 

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.” 

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.” 

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.” 

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.” 

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back. 

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.” 

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight. 

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.” 

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled. 

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.” 

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you. 

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.” 

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked. 

Oh gods. You were in trouble. 

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.” 

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you. 

“Luke,” you whispered. 

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket. 

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.” 

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.” 

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.  

But you didn’t. 

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.” 

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path. 

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.” 

“Whatever you say,” he mused. 

-

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.” 

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly. 

“You— you’re—” 

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you. 

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings. 

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings. 

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you. 

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth. 

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost. 

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 1x08 After the Rain (Part 1)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Last episode of Season 1 - let's do this!

Family Time

These big family scenes are some of my favorite - mostly because there's usually so much going on during them, and everyone gets a beat. Anthony's sulking (and throwing groundwork for Season 2); Gregory and Hyacinth are bantering, Benedict and Eloise are hyping up the Lady Whistledown plot, and Colin's in the background pouring over his maps, because after all the drama he is peacing outta there.

Violet enters exclaiming that Francesca will be returning (because it's the finale and we should try to have all 8 in the same room again). Colin snarks that she can update them on how great not being in London is. Glad to see Colin's continuing to add humor back in his life, but oh man is he ready to be anywhere but there.

Also, Violet recounts all the drama of the season from Daphne and Simon to Anthony and Siena, though she fascinatingly does not mention Marina.

Penelope and Marina

Meanwhile, back at the Featherington Estate, Penelope goes to check in on Marina. She is fine after her bout with the tea -- but now thinks she's magically cured herself of pregnancy. Ah, the medical information of the 19th century. Poor girl.

Penelope isn't so sure, but she really knows nothing about medicine anyway, so she kind of just lets it go.

Penelope then remarks that Marina caused 'quite a flutter'. And it's interesting - despite some of the friction that was caused between the two of them, I still believe that Penelope still likes Marina, in general, and while it's clear Marina is anxious to return home, I do think Penelope will miss her being around - she did add a little spice to their day.

I have to wonder, too, if Penelope does feels slight guilt for causing such a tizzy herself? But then, I don't think she does. I think she believes she did the right thing -- but still feels awkward about it with Marina.

Marina then apologies for the whole ordeal. And I do think she's sincere here. She did what she thought was best and in her own self interests to protect herself and an unborn child. And now that she thinks it's all over, she can go back to being her again.

Marina goes on to say that Penelope was right - that Colin is a good man with a good heart, and I mean -- the pride in Pen's eyes. She's almost bashful about it, but she's like - I know how good he is. I've seen it for years. Thank you for acknowledging that. It's a fascinating little look that isn't about her at all - but about someone else seeing what she does in him.

Marina then goes on to somewhat try to mend a cruelty. She doesn't have to say the next part, she could have left it at -- Colin is a good dude. But she makes it a point to acknowledge that not only is Penelope good to him, but that some day Colin will notice her. And, like, this is incredibly kind. Marina went out of her way to destroy all of Pen's hope for her own personal gain. And, maybe as an apology, or maybe as something she genuinely senses, she's restoring some of Pen's hope.

And, of course, this works as narrative foreshadowing. The show is taking a moment to say -- hey, the real love story is between these two idiots who are bumbling along on their road to each other. We're not there yet - but we're getting there. And I love that.

The scene ends with the arrival of Sir Phillip Crane, and this is where the narrative shifts. The story of Colin and Marina is done, and Marina is going to continue on with her own story into a new (and final) part. One in which Penelope really doesn't have anything to do - now that the Polin portion of the storyline is done (in relation to Marina).

Sir Phillip Crane

I really like how Penelope is kind of taking a caring and protective stance here. She and Marina are on the same side again, and while Penelope really doesn't have anything to do in this scene - she's poised as Marina's ally. She's holding Marina's hand, and has her back, and wants to make sure she's okay -- while also shooting Crane some very watchful looks.

Also, somewhat of an aside, since it isn't directly related to Penelope, we learn that George died on the battlefield, and Marina leaves -- and we get a genuinely emotional moment for Marina. And I think it helps frame her entire story, if you go back and watch it again. Marina encased her own feelings, her own heartache, her own heart. She did do everything she did out of self preservation, because she felt she was truly and utterly alone. And upon learning that George hadn't forsaken her -- she just breaks down and is able to grieve and it's a really powerful moment. I don't agree with Marina's choices, and I think it would have been a terrible thing if she and Colin had gotten married -- but I also understand her and her choices and I think she's a rather complicated character, too.

I do appreciate that this show does have more depth to it than just pretty people having sex on the stairs. There's a lot of emotional complexity in the Marina story line.

[This scene takes place six-ish minutes later, but I thought I'd lump it all together.]

Penelope is in the background here, so it gives me a minute to ponder about something... Phillip Crane is the male protagonist of book 5. Which is Eloise's book. And, I just wonder if this is really the show paying the long game here with Eloise's story? Or if they decided to just do something different? I have no idea! Marina dies from depression and attempts on her own life in the book -- and I would hate to see this character, whom we've grown to like meet that fate. Not to mention, show Eloise is sooo different than her book counterpart, it's hard to imagine her falling in love with this guy. It's all so weird. I really don't know what they're going to do with it.

Penelope has a couple of interesting reactions in this scene, however. The first being when Marina says that she cannot marry Crane because she does not love him. And Penelope is kind of nodding along in agreement here. Because she isn't there for her mother's assertion that you should just marry for the status and security of it. She does believe in love, and believes one should marry for that reason.

The other look, it's dark, and I can't quite get a read on it. But it's when Marina is telling Portia off -- stating that she's done with lies and deception and thinking that now that she's without a child she can be true to herself again. And I wonder if Penelope is somewhat envious of her gumption. How much would she like to stand up to her own mother but can't? But also - how much she feels she can't be her true self and has to use Lady Whistledown to express it? Idk what the intention of the look is supposed to be, but I do think it lends credence to the fact that Penelope is a deeply complex character, too, one whose motivations are not black or white, either.

And... that's where I'm stopping for now. :)

[destinygoldenstar]

Ninjago Dragons Rising Season 2 - Is It Good Or Nah?

So, I'm late to the party, aren't I?

Well I've had so much work that I think I'm having an existential crisis. So I had to wait till I had a free day to watch this season because I wanted to watch it with my GF.

We got to Episode 6, and then what did my boss do?

Slap me in the face with long work hours several days of the week.

I feel like I'm in a spiral of work after work after work with no purpose to life besides failure cause I can't trust myself to be capable at anything-

ANYWAY. We finished it now.

You know what the insane part about the season is? That it got the show trending on Tumblr.

That's an INSANE level of hype right there.

So I seriously had to ask myself "What the actual f**k happened in the show that caused THIS much hype?!"

So... here are my thoughts on the season.

SPOILER WARNING

Okay, so this may be a factor of my judgement, but due to my schedule, I was forced to watch only 6 Episodes one day, and then the last 4 Episodes today. Keep that in mind.

When it came to the first half of the season, was it good?

Yes. Obviously.

Was it living up to the insane level of hype?

Uh... not really for me??

Now, don't take that as a negative. This season is still REALLY good.

After the first season took awhile to get started as it needed to set up its characters and this new world, it makes sense for this season to throw the punches immediately.

The season gets started with its main plot right away with Ras immediately putting his plan into action, and by Episode 2, it's very clear the threat level he opposes and it's believable that we should be intimidated by what he wants.

Even though in Episode 2's fight, while AMAZINGLY choreographed, I was just screaming at the screen "HIT THE PERSON HOLDING THE GONG."

Like seriously, more than one of the characters in this fight can use projectiles with their powers AND they have a blaster in the Bounty, and the show never says that Ras has some sort of armor defense preventing him from getting blasted. He's literally standing out in the open. And the gong is clearly what's giving Cinder power. So HIT THE PERSON WITH THE GONG.

GOSH.

Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that this season's fight choreo is genuinely AMAZING. I am obsessed with the way the camera moves with the characters in these fights you have no idea. I was genuinely blown away by the last episode's fight in particular. But more on the ending later.

What also shocked me was how BRUTAL some of the stuff that happens here is, which caught me off guard.

I mean, Episode 2 has Euphrasia getting ambushed and crashed off the Cloud Kingdom with clear injuries, and Wyldfyre getting her leg SHATTERED. Like, WHAT?! HOW OFTEN DOES THAT HAPPEN?!! (Even though the latter's healing was unrealistic. Like, it would realistically take months for an injury like that to heal. Not a critique, just saying.)

Ras body slams Jordanna at one point. He puts Arin in a CHOKEHOLD. And also beats him up so brutally... like OMG this guy does not mess around.

The Fear Cave Trial also REALLY got me tripping. Not only was it such a visually appealing moment, but it also, as the same suggests, showed several character psyches that were insane.

Except Kai for some reason. That's gonna drive me NUTS until I get an answer. WHAT DID HE SEE-?!

Then we get to the dragon mentors, and...

Yeah the season kinda loses me in the middle.

Don't get me wrong, I love the character bits here as much as anyone. But with how dyer they made the threat of Ras before, Ras and his forces take a backseat in the middle portion of the season and we're mostly just sitting at these training grounds talking. And for four episodes of it? It's a little grating, even if it is important.

The middle is mostly where most of my issues with the season stand. And here's where I get all my negatives out of the way:

Like I said, because this season is so long, there's an awkward pause in the conflict on the dragons plotline to learn this Rising Dragon Technique. Which I wouldn't mind if it wasn't FOUR EPISODES of it.

With the exception of the attack at the Land of Lost Things ONCE, Ras's army doesn't go after the ninja at all. I can kinda get the dragons group since they didn't have Bonzle, but he has to know that they ARE a threat, right? They're obviously trying to figure out how to stop you.

And even with the group that has Bonzle, what they NEED, the forces that go after that group is the Administration and the one off magician man villain, the former really didn't need to be in this season even if it was for a compelling Jay cameo, and the latter has overstayed his welcome at this point and I just rolled my eyes when he showed up on screen.

I'm all for Cole being a badass as much as the next guy, but WHY this magician man, who at this point, is so disconnected with the main antagonistic forces that he serves no purpose?

Why not, I don't know, use this screen time instead to explain what in the world happened with Cole when he left?

Seriously, the first season had this huge cliffhanger with Cole's character and him going after Wu's ghost. I wonder what's gonna happen to him and what he's gonna find out-

Oh. He's just back.

That to me is a huge disappointment. What was the point of him leaving the Lost Family in the first place if this journey was basically nothing? He doesn't even talk about it! COME ON NOW.

Also I think Zane should get slay pass on the Administration guy that called him equipment. What do y'all think?

I don't like Egot. Or whatever his name was. He's very condescending and cryptic and talks down to his only hope of the world being saved. But I think I'm supposed to dislike him for it, and there's gonna be more of his characterization revealed later, so don't take this one as a critique. The female one is great though.

The sorceress lady was... a choice in the narrative. My one critique for the ending was the potion shenanigans. Not because they were bad, but because they just felt so out of place among everything else. Like, "Oh, this finale is too dark and intense! We need to occasionally cut to wacky shenanigans with this sorceress's magic to prevent kids from feeling too much dread!"

I don't know, for me, I would've placed this stuff with the Administration instead, and instead have the group fight Jordanna, lose, and have her get away and flow that to Arin getting to her. Especially since the Administration posed such little threat to them and they even say such.

(I also have a theory that this sorceress is Wyldfyre's birth mom. I have no evidence to back this up besides "They both have red hair and similar facial structure")

With Cloud Kingdom getting taken over and Euphrasia captured, I thought she would have more of a role to play in this since this is, you know, her HOME and she's their guardian.

But nope. She does next to nothing up until the very end and plays prisoner and waits for the ninja to save her.

For gosh sake girl, you're the master of wind. FLY.

And finally, my last critique, Cinder.

Yeah I'm sorry, I'm not buying this character so far. Not that I don't think he'll have anything to do in the second part, but for how threatening he was in Episode 2, that threat level kinda vanishes in the middle and only comes back at the end. He does next to nothing and we learn nothing about him other than "He likes power". Jordanna is probably more unlikeable, but at least she has conflict going on with Ras and her magic, and she still serves more of a role in the plan besides being a foot soldier.

And... yep. That's all my critiques for this season. Which all seem pretty minor.

You know what this season is real good at? Characters.

As though that wasn't obvious already.

I did NOT expect Bonzle to play any major role at all, I thought she was just gonna be the dry and cynical side character. But no. She has a history. She has a life. She has emotions. All of which REALLY shine through at the end when you hear her voice have more range in it. The VA killed it. I ended up feeling so bad for her.

Especially considering what happens to her.

They're also not even hiding it anymore with Geo x Cole. They're just NOT. I love them and I hope we see more of their relationship in the future.

I genuinely don't understand the critique of "Geo is so selfish referring to him as Cole's family when it's obvious Cole has other people in his life."

Well no shit, you ever heard of a character flaw?

But it's also a completely understandable flaw. You guys aren't forgetting the part where Geo was abandoned for being a mixed race, right? Of course he's gonna cling to someone as compassionate and encouraging as Cole.

The Jay cameo was nice. I expect him to play no role in this season, but it's really compelling what they showed and I was satisfied with it.

Lloyd's conflict was handled very well in my opinion.

What's it called when it's PTSD, but it's about future events rather than past events? Foresight Traumatic Stress Disorder? FTSD? Yeah let's go with that.

For a kids show that glosses over trauma, (That's not a Ninjago problem, that's a kids show problem), it was really refreshing for them to not do that for once. It's actually explored and talked about and Lloyd is given advice on how to cope with it, and he freezes up in panic attacks when these visions happen and-THANK YOU. THANK YOU FOR NOT IGNORING HOW HARD SOMETHING LIKE THIS IS.

Seriously, as someone who is going through stuff like this, minus the magic element, it spoke to me a lot. It really shows that this show grew up with me, and I both love and hate that.

I do think this sort of arc is going to hit hard for adults much more than kids.

Are kids constantly terrified of the future and getting paralyzed with these fears and finding it difficult to cope with the traumas that is time and human life?

No?

Kai is also a standout in this, especially towards the end. This is by far the best Kai has been in a long time in terms of quality. I love how one of his most significant flaws gets addressed here, that being his overreliance on himself and his own abilities over the others, who he feels responsible to protect.

And the way he grasps with that and learns to let loose like he did as a child back in the old days through what he loves the most, that being his family. And the flashbacks with him and his sister. And the whole sequence of him learning Rising Dragon - AUGH ITS SO GOOD.

How poetic is it that the character most devoted to family since childhood is only cocky and angry because of his own desire to be the one with power to keep them safe, gets power by letting that go, being a kid again, and joining the same roots as his own family?

AND THEN HE GIVES UP HIS LIFE FOR THEM-

And finally, Arin.

Oh you poor sweet, sweet child.

First of all, yes, I am completely subscribed to the theory that the show is building up Arin turning on the ninja and becoming a villain. It's all there. It all fits. The amount of times they say how sweet he is as though that's gonna get lost. The dragons, the creators of the world, the gods basically, telling him he's not good enough. Ras confronting him. Sora's stunt even after she's been the most encouraging of him, like the BETRAYAL there. It's all there. And I will be posting my theory scenario on this don't you worry.

BUT, I don't think that's the route they're gonna go. Kids show and all of that. They wouldn't do that to one of their main characters. Unless you're Star Wars. At most I think Arin will be tempted by Ras's master's power in an episode and even do it, but then with the power of love and friendship, it'll get fixed.

So instead I'd rather say that Arin, by far, has the BEST power crisis arc of the entire show so far.

I LOVE that he doesn't get powers. That's something the original show would've done. I LOVE that he doesn't figure anything out in the end and his inner doubts get proven correct. That's something the original show would not have the guts to do.

I liked Arin in the first season, but he didn't interest me too much. Mostly because Sora had the lion share of focus in the first season. Here though? He might just take the crown for THE most relatable character. And I both love and hate it so much.

Like, seeing everyone else succeed in mastery while you can't even figure out your own thing. You get told you have a natural talent and a lot of potential and that you're good at a lot of things, only for that to be put to the test in the real world and you end up letting everyone down. Even when your loved ones encourage you that you are good enough and you're special in your own way, you can't get those voices out of your head and you mess up again and again and again to try and meet the world's expectations. Then those in charge tell you you're not good enough and wasted potential. Then you try everything out in the real world anyway and you FAIL, and those that doubt you and your own insecurities get proven correct as you're left a broken mess of a young child who doesn't know what the hell they're doing-

I'M IN THIS SHOW AND I DON'T LIKE IT.

I probably love Sora more as a character, but I will admit I grasp towards Arin more right now. Sora's a great trans allegory in a world that hates trans people. But I'm not trans so I relate to it a bit less. Arin's a great autistic allegory in a world that doesn't know how to help autistic people. And I am autistic so I relate to it more. That's just a me situation.

I am so invested in where Arin's story goes from here. Evil or not.

So yeah, the season was good, but didn't completely live up to the insane hype, which, to be fair, is a high bar.

UNTIL THE LAST FOUR EPISODES.

And then all of a sudden, I AM SHOCKED AND SHAKEN TO MY CORE.

These last four episodes are an absolute emotional roller coaster that left me shaking and screaming the whole time.

I actually SCREAMED at multiple occasions.

I actually screamed so many times watching this that I am now HOARSE.

THAT'S how hard it hit me.

The story goes from 0 to 100 the moment the Blood Moon shows up. Which was what the whole season was building up to. And it did NOT disappoint.

The race to try and protect Bonzle. The intense visions and paralysis Lloyd suffers from. Ras and the army coming back to the plot to be absolute powerhouses. The last episode of DREAD the entire time to desperately try to stop this ritual.

HUMAN SACRIFICES?! AM I WATCHING A KIDS SHOW RIGHT NOW?!?!

I was begging for Arin to succeed at getting Bonzle to safety, even though I knew he stood no chance against Ras. "Come on Arin! You got this!! YOU GOT THIS, SWEETIE!!"

And then Ras just goes to TOWN on the poor boy and taunts his utter failure, which HURTS SO BAD MAN.

The entire fight with the army, Cinder, and Ras. The destruction of the mechs which knocks them unconscious for a bit. Kai figuring out Rising Dragon again when his family gets put in danger. The way Nya avenges her brother afterwards.

When Bonzle was getting morphed back into spell form, BEGGING, I was begging too.

But they still do it!

And KAI?!?!

I couldn't even process what happened other than me screaming. From the moment Ras alluded to sacrificing Kai against his consent, I was screaming "NO. DON'T DO IT."

AND THEN THEY SACRIFICE HIM.

LIKE HOLY GOSH THIS FINALE DID NOT MESS AROUND.

I predicted a while back, in the first season actually, that Kai was gonna get sacrificed at some point. Who's laughing now? I DID NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT.

Like, usually in Ninjago the character would be willing to sacrifice themselves for the others. But here? This is without Kai's consent at all. Ras might as well have killed him right here.

It definitely felt that way with the way the others react and BEG for his safety. The way Nya avenges him.

And Kai giving up his shot at escape for the sake of his family? BRO. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

It hurts even more when you realize that when the Merge happened, Lloyd was ALONE thinking only he survived. He only gained hope again because of his reunion with Kai. His beloved surrogate brother!

AND NOW HE'S GONE.

NYA AND LLOYD LOST THEIR BROTHER.

WYLDFYRE LOST HER SURROGATE FATHER.

THEY THINK HE'S BASICALLY DEAD.

BRO. THAT'S SOUL CRUSHING.

And then Sora?! Why you gotta betray Arin like that?!

The most encouraging friend towards Arin, the person who held onto hope and praises for him the most, betrays that hope and doesn't trust him enough to get the winning blow himself. Then LIES about it.

GIRL. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

That's going to be SO compelling once that gets outed. Like, morally, that was messed up and she was definitely in the wrong, BUT it led to the best possible outcome for them at the moment. They WON because she did NOT believe in Arin's abilities. Which only proves that the doubts about Arin's said abilities are correct.

And I have a gut feeling she's gonna learn Spinjitsu on top of that. And once that happens... double ouch.

Again, Evil Arin Theory.

I really hate to say it, but this reminds way too much of Arcane. If you know what I'm talking about.

I am totally imagining a situation similar to that in my head, that being a rescue mission for Kai, they decide to leave Arin out of it because of the lack of faith in him, he tags along anyway and he ruins their plan and Kai stays trapped there, Lloyd and Sora lash out on him for it, and before they can apologize they get thrusted back by something and Ras and Ras's master find Arin and take him in-

Again, I'll make a post about that.

The finale was by far the best part of this season. It has been a long time since Ninjago has made me HOARSE from being too invested.

That has not happened to me since Sons of Garmadon.

Because, yeah, I actually have NO IDEA where any of this is headed. How are they gonna save Kai and Bonzle? Why did some of Lloyd's visions not come true? What in the world is going on with Ras? Will the Administration help with that? Will the source dragons help with that?

What I probably do know is that Part 2 of this season is going to turn this into the best Ninjago Product since Tournament of Elements. Maybe even top it depending on my rewatches if my problems are still problems.

So... yeah. Good or Nah? Good. Obviously.

The hype is a little overblown to me, but it still deserves the hype.

[justkillingthyme]

hcs about the main characters when sick?

Rubs my hands together. You’ve activated my trap card (<has three uploaded sickfics and three more planned) lets fucking go

Hershel (post uni pre ls) would go to work. Wouldn’t exactly overexert himself to the point of exhaustion/passing out but he would just try and power through while taking it easy. Hershel post LS alternates between trying to work (and being cajoled into rest) and simply taking the day off to not risk others health and set a good example

Luke will take it easy when he realizes that he’s sick. Problem is that he’s taken up Hershel’s bad habit of running himself into the ground and ignoring himself to please others. If someone tells him to rest he’ll go down without a fight but it’s also the matter of Luke having little bodily awareness to realize that he’s sick in the first place instead of just feeling bad. I also think that he’s The Nefarious Crier when sick. Will bawl like a baby because he’s sick and feels bad (bad for all the emotionally constipated adults he hangs out with)

Emmy will run herself into the ground. She will go to work and fight god while running a fever of 104. Unless she’s passing out or physically tied to a bed, there’s no way her ass is resting. I think she has a pretty good immune system, so it doesn’t happen often, but when she gets sick it takes a while to recover. On account of her refusing to chill. She’s also very crabby and snippy when ill.

I think flora gets sick often. Naturally bad immune system plus isolation from living people for a good portion of her life means that someone could sneeze 50 miles away and somehow she’s sniffling the next day. I don’t think it gets particularly bad for her (mostly it’s just mild symptoms on and off). She’s not as emotional as Luke, but she’s easily swayed with her mood, and prefers company while she recovers. She does her best to avoid getting sick but doesn’t go out of her way. If someone in the house is sick, she’ll avoid them and won’t linger in their room or places they’ve been. But she doesn’t go all out vigorous cleaning mask in place.

Desmond got the worst pick of the genetic lottery (his dads face and his mom’s shit immune system). He does everything in his power to avoid getting sick because when he does end up getting sick it’s BAD. It’s never minor it always snowballs into something far worse and he knows that. When it’s just him and Raymond he’ll complain endlessly when it’s minor. Raymond my nose is stuffed up fetch me more tissues. Raymond I’m coughing make me more tea. But when it’s serious or he feels like he has important things to do he will hide it at all costs. AL Des has to pretend he’s normal and not germaphobic when anyone gets sick but internally he wants to put on a hazmat suit and use one of those garbage claws to move things around in the vicinity of the sick person. He also tries to downplay his illnesses when with other people so he doesn’t draw attention and worry others. He kinda just crashes in his room and doesn’t exit until he’s coherent (kinda similar when he gets migraines but this ain’t about that.) Raymond doesn’t let him have access to the medicine cabinet after The Incident so he has to suck it up every time and beg Raymond for cold medicine while seething because he’s a grown ass adult but also. It’s Raymond. And Raymond will know if he tries to just steal them. All powerful all knowing Raymond.

Randall complains endlessly while sick. Yes he will let you know at any point in time that he’s horribly sick and that’s why you should grab the remote that’s two feet away from him and within reach. But if he has something that he wants to do there’s no getting him down without a fight. He’ll go on an expedition while dying. Because no risk no glory or smth oh look a cool rock!

Henry will do anything to pretend that he’s not sick. Regardless of whether or not he recognizes that he’s sick, he’s not telling anyone and will simply work. Then work harder when he’s upset that he’s not at full efficiency. He could probably be coaxed to bed though.

Claire was normal about being sick, though kinda similar to Randall in that she might ignore it if her symptoms aren’t bad if she would be missing something important school or work-wise. But she knows her limits well.

[freakattack]

Since you did that LGBT+ headcanon post for the Mario cast, could you do one for the WarioWare crew?

LOL thank you for taking interest in my gay luigi posts. I actually did make one of these before but that was two years ago and also mostly jokes so I think this is as good a time as any to do it again but in serious mode. I have also changed my mind on some of these so they might not all line up with the other post but such is life. Obligatory "That's My Opinion" so if my tabloid speculations don't line up with yours feel free to imagine me falling down a very deep hole, or you can squint your eyes and pretend you're squishing my icon between your fingers like a bug if that's more your speed

WARIO: Briefly said this in the mario post but sure I'll go into more detail about wario's sex life, I think he's aromantic and bisexual. I do realize it comes off as kind of shitty to make Mario be Romantic Asexual and "Evil Mario" be Aromantic Sexual, but as a Wario Megafan I just think that he values his friendships a lot more, and given what we have seen of wario's disgust for romance despite his very active libido* (I promise that link is not as bad as it looks), I think it would be remiss to pretend that he would ever want to settle down with someone. He still loves people in a platonic way - even beyond the warioware cast, he cared a lot about princess shokora by the end of WL4, and even though he does not necessarily LIKE waluigi (and I do subscribe to poppadopolos theory so I am of the belief that they were fuckin' and truckin' for a good portion of the early 2000's), I think wario still cares about him in his wario way. They are like a divorced couple that still has kids except instead of kids it's cheating at tennis. Also, I think that wario is transgender, because it explains a lot about him (e.g. his lack of nipples) and because that way nobody has to think about what his "real name" was before it was wario. It was his deadname! Everybody go home! Have a rotten day!

*I do not think that wario would canonically catcall random news reporters but I'm still counting this as nebulous evidence that wario can be horny

MONA: I think that she is bisexual but doesn't know it at this point in time and also isn't really stressing about it. Her taste is kind of skewed towards whatever wario is (in a puppy love type of way i do NOT ship them), but if she ended up having a close friendship with a girl her age I could see her catching feelings. I don't wanna say that her thing with wario is comphet because that's not entirely true but I do think that his unattainability is a comfortable way for her to not have to think about actually getting into a relationship. (For the record, I don't think she even wants to BE in a relationship with him, I think she is perfectly happy with the way things are, but mona has TMI'd about her opinion on wario's physique often enough that I kind of get the idea.)

JIMMY T: My opinions on him have not changed. Who do you think gave him the T? Also, I didn't mention this before, but I do think he is bisexual, and although it kind of feels like a cop-out to make the Holy Trinity of Warioware all bisexual, sometimes that's just how the cookie crumbles. Groovy!

DRIBBLE: This is where things start to diverge from the original post. I said he was bisexual before But I lied I think he just likes men. I think that he has a supportive family, but he's still a little shy about actually going out to meet people and start a relationship. Anyways you're probably not gonna like what I have to say next

SPITZ: I am soooooo sorry. But I think that he is straight. More power to you guys but I never really got into dribblenspitz as a Ship because I associate their dynamic so strongly with the Cool Boss + Rookie dynamic that we have all been at least one half of that I can't imagine them in a romantic relationship. They have the most beautiful bromance of course, they would go to the ends of the earth for each other, but they wouldn't smooch. I think that spitz's dating life is/has been kind of sad (not in a angst way in a regular way) and were he to go back into the dating scene dribble would hype him up about it and give him advice and spitz would be like hey why don't you have a girlfriend? You're clearly better at this than me and dribble would say uuuhhhhh

ORBULON: Orbulon is hard to pigeonhole into these labels because the guys on orbulon's home planet operate on an entirely different paradigm from humans on earth. Reproduction via budding, communal childrearing, telepathic mega-cliques*.....on Earth, orbulon certainly has no interest in romance or beyond (both because he has no need for it and because he is two thousand years old on the planet of the apes), but he does have fun being a girl. You could call him "genderfluid", but he also doesn't feel too much of a connection to earth genders in general; he just likes wearing different hats.

*THAT'S MY OPINION

CRYGOR: I think that he has had no interest in romance for a hundred years, but also if he randomly picked up a stepdad for his adult children one day I would not be mad. (Mike might be, but he would eventually come around due to the Power of Love and whatnot.) Penny is his "granddaughter" but I think that this is more a label for convenience's sake and because she IS his granddaughter at heart. "But why does she randomly show up into everyone's lives in smooth moves as a full grown kid" Until warioware decides to show me her parents themselves I'm not entertaining this plot hole

PENNY: The reason I don't think penny is his granddaughter is because I still think she is a transgender clone of dr crygor. I think that crygor is enthusiastically supportive of her, gets her all the pink glittery shit her heart could desire, and helped her transition with his Science Inventions. I also think she is a lesbian, although I don't Ship her with anyone in the main cast (sorry again).

MIKE: Earlier I said that mike was "gay but he thinks everyone is annoying". That was before they revealed this bombshell:

Now, this could mean absolutely nothing. Checking the translation of the japanese website yields pretty much the same sentence. However, due to an incident involving a botched translation before the english version of this website came out, I had it in my head for a while that the connotation here was of a certain kind of fascination. And honestly, who could blame him? This is a karaoke machine that got frosty the snowman'd into existence. Of course he would be conflicted about who he is supposed to love. Does he have the heart of a man, or machine? Even Mike does not have an answer. So, my revised LGBT+ headcanon for Mike Crygor is "gay, and whatever this is".

5-VOLT: I'm on the fence about whether i Actually Think This but I am very fond of when people headcanon her as a trans woman, so I'm giving that a shout out. Shout Out! Other than that, I think she's only ever dated men and is happy that way.

.......Unless

[moon-upright]

Outlooks on the World - Esme + M6

headcanons about how my apprentice and the main 6 view life as a whole. because i got the idea in my head. i think this makes sense

Esme sees the world as a bad place, but individuals can make it better

After a stressful childhood which ended rather unfortunately, Esme grew resentful of the people and potential forces that made it that way

For much of her life she sees the world as an unfair place without true justice or karma — if there are higher beings, they are either uncaring or cruel

But she knows for a fact that there are good people out there, and she'd be doing them a disservice to forget them and say everything is all bad

One way Esme grows through and post-route, is improving her outlook on life and humanity as a whole, becoming less withdrawn and spiteful, more open

Julian's outlook is sort of the inverse of Esme's — the world is a good place overall, with some individuals and things that make it worse... (hear me out)

He very much loves the world and humanity. He likes people and he likes new experiences

This sounds very positive but you must remember that Julian views himself as one of these bad individuals

Julian does know that things can be unfair and unsafe at times - he's seen a lot of good people struck with misfortune, or even lose their lives

But he doesn't really feel spiteful or resentful of the world as a whole. It's just how fate can turn out (he also tends to find some way to blame himself)

Julian grows by learning to love himself — or at least not hate himself. Self-love might be something he will always be chasing, though. But as long as he doesn't give up that chase, he'll be okay

Asra views the world as just another place, and people are either good or bad, most in between

He likes the world fine, but his experience with the realms means his world is not just larger, but only one of many

He doesn't fully understand ALL magic, but he's close with it in a way where he sees that “fair” and “unfair” aren't always things that apply. “Good” and “bad” are nuanced. The world is colorful yet gray

Sees it as up to each individual to decide what they want and how much they can take. At least on a subconscious level, he thinks that whether he sees someone as good or bad is mostly a matter of his own conscience

He does need to remember that, if everything depends on his own conscience, then he doesn't have control over a lot outside of that

He also needs to maintain balance between all of his worlds - nothing wrong with not wanting to be shackled to one spot or a life you don't want, as long as you don't lose sight of the people in your life.

Portia has the same outlook as her brother, just minus the self-hate

She loves the world, people, and herself

It's not to say she doesn't also get her own negative streaks, but overall she likes who she is

She feels like there's excitement around every corner - and if there isn't, you can make some! (she loves books partly for this reason)

Nadia is in the unique position of having a significant amount of power over a portion of the world (even if it's a relatively small portion)

It's less about how the world inherently is, but how it currently is and what she can do to affect that

If Vesuvia is a microcosm of the world and Vesuvia is corrupt or unjust or bad, then she’ll change that. So she'll change the world

She also isn't among the people, so she isn't exactly a good judge of whether they're good or not. She can definitely say that the upper class is full of not-so-great individuals, but that makes up a minority

She knows that a ruler is nothing without her people

She's been fairly self-actualized since she was a kid, but she lost a bit of that during the plague - though post-route, she's even more of a force to be reckoned with (in a good way)

Muriel doesn't really care about how the world at large is — he's not very interested in traveling, meeting people, or experiencing new things

He's only focused on his life, and maybe the lives of those immediately around him

If it's just about his life, then he thinks it's pretty bad

He managed to find some peace and fulfillment living in nature on his own, but his childhood as an orphan and then a gladiator stains his view of his surroundings

He isn't trusting of others or really even himself.

He loves animals because they're far easier to understand than humans - and if they hurt you, you can find out exactly why

Though he doesn't really see use of asking “why” any of that had to happen to him, because he doesn't think that much about justice — perhaps because thinking too much about it will make him start feeling worse, and he'd rather just forget

Nothing wrong with wanting to live quietly, but he could definitely become more in touch with his emotions and processing his trauma

He, too, judges people not on some overarching moral about how one should be, but more just on his own conscience - for example, he doesn't like Esme/MC at first, not because he thinks they're really a bad human, but for purely personal reasons.

Lucio doesn't really care about whether the world is good or bad

Like Nadia, he has an effect on the world around him, and that's what he sees

He thinks there's a lot of fun to be had and a lot of boring and bothersome things he’d like to get rid of

It's not about whether the people around him are good or not, it's about how they treat him and what they can do

If it's not his world, then it really ought to be

He'd agree with Asra as well, in that he believes it's up to individuals how they treat the world and their own lives

He believes in being the change you want to see, though he doesn't generally take into account what anyone else wants to see - for sure something to work on

[barrackspredator]

My oc; Autumn Hargrove. Female, 5'5, Age: 17. Birthday: Nov second; she's a Scorpio. Autumn has short dirty blonde hair. Glasses; baby sea blue eyes. Pale, really lanky. Very vainy and boney fingers/hands shes insecure of. Autumn has the rarest type of Blood type: AB negative.. She's a jokester, tomboyish, introverted, extroverted around the right people, hot tempered, empath, quick to violence, selfless. Has dark humor. Smells like cinnamon. 🇩🇪🇺🇲. Is a nurse. Autumn has asthma, PTSD, Separation Anxiety, ADHD. Who would she be shipped with? ^^

this might be a little less detailed than the past OC requests bc of limited detailing

!warning!: domestic violence mention.

Autumn Hargrove

I ship you with…

Henry Bowers

Henry bullied Autumn for a good portion of the year at school. She was an easy target for him to take his anger out on whenever the losers were nowhere to be found

Now Henry ain’t exactly the type to just get a crush on somebody without something happening, so either she asked him out, or something had to have happened

Even when dating, Henry would make little snide remarks. It wasn’t exactly bullying but more like he just had no filter

It took a few weeks of dating for Henry to finally introduce Autumn to the gang as his girlfriend, which was incredibly awkward because they initially assumed she was brought for another little bullying session. They were sorely mistaken

None of the other guys understand how this pairing happened because, in their minds, their victims are undateable. Henry does not have this mindset (he is a bully through and through. If he had that mindset, he’d never be able to date anybody)

Henry is a little frigid and not keen on physical touch, mostly because a lot of his body is sore from the beatings his dad gives him

The turning point to this problem was when Autumn offered to help Henry take care of his wounds, and overtime he became comfortable letting Autumn touch him

In public, Henry isn’t into PDA or any of that lovey-dovey stuff. But in private, Henry can be quite the lover boy when he lets his walls down. He likes spooning but only if he’s big spoon! He likes being big spoon for two reasons: 1) It makes him feel masculine and 2) he likes to smell his cinnamon girlfriend. Like seriously, he’ll deeply inhale her scent

Autumn’s tomboyish personality makes it easy for the guys to bond with her, but her humor and empathy make it easy for Henry to let his guard down. Her dark humor is especially a crowd pleaser when she’s with the gang

It’s the 80s and like most dirtbag teenage boys, Henry isn’t knowledgeable about mental health. He isn’t very sure exactly what PTSD is, or ADHD, or separation anxiety. Does he ask? No, Henry unfortunately isn’t the boyfriend to care a bunch about his partner’s problems. He’s worried, but not enough to pick up a mental health book and do some reading, or ask his girlfriend for information

His temper can get the best of him, and since Autumn also has a temper, it turns into full-blown arguments. If the argument is truly horrible, it could result in some violence. Henry doesn’t feel guilty at first, but after while the guilt begins to set it and he scampers to her side to beg for forgiveness

Autumn is really the only woman in Henry’s life who cares for him, so the idea of losing her makes him panic. This can result in possessive, needy behavior

Overall, Henry isn’t exactly the best or the worst boyfriend. He’s just… Henry (unfortunately)

[aquatark]

kind of randomly spurred post, but i was just wondering how many endless ocean fans knew about the development screenshots we have of the first game... so i figured i'd share them with you all, along with some light analysis for those interested in this game's development history!

so the development photos i'll be going into in this post were revealed to the public in 2014-2015, shared on the twitter account of ichiro mihara, the vice president of arika and series producer of the endless ocean games! nowadays, he mostly just posts food pics and pokemon go stuff... kinda living the dream ngl

below is the complete set of screenshots:

the most obvious difference here to most players would be creatures placed where they shouldn't be, such as the yellow boxfish in an atypical zoom, and the presence of false clown anemonefish in the abyss and ship's rest. while the boxfish photo i don't have any explanation for other than the creature moving around a little at some point in development, the anemonefish photos i have a more interesting explanation for!

we can use these photos, along with multiple other photos of clownfish in eo1 zooms taken during development (which are used on the plaques of eo2's aquarium), to deduce that this clownfish species was used as a test creature for zoom environments! i mean, it's pretty obvious they weren't intending for you to actually find clownfish in the depths... and due to their order in the game's internal d code life system, we can assume they were among the first zoom mode creatures to be added. it all lines up! though i'm glad the little guys don't have to suffer that insane water pressure anymore...

now, another big difference is the lack of water fog in most of these photos! it's especially obvious in the photos taken in zoom mode that this portion of the game had yet to be figured out at the point those photos were taken. for comparison, here's the yellow boxfish photo compared with a photo of the same staghorn coral zoom in the final game:

big difference, huh? this fog would be even stronger if i weren't using an emulator to take my photos - dolphin tends to skimp a little on the fog. but, this lines up with what we know about this game's development: during a post-release developer interview (which you can view translated into english here), they mentioned struggling to make this fog feel right - more oceanic than foggy feeling, and accurately changing with the player's current depth - and these photos illustrate that there was a time where fog in zoom mode spots was neglected entirely!

the screenshot of the open encyclopedia also has a lot of interesting differences from the final game. take a look here, comparing the same page:

(note that of course, the development photo was taken in japanese, while my screenshot is in english: "fish who live in the ocean" is actually what the deep sea section is called in the final japanese release... trust me, i checked)

so obviously, the layout of these pages is completely different! i imagine the details on these small fish would have been barely legible on the average person's tv at the time, so making them bigger was a good call. additionally, the encyclopedia used to be navigated using arrow buttons and a back button to exit! this back button is completely unused in the final game, probably just because it's redundant when in the final game, you can just press the b button to go back. three other small changes are that:

in the dev screenshot, the encyclopedia's page background is just a texture, as opposed to a 3d model as seen in the final game. this means it's likely the pages didn't flip like a real book does at this point.

the scientific names of the giant squid and the oarfish was altered.

there are no page numbers in the encyclopedia.

now, for a quick lightning round of smaller changes!

in the final game, there is only one place to find remoras: accompanied by the whale shark in entryway slope, in small numbers. this contrasts with the whale shark photo, in which way more remoras are seen surrounding it, and in an area deeper than entryway slope allows. since this photo was also an old promotional image, and we have footage of the game from previews around the same time, the most plausible explanation is that this whale shark was placed in the game's unused test stage (which i should also make a post about at some point lol).

the penguin photo was taken with an angle impossible in the final game, as was the polar bear photo and the starck's demoiselle photo.

also in the penguin photo, there are two hatches typically present on the deck of the gabbiano (one on either side of the mast), that are absent.

the water surrounding the gabbiano in the polar bear photo is a different color than in the final game.

the starck's demoiselle photo has a bright cyan water color in the background, which is never visible in the final game without camera hacks.

finally, one fun fact regarding the starck's demoiselle photo: it's actually used in-game, both in this game and in the sequel! in eo1, it can be found occasionally placed in the fake magazine spreads sent to the player for a C grade photo request, and in eo2, it is the photo used to represent "DIVING MAGAZINE" when viewing photo requests!

that's all of my rambling for now, i hope you found this interesting! if this kind of longpost is something you'd like to see more of in the future, let me know! i've got all sorts of topics in the chamber that i just need an excuse to write about lol

[aethersea]

📓!

There’s an atla au of star wars that I have tried so hard to bend into a shape that I can actually write, but alas, all I have are ideas. This is the one that’s in the wips folder as Everything Changed when the Clones Attacked, which is ironic bc I cannot for the life of me figure out what to do with the clones. Maybe they’re being brainwashed at Lake Laogai? Or something???

Anyway. The story has two parts, prequels and sequels. Details under the cut, because this got a bit long.

In the prequels, the elderly Master Yoda of the airbenders is Avatar, and in his old age he’s stopped traveling the world and instead dispenses his wisdom from one of the great Air Nomad temples, nestled deep in the mountains where only Air Nomads can reach. He’s unofficial leader of the council of Air Nomad elders, which is….not great, really, not how things should be, but it’s mostly been okay. He’s been a good avatar overall, and it’s only in later years that he’s leaned so heavily toward the Air Nomads, and really none of this is enough to push the four peoples truly out of balance. 

Our story starts with Qui-gon Jinn, an airbending master traveling with his apprentice, helping a besieged queen from a minor Earth Kingdom escape her city. (I saw a post once asserting that the Earth Kingdom is actually a collection of largely autonomous kingdoms that all loosely recognize the authority of the Earth King in Ba Sing Se, and I like that a lot, so that’s the worldbuilding I’m going with here.) Qui-gon agrees to take Queen Amidala to the Avatar’s council to beg their aid. 

Along the way, they encounter a young boy living with his mother. The boy can do a bit of earthbending—and also a bit of waterbending, and a bit of airbending, and a bit of firebending. Which is impossible, because Avatar Yoda isn’t dead, but there he is, bending all the elements anyway.

I don’t think there’s slavery in the atla universe, but we could probably get away with indentured servitude of some kind, and Qui-gon acquires Ani in much the same way as he does in canon. He takes him to Avatar Yoda—and Yoda rejects him. Says, essentially, “This is weird as hell but it’s also not my problem.” (Frankly I can’t come up with an actual good reason for Yoda to do that, but just go with me here.) So Qui-gon angrily responds that if the Avatar won’t take responsibility, he will, and then gets himself enmeshed in Amidala’s political problems to boot. 

And then he dies.

Something something evil emperor, yadda yadda you know the drill. (Though I think the empire isn’t going to be the Fire Nation, despite the thematic appropriateness of fire spreading unchecked to consume all in its path. Palpatine is gonna usurp the Earth King, I think, and I do feel the prequels’ themes around entrenched systems with deep flaws, which are too big to fight as individuals and too implacable to change, will fit well with atla themes around earth.)

The sequels portion of things is even less plotted out. All I know is that Luke grows up in the same nameless patch of Earth territory his father grew up in, and he doesn’t actually discover he can waterbend until he’s practically an adult. It’s a shock to everyone—except, somehow, weird Old Ben who lives in the desert, who tells him that the next Avatar is supposed to be a waterbender, and won’t explain why he’s so convinced Luke is that Avatar given that he’s pretty emphatically not from the Water Tribes. 

Luke is finally convinced when he manages to airbend, under Old Ben’s suspiciously skilled tutelage. He can’t pull off any other elements, though, so they go off on a road trip to that swamp where you see spirits, to try to reach the past Avatars and get some guidance.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to both of them, Leia has grown up knowing she can firebend. This is kind of an alarming skill for the princess of an Earth Kingdom to have, and even more alarming given that she’s already an earthbender. So she’s kept it secret, and no one but her parents has ever known.

They can meet in some way analogous to the Death Star raid in A New Hope, idk I have zero plot in mind here. The point, as far as I’m concerned, is that the Skywalkers have fundamentally broken the Avatar cycle. Anakin shouldn’t exist, and yet he does, and he was born while Yoda was still alive. If he hadn’t existed, the next Avatar would be a waterbender, and that’s Luke—except he’s from the Earth Kingdom. If Anakin is a true Avatar, then the next one would be an earthbender, and that’s Leia—only then she shouldn’t have been born until after Anakin’s death. Nothing makes sense! Even Yoda and all the other past Avatars together have no goddamn clue what is going on!

Imagine their consternation when they discover that neither Luke nor Leia is the Avatar: it’s actually both of them together. Luke has air and water, Leia has earth and fire; Luke can visit the spirit world and be the bridge between humans and spirits, and Leia can speak to kings and maintain the balance between the four nations. The two of them, together, can defeat their father, defeat the emperor, and restore harmony to the world.

[firstkanaphans]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well. I just saw they announced the day for the GMMTV lineup for 2024. I was wondering.... This is my first time following it up close, how does it work? Do they announce all their series and plans for the subsequent year? Also, do you have hope we might get another FirstKhaotung series?? I fell so in love with them, maybe I'm being too greedy but their chemistry is so good 😭😭😭😭

Yeah, so we should get an update on all of the 2023 shows that haven’t aired yet and then they play the pilot trailers for all of their 2024 shows. The trailers will have English subs and there will also be a live subber fighting for their life trying to sub the interview portions as well. You can skim through the 2023 show here to get a feel for what will happen. It’s usually a lot of fun, but the fact that this is only Part 1 is throwing me. Don’t they know people are taking off work for this?? I can’t do that twice 😩

As for whether FirstKhaotung will have a show in 2024, I’m almost positive they will. Mostly because them talking about wanting to do a romcom is so entirely out of left field. They’ve been asking for a mafia drama for literal years, so for them to change their tune so suddenly, I think they already know what’s coming next for them.

GMMTV also just has no idea what to do with them except stick them in a BL because neither of them meet Thailand’s very narrow beauty standard of what a “leading man” should look like. So I personally think we’ll be getting a new BL from them every year for as long as they want to do it.

My best guess? We’ll get a FK romcom, Homeschool season 2 for Khaotung, and then something extra for First as well. He was definitely filming something with Off and Sea one day a few months ago, so maybe that?? I’m really excited! It should be quite a show.

[cherrygorilla]

Zack's Basic Info

As seems to be a recent theme with me, I really struggled coming up with faceclaims for Zack. I think Chosen Jacobs (first pic) is the one that feels the most right in my head, but I could see the others (Miles Brown, Noah Gray-Cabey and Jaden Smith) all working well in their own ways too. No one else seemed to be able to get that mischievous grin of his right lol.

Name: Zackary Ghalen Davis - his mom named him Ghalen, meaning calm in Ghanaian, because he was such an easy, quiet baby. But then he learned how to speak and she's never had a moment of peace since.

Nicknames: He pretty much solely goes by Zack. He'll occasionally get a (very cringeworthy) 'Zacky boy' from his dad, and, in the very few interactions he's had with Ethan, he's had 'Zack-attack'. But 99.9% of the time it's just Zack. 

Age: 14

Date of Birth: 30th of November

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Birthstone: Topaz

Nationality: American, Ghanaian and Greek

Sexuality: Straight

Birthplace: St Anthony's Hospital, St Petersburg, Florida

Current Residence: Pelican Drive South, St Petersburg, Florida

Occupation: Middle school student and a newspaper delivery boy

Talents/Skills: Karate, basketball, having insanely good aim (not used for many things thus far in life other than crushing at paper football games in class), never failing to make his friends (especially Bentley) laugh, packing away ungodly amounts of food (his portions are HUGE if he has any control over it), and knowing many, many random facts, mostly about dinosaurs

Birth Order: Middle of 3

Siblings: Jordin Nicole Davis (17) and Angelo Cameron Davis (9)

Parents: Jamal Dimitri Davis and Effia Morowa Davis 

Signature:

Height: 5' 10'' when he's fully grown, but 5' 4'' for now.

Race: African American

Eye Colour: Dark brown

Hair Colour: Dark brown

Glasses or Contact Lenses: Neither

Distinguishing Features: He's almost always got some sort of pen ink on his hands where he's scribbled something down he needed to remember, a weird little squishy lump of skin from where his stitches didn't heal properly after he fell off a skate ramp and took a gnarly chunk out of his knee, and a slightly chipped front tooth from that very same incident.

Mannerisms: Compulsively needs to fill silences with senseless ramblings, unbelievably loud snoring, cracks his knuckles at every available opportunity, and almost always stands with his hands in his pockets.

Health: He’s lactose-intolerant but he does not give a fuckkkkkk lmao - if anything, it just encourages him to eat more dairy. But besides that, nothing really, he's pretty healthy. His mom wouldn't hesitate to (lovingly) diagnose him as a lazy-ass though - and she'd probably pull him up on his terrible posture whilst she’s at it. 

Hobbies: Skateboarding, karate, picking arguments with Kona, binge watching horror movies, eating through entire family size bags of chips in one sitting, collecting random stickers (which he covers like 90% of his belongings with), and wasting all his allowance at the arcade.

Greatest Flaw (in their opinion): How argumentative he is. He has very strong opinions and is super strong-willed, which can be a good thing, but can also make things really difficult when he runs into someone who disagrees with him. He can take it really personally and get really fired up, even if it's not that big of a deal, just because it's hard to process other people's views. Sometimes he doesn't even care what it is he's arguing about; sometimes he just likes playing devil's advocate because he likes to debate with people. His mom always pulls him up on it though, because sometimes his enthusiasm for challenging others can come across as rude, which is never usually his intention. 

Best Quality (in their opinion): His passion. Even though it can land him in trouble sometimes, and brings out his biggest flaw, he is proud of how much he dedicates himself to the things he believes in. He never half-asses things he cares about, he'll put his all into it no matter what. And that extends to his relationships too - he'll stick by his friends through anything, and will defend them until he's blue in the face if he has to. He can be perceived as lazy because of how laidback he seems, and can be lazy when he wants to, but if he wants to do something, whether that's for himself, or for someone he cares about, he won't be able to focus on anything else until it's done.

Biggest Fear: Dying. One of his cousins died in their teens and the shockwave of grief it sent through his whole family really freaked him out. He wasn't necessarily super close with the guy, but he'd spent a fair amount of time with him at family gatherings growing up, so the abruptness of his death really shook him up and changed his whole perspective on life. He very much adopted that 'needs to live life to the fullest' mindset, which is probably why he can come across as a little overbearing and intense sometimes. And he can act rather impulsively, but he'd rather that be the case than living with regrets if that looming cloud of grief were to come and swallow him whole again. 

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Favourite Ice Cream Flavour: Rocky Road

Favourite Colour: Red

Favourite Number: 3 - one of the many reasons as to why the triceratops is his favourite dinosaur

Favourite Movies: Nightmare on Elm Street, The Karate Kid, or The War of The Worlds (yes, he and August geek out over it together, and yes, it's adorable)

Favourite Songs: You Should Be Dancing by the Bee Gees, School's Out by Alice Cooper, It's My Life by Bon Jovi, and One Love by Bob Marley

A place they want to visit: Egypt, he's got a real fascination with the Great Pyramids so he'd love to be able to see them in real life.

[iwonderwh0]

This is a headcanons about an adult Emma, ​​somewhere around 20-24 years old, her attitude towards androids, and other things (also a little Caroline). I think that in the end, when Emma grows up, she will stop being so afraid of and hating them, but this does not mean that she will weaken her defenses in front of the android, Emma will be able to stay close to the androids and work on her trauma, but this was a necessary measure, because androids filled the world more, and they could be met at every step, and Emma was tired of living in eternal fear of them. Also, I imagine that if Emma works on her trauma, then Caroline will not be able to do this, she will also continue to hate androids, so they live together away from technology, but when Emma grows up, she prefers to live separately (I see Emma as an independent a person who wants to build her life on her own, and alone), but closer to her mother, because over time, Caroline has developed many chronic problems, so Emma does not decide to move to another place, but Caroline has a caregiver (not an android), so Emma It’s not so scary to leave your mother alone, after the tragedy, they became closer to each other than before, they began to value family ties more

Adult Emma talks normally with androids, but nothing more, she has some hostility towards them, but unlike her mother, Emma hides such feelings better, she still tenses up internally in front of them, and if she knows that at some meeting there will be androids, she takes a weapon with her just in case, she no longer wants to be defenseless like that day. Simply put, Emma can communicate normally with androids, but she will never have friends among them, so she mostly prefers to ignore them, and not talk to them unless necessary, for her, androids are not the same as people, they will never for her, if Emma sees on the news that some android was hurt/or killed, she won't feel sympathy she would feel if a person was hurt instead of the android. And yes, this will be short, but I will say what will happen if Emma sees PL600, well … she has learned how to quickly find reasons to leave (escape), and also mysteriously she will not interact with this android anymore, yes she almost got over her fear/hate of androids, but not for PL600, despite how many years have passed, Emma still thinks about he …

Emma's friendly and romantic relationships … turned out so, everyone Emma met loved and adored androids to one degree or another, if Emma found out about this, then no matter how good she had with this person, she stopped communicating with them, because she knew that sooner or later they would encounter her opinion about androids, so she tries to look for friends/partners with a similar worldview, she found herself a couple of friends who are also skeptical about androids, but she still can’t find one for herself romantic partner, so at the moment, Emma is not looking for partners, and is single. In the present day, Emma still struggles with her androphobic thoughts about androids, and goes to a therapist/psychotherapist, but Emma finds it difficult to live in a world where almost everyone believes that androids are white and furry creatures, but Emma and other victims of androids know what they are. It's not the same, although it's not better now, but Emma no longer has the harsh aggression towards androids that she had as a teenager (or she's just gotten better at controlling it)

That's all, I'll write more headcanons later, and yes, I would like to, let’s say, communicate face to face, but unfortunately my messages never reach people if I write from my account

To be honest I never thought of Emma that far in the future, but it was interesting to hear. I think public opinion heavily depends on how was revolution won, and depending on that there could potentially be a lot more people who hate and are scared of androids. But even in peaceful scenario I don't think that in 10 or so years so large a portion of people would be so sympathetic towards them.

You probably saw my headcanon about Caroline and Emma escaping to Canada, and I think it'd be something done even before November. It is unclear whether Canada would officially allow entrance to androids in coming years tho. Probably to some extent?