#I was gonna say I hate Mondays but I have history and that makes me happy

[andy1687manga]

The classes are back and that means sketchs all the Mondays, YEY

[iknaenmal]

HOW TO STUDY. PLEASE

[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

[tellmegoodbye]

New year, new Music Monday Banner!

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this tag, here is a post explaining how to participate. I can't say I will be as consistent with this as I used to be, but I do have something else in the works that is inspired by music monday, and I'm hoping to have that for you guys soon.

I Hope You're Happy - Blue October

I'm always gonna have your back So try to remember that

I hope you're happy I hope you're good I hope you get what you wish for And you're well understood And whatever your progress I know you'll be fine Because I hope you're happy Even if you're not mine

I remember when the world was ours to take I remember you next to me I remember you with every breath I take You'll always have a piece of me

I remember every word that we spoke You right here next to me I remember how we tried and we tried I remember everything

Push angst anyone? This song is perfect for the breakup era, and for Carlos who wanted TK to live and to be happy, even if that meant they couldn't be together.

Love'll Set Me Free - Michael Franti

But there ain't nothin' Nothin' I can't do But to hold my ground Try not to come unwound Don't wanna be let down But it ain't easy Doin' hard time For somebody else's crime

Hate is what got me here But I know that love sweet love is gonna set me free All the hatred in the world is what got me here today But I know that love is gonna set me free

This song makes me think about how closed off Carlos was when we first met him, and how those walls slowly started coming down when he fell in love with TK.

Neptune - Sleeping At Last

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I wanna tell you, but I don't know how

I'm only honest when it rains An open book, with a torn out page And my inks run out I wanna love you but I don't know how

This is season 1 TK navigating his feelings for Carlos after having his heart broken. In his vows he said he felt like he might be too broken to love again, but Carlos showed him that he still had so much love in his heart and that he was worth waiting for.

Tagging: @strandnreyes @paperstorm @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet

@ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @herefortarlos @literateowl @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @carlos-tk @rangersoup

@carlossreaders @reeeallygood @goldenskykaysani @toomanycupsoftea @kiwichaeng

@goodways @firstprince-history-huh @certifiedflower @freneticfloetry @guardian-angle22 + open tag

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday & WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @voidika @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @davrinsgriffons @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who'd like to join.

Music for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore and The UnTitledverse and WIP snippets for The UnTitledverse and The Silver Chronicles. Listen and read below the cut:

First song for my Sole Survivor OC Nate Gust Sarid from my Fallout 4 WIP A Symbol For A Better World in my A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore series. Nate... is amongst many of my Fallout OCs in particular who goes through a rough stage in his life. The life he knew originally ends with a bang, he and many of his neighbors are frozen in stasis and he witnesses his wife die and his son get taken and wakes up again decades later as the "Sole Survivor" (...or is he?) in a world trying to heal but still under conflict. And while he wants nothing but to find his son and avenge his wife, he instead gets caught up in helping the factions around the Commonwealth just to get the resources and aid necessary to find his son (as well as make the Commonwealth safer for his son when he brings him home). The only one who seems to just want to help him with no strings attached is strange flippant woman named Ress who really wants to kill her own dad (whoever he may be). Honestly Nate gets the most depressing narrative for a Fallout OC of mine and his arc is to find hope again (which starts with his friendship with Ress, which kickstarts her own arc of becoming someone more than she perceives herself to be, e.g. a symbol of hope instead of a bad omen like her father). Putting him up there with Alph Dolen (my Lone Wanderer OC) and Finidy Mona (my Chosen One OC). Anyway, song below:

"High, high hopes."

"Had to have high, high hopes for a living Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing Didn't have a dime, but I always had a vision Always had high, high hopes ("High, high hopes!") Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn't know how, but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes

Mama said, "Fulfill the prophecy Be something greater, go make a legacy" Manifest destiny, back in the days We wanted everything, wanted everything ("High, high hopes!") Mama said, "Burn your biographies Rewrite your history, light up your wildest dreams" Museum victories every day We wanted everything, wanted everything

Mama said, "Don't give up, it's a little complicated All tied up, no more love and I'd hate to see you waiting"

Had to have high, high hopes for a living Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing Didn't have a dime, but I always had a vision Always had high, high hopes Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn't know how, but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes ("High, high hopes!")

Mama said, "It's uphill for oddities Stranger crusaders ain't ever wannabes" The weird and the novelties that don't ever change We wanted everything, wanted everything ("High, high hopes!") Stay up on that rise Stay up on that rise and never come down, oh Stay up on that rise Stay up on that rise and never come down

Mama said, "Don't give up, it's a little complicated All tied up, no more love and I'd hate to see you waiting" They say it's all been done, but they haven't seen the best of me-eh-eh-eh So I got one more run and it's gonna be a sight to see-eh-eh-eh

Had to have high, high hopes for a living Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing Didn't have a dime, but I always had a vision Always had high, high hopes ("High, high hopes!") Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn't know how, but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes ("High, high hopes!")

Had to have high, high hopes for a living Shooting for the stars when I couldn't make a killing Didn't have a dime, but I always had a vision Always had high, high hopes Had to have high, high hopes for a living Didn't know how, but I always had a feeling I was gonna be that one in a million Always had high, high hopes!" ("High, high hopes!")

Macklemore, Ryan Lewis, Melle Mel, Grandmaster Caz, Kool Moe Dee & Eric Nally's "Downtown" is a song I typically listen to when working on my Detroit: Become Human WIP called Detroit: Battleground from my The UnTitledverse series (I also listen to Nicki Minaj's "Starships" while working on the WIP but that's a post for another time). And I gotta be honest... I don't know why. Does a song about an interaction between a shopper and a moped salesman got anything to do with androids fighting for their rights with the help of a cat and dilophosaurus as a malevolent virus goes around killing the rich and wealthy while stealing autonomy away from sentient androids got anything to do with each other? Unless you're really looking deep into things... not really. I'm sure if you squint you could find something, like how I imagine Detroit to be this downtown city even though I've never been there and I'm probably wrong. Like yeah... I just think the WIP and song vibe with each other on the level that Madonna's "Like A Prayer" vibes with Deadpool and Wolverine... neither had anything to do with each other but they still work! Anyway, listen below:

"Downtown, downtown ("Downtown!") Downtown, downtown She has her arms around your waist With a balance that will keep her safe (Downtown)

Have you ever felt the warm embrace (Downtown) Of a leather seat between your legs? (Hey, hey-ey-ey, hey, hey-ey-ey, hey, hey-ey-ey, hey, hey-ey-ey!)

Downtown You don't want no beef, boy Know I run the streets, boy Better follow me towards

Downtown What you see is what you get, girl Don't ever forget, girl Ain't seen nothing yet until you're

Downtown You don't want no beef, boy Know I run the streets, boy Better follow me towards

Downtown What you see is what you get, girl Don't ever forget, girl Ain't seen nothing yet until you're Downtown!"

First WIP is for the FC5 Bloodborne AU, showing a snippet where John and Jacob had rallied their followers to attempt their first assault to take the Convent back and confront Vicar Faith... but just before they encounter a powerful obstacle in the forms of the Church Hunters, and very much before they notice the first sign that somethings different about the Bliss. Read below:

Passing by the rocks, John looked out his side of the window, and saw the glimpses of the Convent; a property that once belonged to the Project before they made the deal with that deceitful snake, Paul Yellowjack.

As Jacob turned the corner, John could see how drastically it changed since last they handed it over.

The congregation hall was bigger, altered into a chapel. The dormitories were present, but seemed to be in disuse; and given the bodies of black-garbed Hunters laying outside the small stone walls, John made an educated guess as to why.

He grimaced at the distant sight of the so-called "Church Hunters" patrolling within the vicinity of the Convent. Adorning large wide-brimmed hats, cloaked in white over their dark hooded garbs, the hulking creatures were far from human; they were twice as tall as ordinary people, their skin drained of all colors except a ghostly pale, their features eternally etched in a ghastly stiff and emotionless face, their glazed blank eyes somehow more soulless than their shorter and more temperamental cousins.

John wondered how this one night managed to have him prefer their twitching, jittery and screaming Angels to the Monastery's stoically calm, sluggish moving and low moaning Church Hunters.

Though John could easily explain that as away as the result of the former being volunteers or those too full of doubt that Bliss was needed to elevate their minds, even if John didn't like it. Meanwhile, the latter were a vehement vileness towards the beauty God their souls' vessels, nothing more than husks that the disgraceful Saint Matilda managed to gain since Faith was appointed the Monastery's vicar.

The reminder of their astray "sister" was enough for a scowl to nearly break through.

"Guess Dansky was right for once," Jacob spoke up, surveying the Convent from afar as he pulled the truck to a stop, thankfully not pushing any further, "They're keeping people out, even those who are supposed to be their own."

That detail both disturbed and confused John; despite their lives often being full of vice, the Hunters risked their lives and sanity ensure the safety of everyone, regardless of affiliation, from the vile beasts that roamed the county, compared to the Church Hunters, who resided around properties owned by the Monastery, like guard dogs.

Such a quality was something that John and his brothers could agree on finding an admirable trait about the Hunters. But to see them so callously murdered by trusted affiliates just for seeking a well-known safe haven to recover made his blood boil. Though it also raised questions about tonight.

Like, why?

Why reveal their true colors on this night of all nights? What was the purpose of disposing their only forces against the beasts? How does the "Hunt of the Long Night" differ from previous nights? Was it a similar case to the "Night of Flames"? But why does Paul continue to broadcast his warnings and reminders to the civilians if he's assumed to be behind this?

John didn't have answers. Neither did his brothers nor any of their followers. But... perhaps their wayward sister did.

The other envoys full of Jacob's Chosen and John's bravest men and women also pulled to a stop, awaiting further action.

John reached to the backseat for the automatic rifle he stored in there, with Jacob checking the ammo of a pistol in the glove box.

Jacob looked to John, watching as his younger brother checked the magazine and loaded it back it upon seeing it was full, flicking safety off. John was surprised when his older brother placed the pistol against his chest, forcing him to hold it.

"Take it," Jacob gruffly ordered, gesturing to John's empty holster. When John tried to refuse it with a push away, Jacob stared at him harder, and looking into their shared blue eyes was something John didn't see much often in his older brother; behind the insistence was worry.

Not that John could blame him... tonight had been rough on his older brother, especially with the failed arrest nearly costing Joseph's life and the compound being uninhabitable due to the Beasts lured over by the helicopter's crash.

"John. Just take it," Jacob insisted roughly, and though John wanted nothing more to show his brother that he was capable on his own, he gave in, taking Jacob's pistol.

Jacob gave a satisfied nod, patting John's shoulder before exiting the driver's seat, going to the trunk to get his rifle.

John looked ahead to the convent, where he saw the blue hue of some Church Hunter's lanterns illuminate, grimly alluring.

He swore he could see the outlines of a green mist swirl along the walls, but when he blinked, it seemed more like fog.

Shaking his head, exhaling a breath to steel his nerves, John exited the truck to help Jacob rally their faithful together.

Another FC5 snippet for my You're Almost Like Family WIP where John is able to have a (somewhat) civil negotiation (after many failed and fatal attempts beforehand) with Silva at a gas station with neither having any weapons on hand to defend themselves against unknown stalkers with murderous intent... Enjoy reading below:

John straightened up as soon as he saw her silhouette approach closer, eventually watching the Deputy enter the gas station.

When she turns to him, his eyes instinctively checked her over. He's relieved the moment he saw no gun and no knife. No weapons means he said and done the right things this time, though he's not foolish enough to believe she trusts him... after all, she doesn't need weapons to end his life once again.

He gives her his biggest, most welcoming smile that he can. The Deputy responds by narrowing her grey eyes at him, clearly suspicious.

Alright, John thinks as he grits his teeth, We'll work on that.

"Ah, Deputy," he greets with wide arms, without his coat this time, showing that he too had honored the agreed conditions with his empty holster, "You don't know how glad I am to see you make it here."

The Deputy didn't immediately respond, instead observing and analyzing him. John's heart quickened in pace; being in close proximity of her didn't ease his nerves. He prayed that he didn't make the wrong move, say something that would mistakenly tip her off to some non-existent threat.

She was a skittish thing; easily on guard by the smallest movements, tense from the slightest change in tone, most likely to strike if she feels threatened. Even if John wanted to poke fun at her previous failed attempts to get here, he knew she didn't know about those cycles, so his phrasing just comes across as odd.

He almost exhales aloud the breath he was holding in when he sees the neutral stoic expression return. Not a scowl, not wide alarmed eyes and most definitely not a confident smirk before he sent him to suffer through another agonizingly long cycle.

She crosses her arms, her gaze focused on him as she curtly replied, "I'm here now. Spill or I leave."

Straightforward as always.

This next part had been something he'd been practicing for a while. Taking in account the previous attempts ultimately leading to failures, John had been extra cautious this cycle; he did everything he could to avoid her wrath, her distrust and a reason to immediately kill him.

He left the Ryes alone - hell, he even spared Rae-Rae and her mutt - he gave his men strict orders to not kill anyone they detained, even if some were traitors like Alex or resistant like Wendell, and left Fall's End just north of the gas station they were in alone after she reclaimed it once again. He refrained from... getting Deputy Hudson's confession, at least just yet. Nadi was sore about the disuse of the Revelator, but if she knew of what he was going through, he's sure she'd understand the necessity.

He allowed the Deputy to escape, twice. Gave her the tools to escape. He hoped this could at least spark an interest or a benefit of the doubt, at least to hear him out.

Her life depended on it. And his sanity too. Lord, he hopes they can work together to put an end to her untimely demises. At least to stop him from restarting back to the night of the arrest.

"Straight to the point then?" John questioned, one of many that he'd rehearsed throughout these botched attempts to talk with her. She gave an affirming nod, though this time without the irritation that broke through the stoic expression, but John didn't waste time to speak, "As you know Deputy, the Reaping has split us into those who believe in my brother's project and those who disagree with his vision."

The Deputy's brow furrowed, but John continued before she made a snide remark towards him and his family, "Yet through the gaps of this conflict, my best men and women have reported to me a string of strange behavior we believe originates from an unaffiliated and rogue party to our factions."

That wasn't exactly a lie; Sinclair and his faithful brothers and sisters had all, along with himself, witnessed Silva's demise to assassinations and sabotage from an unknown assailant... unlike him, they just don't remember the previous cycles.

Silva looked to him at the mention of "unaffiliated" and "rogue party", processing the information with scrutiny. As expected, she asked with a raised brow, "What makes you say that?"

"Well-" John said with a suave tone, attempting to lean on the kitchen counter, but misplaced his hand, unintentionally sliding a plate off the counter.

The plate's impact on the floor shattered it to pieces, resulting in a reverberating crash across the Golden Valley Gas station upon the dishware breaking.

The Deputy looked alarm, her arm reaching for her holster, though found no handle since it was thankfully empty. She relaxed, and stared at John with an incredulous expression for a short moment of silence.

John just covered his face and coughed to hide the embarrassment. Surely no one passing by would be able to hear that, right? It'd be quite inconvenient if the Deputy and himself were discovered together, not because they'd might mistake one or the other for working together, but because the Deputy would throw him under the bus, at the best and most hopeful scenario she'd just arrest him... though knowing her, she'd equally consider killing him to clear up any misunderstandings.

Not that such a thing had happened... yet.

He just hoped the chances of anyone walking or patrolling nearby was extremely low.

"Ahem," he faux coughed, hoping to get back on topic as he let go of leaning on the bench, "As I was saying- you see, your Resistance may not be aware of it yet, but there's been a low number of activity in murders towards members on both our sides; most that result in shells of a unique bullet that I know neither of our people use, capable of breaking through the human body with extreme ease."

Again, that was technically true; he's seen plenty of times when that bullet propels through the air and always creates an entry and an exit wound upon fatally hitting it's intended target- the Deputy.

Although the "murders on both sides" was a little speculative. John just assumed given the first time he witnessed the Deputy's demise, it was likely the assailant had been disguised as a Chosen, given Alexander seemed to have noticed them first. As for the Resistance... well, the assassin must have retrieved their disguise from somewhere during one messy attempt to recapture Fall's End.

Regardless, the Deputy appeared to be very attentive to his words, which was a good sign. It meant she either knew something or was believing him.

He's still standing uninterrupted, which is a testament in of itself.

"So... an unknown third-party is killing both of our members? If that's true... why are you bringing it to my attention? Why not protect your own and leave this boogeyman to come after the Resistance?" the Deputy questions, looking John up and down, trying to catch the slightest tic of deception.

John grins, and he finds a small vindication from the Deputy's huff of regret, especially from all the times she was snide with him, "That's because, my dear, I have reason to believe that you are this "boogeyman's" intended target."

Another WIP snippet for the Classroom of the Elite chapters of The UnTitled Stories collection. Or Ayanokōji recounts everything from Year 1 right up to the end of Year 2, How I Met Your Mother Ted Mosby style, the series:

"You're pitiful."

I had directed my gaze from my observations on our peers towards you; my sneering, obnoxious desk neighbor.

I remember raising a brow at you, with your poised shoulders and chest held up high with such assurance that I wondered if it was possible for you to lose balance and fall flat on your face.

A rather uncouth and petty fantasy, sure, but I stand by the fact it would have been well-deserved considering your attitude back then.

"Pitiful? How?" I had questioned you. I hadn't understood your comment, nor what prompted it.

You hadn't wasted a second when it came to mocking me, "'Oh, I want to eat with somebody', 'I wish someone would invite me to lunch'. Your thoughts are quite obvious. It's utterly pathetic."

I had observed as you unwrapped your grilled cheese sandwich, a delectable food, one I would have felt envious for.

You were always good at reading me. It left me baffled by just how many times you accurately discerned my intentions. I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise that we'd flock to one another, despite how impossible it should have been...

Though as you know, I couldn't leave you to ridicule me without poking a jab in myself, "Aren't you also alone?"

My attempt to insult you back was ultimately nullified from your next immediate response, "That's true, but I for one prefer to be alone."

You easily bit into your grilled cheese sandwich just as you easily deflected my comebacks. Knowing further derisive comments would ultimately end in failure against you, I had accepted defeat with a soft exhale.

I peered towards our other classmates; watched at how most of the other girls flocked to either Hirata or Kushida, and noticed the absence of Sudō and the other boys.

I had hoped helping him out the day before would have sparked an interest from him, but I supposed my demeanor wasn't as approachable as I thought it was. I hoped he hadn't noticed my desperateness to gain a friend, considering how distant the girls are.

With nothing left to do for the lunch period, I had announced, for your ears only, "I'm going to hit up the cafeteria."

Once I had exited our homeroom, I had came to terms with the fact that I would likely spend most of my years here alone for the foreseeable future.

What I hadn't anticipated was one of our peers going out of her way to seek me out.

"Um... you're Ayanokōji-chan, right?"

I had stopped in my tracks to turn back around, to see the owner of that familiar voice.

...Yes, it was Kushida. The same girl with short beige-colored hair and gradient crimson eyes to compliment her well-endowed figure and shorter stature, especially in that uniform. You know, the school-approved shorter skirt one?

...Yes, those were observations I had made, it was the first time I'd actually met her face-to-face. The relevancy of these details shouldn't be the focus here.

Continuing on, I gave her my attention, and as one of the leading girls in our class, regarded her with respect as well.

"Yes, that's correct," I had answered her, and made her brighten further when I responded, "And you're... Kushida?"

She had seemed quite impressed that I had remembered her name at the time, I had been uncertain as to why though, but I could guess now that she was glad her reputation was spreading, especially within our class.

"I'm glad you remembered my name," she had told me with a overly cheerful smile, "I wasn't too sure if you paid attention during introductions, but thanks anyhow."

I had merely hummed in reply. I hadn't gotten used to being paid gratitude towards yet, so it was quite awkward for me at the time to receive it, especially for something so trivial.

Kushida's adorable expression shifted to something slightly nervous, her hands clasped together in front of her as she softly asked, "It wouldn't be much trouble if we talked for a sec?"

Her small and non-threatening demeanor hadn't alarmed me back then, even when it should have, so I gave her an affirmative nod as she led me down the hall a bit, away from our homeroom.

It was there where she revealed her intentions to me, "The reason I stopped you is because, well, I wanted to ask two very small questions."

I had nodded, letting her know to continue. I had a lot less stress that far back, so it left me free to pursue my growing curiosities.

"Well the first was if I could get your phone number?" she had asked, making me blink in momentary surprise before she elaborated, "I wanted to get it yesterday, but I had been preoccupied with everyone else that you managed to slip away before I could ask you, and I got the impression that you maybe wanted to be left alone as well."

It wasn't an illogical point of deduction, nor an incorrect assumption, considering how fast I wanted to leave, especially after how I blew my introduction. It was worse than Inogashira's, and her timidness managed to earn her encouragement whereas my awkwardness and social ineptitude cost me such sympathies.

I'm getting off-track. From there, I had answered with a resounding and hopefully excited, "Yeah, we can exchange phone numbers, I don't mind. What was your second question?"

Kushida's elated expression of victory toned down when she got to what I know she actually wanted to ask, "Well, Ayanokōji-chan, I wanted to know if you were on good terms with Horikita-san?"

I had tilted my head at the mention of you, almost glancing back to our homeroom to ascertain whether you were secretly close by, eavesdropping. But I dashed that ridiculous thought away, since I determined you weren't that kind of person at the time.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," I had informed her, where her shock broke through her expression, "I wouldn't go that far. We're barely acquaintances, really. Why do you ask?"

I was curious to know how our peers perceived the two of us; I thought it could have been vital knowledge to know, especially when weighing our interactions thus far.

All I received were a confirmation of misconceptions since the beginning of the school day, "Really? You two seemed really close, though. She never lets any of the other girls talk to her, and from what I've seen, you're the only one in our class- in the school, really- that she seems to ever talk to."

She looked away for a few seconds as she stated, "I thought that... maybe you would have the best insight on how to best approach her? She turned me down yesterday, and refused me earlier this morning. It's my goal here to be friends with everyone, especially in our class, but she doesn't seem to want friendship at all. But since she talks to you, I was hoping that maybe you could tell me what kind of personality she had, or if she was the type to share her mind only with close friends?"

I think I would have frowned in that moment, hearing how you flunked your chances to get familiar with the class, though I was a bit preoccupied with Kushida's cute pout. In spite of that though, even if I was still learning on who you were as a person during that time, I knew I couldn't give what I did know away, even if it was to Kushida.

So I had gone for the safest response, "I think that's just the kind of person she is. I can't really help much, I only met Horikita yesterday."

Kushida appeared to be disappointed upon hearing this, her shoulders slumped down. It was a strange moment for me, considering I didn't know if it was appropriate to console her over something that seems so small now.

However, there was a passion that had reignited in Kushida, one I would witness grow throughout our years here, as she grappled onto my hands and declared, "But I still need to be friends with Horikita in spite of all her refusals. No one deserves to live their entire school year alone. It's just not right."

She had looked up at me with pleading eyes, "Could you... maybe help me?"

Her extreme insistence to achieve your friendship should have tipped me off to her actual intent, but I'm sure you can understand why I overlooked this, given her convincing facade.

Admittedly, I too was desperate to gain the friendship of one of my fellow female peers, considering just how poorly my luck was going.

Even if she and I weren't really friends back then, I'd like to think that's where the spark began.

And finally a snippet for my "Kiyotaka Ayanokōji went to ANHS with Ichika Amasawa and Takuya Yagami at beginning of First Year" COTE AU in my What If? WIP. During the Mixed Training Camp exam, after a rendezvous with Karuizawa the day before that involved, ahem a promise~, Kiyotaka is subsequently harassed later the next day during lunch by his fiendish kohais who were hiding in the bushes to witness such a private moment, and they will not stop their relentless teasing. Witness below the average older sibling experience when the younger devils discover the existence of your unofficial and refused to be stated in all but name girlfriend, enjoy:

[Note: Bit rushed here, will edit in final product]

I wondered what was going on with them. They were staring at me with such intensity that it was disrupting my desire to finish breakfast.

Yagami, Amasawa and I were sat at the same table; not an unique sight, given what the classes believe our history to be.

They glanced to one another, then back to me. Yagami observed me with curiosity, hands clasped together resting under his chin, which isn't unusual, as he's done it multiple times over the course of the year.

But his behavior combined with Amasawa's intense staring at me while she rested her cheek against one hand with a big teasing grin on her face and those familiar devlish eyes?

"So, anything you want to share with us, senpai~?" Amasawa was the first to speak, leaning forward as her grin grew manic, and glancing to Yagami, I may have caught a small smirk from him.

Something was off. I wondered... was today the day they'd betray me? Had Yagami finally played his hand against me, made his move to overcome me? Would this be the day I would be expelled, unexpectedly and without anyway to prepare myself? While I was not against improvisation, nor did I appreciate not being informed that I was playing into this trap, I would be sufficiently pleased if I was undermined by a fellow pupil after so long being father's "masterpiece".

However, it turned out to be something so, so much worse.

"Share what?" I questioned cautiously, clueless.

Amasawa and Yagami shared another amused glance. I felt like I was in danger, like when Horikita brings out her compass kind of danger.

"Oh, don't play dumb with us senpai~... there's no point in hiding it," Amasawa pushed further, much to my own growing confusion.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about?" Really, I didn't know what this was in reference too.

"Oh, you know Ayanokōji-san," Yagami spoke up next, trying to goad me into revealing something I was still out of the loop of, "It something that pertains to the relationship of you... and a certain blond classmate of yours... does that ring any bells?"

...Were they referring to Kei? What would she have to do with anything?

"...I don't follow," I told them, considering they already know that Kei was an accomplice of mine, and yet they seem to be acting clueless of that fact.

The two devils made eye contact with each other, with Yagami giving an affirming nod as he and Amasawa did the worse thing possible.

Play into their dramatic antics.

"Oh Kiyo~, tell me, if I ended up in the same situation as Tachibana-senpai, would you save me?" Amasawa, most inaccurately, reiterated Kei's words with such overt exaggeration.

"Kei, I won't let you be expelled. I'd do whatever it takes," Yagami impersonation of me, although slightly less monotone and with subtler emotion, was uncannily close to perfect.

Never in my life did I feel I would be capable of feeling flabbergasted by what I was hearing. Their commotion got a few side-eyes our way, but no one seemed that invested.

These two giggling hyenas were quite troublesome.

"I thought we were being watched," I shook my head, "Where were you hiding?"

"The bushes," Amasawa answered, and looking to Yagami, I received a nod of confirmation.

"So how does my choice of words towards one of my accomplices have to do with my relationship with her?" I questioned, still lost on their reactions.

"Aw senpai~, don't be dense with us now," Amasawa stated, her teasing grin never slipping.

"Of course we've observed how you act towards most of your accomplices and allies," Yagami explained, "Horikita being a prime example. Your investment in her may have been confusing at first, but it was understandable; she's useful in ways the others may not be."

"Same with your "friend" group," Amasawa added, jerking her head over to a direction where I could distantly see Keisei, Airi, Akito and Haruka sitting nearby each other, "Most of them are useful to your personal goals and learning. Not necessary, but useful nonetheless."

"However, with them, you don't find it necessary to protect them, even if they have lower grades like Sakura-san," Yagami pointed out, "Horikita-san's already gained your confidence where you don't necessarily have to protect her, as she can do that herself, but you'll still watch out for her. But with someone like Karuizawa-san, whose grades are poor, usefulness decreasing now that Horikita's leading presence within the class is increasing, not to mention..."

Yagami leaned forward, a faux yet pleasant smirk clearer on his lips now, "You claimed to us that you had no need for her anymore months back, whether it's because her usefulness was at its end or you wanted a low profile notwithstanding... but when Ryūen took her instead of Amasawa and I as you initially believed? You dropped everything, had us drop everything to get her back."

Yagami leaned back, green eyes maintaining an air of assurance, "You've promised to protect her, from others and expulsion. I can guess you'll want to teach her to defend herself too, academically and physically. If I were to really stretch far enough, you're going to get rid of any threats to her well-being too."

"Admit it Ayanokoji-kun... you've gone soft for her," Yagami finally states. It was almost irritable, though I can't deny he had a point.

Learning these observations from these two was odd; being made aware to my behavior outside-perspectives usually involved being made privy to the fact I can't emote, like when Satō pointed out I apparently never smiled on our date, despite the fun things we did.

That was expected though. However, these two shared my history; raised in the same White Room, though with slightly different methods.

For them to take note of behavior unfamiliar and unusual would be something think on.

However, I couldn't tell whether they were being serious, jesting or determining an vulnerability to target, so I wasn't to sure how trustworthy their words were. Besides, I didn't feel anymore different towards Kei, so they had to be wrong. Yes, that had to be it.

"I'll need to return to my group for the next stage of the exam," I excused myself, grabbing my unfinished tray as I made my exit.

Yagami didn't make a comment as I set off, merely enjoying his tea, but Amasawa, true to herself, was set on causing trouble for me, "Be sure to say hi to your GIRLFRIEND for us, senpai~!"

That got the attention of most of the remaining students present for breakfast, and I made haste in my escape to avoid prying eyes connecting back to me.

Such troublesome kohais.

[placeinthisworld]

ttpdta review part one 🤠

let me preface this by stating that i am a swiftie first and person second in this situation. i have grown up with taylor and feel as if shes my big sister- yes i can make fun of her but if i see anyone else do it i will get fiercely protective. i do understand her music is not only art but also her form of therapy. that being said, throughout these nonsense notes i am constantly mentioning that taylor should go to therapy. i am aware of what she has said about therapy (and why she doesn’t go) but i would beg to differ with her…especially after this album release lol.

taylor is an extraordinary storyteller and song writer. i believe this album is full of evidence of that, but it also has some faults that prevent from being as good as i felt like it could have been. overall the album feels rushed.

i also feel like it’s important to recognize the elephant in the room. i know we probably all expected this to be a joe breakup album, so the fact that it turned out to be a “fuck you matty healy” album shook us all a little bit. i know matty had a controversial history, im not gonna sit here and defend him. i don’t know much about him other than what is forced against my will. i do however know that he struggles with mental health issues/ substance abuse/ addiction. i’m not gonna comment much about his personal issues, i don’t feel like that’s right and taylor’s constant references to drugs throughout ttpd definitely rubs me the wrong way. i should also mention i grew up with an active addict and do view things from that perspective, so i feel slightly triggered by the topic and my feelings about that may just be personal but i do mention that in my notes when it’s relevant.

lastly, i am not a music production girlie idk shit lol. i only know i am a aaron dessner stan so any song with his name im already biased towards and i am aware, if u don’t like that idk what to tell u lol. i just know what i feel like is “good” or “bad” but music is subjective🫶🏻

1. Fortnight:

Hate the functional alcoholic part. Like the beat, the chorus is catchy. One thing i love about a taylor swift song is that theres always a story and its always visual. I like the metaphor of the “good neighbors” of like having this teasing/ longing feeling for someone that you could have had a life with. “Your wife waters flowers/ i want to kill her + my husbands cheating/ i want to kill him” feeling like you were robbed of her life, feeling “all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february” reminiscing about the short period of time where you were together and convinced it would last forever (only for it to end before it even started). I do not listen to much post malone but i enjoyed his verse!! So many florida references we get it everything bad happens in florida.

i have not seen the video yet oooopsies

2. Ttpd:

i thought this was the opening of Hey Stephen (the remix) or something at first. gotta say i absolutely love the way she sings “you left your typewriter at my apartment/ straight from the tortured poets department” i enjoyed the vibe of this song, and lyrics up until the “you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate (OKAY SOOOOOOO ME CODED NGL I LAUGHED at this point i could let this lyric slide- bit then she had to mention the charlie puth and golden retriever thing and ngl it almost ruins the song entirely for me. Tbh when i first listened to the leak i thought this was a fake AI song and that i was sending around a fake leak bc these lyrics started to get a little weird to me. ‘Sometimes i wonder if youre gonna screw this up with me/ but you told lucy you’d kill yourself if i ever leave” …………girl i am begging you to see a therapist (side note did anyone else have a friend in hs whos bf would say that shit a lot?? I remember straight up fighting with a friend who refused to break up w her bf bc he would threaten to end his own life is she did and he was like 16? If an adult is saying that same shit i would be Very concerned not gossiping about it???) “i chose this cyclone with you” my first reaction was: ride the cyclone the musical? Overall i liked the first half but you lost me at charlie puth (hes the one with eyebrow right? I think i get him and miles teller mixed up) (i dont know who either of these men are)

3. My boy only breaks his favorite things:

Okay tbh i thought this was gonna be one of my least favorites, but the total opposite happened. I think this is one of my top 5 favorites on this album. I do think that there is a difference between a poem and a song and that they are not always interchangeable. I feel like if this was edited into a poem it would be KILLER. The visuals, the the story, the vocabulary, the sadness in it. “Im queen of sandcastles he destroys/ There was danger in the heat of my touch/ once i fix me/ hes gonna miss me/ i felt more when we played pretend then with all the kens / cause he took me out of my box” i feel like ever since folklore, taylors been trying to push these big fancy words and sometimes it feels awkward and forced, but this is one of the rare songs that doesn't suffer from that.

4. Down bad:

meh. Chorus is catchy. I dont love the narrative “fuck it if i cant have him/ i might just it would make no difference” but i also have never once experienced that over a person before lmao……….taylor go to therapy. Nothing really stands out about this to me otherwise. No offense, but it sounds like a generic jack antonoff song lol. Like maybe if another artist released this, i would enjoy it more but idk i wouldnt expect it from taylor i guess. Just kinda feels boring to me sorry if u enjoy it <3

5. So long, london:

oh man were done with british men now for real for real. “ two graves one gun. I'll find someone” its over for joe and matty (but thats fine if all she has to say about joe is what i think she said on this album i am happy i think We Get It…) Aaron dessner i love u (remember when he reposted me on his ig ahh).”i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift/ pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away” + “I stopped trying to make him laugh/ stopped trying to drill the safe/ i didnt opt in to be our odd man out/ im pissed off you let me give you all of that youth for free” oof i FELT that one a LITTLE too hard. I think this is both a song about matty and joe- i think she had a life and an attachment to london just in general through both relationships, “im just mad as hell because i loved this place” and so reflecting back on how both are over and how all those plans with either are done. “You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days” OKAY kinda hate this phrase bc it feels like shes placing blame on whomever’s mental health/ depression, like as if they made the conscious decision to sacrifice the relationship solely. This very much feels like “how much sadness did you think i could take before i got bored???” overall top favorite songs bc it doesnt have too many cringey or odd lyrics and the production is 10/10 thank u aaron dessner ilysm king

6. But daddy i love him:

tbh when i got the leak this was the first song i listened to bc i thought it was gonna be the worst one and i wanted to get it over with (i was RIGHT until she dropped that second half……..) and i DIDNT have the lyrics obviously so i couldnt for the life of me figure out if she really said “im having his baby…..NO IM NOT!” until the VERY end of the song and bro…….the cringe. The cringe. The cringe. This is also when i started to question if this was real or if i was passing out a fake leak, lol. I dont understand how she could be saying this shit about matty. And like we all know it lol. “Sometimes growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all” …….but like does it??? I feel like thats kinda an oxymoron or something like i understand what shes trying to say and MOST of the time her metaphors and comparisons make sense to me but like this one doesnt. Growing up precocious means to grow up more advanced in maturity, how would that also mean not growing up at all? Is it just me getting stoned and overthinking things? “Ill tell you something about my good name/ its mine alone to disgrace” true that bestie ur doin a great job by being so politically quiet over the past couple of yeats after making a whole asss documentary about wanting to be on the right side of history. But I digress i am just one of those bitches performing soliloquies you'll never see. Overall this song is very weird and cringey imo and i wish it stayed in whatever vault it was sitting in lol.

7.Fresh out of the slammer: “In the shade of how he was feeling” -_- dont like this narrative already. I could honestly go on a rant about why i dont like this song but im going to spare for the sake of my sanity in this review of thirty one fucking songs but its along these lines “to the one who says im the girl of his american dreams” oh brother. otherwise i dont care for many of the lyrics, the chorus/ melody/vibe is mid i guess. It sounds like another jack song (i was right)

8. Florida!!!: “all my friends smell like weed or little babies” okay i know what she was trying to say but im SORRY you cant tell me she couldnt think of ANY other way to say her friends are either parents partiers lmao. Deserves jail for that but luckily the vibe and the chorus of the song are really catchy and florence’s voice is beautiful in it. “Well me and my ghost we had a hell of a time/ yes im haunted but im feeling just fine” CHILLS i loved it. I didnt think i would like this song but (maybe as much as i like no body, no crime which is meh) but no i lowkey love this song and think its really fun. Once again the drug references start to get heavy here in the album and like i mentioned i do get slightly triggered by drug mentions.

9. Guilty as sin?:

okay taylor we get it you masterbate. Another strong jack song and it’s pretty similar to others on the album so nothing besides the sexual lyrics stand out.

10. Whos afraid of little old me?:

“if you wanted me dead you should have just said/ nothing makes me feel more alive” ooooooooooh i love that. I feel like a live or an acoustic version of this song would give me CHILLS. “Is it a wonder i broke / lets hear one more joke/ then we can all laugh until i cry” honestly so relatable, “i was tame, i was gentle til the circus life made me mean” oh :( that hurt bc it just reminds me of the vibe shift during midnights era/ eras tour where it *feels* like she started to pull back from being taylor swift and started to become Taylor Swift (™) and the way her fans/ media has treated her made her mean or cold or something and that just makes me feel sad. “Whos afraid of little old me? You caged me and then you called me crazy! I am what i am cause you trained me! SO. WHOS. AFRAID. OF ME? Again the narcotics line kinda makes me feel icky but thats bc i have that thing about drugs and just dont LOVE all the references to them. Like i know its not that serious but theres a reason why i dont seek out artists that typically talk or write about that stuff ya know so its weird. Overall i think the production is one of the most unique ones on this part of the album.

11. I can fix him (no really i can):

i hate it all around i think. I hate the narrative of “i can fix him!! I can handle a dangerous man!!! No really i can!!!” there is a reason why this song is barely 3 mins long lol it should have been cut but i think taylor wanted to Be Edgy. i dont care for the productions or the lyrics, its very forgetful imo.

12. Loml:

okay i really thought this was gonna be a joe song (rip) so i was thinking it was gonna be really deep and sad and like it IS but with the context of it being the pt 2 fling with matty it doesnt seem like it now. Anyone who thinks this is not about matty please look at the lyrics and be so serious “whos gonna stop us from waltzing back into reklndled flames/ if we know the steps anyway” I think matty just said too much shit to taylor during their fling and taylor WAS truly convinced this her invisible string and he promised her a lot that he couldnt upkeep and ghosted her and she took it SUPER hard, i mean two breakups in one year is a lot (me, whos never been through a single breakup once). I just dont understand how she feels like matty is the greatest loss of her life. One of my favorite tracks on the album, “our field of dreams engulfed in fire/ your arsons match your somber eyes” a LOT of these lyrics are actually really good imo. I think im the only one that didnt find the “mr. steal your girl and make her cry” line idk i thought it was actually kinda neat, the phrasing of it, kinda contradicts the title “love of my life” because he was never that serious or respectful of her and only use her from the beginning. This is another song that i think would make KILLER poem over song. Overall i think the piano is haunting and a live version of this will make me die, thank u again aaron dessner 10/10

13. I can do it with a broken heart:

ngl i thought this was the opening to mastermind for a hot second- also gave me a scare on whether or not this was a fake leak lol. Catchy ass chorus but very YOYOK. “Breaking down i hit the floor/ All the pieces of me shattered/ as the crowd was shouting “more!” ooffffffff seeeeee that is exactly WHAT i was afraid she was feeling durning the eras tour after the joe breakup/ matty situation and all these stupid twitter and tik tok swiffers were out here overanalyzing EVERYTHING and demanding rep tv like every other day. “Im so depressed i act like its my birthday” …….okay taylor. Like a lot of people have said, i think she interchanges “depressed” for “sad” a lot and the two are not the same. I think taylor wrote this song (but specifically the “i cry a lot time but i am so productive” and was like “yup this part is gonna go viral on tik tok,” initially i wrote “feels like taylor saw that depression barbie commercial in barbie 2023 and wrote a song based on that” lol which i still agree with. Overall the production of this screams midnights reject lol, very jack antonoff. Over time this song has grown on me a lot. Originally i didnt care for it but now its kind of a bop but i think its bc its so similar to YOYOK. “Try and come for my job” @taylorswift deadass you couldn’t think of anything else to say instead. cmon. I was mostly on board until that very last part, just seemed very cheesy lol like its not a big deal but i thought it delivered well without it.

14. The smallest man who ever lived:

(aaron thank u for saving me and this entire album) “they just ghosted you/ now you know what it feels like” OUCH. “i dont even want you back i just want you to know/ if rusting my sparkling was the goal/ and i dont miss what we had but can someone give/ a message to the smallest man who ever lived” oh this was somber af. I am obsessed with the phrasing of the chorus. I also LOVE taylors deeper voice its def giving me the same feelings MTR gave me from folklore, that made me CRY and this was very similar. This is another classic taylor song that i could EASILY write like a ten page essay about if someone put a gun to my head. I know that its about a *romantic* relationship, but it feels general enough to be able to relate to anyone who is close to someone with an addiction or struggles with substances. A lot of addicts dont understand the impact of their addiction or their behaviors that they display while struggling. To meeeeee, this feels very much like “you were self centered and betrayed my trust, was any of this true? Real? Am i paranoid or is this that deep?” “it wasnt sexy once it wasnt forbidden” has me thinking lots of things. I think that describes taylors “type”if that makes sense? Like i said i would need to literally break this song down line by line like its ridiculous i have too many thoughts about this song i have listened to it on repeat six times by the time im typing this. “In public showed me off/ then sank in stoned oblivion” FUCK. “you treat her like an also-ran” honestly i have never heard of that phrase/word thank u dr. swift. “Were you sent by someone who wanted me DEAD/ did you sleep with a GUN underneath OUR BED/ were you writing a BOOK?/ were you a sleeper cell SPY? IN 5O YEARS WILL THIS BE ALL DECLASSIFIED?/ AND YOU’LL CONFESS WHY YOU DID IT!/ AND ILL SAY GOOD RIDDANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” tears were formed besties. Also love the gracie abrams reference. “And you deserve prison but you wont get time” i feel like is very metaphorical like you DESERVE to be punished for what you did to me but you won’t admit to the guilt, you wont admit your wrongdoings, you wont admit that i would have done anything for you and you have no problem replacing me. “You said normal girls were boring/ but you were gone by the morning” first of all red flag girlie, nonetheless heartbreaking. “And in plain sight you hid/ but you are what you did” i say this with all the love in my heart, someone take taylor swift to a really good really private therapist. I could say more but i think i need to move on because i am now on my eighth cyle of listening to this song.

15. The alchemy:

already kinda hate it. “What if i told you im back/ the hospital was a drag/ worst sleep i ever had” do you think taylor swift has ever been admitted to a real hospital in this context. Feels very out of place and like i said earlier i dont love the psych ward visuals/ references she keeps inserting in this album. “He jokes its heroin but this time with an e” thanks! I fucking hate that line so much. Feels very icky, not funny. I get what shes going for but it falls so flat for me. The football references (yall know my opinion on meathead!!!!!!!! I will not engage!!!) are fucking dumb. Production is kinda lame and uninterested. Will only listen to this song if by force and will not repeat it ive head enough lets move on.

i have Lots Of Thoughts. i don’t think anyone cares about what i have to say though so i don’t think i’ll bother posting the rest lol but i did do a lot of work so ill post just a bit to make myself feel better.

[xtruss]

Opinion: Town Sums up the Delusions of the Right Wing

The embrace of the country star’s anti-city ‘modern lynching song’ by Republicans encapsulates their nostalgia and paranoia

— Arwa Mahdawi | July 20; 2023

‘Small towns are full of “good ol’ boys” who were “raised up right”. Cities, meanwhile, are hotbeds of violence … and diversity.’ Photograph: Wade Payne/Invision/AP

Jason Aldean is a country music star and a big fan of law and order. He loves the law so much, in fact, that he’s willing to take it into his own hands.

If you come to his (imaginary) small town and disrespect a cop or engage in any sort of protest, you will regret it.

Such is the theme of Aldean’s new song, Try That in a Small Town, which is all about how the singer and his pals will aggressively deal with unseemly behaviour on their turf. A sample extract: “Cuss out a cop, spit in his face … Well, try that in a small town / See how far ya make it down the road. / Around here, we take care of our own …”

A little later in the song Aldean elaborates further on what might happen if lines are crossed. “Got a gun that my grandad gave me / They say one day they’re gonna round up. / Well, that shit might fly in the city, good luck.” He is, it would appear, referencing a conspiracy theory that the government is going to confiscate Americans’ guns to impose martial law.

Try That in a Small Town was released in May but when the music video came out last Friday it generated immediate controversy. The video leaves little doubt as to what Aldean is trying to communicate: it intersperses footage of him singing in front of Maury county courthouse in Tennessee – the site of the lynching of a Black man, Henry Choate, in 1927 – with footage from protests, looting and civil unrest. Small towns are wholesome, the message is. Full of “good ol’ boys” who were “raised up right”. Cities, meanwhile, are hotbeds of violence … and diversity.

That last bit isn’t spelled out – it’s not like Aldean yells “I’m a massive racist!” in the middle of the track – but the dog whistles are difficult to ignore. The song has been called “a modern lynching song” by detractors and the video was pulled from Country Music Television (CMT) on Monday. (While CMT has confirmed the video was taken off rotation, it hasn’t put out a statement as to why.) Fellow country star Sheryl Crow has also voiced her disapproval. “There’s nothing small-town or American about promoting violence,” Crow tweeted on Tuesday. She further noted that Aldean should know better, “having survived a mass shooting”. Crow was referencing the shooting at Las Vegas’s Route 91 Harvest festival in 2017: the deadliest mass shooting by a lone shooter in modern US history. Aldean was performing and got out unscathed. He was lucky. Sixty people were killed and 867 injured. Those people weren’t killed and injured by a Black Lives Matter protester. They were killed by Stephen Paddock, an angry white man from Iowa.

Try That in a Small Town has generated a lot of criticism, but it also has fervent supporters. Including, of course, GOP lawmakers. “I am shocked by what I’m seeing in this country with people attempting to cancel this song and cancel Jason and his beliefs,” the South Dakota Republican governor, Kristi Noem, posted in a video on Twitter on Wednesday. The Tennessee house GOP leader, William Lamberth, similarly tweeted: “Loved this song since it was released and will continue to fight every day to spread small town values … Give it a listen. The woke mob will hate you for liking this song.” Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the governor of Arkansas, also didn’t miss the chance to stoke a little culture war. “The Left is now more concerned about Jason Aldean’s song calling out looters and criminals than they are about stopping looters and criminals,” she tweeted.

Aldean, for his part, is furious at insinuations there is anything racist in his song about shooting outsiders who come to his little country town.

“In the past 24 hours I have been accused of releasing a pro-lynching song,” Aldean tweeted on Wednesday, “and was subject to the comparison that I (direct quote) was not too pleased with the nationwide BLM protests. These references are not only meritless, but dangerous. There is not a single lyric in the song that references race or points to it – and there isn’t a single video clip that isn’t real news footage.”

If Aldean isn’t trying to make a point about the Black Lives Matter protests, what is Try That in a Small Town about then? Community, apparently. “When u grow up in a small town, it’s that unspoken rule of ‘we all have each other’s backs and we look out for each other,’” Aldean wrote on Instagram when he launched the video. “It feels like somewhere along the way, that sense of community and respect has gotten lost.”

Jason Aldean, from the ‘small town’ of Macon, Georgia. Photograph: Amy Harris/Invision/AP

Perhaps you’re wondering which quaint small town Aldean grew up in. The answer is: he didn’t. Aldean is from Macon, Georgia – a city with a population of about 153,000 people. Now he lives in Nashville, a city with a population of approximately 700,000. The small town he’s singing about is a product of his imagination.

But that’s conservatives for you. Last month Nikki Haley tweeted about how much better the US used to be back in the days before marginalized people had rights. “Do you remember when you were growing up, do you remember how simple life was, how easy it felt? It was about faith, family, and country,” she tweeted.

Was the past really that easy for the former South Carolina governor? By her own admission things have got a hell of a lot better for people who, like her, aren’t 100% white. “Years ago I was disqualified from a pageant because they didn’t know whether to put me in the white category or the black,” she wrote on Facebook in 2012. “I was neither. Tonight I watched my daughter get first place in her school pageant. God has an amazing way of bringing things full circle.” God also has an amazing away of depriving people like Haley of self-awareness.

Aldean’s song doesn’t just epitomize manufactured rightwing nostalgia, it also encapsulates rightwing paranoia. People on the right are obsessed with the idea that big cities are violent hotbeds of crime where you risk your life every time you nip out for a pint of milk. In reality, however, big cities tend to be safer than small towns. A 2013 study by the University of Pennsylvania, for example, found the risk of death from an injury was more than 20% higher in rural small towns than in larger cities. “Cars, guns and drugs are the unholy trinity causing the majority of injury deaths in the US” one of the researchers told NBC News at the time.

The pandemic, to be fair, saw a rise in violent crimes in cities. But even still, you’ve got a better chance of living a long, healthy life in a city. A 2021 US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report on mortality data from 1999 to 2019 found people living in rural areas die at higher rates than those living in urban areas. That’s because they have less access to healthcare and are more likely to live in poverty.

So what’s next for Aldean? Well, I’ve got some good news for all the Republican lawmakers screeching about how unfair it is that Aldean has been cancelled by the woke mob: he’s going to be fine. Indeed, he’s going to be more than fine. Country music (and America) has a way of opening its arms to people accused of racism and making them feel right at home. Just look at Morgan Wallen, for example. In February 2021 TMZ published a video of the musician drunkenly yelling the N-word during a conversation with a friend. He was shunned from polite society for a few months but made a rapid comeback. He won album of the year at the Academy of Country Music Awards in 2022. His song Last Night is currently in its 14th week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100. If it sticks there a little longer he’ll beat the 19-week record currently held by Lil Nas X’s Old Town Road, featuring Billy Ray Cyrus.

While people on the right may be railing about Aldean being “cancelled”, the sad truth is that this will probably help his career. He’ll go on Fox News and yell about wokeness. He’ll wallow in his imagined victimhood. His song will probably be played in rallies for the next Republican nominee for president. Aldean hasn’t been cancelled or silenced – his message has been amplified.

[gallivich]

19 jan

2025 #6

Hiiiii

Today was .. boring. To say the least liek i did nothingat all !!!!!! Which i kinda needed LOL im lowkey tempted to draw more and post drawings on here??? Or maybe i should make a seperate account for that???? MAN IDK coz tumblr seems to REALLY like art and tbf i love drawing Sooo.

In my crk addict era im havign so much fun. I dont think im gonna survive double pe in the fucking freezing cold plsying football first thing in the morning tmr jesus christt this is child abuse(im jsut dramatic)

Im laughingbecaue why did tiktok get banned for like 14 hours and its back already likeee erm! Woulf be kinda good for me if tiktoks banned in uk next im an addicy I HATE IT

anyway. Um i have nothing to say today actually ive been playing a lot of crk and i watched dont deliver us from evil after trying for YEARS NOW i briefly got to watch it but it had no subtitles and sometimes random minutes were cut off and it was on the dodgiest website ever but now its jsut on youtube!!! It was kinda crazy gave it 2 stars on letterboxd!!! :P kinda fucked up but not enough to get fully banned tahts too extra . and ermmmmm ya i did like nothing and so now im going to sleep coz i have school (YAY I MISS EVERYONE) and coz im tired my dog also almost ran away then my mum was mad at me for no reason and i felt a little mentally ill but thats the norm VUT YAY i hate mondays so much tho but im gonna survive uguys . Teh only thng kesping me alive is the 25 minute video im ab to watch in history. Sighhhhhhh im so garfield and im so ashamed of watching old shane dawson videos. Heres me confessing rn. And i just ate my croissant i was gonna have for breakfast but maybe i csn enjoy my morning skinny IM SOOOO TIRREEEEDDDDD i need new intrests so bad i hate everyhting i like rn

GOODNIGHT TUMBLR GOOD DAY ALL

get with u - clairo

[themaladaptivewriter12]

Title: Friend? Or Foe?

Part 3 of my “The Lion's Den” series! Part 1 and 2 here!

Parings: None

Summary:

Days passed, and Leona continued this weird behavior. One day Leona was in Mirai’s space, and one day he wasn’t. One day they were bickering, fighting like they hated each other, and the next Mirai was crushing hard as Leona helped him study for his Potionology test. It was weird. And he did visit often, even sometimes when Grim and Mirai weren’t there. And he could always tell he had been there. Mirai could tell from the way the cushions were rumpled, or by the way the throw was placed. Things were always a little out of place but never missing, and never messy.

cw: Arguments, light angst, bloody noses mentioned , fist fights (aftermath described), biting (references to my previous work in this series), smoking

a/n: Please Read: I don't wanna say this was graphic, but it all depends on your comfort levels as readers, so the warning is there. They do fight, but I wanna put it out there that Mirai is okay, he can hold his own.

a/n: This is not a "Bullies to lovers". Just putting that out there. I wanna show Mirai's and Leona's process of trust and eventual love.

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do!  (─‿‿─)♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

Life went back to normal after Mirai’s stay at the Savanaclaw Dorm. Ramshackle was still standing, Grim was Grim, and on Monday, classes started anew. And of course he got dozens and dozens of confused, and also concerned looks from student and staff alike, but what could he do, he looked terrible. And of course Ace, Deuce wanted to know who’d lay a hand on their best friend, and of course Professor Crewel wanted to light the whole campus on fire in overprotective rage, but Mirai didn’t care, he had more important things to worry about. Like his relationship with the man who gave him the black eye, Leona Kingscholar. Mirai was still crushing on Mr.Tall, dark, and handsome, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Like, he was pretty certain the lion hated him, but if that was the case, why was he being so-

“Oi herbivore,” Leona called, “let’s ditch.”

Nice? 

Mirai didn’t know how or why he ended up following Leona to the Botanical Gardens, when they should have been in the lecture hall, but here he was, sitting in the grass as Leona got comfortable under a tree. Mirai watched him for a bit, wondering what his aim was, because if there was anything Mirai learned since being dropped here was that not one of the boys, except Kalim maybe, did anything without some type of ulterior motive. Nothing really was out of the kindness of their hearts. Take Azul for example, not one of his good deeds, his contracts, were out of the kindness of his heart, each and everyone of them for his own gain. Or Ruggie, he never does anyone a favor unless he gets something two times more in value in return, namely money. Even Leona was infamous for doing it, even if what he wanted in return was peace and quiet.

“Trouble tuning the lights on up there?”

Mirai jumped from his musing, eyes locking onto Leona who had presumably been staring at him the entire time. Mirai pouted petulantly, with a roll of his eyes and busied himself with doing some homework that was due next period. Leona chuckled at his pouting, a smug look crawling it way onto his roguish face as he relaxed into the plush grass once more.

Some time had passed and Mirai was still stuck on one of his history homework questions. It was on the Fundamentals of Magic, and their Founding Fathers. The question was simple enough, but when you knew nothing of the world you were spat into, the simplest of things became a challenge. 

“Since you’re not gonna let me nap in peace,” Leona gruffed, “tell me what’s got your tail twisted in a knot.”

“I-I, uh, sorry,” Mirai muttered, taking a hand from his hair, a habit of his when he was frustrated. And now that he thought about it, he must have been sighing as well. 

Leona snapped his fingers to get the Prefect's attention, “Show me.”

Mirai reluctantly made his way to Leona’s spot in the grass before sitting beside his head. Leona took the worksheet from Mirai with his free hand and read it over. 

“This stuff is elementary,” Leona scoffed, “I knew you were kinda airheaded, but not this bad.”

“And who knew the Great Leona Kingscholar could be a dunce,” Mirai quipped back.

“What was that?” Leona sneered.

“How ‘bout turning those lights for a second and think about what you just said,” Mirai smirked, throwing Leona’s words back at him.

Leona actually seemed to stop and think it over, and it seemed he caught on for he sighed with a grumble. “Give it here.”

“Gladly,” Mirai smiled.

Leona ended up spending the rest of the period helping Mirai, he even went as far as to teach him an old elementary school rhyme on how to remember the important names and information. And this is exactly what Mirai was talking about. Leona Kingscholor, the third year notorious for not doing anything unless he got something in return. The man notorious for hating tedious and irksome tasks, the Beastman notorious for not sticking his neck out for anyone unless it pertained to him, was helping Mirai Yuhara, Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm, the seventeen year old without a mark to his name, or an asset, with his History homework. 

“You got it? Or do ya need me to run over it one more time?” Leona asked.

“U-Uh, I, uh, one, one more time,” Mirai stammered, “And uh, could you help me note the, uh, the important parts?”

Leona snapped his fingers for the notebook and a pencil, and Mirai scurried to pass them over. Leona sat up a bit as he went over it all once more, writing as he spoke. Mirai tried to take all the information in, he really did, but then again, maybe he was taking in a bit too much information. Like the way Leona’s ears twitched when he spoke, or the rasp in his voice, or the way the light from the Botanical Gardens glinted off chocolate waves, and beautiful earthy skin. Or maybe it was the way Leona’s tail swished lazily in the plush grass, or maybe it was the greens of his eyes that looked like deep pools emerald, eyes that held the warmth of a summer’s day, eyes that were now currently boring holes into Mirai’s soul-wait! What?!

Mirai jumped, mind reeling as he realized what he had been doing for the past-whatever minutes, instead of paying attention to what Leona was teaching. 

“Mind telling me what’s so interesting about me instead of what I took the time out of my nap to teach you?” Leona gruffed.

“W-Wait, I was paying attention, I swear! I-I-I, ugh,” Mirai groaned, sighing as he ran his hand through his hair, “It’s as you said before, I’m an airhead. Always have been, I honestly think it’s something deeper, but never got tested ya’know? My mother used to tell me that I had trouble listening and following directions as a toddler, and I think the accident made it worse, scrambled the brain and whatnot, an-” 

Mirai realized he was rambling, and oversharing, again, and promptly shut his mouth, annoyance overpowering his embarrassment. “Forget all of that. It’s as you said, I’m an airhead. So if you please, one more time?”

Leana didn’t say anything as he stared over again, and Mirai was grateful. He really didn’t want to explain himself, but he couldn’t help but wonder why Leona didn’t say anything. Was he just as embarrassed as Mirai was, annoyed, or did he just not know what to say? Mirai willed the thought away. He’d ponder later, but right now, he wanted to actually pay attention, he didn’t want to waste anymore of Leona’s time than he already did.

As the week passed, Mirai couldn’t get their impromptu study session out of his mind. He just couldn't figure out why he’d help him out like that. Not only did he interrupt his nap, which was the biggest crime to commit against Leona Kingscholar, he also wasted his time by zoning out, and despite all of that, Leona still helped him with his homework. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. 

Making his way through the Ramshackle’s front door, Mirai realized it was unlocked. That Grim, never remembering to lock the front door after he leaves. With a huff of annoyance, Mirai made his way in, shucking his shoes off at the door, he’d have to scold Grim when he got back. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Mirai hollered to no one in particular, as he made his way into the lounge. It was a little something he did that got a little giggle from himself every time. 

“Welcome back. Dinner’s on the stove.”

Mirai screeched at the raspy voice, his phone fumbling in his hands as he tried to catch it before it shattered on the floor. After Mirai got his bearings did he realize that lying on the couch under the stairs where the sun's afternoon rays were the strongest, was Leona Kingscholar. His molten chocolate tresses cascaded over the couch cushions, and his yellow Savanaclaw vest was balled up underneath his cheek. His sandals were nowhere to be found, probably left by the door, courteous, and on the far right armrest lay his gloves and belt.

“Le-Leona?!” Mirai stuttered.

“That’s ma name, don’t wear it out,” Leona muttered. 

“Wha-What are you doing here? And how did you get in? You didn’t break the lock, did you?! Because if you did, I swear-”

“You swear what? Whaddya gonna do, Herbivore?”

Mirai went silent and pouted petulantly and Leona smirked like the smug cat he was.

“C’mon, Herbivore. I’m not that messy. That furball let me in when he was on his way out,” Leona supplied, stretching out across the couch.

Mirai thought about poor Grim. He probably was shaking in his fur when Leona approached him. Mirai sighed, “So what are you doing here?”

“Taking a nap,” Leona yawned, getting comfortable once more, “The guys won’t think to find me here.”

Mirai sighed again, knowing he wasn’t gonna win against Leona, not even in his own home. So he just ignored him as he left the lounge to make his way upstairs to get comfortable for the rest of the day. After Mirai changed into some comfortable clothes, made himself a snack, and made his way to the other couch in front of the tall floor to ceiling window. Drawing one side of the curtains to lessen the glare on his laptop, Mirai made sure not to deprive Leona of his sun, as he got comfortable before starting his homework. 

The two of them sat in silence, but it was a comfortable one. Leona dozed quietly, the occasional snore, or sigh escaping his lips. And if he shuffled a bit to change positions, the old springs and frame of the couch creaked and squeaked in protest. On Mirai’s side of the room, the click-clack of Mirai typing on his laptop filled the silence, and if you tried hard enough, or had a heightened sense of hearing like Leona, you could pick up the quiet melody from the music Mirai had blaring in his cheap earbuds.

Time passed, but neither of them acknowledged it. The skies went from blue to orange, the sun's rays got warmer as their light changed from their soft yellows to deep golds. Dust motes danced across the room with the light rays as their stage, the dorm creaked and whined with every kiss of the breeze, but even after all of that, time seemed to stop. Nothing mattered, the world didn’t matter, nothing but the quiet moment in the Ramshackle lounge.

Leona awoke from his nap, slowly regaining the workings of his own body, becoming aware again. Like being aware that his right arm was asleep from sleeping on it, the annoying feeling of pins and needles crawling its way along his skin. He was aware of the fact that he somehow was lying with his tail wrapped around his hip, he was aware of his full bladder and empty stomach, and he was aware that he was still there on that crumby couch in the Ramshackle Dorm. 

Distantly Leona wondered about the time, but didn’t care enough to feel around for his phone. If his dorm needed him, he’d deal with it later. Cracking an eye open, Leona eyed the Ramshackle Prefect. Mirai lay lax across the right armrest, his homework forgotten, his earbuds still blasting whatever noise he called music into his ears. 

Leona sighed, sitting up, stretching his arms over his head, letting the kinks in his back pop loudly as he yawned tiredly, his mouth wide, teeth sharp. Checking his phone after fishing it from between the shoddy, torn, threadbare cushions, it was half past seven, and he had several missed calls from Ruggie. Great, he definitely was gonna get an earful from that little scavenger. Leona quietly gathered his things, his feet light and tactical on those worn and neglected wooden floors. Double checking one last time, Leona scanned the room, tired green eyes landing on the prefect once more.

Later that evening, Mirai was awoken by a hungry Grim and as he sat up, the throw he liked to keep on the rocking chair pooled into his lap.

Days passed, and Leona continued this weird behavior. One day Leona was in Mirai’s space, and one day he wasn’t. One day they were bickering, fighting like they hated each other, and the next Mirai was crushing hard as Leona helped him study for his Potionology test. It was weird. It was like night and day, and it seemed like Mirai was the only one affected.

Mirai asked Grim if he noticed, but the little monster hardly noticed anything that didn’t have to do with food or himself. But he did notice the increased visits from Leona, claiming that the sleep Housewarden was “cramping their style.” 

And he did visit often, even sometimes when Grim and Mirai weren’t there. Sometimes Mirai would come back from classes and find him sleeping on the couch, but most of the time he wasn’t. But Mirai could tell he had been there. He could tell from the way the cushions were rumpled, or by the way the throw was placed. Things were always a little out of place but never missing, and never messy.

Ugh. Mirai was mentally berating himself for not making his way to the courtyard. That way he could cover more ground, that way he could get some help, but no, he made the stupid decision to hide in one of the bathrooms, and it just had to be the one on the farthest wing of the school. Just his rotten luck.

Mirai really needed to stop running his mouth. He and Grim were surrounded, it was six against one, well, two if you counted Grim. There were the two guys from Savanaclaw, a guy from Diasomnia, two guys from Octavinelle and a guy from Pomefiore, all of which were ready to beat him to a pulp. 

“You don’t have your little entourage to help you now,” the blonde Pomefiore student sneered.

“Got nowheres ta go,” the Bobcat Beastman growled, closing in.

Mirai’s eyes darted for any openings, anything to help him, anything to get him out of this situation unscathed. But the more he looked, the more he searched, the more he began to panic. Then his eyes landed on Grim. 

“Cat’s land on their feet, yeah,” Mirai muttered, his eye cutting to Grim, who he pushed behind himself.

“Whatcha whisperin’ about over there?!” The Leopard laughed, “Ya better be whisperin’ your prayers that you’ll be breathin’ after we’re done with ya.”

Grim sneered, “I keep telling ya I ain’t no cat.”

“Well let’s just hope you do,” Mirai muttered.

“What are you talkin’ abo-”

With a swiftness, Mirai snatched Grim up by the scruff of his fur, and chucked him across the room. Grim wailed, little stubby arms flailing as he flew, and luckily he landed on all four paws near the door.

“Hey,” the long black haired fae from Diasomnia shouted, ducking lest he get a face full of fur.

“Run Grim! Get outta here,” Mirai shouted.

“B-But-” Grim stuttered.

“Go get some help! Just go!”

The Leopard Beastman growled loudly, turning his attention to Mirai, and one of the Mers turned to Grim. Grim gulped loudly and scurried through the door and down the hall, the Fishman hot on his three pronged tail. Mirai hoped that that little cat got away.

“Leave the familiar be,” the blonde from Pomefiore said, “By the time his little legs can carry him, we’ll be done here.”

Mirai swallowed, his eyes narrowing. 

The white haired Bobcat was first to lunge, Mirai evaded him, but the brown haired Leopard took his left, his literal blindside, and Mirai wasn’t as lucky. Mirai tried to rip his arm from his grasp, but the Bobcat rounded his right again, getting a hold of his right arm. Squirming, Mirai thrashed and kicked, his sneakers sliding as skidding across the slick tiled floors.

“What happened to all that talk, Dear one?” the Octavinelle student sneered, taking his time walking up to the three. “It is you who said you could take us all in a fight, yet you were the first one running.”

Mirai grunted as, yanking his arms, trying to free himself, “Shut up, fish face. Yo-”

Suddenly, the Mer snatched Mirai’s face between his fingers, squeezing hard, “Listen here, you waste of skin, some of us worked too long and too hard to get here, and I’m not gonna sit here and be insulted by someone who’s getting-”

Mirai spit in his face and the first punch was thrown.

Ploink. Ploink. Ploink.

The faucet leaked above Mirai as he lay there on the bathroom floor, watching the sunset through the small windows close to the ceiling. The forgotten bathroom was bathed in a serene golden glow, the warmth of the sun seeping into his skin. Gentle. Overbearing. Overheating. 

Ploink. Ploink. Ploink.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

  The faucet was dripping in time with his pulse, it was annoying. His head was pounding, so was his eye. It hurt to think, it hurt to look anywhere else but up, it hurt to breathe. Mirai reached up to his face, his fingers coming back a mottled red. Sticky. Tacky. Familiar.

Ploink. Ploink. Ploink.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His nose was clogged, swollen. He was pretty sure it was full of blood, and he was pretty sure he shouldn’t be lying like this, but far from caring. Not that he could sit up anyways. His breathing was shallow, his heart was beating slowly, and the slow waltz between the sink, his head, and his heart was making him nauseous. Mirai just hoped he didn’t blow chunks down his shirt. Because that would just be the icing on the cake.

Leona smelled iron before he even registered that that sickly thick scent was blood. Leona wouldn’t have cared, it wasn’t any of his business, but that scent was strong, too strong, and for some vile reason, it was oddly familiar. Leona traveled the empty halls, looking, searching, following the scent trail to the source. Leona turned the halls, his pace quickening a bit as he wracked his brain as to why he knew that scent. 

Ruggie and Epel flashed through his mind, but they didn’t fit the bill. Ruggies blood wasn’t rich, it was always too thin, too light. With that fact, Leona made a mental note to up the little runt’s wages. Epel on the other hand normally smelled too sweet, but it was also rich, and balanced. The kid didn’t bleed much, not around him that was, but it wasn’t him either.

Mirai pulled himself up steadily, sobbing as his injuries twinged with fiery hate. His thighs screamed, his arms shook, and as another wave of nausea washed over him, his knees threatened to give. But he pushed himself to stand, managing to lean his weight over the counter, and when he did, he was panting hard, a cold sweat dotting his brow. 

Mirai looked at himself in the mirror, and to be frank, the person staring back at him looked so alien to him, yet so familiar. His face was swollen. His lip was split on the left side, and his left eye, his left eye was already starting to bruise, the discoloration of his eye tinged with an angry red. And it hurt so much. His clothes were no better. His shirt was torn, with blotches of red staining it in certain places. He was wet, scuffed with dirt, his shoe was missing and his bag was in the toilet. Mirai swallowed a sob as he turned on the faucet, letting his head fall into the sink, watching the red run into pink down the drain.

Leona turned one last corner, and here, here it was strongest, and steadily getting stronger. Leona inhaled through his nose deeply, and the smell assaulted his senses. Why could he smell it so heavily? Why could taste it so vividly, like he was able to drink it down like a fine wine? Leona closed his eyes as he followed his nose. He could feel its warmth, he could feel it as it passed through his teeth, as red washed over his tongue, as the blood dripped passed his lips and down his chin. He could smell a mixture of deep iron, rich, yet so light. But he couldn’t see its owner. He could smell dust, sand, lavender, lavender. Lavender!

Suddenly Leona could see that small room he kept as a junk closet. He could hear the clutter around the falling to the floor, the things inside shattering. He saw that mop of blonde hair, he saw those bony shoulders as his own hands grabbed them, pulling, then red. Red. Red. It filled his mouth, his nose, he felt the warmth. The warmth from Mirai.

It was Mirai’s blood.

Mirai was scrubbing his hands when the bathroom door burst open. “Ya missed the show, come back another time,” Mirai sneered, not bothering to look up from the sink.

“Oi! What happened?!”

Mirai snapped his head to the door, expecting to see Ace, or Deuce, even Professor Trein or Professor Crewel, but not Leona.

“Ya got mud in your ears? What happened?!”

“Wha-What are you, what are you doing here?” Mirai asked absently, “Where’s Grim? Did he send you?”

“What?! No! I haven’t even seen that furball!”

Mirai’s mind was everywhere for a second, before he promptly shut off the water, pushing past Leona to leave, “I gotta go. I need to find Grim.” 

“Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Where are you going?” Leona snapped, grabbing Mirai by the shoulder, but instantly regretted it as Mirai hissed in pain.

Mirai wrenched his arm away, fresh hot tears filling his eyes, “Ya got mud in your ears?” Mirai shouted, once again using Leona’s words against him, “I need to find Grim. They were after him too!”

Leona rolled his eyes, “That can wait, we need to get you to the infirmary.”

“No, it can’t wait. Grim he’s-he’s-”

“Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s-,” 

“I-I-I don’t nee-”

Leona sighed before hauling the Prefect into his arms, and began to make his way down the hall. “It’s furball we're talking about. He might always be startin’ trouble, but you and I both know he’d rather set the school ablaze, than be caught with his tail between his legs.”

Mirai seemed to shrink in on himself. He was still missing a shoe, his bag was in a wet heap on the bathroom floor, and his clothes were wet and dirty, yet, here Leona was, holding him like he was a newlywed princess.

“So Infirmary first, Grim second, and then you’re gonna tell me who did this and what happened.”

Mirai didn’t say anything, only nodding as he clutched onto his phone for dear life, trying to force away the flush that was already making its way onto his freckled cheeks. 

The Infirmary was empty, the nurse nowhere to be seen. Mirai’s heard of him, the other’s said he was a little too rough, and a bit of a quack, but Mirai’s never seen him. But that didn’t deter Leona from sitting the Ramshackle Prefect on one of the beds before turning to get some supplies. Mirai thought this scene was oddly familiar, well, maybe it was because he had watched it dozens of times in Anime and read it many times in Manga. Gosh, now Mirai was getting nervous. Leona rolled one of the stools and a medical table up to Mirai and sat down, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. Okay, now he really was nervous. 

“What?” Leona gruffed, raising an eyebrow.

“Whaddya gonna do?” Mirai asked skeptically. 

“Open heart surgery. Lie down,” Leona deadpanned.

“Leona, I’m serious.”

“What do you think Ima do, you idiot?! It’s just bandages and disinfectant! It ain't rocket science!”

Mirai quieted, turning his gaze away from the Beastman in front of him. Leona sucked his teeth in annoyance, but proceeded anyway. 

Leona started with gently pulling Mirai’s right hand into his left, the Perfect twitching slightly, but he didn’t pull away, his eyes trained on the world behind the window. Taking the cloth he had sitting in some hot water, and gently dabbed at his knuckles. Mirai whimpered, trying to pull his hand away, but Leona didn’t let him, tightening his grip in warning. Mirai shut his eyes tightly, still not looking his way, and relaxed his arm. Leona took that as his sign to continue. 

Leona dabbed at the cuts once more, watching the prefect's face closely, as he made sure they were clean and free of any residue. 

“This might sting a little,” Leona whispered as he went for the disinfectant. Mirai didn’t say anything as he shut his eyes once more.

Leona pressed down on the nozzle, the spray coating Mirai's fist, and the blonde immediately tensed up, his fingers clawing at the Beastman’s palm. 

“Why are you helping me?” Mirai muttered after the burning dulled a bit.

Leona scoffed, “Don’t needa reason.”

“But that’s just it,” Mirai growled, a sudden flash of anger burning beneath his skin, “you do! Every single one of you, do!”

Leona looked taken aback before his eyes narrowed, “So now I can’t be nice?”

“Since when are you just nice?” Mirai said, rolling his eyes, “There’s always something innit for you.”

“Yeah, I ain’t just nice, but I’m not about to let ya bleed on the bathroom floor.”

“Why not?”

“Because ’m not not heartless.”

Mirai huffed, looking back at the setting sun.

“Did it hurt,” Leona asked quietly as he taped up Mirai’s fingers.

“Don’t remember it” Mirai muttered quietly.

“What’s that ‘pposed ta mean?”

When Mirai didn’t answer, Leona sighed and went back to what he was doing.

Cleaning up the rest of Mirai’s arm was just like his hand, he’d tense and pull, but never said a word. But Leona knew the more difficult task would be his face. Leona stood up to replace the water, and get a new cloth, and when he got back, the Prefect was still looking out the window, his face void of any emotion. Leona distantly wondered if the Prefect was scared, or if he was tired. 

Sitting back down Leona stared at him for a bit, taking in the bruises and cuts on Mirai’s face. He didn’t look like himself, he didn’t look like the guy who’d take on the world all by himself, he didn’t look like the guy who would idiotically do anything you dared him, even if the reward was one corn chip. And yeah, Leona got that those weren’t really good qualities, but it was what made Mirai, Mirai. 

“Hey,” Leona said quietly, slowly reaching for Mirai’s face and turning it towards himself. “Look at me.”

Mirai wasn’t quite looking, he wasn’t quite there to begin with, and something akin to fury, fury and something else he couldn't name gnawed at the Beastman’s stomach. But what he did know is that when he found those guys, he’d tear them apart.

“Hey,” Leona called again, “any light’s on up there?”

Mirai flinched, wincing as Leona ran the cloth across his busted lip.

“Did it hurt?” Leona asked again. 

“Yeah,” Mirai mumbled. 

If the other was referring to his lip or the initial beating, they both didn’t know.

In the end Grim was okay, he was safe, and Mirai couldn’t be happier. Mirai got his shoe back, which he was grateful for, since they were his only pair, and as for his bag, it belongs to the trash now. The guys, who Mirai may or may not have instigated a fight with, were never identified, and five days later, Mirai’s phone was fixed, thanks to a little blue haired half student, and upon leaving for the day one morning, a new expensive school bag sat neatly in a cardboard box on his doorstep. 

 Mirai sat under the awning above Ramshackle’s door, watching the rain pelt the pavement below, thinking. The skies were a dark gray, the winds punishing and cold, but for some reason it was comforting. For the first time, it seemed that this world finally aligned with how Mirai was feeling, that it was finally on his side. 

Days passed, Mirai's face healed, his bruises healed, but something about Leona changed. A cigarette sat forgotten between red bitten lips as chipped black painted nails scratched at the healing scrapes on his knees, watching little beads of red bubble up from beneath his skin. Mirai sighed, pulling his shorts back over his knees, not caring if the hems stained. It wasn’t like he and Leona were friends, but something just, he didn’t know, shifted. 

The third year didn’t invite him to skip class anymore, he didn’t send him of stupid tasks like getting his lunch, and he didn’t crash in Ramshackle’s lounge anymore. He hadn’t even seen the man in passing, it was like he became a ghost, and it seemed he was the only one concerned about it. It was weird, but then again, it all was weird to begin with.

Mirai sighed deeply, watching the smoke become one with the clouds. He thought back to that afternoon, gosh, he could hardly remember most of it. Of course he remembers how he got there, and how it started. He remembers making Grim leave, he definitely remembers spitting in that jerk’s face, then getting punched, but after that, nothing. The next thing he remembers is being the floor, and the pain that followed. Maybe it was that, maybe after Leona had seen how pathetic he looked that day, he realized just how weak and useless he was and decided to cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” Mirai scoffed to himself. It was never like he was important to Leona anyways. It wasn’t like he ever had a chance. 

“Oi human!”

Mirai turned around and Grim stood behind him, his little paws crossed over his little nose.

“Yeah?” Mirai snickered.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Grim said, voice sounding nasally.

“Coming,” Mirai muttered, snuffing out his cigarette in the stone beside him. 

Picking up Grim, Mirai headed inside, shutting the front door behind him.

[drivemysoul]

“taylor you are so so beautiful and so so autistic please categorise taylor swift lyrics that correspond with kazuto and asuna’s relationship through every arc of sword art online”

thank you 😭😭 also thank you to everyone else who sent one i love y’all so much 🩷 okay i’m limiting myself to 3 per arc or i’ll be here for 20 hours because i have hours long playlists for each and every arc i love these two so so much

aincrad: “once upon a time the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned, you and i ended up in the same room at the same time, and the touch of a hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves to asses the equation of you, checkmate, i couldn’t lose” (i’m counting it as one lyric shush), “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” and “i’m perfectly fine, i live on my own, i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone, we met a few weeks ago, now you try on calling me baby like trying on clothes”

sugary days: “i want to drive away with you, i want your complications too, i want your dreary monday, wrap your arms around me baby boy”, “outside they’re pushing and shoving, you’re in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing” and “take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die, i don’t belong and my beloved neither do you”

fairy dance: “i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us”, “romeo save me, they’re trying to tell me how to feel, this love is difficult but it’s real” and “don’t say yes, run away now, i’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door, don’t wait or say a single vow, you need to hear me out and they said speak now”

phantom bullet: “i’d give my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me”, “when i was shipwrecked i thought of you, in the cracks of light i dreamed of you, it was real enough to get me through, i swear you were there” and “are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these, and let all your damage damage me, and carry your baggage up my street, and make me your future history?”

mother’s rosario: “you can’t talk to me when i’m like this, daring you to leave me just so i can try and scare you”, “no deal, the 1950’s shit they want from me, i just wanna stay in that lavender haze” and “i gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy, and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier, fighting in only your arms, frontlines don’t you ignore me, i’m the best thing at this party, and i wouldn’t marry me either”

ordinal scale: “i like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings”, “only bought this dress so you could take it off” and “give you the silence that only comes when two people understand eachother, family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother, is it enough?”

alicization: “i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side, my one and only, my lifeline”, “can i go where you go? can we always be this close forever and ever?” and “wherever you stray, i’ll follow”

war of underworld: “lord save me, my drug is my baby, i’ll be using for the rest of my life”, “i would’ve read your love letters every single night and prayed to god you’d be coming home alright, and you would’ve been fine, we would’ve been timeless” and “in the end in wonderland we both went mad”

moon cradle: “have i known you twenty seconds or twenty years?”, “i don’t wanna look at anything else now that i saw you, i don’t wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you” and “time breaks down your mind and body, don’t you let it touch your soul”

unital ring: “i’m gonna love you when our hair is turning grey, we’ll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we’ve made and you’ll say “oh my, we really were timeless””, “up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups, say you fancy me not fancy stuff, baby all at once this enough” and “i’ve loved you three summers now honey but i want them all”

[emeriethevalkyriegirl]

Totally Spies (Valkyries) Chapter 21

@sunshinebingo @aelinchocolatelover

“Bye Balthazar, see you on Monday!” Gwyn called out to her crush Balthazar as she walked out of the History classroom. School was over and today was Friday. Meaning she had the weekend to herself and her new best friends Nesta and Emerie. Normally, she’d be walking with Nesta and Emerie to the front of the school to wait for her aunt, but Emerie had to go to basketball practice and Nesta was tutoring with 4 other people for her er Science homework. Which meant that she was alone for today. Balthazar yelled ‘goodbye’ making the redhead blush from ear to ear. She was so glad that he couldn’t see her face.

As Gwyn made her way to the exit, she felt someone grab her by her shoulder and threw her against the lockers. Gwyn looked to see that the person who grabbed her was Jessica. “We need to talk,” she demanded, placing her hand on Gwyn’s chest. Not in a romantic way though. Gwyn matched the glare that Jessica was gazing her with. “Can’t this wait? I have to get home.” Jessica landed a punch to Gwyn’s gut. Gwyn made a grunt sound but didn’t falter. “No, it can’t. You’re gonna listen ponygirl and you’re gonna listen well. Got it?” Gwyn wanted to say no, but her habit of getting abused took over her.

Coughing a bit, Gwyn spoke. “Yes.” Jessica gave her a satisfying grin, but it was gone in a flash when she started talking. “My math teacher just told me that the answers she got from me were wrong. All wrong!”

Gwyn thought about what she meant. On Tuesday, Jessica came to her as usual demanding more of her homework to be done. Gwyn was about to decline until she got an idea. She would give her the answers to the math test. So, she did. But Gwyn found a loophole in her voice. Jessica told her that she wanted the answers to her homework. She never said anything about the answers being right. So, Gwyn did her homework as promised, giving her false answers. She didn’t have the same math class as her, but she bet that she had an embarrassing moment if the teacher read question 5 saying that the square root of 55 was ‘5 inches up your ass’.

Gwyn didn’t know she was smiling until Jessica gave her another punch. This time, to the face. “I knew you had something to do with that. Come on, answer me!” Jessica demanded. Gwyn stuck out her tongue. “What’s wrong Jessie? Sad that you’re not as smart as me?” Jessica, taken aback by Gwyn’s words, looked at her with even more anger than she had before. Gwyn took this opportunity to grab Jessica’s wrist and using her other hand, grip her shoulder and flipped her onto the ground.

Gwyn heard sounds of shock and excitement. She looked around her and noticed that more people had come, having already seen her flip Jessica to the ground. Gwyn felt something that she had never felt before. A sense of joy. A sense of strength. A sense of power. She felt fire burning in her veins. The kind of power that only people with courage can achieve. The kind of power that only comes when a person achieves something they never thought they could. That kind of power was pride.

And Gwyn loved it.

Jessica tried to stand up, but only managed to sit up straight. She grabbed her shoulder in pain. “She broke my wrist. She broke my wrist!” Gwyn couldn’t care less about what she thought. She rolled her eyes in disgust. “Stop being a baby Jessie, it’s just dislocated. It’s not like your bleeding or anything.”

“B-B-But it is!” Jessica cried out, tears streaming from her eyes. Gwyn looked around, expecting someone to help her. She even looked for someone who would punish her. But no one paid Jessica any attention. All eyes were on her. Fear crept up Gwyn’s spine, but she pushed it back. She hated Jessica more than she feared any punishment.

Gwyn noticed a boy that she had no name for pull out his phone. “Hey guys, it’s Jessie the baby,” he said, making everyone laugh. Then someone said it. Then another. 3 more. And soon, the whole circle of middle schoolers started to say it. Calling her, ‘Jessie the Baby! Jessie the Baby!’ Everyone’s phones were on Jessie. No one even glanced at Gwyn. But she didn’t care about that. Gwyn only focused on Jessica.

Realizing that her popularity was out the window, Jessica had begun to cry harder. “Stop it! Stop saying that! I’m not a baby!” Jessica tried to say but no one was able to hear her. Jessica looked back at Gwyn, the only middle schooler whose emotions were neutral. “She’s the baby. She’s the ponygirl.” No one paid attention to her. No one cared.

Gwyn looked at her fallen enemy. She smiled an evil smile and, just like everyone else, laughed.

---------------

The laughter didn’t stop there. The Prythian agency called them in for some more training. Since training will start late at night, the girls decided to finish any homework they had. During their breaks, they would talk about what happened at school today. Emerie and Nesta were laughing their asses off. “I can’t believe it actually worked!” Emerie said, trying to contain her laughter. “I can’t believe she thought she could get away with it,” Nesta added as Gwyn smiled with pride. She loved it when she finally stood up for herself. She never thought she’d be able to do it. But she did it. She actually did it.

So, why was there a small part of her that felt guilty?

“So, tell us the story again.” Emerie chimed in, petting Shadow who was lying next to her. Gwyn chuckled. “I already told you like 5 times.”

“I know but it’s always better whenever you tell it.” Emerie complimented as Gwyn blushed. Gwyn opened her mouth to speak when there was a knock on the door. The girls smiled. They knew who it was before they opened the door. “Come in,” Nesta called out as Tamlin walked inside.

“Hey Tam!” Emerie greeted as Tamlin gave her a small smile and a nod. “Nice to see you girls again.” he said as he looked at Gwyn and Nesta. However, we he got to Gwyn, he didn’t smile. Gwyn looked at him with confusion, but Tamlin spoke before she could ask what was wrong. “Cassian’s waiting in the training room.” he said as the girls got up from the floor. Giving Shadow one last rub to his ears, Gwyn and the others walked out of their dorm room with their workout equipment.

As they walked, Nesta and Emerie kept talking about Gwyn’s achievement, finally getting Jessica back for all the shit she put her through. Tamlin listened and nodded in agreement, but he never fixed his glance on Gwyn. Gwyn didn’t say anything about it and just ignored it. Once they’d made it to the training room, Tamlin stopped at the door. “This is where we part ways girls.” he said as the girls pouted. “Man, I hope training ends early.” Nesta said as Emerie nodded in agreement. Emerie and Nesta looked back at Gwyn waiting for her to follow them, but she held back. “I’ll come in later. Gimme a sec.” she said as her friends shrugged and walked inside.

When Gwyn closed the door behind them, she looked at Tamlin. Tamlin finally looked back at her with sadness. Gwyn, with confusion. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern flowing into her eyes now. Sighing, Tamlin rubbed his hand across his face. “Why did you do that?” he asked her randomly. “Huh?”

“To Jessica. Why did you do that to her?” Realizing he was talking about her enemy, Gwyn huffed and crossed her arms. “Because she’s a bully.”

“Didn’t seem like one to me. More like a sad little girl who just got embarrassed by everyone in the school.” Tamlin fired back as Gwyn frowned. What the hell was he talking about? Jessica doesn’t deserve her sympathy. Or anyone else’s for that matter. Gwyn glared. “She’s not a sad little girl. She’d a bully and that’s all she’ll ever be.”

Tamlin held his own glare at her. A few moments passed and neither of them looked anywhere else. “You really don’t understand, do you?” Tamlin finally said. Gwyn didn’t give him a response. That was enough for Tamlin to know that he was right. Sighing again, Tamlin turned away. “Gwyn, I know what it’s like to be bullied.” Shocked that this conversation was going somewhere, Gwyn dropped her glare and listened. “You remember the time when Cassian called me ‘Flower Boy?’”

“Yes?” Gwyn answered. Tamlin continued. “Well, he, Rhysand, Azriel, and pretty much everyone at the spy school called me that. All the time. And it hurt.” Tamlin sadly replied. Gwyn felt a pinch of sadness crawling up her spine. “When I got to the source of it, the guy that first called me that, I gave him a taste of my own medicine. But after that, I was ignored by pretty much everyone at school. They may have stopped calling me ‘Flower Boy’ but my reputation only got worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Gwyn told him, but Tamlin wasn’t finished. “You wanna know the worst part?” he asked. When Gwyn didn’t respond, Tamlin continued. “The boy who started it got bullied just like I did. Started calling him names too. Names that I’m not gonna say out loud.” Tamlin finished, wiping away a tear that Gwyn saw from the corner of his eye.

Even though she was sad, Gwyn was still unsure about why he was telling her all of this. As if sensing her question, Tamlin said, “Listen Gwyn I’m not gonna tell you to forgive that girl. But if you solve a problem like that with violence, you’ll become the one thing you hate the most. And that, is a bully.”

Gwyn flinched at that word, the guilt she felt from earlier rising at the back of her spine. “I...I don’t want to-” Tamlin placed his hand on her head, tapping it gently in a kind gesture. “Don’t think about it too much Gwyn. Like I said, you can forgive her whenever you’re ready.” Tamlin smiled a real smile. Gwyn smiled back but out of sadness.

Realizing that her friends were still waiting for her, Gwyn turned to the training room door. “Tam, I have to get going.” she said as Tamlin nodded in understanding. “I know. See you around Gwyn.” Tamlin replied before turning his heel and walking off.

[tellmegoodbye]

It's been a minute, huh?

College is kicking my ass (and I've been spending the past few Mondays offline for....spoiler reasons) but I'm returning today with a few tearjerkers. Thank you @paperstorm for tagging me!

---

Good Things Go - Linkin Park

Feels like it's rained in my head for a hundred days Stare in the mirror and I look for another face And I get so tired of putting out fires and making up lies Checking my eyes for some kinda light But nothing's inside and it Feels like it's rained in my head for a hundred days

And I say I hate you when I don't Push you when you get too close It's hard to laugh when I'm the joke But I can't do this on my Only you can save me from my lack of self-control Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go

This song, besides being one of the most beautiful Linkin Park songs out there, makes me think about pre-canon TK, especially in 3x08 but also generally. It also reminds me of s1 TK keeping Carlos at arm's length.

Starving To Be Empty - Dayseeker

I've been noticing my clothes fit A little bit looser Worried is an understatement When you don't have a future

I've been noticing my bones show a little bit clearer I don't recognize who I see Reflected in the mirror Thinner, I'm not bitter of the cards that I've been dealt I would give up everything to be somebody else Starved with no regard 'Cause I can go a little bit longer

Falling, I'm falling so far away Hold out your hand when I start to break Don't leave me all alone Skin deep, no one has to know

Try every night to swallow more than my pride But I'm starving to be empty I bite my tongue so I don't feed off your love 'Cause I'm starving to be empty

This song also reminds me of pre-canon TK and what it was like for him reaching rock bottom with his addiction.

Halo - Poppy

I was fine for a minute 'Til I remembered You were somewhere on a distant shore You left it as it was before

So wait it out The road is winding narrow It's all you have I know you can't turn back now I'll follow where your light goes 'Cause they don't know what we know

You're in a dream You're everybody's hero But it's you and me Still love you if the light goes out I could fix your halo Still, they don't know what we know The future's never gonna wait Every plan will have its place I could fix your halo They don't know what we know

This song has a lot of 5x05 and 5x08 vibes. The lyrics remind me of how this rift between TK and Carlos sort of stagnated and after so much time TK was learning to be okay with it, until the conflict with Jonah stirred everything up again. It isn't that they aren't making an effort, but Carlos is still lost, and their future remains in limbo.

"You were somewhere on a distant shore // You left it as it was before" is a perfect representation of the crushing realization TK has when he sees that Carlos may be stuck with these demons forever.

"I know you can't turn back now // I'll follow where your light goes." TK told Carlos he would leave a light on for him, and every day he does exactly TK sees that Carlos is stuck and is confronting the issue, but he still loves him to the end of the earth.

"The future's never gonna wait" TK says he's done living his life on pause, but Carlos is his life and he'd never dream of living it without him. He wants Carlos to see that he'll wait for him, but the world around them is still moving forward.

Tags!

@herefortarlos @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @heartstringsduet @literateowl

@carlos-tk @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @certifiedflower

@reyesstrand @ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @eclectic-sassycoweyes @bonheur-cafe

@firstprince-history-huh @freneticfloetry @reeeallygood @sweettkstrand @goodways

@nisbanisba @corsage @carlossreaders @henrygrass @morganaspendragonss

+ open tag

[the-firebird69]

this guy Joel Watts is the biggest loser in history. He's got this stupid look on his face what he really looks like is really awful he looks very dumb he won't admit any wrong at all He sunk his own ship and there's a dirty **** **** **** takes money from everyone as bribes and never does what you bribing to do and tells on you now you got enough of this total **** **** **** in our face he's telling on all of you you have to understand if he's involved your information is going all over so our son says I'm gonna drill holes in your head to help invent the borg Then they prove it and they're saying it put pins in there first then I drill holes. He's got a great idea to kidnap him as a woman in other words use techniques he uses to grab women. And it's a good idea we're gonna print

Thor

I have some words to say they wanna ask us then we kinda want them to it's kinda dangerous but not as dangerous as doing nothing.

Freya

The sea of writings and we understand it and I got some frustrating person I don't have anything new to say it's true i'm a one dimensional Weasel

trump

trump the coward fag who picks on me ahahah lol the only inventor and our son sys it. we use you up trump you shit. and yeh we kill off all yours for a moments peace. regroup get the next airhead who dares speak to us the way you do

Thor Freya

What you say everyday trouble is I have to hit you to stop you. So we have you hit and we stop you and you start up again this month you've been hit the 157 * and furthermore you're going to get hit today I'm hearing 10 from somebody then once in the head there's payback from Skarsgard and who's the one who captures you places you in the pyramid what's the phase one of Earth defense systems from what I gather smaller pyramids possibly put there by your friend who has you walking around with your teeny penis out and people want it as an orderve. You should really go somewhere else little pig are you gonna have getting stuck

Zues

Hera

i get it leave. will wear off a bit nope tried and im full of shit like to grow new brains. and no. i hear thaat. i help you figure it out no but tell you this is tommy f helping you and no your a nut case too and put me in the mental place and mroe. are a shithead and dont regard it with care. and you will leave trump and your bro tommy f...he says it i agree we are smoked need out.

joel watts

and wow what a talker no your a cheap whore joel. cheap. and mando you bite. badly. we hit you now

mac proper

and we use it your idiot shit trump he is a fighter you fall yell gt arrested and we fit yours up and take them down no hit yours fast now. tons do

mac daddy

he Is now in a downward spiral and is going faster and faster. soon that your tribe is they'll note your tribe is almost gone and they'll bite into that juicy center that everything got gathered up into don't find out it's not exactly empty. There's a lot of rumors going around about you being a **** they're serious nelson says what is the matter with these people you're putting up with a lot more than having problems because I'm someone different they don't like **** ****. It's true too nobody wants to hear this **** **** flying out of you This isn't my high school joel make a mistake here you're gonna pay you make hundreds of day not really the way to take someone down and we didn't learn it or memorize it we studied it we do understand you're the clown And you don't know what you're doing rebels hate you my son can't stand you your order to move by your people now there's a court case coming up and that case is important it's on Monday And what's going to happen is you are going to go to jail and start spewing when you are Charles Manson they did it to you and they interviewed you you look and sound like a rabid dog and they don't like you criminals like you are a dime a dozen what's gonna happen now is that the police are going to be at your door every chance that they get for your comments to them it's going to happen today tomorrow and for weeks they said and what we said was I don't think so and we started to block and then they started making you an **** and they've been doing that so we know what to do about it and it's just another thing you're trying to annoy him with like a little baby. And you know no embarrassment or humility but there's a lot of people who don't like you and want you off the ballot so this Monday because you're a baby responses they remember you are going to regret what you've been doing. Possibly you're very stupid they said they're going to put you in the hospital and they meant injury very badly it is going to start shortly that they're going to prep to do that to you and they're going to make it go there they want to see you while you're hiding and why it's such a big deal and they're going after you for secrets right now you're sitting there gloating that you see in one of his kids and you know it's his then you're gonna say it's yours then you're gonna say that the other girl came in then you're gonna say it's Lily and you go around and round and that's not good for you. Monday they're gonna start investigating you for real they wanna see what the hell this talk is about they wanna know where it goes and if you're not forthright they're going to haul you in and question you and your people and they said that today in a meeting and we happen and we happen to believe them. They need to know about New Zealand they get enough of you to attack it out of you but they need more if they get what they think it is they'll wipe you out.

Thor Freya

Olympus

[kindness-and-friends]

I have some too

Infintrix: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely.  Whisper, Willow, & Clover: Okay.  Infinitrix: If you don't want to die, give me all your money.  Whisper: Bold of you to assume I have money.  Willow: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die.  Clover: Bold of you to assume I can die.

Willow: Bye Whisper! Bye Deputy! Bye Basil! Bye Infinitrix! Bye Whisper!  Clover: You said ‘bye Whisper’ twice.  Willow: I like Whisper.

Willow: Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff.  Clover: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FRICKING STAIRS!

Clover: So, Willow and Blaze.  Clover: According to this, you two are being accused of: Armed Robbery, Vandalism, Drug Abuse, Grand Theft Auto…  Willow: We had a bad day.  Clover: And… MURDER?!  Blaze: It was a pretty bad day…

Willow: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

Willow: I'm gonna get my pilot's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses.  Clover: The big five licenses?  Willow: Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and… license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.

Willow, to Clover: I'd make fun of your height but there isn't enough to make fun of.

Clover: I assume you realize that this kind of idiocy will not be tolerated in this house.  Deputy: Is there any kind of idiocy you would be more comfortable with?

Willow: PEASANT. I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE.  Clover: You know there are other ways to say you want McDonalds.  Willow: FOUL PLEBEIAN. YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST ME—  Clover: *sigh* What do you want?  Willow: Chimken noggets please.

Clover: Deputy, are you drinking…. hydrogen peroxide?!  Deputy: It says H2O2! That means it’s the sequel to water!

Deputy: I was arrested for being too cool.  Purple: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Willow: I truly hate it here <3  Clover: Now replace “it” with “women”. Not so funny now, is it?  Deputy: Now replace “it” with “women”. Not so funny now, is women?  Infinitrix: Now replace “funny” with “women”. Not so women now, is funny?  Willow: I’m having a godamn stroke.  Purple Anon: Now replace “stroke” with “baby”. Congratulations!

Purple: Look guys, I need help.  Clover: Love help?  Deputy: Financial help?  Whisper: Emotional help?  Willow: Help moving a body?  *Everybody looks at Willow*  Willow: What?

Infinitrix: Willow! What did I tell you about lying?  Willow, looking down: ...That it only works on Clover.

Clover: Of course I have a lot of pent-up rage, you fool! I've been the same height since I was twelve!

Willow: You are a solid 11/10.  Clover: Aw, thank-  Willow: Which is 1.1 because you look like crap.

*The Squad is on a hike*  Whisper: It’s beautiful out here.  Clover: And quiet.  Willow: Too quiet.  Whisper: Did we lose someone?  *cut to Deputy with a bear in a headlock*

Deputy: My knee just cracked so loudly that I half expect it to glow in the dark tonight.

Anon: Go to hell!  Whisper: Oh! I’ve been there, thank you. I found it quite lovely.

Allie: Look, Sadie, it's the third time this week you had a mental breakdown and it’s Monday.

Infinitrix, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea?  Clover: Tea.  Infinitrix: Wrong. It's coffee.

Anon: What's the scariest horror movie you've ever watched?  Willow: IT.  Whisper: Annabelle.  Clover: Paranormal Activity.  Deputy: High School Musical. All throughout high school I was scared that everyone was gonna randomly get up and start singing and dancing, and I would be the only one who doesn't know the words.

Infinitrix: Stop setting things on fire because you're curious about what will happen. What will happen is fire.  Willow: But what if something else happens just this one time.

Ft: me, @infinitrix, @whisper-the-human, @thehumanofjustice @alliethesoulofvengeance and @the-sorrowful-one ONCE… @deputyclover @another-face-in-a-sea-of-purple and @a-purple-anon

Incorrect Quotes

Featuring @deputyclover @thehumanofjustice @whisper-the-human @kindness-and-friends @a-purple-anon & @infinitrix

Purple Anon: Three of the four elements are represented as types of hockey. Air hockey, ice hockey, and field hockey. Fire hockey needs to be a thing. Whisper: Fire hockey absolutely does NOT need to be a thing. Deputy: Do you care NOTHING for the balance of the four elements?!

Deputy: I was put on this earth to do one thing. Deputy: Luckily I forgot what it was so I can do whatever I want.

Purple Anon: Why were you up yesterday until 3am? Whisper: How did you know I was up until 3am? Infinitrix: We could hear you clapping to the FRIENDS intro every 25 minutes.

Purple Anon: The best person I know is myself.

Infinitrix: Breaking News, Justice has disappointed us.

Purple Anon: My life is a mess. Infinitrix: Purple Anon relax, go get a beer. Purple Anon: I don’t want a beer. Infinitrix: Who said it was for you?

Willow: Fine! I don't give a s---! Deputy: You seem to give a lot of s--- for someone who claims not to give a s---.

Justice, ordering Starbucks: Hey, I just got my heart broken, what do you recommend? Deputy, who’s running the drive thru: … Deputy: Tequila.

Infinitrix: You’re from Ohio, right? Purple Anon: Okay, first of all, my parents live in Ohio. Purple Anon: I live in the moment.

Whisper: You tricked me! Purple Anon: I deceived you. ‘Trick’ makes it sound like we have a friendly relationship.

Purple Anon: Kill him. Infinitrix: This is the kind of quality advice I look for.

Willow: What is your favourite mythical story? Purple Anon: The Story Of My Will To Live. Willow: I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.

Deputy, throwing a pokeball at Infinitrix: Infinitrix, I choose you! Infinitrix, not looking up from their book and catching it: You need an Ultra ball to catch this Legendary Pokémon.

[juhakx]

Stupid- Eric Sohn

Genre: Angst, fluff (stupid in love Eric), she/her pronouns mc, drugdealer!Eric (not a main plot point, just something you need to know)

Word Count: 1903

a/n: wrote this a long time ago. miss Eric. so i revived this.

Inspired by Stupid by Tate McRae 

It was stupid. 

The entire campus knew not to mess with him. And if they didn’t, the bruises and scars would throw them off sooner or later. 

Yet here he was, worrying what a random college sophomore in his history class was doing. Saying. Thinking. 

“What did you get?” She asks, a hopeful look on her face. Eric beat her last time. He knew that if he said he got a higher grade than her this time, she’ll start to doubt herself. He picked up on the littlest things about her. 

“It’s not looking good. A 94. What about you?” It was evident from the mirth in Eric’s eyes that he was up to something, but to someone like her, he always was. He keeps the paper reading 100 tightly in his grip underneath the desk. 

“96,” She grinned so brightly he swore it was blinding. It was stupid how stupid she made him. 

“Knucks,” He holds his fist out, waiting for her fist to bump his. Even on days when he knew he didn’t have to make runs, this was still the best part of his day. 

She bumps her fist against his, faintly mimicking the sounds Baymax does in Big Hero 6. Eric doesn’t think she notices she does it every single time, but it was one of his favorite things about her. 

There’s a faint, hopeful look in her eye, searching his face for something. Her eyes land on the scar resting on Eric’s cheek before wandering to the one on his lip. 

“See you Friday?” She asks. 

Eric opens his mouth but remembers the deal he had made with Sunwoo, promising him that he would accompany him to his runs for the day. 

“Why? Gonna miss me?” Eric deflects, the gleam in his eye quickly disappearing at the thought of not seeing her. It was stupid how he got himself into this mess, and now he can’t get out. He knew it was dangerous, but it was even more dangerous how his biggest fear is never getting to talk to her again. 

“Just a little,” She breathes out, a soft smile on her face. He’s sure that she will be the end of him. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” He really shouldn’t promise things he can’t be sure of. 

-

It was stupid. 

It was stupid how Eric could be lying on his death bed, and his number one worry would still be what she was doing.

It took him a week to recover this time. He knew what he was getting himself into when he started doing runs with Sunwoo. It was not enough. Not enough drugs, not enough money, not enough energy to argue. 

If Eric looked bad, the other guy went to hell and back. People always doubted with the way Eric was built that he couldn’t pack a punch, but he loved to prove people wrong. 

“You disappeared!” She says, sitting in the seat in front of Eric but immediately turning around to face him. She frowns at his appearance, causing Eric to lift his hood up and tighten the strings. He never wanted her to frown at him again. 

Eric remains silent, not knowing what to say. He hated how he lied to her. 

“Where did you go?” She asks nonchalantly, taking her things out of her bag. 

There’s no way she didn’t hear the rumors that circled around about him. Some of them true, some of them untrue. 

One way or another, she already made up her mind about what he was doing the past week and where he was.

“Y/N,” He warns, knowing she was edging into dangerous territory. She didn’t need to know the truth. The further she stayed away from the reality of Eric’s life, the better. 

“You disappeared for a whole week Eric,” She reiterates, frowning once again. “I had to sit next to Hyunjae the entire week. You know how he gets!”

Eric lets a smile slip out, something he found occurring more and more often with her. She made him so weak it was stupid. 

“And now,” She continues, fumbling with her pencil bag in her hand to get out her color-coordinated pens. It was always different shades of blue for history. “You’re a week behind on the FDR presidency. Do you know how important the FDR presidency is? No, you don’t! Why? Because you missed a whole week on it.” 

Eric laughs. He laughs for the first time in weeks. 

She narrows her eyes before huffing and turning around in her seat. Now, all he could see was the back of her head. He kicks the back leg of her chair, stifling another laugh when she doesn’t respond. He kicks again, causing her to finally turn back around. 

“Did you need something?”

“Teach me then,” Eric states. 

Her lips part in a moment of confusion. Though his words startle her, the wheels seem to turn in her head. She turns around with confidence, pulling something out of her pencil bag. Eric wants to question it, but he doesn’t. When she faces him again, there’s a sticky note in her hand. She passes it over. 

“My apartment. 5 pm. Tomorrow. You better show up,” She turns back around and doesn’t speak to him for the rest of class. 

-

He doesn’t show up. 

It was stupid because as he did his runs last night, he wasn’t at all worried about the altercations that could arise. Instead, he was worried about her. 

It’s understandable. The reason why she ignores him when she sees him next. He deserved it. And possibly, it was for the better. Things never worked out when Eric got close to other people. It would be better for her. Right?

It was stupid. 

But there he was, standing outside of the library doors and peering inside. He could see her from where he was standing. She was sitting alone, textbook in front of her and writing notes in the notebook beside her. She was using red, so it must have been math. She hated math. 

It was easy to find her. Once again, he’s glad his perceptiveness came in handy at times like this.

‘I only ever go to the library on Drag.’

‘Well, ‘cause it’s quiet there, but never too quiet.’

‘Yeah, Jacob, I’m going there afterward. I have a big test.’

Granted, he probably should not have been listening to the entirety of that conversation considering she was ignoring him. But, if there was anything Eric was good at, it was doing things he isn’t supposed to be. 

So, Eric makes a stupid decision. He makes his way over and hopes for the best. 

She looked pretty. Staring down at her textbook in confusion, her eyebrows furrowed and her knee bouncing up and down. 

“Can I sit here?” Eric’s voice breaks her out of her train of thought. Her face was stoic, and he couldn’t help but think about the fact that she normally smiled when she looked at him. 

She nods her head at the chair in front of her and goes back to her notes. Eric pulls out the chair and sits, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack. They don’t say anything for a while, and Eric just watches her. She was reading the textbook now, but Eric knew she wasn’t actually paying attention. Her eyes would scan the line, pause, and then scan the same line again instead of going on. 

“I’m sorry,” Eric finally says, leaning in closer. He wanted to make sure she could hear him. His eyes flicker between the textbook and her face, but she doesn’t look up at him. Instead, she continues to stare at the page that she’s been on for the entirety he had been here. 

It was stupid, but he takes a leap of faith and shuts the textbook in front of her. 

“I was reading that,” She mumbles, frowning. 

“We both know you weren’t.”

It goes silent for another moment. It was evident that she was avoiding any eye contact with him, which made Eric more upset than he could fathom. 

“Eric,” Her eyes dodged across the table as she came up with the right words to say. She was nervous. God, he hated that she was nervous. “I understand if you don’t want-” She stops herself, her frown deepening. 

She looks up, finally, and Eric can sense that he’s not going to like where this was going. 

“You don’t have to force a friendship with me. I understand if you don’t want to, but please,” Her eyes soften here, her words dissolving into a whisper. 

“Don’t give me false hope,” She pleads. “Please.” 

It was so stupid how those few words broke Eric’s heart when he could’ve sworn he couldn’t feel these kinds of emotions again. He wasn’t supposed to be capable of wanting something so bad, liking someone this much. 

It takes Eric too long to figure out what he wants to say. She must have made up her mind about where Eric stood because she reaches for her textbook, muttering a quick, “I should go.”

“I’m sorry,” Eric repeats, wishing he could just spill everything right here and now. Tell her how since their conversations started, he couldn’t get her off his mind. How in his dark world, she made it colorful. “I’m really fucking sorry. Those were never my intentions.”

The words sounded forced, his voice straining. Something must have come across correctly, though, because she pauses her movements. Her textbook was already in her backpack, a sign that if he didn’t say something quickly, she would be up and gone before he could even explain himself. 

“My life, I wish I could explain to you how complicated it is,” Eric breathes out. This time, it’s him who looks away, playing with his fingers that rested on the wooden library table. “I wanted to come, I really did. Even if I didn’t show up, I didn’t forget. It’s all I could think about. You’re-” all I can think about.

She doesn’t say anything, so Eric continues. 

“If anything, I understand if you don’t want to be friends. There’s so much I can’t tell you, that I wish I could. But, trust me when I say that you’re,” He breathes out. “Everything. And I’ll take anything you give me.”

He feels better. He tries to make it obvious, that way he can blame it on his words for where he wanted this to go. 

“I want to be friends,” She reassures. Her eyes soften again, and Eric can’t help but let a small smile peek out in relief. “I want to be whatever you’ll let me be,” She whispers. 

It was stupid, but he thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. 

It was so stupid. 

But he’s going to let himself be selfish. Just this once. 

“Go out with me.”

-

“Damn, FDR did all that?” Eric smiles up once she finishes telling him. The essay on his presidency was due last week, but she still insisted that she told him everything he missed.

“See how much you miss when you don’t show up to class and then bullshit your essays,” She shakes her head.  

She didn’t need to know that he already knew all this. Or that he got a 99 on the essay. Anything for her smile. 

It was stupid how in love he was. 

[elysianslove]

the little things ; haikyuu boys

synopsis; the little things he does that show just how much he loves you

pairings; karasuno x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, nekoma x reader, shiratorizawa x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; will make u hate being single <3

karasuno ━━

sugawara koshi; whenever your hair gets caught in anything, he’s so gentle yet quick at fixing it. if your hair is long, and you pull a bag or a shirt and your hair gets tucked in, he’ll wordlessly pull it out. if your hair is short and a bracelet or zipper gets caught he just continues whatever he was doing (talking to someone else for e.g.) while helping you out. also always makes sure your hair isn’t bothering you; if you’re leaning over writing something, he’ll always tuck it behind your ear so lovingly ahhh

daichi sawamura; massages. he’s descended from heaven for this purpose only. his hands are rough and like hard on your muscles, but it’s so perfect. he’ll approach you when you’re in school sitting anywhere, from behind, and just knead his hands into your muscles for a few seconds. euphoric. or if you live together, he always greets you with back/shoulder/neck massages in the bathtub hvjkwkd.

nishinoya yuu; always makes you try his food. always. whether it’s with a group of people or just you two, he just goes “hey babe open ur mouth” with this face 😏 bc he’s cheeky, and just shoves a mouthful of food. spoiler alert, it’s always way too hot. but it’s just tradition at this point. he takes a bite of his food, decides if it’s worthy enough for your mouth or not, then just. yeah.

kageyama tobio; buys you a snack whenever he gets his milk. if you’re special special, he’ll buy you your own carton of milk. he goes up to the vending machine and automatically thinks of you when he sees your fave snack, and it’s like mindless at this point he just routinely does it. it still surprises you to this day, even when he’s so nonchalant about it.

tsukishima kei; kisses your forehead. tsukki is not too big on pda, and even privately he’s not very touchy feely either tbh. but just a simple peck on your forehead grounds you, and it’s a small reminder of the fact that despite his outward coldness, he really does love you. he rarely does it in front of others, but sometimes, he’ll indulge both you and him, and settle a small kiss on your temple just randomly.

asahi azumane; anime jesus always has a hair tie/clip carried around for you on his wrist/in his pockets. i mean he’s always needing them, he just stocks up when he starts dating you. somehow he’s always there when you’re frustrated with your hair all over the place what a savior. later on it evolves to him carrying around your scrunchie and yes the boys make fun yes he blushes but no he does not take it off.

tanaka ryunosuke; carries you on his back, or your things, when you’re too tired to walk. whether that be if you’re too tired because of your heels or you’re just lazy, he just loves helping you out what a respectful gentleman. honestly it just becomes that every time he sees you he like barricades over to you so quick and flips you onto his shoulder or spins you around. anyways. walking with tanaka means walking empty handed bc he will never let you carry anything. ( shifts pile of bags on one arm just to hold your hand ).

hinata shoyo; learns hairstyles to try on you. whether it be short hair or long hair, expect his youtube search history to look a lot like “how to make a french braid” or “cute hairstyles for short hair for your cute girlfriend”. he’s always so entranced by you and watches so carefully whenever you do anything on your hair, and he gets do excited whenever you let him try and he gets it right. also !!! a lot of the times you’ll sit between his legs and he’ll just softly card his fingers through your hair or lightly braid it.

yamaguchi tadashi; buys you flowers a lot. he doesn’t overdo it, just so it doesn’t lose its value and worth. but for example, mondays suck ass and he knows how much you hate them, so he always makes sure to either leave a single rose on your desk/in your locker or give it to you himself if he can. it’s so endearing and motivating honestly, and the constant reminder every once in a while is so cute. continues to do it even like 3 years in, which is so fkn sweet honestly.

nekoma ━━

kuroo tetsurō; plans the best dates. seriously. like not one moment spent with him is dull. i don’t think being with kuroo entails a high energy relationship, i just mean that even a walk in the park is fun with him. he also always knows when to plan a fancy dinner and when it’s just something casual. like he always puts in so much effort, gives 120%, for every date with you. is your favorite band/singer/artist in town? he’s got tickets. the weather is amazing? you’re going to the beach. you’re sleep deprived? nap dates. 10/10

kozume kenma; he teaches you how to play his games. the fact that he’s letting you touch the console in itself says enough, but whenever he buys a new one, and learns it thoroughly enough, he will always sit by you and teach you its ways. picture you sitting in his lap while he guides your hands <333 if you’re not a gamer, he’s actually v flattered by the fact you’re willing to sit through this w him. but if you are a gamer, expect daily competitions. oh and if you beat him? you’re dead to him :).

haiba lev; instead of reaching for things that you’re too short for to grab it himself, he just lifts you up lmfao. i mean w the way he teases yaku, i can imagine he’d be v teasing with you as well if you’re even an inch shorter than him. but fret not! it’s all in the name of love. he’s very loving though, and if he sees you struggling he’ll just wordlessly hoist you up from your waist or something. at first it’s terrifying, but later on it just makes you giggle cause he’s like so willing to do it and it’s effortless for him hehe.

yaku morisuke; always makes sure you’re taking care of yourself, but kinda aggressively? lmao anyways. like he’s always “babe have u eaten” and if u say no expect him to start yelling like “what do you mean no??? are you insane???” v dramatic but honestly <333 he’s always texting you after parting ways “did you get home safe” or on weekends where he cant meet you, he’s asking how it was, if you indulged yourself a bit, relaxed. it’s very sweet and he makes sure it’s not overbearing. he just wants his baby to be healthy and happy.

yamamoto taketora; walks on the side with the cars. it’s not a very noticeable thing, but you see it, and you recognize it. he makes sure he’s always walking where cars are speeding by, a hand on the small of your back guiding you away and to the other side of him. it’s the little notions of protectiveness like if he’s driving and stops suddenly, he’ll put a hand out to keep you from lurching forward, he pushes you gently out of the way before you bump into someone. things like that.

aoba johsai ━━

oikawa tōru; he doodles in your notebooks, or on your skin. if you have class with him, and sit next to him, he’ll always be doodling on your notebook like little hearts or stupid, cute things like your initials + his in a heart. or if you’re at a study date together, and you’re focused on your laptop screen, he’ll leave little encouraging messages on your notes for you to notice when you’re revising. sometimes you’ll be sitting with him at lunch or even if you’re out w him and a bunch of other people, and he happens to have a pen. expect a little smiley face on your inner wrist, or a heart plus his initials ( o.t. )

iwaizumi hajime; he helps you take off your make up/takes it off for you. if you’re too sleepy, he’ll just take the products he’s used to seeing you use and start following it step by step after he props you up next to the sink. while he stands between your thighs he just so gently starts rubbing at your skin and washing away the make up. if you’re already asleep, he’ll have to like google the steps oh my god im gonna cry hes so cute. if you don’t necessarily wear make up, then he’ll just help you do your nightly routine, or even your shower routine, like using a body scrub or a face mask or, bruh, even shaving lmfao.

hanamaki takahiro; saves everything you buy/send/make him. i mean everything. has literally over two thousand photos of you, all the polaroids or postcards are saved in a little box he has under his bed. anything you make him (unless it’s edible) he has. if you make him a small embroidery thing he will literally attach it to his sports bag or something. any chain you make him is automatically added to his keychain. that flower crown you made with him on one of your first dates? he still has it. the flowers are dead but the memory loves babyyyy

matsukawa issei; carries extra clothes of his for you to borrow. hey have i mentioned that mattsun is big? 😃 because he is 😃. meaning regardless of your size or height or whatever, his clothes will drown you <3 i see him as preferring more oversized or just loose shirts rather than tight ones, so yk. on you???? if y’all are just hanging out and you even think about being slightly cold — here have five options of mattsun’s clothes to choose from. he always makes sure they smell like him too. it’s self indulgent really, because he loves the way they look on you, and he loves that it leaves a trace of his scent on you. territorial? i think yes.

fukurodani ━━

bokuto kōtarō; always hugs you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it, you need his hugs badly. y’all are gonna try and tell me bokuto doesn’t give the best fkn hugs??? yeah get outta here with that bs. he SO does. he either kneels down and wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and spins you around, like he hasn’t seen you in 3 years, or he’ll just wrap his arms around your neck and pull your head to his chest, cradling it, and just sighing like he won’t see you for the next 3 years. his hugs always make you feel so much better, even if you weren’t feeling down to begin with.  

akaashi keiji; plays with your hands and caresses them. it’s the delicate feel and gentleness of it all. akaashi’s generally an anxious person, leaving him very fidgety. but once you two get together, and he starts being comfortable with you, expect to find your hand always between the two of his, just fondling with him. he’ll trace random figurines on the back of your hand, or have his fingers ghost over your wrist and up to your fingertips. if his hands are especially shaky, expect him to just grab one of your yours and hold it tightly between the grasp of two of his. it conveys trust, and all you have to do is kiss his knuckles gently and he’s melting.

konoha akinori; he has your reminders app linked with his, and sneaks in small, motivating messages. every once in a while you’ll get a notification from the app that tells you to drink water or have a snack (or text konoha he’s bored and he misses you). also always sends you pictures to distract you from stress. like it could literally just be a picture of him smiling with a thumbs up and you’d just ,,, melt bc you love him so much.

shiratorizawa ━━

ushijima wakatoshi; he has so many plants that are named after you, or your nicknames, and he’s like so gentle with them too. like strokes their petals and speaks to them so softly, the same way he does with you. you’re honestly so curious how he hasn’t run out of names, but he’s just a genius like that. whenever you go over to his place, and he’s bought a new one, he’ll take your hand and guide you to where it’s growing and just be like “look it’s baby y/n” and you just 🥺🥺🥺

semi eita; he has a playlist on his phone, that’s constantly being updated, for you and him to listen to. the first time he showed it to you, you were stargazing and he took out his phone and headphones and was like “i made a playlist for you wanna list” and every part of your body lit up in flames im not joking. now, a lot of the times, you’re coming back home on a train, and your head is on his shoulder and you’re sharing headphones listening to the playlist. when either one of you is driving you’re blasting it (a lot of the playlist is the hsm soundtrack)

satori tendō; tendo reads people so well, and being in a relationship with him means he will read you so well. so a lot of the times, in social situations, he’ll recognize the signs of you wanting to leave, for example, or if someone’s bothering you, he’ll know exactly how to approach it too. this also entails having a lotta inside jokes hehe, and also just like. talking with your eyes. yk that thing. yeah. all you have to do is look at him a certain way, and he just knows exactly what you just said.

goshiki tsutomu; he buys the both of you this small plushie, and whenever you’re missing each other you just. squish it. and he squishes his. he would rather die than let anyone know this, but you’re not too keen on letting anyone know yourself tbh. it’s just this little thing you have, and it means a lot more to you than just this. when he first bought it he was like “look we have matching plushies” and you passed away on the spot ❤️

shirabu kenjirō; loves trying out new recipes with you. he’s not too big on cooking or baking, but there’s just something about doing it with you that really — hits the spot yk. nowadays, whenever he comes across a new recipe on social media that he thinks you’ll like he just automatically sends it to you like with no words no texts just the post and you’re like “OMG CAN WE DO THIS” and he’s like “why else would i send it. yes we can :)” hvskwkeke

end note;  thank you sm for the love on my last two posts!! i’m glad you guys enjoyed them sm. if you have any requests, they’re open and i’m happy to deliver, mwah!