#a bitch is about to develop a complex

[bismuthburnsblue]

does anyone have any professional plus size dress forms theyd recommend? im preferably looking for the style that has the start of legs, not one thats joined all the way down.

ill take any reccs regardless of budget but i am looking for something on the cheaper end (of the prices good, body accurate forms can be, anyway!)

(im uk based, if that makes a difference)

[oceanwithouthermoon]

maybe its just me but i cant stand when people are like "it just doesn't sit right with me how teruhashi thought about aiura 🥺" like yes... its not supposed to ??? because her thinking badly of other girls and prioritizing male validation over everything is one of her main flaws ??? can we talk about that WITHOUT making it seem like shes not allowed to have a single actual flaw without suddenly becoming an awful person? nobody can handle complex female characters at all and its so fucking annoying

[lucksea]

mid-canon design for Camembert btw. inspired by both the german Landsknecht of the renaissance era and the crusaders of the medieval era bc i liked the ribbon sleeves and also the marked tarp folded over and tied as a sort of tunic. idk if the tall leather boots are historic at all but theyre cool

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i could draw anything but i decided to draw this. carlo and rocco in 1932 aka my headache

[scientia-rex]

For the most part, my approach to prescribing hormones is “sure,” but I will note that the one thing I lean HARD on patients about is smoking. If you’re transgender, and you’re on hormones, the number one thing we want to protect is your cardiovascular health. That’s frankly the number one thing I want to protect in all my patients, but anyone taking exogenous hormones is at higher baseline risk. And the best thing you can do for your heart is DON’T SMOKE. It’s a bitch to quit, and I didn’t even smoke much or long before I quit in my late teens, and I STILL didn’t enjoy quitting and had smoking dreams for years. It’s harder to quit than just about anything else up to and including crack and heroin, and that’s coming from a patient of mine who recently passed in her early 60s who’d done all of those things—for years and years—but eventually was able to quit everything except smoking. And that killed her. She developed severe COPD and eventually called to say her blood oxygen saturation was dipping into the 70s, which is incompatible with life. She was lucid enough to decline medical care, including refusing to call 911 or go to the ER. A week later, after both I and one of our outreach nurses had contacted her to ask her to please go to the ER, I got a notification that she’d been found dead. She had been so frustrated that she wasn’t a candidate for a lung transplant.

One of my oldest trans patients is in her late 50s. She’s had blood clots that went to the lungs. Repeatedly. Smoking raises that risk. Estrogen raises that risk. She’s a veteran with PTSD; of course she smoked.

These aren’t theoretical. These are humans I’ve cared for over years of their lives. I have been rooting for them—my beloved former addict, who spoke without shame about her years of homelessness and drug use in the city; my queer elders, who are slowly trading in their motorcycles for power scooters. I want everyone to live their fullest, best life.

Smoking doesn’t fit into that. Please don’t smoke. I don’t want you to die like that—not now and not later. I want you to have the future that you may not be able to see yet, but exists.

Since I moved home as an out queer, word got out, and there’s a whole apartment complex of lesbians in their 60s to their 80s who come see me—sitting next to their wives in the office, nagging about blood pressure meds, tattling about not having gotten the shingles shot they said they would. To be clear, when I was growing up in town, I knew no lesbians. Not one. I knew one gay kid in my class, which eventually turned into two. We were it. To see these women living decades with their wives and being able to squabble like any couple in my office over who was supposed to bring their home blood pressure cuff in for us to check it… it means the world to me.

[sidsinning]

Surprising thing about Dandadan is Okarun randomly pulls different girls throughout the manga, but all of their feelings for him are not very deep (you could argue Aira, but I think her feelings were kinda insta-love which is then used as mostly a gag- kinda unsrs to watch)

-Aira is already obsessed with him the next time they meet

-Vamola is obsessed with him after a random kiss (then ends up being explained it was for plot and not real romantic feelings)

-Rin- what foundation, and her whole vampire attraction moment was literally a joke 😭🖐

But Momo's relationship with Jiji then later Unji are taken much more seriously with strong foundations for why they have feelings/might be growing feelings for her, while also feeling realistic and subtle

Like I'm sorry but this was cute and we have never gotten a such a significantly intimate moment like this from Okarun with any of Momo's love rivals 🖐

Zuma got a whole arc with her to himself like??? Insane you can tell when Yukinobu locks in for the love rival plots LOL

In exchange for Momo's outward very obvious bursts of hilarious jealousy we get more complex love rivals for Okarun to battle lmao, least that's how I see it

(By "more complex" I mean in regards to them as love rivals, all the characters are equally complex as just characters)

Okarun got game but Momo got GAME GAME like they sense her baddie wife energy

Momo is a total catch like she's literally MVP for almost all the fights in Dandadan, and the only times she isn't is when she literally isn't present- so I don't blame them 😌💅✨️✨️✨️

And ofc in the end all these people's feelings for our MCs are only there to develop their romance, bc they obviously only want each other

Sidenote ppl who are like "wow a pretty girl has to be paired with a nerdy loser guy again"

Bitch listen

First of all he has his ultra baddie form

Second of all he is devoted to the nth degree to Momo and only Momo, all his thoughts are consumed by her, and everything he does is for her happiness and safety

Like the way he got so fucking mad a dude was degrading her right in front of him??? The way Okarun was used to being pushed around and bullied for most of his school life but he threw hands with a rando immediately with no hesitation for her sake??? She wasn't even in the room to hear it??? A MAN

No Okarun slander shall be tolerated here ✋️

[thisaccountisagainstmywill]

But professionals do argue. So much. Professionals not arguing is like a non-professionals idea of what it is to be professional. Professionals have strong opinions on how things should be done and are so often stubborn in the way they were taught being the right way to do a thing. Taash, Davrin, Harding, and Lucanis should be arguing about how to tie knots and care for rope. A qunari ritual rope or treasure hunter's rope is going to be different from a monster hunter's rope and is going to be different from a scout's rope is going to be different from an assassin's scaling rope. Academics argue. Academics argue so much about the dumbest little pettiest things. Especially if you come from different academic foundations. They'll argue about the quality of chalk, paper, the way you take your notes, the way you cite your notes, the notebook binding you have for your notes, the way you store your notes, the way you clean your tools.... If it exists, an academic will find a way to argue about it, because half of being an academic is arguing and challenging how things are and why they should be that way. Emmrich and Bellara shouldn't necessarily be at each others throats but they should be challenging each other in a way that looks like fighting to people coming from outside of academic fields. Academics have a love language all their own in the form of arguing that makes you understand why sometimes you just have to throw hands at a conference.

Something something the reason the factions don't work in Veilguard even though they're functionally equivalent to the groups of people you have treaties with in DAO is because the factions are treated like A Job rather than A Culture

[uncookedfeeler]

CITRUS I🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 4k, light smut, incest,

Part 2

Parenting is one of life's most transformative experiences. It is a journey filled with joy, growth, challenges and the commitment to raise and guide another human being. From the moment a child is born into the world, parents find themselves on a rollercoaster ride of endless new experiences, emotional highs and lows, and unwavering love.

Parents are caregivers, teachers and coaches, constantly trying to decipher their child's needs and feelings. While the joys of parenting are many, the challenges can be daunting. From sleepless nights with a newborn to the complexities of teenage rebellion, each stage of a child's development brings its own set of hurdles.

After more than fifty years on this planet, half of them with your wife, you're lucky enough to have a 20-year-old girl as your child. From day one she has been the ray of sunshine that lights up your life. She is the person you love most and will remain your most precious treasure until your last breath. But your relationship has changed a lot over the years. Your little princess has gone from being Daddy's little girl to a gorgeous woman who has been driving a wedge between you since she was a teenager. 

This distance has increased since she became a famous idol and now lives between the dormitory and your house, although she only stays when she wants to. 

As usual, you come home from work late in the evening and enter the lock code to get into your house. Unlike before, the lights are still out and the house is deserted. You leave your keys on the hall stand and walk into the living room, closing the SAS door behind you.

You sigh as you walk through the living room to your bedroom, the room a bit messy with some of your dirty clothes from the night before still on the tripod, you sit down on your bed to remove your tie and finally free your neck, your suit disappears and you put on more relaxed clothes. At the same time, your phone rings and you see the name of one of your colleagues on the display:

"Sorry to call so late, hope I'm not disturbing you?" says a soft voice at the other end of the line.

"Not at all, Mrs Bae, I just got home, what can I do for you?" you reply, laughing.

"The CEO wants to see you in his office tomorrow, he came by earlier but you already left, he said he wants to talk about the last contract you secured". 

"Ahahah, the old man already knows it seems, ok ok, noted I'll meet him tomorrow, have a good night Ms.Bae".

"You too, Director"

You put your phone on the bed before returning to the kitchen to prepare your meal and pour yourself a well-deserved beer. With your face still in the fridge, you hear the front door open and a familiar voice echo through the room with a simple "I'm home, I'm tired! "

You immediately know who it is and reply, "Welcome my darling, good to see you home, how was your day, are you hungry?"

Without answering, you see a young woman with red hair jumping onto the sofa. 

"Yuna, please take off your shoes before entering the house, and at least take off your jacket, it's quite warm in the house," you begin to reproach your only child.

"Daddy, please don't start, I've already lost my mind today with the girls, leave me alone!" the young woman cries in obvious annoyance.

The routine is back and you make the effort to take off her shoes while she is lying on her stomach on the sofa, you notice her outfit for the day, a black leather jacket hiding a nice white t-shirt and beige trousers, so you take the opportunity to complicate your princess. 

"That's a nice outfit, darling."

"Thank you," she replies, blushing.

You put the shoes down in the hallway next to yours and see her already absorbed in her phone, so you try to get the conversation going again:

"What happened to make my little Yuna so upset?" you say.

"I'm not 13 anymore, Dad, you can call me by my first name".

"Ah ah, sorry, Yuna".

"Those bitches stole my concept for the shoot, we had to choose a fruit and we had matching colour outfits, during the pre-shoot meeting we agreed and as luck would have it today they used their "maknae shoot last" rule and took my fruit!!! "

"Please don't shout, so what happened after that?" you try to calm her down.

"What do you think, I got to the shoot and all that was left were shitty concepts, seriously, who the fuck thinks it's sexy to have a lemon in the middle of a t-shirt, they're going to laugh so hard at me for the pictures, I'm so ashamed, I left right after the shoot," she says as she stands up and faces you.

You can see the sadness in her eyes and you want to hug her and tell her that everything will be fine, but now that she's looking at you, you realise that she probably forgot to take off the famous shirt and with great regret you put a big smile on your face, almost on the verge of tears.

"No, darling, I'm sure it's a great shirt," you reply with difficulty.

"PAPA!!!, WHY ARE YOU SNIGGERING?" the young idol cries before following your eyes to her T-shirt, her face falling as she finally realises the reason, you're so sorry, but the situation is really too funny.

As you wipe your eyes you see your princess's blood red eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks and she slaps you hard in the face "I FUCKING HATE YOU, JUST FUCKING DIE YOU AND MOM" before running into her room, 

For the second time in your life you feel that pain, the pain you feel when you hurt someone you love, just like your wife did 7 years ago. 

The pain on your cheek is almost non-existent, unlike the pain in your heart. You admit that Yuna has become very withdrawn since your wife's departure, and that your clumsiness with her has hurt her before, but never to this extent.

On the one hand, your authority has been challenged once again, and for the first time she's dared to raise a hand to you. On the other hand, there is a deep sadness that hurts you, but also makes you deeply regret your actions.

You hear your daughter's cries through the door and, with a feeble step, you knock on the door before entering.

"Baby....i'm so sorry" you see her lying on her bed, her head in her pillow, her crying stops when she raises her head and looks at you, her face is turned upside down, her make-up has run down her face. Seeing your child like that tears your heart out, even though you're responsible.

"Just go, just go like Mum, you don't even like me, do you? I'm ashamed of you, go and die," she said in a cold, mean tone.

"Baby... "Hearing these words from your little princess hurts and brings tears to your eyes, so you get down on your knees to continue your apology.

"Forgive me," you tell her as your tears begin to fall, Yuna continues to reject you and her words only drive nails into your feelings, you've surely done the irreparable and you decide to get up and leave her room.

You have ruined your last family relationship with the person who meant the most to you. 

"I'll bring you dinner later, just rest," you say in an emotionless tone as you grab the door handle to leave.

Your steps towards the living room are slow and your body heavy, only to suddenly hear someone running behind you, the door slamming against the wall, and feel your sweet daughter's body against your back as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

"PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME SORRY," the red one cries with all her hot tears.

You drop to your knees and take your only child in your arms and hold her close, her head is under your chin as she buries herself in your neck, you stroke her head with one hand while the other pats her back, her arms struggle to wrap around your waist but she clings tightly to you.

"I'm sorry darling, I'm sorry for everything, just let it go now, Daddy's here, I won't leave you, ever"

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I love you"

"I love you too, sweetheart"

You stay like this for many minutes before you plant a loving kiss on her forehead, a sign of your unconditional love for her. She's your treasure and the most important woman in your life.

Yuna's red eyes shine into yours and the young idol plants her lips on yours, the sensation is sweet and pleasant, you are morally in a dilemma, never in a million years would you have imagined kissing your daughter like this, but on the other hand you tell yourself that she's probably had too much rejection for today and is just trying to express her love for me. 

You allow your daughter to express her desires and she wraps her arms around your neck as you hold her kiss, her tongue meets yours in a first dance, the heat in the corridor rises as her body crashes against yours, you feel her small breasts against your chest and her perfume floods your nostrils.

"Yu..na," you try to stop her, tapping her shoulder as she literally tries to eat your lips.

The young idol slowly pulls back, leaving a trickle of drool between your two mouths. You see an incredibly sexy woman, her hair a mess, her breathing heavy and hot, her hands on your chest burning and her eyes devouring you like a hungry tigress.

"The redhead doesn't know what to say when she realises what she's done, her face turning scarlet as she rests her forehead on your shoulder.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, are you tired?

She nods as you carry her to her room and tuck her into bed, one last kiss before sending your little princess off to dreamland.

"Good night, baby," you say to her as she seems to have gone far away.

.

.

.

The night was harder than expected, and after a light dinner you went to bed with your head still full of the events of the evening, a flurry of emotions running through your body and mind, and faster than you could have imagined, the morning light appeared through your window.

It's almost 7am and you're getting ready for a long day. As soon as you wake up, your body starts to show its age and it takes you a long time to get dressed and get out of your room and into the kitchen. You decide on a quick, simple breakfast of fried egg and rice, and with this morning's appointment, you'll be ready to go in no time, having filled up on vitamins for the day despite your fatigue. As you prepare this, you hear Yuna's bedroom door open and see your daughter come into the kitchen, still wearing her white T-shirt, but her beige trousers have been replaced by blue shorts.

"Morning dad," she says shyly.

"Hi honey, no schedule today?"

"Not this morning," she replies quickly, shaking her head.

Neither of you seem comfortable with the conversation and you do your best to avoid meeting her gaze and vice versa. You discreetly exchange glances and smiles, the redhead in front of you is beautiful and you find yourself ogling her.

You continue to prepare breakfast, making sure you have enough for your daughter. The only exchange you've had since is asking her if she wants a coffee, which she refuses. You see her hovering around the table as if she wants to talk, then she finally gets up and goes behind your back to the fridge.

Then you look back over your shoulder, feel Yuna's embrace around your waist as she buries her face in your back, feel the warmth of her breath again and put your hands on hers.

"Are you all right, darling?"

"I'm sorry dad, my head has been on fire since yesterday, my body has been on fire since I saw you this morning, I just wanted to tell you that I love you very much," she answers as she places kisses on your spine.

You feel the tenderness of her lips on your skin as Yuna gently lifts your work shirt, you say nothing, letting your daughter express her feelings as Yuna's gentle attacks send electric shocks down your back.

"Please look at me," she says as she forces you to turn around, pulling you by your hips until your bottom is resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, face to face with your daughter, who is staring at you for the first time this morning.

Her eyes were trembling and she asked you in a soft, frightened voice: "Tell me you love me, Daddy", while she pressed her body against yours. You felt her soft breasts against your chest and she put her hands on the back of your neck. Your daughter brings her lips to yours, her eyes closed, waiting for you to confirm your feelings.

At this point your morality as a father is the only obstacle standing in the way of this relationship, your daughter may not realise it but it is an immoral relationship waiting to happen, your daughter is still looking for a way to fill the hole in her heart, the love of her members doesn't seem to be working for her and now she is relying on you, her father, to give her what she needs, it is a difficult choice but you are letting yourself be swallowed by the devil, your daughter's happiness is what matters.

You cupped her cheek with one hand before pressing your lips to hers as Yuna melted under the pressure of her emotions, you rediscovered the sensation of love and laid your daughter on the counter while maintaining the kiss.

Your daughter is now sitting on the worktop, the difference in height bringing her face level with yours, she grabs the back of your hair to pull you towards her, her legs wrapped around your hips, your lips still locked as your tongues meet again.

When the seal is finally broken, both your breaths are heavy and noisy, each under the hypnosis of its own pleasure, while your eyes are full of sparkles and plunge into each other's. Your princess's eyes shed small tears, which you hastily wipe away with your finger before giving her a long kiss on the forehead.

Daddy, my heart is going to explode,' she says as she takes your hand to her breast with her t-shirt, the feeling is even better than you had imagined, her small breasts are firm and pleasant to touch, as you gently knead her breasts, the young woman makes little moans that express the pleasure she is receiving.

"Yuna... do you like what Daddy is doing?"

She nods "I want to feel your hand on my skin," she replies as she takes both your hands and places them under her t-shirt, right on her breasts.

"Do you like my lemons daddy? squeeze them hard please" Yuna's sexy face and her words echo in your brain as your hands work on her juicy fruit.

The tension in the room rises and you place your mouth on her little lemon, which you have been kneading for a few minutes, you attack her nipple with your tongue while you suck, hoping to suck something, you alternate your hands, now covered with little red spots, your daughter moans with pleasure and prevents you from withdrawing.

"Daddy, suck on them, play with my little lemons that you love so much, they're yours".

All this excitement had made you hot and a knot had formed in your trousers. Your lips left her two Susson-marked mounds and now attacked her defenceless neck, licking it from bottom to top, following her carotid artery and planting long kisses under her jaw, making her tremble before she gently pushed you away.

"Dad, let me take care of you too, I've been feeling your lump on my leg for a while now".

Your daughter begins to unbuckle your belt, then your trousers, until she can finally see your underpants and cock. Then your daughter puts her hand on the front of your briefs to rub your cock, and you see her other hand go down her shorts, probably to check the state of her briefs.

"I'm soaking wet, keep playing with my tits and come and touch me down there while I take care of you".

Your daughter's hand reaches through your shorts and grabs your cock to stroke it gently, on your side you slide one of your hands up her thigh to her panties and rub her slit directly against her skin, she's wet and you can feel a small bush above her entrance, you wiggle your fingers up and down, taking the opportunity to go back and kiss your princess who moans at your actions.

Yuna's technique isn't the best, but who can blame her, the poor thing is fighting against her own body and the way she arched her back as you delicately knocked on her pussy door, freeing her lips from your kiss, the young idol expressed with volume what she was feeling,

♥Hmm....♥Ah....Papa, continue ♥Hmm, ah....♥

Your daughter's moans are like music to your ears and she quickly lets you know that her orgasm is coming as your fingers begin to penetrate her pussy from the inside, you feel little spasms running down her body and her pussy dripping with wetness, as you pull your fingers out you see the deception in her eyes before devouring her with your mouth, forcing her to let go of your cock in the process. 

Your cock is extremely hard after Yuna's work but your pleasure is not your priority as your tongue slides up and down your daughter's slit, her juices are delicious and you suck them in to capture the taste of her naughty hole in your memory. Her grip on your thin hair is powerful and she blocks your head with her legs as you finally hear the release.

"Daddy, I'm going to come, it's happening, da..." before she can finish her own sentence, stopped by her pleasure, Yuna comes all over your now wet face and falls onto her back on the worktop.

"Are you OK, sweetie?" you ask her, a little worried as she suddenly falls backwards, the pressure of her legs freeing you and you see a close-up of your daughter lying on her back in front of you, her face red and wrung out, her hair falling in the air on the other side of the table, her breasts exposed and marked by your many hickeys and her pretty pink pussy that you've just finished devouring.

You grab both her hands and pull her towards you so that she's at your full height, then you take her in your arms as if you were comforting a small child.

"You're so hard daddy, you can do it if you want to," she says with a little hesitation and tired eyes, then you notice that your cock is at the same height as her pussy.

The choice seems obvious but at the same time you don't want to take it lightly and spoil the moment, the lack of time and place is not what you want to give your princess who is offering herself to you so you shake your head in refusal then plant a long kiss on her lips.

"Not now baby, another time," you reply as you start to pull away from her, only to feel her hand holding you back.

"At least let me make you feel better, I want to make you feel better too," she says as she grabs your cock and starts to jerk it like before.

"Do you like it when I rub your naughty cock? Why does a father turn on his daughter so much?" Yuna tries to be provocative to arouse you, but the tone is off and her lack of experience is glaring, you just smile under your daughter's true words.

Your orgasm builds as Yuna experiments with your cock, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible. You put your hands on her tits again and play with them, which doesn't seem to bother her, far from it.

.

.

"Daddy?"

.

.

"Yes, sweetie?

.

.

"You know ... if you want my lemons to give you their juice, you'll have to give me yours first," she said, pointing to her pussy.

The image crosses your mind, the image of a father and daughter kissing the fruit of their forbidden love, a father giving his love to his daughter and a daughter giving birth to that love, your excitement and shame explode as your cock comes to paint the lower part of your daughter's body, her pussy and thighs marked by your essence.

I'm sorry, I'll clean you up,' you say, looking for something to wipe your cum-filled daughter with.

"It's OK, I'll do it myself,' she says as she scoops up the white liquid and brings it to her mouth.

Any young man would have been revitalised to see such a beautiful woman collecting cum on her body, but your cock is now in a less than glorious state and you pull up your trousers, taking care to get dressed.

"It's almost time darling, I have to go," you tell her as you haven't eaten or slept well, it's going to be a long day.

"Wait," she replies as she approaches you, still naked, "don't forget my goodbye kiss," as she presses her lips hard against yours, then whispers, "we'll continue tonight, I love you.

Your body and mind may be in bad shape, but knowing your princess will be there for you tonight fills your heart with a feeling you've been missing.

Later, in your car on the way to work, you get a notification that someone you're following has just started a live stream, obviously it's Yuna, she's the only one you follow, you pick up the stream on the way, but enough to hear your daughter say

My favourite fruit? mhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question, I'll go with lemon, it's a sweet fruit like me and TMI, but my dad loves lemons'.

______________________________________________________________

[astuteology]

ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭ASTROLOGY NOTESִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭

● Scorpio venus- gets sexualized alot. Many people would fantasize about these people but will not let them know. MANYYYY have crushes on them.👀

● Capricorn + Scorpio placements- are either very naive and easily influenced/manipulated or the manipulator themselves. BUT the way their mind worksss.. ufff... they get shit done, they have solutions to e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. Can become a lawyer cuz mann you can't win against them. Everrrr.

● Capricorn/ aquarius or earth sign placements/degrees- you would rarely see them support astrology. They'll show interest if you're telling them everything good about their sign, as soon as you get to the negative part.... out the door🚶🏻‍♀️(although it's not always the case)

● In synastry if you have- venus square north node/ venus square saturn, venus square neptune, venus square uranus.... its not going to be a long lasting relationship. Cuz venus, the planet of love, is literally denied its main role. Degrees matter too, more than 5, can work. Less than 5, probably not.

● sagittarius placements- go from being fun and adventurous to being serious and mature. As the grow older, they start understanding life on a deeper level. Also, sagittarius placements are quite lucky (see where it is placed or where jupiter is placed.)

●Neptune/pluto/lilith/mars- on the ascendant, doesn't matter the aspect, GAIN ATTENTION WHEREVER THEY GO. People be turning their heads to look at you. You're random people's crush. And those who feel threatened by your presence, tries to spread false rumors about you or tell you that you're 'too bossy' 'too much' too this and that. They're just jealous cuz you got the IT factor in you and you not only gain everyone's attention but also their crushes 😌.

● Taurus placements- they have a very soothing voice. Their voice gain everyone's attention around them. Even if its noisy, as soon as a Taurus start saying something, everything gets quite. Its just the way they talk, they can have a deep or soft voice, but the way they speak is very beautiful.

● Libra placements- are superrrr nice. They're always there for you. They feel nice and happy when the people close to them are happy. Since libra is the sign of balance, they know when to be nice and when to be a bitch... so don't ever walk over them, You won't like it.

● I think aries and Capricorn placements- are the only placements that fear failure ALOT. Like ALOT. Even if they don't have a way, they'll make one. They have to do something, they can't just sit and relax, their soul won't let them.

● 12th house placements will know things beforehand due to overthinking. They would know if this friend of them is going to betray them. They start feeling uneasy somewhere in their body. With the 8th house placements, once they trust, they give their trust to you 100% and they usually gets backstabbed. Then they stop trusting people completely.

● Underdeveloped Scorpio placements- if your crush is a scorpio or has prominent scorpio placements, please stay away. They are usually involved with someone but keep it hidden. You won't know it until and unless they tell you, which they never. So its better to keep your heart safe than knowing at the end that they were involved with someone all this time.

● (in synastry) Underdeveloped scorpio venus and pisces venus- toxic, manipulative and narcissistic together. They talk shit about their close friends with each other. They turn against their friends. They develop, a kind of, superiority complex.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆Dark side of underdeveloped placements:

▪︎ Capricorns- rude af. Very mean for no reason. They think they are the main character. No honey you're just a bitch.

▪︎ scorpios- fucking cheaters. One person is not enough for them. Very toxic. Will body/slut shame you behind your back. Oh and secrets??? What are those? Now everyone knows them.

▪︎ Aries- can yall stop playing victim card and become more mature and responsible please? What's with yall crying and throwing a tantrum to get your point proven right? Ridiculous. Also stop guilt tripping people.

▪︎ taurus- why do you feel good when someone has less than you?? Why do you judge people when you yourself are negative.

▪︎ Gemini- yall try so fucking hard to get attention. Yall really dont get a hint that your crush doesn't wanna talk to you huh? You irritate alot of people around you. Very pick me energy with this. And no youre not know it all.

▪︎ Cancer- these bitches ruin 'THE CANCER' reputation. They go around lying about everything. Share someone else's secrets'. Puts blame on the other person.

▪︎ leo- yall need to be humbled very bad. Everything depends on your mood and self esteem huh? Yall throw people's past on their face in front of everyone when yall get pissed. Istg you feel better and satisfied when someone is put down in front of you.

▪︎ aquarius- please shut up with the false conclusions. Yall never accept your fault. You fuck up someone's mind then tell everyone they're crazy for acting like that.

▪︎ pisces- no not everyone is in love with you. Get out of your head please. Stop messing with people's feelings' and mind. Stop being avoidant. Stop being a bitch.

▪︎ virgo- DONT force your thoughts on someone else. Dont criticize them for having their own thoughts. Anyone can have different thoughts. And stop trying to subconsciously control people. You make people walk on egg shells.

▪︎libra- stop being 2 faced. Youre not everything a person desires.

▪︎ sagittarius- you make people fall for you then use them and throw away. Say it with me bitch...... people 🔪 are🔪 not🔪 for🔪 fun🔪. Also even if you have everything, yall still act like you got nothing. You dont help people. You only care about yourself.

—–- ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ––—

Thank you 🩷

[animentality]

It's amazing how Blue Lock, the soccer manga, does harem romance better than actual harem romance anime.

Like not even a joke.

Isagi is so good at rizzing up these motherfuckers, it's like a fucking art form.

It's like it moved up in difficulty level with each romantic casualty too.

First was Bachira, who was easy as hell because he's a friendly, but lonely ass guy, and he saw the potential in Isagi immediately.

Then it was Kunigami, who was also kinda easy, just pass to him, and he'll give you his meat.

Then it was Chigiri, who was a bit more of an ice princess, but Isagi melted him down pretty quick.

Then it was the slacker Nagi, who doesn't give a shit about anything, until Isagi shows him the way.

Then Isagi proceeds to seduce BAROU, a guy who literally hated his guts and didn't think anything of him. Now that bitch actually uses his name and wants to crush him and outright talks to him unprompted, which is NUTS.

And then it was RIN.

A guy who seemed literally impossible to rizz, due to his brother complex, but then Isagi and Rin teaming up for the U-20 match changed him.

And it's like...DAMN.

Harem romance wishes it was this good with build up and character development!

It's literally a sliding scale of difficulty.

Now Isagi just needs to seduce Kaiser, and then we can call him the god of charisma.

[bump-inthe-night]

Vivziepop is a “pick me” girl who pretends to be a feminist but actually despises other women. You can see her disdain for women in her writing and real-life behavior.

In Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, Vivziepop portrays women as tools who exist to provide emotional support for men, aiding in their development or serving as obstacles for them to overcome. Women only become relevant to the story when they involve a man; otherwise, she sidelines them and pushes them into the background. 

When Vivziepop portrays her women as evil, she treats them as irredeemable bitches without providing backstories to explain their behavior. She gives her men sad backstories to justify their actions and to add a crumb of complexity. However, even when Vivziepop’s men are one-dimensional monsters, she showers them with heavy love and favors them more than all of her women combined.

Women in Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are one-dimensional plot devices to push men’s stories further instead of actual characters with their own plotlines.

In real life, Vivziepop treats men better than women, like in her writing. Most of her victims are women who've either been friends or employees of hers. Vivziepop insults women and puts them down to feel better about herself. She looks down on women, which makes it easier for her to attack them than men. The only exception are trans men, whom Vivziepop believes are "self-hating women."

She can act like she’s a feminist all she wants, but it’s obvious she looks down on women and views them as dirt beneath her feet instead of her equals.

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Sukunaxreader smut, penetration, multiple positions, dominant Sukuna! , unprotected sex, pet names, Sexual theme, Adult theme, talking her through it, <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>

Authur's Note→ 18 and Under, GET TA STEPPIN! I know for sure this will be broken into parts, however I'm not sure how many parts will be to this. I just decided to get back into writing little dabbles here and there so I'm honestly just testing the waters with this. Slightly proofread (English is my first language, but even the baddest of Bitches still make mistakes! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I do hope you guys enjoy! 🤎

Synopsis: You’ve decided that you would begin your fitness journey. Accompanying your best friend, today’s the day where you’ll being taking working out and going to the gym seriously (well kind of). Lacking motivation and ready to go back home to lounge around to watch some TV and pig out, that all changes when suddenly you meet this drop dead gorgeous as hell man. Will he be the inspiration you need to continue your new lifestyle?

w.c» 2.1 K

“Sis, I love you I do, but the gym life isn’t meant for someone like me.” You panted out.

You weren’t sure why the sudden urge to accompany your best friend to the gym came about. Maybe it was because you were tired of always feeling burned out, sluggish and lazy. Possibly because you seen how fit, and fucking sexy, your best friend was getting after starting her fitness journey a while back. Whatever the reason, it went out the window the moment you set foot inside the gym complex with her and tried, very pathetically, to keep up with the routine she’d developed for herself. 

“Fuck this,” you thought, “I’d rather be home eating ice cream while watching Flavor of Love.” 

“See, that’s your problem right there. Rather be watching old TV shows and being lazy then getting your sexy on.” She fired back at you making you realize the last thought was actually out loud. You rolled your eyes playfully before glancing back over to her. 

 Both you and your best friend were on the treadmill walking at an incline with the speed up more that you would have liked. She was barely breaking a sweat, having gotten comfortable on the machine while jamming out to her workout playlist. She had on a two-piece workout set, showing off her toned stomach and big ass. You glanced around the gym, catching a few of the men every now and then peeking over at her, trying to get her attention. 

You on the other hand, you were barely making it. Panting like a dog in heat, your workout set you borrowed from her was sweated out, and your puff was starting to frizz out from all the sweating going on in your head. You could only imaged how you may have looked to everyone else inside the gym.

“C’mon Jade, I applaud you for your fitness journey but obviously I’m not ready, I should have at least started off slow so I could get used to it.” You whined out. She snorted out a laugh while throwing you a look. 

“Oh no ma’am, I tried to do that for you, but you were the one that said you could keep up.” She said as a matter of fact. All you could do was huff in annoyance at her response, because she was right. You figured anything she could do you would’ve been able to. You assumed it wouldn’t have been that bad, but you quickly seen the lie in that. 

“Whatever.” You mumbled as she smiled triumphantly, knowing she won the argument. 

“I’m not even tripping,” You began, “I’m about to get my unfit ass off this treadmill and head home, take a shower and be lazy.” You said determined. 

“Seriously Y/n? We’ve barely been here for forty-five minutes.” She looked at you with a judgemental look. You promised, no matter how much you might’ve complained, to see it through and finish the workout. But fuck that, Flavor of Love and a tube of ice cream was calling your ass. 

“Nah sis, I tap out. And there’s nothing or no one that’s gonna make me change my mi-”

“Uh excuse me miss?” 

You heard a deep, baritone voice sound off behind you. Startled, you whipped your head around to tell off the person for interrupting your monologue only to be stopped dead in your tracks with the sight before you. 

There stood a man, looking like the epitome of a gym God. You were met with a chiseled face, a smirk etched across his features. Sharp, bold crimson red eyes that stared down at you with a glint of amusement and playfulness. He graced you with his shirt off showing his toned washboard abs, littered with tattoos and sweat cascading down his torso, all the way down to his deep V-line. Gray gym shorts that hung dangerous low off his hips, not missing the way he was flexing his sculptured legs. Along with huge forearms that were decorated with dark line tattoos as well. 

In the mist of eye fucking the man, you briefly forgot you were on a moving treadmill, almost busting your ass in front of him and the whole gym. Before making a fool of yourself, he caught you just as you were about to fall off. Wrapping his huge forearms around your waist, securing you in place.

“Woah, you alright ma?” He asked. You looked up to his face, seeing his eyebrows furrow in concern. You also caught the sweat dripping, oh so deliciously off the tip of his nose, resisting the sudden urge to reach up and poke the tip of your tongue out to catch it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You thought to yourself.

You gulped as you stared into deep into his crimson eyes, becoming entranced by them. He shook you lightly to capture your attention again.

 “Hey, you sure you good?” He asked again. He wrapped his arms around you tighter while staring back into your eyes waiting on a response. 

“Y/n, girl say something.” Your best friend broke the silence. You gasped and looked down, becoming embarrassed by your actions.

“Oh yea, I’m good, thank you for catching me.” You answered timidly. 

Being plushed against his chest, you melted like puddy feeling the vibrations coming off from his deep chuckle at your response. 

“Good, wouldn’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you hurting herself.” He answered with a smirk. 

You looked up at him shocked, making his smirk deepen. 

“Maybe being at the gym wasn’t so bad.” You thought. 

“I hate to break up this lil’ love session, but we were in the middle of working out. While at least I was, my friend here was getting ready to lea-” Jade started before you cut her off abruptly. 

“Oh uh yea, I actually was about to get off the treadmill and head over to start on the stair master.” You found yourself saying, trying to give off the impression you come to the gym all the time. Without having to look back at your best friend you know she was giving you a “Bitch, are you serious” look into the back of your head, so much so it made your scalp start itching.

The man, still with his arms around you, let out a deep laugh this time. 

“Is that so ma? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you seem like you was struggling on this treadmill.” He said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. His response caught you off-guard while it made Jade throw her head back, cackling. Caught red handed, you chuckled lightly. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked, not realizing you placed your hands on-top of his forearms while standing comfortably in his embrace, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled down at your while unconsciously giving you a light squeeze. 

“Yea that and your panting, I could hear you over the speakers ma.” He joked causing your to groan in embarrassment. Despite the awkwardness of him catching you in a lie, you both stay in your current position, neither of you moving. Only deepening the stare you both were committed in. Your best friend looked between you and the mysterious man. Dispelling whatever magnetic charm you both had each other captivated in, Jade cleared her through signaling both of you to gaze in her direction. 

“Not trying to be rude or anything, but what exactly was your reasoning for coming over?” Jade got straight to the point. Even though she knew the answer to it. Despite your own thoughts over your appearance, you were drop dead gorgeous. From you bra-length natural hair, medium brown complexion, big doe eyes, plush lips and a curvaceous body, Stevie Wonder could even see how fine you were. You just had to get out of your head about your looks. But Jade knew that was easier said that done, otherwise you wouldn’t have forced yourself to accompany her to the gym. However seeing how transfixed you’ve become around this guy, she was more than glad that you did tag along. 

“Oh uh right, well I seen how hard of a time she was having with the treadmill, I just wanted to come over and suggest a few pointers.” The man stated. He wasn’t lying, that was part of his reason for coming over. The other part was to introduce himself to you. He noticed you the moment you and your best friend walked inside the gym and was immediately hooked. He knew without a doubt he wasn’t leaving this gym until he at least got your name, and hopefully your number. 

“Oh how sweet of you.” Jade said playfully when an idea popped inside of her mind. She threw a cheshire cat smile at the both of you before continuing her statement. 

“Seeing that you want to make sure Y/n is doing the workouts correctly, why don’t you guys start coming to the gym together.” She said with a glint in her eyes.

“If motivation is what you want”, Jade thought to herself, he’s definitely all the motivation you need Y/n.” 

You whipped your head around almost giving yourself whiplash, looking at your best friend as if she just lost her mind. From the looks of the guy, he took his workouts serious. You barely kept up with Jade, why in the hell did she think you would be able to keep up with him?

You were getting ready to shoot down the idea when he began talking. 

“I don’t mind ma, that’s if you’re up to it?” He asked hopeful. He was silently thanking your best friend for being his voluntary wingman in assisting a chance for him to see you again. You turned back to face him, meeting his hopeful stare and small smile, giving you all the push you needed to slowly nod your head yes at the proposal. His smile deepened as he squeezed you once more. Realizing you were still in his arms, his actions caused you to gasp slightly, making Jade chuckle at the interaction. 

“Cool, I work out pretty much everyday around eight at night, so whatever day works best for you ma, I’m available.” He stated as he looked down into your light brown, doe eyes. He couldn’t help but image how they would be closed slightly, hooded with lust as he pinned you under him while he thrusted deep ins-

“Sure, uhm how about this Wednesday night? That’ll work best.” You cut off his thoughts with your proposal. Coughing as he blushed from his vivid thoughts, he nodded in acknowledgement. Hell, you could’ve said to meet up on Mars at the eleventh hour to workout, he would’ve made damn sure to make it work just to be around you again. 

Sliding his arms from around your waist, you tried to hide the disappointed sigh that escaped from your lips, causing him to smirk lightly. 

“Alright ma, that’s a bet. Give me your number and I’ll text you later to make sure you don’t flake on me.” He joked. You rolled your eyes playfully and smacked your teeth, causing him to shoot his eyebrows up in amusement. 

“Oh she has a ‘lil attitude problem, I’m gonna have to set that straight.” He thought to himself. 

“Boy whatever.” You said as you tried hiding your smile. You reached out your hand, signaling for him to hand over his phone. You typed in your cell number and text yourself so you could go in later and put him into your contact list. Handing him back his phone, he let his hand intertwine with yours longer than it needed to be, sparking an electric jolt to course from your fingertips all the way over your body. 

“Cool, I’ll see you Wednesday ma.” He said with a small smile before turning away to walk back to the area he was working out at. You gave a small nod, about to turn back to Jade before realizing you never caught his name. In a hurry you called out to him to grab his attention. 

“Hey wait, I never got your name?” You said with a small pout. The action making his dick stir a little in his gray shorts. 

He looked you up and down before catching your gaze again with a smirk to his lips. 

“Sukuna.” He said with wink and turned to leave. 

You stayed hypnotized in the same spot he left you, watching his figure walk away before you heard your best friend behind you. 

“See you got your own Flavor of Love right here, didn’t even have to go home for it.” 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[carmenized-onions]

Don't Say It. | Closing Out

logline; just say it in every way but the one way that makes it weird.

[!!!] series history; did y'all notice the banner rebrands? tell me you think they look nice and good and cool or i'll. start crying.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. how is it more than 7 hours. my god.

portion; 14k was hoping we'd reenter our single digits era but we ball

possible allergies; two mentally ills battle it out (romantic).

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader almost certain there are gendered bits/pronouns but can't honestly completely remember.

(new!) kofi; I have one now! if you've enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!

moving into a new place literally in two days!! high stress. so thank you for waitin' as always pwease enjoy and pwease tell me what you think!

You take a good long breath, sitting on the counter in the bathroom. Right. Time is linear and you’re in New York again— Never left. Right. Carmen’s sitting across from you, it’s kind of a shock this floating sink counter hasn’t collapsed under the two of you yet. How long have you been here? Swapping stories took a long fucking time, and there’s still, disgustingly, a lot to unpack. 

“Any shoes left undropped?” You drum your hands against your knees, the question is as much for yourself as it is for him.

Carmen opts to open with a soft ball. “You called me Carmy?” Before you knew me, you called me Carmy?

“I called you a lot of things.”

“Like virgin Michelin Star chef?” He’s failing to hide the upturned corners of his mouth, when he says it. 

You snort and nod, “Like virgin Michelin Star chef, or Carmy, or Carm, or baby boy, baby bear, mister New York— Basically all Mikey’s, I think the only one I coined was Charmin.”

“Charmin?”

“Like the—” He finishes with you, “—Toilet paper bears.” and whether he should be or not, he cannot stop laughing, when you confess this. 

“I thought it was a good bit!” “Cause I’m a piece of shit?” “Bitch—Cause you clean up, and you’re a bear, and Carmen sounds like Charmin, and Charmin sounds like charming and I—”

You pause, cringing, parasocial relationship coming to a head now. When your best friend wants you to get with his hot talented brother living in the Big Apple, it’s hard not to fantasize about, alright? “...I found you very charming.”

God, it’s just far too easy for you to render him completely speechless. It’s really not fucking fair. Carmen looks like a deer in headlights, he looks how he did in your car, a month or so ago, when he bit the bullet and asked you out. Well, promised to ask you out. He swallows, no more glass in his throat, but it does feel a little scratchy, kinda like, like pop rocks?

Pop rocks, yeah. Sweet, salivating. “Do you still?”

You squint, like he’s a moron. He is. “Of course I do.” Cherry pop rocks. Yeah, that sort of spritz feeling, on the tongue, and the way it continues to simmer all the way down. “I don’t want you to stop being you, by the way, Carm.”

“Huh?” What’s that supposed to mean? Of course you want him to change, he sucks.

“I—” You’re quick to clarify, straightening your posture. “I think it’s great to— to do the work, and therapy and reading and self-care— That’s all— That’s very good, and you should do it— For you, not me, but I— One bad night is not how I’ll think of you— You’re— You’re not a bad person, is I guess all I’m trying to fuckin’ say.”

You’re sweet. Sweet but with depth, slowly developed, caramelized, tart. Maybe a fruity molasses.

Carmen swallows, it’s hard to digest the sweet. “I— I’m not a bad person, but I could be better.” Pomegranate molasses. It’s got an acidic kick. Sort of like balsamic.

“I could be better, too.” Could you? Please God, don’t try, he can’t compete. No, shit, hold on, stop pedestaling. “You kinda got my ass, with peoples’ princess.”

Carmen cringes, there’s the acid. “I should not have said—”

“I have a fucking saviour complex, Carm. And it’s just as bad for everyone else as it is for me.”

Bite, yet tender. You continue on. “I do need to work on that. And I should’ve explained more when we first met, it was just— You know… I know you know.” Medium rare, steak medallion— No— rectangle. 

Pomegranate molasses, thick—Nearly sorbet thick. Poured onto the plate, centered, perfect circle. Medium rare wagyu steak— A3, maybe; too much fat would ruin the composition. Rectangular, off center. Dust with cherry pop rocks. Bizarre, but it might actually be something. Bad, but something. Not tired or overdone, that’s for sure. Anything but dusty.

Carmen missed you for a lot of reasons this week, but it’s almost annoying how merely being in your presence for a few hours has given him more inspiration to work with than he has had in the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours, without you. But who’s counting?

It’s easy to make things, when they’re for you. When they’re about you.

“I should’ve listened, when you were ready, but I got defensive and—I— I do that a lot, clearly, I just—” Carmen tries not to bite at his nails and fingers, because his therapist, Sara, said not to do that. What the fuck does she know? A lot, actually.

“That’s just kinda how— we’d do things. Like that’s how we—” Carmen frowns, memories dawning on him. “…I guess maybe we never really talked.”

You don’t need to ask who we is. His family didn’t particularly set Carmen up for success. And every figure after his family didn’t really lighten the load. There’s not much for you to say or do beyond, “I like talking to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re allowed to still be mad at me.” Carmen reassures, he’s not sure why he feels the need to do so. “You can— You can tell me to go fuck myself.” 

You shake your head, shrugging. “You can tell me to go fuck myself.”

He shakes his head, immediately, squinting, like you’re a moron; you are. “I would never tell you to go fuck yourself.”

It’s a silent moment of exchanging hard stares and trying to glean something from the other. Once you gather your findings, you finally return to your era of speaking in sync again, with, “I don’t hate you.”

It's a hellish realization, that you thought it was possible, let alone certain, to hate you. He could cry again. “Why would you ever think I hate you?”

You raise your brows, because how could you not think Carmen hates you? “Because you said—”

“I didn’t mean a fucking word.”  He says it differently than he did before. Like it’s a final warning. He immediately recoils at his own voice and its aggression.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen scratches his nose, continuing for the both of you. What more can he say? He’s already said it a million times, so what’s one more? When you try to speak, he doesn’t let you. Because he knows you. He knows you’ll brush it off. “I don’t want you to forgive me, right now. I want to prove I earned it.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

“Yeah, Sara said that, too. You’re both wrong.”

“Yeah, I don’t think your therapist can be wrong, in this scenario.”

“Please.” Carmen props his knee up on the counter, his hands, in some way, mimic a prayer. He holds eye contact, he thanks whoever is in charge that you’re holding it again, too. “Let me earn it.”

Carmen will learn that he doesn’t need to earn anything or prove anything to anyone eventually. He’ll need more than six therapy sessions crammed in during his lunch breaks, for that. But right now, he needs to prove this. Needs to earn you. For now, you'll give it to him. For now, you just nod. 

Carmen chews his bottom lip, he doesn’t want to say it but he has to. “When I said—” You failed Mikey. “—What I said— I didn’t mean it how I said it.”

You bring your legs up, criss crossing them. “How’d you mean it?” How else could he possibly mean it?

“I meant it like— Like— Of course he died.”

They’re Berzatto men, they’re doomed. “Nothing you could have done would have stopped him from dying— And I— It hurt cause it felt like— In—In that moment— In my head—” He puts a hand up, pausing to reassure, “Nothing you did. But I felt like I was ‘Round Two’ for you. Charity. I—”

Carmen swallows, looking down, can’t meet your eyes for the moment, but he points at you. “You didn’t fail Mikey— He failed to know he was worth saving.”

A wound closes up, a little bit, somewhere in your head and heart.  “I think in some ways, I was trying to make up for something—”

You’re quick to clarify, too. “But not cause you’re you— Cause I’m me.” Have to do it all. Have to fix it all. Have to save it all. “Like— I think I might have that edge of paranoia for like, like a long time, if not… forever?”

 You frown; what a bleak idea. “Fuck, I may need to go back to therapy, too.”

“You want Sara’s card?” “Sliding scale?” “Sliding scale.” “Is it weird to have the same therapist?” “Probably.” “I’ll look into it.”

You both laugh, the weighted blanket of tension over you both is finally lifting. Carmen’s capable of looking you in the eyes again. “You did literally everything someone could think of.”

You kiss your teeth, you could’ve done a couple more things. “I mean, location—”

“He never would’ve given it to you.” “That’s exactly it, though— I should’ve put my foot down more. I was never as strict as I was supposed to be.” “But if you were strict he wouldn’t let you help him.” “Sponsors are meant to be strict.” “Then he wouldn’t’ve let you be his sponsor.” “Then I shouldn’t have been his sponsor!” “Then he would’ve never joined the program!” “Well—” “It’s not your fucking fault!”

Carmen doesn’t hate you, Carmen doesn’t think you killed his brother. Heavy exhale of too many emotions and a touch of relief. But you can see yourself in his expression. You can see Richie in his expression. The guilt. The haunting. You swallow, “Not yours, either.”

“I could’ve called more.” “He wouldn’t have answered.” “I could’ve realized why.” “And how exactly could you have done that?” “...I dunno, could’ve— Could’ve been the guy, for him.” “Carmen you were the guy, for him.”

Carmen shakes his head. “You were the guy, for Mikey.”

“I— Okay—” You click your tongue, this is hard to explain. You shift on the sink counter, trying to get more comfortable. You won’t. It’s a fucking sink. “I was the guy, but the guy to another guy isn’t much— you—” You snap your fingers, pointing at him. “You’re not the guy, Carmen. Never will be.”

“Ouch.”

“No— You’re something much more important than the guy. You’re— You’re the, the cat.”

He can’t help but smile, confused. He’s so used to bear comparisons. “I’m the cat?”

“You’re—” You keep pointing at him, thinking the metaphor in your head through. “...The guy is— Is like the host of the house party. He keeps the jokes going, the room light, the drinks and food stocked— He talks people through panic attacks while they sit in the bathtub, he loses at beer pong on purpose to make the other team feel better, the guy makes everyone feel like they’re the center of the universe.”

“And the cat?”

“The cat is upstairs, locked in his room, because the cat will get all jittery if he’s around all that yelling and all those people. The cat doesn’t even like those people. And the guy doesn’t want his cat to go through that. But then, when the guy finally gets all jittery and can’t handle all those people himself—” You sigh, honestly stressed by your own metaphor, thinking of all the moments in your life you needed the cat and didn’t call.

“He’ll go upstairs, to his room, and the cat will be there, and he can talk to the cat— Because the cat likes him. And nothing will be solved, but it’ll still feel good and the cat will still think his guy’s perfect and wonderful even when the guy is just— just him— And the cat asks literally nothing of the guy— Unlike everyone else downstairs— and that’s exactly why the guy wants to give the cat everything over anyone else.”

God, you’ve been talking about cats and guys too much. “Not everyone needs a cat, but the guys that do, really do. And you’re… You’re the cat— Mikey’s and mine.”

Carmen can’t say I love you, because that would be an insane response. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. But it’s the only thing he can think of. The only thing he can say besides that, is, “You’re very good to me.”

You’re not exclusively for Carmen, he knows that. You’re not made for him— You’re made for many things. But maybe you’re curated. The Bear wouldn’t exist without your advocacy. And it’s hard to believe, but there might’ve been even more broken shit at The Beef, if you hadn’t been there before Carmen got there. Mikey got to be your friend, before Carmen did. And you got to be Mikey’s friend, when Carmen didn’t. But you both kept him in mind, you told Mikey to text, you drew schematics for his restaurant, you said you’d talk to him. You thought he was charming. You still do. You’re Mikey’s pick, for Carmen. And it’s not like Mikey’s opinion matters that much, but it’s nice to have approval. Though he didn’t fucking ask for it.

“Such a cat response.” “Is that like being a Leo or some shit?” 

You both laugh. Ah, thank fuck, it’s you two, again. There’s a comfortable silence while you think for a second, before asking, “Can I add another thing to your non-negotiables?”

“Always.”

“I don’t want you to be different for me.” You think back to being in his kitchen, the way he tried to hold back, when you were around. “I get you, work you, home you— If you want me to be your fuckin’ mixologist, you’re gonna have to get comfortable working with me.”

“You still want to work for me?”

“I shook on it, didn’t I?”

He laughs through a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”

“Damn,” You snort, “Are you only with me for my skills?”

“No, I’m with you because you’re— You.” The kitchen needs you, The Bear needs you, Carmen needs you. He’s the cat, he doesn’t need anything more than you. He can work on his codependency issues in therapy, okay? “I— I like having you around.”

You readjust your posture again, it’s hard to get comfortable on a sink. “Well, you better get paid soon, then.”

“‘Bout that.” Boy came prepared. He rifles through the pockets of his black jeans, and pulls out a folded slip of paper. He does a yoga class worthy stretch to hand it to you, from across the sink. A paystub, from The Bear, to Carmen. Officially on fucking payroll.

Yeah, turns out, just a bad week, last week. Being in the red doesn’t last forever. Neither does being in the green. There are ebbs and flows. Next week will probably be shit, and yet the wheel still turns. Carmen also might’ve very well plugged in half of the numbers wrong, according to Sugar, when she eventually got to looking at it. But that’s neither here nor there. So he’s reactive. What’s new? Should’ve believed the you in his head, when she said there will be good and bad weeks. He’s still working on being the only voice in his head. But you’re a good replacement for the other guy, for now.

You stare at it, like an ancient scroll. It’s real. He’s really getting paid— Pretty decent too, he could finally buy some fucking furniture, with this. “Okay.” You look up from the slip to him. He looks like he’s on fucking Shark Tank, anxiously awaiting your approval. “And you’ll act like you?”

“I will act like me.” Even when he doesn’t want you to see it, Carmen will act like Carmen. 

And that’s all you could ask for, really. You’re about to approve the deal, but then you think again, frowning. “The Exec.”

“Ah.” Carmen shuts his eyes, embarrassed by his own brain. “I know.”

“So you thought about it?”

“I didn’t think about— It—” Carmen doubted his own conviction, because he doubts all of himself. But it really was not ever on the table, to give your number…That said— “I thought about loopholes.”

“Catfishing him?” You guess, and he affirms. “Catfishing him.” Hey, great minds think alike. Doesn’t make Carmen feel any less scummy, for considering abusing your likeness for sake of approval. 

“Did you go through with it?” 

It’s Carmen’s turn, to blink, slow to realize that you actually don’t know. “Richie didn’t tell you?” You still live in a world where Carmen isn’t completely batshit. 

You tilt your head, “Did Richie catfish him?”

“No, uhm—” He seems suddenly sheepish now. Can’t look you in the eyes, again. He nods and points to your pockets. “You got your phone?”

“Uh, yeah—” You pull it out, haven’t gotten any sudden creepshow texts, to your knowledge. “Should I be scared?”

Carmen shakes his head. “Nothin’ worse than what you’ve already seen.” He snaps his fingers at your phone, “Look up uh— I think it’s— Chicago Bear on Yankee Chef turf, or some shit.”

You have to take a moment, before typing, to just look at him with genuine pause. “...What?”

“Just do it.” “Did you kill someone?” “I do not have blood on my hands, the Tribune is just dramatic—” “The fucking Tribune?! Shut the fuck up, Carmy.”

Absolutely no way he’s in the Chicago Tribune.

Okay. Upon searching. Absolutely yes way he’s in the Chicago Tribune. Carmen’s trending on Twitter— Or rather, Chicago, The Bear, Bear, Carmy, Michelin Beef, Fuck the Yanks, and a million other keywords are trending— Local trending, but still trending. Chicago Tribune’s made an article archiving a handful of reaction tweets, summarizing whatever the fuck happened. Alright, this is taking too long, maybe you should just ask the man in front of you— “Oh my fucking God, there’s a video.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t watch—” Carmen is interrupted by his own voice coming through your phone. “—And what kind of fucking Chef doesn’t like black pepper? I’m white and overdone, but you’re an entire other goddamn beast—” “...That.”

It’s a screen recording of some patron’s Facebook Live at some New York restaurant David owns or whatever. Empire? That’s what the blurry signs in the video’s background seem to say. What’s his title at this point, anymore? Doesn’t matter.

It’s nice to see his blurry little face around ten to twenty feet from the camera get yelled at by a Carmen that is also many feet away, but his voice seems to be projecting throughout the whole restaurant; enough to be heard clearly through recording, anyways. “And it’d be enough to just be an asshole— But you’re a creep too— Never fuckin’ pray on my— my— bar staff, or I swear on my life—”

“Can’t make direct threats in New York, Cousin! Penal code!” You laugh when you hear Richie’s voice ringing out in the background. Thank God for whoever’s filming, because they pivot their phone to catch Richie, pretty much next to their table, calling out to Carmen. “It’s a fine!”

He looks tired but wired; they must’ve taken a pitstop here, before heading to the hotel. What a fun road trip finale. Richie is such a motherfucker for not telling you all of this first thing while you put on his cufflinks— This is not dirty details, this is front page shit! Literally! God, he buries the lead like it’s his fucking day job.

“Who gives a fuck about a fine? Everyone—” And back to Carmen. “This is David Fields, he’s the head of the head of the head, in their heads— He’s a fantastic chef, I don’t think he eats or sleeps or knows what another person’s hands feel like— He is fuckin’ brilliant at making the same three fuckin’ plates every fuckin’ day— With the most minute differences— And—And—And— He doesn’t even make them! He takes dishes from prozac riddled fucks like me, makes them worse and then puts his name on it! Unoriginal, a narcissist, and fucking bad at it!”

You don’t look up from your phone, eyes glued to the screen. “Holy fuck, Carmen.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” “Is this good marketing?” “Wait for it, I guess.” “...Are you actually on prozac?” “No. I kind of blacked out. Made a point though, right?” “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Sorry, miss. Could I—” …Fak? Guess he did third wheel on the road trip to New York. He grabs the streamer’s phone. There’s a ‘what the—fuckin— excuse me?’ from behind the camera as Fak pivots the recording to himself. 

“Hey World, I’m Neil, that’s my best friend Carmy the Bear, over there.”

“Jesus Christ.” You look up from your phone to Carm, who was at first embarrassed and is now just trying to hold a straight face, hand over his mouth. “I’m aware.” He repeats. 

You squint, thinking.“...Best friend?” “...I guess he is?” “That’s— Okay— I don’t— Alright, we’ll come back to that.” And return to your phone.

Fak continues, taking advantage of the sudden screen time. “He’s a really good Chef, knows his shit, if you ever want to see how he does it, please come eat— Dine— Dine with us at The Bear, we’re in Chicago— on North Orleans and Huron— You can— Can book with us at The Bear dot—”

“Don’t have the site yet.” Richie interrupts the impromptu ad, hovering over Fak’s shoulder, barely whispering. “Still The Beef.”

Neil nods and continues. “The Beef dot squarespace—”

“It’s Wix.” “It’s fucking Wix?” “Your problem isn’t with the lack of a domain?”

“It’s Google Sites, actually.” You correct for no one, really, looking up from your phone to Carmen, again. “I made him change it so it wouldn’t have that ugly freemium bar.” 

Carmen snorts, shaking his head. Of course you did. “D’you design it?”

You let out a loud, “Ha!” before turning back down to the screen. “I think web design might be the one trade I can’t do.” But you’re willing to learn, if he needs.

Ah, the videographer managed to foist her phone back, returning to catch the very end of the Carmen Show. And it’s a wonderful finale, from Carm.

“—Fuck your two elements, fuck your face— Fuck everything about you— I cannot believe we gave you service— Let alone our best— For a guy in hospitality, you have no fucking right treating my host and somme like that. Fuck you—”

“Fuck you—” Finally a response from David, though it’s quickly interrupted, as Carmen finally starts to back away, not wanting a genuine fight if he doesn’t have to do it, but he certainly wants the last word. “No, fuck you—”

“Fuck you.” “—Chef— Stay in your fucking city— Stay in your fucking city— New Yorks great! Stay in it! We don't play in Chicago— Fuck you!”

Carmen comes back to his road trip squad, he notices the woman recording, and walks up to the camera. For a second, you genuinely think he’s going to square up with her— You’re pretty sure he at least thought about it. “Is she recording?”

“Streaming.” Answers Fak. “It’s the new thing.”

 Carmy opts to use his words, possibly because he could maybe get arrested. “Sorry, sorry— I just want to make it clear—”

He gestures to the fucker in the background, bouncers seems to be approaching. Carmen keeps going, face red but calming down, chasing his own breath. “This man worked— and works with wonderful Chefs who I learned a lot under— And— And— I have all the respect for them, and always will— But-But— when it comes to David Fields specifically—”

Your cherry and lamb dish was perfect. David’s palate is just not worth appealing to. Carmen won’t make that mistake again.

“—What he serves is consistently vapid, dusty, and dead on arrival— like his heart— And—And— When you pay him, dine with him, work with him, you are lining the pockets of some fuckin’ creep that pulls rank on honest cooks and servers. So. Decide if you want that. And uhm— Uh— Tip your servers. Don’t ask for their numbers— Like he does. Be normal. Thank you.”

“Carmen Berzatto, folks! Come— Come to The Bear!” Yells out Neil, as security finally seems to be coming for the Chicagoans.

Richie grabs Fak by the back of his coat, knowing when to bounce, shouting, “No legal names! Godssake— This has been Carmichael Burrowski, folks! Don’t call no one—!”

The screen recording ends, not long after that. You’re going to need maybe a… fifty minute nap, to process that. Maybe, somehow, this is good publicity— Maybe in some way, this is putting The Bear on the center stage. But one thing is fact, Carmen completely abandoned the idea of keeping appearances and getting a star through kissing ass. He completely abandoned the idea of being appealing to the man in his head. 

And he did that for you— And Richie— Which, honestly, makes it mean even more. Carmen’s a good boss. Not always. Definitely not always. But when it fucking counts, he is. Carmen's a good man. A good friend. A good not-quite boyfriend. Ugh, boyfriend? What kind of word is ‘boyfriend’? That's fucked.

You put your phone away, quietly nodding and thinking, not looking at Carmen. You shrug, attempting to be nonchalant. “Contract and I’ll be your mixologist.”

“Yeah?” There’s such a brightness, to the way Carmen asks. Like a spritz. “Okay. I’ll— I’ll send you a Docusign.” Aperol spritz. There’s more to it, than that though. 

You’re so zoned out, looking at the sinks instead of Carmen, he starts to get worried. He just got eye contact back, come on. Was the yelling too much in the video? He was loud and mean. He always is. He told you not to watch. 

“Tony?” What kind of bitters suit him? A slice of grapefruit might be nice. Bright but acquired.

“Are you good?”

“Wha—” You shake your head out of it, turning your gaze to Carmen. He jumped off the counter to stand by you. His hand hovers by your head— He considers grazing your hair, and chickens out. But he can’t put it down.  “Sorry, was— I was uh— Just thinking of what we could put on a cocktail menu, that’s all.” Yeah, that’s all.

“Don’t work on it, without me.” It’s with a, dare you say, panicked quickness, that he requests this. “Cocktail menu, coffee menu, we should— Should do R and D, together.”

“Yeah, f’sure.” Fucking Chefs, so particular about their menus. “I think it’d be good to uhm— Build it around the main menu, anyways. Sorta match stuff up.” Thankfully, you like particular.

He really needs to not be standing this close, though. Your brain keeps zoning in and out— It’s really not the time to be feeling any sort of type of way about Carmen cursing out that fucking chef and going to therapy for himself and you and he smells nice and he’s reading books and he worked bar all night with you and he looks so nice in bartender black in lieu of his Chef whites and he is trying so hard and— And you cannot say you love him because that would be weird. That would be weird and bad and too soon and stupid. 

And you can’t forgive him either— Well, not aloud, because Carmen wants to prove that he’s done the work— Wants to prove that he’s going to keep doing the work. He’s rendered you with nearly zero options here, to show your affection. 

“Yeah, that’s— That’d be good. I was thinkin’ we’d put your station by Marcus.” Why is he still talking about work? He’s so stupid. He’s wonderful. This is the worst. This is hell. “Coffee machine’s already there, and you’ll tend to share a lot of elements, anyway— I think.”

You shift your butt on the counter, turning to face him head on, he’s just slightly between your knees as your legs dangle off the counter. “Carmen.”

“Yeah?” “I’m going to kiss you.” “Yeah, okay.”

Light, nervous, sweet, lifting, soft— A delicate kick to it. Pink peppercorn bitters. That’s it.

Aperol— Vibrantly orange liqueur, derived from bitter rhubarb. It’s an acquired taste. Some say it’s citrusy and herbal, others say it tastes like cough syrup. Either way, it’s awakening. Then prosecco. A splash of soda— Lemon-lime would be best. Aperol spritz. It’s an Italian cocktail. It sparkles. Everything in it fizzes, almost competing with each other. It’s meant to be enjoyed before dinner. It’s refreshing. Pink peppercorns and grapefruit would only add to that brightness, that light. It’s not for everyone, but it is everything to some. That’s Carmen. That’s your Carmen. Oh, maybe a syrup on the rim?

You try to be delicate, the way you put the palm of your hand on the back of his head and pull him in, but it’s just not possible. It’s the first time in a fucking month you’ve initiated— It's been one-hundred and sixty-eight hours since you've seen his face, let alone touched it— It’s just not possible to be kind.

Thankfully, based on the way he’s leaning you back on the counter, hands on your waist, it doesn’t seem like Carmen wants kind. There's a sigh of relief, to just kiss you. He’s fine with the touch of hair pulling, on your part— Possibly more than fine. Possibly way more than fine. The faint whining and pulling your hips to his seem to indicate it’s a lot fucking more than fine.

It would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon to say I love you, but you can mouth the words against him and he can’t tell what you’re wording but at least you know. It’s funny that he can do the same to you, and despite knowing the trick, you can’t tell either. 

Carmen pulls back, just a centimeter, or two. He wants to say something. He’s opening his mouth to say something. He's all dopey and half-lidded. Man, he’s pretty. He knows that right? Yeah, he knows that. “You’re so pretty.” You tell him anyway, speaking into his half open mouth. 

Whatever thought he had, it’s dead now.“—Jesus fucking Christ.” He moves his hands to hold your face. It’s nice. It’s nice to get peppered with kisses— Yeah, pink pepper fits perfectly with him. 

Carm’s voice is heavier now. Maybe from the lack of oxygen. He’s fighting to revive his brain. He’s so serious, when he firmly kisses you, forehead against yours, lips still grazing, saying, “I’m not a fucking virgin.”

You laugh way too fucking hard for his ego. Your hands untangle from his hair, but your arms continue to rest on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s still amped, too bad you’re you, and you have to ruin the mood to poke at him.

“That a recent development?” “Shut the fuck up—” “I’m just wondering, if he was accurate at the time—” “Why are you doing this to me?” “Did you have a tantric affair in Denmark, the people wanna know!” “I— There was no time, alright? It got away from me—” “Remember when you had your first kind of girlfriend like a month and a week ago?” “It was a recent development, okay?” “Darn. Sorry I was late.”

He pauses the banter to just stare at you, take in your features, take in that you’re here and real and half underneath him. “Not forgiven.” You should’ve shown up sooner. You should’ve injected yourself so completely in Carmen’s life eons ago, and made yourself intrinsically impossible to remove. Absolutely not forgiven, for being late.

“Yeah?” Your eyes upturn, deeply amused. Carmen really is the baby brother. Entitled, bratty, cute. You’re planning to say something coy, something playful like ‘Ohoho, how do I earn your forgiveness?’ But you remember something Carmen said, when he was summarizing his Friday night for you— And for Carmen, what you opt to say is so much worse than hot banter, for his brain. 

“I don’t think your mouth tastes bad.” It’s your turn to take in his face and all its features. “I think it’s nice. It’s like the only way I can try cigarettes without getting a headache.”

“I wanna fly you to Paris.” It’s so quick, from Carmen. Choked quick— Like he fought to hold it down but you’ve just opened the Pandora’s box that is his mouth. He keeps going. Your surprised face firmly smushed in his hands.  

“I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since I asked you to run bar— I’ve— I’ve wanted to take you to Paris since you washed my hair— I—I—” Too much affection to contain in words, he has to kiss you, and then he has to keep going, and then kiss you between the ‘ands’, and then keep going. Like a shot and a chaser and a shot and a chaser and a—

“I want you to be permanent and carved in my tables and I want you to wear my jackets and I want you in my kitchen and in my menu and in every dumb fucking conversation I have at Christmas tellin’ family what the fuck I’m doing— I want you in every sentence.”

It’s not ‘I love you’. Because saying I love you would be weird and bad and stupid and too soon. But it might very well be more than that. Trying to avoid saying it might be forcing you both to say something that means more than that.

It’s hard to generate a response as poignant as that. Especially because your cognitive abilities seem to have gone completely offline. Your brain is telling you to kill the moment so you don’t have to face the feeling, telling you to say something stupid like, ‘Why Paris?’, because if you don't, you might say it. But you can’t. You’re totally speechless. 

Eventually, you manage to choke out, “I would like that.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ah, a smile from Carmen with teeth. What a rare gift you’ve been bestowed. He tries to celebrate this occasion with another kiss that will inevitably lead to a million more but when he goes for his classic move of sticking his head in the crook of your neck to bite you like a cannibal— You get the chance to look somewhere other than Carmen’s face, and realize you are both still very much so in a fucking bathroom at a fucking wedding in New York. 

“Fak is still outside, I’m pretty sure.”

Carmen groans, there’s no way you’re doing this to him again, come on, neither of you have to go this time, you have all the time in the world, in this bathroom. Time isn’t real here. That’s how bathrooms work. “He’s not.”

“Carmy’s right, I’m not.” Says definitely totally not Fak, behind the door. “You guys kissin’ yet?”

“Christ.” You put a hand on Carm’s chest, pushing him back from you as you push yourself up with your other hand. “Mood dead.”

“No—” He grabs your wrist, holding your hand in place against him. “Mood not dead— Mood present and alive—”

There’s some fumbling behind the door. “Wait— Are they?” Oh, so Richie’s here, too? Good. That’s great. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way— Cousin, be a gentleman—”

Carmen leans over and all but screams into your shoulder. “I am being a fuckin’ gentleman, Richard!”

You kiss your teeth, shaking your head, shrugging. “Yeah, it’s dead.” Them’s the breaks. 

A slow, heavy, arduous exhale, from Carmen, coming up to lean his forehead to yours for a second. Enjoying the liminal space before it’s permanently ripped out of your hands. “I hate my family.”

You smile, pressing your forehead firmer against his, nuzzling noses. “You love your family.”

“I love my family.” He sighs. He gives you one last kiss, soft, sweet, perfect. “Thank you for taking care of them.” 

You shrug. “They’re mine, too.”

God, you’re so quick and mind-bending, he has to go for another kiss, come the fuck on— “Mood’s dead.” You laugh, so cruel, jumping off the counter, maneuvering past Carmen, but you’re sweet— Cruel but sweet— Carefully switching his hold on your wrist to holding your hand, dragging him with you. 

You might be leaving the bathroom together, but Carmen’s pretty sure a part of him is going to stay there, like a ghost of a feeling, for the rest of time.

“Okay— Is everyone waiting to piss?” Is your first question, for the crowd awaiting you and Carmy outside the bathroom. Not strangers, though—Well, mostly not strangers. Richie, Syd, Fak, some guy that looks like Fak. There’s no way they all need to piss, there were three other bathrooms available, it's not like you were hogging. “Is fuckin’ anyone runnin’ bar right now?”

“Marcus is.” Syd answers, hurriedly, as she runs up on you, immediately enveloping you— Practically an attack. It’s not in her nature to hug, but you’ve forced her hand here. Carmen hasn’t even exited the doorway behind you yet before you’re stumbling back into him from the force of her. 

“Squ—”

The words come out of her like a flood, no spacing between the words. “I’m-sorry-I—  We-finished-serving-and-listened-in-on-everything-super-invasive-couldn’t-help-it— You should’ve called me.”

This— These motherfuckers. Oh well, saves you the trip to Denny’s. And frankly, you would hate to re-explain all that. You return the hug with your free hand, the other one still in Carmen’s. You put your chin on her shoulder. “I know.”

There were so many times where you could’ve just gone upstairs. So many times you could’ve just called your old cat. Should’ve just called Syd. She would have been there. Maybe that’s exactly why you didn’t call. 

“I should’ve called you.” Maybe that’s exactly why Syd never called her guy, when she needed you, too. 

“Well,” You pull her back by her shoulders, “We will next time.”

You can’t let the moment stay sincere for long though, shit-eating grin growing on your face, “You’d give up a star for me?” Nuzzling your face into Syd’s cheek as she desperately tries to get away from you now— Oh how the tables turn.

“Get fucked—” “You love me— I’m all you got, Syd? Woww—” “After my dad I said! After my dad!” “A single widdle tear from me isn’t worth a star?” “It was not widdle— Little— Fuck—”

“This is cute princesses but everyone get the fuck out of the way before I clog an artery.” Richie unnecessarily shoves his way between the Faks to get to you. 

You release Syd to face the man, pensive, waiting for a slap, honestly. Richie just looks at you, now that he’s in front of you he’s dumbfounded, awkward. He knows he wants to say something or wants you to say something but neither of you know what that is. What it should be.

Before he can figure it out, you do. “I should’ve told you.” Besides your therapist, Carmen is the only person you told about the phone call— Well, intentionally, that is. 

That doesn’t really seem to be the thing he cares about. He’s not going to slap you, and you don’t need to grovel. “Am I dead, to you?”

Your brows furrow, for a second. “Wha—”

Richie grabs your free hand, pressing it to his neck. “Check my pulse, am I dead, t’you?”

“First of all, wrong placement.” You have to wiggle your hand out of his grip to take his pulse correctly. “It’s under the chin, align it with your eye—”

“Do I have one?” “Yes, Richie, you have a pulse.” “So I’m not dead?” “You’re not dead—” “Then call me.”

When your breath hitches, he continues. “I’m not a ghost. I’m here. When shit happens, you call me.”

“I know.” Is the only thing you can say without your voice cracking. “I will call next time.”

“You will fucking call, next time.” Richie grabs your face, smushed in his hands. “And you’ll answer my calls, next time.” He forces you to nod— Not that you wouldn’t, but wants to make sure. “Am I heard?”

“You're heard.”

Richie can see over your head, so he barks at Carmen, who’s very innocently behind you, still holding your hand. “Get your weird little hands off my Chip, you perv—”

“I don’t have weird little hands—” 

Syd pipes in, squinting. “Why is that the thing you refute—”

“Why does God let these moments happen to me?” You grumble, words muffled with your face still compacted by Richie’s hands. 

“I think it’s beautiful, actually.” Says some guy that looks like Fak. You just stare at him with your partially forced closed eyes. “Just the vibes, so— like— tender.”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” You deadpan, pointing at Other Fak. “Has this guy just learned shit I haven’t even told my own father?”

“We definitely just got here.” Lies Fak, next to Other Fak. He continues, “We didn’t hear anything about the really sad way you both actually did attend the funeral but didn’t—”

Other Fak astutely interrupts to add, sniffing. “But if we did it’d be like, like really meaningful that you both like, did that.” Is he tearing up? Richie needs to check your pulse, are you dying?

“Everyone please back the fuck up?” Carmen sighs, behind you, then beside you, letting go of your hand to put it on your shoulder. “Like maybe give two solitary fuckin’ seconds?”

There’s a stuttering of apologies as everyone realizes yeah, maybe a bit much to immediately jump you. Richie drops your face, everyone takes a step back.

You keep staring at Other Fak. Squinting, you point to him. “Ted?” Guy who they called instead of you?

He nods, “Hi—”

“No.” You wave your hand in front of his face, cutting him off. You turn to Carmen, just shaking your head plainly. “No.”

“Heard.”

“Y’know how going to a different barber is like cheating—?”

“No, like I got it—”

“This is like times a thousand—”

“I am hearing the note—”

“Fak can— Neil can fix shit, I took his spot, it’s fair— Outsourcing someone though—?”

“Won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.”

“It was— Should I have called you back in?”

“No, you should have had a broken light until we talked it out or let it be broken for the rest of your life.” There is not much you could ever find yourself getting genuinely jealous about— This, however, is a knife to the heart. Another handyman is a child out of wedlock, practically.

“Heard.”

“I spent way too long stalking you.” Interrupts Syd, she’s looking at her phone, a jumble of aggravated misspelled texts coming from the work group chat. “Fuck, I’ve gotta help Tina with clean up— We’ll—” She sticks a hand out, you reach out and hold it, for a moment. “You’re still— We’re still sharing, right?”

You tilt your head, confused, oh— “I’m still gonna sleep in our room, Syd. You weird pervert.”

Syd lets go of your hand, shaking her own hands around her head, talking just as fast as she speed walks away to the kitchen. “I am not a weird pervert, I’m sexually normal, don’t be weird, goodbye! Love you, fuck you, see you later!”

Richie claps his hands, “We’re closing out, so I’ve gotta go pick up vases or some shit— Faks, c’mon—”

“Y’know we’re just regular guests, right?” Says Ted. They let Fak come on the road trip despite not doing a job? Medals of Valor need to be doled out.

“Pbbt, come the fuck on, here boy.” Richie starts to walk off, and the whistling is condescending, but they listen anyway. Rich looks over his shoulder, snapping his fingers at Carmen. “Probationary forgiveness.”

Carmen nods, “Thank you, Chef.”

“Dee-Dee’s here, by the way.”

Carmen’s relaxed posture immediately pulls into a taught physique, he’s considering chasing Richie to get more details. “Isn’t Sug here, too?”

“Yessir!”

“Have they—” “They got grouped at the same table. Unc and Stevie have been keepin’ the peace.” “How’s that going?”

“Your guess is as good as mine!” And with that Richie fades into the crowd of straggling guests and clean up crews. 

You don’t know much about Donna, which was a very intentional choice on Mikey’s part. And that kinda tells you all you need to know. You turn to Carmen, pensive. “You wanna go find out?”

He itches at his collar, thinking. “I think if I say I don’t, I’m a bad son.”

“You didn’t ask to be her son.”

“Oh, fuck, okay.” He stumbles for a second, you immediately cover your mouth. 

“Sorry! I just—” Inside thought got outside. “I just meant— That was a lot. It’s just like, I dunno, you can’t be bad at something you never opted in for, y’know?”

“No, yeah, that— That’s kind of… a good thought.” He nods, looking at the ground, swallowing the words. “I— I should be a good brother—and—and Uncle, at least. Say hi to Nat.”

You don’t start walking until he starts walking, intent to follow his lead. You’ll stroll casually, until they crop up, making no deliberate effort to find them. You’re both silently hoping you don't. Carmen brings his head back up to you. “You ever meet Mom—? Donna?”

You shake your head, “No, that was kinda one of our few red lines. For Mikey and me. He’d like—” You gesture with your hands as you explain. “He’d talk about her, and I saw like… photos of them from babyhood, but I never met her or heard details— Never like, came over to the house. It was just kinda like a silent agreement. Hard for him and hard for me with the whole— Uh—”

“Drinking thing.”

You nod. “It’s uh— I’m not easily triggered anymore, though, so I think I’m fine.”

Carmen sniffs, scratching his nose. “Well, if you end up not being fine, we can not— Like not talk to her.”

He’s sweet, he’s smart, he’s the cat. You nod. “You don’t have to talk to her either, y’know. Could just text Nat—” “She’s right there.”

You whip your head up in tandem with him saying, “Don’t look fas— Fuck.”

You put the back of your hand on Carm’s chest, you both stop walking. “That’s Dee-Dee?”

“Yeah, with the—the leopard print belt and the floral dress.” Carmen’s been growing meeker with each step. You’d think his biggest fear is clashing patterns. This is not the same bear in the Chicago Tribune. “Why, you— You do know her?”

“She looks fuckin’ familiar…” You kiss your teeth, trying to roll back in your memory— Come on, you don’t forget shit, where is she from? You’ve seen photos but those were blurry and she was so much younger. You remember this version of Donna, you remember her from somewhere.

“Fuckin’ — Something with Pete— I saw her with Pete— Nat’s husband—” You point to him, across from Donna, at the table. “Him, yeah.”

“Just them?” Carmen gently pulls your arm down, you’ve gotta remember your manners.

“Yeah, I was— Oh, I was—” You squint. “Did Donna come to your opening?”

“No, she was invited, but she didn’t show.”

“Okay— So, she did, actually.” “Huh—?”

“She was— She was outside, when you were in the walk-in.” You nod to yourself, still thinking through the memory. “Yeah, she was outside— I thought Pete was like her son— It looked like they were fighting or crying so I just kinda— Kinda let it be. You were locked in a fucking freezer so I chose my battles.”

“Oh.” Carmen nods, trying to make it seem normal in his head. It’s not. And he can’t seem to force it. “He definitely didn’t tell Nat.” Because Nat would’ve told him.

You hum, rocking on your heels. “Yeah there's no chance we're going to go say hi now, is there?”

“Yeah, that might be best.”

You fold your lips in a line, still staring at Donna, she looks normal, which makes it feel even less normal. Way too much to unpack, if you go over there. Instead, you’ll stand here in the middle of the banquet hall, and unpack the carry-on luggage, so to speak. “Christmas is in a week.”

It’s a freight train of realization, Carmen drags his hand down his face. “Fuck me.”

“I know.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

You frown, turning your head to him, not wanting to say what you’re going to say. “Do you think she’ll plan anything?” First Christmas without Mikey. Will she have the willpower to plan something, like she usually does?

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I know.”

Carmen holds his hand over his mouth, words somewhat muffled. “I’ll ask Nat, see what she’s doing. Baby’s first Christmas, or whatever. That’s a thing, right?”

“Baby’s do traditionally experience time, yeah.” “You n’ that smart mou—”

Despite staring at their table, the two of you did not notice Natalie approaching you, baby Michaela swaddled in her arms. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen normal human beings that aren’t screaming or shitting constantly in so long— Please— Say something normal and fun.”

You pucker your lips, trying to come up with something. “Ah— Fuck, I can’t think of anything— Oh fuck, sorry I said fuck— God— I’m just gonna stop talking.”

Nat lifts her hand up for a moment to wave you off before re-supporting her baby. “No! No, don’t! Say fuck so much. Say it all the time. She can’t understand, she doesn’t care. I wish I was her.”

“Will do.” You just nod, holding a hand up to Michaela, waving. She grabs one of your fingers, holding on tight. You can’t help but coo. “Hey, baby! Have you been fuckin’ with your mom’s sleep schedule? Awe, yes you have! Yes you have!”

Nat laughs and hums, “Richie told me you used to babysit Eva.” 

“He’s exaggerating.” You leave your hand with Michaela, but look up to Nat. “There were just some weekends he was working and daycare wasn’t running so I’d take her around the city for a couple hours— More like playdates than actual babysitting.”

“That just sounds like you’re a fun babysitter.” Carmen rebukes, Nat nods. 

“I’m good when you only need a second.” You sigh, half taking the compliment. You glance over Nat’s fatigued face. “You need a second?”

“Yes, fuck, could you?” In the same breath, she’s handing you baby Michaela. “She has in fact been fucking with mommy’s sleep schedule— And no one tells you— ‘mommy strength’ or whatever, needs to be developed— My lats— I think they’re lats? Are insane now. Just from holding her!”

You bounce the baby in your arms, sidling her on your hip. She’s a grabber, that’s for sure. Grabbing your hair, your top, Mikey’s chip— No longer tucked under your clothes. You let her. Well— Not the hair— She could cut off her circulation— Relax, EMS. You’re off duty. “How’s it going with—”

Nat knows what you’re asking before you finish the question. “Better than normal, which makes it feel worse. Does that make sense?”

You nod, “Completely and utterly.”

Carmen’s staring at Pete. He’s not typically a snitch but this is his sister, “Did Pete tell you—?”

“That mom was there on our fucking opening and he told her we were having a baby? Yes, about five minutes before she sat down.” Nat says it with a perfectly practiced smile and a simmering anger.

Your hands slip just slightly, you readjust your grip on Mickey. You and Carmen speak together, “He what?” 

Nat doesn't mean to ignore your both but she does, “How'd you find out?”

“I just told him.” You pipe up, guilt covers your face. “I saw them when I came that night. Sorry, I didn't realize that was your mom— Or husband, for that matter.”

Sug shakes her head, waving off the apology. “Not your fault, his.”

“Yeah.” Carmen nods, “Back to that, by the way?”

“Yeah, he realized it was kind of a hard lie to uphold— Because mom sucks at acting surprised.” She sighs, “She’s taking it well publicly but I’m expecting a full blown meltdown in the bathroom of which I can’t escape, so. Beautiful wedding.”

“Yeah, those are kind of unavoidable.” You just had one yourself. “Fingers crossed you make it out alive?”

“Oh, I’m making it the fuck out, it’s her you should pray for.”

You have to respect the power in that. “Damn.”

“I didn’t ask to be her daughter! If she hands it to me I’m handing it fucking back—” Nat’s brain is always running like a faucet, she cuts off her own thoughts with a new one. “Christmas is in a week.”

“We know.”

“Fuck me.” She sighs so hard it blows strands of hair out of her face. “What the fuck are we gonna do, Carmy?”

“Was gonna ask you.” Carm’s distracting himself with Michaela, she reaches for his hand, she doesn’t grab a finger, she traces his tattoos. God, babies are cute sometimes. “Can we figure it out later?”

“Yeah, like everything else we do, I guess.” Sug groans. But she just as equally doesn’t want to think about it as him. And honestly, she’s just happy to see him acting like a fucking uncle for once.  “Tony, will I see you at work on Monday? You’re onboarding, right?”

You don’t notice the way Carmen’s face stones up, like a secret has been revealed. He’s been preparing for you to say yes. He’s got that Docusign in his inbox, ready to send. Had Nat budget you in. But you don’t seem to be upset about it— Or maybe you just didn’t catch that Carmen selfishly was hoping you’d come right back to him. Maybe it’s just that you don’t think it’s selfish.

“Oh— Uh, yeah, I guess you will.” Michaela starts to smack you for not giving her attention for more than seven seconds. You turn your head to her, bouncing her again, “Pbbt—Pbbbt— Mat leave over?”

“Gonna need to be.” Nat laughs when she says it, like you’re both on some sort of inside joke. Yeah, The Bear’s kind of a nightmare, of course Nat’s always needed. You laugh back, though there wasn’t really a joke anywhere in there.

“Make sure you get your rest.” Sug scoops Michaela out of your arms, rejuvenated from her second of peace. “Your boss is kind of an ass.”

Unfair drive-by, Carmen waves a hand like a white flag, “Alright—”

“I know, I like him anyways.” “Gross.” “I know, it sucks.”

“Okay, okay,” It’s way too obvious how happy Nat is that her brother has someone. “Both of you get the fuck out of here before she sees you, I told her you’d be too busy in the kitchen to say hi.”

She knows her brother, and Carmen’s grateful for it, but, “Are you sure? I can—” 

“I love you, Bear.” Nat gives him a kiss on the cheek, and you a quick hug. “But fucking run, seriously.”

Carmen nods, “Heard. Love you, Bear.”

You quickly dash off together, blending into crowds to go unnoticed. Mumbling plans out as you sprint. “I’ve gotta help Marcus close out the bar.”

“I’ve gotta pack up our equipment.” “You’re on the fifth floor too, right?” “Yeah, you’re rooming with Syd?” “Yeah, you and Richie?”

“I got my own room.” “Okay, rich boy.” “I— It’s a fuckin’ Holiday Inn, it’s not that bad—” “Oooh, Charmin gets his first paycheck suddenly he’s all that—” “You wanna come up to my room or not?”

“Oh?” You practically skirt on your heels when you suddenly stop walking, “He’s bold now—”

“I— That’s not— Like we—” He can’t dig himself out of this one, and his darting eyeline is giving him away. “You told Syd you’d still sleep in your room— I just meant like— Like we could— hang out.”

“We could hang out?” “Stop—” “I’d love to hang out, dude.” “We can watch a movie or somethin’—”

You gasp, thought occurring to you. “Yeah, let’s watch a movie. I wanna watch a movie.”

“I don’t like the look that just happened in your eyes.” 

“Yes, you do.” Your turn to smush Carmen’s face in your hands, kissing him with a comical, all too wet, and in no way seductive muah—

Which somehow just makes it all the more entrancing, for him.  “Yes, I do.”

You smile, letting him go, splitting off from Carmy in favour of your bar. “I’ll meet you in the lobby, go be a good boss.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“How are they not seeing him fuck up the soup— That— A whole pot—” “You’re literally saying exactly what Remy is saying right now—” “I— Good. I’m still mad about the five star thing.”

Carmen likes Ratatouille. Likes it enough to nitpick. He relates to the weird rat with a complex family dynamic and having a brother that means well but fucks with him so much. He relates to the no credit, the starving, the death and desire of feeding the ego, Carmen relates to feeling like a freak in his own kitchen. 

It is weird to feel seen by a rat. 

But it’s nice to have you in his room, in his bed, watching some dinky little red-head try to survive in a French kitchen. It’s nice to occasionally watch you instead, out of the corner of his eye. He thought of roughly… fourteen more recipes since leaving the bathroom with you? Who would’ve thought that watching someone use a makeup cleansing balm would be inspiring?

What? It melted beautifully. Or maybe you’re just beautiful? Whatever. You emulsified it in your hands. Emulsion? Coconut emulsion would be interesting; very similar creme texture. On top of a souffle? Delicate. But it still needs zip. The glitter from your eyeshadow makes him think of zesting. Lemon zest. Needs more scent, though. Oh, maybe Kaffir limes. That’s a weird dish. That’s never gonna work. He has to get better at subtracting around you. 

He’s doing pretty good at not saying I love you, though, so, that’s something. 

“The houndstooth pants are cute.” You hum, as Linguini finally kisses Collette— Though by a rat’s volition. A win is a win. You lean into Carmen’s side, watching the movie pirated on his laptop, because hotel tv pay-per-view was so overpriced for no reason. “Oh, fuck, what’s my uniform gonna be?”

“Chef whites, no?” His arm is around your shoulder, it’s nice. “I can get you a jacket—”

“Well, your servers wear black— And I’m gonna be like, like both right?” You turn your head to him. Bad idea. He’s still very pretty, if not prettier in pajamas. “Like, making drinks in the back and then acting as somme out front. So all black?”

“Hm.” Carmen tries not to frown. Tries not to see you wearing black as you being on the other team. “I guess.”

“Richie’s not getting me in a fuckin’ button up, though.” You don’t notice his expression’s minute faltering, crossing your arms, thinking. “Sleeveless black turtleneck? Maybe black palazzo pants, could do what fuckin— Linguini’s doin—”

You point at the screen. “The bright red converse? Could do all black and then bright blue converse? Would that be cute or is that deeply unprofessional?”

Carmen tilts his head back and forth, trying to let you down easy, “I wouldn’t call it deeply unpr—”

“Heard. Okay, maybe like— Like a red bottom heel—” You kick your foot up in the air, for no real reason. A shoe isn’t suddenly going to appear on it for display. “Like not actual ones, duh— Like a black boot and I paint the sole blue—” 

“What’s with you and blue?” He's deeply amused, or maybe that's just Carmen's constant state, right now, twirling his fingers through your hair without a care in the world.

“It’s like, Bear colours. You do blue. Aprons, baskets— I guess I’m thinking of The Beef, but like, your lighting is kinda blue.” You shrug. “I wanna match.”

He nods, eyes on the movie, thinking far too much— Well, for the average person. For Carmy it’s a perfectly normal amount of thinking. “All black, blue sole, blue earrings, maybe? White apron for when you’re in the back?” 

Please say yes to the white apron. Please say yes to his team. He'll get your initials monogrammed and everything.

“Yeah, that’s a cute look. As long as it’s easy to take off.” You hum. “Oh, y’know, Richie wanted to—” 

Speak of the Devil, and he shall call you for the fifth fucking time. “Fuckin— Pause it, hold on—”

Carmen pauses the wonderful rat chef in tandem with you answering the phone with, “I’m not fuckin’ comin’ to pool, Cousin!”

In one ear, out the other. “Fuck you! When are you getting here?” 

“I am not getting out of bed to play pool— A game I have not played— With a bunch of fuckin—”

“If you’re not down here in five minutes, Chip, on God—” “I’m gonna fuckin’ hang up again you motherfucker—” “And what? You’ll just answer again, won’t you?”

Richie’s tone gives him away. He’s giggling, bubbly, absolutely tanked on dirty shirleys. But there’s a very genuine joy to it. You’ve answered his stupid meaningless calls every time, the last four times, despite knowing they are in fact, stupid and meaningless. And that is rife with meaning. 

You sigh, but you’re smiling. “Yeah. I’ll answer.”

“Good.” You can hear his smile mirrored through the phone. “Sell your Greyhound ticket to Fak.”

“Bitch, fuck no—” “We can go aroun’ the city tommorow! We’re closed! C’mon have some fuckin’ fun before you start working in hell!” “We’re gonna be stupid New York tourists?” “Eva wanted me to get her face on some m and m’s—” “You want me to come with you to the fucking Time Square M and M store?”

That’s when Carmen shoots up, shoulder against yours, panickedly muttering into the phone, “We cannot go to Time Square a week out from Christmas.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When you realize why there’s a pause, you shut your eyes tight, knowing exactly what you’re gonna get. Carmen realizes after watching your face scrunch up, he puts his face in his hands, “Shit—”

“You’re fucking Carmen!”

“No—” “You said you’re in bed! His bed?!” “We’re watching Ratatouille—” “Without me? You’re coming to the fucking M and M store— Also that big ass toy store—” “This is not a betrayal—” “Matter of fact, we’re gonna go see that big fuckin’ tree, too—” “You just want me to drive us home because you’re gonna be too hungover.”

“No, I want you to drive us home because I love you.” Richie’s slurring when he says it, like it’s some sort of gotcha. “So fuck you, actually.”

Carmen bites back laughter next to you, you just shake your head, tutting. “I love you, too, Cousin.”

“If you loved me you’d come play pool.” “I don’t fuckin’ know how to play pool!” “We’ll fuckin’ learn you somethin’ then!” “Fuck off! I’m already coming to fucking Time Square with you, don’t be whiny.” 

“You’ll come?”

You massage your brow bone, “Syd’s not gonna wanna sit next to Fak on the bus, you got room for four?”

“Yeah, but someone’s gonna have to sit on the console.” “I nominate Carmen.” “I second the nom.”

Carmen, now with two votes to sit on the console up front, presses his face into your shoulder. “What the fuck—” You peer down at him and whisper, “We’ll do shifts, don’t worry.”

“Put me on speaker phone.” “You’re talking so loud that Carmen can very clearly hear you.”

“Put me! On speaker phone!”

You put Richie on speaker phone. Carmen clears his throat, gruff, “Yo, Rich, can we finish the fuckin’ movie?”

“Patience is a virtue, or some shit. D’you see the resos?”

You mouth to Carmen, ‘Reservations?’ Carmen nods. “Yeah, I saw.”

“Gonna be fucked.” You frown when you hear that, but don’t want to interrupt. You silently word, ‘What happened?’ Carmen puts a finger over his mouth, he’ll explain in a second. 

“Gonna be fucked, yeah.” Carmen sniffs, swiping at his nose. “Good kind, though.”

“Yeah. Good kind.” There’s a sigh from Richie on the other end, that heavy sigh. Practically sobering up with just one sentence. “Christmas is in a week.”

“I know.” Carmen kisses his teeth. This is going to be the worst, for all of you. The missing link is going to be all too apparent.  “Good time to be busy.” 

“Good time to be busy.” Richie echoes. “Only way out is through.”

“Heard.” Carmen nods, what else is there to say? “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Aright. Don’t fuck in a fuckin’ Holiday Inn Chip’s worth mo—” 

That’s when you interrupt, “Alright, what a wonderful phone call this has been goodbye, fuck you, love you, don’t call again, be safe!” You hang up before Richie can reply, head flopping over.

There’s a long silence before Carmen speaks again. “...I’m not tryna do that by the way—”

“No, I know, I’m worth more than a Holiday Inn.”

Snorts of laughter fill the stale air of this shitty little Holiday Inn one bed. Carmen pulls you back into him, arm on your waist. Before you can start the movie again, though, you have to ask. “Reservations fucked?”

He hums, tucking your hair back so he can see the side of your face better. “We started taking reservations last week— Just to test it out. N’ it was goin’ smooth but ‘tuh…” He squints. “Trending today with the whole uh— Chef thing. We’re kinda booked full ‘til the end of the year. And January.”

“Oh shit.” Word on the street is true. Any advertising is good advertising. Even when promoting the wrong fucking website. 

“Yeah, good kinda fucked, but like. Fucked.” Carmy nods, and after a second, grabs your hand. “But Christmas— Christmas Eve ‘n Christmas is off— And New Years— So, so you won’t be overwhelmed, hopefully.”

Your brain is already shooting miles ahead, you’re mentally back in Chicago, already. “We really gotta get on that cocktail menu.” There’s so much to do. New job, new menu, Christmas—

“And coffee.” Carmen sounds calm when he says it, which is deeply unlike him.

“And coffee.” You echo, eyes distant. You shoot back up. “Fuck, road trip is gonna be such a time sink. Okay— Well, okay— We’ll just— I’ll make a list tonight—”

 You’ve gotta figure out your hours. You don’t want to lose Chicago’s Kindest completely— Can’t be available 24/7 anymore, though. Mattina Tony’s gonna hate that. But he’ll be happy for you. Gotta tell Eden’s Club you’re not going to pick up shifts anymore. They’ll say they’re happy about it, but curse you behind your back. That’s fine. 

“List for what?”

“Christmas shopping.” Your eyes flick to him, still thinking. “I win Christmas every year.”

You’re getting Richie new cufflinks— But what of? Can’t just do initials, that’s lame. Fuck, what do you get Carmen? Can’t just do something cooking related— That’s lamer. But it’s also like— His only hobby.

“Don’t think that’s how Christmas works.”

“It fully is. And being in Time Square is gonna widen the fuck out of my search radius. Fuck what do I do for Syd? Fancy knife? They sell fancy knives here?”

Carmen shrugs, “I know a guy in the area.”

“Fantastic. I’ll get a list, you’ll help me out with stores. We’ll get coloured pencils at FAO, we’ll draft up a rough menu on the way home—” “Hey—” “It’s twelve hours of driving, so I think we can get a good chunk done. And then test out and finish on Monday—” “Baby—” “I was thinking we could do a section of house cocktails and coffees named after Chefs—” “I said don’t work on it—” “So like, each one would be themed after what I think of when I think of you—” 

Carmen grabs your face with both hands. “Tony.”

“Carmy.”

“Cannot believe I’m saying this to another person, but loosen your grip.” He strokes your cheekbones with his thumb. It’s nice. “You don’t have to do it all.”

It's a long silence of just staring back at him, so much so Carmy’s worried he has failed at this whole self-help thing. But then, you say, “Sara’s a good fucking therapist.”

“She’s got a pretty flexible schedule, too.”

Your face is still in his hands, you’re basically unblinking. “I think you’re a pink pepper aperol spritz with a slice of grapefruit. Maybe like a cherry syrup rim? Or is that too much? That might be too much.”

Carmen sighs in a way that sounds like a laugh. “How many drinks have you made in your head?”

“Just that one. But I think Richie would be something with whiskey and peaches— And somethin’ about Syd makes me think about figs, I don’t know why, which would go good with—”

Carm pinches your cheek, frowning, though there’s an admiration to it. “I said don’t work on it.” 

You push his hands away, “I haven’t written anything down! I can’t stop my brain from thinking! How many fuckin’ plates do you have in your head?”

He thinks, tilting his head back and forth. “A couple.” It’s a lot more than a couple. “They’re all bad, though.” 

“Bad, how?” 

“Bad, like weird.” Carmen gestures to the dimming screen of his laptop. You shake the touchpad awake. Rat chef is inspiring, and a good reminder of what he's meant to do, as are you. “It’s uh, it’s a good movie. It’s good to make new shit. But like, I need to be controlled.”

You tilt your head, “I don’t think so.”

“No?” Despite the fact that you’re disagreeing with him, there’s a happy hum, in Carmen’s voice.

“No. I think we should make really bad weird shit. At least in like, R and D.” You lean back down, against him. “Gotta try it before you brush off the idea. That’s the fun thing about art, y’know? Might work, might not.”

“I think that’s life.”

“Life is art, art is life, food is both.” 

“Woah.” “That was kind of a bar, wasn’t it!?” “Kinda tough.” “What’s your bad weird idea?”

“Steak with pop rocks.”

“Oh my god.” Your eyes go wide, but with a smile. Shocked but delighted. It's absolutely going in Carmen's top five favourite expressions of yours. You lean into him further, back of your hand slapping his chest. 

“I know, but I was thinking the sugar would be good—”

“Like a sort of maple or sugar curing thing?” God, you just get it. And you give a shit about getting it.

“Exactly, n’ then it makes you like— Like salivate.” “I don’t think it’s that crazy an idea.”

He’s so excited to have someone encourage his ideas, for once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod assuredly. “We should do it. Try it, at least.”

“Okay. Cool.” Carmen tries and fails to not light up at the prospect of ‘we’. “You’ve still got a hard out at twelve?”

“Syd said she will be knocking violently if I’m not back at midnight on the dot, yeah.” You unpause the movie. “And she’s gonna be pissed when I tell her I’ve volunteered us for a tourist spree, so I gotta be on her good side.”

Carmen shrugs, turning his attention back to the movie, arm around your shoulder. “It’ll be fun, if you’re there.”

It gives you both away.

Every sentence gives you both away. The way you speak, the way you act, the way you pose. It gives you both away. The way he moves your hair out of your face so you can see the movie clearly. The way you lift your head so he can tuck his arm under the pillow, so it doesn’t go numb under you. All without asking. The way you see each other, the way you are constantly doting and thinking of the next thing you can make the other—All without checking in. The Berf shirt you wear for pajamas, your refilled toiletries in his hotel shower. The domesticity comes all too easy to both of you. It gives you both away.

“Remy kinda sounds like Carmy, y’know—” “Don’t.” “My petit chef!”

You say I love you in every way but the way that makes it weird and bad and stupid and too soon. 

“Good God.” Is the first thing Sydney says, when you return to your shared hotel room. Face and voice filled with disgust, that is really only half sarcastic. “You’re beyond saving.”

You push past her, bumping shoulders as you do, smiling all the while. It’s nice that she can see you again. Even if she’s seeing that you’re down bad. “I didn’t even say anything—”

“Yeah, no, it’s that face on your face— God, it’s over—” “Baby, just say you’re happy for me.”

“I—” Syd blinks, rapid, hands in the air. “I’m happy for you— Tentatively.” Pending Carmen. Probationary forgiveness. 

“Thank you. I’ll take it.” You squat down to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge, when you do, you’re able to give Syd a once over.

She’s adorned in an old jazz club shirt from your highschool, boxers, and a long bonnet so old you recognize it. You recognize all of it. It’s nearly enough to make you cry. 

Funny, she’s thinking the same thing. Together, you speak. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Jinx!”

“Double jinx!”

“Triple Jinx!” It’s on the third one that you decide to let her win and not say it a fourth time. 

It’s on the fourth one that Syd decides she doesn’t want to win. “Quadr— Man, this sucks.”

You know exactly what she means. You fall out of your squat, sitting on your butt with a frown. “It literally would’ve just taken one phone call.” You could’ve been doing this for years.

She sits down next to you, back against the front of the bed. “There were a lot of moments, where I thought to call you, honestly.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like uhm—” Syd’s face scrunches up her face, she’s already opened her mouth so she has to tell you, but she’s realizing she probably shouldn’t tell you. “There was this fucked day at The Beef, where we set up online orders, and I forgot to tick off pre-order—”

You unscrew the bottle cap, squinting. “I feel like that should automatically be off.” 

“That’s what I’m fucking saying!” She slaps your knee with the back of her hand, “But uh, no it was fucking on— And we got like— Like fucked— Said that already. Hundreds of orders. And it was so much and and— Richie was, at the time, kind of a dick—” 

“You don’t have to mince, I know what he was.” You take a sip of water, nodding. He’s a work in progress, as are you all.

“He was being a bitch and— And— I might’ve maybe lowkey stabbed him.”

“Holy fuck?!” You have to laugh, out of sheer shock. You choke on your water. “Syd?!”

“It— Swear to God—” Syd raises one hand, and puts the other over her heart. “Was an accident. Like— Like I was saying I would, and also I was like—  Thinking about it— But I didn’t mean to actually do it— Like he walked into it—”

“Jesus Christ, Manslaughter Sydney—!” “No! …A little. On occasion.”

“You ever wanna stab Carmy?” “Oh, all the fucking time.”

“Fair.” You hand her your water bottle when you spot her looking at it. You see each other, you take care of each other, without being asked. 

“And after a brutal stabbing—” “It was barely a graze, to his ass.” “—You thought to call me?”

“Yeah. You’re like. I dunno. I—” She sighs, taking a beat. “I’ve heard people talk about like— When they’re in a life or death scenario, or panicking, their first thought is like ‘I gotta call my mom’.” Syd clutches onto the water bottle like it’s a life preserver. “But I like— Like I don’t have that instinct, duh, dead mom club— But like, like my instinct when I’m scared is to call you.”

“You should’ve.” You want to take her hand, but don’t. Still working on that hesitation. You’ll both get there.

“You should’ve, too.” Syd lightly punches your knee. She tucks her lips in a line, thinking. “I would’ve been there.”

“I think I kinda got stuck in the same thought Mikey had, with Carmen.” You prop your knee up, hugging it to you. “Didn’t wanna drag you down with me. Didn’t want you to know I— That I’m not really uhm— That I’m not all that great.”

“I didn’t ask you to be great.” Syd says it before she thinks it, and it’s enough to make your eyes water. In a good way. She continues. “I didn’t ask you to be my somme, either. I always thought you were cool. I would always think you’re cool.”

“I…” You clear your throat, controlling your micro-expressions poorly. “I— I know. I think I just… Always do too much? Like I do everything to make myself like— Needed.”

If they need you, they can’t leave you. Though, that didn’t really stop you two from growing apart, so there goes that theory. 

“You are needed.” Syd nearly rolls her eyes at you, but realizes that might be insensitive.

Syd could’ve called Terry, when the walk-in door broke. She called you. Syd could’ve called Claire— They’re not all that close, but she could’ve, when Nat went into labour. She called you. Syd could’ve called Fak, when Carmen’s oven broke. She called you. It’s insane that you’d ever think you weren’t her lifeline. 

But she clarifies anyway, “Not that— Not that you need to be needed though, for me to want you around.”

You snatch the water bottle from her. “Well, I know that now.”

“Good.”

You all but chug the water, God you’re dehydrated. Syd laughs, “It’s not gonna fucking run away from you.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” You grin, screwing the cap back on. Sniffing, you sober up a little. “We’re never not gonna be friends again.”

“Yes, Chef.”

“Lest you go full on He Had it Comin’ on your fuckin’ co-workers again.”

She scoffs. “I promise to try to not stab someone in your presence.” 

“Deal.” You both laugh. You put your hand out to her, and without confirmation, do a handshake that must be more than a decade old. Dap, up-down, jellyfish out. Though, for your purposes, squid out. 

Incredible, you’ve hit Syd with love and nostalgia, she has to say yes now. “We’re roadtripping with Richie and Carmen instead of taking the Greyhound.”

“It’s so crazy that you think that’s gonna happen—” “It will be fun—” “Define fun for me, right now—” “We can get Christmas shopping done—”

“Fuck. Christmas is in a week.” “I know!” 

Syd scrunches up her nose. “What do I get my dad?”

“Sounds like you need to do some window shopping.” You could probably recommend something if you thought about it for two more seconds, but then you wouldn’t have an excuse to drag her along. “We could go to a Tiffany’s or something.”

“What and get him a locket?” “I’m honestly just naming stores, at this point.”

She’s thinking about it, really thinking about it. “...Could go to the MET, go through the gift shop. He’s a tchotchke guy.”

You hum, nodding. You can get her to fold. “Look at some expos, get some artistic inspiration?”

Syd’s eyes roll back, and she rolls her head back with them, head on the edge of the bed, in dismay. “...Are we doing gifts?” 

You shrug, “Was thinking I’d get you a little something.”

“So super over the top and extravagant?” “What’s the fun in telling?” “I hate you.” “So you’ll come?”

She sighs, husky. “Yeah…” She says it like she’s upset but you both know Syd is a little excited. 

You pump your fist, delighted. A win.

A comfortable silence fills the room. You flop your back down on the floor, laying on the carpet. “Thank you for helping Carmy.”

“Didn’t do much.” Syd shrugs, lazily turning her head on the bed to you. “He just needs pushing, sometimes.”

You hum, nodding. “Well, thank you for pushing.”

“You’re so welcome, dude.” You both laugh, and after another long gap of silence, she kicks you. “Stop lying on the dirty ass hotel floor, we paid for a bed.” 

“There’s something about laying on the floor, man.” You shake your head. “Get down here. I can see the scope of the universe from down here, actually.”

With a profoundly deep sigh, Syd rolls over to you. Your shoulders touch as you both stare at the ceiling. She hums, pointing to the popcorn tiles. “Oh yeah, secrets of the universe, right there.”

“I told you.” You nod, wisely. You frown. “...When do you think it’s like, too soon, to say ‘I love you’?”

“Oh my fucking God it’s that bad—” “Just answer!” “Definitely right now is too fucking soon!” “Well, yeah, I fuckin’ figured—!” “I’d say like, another month or two, minimum.”

“I think I might explode, by then, if I’m being honest.” You turn your head to her. “I’m really worried I’m gonna forget I haven’t already said it and I’m gonna say it at a stupid moment and it’s gonna be lame and embarrassing and bad.”

Syd turns her head to you. “Yeah, that’s probably what’s gonna happen.”

“Okay, so you’re no fuckin’ help.” You snort. 

“What do you want me to say? You love to the point of embarrassment.” She shrugs, smiling at your demise. But then Syd sobers up a little, turning her body to face you, leaning her head on her hand. “Are you sure, though?”

“I think so, yeah.” You cross your arms, nodding, assuring yourself, practically. “I feel what I think can only be described as emotionally violent— affectionately. And I think that’s what love is. Pretty sure.”

“Hm.” Syd watches you watch her. You’re absolutely getting lost in your own brain. She pokes the space between your eyebrows, you wake back up. “What’s in there?”

You blink, “Thinking of all the worst ways I could say it.” In front of everyone, accidentally while saying goodbye, off-handedly while hanging up, over text, and so on and so forth.

“Okay, that sounds awful and unproductive so let’s go to bed, huh?” Syd grunts, sitting up. She reaches for your hand to help you stand up with her. “Just try saying it normal.”

You take a breath, looking her in the eyes, say it normal. “Love you.”

“Yeah, just say it like that.”

“Oh, so I can say it—” “In two months.”

“Wait, is one more month hard off the table now—” “Now it’s three.” “Fuck, it’s gaining interest?!”

Just try to make it to next year without saying it, you’d take that happily. Just make it to Christmas. Okay, maybe just make it until you get back to Chicago…Maybe just take a vow of silence. 

You shake your head, coming back to reality.

“Wait, what the fuck, Syd, say it back!”

wooooo

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Next Part

[yeahihyperfixtate]

♡ — luke and kieran x assassin!reader

content : fluff, suggestive (like you have to squint), nonmc!reader, reader contexted to have killed ppl, idk luke and kieran being adorable, more or less the twins x reader

authors note : i havent written stuff in a year hope we're somewhat back in the game. idk I love luke and kieran and this idea has been buzzing about since I met them in game, and ik it says assassin but assistant felt too icky to call reader so yeah, enjoy pls <3

♡ — assassin!reader who, in her vulnerable youth, was taken under the wing of onychinus's mysterious leader, revealing a hidden purpose and destiny within her.

♡ — assassin!reader who quickly fell in line when an opportunity arose, casting aside her former recklessness as a besieged street rat, employing such developed cunning senses to eliminate anyone who dared interfere with the hailed leader of onychinus.

♡ — assassin!reader who was treated no differently than the others, used as a strategic asset in those dull meetings the sylus ordered her to attend, some remarking on the irony that no one in that overly cologned room took a woman seriously, even if she stood beside onychinus's revered leader.

♡ — assassin!readerwho only sighed at the memory of the last meeting as her boss spoke humorously. those who dared to push their limits with him, feeling a boost of superiority against one man in his lonesome and some unseen woman, lay with their throats slit as she returned to stand beside her seated superior, her actions displayed as a brief warning to those who tried to think the same.

♡ — assassin!reader who had to refrain her walls of stoicism from falling when she was handed her very own crow mask, briefed that she would be under his direct commands, no other.

♡ — assassin!reader who after a few months of securing a spot directly under sylus’s hand, was introduced to her previously unknown, equally skilled comrades, luke and kieran—the infamous twins of onychinus—immediately affirming such with her new uniform, smaller but just as tactile copy of theirs.

♡ — assassin!reader who quickly learned the personalities she was forced to interact and work with daily, distinguishing between the vigorous, unpredictable nature of the older brother, Luke, and the calmer, more soothing demeanour of Kieran.

♡ — assassin!reader who while navigating these complex dynamics, found herself constantly adjusting herself, carefully tailoring her walls to stay upright as she interacted with the pair careful to not stitch herself into their lives, wanting no more than to rely only on herself, all while maintaining her unwavering loyalty to sylus.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds it increasingly hard to hold up these walls as she works with the pair, finding herself alongside the two during their free time, relaxing in one of sylus’s penthouses, awaiting his next command to fill the boredom that overshadows the three.

♡ — assassin!reader who isn’t respected by a selection of lower-ranked members due to her status of being a highly-ranked woman in onychinus, her name slandered continuously among the workplace.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds herself watching the twins with a mix of admiration and surprise as the two yank a man out of his chair, their aura cold and menacing. their victim, refusing to acknowledge her high rank, accompanied by a moment of foolishness calling her a bitch during a meeting the three were conducting. all triggered by her blunt criticism of his team’s failure to deliver the required number of protocores on time, fuelling the brothers' anger, actively threatening his life with a gun to his head unless he supplied an apology on his knees within the next five seconds.

♡ — assassin!reader who gradually comes to the profound realization of the deep significance the twins hold in her life, a startling epiphany triggered by a harrowing near-death experience on what should have been an ordinary mission gone south.

♡ — assassin!reader who often perches on a high-rise rooftop after successful missions, gazing over the mist-shrouded N109 zone. only recently finding herself joined by the twins, a result of their collaboration over the past few weeks.

♡ — assassin!reader who suddenly finds herself looking for the pair during her scarce free time, looking for the mix of comforting personalities to fill her boredom.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds herself swept up in their mischievous antics, reluctantly pressed against a wall corner alongside them, watching as an unsuspecting newcomer to onychinus gets a face full of pie upon opening the shared base fridge.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds her cheeks reddening as her two companions casually speculate about her appearance, pulling guesses on the colour and texture of her hair, her supposed eye colour and its shape, all while she attempts to avoid their curious eyes on her.

♡ — assassin!reader who silently prayed to whatever deity was watching, begging for an open grave to swallow her whole as luke reached out to hold her, thankfully, masked face, forcing it still in an attempt to peer past the red slits that lay over her eyes.

♡ — assassin!reader horrifyingly wishes she could jump off this very rooftop they resided on as kirean casually chimes into the conversation some more, audibly wondering about her form in outfits that weren't the current uniforms displayed. he shrugs it off, only adding fuel to the fire as he stretches on how he knows that 'you’re a beauty either way behind that mask', luke places the foreseen cherry on top as he agrees with his younger brother so casually, finally letting go of her burning face.

♡ — assassin!reader can only stare at the back of their heads as they both turn away from her, looking down at the streets below as if this was the most normal thing in the world

[dippedinmelancholy]

It's so horribly clear SJM was writing off of vibes for the backstory of Feyre for ACOTAR, specifically their downfall into being poor and how Feyre was the only victim, since she hunted. Her narrative is that Nesta is a bitch and Elain is too stupid to realize she should be helping. Oh, and her dad is just like, there I guess. As someone who really grew up poor, poor enough that my family used a washboard at one point to scrub our clothes, grew tomatoes and cucumbers just to have something to eat through the summer, went months in a row with no electricity and the smallest things in the world felt like actual miracles . . . It's such weak writing. You don't hit rock bottom immediately. Hunting alone simply isn't enough. No one can convince me they were just eating whatever meat Feyre brought home, that's not how making food last goes. You make stew (arguably a lot since it's what stretches the most).You don't buy new clothes all of the time, you mend them. You ration your flour, your milk, you trade what you can with neighbors. It's evidence that either Feyre or SJM just doesn't value feminine work, because when you're so poor you don't know if you can eat for the full week, it's the feminine work that keeps your house alive. Additionally, Elain is so clearly not stupid????? Feyre just imagines the worst of both of her sisters. She thinks Nesta is simply bitchy to be cruel to her specifically, rather than Idk, she's pissed at her worthless deadbeat dad and mourning that their mother is dead? It's Elain who buys Feyre the paints, so she knows enough to try and make Feyre happy. In ACOSF, it's CASSIAN who goes on this who tangent about "Nesta was wrong, Elain saw everything and knew exactly why she did it" in regards to Nesta's anger and the memory of Nesta stealing a Duke's heart at 14. So it's not a recent development thanks to being a seer/fae. She's always seen. She's always known. She just let others cater to her. Let others take on the social and physical burdens. Let her sisters put her own happiness and softness above her own. In a better world, all three sisters who be an exploration of trauma responses from the beginning. Instead, they were written to ensure you saw Feyre as the perfect victim, rather than a complex person who doesn't react well, because no one does.

[verysium]

PLEASE DO BLUE LOCK ICKS IM BEGGING🙏😭🌹

😏 coming right up anon. gonna channel my inner critic and not hold back on any of these.

RIN

brother complex. not much else to say except that he needs to get a life. not everything is about metaphorically crushing your older brother's dreams and brooding in the dark hate of retribution.

competitive but only because he is a desperate whore for external validation. ignores everyone but craves the attention of a sole person named sae itoshi. was defeated by isagi once and has never let go of it since. has a one-track mind that is impossible to derail. stubborn when he wants to be.

probably a virgin and will continue to be one until his late 30s.

has not known a single day of peace ever since sae ditched him for the popular girlies. as a result, he has developed a very concerning case of social awkwardness. his idea of a conversation involves a brick wall and thirty minutes of you staring at his resting bitch face. constantly looks like that one grumpy cat meme. judges you for your poor decisions but then gets aggressively defensive when you point out his own mistakes.

reeks of so much teen angst that even metallica can't save him. the problem is that he has nothing to back up his emo persona. his insults lack creativity and, unfortunately for him, phrases like "lukewarm" and "half-baked" and "hell" do not make his words carry more weight. uses the f-word but in the most embarrassing context that it makes you facepalm and internally cringe.

SAE

zero social awareness. this boy's head is empty. the lights are not on up there. there are no picture frames or furniture. the curtains are drawn, and there is not a sliver of clouds or sunshine. cannot read body language and does not know what a filter is.

the source of all of rin's stress. he is the original trauma projector, creator of generational cycles. not even subtle about it. "turns out i was wrong. i thought japan was incapable of ever giving birth to decent forwards." sir....with the way you worded that, you knew exactly what you were doing when you gave rin false hope.

swears but it's even worse than his brother. literally called his elders a "fatso and bob cut duo" and "insect turd." i mean....there is a line between what is considered a legitimate burn and what is a first grader making up insults in his coloring book.

has a horrible haircut and no fashion taste. i already talked about this previously, but it was so bad it deserved a second mention.

a freak but tries to justify it rationally. like what do you mean you can tell a person's athletic ability from their buttock size? just admit you have a kinky fetish already.

somewhat of a coward but i'm gonna give him some leniency due to his tragic child genius backstory. tbh he's just an eighteen-year-old boy who needs a goddamn break.

KAISER

alexa please play clown music. this man sets himself for failure and then wallows in self-pity when he actually fails. like what did you expect? you knew what was going to happen the moment you challenged isagi like that. it was most definitely your fault you got violently humbled.

has a borderline god complex (currently calls himself an emperor but has not evolved into a deity yet.) unfortunately, he does not stand on business. cue the dramatic meltdowns when he realizes there is an actual gap between his ability and his reputation. if you're going to lie, at least make it believable.

insecure and mentally unstable. he probably cuts and re-dyes his hair every single time shit happens. no wonder his locks get shorter every time.

lazy when it comes to anything that is not football and expects others to do it for him. demands princess treatment wherever he goes. unfortunately, not all of us have servants with no self-respect like ness.

"it is not enough that i should succeed, others should fail" type of person.

does not wear shoes and even if he does, it's sandals. put them grippers away.

NAGI

a literal sloth who has so much potential but uses none of it. has no intrinsic motivation of his own, so if he's going to do anything, it has to be you behind the wheel, making sure he gets put to work.

does not have a close relationship with his parents, and so he has no sense of community, holidays, or traditions. no fun at all if you want him to do things like christmas shopping or birthday celebrations.

rots in bed all day and then has to nerve to ask you to carry him around. your back better be strong because his 190 cm body is not going to be light.

not loyal (need i say more.)

REO

second male lead syndrome. also known as that one popular guy who's always picked last.

acts like a victim but then when you realistically tell him to how to change his situation he refuses to do so. you cannot ask for advice and then take none of it to heart. no wonder you're still not over your ex.

"i can fix him" mentality. no, you can't. you are a seventeen-year-old child, not a licensed therapist and nagi isn't even all that.

NESS

touch-starved to the point he will stay in a toxic and abusive relationship in order to gain some scrap of affection. just because you were the black sheep of your family does not mean you can lose all sense of personal dignity.

probably stalks all the people he hates. has a burn book like regina george from mean girls. cuts out and glues little pictures of kaiser all over his bedroom. doodles hearts all over it with glittery gel pen. isagi's face and name are scratched out of every team photo.

delusional and prone to mood swings. medicated but at this point, he is beyond saving.

ISAGI

a home wrecker. has ruined more relationships than he can count on ten fingers yet still manages to smile like he's some angelic saint.

solves jigsaw puzzles for a living (not very cool if you ask me.)

has some unresolved anger management issues. probably repressed all his negative feelings when he was younger, so it all comes out when he's on the field. unfortunately, his twilight-sparkle-friendship-is-magic agenda is not going to work if he keeps cussing out his teammates like that. but then again, he is the main character, so i guess his plot armor makes up for his pitfalls.

says that he's a good guy but then holds personal vendettas against rivals he doesn't like. boy was so ready to throw hands when #kaisagi was trending on the internet. but when you actually think about, he's similar to kaiser in more ways than he'd like to admit.

BAROU

has the worst case of high and mighty "holier-than-thou" attitude. isagi put his ego in check, but it still peeks out from time to time.

he was the ugliest baby when he was born. i am not going to hold back on the child barou slander because it is true. no, he was not a cute and lovable bundle of joy. he looked like a demonic gremlin.

he needs to take more risks in life and try cross-dressing. simply imagining him in a maid uniform will not suffice. it needs to be made into a reality.

with how nit-picky he is, i doubt people can realistically stay within a 1-meter radius around him. unless you are a clean freak yourself, his constant complaints will start to get annoying after a time. even if he does have good intentions, he needs to let people have a little breathing room sometimes. a messy room is not going to kill you.

BACHIRA

this boy's brain is smooth. no folds. no gray matter. no intelligence either. his pencil and eraser have been left untouched since day one. if he wasn't crazily good at football, he would be unemployed and homeless in the future. not even a mcdonald's wants him.

one of those people who will do the literal opposite of whatever you say. you want him to stop talking? well, now he's never going to shut up. you tell him not to step on a pile of dog shit? well, now he's going to walk right into it. you want him to quit running around and act normal? well, now it's his life's mission to make you as annoyed as possible. please pray for your hair follicles because at the end of the day, you're not going to have many left with how much he makes you want to tear your hair out.

has the cerebral capacity of a toddler. if he thinks monsters are real, he's going to think anything is real. super gullible when it comes to any form of scam, ploy, or trickery. the only way he would not be fooled is if he's also played the same prank before.

SHIDOU

a brazen pervert. says the most out-of-pocket things and refuses to apologize for them. sometimes it comes out a little too sleazy for your liking.

"to me a goal is fertilization! a shot is the seed and the goal is the egg!! and the birth of that joy i call an explosion!! my genes are gonna knock you up!" let us give ourselves a moment of silence to digest this quote. only shidou ryusei would come up with a sperm and egg metaphor to describe football. (i guess protection means nothing to him.)

has no empathy. if you dislike him or cannot keep up with him, you're a literal nobody in his books. no sportsmanship. no compassion. no self-awareness.

you cannot say "balls" to him in a serious tone without him misinterpreting it as something dirty. that alone should tell you enough. stay the hell away from him.

where do men get the audacity? right here. from this little bastard. he invented the term "shameless slut." boy was getting off during the u-20 arc and on live TV too. no wonder sae said he was disgusting.

and finally, he comes from a long line of cockroaches. he's even got the antennae to prove it.

i think this might have been a little excessive, but i have no regrets about it. you're welcome anon ♡