#crossovers make sense now kinda

[abbeyofcyn]

Spiderman across the spiderverse was AMAZING.

I loved it so much. They upped the artistic/ creative 2d/3d parts and I didn't know that was possible and BOY was it good.

Honestly, the colours and action in the rottmnt trailer was what made me watch rottmnt the movie and I think I just love color for someone who wears black 9/10 times and has no idea how to colour.

But that's totally unrelated. Watch spiderman if you can!!!

[cobaltfluff]

happy crossover christmas to me !!! left: crossover / right: AU :3c

[synodicsoma]

For some odd reason I'm craving Stanford Pines x Junkenstein (Halloween Junkrat skin) content,,, prob my brain wanting Stanford getting in on my OW crossover shipping like I got going on for Stanley, ooooggghh,,,

[sonknuxadow]

its funny how whenever sonic has a crossover with some other media or brand it's always the most random thing that just makes you go okay this might as well happen i guess

[gregmarriage]

succ/brba crossover, where jesse and greg meet because greg goes to score drugs for kendall. then, he starts going to score pot for himself, bc jesse is nicer than a lot of other dealers, even if greg thinks he’s weird, and vice versa, but also, he’s a relaxing change of pace from the roys, and feels more akin to his old life, when he wants to go outside of himself and all the stress of his job and current life. he never has any idea what jesse gets up to, and neither does jesse of greg. one day, jesse disappears… and greg has to find a new dealer, and starts to forget about the weird fucking guy he used to smoke pot with sometimes.

[checkeredflagggs]

A Perfect Storm

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: meet dr. alice “barbie” sargaent, professional storm chaser

a/n: so twisters 2024 changed my life (glen powell in wet white T-shirt changed my life) so…here’s this. Also I got conflicting info about instagram so for here - no one but those that follow you can see a private accounts comments (even on a public post). Also plz suspend your disbelief - idk anything about storm chasing or tornadoes

Part 2

drbarbie

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 2,345,239 others

drbarbie: tbt to the very first storm I ‘chased’ and the lifelong obsession that it sparked within me!

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user1: you were so young!

teammember1: nice to know you’ve been crazy for years! 😂❤️

drbarbie: Passionate! The term is passionate 🩵

teammember2: no I think crazy is better

user2: ok but what are Logan Sargeant and Oscar Piastri doing in the likes…

user3: right?

user4: maybe they watch the Storm Wrangler YouTube channel?

user3: that would be the crossover of the century!

teammate3: awwww baby Dr. Barbie…

drbarbie: I think I made my dad drive around for hours trying to find where the rain was actually coming down

user4: ok that’s adorable

user5: newbie here 👋🏻 why the nickname Barbie?

drbarbie: I’m a 5’11” blonde woman with blue eyes who was in like every conceivable sport and after school program. Some butt starting calling me Barbie as a joke and now people forget my real name 😅

user6: wait your name isn’t actually Barbie? What’s real? What’s fake? Who knows? 🤣

drbarbie: yeah you can blame my twin for that…

loganpriv: you begged for weeks to get a cool nickname and were delighted! To tell people to call you Barbie.

alicepriv: shush 🤐

oscarpriv: oh really?

alicepriv: I said shut up?

user7: you have a twin?!

drbarbie: yup! I’m older then him by about 5 minutes - and I’ve never let him forget it 😂

loganpriv: and another lie! What’s up with that?

alicepriv: I’m gonna tell mom you’re bullying me!

loganpriv: do it! And I’ll tell her you’re lying to the internet

logansargeant

liked by alicepriv, oscarpiastri, and 1,023,677 others

logansargeant: traveling means time to catch up with TheStormWranglers

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user8: you’re a buckaroo too?! Love this!

oscarpiastri: watching the back episodes or the live stream?

logansargeant: back episodes first of course!

user9: ok but they’re both buckaroos too

user10: am i dumb? Buckaroos?

user11: kinda a you had to be there moment - during one of their first live streams teammate2 called everyone on the team buckaroos to get them moving and the fans just? kinda adopted the term for ourselves

user10: ohhhh ok. That makes sense and it’s so cute! Proud to be a buckaroo!

user12: this is gonna be your week Logan!

user13: yeah! Austin has always been really good to you! 🩵

alicepriv: so I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this…

loganpriv: what does that mean?

oscarpriv: Alice…

drbarbie

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 3,677,345 others

drbarbie: isn’t she a beaut! One of the biggest this year and I’m very happy to say Dolly (and us!) survived it!!! The opportunity to quite literally drive into the storm started as a fever dream from a few of the team members but we proved that it could be done. And this now allows us to gather even more important data — and as we always say, you can never have too much data!

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user14: Watching that almost gave me a heart attack oh my god

user15: i know! And they didn’t even give us any warning that it was something they could do!!!😡😢

drbarbie: We apologize! The team had been so excited and focused on getting Dolly ready for this that we forgot other people don’t live in our brains

user14: what even prompted this?

drbarbie: we were hitting bumps in the research process and as we were brainstorming ideas on how to fix it someone said that the easiest way was to…just go into the tornado. We said “bet” then figured out a way to allow us to do that safely!

teammember1: so I’m switching vehicles. I’m staying with the weather van from now on

drbarbie: oh it wasn’t that bad!

teammember1: I have about 200 new strands of grey hairs and a sore throat from all the screaming

drbarbie: like I said! Not that bad

user16: oh so you’re crazy crazy

drbarbie: we’re doing important research!

user17: what even was the point of all this?

drbarbie: my team and I are researching for a way that would allow us to stop a tornado in its tracks. We’re at the point where we can almost completely accurately predict when and where a tornado will hit — which is hugely important! Cause that allows us to save lives. But my team wants to take it a step further — to stop the storms when they do hit! To help protect people’s livelihoods

user17: holy shit! That’s huge!

user18: I didn’t even realize that is something that could be possible!

drbarbie: we believe strongly that it’s something that can be done. And we’re trying everything that we can to make it happen!

loganpriv: what the hell is this?!?

alicepriv: i told you you wouldn’t like it

oscarpriv: yes but there’s a huge difference between not liking it and it being completely INSANE

alicepriv: the theory was sound

loganpriv: this time - that’s not good enough

INCOMING CALL

ACCEPT OR DECLINE

ACCEPT

TRANSCRIPT

What the hell Alice? Driving into a tornado?

Oh don’t even Logan! Not when the two of you drive those super speed death traps!

That’s not even remotely the same and you know it!

…I know. Ok I know…

Alice…

Don’t. I know I should have told you before but…

Barbs?

I know you don’t like this answer but the theory was sound. We reached out and talked to like 10 different universities on the best way to modify the car and took all the extra precautions we could. The science-

doesn’t lie…

Haha

…you’re ok?

I think my heart is still racing but yes. And it’s almost done!

What is?

Project Aeolus!

Really?

TRANSCRIPT CONTINUES

logansargeant

liked by alicepriv, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 627,933 others

logansargeant: ahhhh Austin, my home away from home. It’s always good to come back to you — and the people that live there 🩵

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user19: IS THAT A GIRL LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT?

user20: are we soft launching now?

alexalbon: Did you get a puppy?

logansargeant: no 🤣 just pet sitting for the day! This is rascal!

alexalbon: i think it might be criminal if you don’t let me meet rascal!

logansargeant: I’ll ask! But it will probably have to be after COTA!

alexalbon: worth the wait!

user21: rascal? Like drbarbie’s newest puppy?

user22: no but that dog looks just like her new dog and we know that Logan is a buckaroo!

user21: I've connected the two dots

user23: You didn't connect shit

user22: I've connected them

user24: are my 2 fandoms colliding?

alicepriv: rascal!

loganpriv: i see how it is. I come back home and you just want me to watch the little nightmare

alicepriv: rascal is perfectly well behaved! You’re just a bad example

oscarpriv: I’m agreeing with her. We’ve had no problems with him until you came along…

loganpriv: lies and slander. Objection

alicepriv: law and order again logie?

williamsracing

liked by drbarbie, logansargeant, alexalbon, and 4,034,838 others

williamsracing: all smiles here at COTA as we welcome a special guest! Spending the weekend with us is Dr. Barbie, a meteorologist who specializes in tornadoes with a popular YouTube channel The Storm Wranglers!

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user25: DR BARBIE IN THE HOUSE!

user26: this is everything I didn’t know I needed holy crap

drbarbie: it’s always a pleasure to visit COTA! And it’s even better to visit one of my favorite teams!

williamsracing: so glad to have you here!

user27: ok but do you see the look on Logan’s face?

user28: yeah mans in love

user29: or…and hear me out…he could just be happy to meet her? We know he’s a fan of her channel

user28: no one is ever THAT happy to just “meet” a YouTuber, no matter how famous

logansargeant: Glad you could make time in your schedule to visit!

drbarbie: “But it's the Grand Prix!”

logansargeant: “Is it? Who's playing?”

drbarbie: “No one's playing. It's the Grand Prix. I never miss the Grand Prix.”

user28:…ok maybe you guys connected the dots

alexalbon: it was nice to meet you! Didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who had a more dangerous job then race driving though

drbarbie: same! It was such a pleasure — and don’t even. I’ll take my job over yours any day

alexalbon: really? You’d rather drive after and into tornados then drive in circles?

drbarbie: stupid circles! And yes. Yes I would

alexalbon: they’re not stupid!

user29: ok but they’re funny af

drbarbie

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 2,654,887 others

tagged: williamsracing, logansargeant, alexalbon

yourusername: trading in Dolly this weekend for some faster cars! Zoom zoom 🏎️💨

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user30: COTA! I’m at COTA! 🤞🤞 I might get to meet her and get her signature!

user31: oh my god! That would be the coolest thing ever

user32: you’re at a Grand Prix and meeting some stupid blonde is better?

user31: watch yourself! Dr Barbie is about 1000x better then you are you damn mouth breather

user30: mouth breather? 😂😂

user33: cool you’re at COTA but sargeant? You couldn’t pick literally any other driver to support?

drbarbie: and that’s you blocked. I don’t support hate on my page and I definitely don’t support hate against Logan

user31: you said it so well! Supportive queen!

loganpriv: cool your jets Alice. It’s fine

alicepriv: I don’t support hate but I do support bullying your unsupportive twin. Take that attitude and shove it

oscarpriv: sometimes I forget you’re twins and then I see you interact…

alicepriv: you watch yourself too. I’m soon to be in head smacking range…and I’m tall enough to get you

oscarpriv: yes ma'am

loganpriv: whipped

alicepriv: 🤨

loganpriv: 🤷🏼‍♂️

alicepriv: 🖕🏻

user34: ok but why Dolly?

drbarbie: why after the fabulous Dolly Parton of course

user35: you named your truck after Dolly Parton?

drbarbie: she’s had a lot of work done but she’s still the best

user35: 😂😂 icon behavior

logansargeant

liked by alexalbon, drbarbie, alicepriv, and 1,208,943 others

tagged: drbarbie, williamsracing

logansargeant: THANK YOU AUSTIN!! P3 baby! AND SPECIEAL THANKS TO MY YOUNGER TWIN SISTER ALICE drbarbie!!!

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user36: SISTER?

drbarbie: yes! He’s my YOUNGER twin brother!

logansargeant: the hell I am!

drbarbie: I HAVE PICTURE OF THE BIRTH CERTIFICATES YOU WET NOODLE

logansargeant: fake!

user36: ok that’s definitely a sibling relationship 😂

drbarbie: HE DID IT! P3!! CONGRATS LOGIE!

teammate1: woohoo! Go baby sargeant!

teammate2: congrats baby sargeant!

teammate3: could you feel us cheering for you baby sargeant?

teammate4: couldn’t be prouder baby sargeant!

logansargeant: not you guys too…

oscarpiastri: congrats man! A well deserved podium!

logansargeant: thanks brother!

user37: brother?!? dots are connecting again!

user38: oh give it up

alexalbon: great race today dude! Congrats!

logansargeant: thank you! You’ll be next!

williamsracing: Congrats Logan!

user39: he saw us shipping him with his sister and said hell no 😂😂

user40: right? Most definitely had to set the record straight!

danielricciardo: good job man!

charles_leclerc: great to share the podium with you!

maxverstappen1: good race!

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, alicepriv, landonorris, and 2,567,432 others

tagged: mclaren, landonorris

oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted today but we’ll come back stronger next week. Congrats on p4 landonorris and congrats to logansargeant on your first podium!

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user41: don’t worry about it Oscar! You’ll get it next week!

landonorris: thanks man! next week will be our week for sure!! papaya rules!

oscarpiastri: for sure! Papaya rules!

user42: it might not have been your week but that overtake lap 12 was INSANE

user43: right? Pretty sure I woke my dog up screaming

alicepriv: it was a good race babe. Glad to have been there to see it 🧡🧡

oscarpriv: you know I always love it when you can come to a race

alicepriv: and you know I always love watching you working for your dream

oscarpriv: 🧡

loganpriv: cheesy

alicepriv: 🖕🏻

alicepriv: anyway…

alicepriv: maybe I can get you to come to my job next? 😆😘

oscarpriv: your job at the universities? Yes. Your job in the field? No way in hell

logansargeant: great race brother! Taking notes on that overtake man

oscarpiastri: thanks Logan!

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, drbarbie, landonorris, and 3,728,899 others

tagged: drbarbie

oscarpiastri: you are the best thing that’s ever been mine

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Part 2

[arolesbianism]

Bad news guys I'm having thoughts abt that stupid bndori + sekai eternal gales au again. Anyways Ive come across the horrible realisation that everything adds up perfectly for Chu2 to be Bloom someone kill me please

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[locusfandomtime]

fake book covers based on Cub’s museum gift shop and the signs he posted with fake book titles! This was a lot of fun haha. I know there are more fake books, and now he’s getting signed books from hermits, so I plan on making more soon! May even make a Reddit account just to post these guys on the subreddit

design notes under cut!

The Diamond Pillar Saga: Hotguy(TM) Flies Again - this title evoked such a visceral image of something you’d find in a Scholastic book fair so I went for sort of pre-teen superhero action novel, the kind with a bunch of pictures and stupid chapter titles. I imagine in-universe Scar is trying to sell as much Hotguy merch as possible so whilst he has stuff for the adults (shirtless calendars) he’d also have comic books and novels for the kids. There’s a concorp logo because I like to think the Hotguy brand is owned by concorp and it was just a cool touch

Grian’s Theory of The Mind - have you ever seen books on like psychology and breaking habits and behaviour, that kind of stuff? They always look like this. There’s a yellow background, a simple abstract design, a bunch of book awards/reviews, and a single sentence hook. This one was the easiest and most fun to design!

Joe Hills: Transformative Poems - this was based on the “Joe Hills Poetry Corner”. Transformative poems is from “transformative works” meaning… fanfiction basically. Joe has written fanfic before and I thought an Iliad/Hermit crossover would be something he’d do. Joe made the cover himself so it has a dyed leather cover and a simple design. He tried to ask Cleo for a review so he could put one on the front but she was kinda mean about it and laughed at him so he wrote a fake one instead

Ren the King: A Complicated Legacy - this one had no explicit author but I decided Cleo made the most logical sense. Historical non-fiction books often have these B+W photo backgrounds with some dramatic, fancy text overtop, so I painted the Crastle and added then messed around with text. There’s a reduced sticker over Cleo’s name because this is Cub’s gift shop and he wouldn’t want to give her credit (but still wants to stock up his shop)

[gotham-daydreams]

i had a really random idea that activated a neuron in my head and wanted to share here if that's ok— neglected!reader and friend!reader crossover. increased angst potentials, increased relationship struggles.

idk if it's just me, but the cold knowledge and sudden realization that your family was only ever interacting with you to use you as a means of getting close to their original target (who i will be assuming is a friend of yours)? you should be feeling glad that they're finally, *finally* interacting with you, but it just makes you feel more sick. they talk to you, but never want to talk about *you,* if that makes sense, always their target. half-hearted attempts to try and be more discreet, but you can tell they really just want to probe out info about your friend from you. perhaps this even cements your belief that "oh. they're never going to care for me the way i used to care for them."?? im sick i will explode and become atoms for this hypothetical reader's sake. leaving them, and the family realization that in their own selfish goals, they lost something more valuable. only makes sense for them to get it back.

but perhaps it can also be them originally them trying to again, use you as a bridge between said target, only to become more obsessed with you somewhere down the line of continuous interactions. idk lots of thoughts here i am happy big and mentally normal about these giant group of costumed losers !!

I am in love with this idea... especially because you can do it both ways (with the reader either being a part of the fam, or just a 'friend' of one of the Batfam members that they kinda forgot about until now)!

I'll go into Acquaintance! Reader later, so for now I'll focus more on this other neglected sib reader :]

Can you imagine how absolutely heartbreaking finding out that they're just talking with you to get something out of you, at first? Like, okay, maybe reader is suspicious at first, of course, because why the hell is the family starting to acknowledge their existence now? Was it something they did? Something that caught the family's attention? Etc., etc., but the point is that maybe with a little effort and too little time, they begin to have a little hope. They began to think that the family actually cares about them now.

Like yeah, sure, they kind of dismiss their questions when the reader tries to bring up the changes and why things couldn't be like this before, and have an odd habit of giving short answers and moving onto other topics concerning their friend when the reader, again, tries to press even a little bit more for answers or responses, but that's just how it is, right?

It's nothing personal... the reader knows that, and even if it hurts sometimes, it's nothing to worry about, right? Besides, they wanted this... didn't they? They wanted to be noticed, to finally have the family's attention, to have something and they're finally getting that! They should be happy, grateful even... and they are! But... is it so selfish to want more? To want the family and some of their siblings to even be a little interested in the things they do? Instead of just asking about their friend all the time?

Maybe the reader even gets a little jealous, envious, even, as this goes on but I can see them being content with little. Ultimately a little scared to ruin a good thing, and to ruin this for themselves... even if it definitely doesn't feel as good as they had hoped it would be oh so long ago.

... And then, they figure out the truth. Either from overhearing some members of the family talking about it, other friend of theirs points it out/puts that idea into their head, or they just... notice it. Hell, all three of those things could happen - with the reader knowing on some subconscious level that things aren't as they seem and that the family is definitely trying to get something out of them (a thought they had at first, that didn't fully go away), and another friend of theirs (that the fam isn't going crazy over) sort of points out that it looks like the batfam is just using them to get to whoever (and maybe the reader dismisses it at first, but that moment only further plants that idea into their head), and the reader keeps noticing all of these little things from that moment and onward... only for everything to come crumbling down once they finally overhear that conversation.

Once they hear some of the members discussing what they should ask the reader, how they should go about it, and hell - maybe for the irony of it all, maybe even joking about the reader finding out about their little 'ploy'. Even going so far as to laugh and say how the reader will never find out because they're too stupid, too desperate to even really entertain the idea to its fullest. How even if they do think so... well, they can just string poor little reader along and distinguish the idea before it even becomes a problem. How they could use that to just further rope the reader in, and make them feel guilty until they forget all about the very idea of the family just using them... further securing themselves to be one of - if not the only - closest people to the reader, and therefore, much closer to their fixation.

It's... more than just heartbreaking for the reader, but not quite world shattering either. It's some odd in between feeling that hurts all the same. They knew, sure, and they always had the suspicion- but it fucking hurts.

Somehow, knowing hurts more in that moment - just the reader knowing and having their suspicions confirmed hurts worse than anything they've ever felt. It doesn't quite feel like betrayal, or maybe it does - they aren't sure, but at the same time that description doesn't feel quite right. Though that's because they feel partially at fault. Like they did this to themselves, and they do feel guilty, but for only putting themself through this.

They should've known better. They should've listened to their gut. They should've never let this happen- they are at fault as much as the family is...

But can they fully blame themself? They got a glimpse of what it was like to be part of the family. A glimpse into the life they always wanted... could they really blame themself for taking that chance when they saw it? For trying to seize that opportunity even if it was never really there? Could they blame themselves for trying to look past all the signs, because they too wanted something out of it? Because they just wanted to be part of the family that badly, even if it was all a lie?

It hurts, and the reader leaves quietly. They don't burst into the room and confront everyone - no, they just walk away. Too consumed in their own grief and feelings to do much else besides that. I imagine that they don't even make it to their room, and hell, maybe one of the other Batfam members find them, but just looking at them makes the reader cry harder.

If they literally run away from the person, or not, is really up to interpretation at the moment, but either way they manage to find some alone time to themselves, and just... let it all out. The reader, in that moment, allows themself to grieve over the lose of a family they never had, and after all is said and done, I can imagine that they try to distance themselves- but are smart in how they do so.

The reader tries to get the family closer to their friend, while also limiting the amount of the the reader is actually around both the friend and the family. Basically just trying to put everyone in a position where they don't need a middleman - where the reader doesn't have to be involved anymore, and basically just... giving the reader an opportunity to truly distance themself from the family.

Sure, the reader might still try to hang out with the family's current fixation, but I can see them be willing to sacrifice time with that person just to further get away. It hurts to do it, and they don't want to, but they figure that, with enough time, once the family chills the fuck out, they'll hopefully be able to sort of go back to how things were. If not? Then... well, they'll just have to learn how to live with that, and they hope that their friend can forgive them.

Don't get me wrong, I could totally see the reader trying to find ways to get their friend out of the position, but the batfam is one tricky foe.. so they settle for what they can, but maybe they're still trying to do what they can. (Or maybe they think that this is the best course of action since... well, maybe they overheard some other talks afterwards? Who knows)

It could also be that, through the reader's attempt to leave, and them trying to eliminate themself from the equation entirely could be a huge turning point for the Batfam in terms of them turning yandere (aka, if they weren't yan before, they definitely are now. and those that are, are even worse than before). A real "you don't know what you had until it's gone" kinda deal, and it's gotta be hilarious to see the fam just scramble for something, and to kind of 'catch' the reader until they're truly gone... which, to add to the humor- the reader is probably already trying to move out of Gotham by that time LMAO

[sturniololuvz]

for your triplet sister one her making them play barbies with her when they were kids but chris and matt insisted to be action figures instead and nick was the only one who played with actual barbies

i hope this is what you mean !!! and thank you for the request!🩷

“Barbie’s V.S Superhero’s

Sturniolos x sister

warnings: none . really sweet fluff🩷

It was a normal Saturday afternoon in the Sturniolo house—well, as normal as it could be with three loud, chaotic brothers and their energetic four-year-old sister, Y/n.

The triplets were all lounging on the couch, half-watching TV when Y/n came stumbling into the living room, dragging a giant pink bin behind her. The sheer determination on her little face made Nick smirk.

“Guys,” Y/n said sweetly, batting her eyelashes. “Play Barbies with me?”

Nick instantly sat up, already reaching for the bin. “Oh, absolutely. Hand me a Barbie.”

Chris and Matt, however, exchanged a look.

“Uhhh,” Matt started, hesitating. “Can I be an action figure instead?”

Chris nodded quickly. “Yeah! I call Spider-Man!”

Y/n pouted, placing her tiny hands on her hips. “But it’s Barbie world! You can’t be Spider-Man.”

Chris gasped dramatically. “Okay, but hear me out. What if Spider-Man is visiting Barbie world? Huh? Ever think of that?”

Matt immediately grabbed another figure from the bin. “Then I’m Batman. Batman and Spider-Man go everywhere together.”

Nick rolled his eyes, already brushing out the hair of the Barbie he picked up. “You two are literally the worst. We’re playing Barbies, and you’re over here trying to turn it into a Marvel/DC crossover.”

Y/n giggled as she grabbed her own Barbie, placing her into a bright pink convertible. “Okay, but Batman and Spider-Man have to be nice in Barbie world.”

Chris scoffed, making his Spider-Man toy swing through the air. “Obviously. Spider-Man would never disrespect Barbie.”

Matt made Batman stand heroically. “Yeah, yeah. But Batman has one rule—he doesn’t ride in pink cars. He has the Batmobile.”

Y/n gasped. “No! Batman has to ride in the Barbie car!”

Chris burst out laughing. “Dude, she’s the boss. Batman’s getting in the pink convertible.”

Matt groaned, dramatically making his Batman action figure squeeze into the tiny pink car. “Fine. But I want it on the record that Batman is not happy about this.”

Nick snorted. “I think it’s a good look for him.”

The four of them sat cross-legged on the floor, fully immersed in Y/n’s Barbie world. Nick had his Barbie running a fashion show, while Y/n’s Barbie was a famous pop star on tour. Matt and Chris had their action figures act as Barbie’s bodyguards—though their version of “bodyguarding” involved a lot of unnecessary slow-motion fight scenes.

At one point, Matt made Batman do a backflip onto the Barbie Dreamhouse roof. “Batman has secured the area.”

Chris scoffed, holding up Spider-Man. “Uh, no he hasn’t. Spider-Man literally already checked the area. There were no threats.”

Matt turned to glare at him. “Uh, I don’t think so, dude. Batman is literally the best detective ever. He sees things Spider-Man doesn’t.”

Chris shook his head. “Are you kidding? Spider-Man has spidey-senses! He knew there were no threats before Batman even landed.”

Matt crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, Batman has gadgets, so he’s smarter.”

Chris let out a loud, offended gasp. “Did you just say Batman is smarter than Spider-Man?”

Y/n giggled, watching them with wide eyes. “Ohhh, so you think this is funny, Y/n?” Chris asked, turning to her.

Matt smirked. “Yeah? You like watching your big brothers argue?”

Y/n nodded enthusiastically, still giggling.

Nick rolled his eyes, grabbing his Barbie and making her wave at the action figures. “While you two are arguing about who’s the better superhero, Barbie is over here running a multi-million dollar company and going on world tours.”

Matt groaned. “Oh, great. Now Barbie thinks she’s better than Batman and Spider-Man.”

Chris smirked. “I mean, she kinda is. She has like 200 careers.”

Y/n clapped her hands. “Barbie is the best! And Batman and Spider-Man are best friends.”

Chris and Matt exchanged a long glance before sighing dramatically.

“Fine,” Matt grumbled, making his Batman action figure shake hands with Spider-Man. “Batman and Spider-Man are best friends.”

Chris sighed, making Spider-Man nod. “Yeah, yeah. And they both work for Barbie now, since apparently, she owns everything.”

Y/n squealed in delight, clapping her hands. “Yay! Now they can go on a Barbie adventure together!”

Nick smirked, flipping his Barbie’s hair over her shoulder. “That’s right. And they’re all going to the Barbie fashion show tonight, no arguments.”

Matt groaned but placed Batman in the tiny Barbie car. “This is the worst day of Batman’s life.”

Chris laughed, making Spider-Man dramatically sit in the passenger seat. “Spider-Man is just happy to be included.”

Y/n, still giggling, made her Barbie wave to them. “Okay! Now, everyone has to get dressed in their fancy outfits for the fashion show!”

Chris and Matt exchanged a look of pure horror.

Nick cackled, tossing them two tiny Barbie dresses. “Oh, you thought playing Barbies was bad? Now, your superheroes have to wear pink gowns.”

Chris groaned, while Matt dramatically flopped onto the floor. “This is a nightmare.”

But as Y/n giggled and continued playing, Chris and Matt couldn’t help but smile. Sure, playing Barbies wasn’t their usual way to spend a Saturday, but seeing their little sister so happy made it worth it.

Even if it meant Batman had to wear a pink sparkly dress.

[rei-ismyname]

Avengers and X-Men crossover 2024 is... really good

The Avengers show up to The Factory in force and Carol calls on Cyclops to stop hiding.

It's obviously a fakeout and they're here to play baseball. So nice to see zero punches thrown for cheap drama. Carol has a lot of X-Men history and it's wonderful to build on that.

Everyone is here and they're mingling like healthy adults. Beast is here and Storm isn't dead so I assume this takes place before Storm #2 and X-Men #7.

I LOVE this, but I can't help but shake my head that this kind of content isn't in an X-book. If you don't read Avengers #21, you'd have no idea about Magneto's ideological awakening or his current relationship with Wanda. Kinda feels like R-LDS should be solved here and now. Wanda built the mutant afterlife - she knows more about the Resurrection nitty gritty than anyone.

Quentin is still a jerk, no surprise there. Super cool to see Hank and Tony as friends.

They even meaningfully and earnestly engage with the existential nightmare and personal issues Hank is having.

This is satisfying. It doesn't sweep it under the bed - Tony offers his support but Hank's problems continue. Storm was Idie's headmaster for a good while. It's fantastic to call back to that and to Krakoa (though 'not fitting in' is not how I'd describe it.)

Faith and support, vulnerability.

The Dream discussed as a coherent position - an ideology that hasn't worked but implied to still have some value, tempered with hope and adaptability. Not just accepted as a nebulous code to live by or invoke in vague terms.

Lastly, Scott and Carol doing the leader thing. I do think Scott would be honest about the contagion, because it's a frame up, but whatever. Either way they're getting along. Carol says that there's not much difference between the X-Men and Avengers, that they should collaborate more.

She asks if she can count on him and he says yes. Just goes to show heroes don't need conflict to be interesting. What blows my mind is that this issue gives us so much of important things the X-Men book hasn't managed in 7 issues, and it's written by Jed Mackay! This is good stuff, so what's going on in the X-Line? I assume it's an editorial mandate because nothing else makes sense.

Avengers Assemble #4 is very elegant and fits so much into very little space. I finally feel like I get where the characters are at, that they live in a world with other people in it. Mackay writing both means he can do stuff like this, it'd just be good to get their development in their own book, you know?

[gracie-eilish]

Hii!💓

I saw your post about the Taylor Billie crossover and that’s such a cute idea!!!! I thought maybe you could write a fic inspired by seven. (smth about homophobic parents and reader goes to live with Billie. Like the bridge)

Please don’t feel pressured to write this xx

i think you should come live with me… and we could be pirates ✨🌿🌙🤍🪐

warnings: mention of homophobic parents, i tried to keep it as light and fluffy as i could!!it’s kinda long as well! i didn’t wanna break it into two parts lol!

an: thank you for the request!! i’m so sorry it took so long to get out😭😭 this song means a lot to me and my friends as i’m sure it does to a lot of people so i wanted it to be good!! i hope you like it!🫣🤞☺️

an: two fics in one day!! woo!! i’m working my way through requests and tryinggg to finish up some other long fics (my peachy babies i see you and it’s happening i promise!!) thank you as always for ur patience. also just wanted to say thanks for the love this last month!! it’s been almost a month since i started posting and i love it here:) anywhosies!! here’s seven.

august 13th, 6:57pm, Coopersburg, PA.

the babble of the creek beneath you, the squeaking of the tire swing, and the birds chirping created a melody, sweeter than any song billie had written before. and mixed with the sound of your sweet giggles, billie was sure she was in heaven.

the sun was starting to drift under the horizon giving the sky a gorgeous coral hue, mixed with a hint of violet and navy, but not too dark yet. the air was warm, like a fluffy blanket straight out of the dryer.

“billie!! you’re going too high!! i’m too scared to jump!!” you squealed, giggling furiously. your braids billie had done for you earlier flew behind you as billie pushed the swing again, sending you higher, making you feel like you were flying amongst the trees.

billie grabbed the rope, slowing down the swing so she could be level with you again. you looked over at her before grabbing her arm and pulling her closer, before sealing the gap between you with a kiss. billie wrapped her arms around your waist, melting into your arms, only pulling away when you both smiled into the kiss. you tasted like the sweet tea you had been drinking, your mason jar now sat forgotten on a rock nearby.

“hi mama,” she whispered onto her lips, making you blush furiously and scrunch your nose. she pecked your nose before maneuvering you on the swing so she could sit too, pulling you onto her lap. one arm draped around your waist and the other holding the swings rope.

“baby can i talk to you about something?” billie started, a nervous edge to her voice. you turned your head, a curious yet concerned look in your eye, nodding for her to continue.

“how umm… how are your parents lately?” she held her breath waiting for you to answer.

your parents. how you loved them dearly.. until they stopped loving you. they said they still did, but their words and actions and beliefs said differently.

a few years back you had innocently asked your mom about how she knew she liked boys. your mom just looked at you funny, saying that every girl likes boys… there’s no question about it. that’s how god made girls. girls grow up and fall in love with boys, and become wives, and mothers, and that’s how it goes.

sensing her edge you backed off, retreating to your room that night feeling more confused than ever. if you weren’t supposed to like girls… then why did you feel this way?? why did your heart beat faster around them, and why do your hands get so sweaty near them, and why do you get nauseous thinking about being a man’s wife one day, but melt into a puddle thinking about being a woman’s wife one day….

falling in love with a woman, sleeping next to a woman, holding her, touching her, kissing her, making love to her…. walking down the aisle to her, holding her hand while bringing your babies into the world with her, raising those children with her, growing old with her…

as you got older it became harder to hide. it was obvious to anyone with eyes. especially after you met billie. i mean who wouldn’t fall in love with her?

you’re parents found out about you and billie when they caught you kissing one night out back. you had told them that you two were gonna go look at stars, and planets, and you did… just the ones in her eyes instead of the sky.

because they “still had love for you,” they sent billie home and had a long talk with you about your choices. and though you don’t try to recall them, you’ll never forget the things your parents said to you that night. you hid in your room and called billie panicking. you didn’t want to love anyone else, you couldn’t…

so you and billie continued dating in secret. only meeting up in secret locations and having perfect alibis if your parents caught on. while you still lived at home, and luckily your parents didn’t suspect a thing, you cried every night. you wanted so badly to escape, to be free from them. to be free…

“umm.. they’re good i guess. getting older sooo you know. they’re getting weird with me growing up and all that i guess. i’m looking forwards to moving out one day though.” billie nodded and gave your waist a squeeze before setting her chin on your shoulder.

you let out a watery laugh, “my mom keeps trying to set me up with all the church guys. even if i wasn’t gay they’re sooo just not cute.” billie raised her eyebrows and laughed with you.

“really? and what do you find cute missy?” billie teased. you played this game a lot. one of you would describe what you wanted in a girlfriend… and it was just you describing the other.

“wellllllll, i love a girl who’s kind and funny, and she would have these big blue eyes, like little sea crystals, and dark hair that compliments her skin so perfectly. and the cutest little button nose you could ever imagine, and it’s decorated with teensy little freckles. and she would have pink pillowy lips that are impossible not to kiss. ooh and if she could have little dimples that would be a great bonus. WAIT omg and she would sing.” you finished with a smile that said “ta da!!” billie smiled back, cheeks flushed before kissing your own cheek.

“mmm i love you to the moon billie eilish pirate baird o’connell,” you sighed, leaning back into her.

“and i love you to saturn y/f/n y/m/n o’connell,” she murmured back, nose grazing your jaw. you sat back up in shock, turning to face her with the biggest smile on your face. you were totally speechless though, trying to get out a thought.

“y/n?”

“yes?”

“i think you should come live with me… and we could be pirates,” she added playfully.

“then you won’t have to cry… or hide in the closet,” she said softly. your smile faltered a bit, not in disappointment but in shock. you knew billie’s family loved you, and you were old enough to be on your own.

“really?” you whispered. billie nodded with a small smile.

“run away with me lovey. pack your jellycats and a sweater. we’ll move you away from there forever.”

you practically pounced onto her, kissing her so fiercely.

“we can’t tell anyone. other than your family of course.”

“cross my heart, won’t tell no other.” billie promised, crossing over her heart with her finger.

your love would last so long…

years later…

august 22nd, 6:48 pm, Los Angeles, CA

you and billie were laid out among the weeds in the grass, billie sat with her hands behind her, while your back was to her front, sitting in between her legs.

“you know, i still remember hiding in that field back in PA. i can still picture you in the trees… high in the sky on that old swing.”

you hummed a small laugh, closing your eyes at the memory. your little hiding spot all those years ago. you now both lay in a similar spot, near your home in LA. after living with Billie’s family for a few years, the two of you moved out together to your own place.

“mama!!” you opened your eyes at the little voice.

“mama look!! im a pirate!!” your little baby boy, not so little anymore, had one of billie bandanas tied on his head and a stick in his hand as his sword. he showed off his best pirate poses making you and billie giggle.

“buddy you are the best pirate out there!!” billie said to him, fixing the much too big bandana on his little head.

“do you think sissy will wanna be a pirate?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

your hand went to your baby bump where “sissy” resided.

“you know buddy, i’m not sure yet. but i’m sure she would love to,” you said, softly caressing his little face. he smiled before running back to his spot, continuing his pirate adventure.

as the two of you watched your little boy play around, billie leaned down to press kisses to your cheek, your eyes closing in total bliss, and she brought her own hand to your growing bump.

“i love you to the moon mrs. o’connell,” she whispered into your ear. the name still making you blush after all this time.

“and i love you to saturn.”

your love would last so long…

✨🌿🌙🤍🪐

[shepherds-of-haven]

my god. i just realized that blade's brother is called gladius (the type of weapon) and not gladiolus (the type of flower). LIKE OH THAT MAKES SO MUCH MORE SENSE. i've been following the game for over a year now and i'm embarrassed to say that i saw that name and just... fully accepted that blade's parents' naming ethos just jumped from delicate flower to deadly weapon between kid one and kid two. like i didn't even question it lmao, i saw it and was just like 'huh, kinda weird but that kinda checks out'. i need to like start actually paying attention to the words on screen lmaoo

Haha, this is an understandable mixup, the two words are extremely similar and I believe gladiolus is just the diminutive of gladius--aka 'little sword' or 'sword lily': the flower does get its name from the weapon, so understandable why there'd be some crossover! It's not as bad as the reader who got Ebert confused with Blade, or Caine confused with Chase! 😂

[abyssembraced]

Cutting through the fabric of the Dream Realm was a far more difficult task when one could not use their Dream Nail. Fortunately, however, dreams were not so different from nightmares, and once given enough time to better harness their growing power, Friend Grimmchild had been able to rescue Ghost from their accidentally-made prison. The escape also brought about a bittersweet parting, though; rather than follow Ghost back into the waking realm, the young nightmare god had decided that it was time to part ways and seek out the Troupe they had inherited from their father. Thus, when Ghost crossed between the two realms, they did so alone.

Upon returning to the physical world, Ghost had once again found themself within the interior of the Black Egg Temple. They weren't quite sure how long they had been trapped in the other realm, but considering the chamber's emptiness (Sister Hornet had already left, it seemed, but at least that likely meant she was okay), they could guess that a decent amount of time had already passed.

They had sacrificed much in order to defeat the forgotten light, the greatest of which being the shell that had contained the Void within their body up until now. In the past, such a thing would have spelled certain death, but their Heart of Void allowed them the control to manifest themself in their true form, without the need for their old vessel. …Though it was certainly still an inconvenience to be without it, they did have to admit.

Their first thought upon returning to Hallownest had been to visit Dirtmouth. The town was only a short walk away from the temple, after all, and was home to many of the bugs they considered friends. They were looking forward to seeing everyone again! That was the reason they'd wanted to come back, after all.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that the townsfolk did not recognize them in their new form. Friend Elderbug, who had previously been so kind to them on their journey, cried out in terror upon seeing them, clutching his delicate flower close to his chest as if hoping it would protect him. Zote had lept toward them, pointing his useless 'Life Ender' at them and raving about slaying them like the mighty knight he supposedly was. ...Actually, perhaps Zote had not been any different from usual.

Regardless, that was why they now found themself wandering the winding tunnels of Deepnest. During their travels, they vaguely recalled encountering a Mask Maker who resided somewhere within the caverns. With any luck, that person would be able to craft a new vessel for them to channel their Void into, allowing them to once again take on their old appearance! Then they would be able to return to their friends, and all would be well.

The problem with that plan, though, was that Ghost could not remember exactly where the Mask Maker dwelled. They knew they were somewhere in Deepnest, but the region was one of the largest in the kingdom, and was full of twisting paths that made it incredibly easy to get lost. It also didn't help that they had no access to any of their maps at the moment. Yet another consequence of being in this Shade-like form.

At least with the Infection gone, Deepnest was a much safer place to be in. Of course, that wasn't to say it was harmless, nor anything of the sort. Surviving, hungry Dirtcarvers still lunged at them whenever they passed over where the creatures lay burrowed underground, and the parasitic Corpse Creepers took full advantage of the dead husks that had previously been infected. Still, compared to the other times they had ventured through the area, when the Infection was still rampant, the amount of times they were attacked by vicious creatures had certainly lessened this time around.

Sometime in the midst of their wandering, Ghost overheard footsteps that were unlike the usual scuttling of Deepnest's denizens. They turned around to face the source of the noise, only to come face-to-face with... Themself?

It was another Vessel. A sibling. Another who had managed to survive the Abyss and persist through the Infection. Through their Void Heart, Ghost could feel the flow of Void that composed the other, just as it did themself. They may be in Deepnest, but this was certainly no Nosk.

Yet, it was strange. This Vessel's shell looked identical to their discarded one, save for the large cracks running down the centre of it. Not only that, but within the Void they could detect an additional power thrumming through the other. Something similar, perhaps related, but different from any other Void creature they had encountered before. Something more. They weren't sure what it was, or why this particular sibling of theirs was unique in having it.

One curiosity could only be investigated at a time, however. And one question was easier to ask than others, as someone with no mouth nor voice to speak with.

So, as the other Vessel stepped toward them, Ghost lifted one of their primary tendrils to point at them. First they gestured to the other's mask, and then pointed at their own head. They then repeated the movements a couple more times, as if to ask, “Why do you have my face?”

starter for @scale-tippers

Ever since the defeat of that Old Light, the state of Hallownest has been… calm. Some strong creatures still roam the kingdom, but the level of danger is nothing compared to back when the Infection was running rampant. Thus far none of the new travelers passing through have caused issues, so things were overall uneventful.

So when rumors of a phantom reached them, Ghost's curiosity was immediately piqued. The people of Dirtmouth had seen something strange. As described by Elderbug, it was a "ghastly shadow." Frightening in the eyes of the townsfolk, apparently.

Seeing as they had nothing better to do, the little knight decided to venture into the kingdom, to find this so-called phantom. Is it a threat that needs to be removed? It would be unfortunate if their friends were harmed by it…

They carefully scoured Hallownest's regions as best they could, gradually working their way towards its depths. Nothing out of the ordinary had caught their attention yet, but they had a few ideas as to where something deemed "frightening" could have come from…

That train of thought eventually lead them into Deepnest. They crept onward through the vicious region, Pure Nail at the ready… Finally, something unusual came into view.

Before their eyes, hovering above the path, was a living blot of darkness. A head that was shaped much like their own, eyes that glowed a bright white, and a "cloak" of shadowy tendrils… It definitely could fit the bill of what Dirtmouth's residents saw.

A Shade. Why would one be in Deepnest -- or have gone to Dirtmouth, for that matter? The Abyss may be open now, but their siblings had mostly seemed content to rest there…

In any case, they doubt the other is a threat to them. Sheathing their nail, Ghost would curiously approach what they assumed to be a Sibling. What are they doing here…?