#god I love the absurdists

[quantumpoem]

The best thing about this is it would actually *enhance* the themes of the play. Who else to best represent the idea of meaningless, inexorable fate than a literal puppet? At that point they're not even people reciting their lines toward the inevitable conclusion of the play, but vessels for someone else's recitation. I love it I want to see it immediately

Pick a live-action movie. Keep one human actor; everyone else is played by muppets.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, in two variations:

1. Keep both title roles human on the grounds that they’re really a single composite character; Kermit the Frog is cast as the Player King for maximum meta fuckery.

2. The Player King stays human; cross-cast with Sesame Street and make the title roles Bert and Ernie.

[applebunch]

"This new and trustworthy companion is the crux of it, I think. Obviously, that’s not you. But I’ve got this mysterious shadow, right? The lady with the camera." like hmmmm maybe me and the lady who's been stalking me for weeks can be friends one day! :D

i literally don't even care that he was right. WHAT THE CRAP! bro someone you don't know's been taking pictures of you for weeks and all you can think about is friendship???????????? my little pony character.

might be a little too soon but like it's no wonder he got kidnapped. michael's whole entire evil boss is like "hey michael wanna come with me into my secret office" and michael's like "ooh boy secret office? sounds fun! :D" because he wanted to dig up some Neat Intel about his evil boss.

but what michael didn't anticipate.

is that his buff-as-hell evil boss.

would do LITERALLY ANYTHING?

ANYTHING AT ALL?

[carmenized-onions]

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

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

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

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

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

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s snowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want the old one?”

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

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

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

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

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

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

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

“...And you want that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So where should I send flowers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Microgreens.” Says Syd. 

“Yes. Do less of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cicero.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

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

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

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

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

“You got somethin’ better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A lot high.” He corrects.

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

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

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

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

“Does he now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your options are fucked.”

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

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

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A short amount of time, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Adamu?!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

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

She sighs, “Trying to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

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

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

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crime is bad in January.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yessir.”

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

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

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds fucked.”

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

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

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

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

“Tricks?”

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

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

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

He’s the best? 

He’s the best. 

He’s the best. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d agree.”

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

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

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

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

“Come to dinner with us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ofswordsandpens]

I've enjoyed episode 3 the most so far, but I think the show is still struggling to find a good balance between taking itself seriously and the absurdist humor that RR writes with. My main takeaways:

The Fight Scenes (or Lack Thereof?)

It seems very peculiar to me that the show is just speed running through its battle scenes. Again, it feels very much like the product of Disney trying to sanitize anything that's too extreme?

The trio fleeing from the kindly ones in the book ended with Percy taking control of the bus and then crashing it. It explodes. They lose all of their stuff (money, food). In the show, they simply bail out the back window. No true panic. No tension. Just, okay :) we're leaving now :)

The Medusa Scene. I'll speak more to this later, but in terms of the fight we get to see... well we get to see nothing. Apparently this fight required us to view it through the lens of the invisibility cap (ie. not at all),

I understand this show is intended for a younger audience, but the books are as well. Even the movies, which are pg, came up with better ways to show things without necessarily showing things. As a result, it feels like anything that might induce the slightest bit of tension or fear are sanded down and its honestly doing such a disservice to the books and the audience.

Medusa

I actually really liked this portrayal of Medusa. The 1950s housewife vibe landed well for me. And I loved the actress's voice -- very soft and soothing but always sounding as if she were just about to cry.

Also, I really liked her dialogue. Her digs at Athena and Poseidon were perfectly tragic.

That being said, I really prefer the trio's arrival to the emporium in the book. In the books, they've been wandering the woods and are lost and exhausted and hungry because of the battle/bus crash where they've lost all of their stuff. It almost feels like the emporium popping up "out of nowhere" was more of it finding them.

Meanwhile in the show, Grover finds it through scent on a satyr path and they immediately know its Medusa, which imo takes out so much of the fun of it all??? In the books, they dont know. Grover's just like, freaking the ever living fuck out, and clearly Percy and Annabeth have let him take sole custody of the shared brain cell, cause they're more concerned about getting some food than anything else

Just... RIP dumbass shenanigans

And honestly, I'm not really sure what necessitated the change here in the show (of them not being tricked). It would have been one thing if they were going to change Medusa entirely to not wanting to harm them at all, but imo, I think its arguable/evident that show Medusa was looking for an excuse to petrify Annabeth and Grover (at minimum) regardless of anything.

Honestly, I would have had the show loosely play it out as: book arrival (they dont know its Medusa), keep the dumbass energy and banter, the trio figures out it Medusa while they're eating, Medusa is the more sympathetic version we see in the show, regardless it still ends with the battle.

Also, I do mourn the book battle. The panic and absurdity is just handled better imo. Annabeth shoving them off the bench, Grover flopping all over the place with the shoes but actively getting a good few hits in, Percy having to use to the reflection to behead her... the #TeamWork was emphasized a little more there to me.

Characterization

I think the show is absolutely nailing certain parts of the characters.

They've gotten Percy's anger and his derision towards the gods down. But, I think they're actually underscoring some of his, idk, sincerity? His kindness? It was the line "she met a pinecone's fate" that just rang off to me. While undoubtedly funny, it's just such a stark difference from his reaction to Thalia's story in the books, where he was unsettled by her fate and felt a sincere sympathy for her. The line in the show I assume is meant to criticize the gods, but still, it feels like it comes at the expense of the sensitivity that he has.

They've gotten Annabeth's bluntness, intelligence, pride, and superiority down cold. No question about it. But I feel like they just need to let her be more of a 12yo kid?

Like. In canon she and Percy banter and argue over the silliest of things. She plays hacky sack with Grover and Percy. She blushes and hyperventilates when Luke interacts with her. Episode 3 is like the first time we've gotten to see her do something remotely childish (buying all that candy) and I'm just dying for more of that!! She's not the "mom" of the group and she has her canon dumbass moments. I'm hoping more of this is captured moving forward. They've gotten a good start on the banter, but let Annabeth be more silly! Cause she is!

(Absolutely none of my personal qualms about the characterization are Walker or Leah's fault. They've done amazing. It's the writing/directing I'm side-eyeing).

OH! And I'm sorry but Percy being like "Annabeth we're going to bury medusa with your hat on" would have never ever flown with Annabeth. In no world.

But Grover eating them up at the end? Iconic. Good for him.

[doctorwhoisadhd]

i’ve been seeing ur blaseball posts for a while now and i have to say i have No earthly idea what it is. is it a webcomic? a band?? a sport??? pls give me a crash course on this seemingly cool thing

well shes dead forever unfortunately (riv) BUT blaseball was an absurdist baseball sim that u watched in ur browser, basically like if fantasy football was simultaneously massively multiplayer AND an ARG and also completely fucking insane. it was the best because it ran at all hours of the day and was so so fucking insane and spawned a LOT of memes and fanworks especially art and music! one of the best fan communities for fan music that has maybe ever existed if not The best. ur experience of it was largely filtered thru the team u followed (mine was the hawaiʻi fridays)

here are some blaseball sites for u

blaseball roundups from the youtube, i would recommend starting here itll give u the cliff notes And the vibe. these were done in character, the anchor is a guy who exists in the blaseball universe, also later on they started to be Plot

sibr faq <- this will probably be more helpful but do the roundups first because itll throw u into the lore (and while im at it heres sibr aka the society for internet blaseball research but most of that will. probably be unintelligible. when stuff makes no sense consult the wiki. or ask a fan)

the wiki, where u can read about history and the players and teams and such

BEFORE <- this is where you can still to this day watch old games!!! i love u so much before thank you sibr for allowing me to relive the beautiful game that we are all love (sobbing crying throwing up)

the garages bandcamp <- by far the largest of the fan bands (though there was also the park park rangers and the hades tigers and the los angeli juxebox) there is so much music on here. the majority of it was made in the span of like a year and a half. i got music on there! i recommend starting with away games or blattle of the blands or reunion tour or one of the world tours, they have the widest variety of vibes and will help u learn about most of the teams (im not biased <- guy who has a couple songs in there)

theres also sites like reblase and blaseball-reference and such but those are just catalogues of old data i wouldnt think youd want to trawl thru those as much. theyre probably accessible via sibr anyway

also frankly just ask fans to tell you stories, go in the tag on here and just go in random peoples inboxes. youll pull up some fantastic stuff that way. blaseball was so active and alive and changing and no two people had the exact same experience of it. and god there will always be stories. we will always be telling stories

rest in violence blaseball. i will always love you and i will always miss you and it will never stop

[up-side-in-side-out]

I mean this with nothing but love but like genuinely how did u even come up with that Lorde plot??? 😭😭😭😭

God this most recent chap was so funny man, my fav scene was Elf Kyle and Kenny dancing together. That was absolutely adorable and I’d love to see some art of that

So excited for the canon plots now(and all the universes rlly) keep up the great work man 👍

Gonna be honest, I don’t really remember. I’m pretty sure it was a late night chat with my sister about drag in South Park. I love absurdist comedy so we were probably chatting about that, and the Lorde idea spawned from there. Shrug.

So glad you enjoyed the chapter. I drew the Kenny & Kyle moment for you! I can promise there will be more cute scenes with the kids in the future.

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

sorry if you've covered this before but what do you think of the humans are space fae tag/ the idea of like, humans bringing their courts and complex law into alien spaces?

I think that the idea of humans bringing complex law into things is so funny because 100% other alien cultures would be confused by half of the social niceties and weirdly specific laws because duh, that's common sense who would do that? Until they learn there is a precedent for its existence. Like in Cali it's illegal to carry ice cream in your back pocket, which seems out of pocket until you learn the context- which is that cattle theives used to use it to lure cows out of pasture. Then it makes perfect sense Only Because someone did something so uniquely fucked up that their actions now warrant a law to stop copy cats.

Alien: why are you specifically not allowed to nuke the whole world and cause the apocalypse? Is that not common sense??

Human: oh you'd certainly fuckin think, wouldn't ya?!

But some constraints would be absolute nonsense. Like why the fuck DO we shake hands? And why is a firm grip so important when we do it?? Why are we so insulted when others misgender our pets?

And don't get me started on pop culture references! Aliens don't understand 'Beam me up, Scotty!", or "thicker than a snicker", and by God would the absurdist humor be so mind boggling to understand from an outside perspective!

Anyways I love humans are space fae, but I never had a solid enough idea of what exactly I found so fun when I was haso posting, thanks for the ask!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

"if you cant make a joke about a giant evil fish god, you dont understand comedy" they would sooo get along

"are you really telling me that susy homemaker started spouting a death prophecy and you just packed her bags and sent her on her dream vacation?" "i. dont. remember! and even if i did, what does it matter. we have bigger problems. that wasnt just a death prophecy, sis, that was doomsday talk. the end of all things. and i dont know about you but i dont really look forward to returning to the primordial abyss. i dont really like being more than a 4 hour flight from paris. we've wasted enough time, we need to get this situation under control"

begrudgingly dragged to the good side bc too much of a hedonist to let earth be destroyed. i think matska and missy have spent more than an evening together. i think they meet up semi-regularly to get away from the tedium of evil business and hang out for a long weekend with someone who gets it

[butchhamlet]

are there any shakespeare retellings you recommend? i really enjoy retellings but it's also difficult to find ones that like. actually understand the source material... i've read your novella duodecimal and really liked it btw! excellent take on twelfth night :-)

THANK YOU SO MUCH WAH... yes, i can recommend some retellings! i keep intending to make a big post with my recs, actually, but there are so many out there that i haven't read yet... so for now here's an incomplete list:

a thousand acres by jane smiley: the first one that came to my mind seeing this ask. it's a retelling of lear set on an american farmstead, and the adaptation is done beautifully and smoothly--it's just distinct enough from OG Lear that you can judge it as a book on its own but also as a lear retelling. and it's sooooo good. it starts a little slow, but the character work is so excellent and it almost made me cry (i will note that there's a pretty hefty cw on this one but... saying what it is is technically spoilers? but feel free to send another ask or message if you want to know up-front)

the last true poets of the sea by julia drake: books that made me have to turn my camera off in zoom class so i could bawl properly. books written for me specifically. this is a loose YA retelling of twelfth night (looser than some of the other retellings on this list) and it's like. perfect. the teenage dialogue actually sounds like teenagers. every emotional beat clubbed me over the head. the love triangle is present--and done really well; it's not present for drama but because sometimes being a teenager is confusing--but more than that this is a book about the relationship between violet and her sibling, and about mental health, and god it makes me CRAZY. also girls kiss in this one

rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead by tom stoppard: i mean. i think most people into shakespeare know r&gad. but in case you haven't read it yet, it's an absurdist play from the point of view of rosencrantz and guildenstern and it's absolutely fucking brilliant. not sure what else to say about this; you've really just gotta read it

teenage dick by mike lew: another play, this one on the modern side--a retelling of richard iii set in a high school, focusing explicitly on disability issues. kind of more a reimagining than a retelling, honestly, but i really like the exploration of r3's themes and also it's fucking hysterical. although i will say there's a kind of jarring tonal shift in this one near the end, so don't go to it for something 100% comedic

american moor by keith hamilton cobb: okay this isn't exactly a retelling but if you've ever read othello you have to read it. you just have to. please god if you've ever read a shakespeare PLEASE. it's a monologue from the perspective of a black man trying out for the role of othello, half-resigned to being pigeonholed into playing that specific role in a very specific way as directed by a white director, but also half-chafing against that resignation, and also exploring the complexities of loving shakespeare as a black man, and it's soooooo so good

exit, pursued by a bear by e.k. johnston: this one is kind of cheating because it's not really a retelling, in that it has next to nothing to do with the winter's tale except that there is a hermione character and a leontes character and a paulina character. i still think it's a very very well-done YA book, though, and one of the only ones i've read that deals head-on with abortion

foul is fair by hannah capin: okay, i will admit i read this one some years ago when i was more into YA, so i'm not sure i would still go crazy over it now, but the plot of this book is that the modern lady macbeth character gets assaulted by a guy at a party and decides to kill everyone who let that happen. and then she does. and idk i read it in two days it felt like being on crack

the wednesday wars by gary schmidt: this one is DEFINITELY cheating, because this isn't a retelling of anything. but if you like shakespeare and you're open to reading historical fiction about a kid in the 60s using shakespeare as a lens through which to understand the chaos of his life (from the vietnam war to his school crush)... it's so good. it made me nearly sob. beautiful book

i'm also a fan of ryan north's shakespeare choose-your-own-adventure books, but those aren't exactly retellings and also the humor will probably not work for everyone. but i like em <3

and finally, i would be remiss not to shout out the fact that @suits-of-woe wrote an INCREDIBLE retelling of the two gentlemen of verona that, like, redeemed the fact that that play exists. if you've read that play and you thought, "wow, i wish this were explicitly homoerotic, or not a rape apologia, or good in any way," you will LOVE macy's book. unfortunately it isn't fucking published yet but WITH YOUR HELP--

[false-cowboy]

Do you have any litrpg recs?

OH BOY DO I

I will attempt to give little descriptions but I'm not the best at writing so if nothing else I hope the names pique your interest! This post will be more personal opinion than direct plot summary, though if you'd like I can add those too

Noobtown: Humor is a bit high school boy especially in this first one, but it definitely gets some full body cackles outta me. Though this is a comedy series supposedly, it knows how to tug at your heart strings with some genuinely good characters and an interesting break of the system surrounding the book itself. More than anything, this shits Fun. It gets really interesting, Shart the demon is a pathetic mound of anger issues, Jim’s name is the equivalent of a dog’s in this world, all hail Badgalor king of the badgers, fuck the fecking puma forest.

Chaos Seeds: Classic of the genre, though definitely dated and the series degrades with the more recent books. Very nice magic system, one of the better uses I've seen, and the characters are notably very colorful/fun. Good fights and damn graphic, isn't afraid to be gruesome though there is a beating heart of humanity through the series I personally enjoy

Dungeon Crawler Carl (mix of LitRPG and apocalyptic dungeon elements, what it says on the tin): one of the best, and I mean BEST of this genre in my opinion. extraordinarily dark and horrifically funny. This shit will depress you as you giggle at it. But its just so damn good with some really nice underlying as well as overt commentary. More gorgeous character writing though here it's all Carl and the beautiful Princess Dount (his show winning, talking, cat whom deserves the universe in her paws) all the way. Very absurdist humor by the by, if that's your thing

Ascend Online (town builder litrpg): I mainly love this one for something that happens I think at the end of the first book though it might be the second. It sort of flips the magic system against our hero in a wonderfuly monstrous way. This one is Very Big, and honestly a little boring at times. But the game mechanics and magic system are drooling off of the page, begging to be thought about. Our main character is smart and resourceful, as a veteran of video games he capitalizes his knowlage for a satisfying build. If you’re really into game mechanics this shit was MADE for you, it is also just plain interesting. Good ideas and good fight scenes to go around for everyone! And mainly I just consider it a bit boring because I listened to the audiobook and the narrator read off the Entire Status Page ever like chapter which, if you're an avid LitRPG reader, you’ll understand the pain involved in such a thing

He Who Fights With Monsters: Another insanely long book, another absolute banger. While personally I'm not a fan of the series as it progresses, the first one is a full experience all on its own, lightning in a bottle to me. The main character is one of the best I’ve read about, the magic system is deliciously unique, the side characters are memorable as hell, but most of all I adore the worldbuilding in HWFWM SO fucking much. I have like full posts thirsting after it GOD. I could sit here and just talk. This is one of the best on the list to me, right up there with Dungeon Crawler Carl; even better in the side character department

Ritualist (The Completionist Chronicles): This one’s strengths are a surprising mix of absurdist comedy and a somewhat well thought out magic system. The writing is,,, Not The Best especially compared to some others, but it was a fun and very quick read, especially compared to some others on this list. a popcorn turn your brain off read

System Apocalypse (While most LitRPG exist in fantasy worlds, this one is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi vibe): This is another short one. It takes place in Canada and the main character is a ball of severe anger issues and angst, he has a very cool motorcycle and kicks hella ass. It’s great. His companion is top tier as well, there may or may not be a hot space elf prince involved. If you don't like romance you’re still good though because there isn’t any since John is a pussy ass bitch. Sorry, sorry, I'm trying to be fair and balanced. It's good! John is definitely a flawed individual, I think people often miss a lot of the little nuances in his character and write him off as petulant and pissed (to be fair, he is) but to me at least there's a bit more going on. Even if he can be genuinely irritating to read about

And finally, my two favorite series... and guilty pleasures

The Good Guys: A quintessential barbarian. Think of a barbarian character. Boom. There it is. That’s our man Montana Coggshall. this series is my version of embarrassment exposure therapy, Montana is constantly being humiliated and nothing good ever happens to him. But Also, this is not a sad or angsty or dark series at all. Its fun and light and god are the fights amazing. a fantasy romp to its core. Charming and delicious and fun and action packed to the gills.

The Bad Guys: A quintessential rouge. Think of a rogue character. Boom. There it is. That’s our man Clide Hatchett. This series has a style and comedy and charm to i cannot physically understate and there are So Many genuinely clever moments

there are so many characters that fuck around with morality and right/wrong and different view points that make the world feel so lived in

Everything from plumbing to lumberjacks is explored and given loving attention.

Reading it feels like coming home, I honestly don't care that the plot has turned into side quests and atm the side characters haven't gotten enough time in the spot light

The main character and fucking sheer amazing awkward kind conflicted energy of his dialogue, I've developed a connection to Eric ugland's style of writing further than I thought and I can't get enough of this shit. Also every problem Clide Hatchett has is solved with some sort of fucking batshit way I Adore

He's the guy who used a dagger that could travel through liquid to travel through a guys stomach and out the other side. Did I mention how gorey these books are? Because Yeah. I adore Clide Hatchet, my favorite character to ever be written in any place ever. He walks into places he absolutely shouldn't be, gets called elf boy, kicks everybody's ass while simultaneously being the most awkward and uncoordinated mess elvenly possible, then leaves. He is in the palace throne room profusely apologizing to the servants for getting dirt on the floor and beating the shit out of the king, he is at the altar of your wedding punching you in the face and then turning around and tripping on his dress, he is calling himself a hero before robbing a home blind. And also he keeps on shoving acid globs down people's throats and managing to do that while maintaining pure silly little guy energy is genuinely character writing talent. He's perfect. Yes it is very dorky.

Eric Ugland (who wrote both the Good Guys and Bad Guys series) has this way of writing, this STYLE I cannot properly articulate how much I find myself in love with it. though I will warn you I'm definitely bias, since I've been following both of these series almost since conception my perception could be entirely skewed by nostalgia

[tipsygnostalgy]

"It was never that serious," said Rose Lalonde calmly. — a deranged rant on update rose + philosophy

now that rose has officially hopped onto the "nothing matters" track of things i'm inclined to believe faux-absurdism is a sleeping agent in the strilondian neuroticism paradigm moreso than a real plot point but yeah anyway i have mixed feelings

on one hand i can definitely see why people don't like her / think she's ooc. the classic process of "cause major change in a character" goes inciting incident -> development -> big blowout moment demonstrating the change (appropriated + bastardized from mr freytag himself), and in my personal opinion the comic jumped the gun on this one? we get the inciting incident (candy timeline's irrelevancy) and both irl timeline and character arcwise are plunged straight into the blowout with very little time in between. there's a tiny hint with the light symbol playing a role (more on this later) but for the most part it feels sudden and unjustified if you're insane about rose + understand sufficient epilogues metaphilosophy + and are coded specifically to like this type of shit you Get Exactly What's Going On and fucking dig it. if you don't, you think they've put her through a meat grinder and i can see both

on the OTHER. dear god i'm sucking on the sweet teats of knowledge and absurdism like a baby at the bath. her swapping her constant need of "why" to "why not" and both rose's constant struggle with Light mixing with the irrelevancy of candy and coalescing in one big idgaf war except.

except on the third hand it's worth mentioning that she's also half-assing absurdism so bad that it gets pathetic. her last line "I knew you would forgive me anyway" actually solidifies this arc as one big tantrum that they plan on developing into Not A Thing (hopefully) because she doesn't tell kanaya "I knew it wouldn't matter." the forgiveness is what she focuses on. the forgiveness matters. kanaya still matters to her whether this dumbass light player is consciously aware of this or not and i think ironically KANAYA knows this better than she does which is part of her saying she refuses to mediate this one. on a rosemary level this is jaw-dropping on a character level BOOOO

MAKE HER ABSURDIST! make her sit there and do things not for the sake of kanaya but literally only to do them. make her sit there and genuinely believe the only obligation in reality is to live it. dirk fails at being a true absurdist too he starts injecting meaning into life like there's motherfucking nothing and rose actually acknowledging there's zero meaning whatsoever but living anyway and in that process learning to love life (juxtaposes jake's adventurer) would juxtapose her to him but NOOOOOO she has to sit there and go Well there's no meaning to Life. It was Never that serious. Fuck you. but then refuse to kill herself (thereby proving camus right once again) then now what. now What. Ohhhh "nothing" matters cool then die. dirk's suicide was meaningful because he broke that formula okay he went There's no meaning to life? Ok. then immediately hung himself he DEVOURED that sequence he subverted absurdism back into existentialism which is cool but ROSE COULD PERPENDICULAR THAT!

[lexiewrites]

TUA4 Spoilers

I figured out how the subway plotline could have fixed things.

Lila and Five should have taken Klaus and Allison with them. All four of them should have been trapped in the subway.

(I did think that maybe Diego should have been, but I think the CIA fight was worthy, it taught Diego a valuable lesson about being present for his family, and I think that Diego being in the subway was too on the nose.)

You have the four of them on this subway station, and someone gets left behind - Klaus or Allison. They all get lost trying to find each other again, and then find their way back - splitting up and mapping out the subway to compay notes.

Klaus and Allison spend a year trying to find Five and Lila, living out of the trains, and they get to talk. They get to hash out all of the messy trauma that comes with being an addict, sobriety, and living with an addict. How Klaus loves Claire so much, but he's affecting her. How Allison needs to be more present for her. How/why Ray left. Why Allison fucked them all over in S3.

And then Allison and Lila get a moment to talk about shitty marriages and lives that aren't quite what they wanted - Allison and her failed acting career, Lila stuck in suburbia. You have this come-to-god moment for both of them.

Meanwhile, Klaus and Five find Max's Deli because you know the absolute joy Klaus would get from that absurdist place? The jokes. A source of food that isn't subway rats? Amazing.

Then they get back six years later. Haunted and tired and so, so grateful to be back. Ready to fight for whatever they need to. Lila clinging to Diego when he says he misses her.

Allison and Klaus practically sobbing over Claire.

Five trying to reconcile the fact they have to die to fix everything. Klaus looking him dead-on and saying that he has been fighting for decades to save them, and the Five that ripped his way through time wouldn't give up.

Then you can go one of two ways:

Either Five founds the commission to create a 'bubble' where the Hargreeves can live safely without causing the apocalypse, outside of the timeline. They have to leave the kids behind, but they're always watching - and they can visit with them in the subway.

Or they die. And God is back on her bike, looking unamused to see Klaus again. Sloane and Ben are there, waiting for them. When God tries to kick Klaus out, every single one of them demands he be allowed to stay - all of them or none of them. God is vaguely disgusted but allows it, as long as Klaus stays away from her.

"We had a good run."

That's it. It always needed to come back to messy, flawed assholes doing their goddamn best and being each other's ride or die when shit came to shove.

I'll save my 'Reggie should have told Abigail to go fuck herself, and died in Victor's place' pitch for another post.

[sciderman]

Do u have tips on writing dialogue for peter and wade? I feel like they overlap a lot in their sarcasm and humor but how do u keep the writing as clever and snappy as u do:0?

god – i... this is kind of a really difficult question. bless you so much anon – i, uh. god. at this point, writing wade and peter is kind of just like, riding a bicycle. not a lot of thought happens, just... that's what they're saying in my brain. it kind of just comes to me. just like when i say my own dialogue. it's just a voice in my head that says things and i put it down.

i think... i think... god. it's hard to even really be descriptive over what the differences are in their humor. they're both self-depreciating – but i guess, peter's kind of more negative and biting with his humor. wade's more absurdist – wade's humor usually comes from him saying something entirely unexpected that shakes up the trajectory of the conversation or introduces some kind of revelation – or just, something that leaves whoever he's with at a loss for words. i think that's wade's goal with most of his humor - to derail, confuse, embarrass and deflect. a lot of the time he delivers it with a naivetie that makes you unsure if he's being sincerely stupid, or he's having you on.

peter's more negative. his humor is usually at his own expense, or at someone else's expense. it's insult-based humor. it's not naive and ditzy like wade's is – he has the intent to scold his opponents and make them feel bad in a direct-way, just like a punch. there's not a lot of room for interpretation with what peter says - very, very often he just says what he feels and what he thinks. whether that's about himself and his miserable little life, or how fat he thinks kingpin is. peter's honestly the one with no filter.

i think that kind of leads into this really fun banter dynamic they have that crops up everywhere i write them - when they're both in their best spirits - the back-and-forth is usually peter goading and teasing wade for being deflective, all the while being sincere and self-depreciating enough so as not to be threatening – whilst wade returns it with deflective sarcasm that should deflate peter's ego but peter kind of knows that wade says the exact opposite of what he really means, and that there's an underlying love to it that wade can't really hide. so they're constantly picking apart each other's insecurities in a gentle, loving way that they can both laugh at.

[x]

i think the really important thing about writing snappy dialogue is knowing the character's intentions in a scene – how they're feeling. how they want to come across to their conversation partner. and with peter, he's often apologetic or has the intent to goad sincerity out of wade but in gentle, playful way because he's scared of overwhelming him. so that's where his soft, self-depreciating humor comes in.

"i'm not a threat. i'm just a silly, messy guy who loves you. tell me you love me."

wade's intentions are usually to conceal - he's afraid of being vulnerable, but he also loves peter. so his dialogue is always mixed signals that keep peter on his toes. he loves watching peter try to keep up with him - and it only makes wade love him more that peter's so committed to keeping up with his bit

[fuckyeahaudiodrama]

✨APRIL/MAY LISTENS✨

hi i’m back, i’ve just finished my degree and do not have enough of a brain to write an in-depth of anything. but! here’s some of what i’ve been shoving in my earholes for the past month, in no particular order.

The Magnus Protocol — (season 1 ongoing) continues to blow my fucking mind. the sound design/music combo for this series is of particular note, it really just… mwah. elevates the text so much for me. i also continue to be impressed by how well this works as both a standalone series and as a delicious trail of candy for those of us who loved Archives. we’re halfway through s1 now and all i can think about is alice dyer.

Beef and Dairy Network — (ongoing @ 109 eps) a partially improvised absurdist comedy pod set in a world that is bizarrely obsessed with beef. my qpp listened to one episode and called it “distilled british humor” which feels… correct. i’ll be real, i’m actually mad at myself for not getting into this one sooner, but on the other hand having a long binge of it has been divine. i would kill to go to one of their live shows.

The White Vault — (5 seasons, 10 eps apiece) not including goshawk because i’ve barely started on that. but the main series… woah! god, i totally didn’t think this was going to be my thing but i could not put it down? the first season is definitely slower than i usually prefer but the characters kept me hooked and by season 3 the narrative completely took over my brain. i also love how well they sold the found audio format, it WORKS. gold fucking star, highly recommend.

Jackie the Ripper — (3 seasons, 5 eps apiece) put this one aside for a rainy day and binged it all at once. deeply wish there was more of it. it’s a raunchy crime drama with a downtrodden detective at the helm who i SWORE i wouldn’t root for but ended up doing so anyway. do recommend! if it sweetens the pot, the protag has the same VA as watson in the currently popular Sherlock & Co.

The Mistholme Museum — (6 seasons, soon to be complete) people have been recommending this to me for years and i just never got around to it, but on the bright side — it was an incredible binge. anthologies aren’t my strong suit but i found the framing device really strong and, crucially, it develops a meta plot that balances really well. biggest strength for me was the narrator, but i can’t explain why without spoiling some key plot developments. just trust me.

Wake of Corrosion — (4 seasons, final ongoing) very cool apocalyptic suspense/horror. i initially loved this show for the dynamic between the two leads, who are brothers trying to reconnect on a solitary camping trip when the world decides to go wonky. i ended up loving the worldbuilding as well. final episode drops very soon.

Neon Inkwell: The Pit Below Paradise — (miniseries, ongoing) this one has a bit of a western vibe and heavy religious/culty overtones, which isn’t my favorite genre. but i think each of the main characters has been developed really well thus far. + many fun cameos from members of the production team, those are really fun to try and spot :)

Twits: A Steampunk Distraction — (2 seasons, 5 eps apiece) very silly comedy of errors from the pov of a bumbling aristocrat. can’t say too much without giving the end of s1 twist away. i highly recommend it if you’re looking for some lighthearted listening. the ending credits are also very cute.

Planet Arcana — (ongoing @ 71 eps) i’m so bad at TTRPGs but this one has such a unique setting, i’m just captivated. tarot-flavored sci-fi adventure for anyone interested. i’ve made it through the first arc and the party has already experienced a crazy amount of development; stoked to see what happens next.

Selene — (ongoing) anthology about a spooky little town with a vintage vibe. single narrator, quite talented. i’m not always easily invested in anthologies but the narrator here really sells it for me, and (!) i think he writes children — both their thought processes and dialogue — very realistically. which is my grandest compliment.

Camp Here & There — (s1 complete @ 33 eps, hiatus?) i put off listening to this for a rainy day because i’d heard nothing but rave reviews and they weren’t lying. this is quite literally the ONLY pod i’ve come across that completely captures the same magic that WTNV did for me on first listen. the creator is kinda going thru it so idk if s2 is going to happen but i really hope so. even if not, s1 is very worth listening to. it’s wacky and sinister and i just love the narrator, it’s hard not to.

We’re Alive: Scout’s Honor — (8 ep miniseries, complete) imagine WA from the perspective of some awkward tweenagers. what’s not to love? the gore is really heightened by each characters’ stage of emotional development. i especially loved the conclusion but i won’t spoil it here ;)

Among the Stars and Bones — (2nd season ongoing) sci-fi drama with a solid first season, really nice narrative tie-up, but the second season was SUCH a glow-up nonetheless! + the most memorable karim kronfli performance of all time IMHO.

[speremint]

any webtoons/web comics you're really loving lately?

This is definitely a hard question…. I recently was rereading the TF2 comics because I am back to hyperfixating on that old game…. They’re EXTREMELY funny and I can only aspire to write this type of absurdist humor some day, and I’d heavily recommend them. You don’t need to be familiar with the game to read them.

Makanidotdot’s work was a big inspo to me when I was younger and still trying to identify my art style, too!

Here’s a small snippet of one of my favorite scenes from the comics just so you understand why medic continues to be a god tier character

[darkurgetrash]

Writer Interview Tag ✍️

Thank you for the tag my kitten @savriea! I love this format ❤️ no pressure tags to @lemonsrosesandlavender @forget-me-maybe @freesidexjunkie @blackstaff-blast @crystal-overdrive @notlikeparis xo

When did you start writing?

I was writing awful emo-type fiction (featuring yandere tropes that I didn’t know were a thing) then got into fanfic around ?13/14? with Death Note. I think so anyway, it’s nearly impossible for me to remember what age I did what 🤷‍♀️

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I enjoy literary horror and absurdist fiction, which I used to write more of but haven’t really felt motivated to since venturing back into romance writing. I have a few short stories though from back in the day in these genres that I was thinking about publishing somewhere, but I wouldn’t know where to begin!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I’ve always been inspired by Diana Wynn Jones and have been compared to her from before, but I’m not sure I agree with that because I am nowhere near her level — that would be the dream, though! When I used to write more creatively, I very much tried to emulate Sayaka Murata, my queen. 🙇‍♀️

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I don’t have a designated space, but I do find it easier to write when I’m commuting (because there’s no wifi/signal and I have nothing better to do). So… the London Underground? 😁

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Being so bored that “I might as well write”, hahahaha! I have tonnes of hobbies though so, unfortunately, I don’t get in the writing mood very often. 🤣

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I tend to always end up writing about depression and trauma, even when I didn’t intend to hehe. 🤭 Write what you know, right? Tbh, I’m unfortunately quite a pessimistic person who is more naturally inclined towards melancholy, so I think these things tend to slip into my characters. That said, I always want to make things feel hopeful and whimsical too — probably as a form of escapism — so I suppose that surprises me!

What is your reason for writing?

A loaded question… 👀 I wrote a long answer just now but deleted it because I couldn’t quite properly express what I meant lol, so the tldr is: escapism, self expression, and fulfillment🫡

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I love all comments ❤️❤️ but also, if you’re writing mini essays under my fics, you have a special place in my heart.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Hmm, depends on what I’m writing. For the most part, I’d like readers to think I’m funny and enjoy my humour, and, of course, enjoy the story I create!

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I personally enjoy my sense of humour in writing. My one-shot ‘Gods Damned Gale Dekarios!’ and some parts of HITMC have been some of my favourite writing I’ve ever done, and my short stories I used to write used tonnes of irony and absurdist humour. I think I’m also good at writing about characters’ inner thoughts and feelings — when it comes to anything external, however, I struggle. 💀

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think I’m pretty average tbh — enjoyable enough to read but nothing super special. I have a lot of cognitive issues that make writing really hard for me, especially when it comes to, like I said, writing about anything that’s happening externally: action, the senses, settings, etc. I think I especially have problems when it comes to the all important “show not tell” rule, because girlypop has no visualisation skills. 🤣 But overall, I think as long as people are enjoying my writing, I don’t see it as a reason to be hard on myself. I’ve kinda given up on any ambitions to write anything more than what I do now because my disabilities are too extreme and also getting worse with age, but hey-ho, it is what it is.