#is it really one of my posts if I don’t make a music pun

[carmenized-onions]

Something to Do. | Catering

logline; Itinerary for your trip to New York? Just try not to fucking cry.

[!!!] series history, this is the twelfth; gonna start season three after I post this. Wonder how bad it's gonna throw off the rest of my plot line. Ideally not at all. We'll see.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I really like this playlist for all chapters, but for a wedding where music is blasting, it feels particularly fitting.

portion; 13.3k how does this keep happening.

possible allergies; Terrible self-image, everything feels bad, very real conversations abt ,,, self-death and addiction.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets referred to as a woman and other feminine honourifics but no pronouns, i believe)

i made you all so mad last chapter. Let's see if i can make it up to you, babydoll (probably wont)

You hate to admit it, but you were kind of relieved when you found out Carmen wasn’t coming on the plane. You’re in a bit of a state of fight or flight; well, more accurately, currently leaning towards the flight side— Pun intended.

He’s coming to the wedding. You know he is. For one, he’s getting thirty grand for this, he has to. For two, his location is still on for you— Whether he forgot to turn it off or just didn’t care, you’re not sure. But he hates you, so there’s no way it was intentional, you’re certain about that much.

You know you shouldn’t be looking at it, but you have. You’ve been looking all week. Checking your Find my Friends like a doting mother. He goes to work far too early, he stays far after close, he goes home. Rinse and repeat.

You check on him one last time before boarding the plane. He’s opted to drive, with Richie. Something about ‘wanting to bring their personal equipment’, Richie texted you. They’re halfway through Ohio. You’re sure that road trip is definitely going spectacular after their side of the explosion.

Richie texted the day after that fucking fiasco, asking if you’d want updates on how it’s going at The Bear. How it’s going with Carmen. You said you wanted to know if he wanted to tell. He opted not to tell.

You hate to admit, you were kind of relieved, to not know. To just look at Carmen’s little icon go from Point A to B. Instead of Carmen Reports, you and Richie text about much lighter things. Normal things. Eva drew a funny picture of you kinda things. It’s nice. You know you’re probably being childish, but it feels so much fucking better to ignore the Bear in the room. You don’t know how to feel about anything, and frankly you don’t want to try to figure it out.

You suck, Carmen sucks, what more is there to know? Process it? Fuck that.

Carmen hasn’t texted you; you haven’t texted him, the entire week. Radio silence. You stopped playing Connections. Didn’t see a point. Not like they even have a streak function anyways— You’d die before you let that Wordle streak break, though. That was your thing. Carmen doesn’t get to take your things, too.

You didn’t get a text from the Exec, either. So that’s… Something? Or, rather, explicitly, that’s nothing. Does that mean Carmen gives a shit? Not necessarily. Ugh. Your whole system was so shocked after that fucking fight that you didn’t really have time to take in the fact that that jag was into you? Vomit inducing. You’ve got to rethink your life choices, if they lead you to him. 

But also, you know if Carmen and you were okay right now, you probably would’ve given him your number. You would’ve catfished him for weeks, laughing over your phone with Carmen and Syd as this idiot falls into your trap. You miss Carmen. You also don’t miss Carmen. You want to see him desperately and also never fucking look at him again.

Carmen’s going to be in the kitchen; you’re going to be out in the banquet hall, on bar, this whole wedding. The likelihood either of you have to actually interact this weekend is quite low. The likelihood either of you have to confront what you’re supposed to do with yourselves now is quite low. You hate to admit it, you’re fucking relieved.

Sydney sleeps on your shoulder, for most of the plane ride. You sleep against her head. Shout out Marcus, for switching seats. He’s behind you, with Tina. He wakes both of you up about an hour in, shaking your seats— Because the dessert cart came out and he didn’t want either of you to miss it. The mini cheesecakes are better than expected, to be fair, so he’s forgiven.

This is going to be the stupidest weekend of your life. You’ll take that, over worst, at least.

“Be honest, would you tip me extra well?”

You give a twirl in your probably too fancy semi-cultural outfit. Your family shows up for weddings, if Vinnie and Mira didn’t want their bartender to go hard, they should’ve put that in their notes. It actually would have been nice to get sent notes, though… What is the theme for this wedding other than ‘Italian’ and ‘New York’…? Glitter eyeshadow is probably fine, right? Yeah it’s fine. Not like you could get that shit off now, anyways.

“If you were my bartender, I would ask ‘what are we?’” Answers Syd, watching you from the bathroom as she attempts to put her hair up. Definitely struggling in silence.

Sharing a hotel room was the best idea you ever had. It would be a nightmare to get ready alone in silence, right now. It’s nice to talk and have something to do. If you didn’t, you’d absolutely be ruminating about Carmen, debating whether or not to check on his room, that’s just down the hall, you could see if he needed help with getting ready and also see if he’s as tired as you think he is and— Plus, the amount you saved on splitting a one bed? Christ. Economy is in shambles. So is your brain.

“You would not be brave enough to ask your bartender ‘what are we?’”

“For you, I would.”

“Are we about to kiss, bro?” You duck into the bathroom, getting way too close to the side of Syd’s face. She laughs, pushing you away with the palm of her hand, you scoff, “Wooowwww—”

You clutch your heart, mortally wounded. Retching, truly. Now this is heartbreak in its rawest form. “—Reject me, why don’t you?”

“I’m playing the role of timid—” “I’m sick of this friends to lovers plot line!” “It adds! It adds!”

“Shut up— And tilt your head back, dumbass, what are you doing?” You stand behind her, taking her braids into your hands as she struggles to bundle them all herself.

“I do this all the time by myself, y’know.” So Syd says, but she lets you take her braids regardless.

“Yeah, but I’m here.” You stretch the hairband on your fingers. “Messy bun?”

“You think?”

“I think primal is too clean.”

“No, I was gonna do the one where it does like— Like the infinity in the front?”

“Who’s mom are you tryna fuckin’ look like?”

She kisses her teeth, attempting to reach a hand behind her head to smack you. You dodge and somehow manage to make it easier to smack you. “I’m literally only gonna get to come out after everyone’s left, I dunno why we’re making effort here—”

“High messy bun?” “High messy bun.”

Oh, the days of doing each other’s hair. You’re glad it’s back. You’re glad you get to become, together, again. It used to be bobbles, friendship bracelets, and glitter tattoos—but now it’s tying up each other’s hair, helping with the curling iron, clasping the gold chains on your neck, zipping up the back of your outfit, pinning the collar pins on her uniform, fixing makeup, asking each other to compare perfumes before going through with the final decision, mocking each other’s purchases.

“Wait, what mini deodorant did you get at customs?”

“Oh, one of those Native ones— I think it’s peach—?”

“Those cost like five fucking dollars, Ink. For like two swipes.”

“Excuse me for wanting to smell good, fuckin’ ‘wolfthorn’—”

“I work in a restaurant. I need Old Spice strength, okay—!”

“Oh, pbbbttt— Syd.”

“Pbb—Fuck, how do you do that?”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting your squabble. “Are you decent?!”

Sydney groans, “No!”

“Yes, Rich, we’re decent, doors open.”

Richie comes in, unceremoniously. A touch awkward. He’s so rarely been in a room with women getting ready. It’s simultaneously exactly what he expected, and not at all what he expected. “Chip, can you put these fuckin’ things on f’me?”

Cufflinks. He presents the box to you. They’re just plain and silver, boring. Save that in your rolodex of gifts to get this Christmas. “You’re fuckin’ forty and you don’t know how to put on some cufflinks—?”

You’re nagging, but you’re already putting them on him, he holds his wrist out for you. “Nah, I was too busy runnin’ shit to learn.”

“Runnin’ your mouth, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s a quiet moment, a tender moment, of adjusting his sleeves. Sydney’s scrambling to clean up the room around you two in the background. It’s hard to turn off the autopilot of cleaning one’s station, no matter where she goes.

You purse your lips. You shouldn’t ask and you shouldn’t care, but you do. You half-whisper, to Richie. “How was the drive?” He knows what you’re asking.

“Terrible start. Surprisingly okay middle. He went straight to the banquet hall once we got here.” He swallows, treading carefully, a thing Richie never does. “Do you wanna know the dirty details?”

Oh good, you wouldn’t be able to check on his room even if you wanted to. You want to. Need to? Stop thinking. Carmen sucks and you suck. 

“Not particularly.” You take one final look at his sleeves, happy with your handiwork, letting his wrists go. “You feel settled, though? Or jury’s still out?”

Richie shrugs, tilting his head back and forth. “Grovelled decent enough, by time we hit Penn. But I’m waitin’ on my informer.”

You cringe, knowing what he means. You also know he’d smack you if you said he doesn’t need your say in order to forgive Carmen. “It’s gonna be a minute, until your informer has an answer.”

“I know.” He nods, twisting his wrists back and forth, looking at the cufflinks. Then he gives you a once over. “Y’look good.”

“You too.” You look over him, he does look good. He’s in his suit, wearing his wedding ring, which makes your heart hurt a little bit, but he does look good. “What’s your fuckin’ job tonight, by the way?” He can’t be doing kitchen. He sucks at kitchen. But he’s also just not dressed for it.

“Fuckin’ everything.” Hyperbolic? Typically yes, with Richie, but not this time.

“Wait staff here had too high a fee—”

“Translation: more than free?”

“More than free, yeah.”

“Heard.”

“So, I’m server, set up, and fuckin’ whore-derve—”

“What?” That pronunciation snaps Sydney out of her autopilot clean, her back snaps up straight. Hands on her hips, like a disappointed teacher. “It’s hors d’oeuvres.”

Richie rolls his eyes and really his whole head back. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ CIA or whatever the fuck—”

You interrupt the fight before it can start. “Let’s just say appetizers.”

Sydney does not let you. “Apps and hors d’oeuvres are different.”

You angle your body from Richie to her, deadpanning. “Just because you went to the fuckin’ FBI or whatever the fuck—”

“Alright!” She’s already walking to the door, despite the fact that she started it— “We’ve gotta fuckin’ get to hall now or we’re gonna have like zero prep time, Chefs.”

You both follow after her, doing one last check to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You honestly don’t need to be in this much of a rush, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t mention that. Richie said Carmen just went straight to the banquet hall, when they came in this morning. You’re not sure how well you know him anymore, all things considered, but by your best guess, he’s almost certainly done all the prep by himself.

Carmen did not do the kitchen prep entirely himself. Well. He might’ve, you haven’t checked, but you don’t think he would’ve had the time.

Carmen did your prep entirely himself.

When you get to the bar, in the banquet hall, you have nothing to do. Side work finished for you. Lemons, limes, oranges— All cut into wedges and loaded in their baskets— even the cherries are pitted. The glasses are organized from wine to whiskey glasses, the sink is clean— Which you know the banquet hall staff didn’t do— They never fucking do.

You don’t see Carmen, but you know he did it. He showed up before anyone else, he was in the kitchen before anyone else— So no one else could’ve left the simple braised beef sandwich on your station. Exactly how Mikey used to make it. Half hot, half sweet. Your order at The Beef. Carmen would’ve done pork, but this is what they had on hand, and he had a feeling this would mean more, anyways. It does. Granola bar on the plate with it. One of the nice ones, too. The wrapping boasts fifteen grams of protein.

He knows how hard running bar is. He knows you won’t have time to eat once it starts. So, he’s making sure you get something down now— And that you have time to eat it in peace, and making sure you have something you can scarf mid-shift later, when you don’t have time.

Fucking. Hell. Fuck this fucking guy. Carmen fucking sucks. You fucking suck. This all fucking sucks so much. This sandwich is so fucking good. You’re so fucking mad. Stop saying fuck. Fuck your subconscious for wanting you to stop saying fuck. It’s so unfair, for him to be maybe the cruelest a person could possibly be, in front of an audience made out of your loved ones, and then be sweet, like this.

He is awful, with words— Well, he’s typically better, with you, par for the last time, but he’s best in the kitchen. You can taste the sorrow, the guilt, the apology. The first thing he ever made you, was a sandwich, the brisket sandwich, that Mikey refined for you, as an apology, for freaking the fuck out in a freezer and having that be your first impression of him— Or, at least, first first-hand impression of him. How far you’ve come.

This will not pass, as an apology. Not a proper one. But… You’ll give him a sign, in return, at least. A confirmation that you got the message, nothing more. Definitely nothing more.

“Rich.” You stop the guy in his tracks, as he marches through the room, helping the rest of the staff set up the hall. Not his job, but it’s Richie. “Can you ask kitchen their shifties?”

He nods, like he understands, walking away with stacks of chairs under both his arms.

He comes back after two minutes, straight up to your bar. “What the fuck is a shifty?”

“Oh.” You feel condescending, for being surprised. You’d never really thought about the huge difference between morning servers and night servers until right now. Richie has never worked with a bar staff. He worked at a fucking sandwich shop. “It’s uh— Your drink. Get a drink on your shift— Shifty— It can be like, a cocktail, a straight, a shot, coffee—”

“I know how many fucking drinks exist, Chip—” “Mocktail, smoothie, juice—” “Yeah, I’ll get a Pina Colada.” “I will break the blender over your head.” “I’ll get you a list.”

You nod, already starting on usuals you know will have remained unchanged since your absence. Steel trap memory. Getting drinks with The Beef staff used to be the highlight of your week, which isn’t a sad statement at all.  “I won’t tell anyone you like Dirty Shirleys.”

He defends. “Eva put me on them.”

“Insane thing to say about your five-year-old.”

“You know what I meant— She likes the normal—” “I’m pokin’ fun, go give this to Carmen.”

You’re hoping if you say it fast, coupled with bickering, Richie won’t make mental note of it. Won’t register it. Of course, he still does. How could he not? You slide the mug to him; he takes it, though, slow, with a perplexed look.

Yeah. They had lavender and maple syrup behind the bar. And cardamom. And milk to froth. And black coffee. Whatever. You didn’t have any dried lavender to top it with, this time, so it’s not actually that cool, anyways. Doesn’t make it special. Did you do a maple syrup drizzle to make up for this? Yeah. You hate yourself just a little bit, for it. You really cannot shut off the way you love, can you? Hopeless. Be even the slightest bit withholding, would you? Just a touch petty? God, you suck. Such a princess.

Rich shrugs, when you don’t try to justify yourself. You’re an adult, he won’t coerce you to be sharper, even if you should be. “Aye aye, Chippy.”

If Carmen ends up wanting to drink later, then he’ll have to come to you. That’s being tough, right? Sure. That’s definitely withholding, Chip. Really showed Carmen there. Certainly, a church woman must be clutching her pearls at your backbone, somewhere in the world.

Do you think you’d be able to handle him coming to your bar, anyways?

No. Decidedly no. Which is a bit stupid, because you’ve faced much scarier things in your life, than some asshole you owe two grand. Well, some asshole you owe two grand that you love deeply that hates you deeply because you are in some part responsible for not taking care of his brother—

Carmen doing your side work was unintentionally cruel, honestly. You don’t have anywhere for your brain to go but him. Don’t have anyone to talk to, or anything to do. Richie can tell and whether you want him to or not; he knows what you need. He repeats himself, walking off with the mug. “I’ll get you your list.”

He knows what you need. Something to do. Something to fix, for someone. Not fix someone. People’s princess. Still failed Mikey, no matter how hard you tried.

Sprite, grenadine, vodka, lime, maraschino cherries. Dirty Shirley. Something to do. Just focus on something to do.

You miss the naivety of wanting something to do. Three hundred guests versus one bartender without a barback is a layer of hell that Dante forgot to specify in his Inferno.

“What can I fix for you, ma’am?!” You’ve got to yell every sentence to get anything intelligible over the music and the cacophony of conversations.

There is an overlap of voices from every single woman crowding around your bar, despite the fact that you were definitely making explicit eye-contact with just one of them. You lean over the counter to hear her alone. She blinks, when you get in her face.

“What are we?”

You cannot stop the snort, but you’re pretty sure she didn’t hear it, music's too loud to hear anything. Syd’s a fucking oracle. “We’re fucked. What can I get for you?”

“Lemon drop shot?” Of course. It’s New York.

“Comin’ right up—”

The crowd of women interrupt you, and each other. “Oh, make that two!” “Make that three!” “Wait what are we making?”

Who the fuck is we? They’re more than welcome to get behind the bar with you. You’d take anyone, at this point.

“Lemon drops, babe!” “Oh—Oh, we doin’ lemon drops?” “Let’s just say ten and be safe!”

Of course.

It’s a lot of that, on repeat. But it’s better than the ones that want one very specific brand of scotch with their soda, because at least you can make huge batches for these ones— Does no one know how to fucking act around an open bar anymore? You get a vodka cran and you fuck off. You really need to start telling people you don’t know how to make bellinis.

Working alone is hard, because you can tell when you turn your back to make drinks, and aren’t able to take twenty more orders at the same time, that everyone’s real fucking annoyed with you. You have tried splitting your cells to become a second person, didn’t work. You’re constantly spinning around to accommodate people, and it’s getting fucking nauseating. And you’re usually patient, but the questions are getting just as mind-numbing.

“Can I get a uh… A negroni… Sbagliato? With prosecco?” “Sbagliato means prosecco is in it, sweetheart.”

“Do you do hurricane shots?” “I’m happy to slap you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, so it’s open bar?” “Yeah.” “So, I don’t have to tip, either?” “Well— It’s appreciated— Oh, and you’ve already walked away. Okay.”

It’s a lot of that, on repeat.

You see from twenty feet away, amidst the crowds, Uncle Jimmy walking towards your bar, and when he waves all friendly, he sees your glower, and opts to turn in the other direction. Smart man. No wonder he’s successful.

Richie swings by your bar, waiting at the corner, where the line hasn’t congregated. You don’t need to be shaking this martini for as long as you are, but it’s a good way to look like you’re working when you’re just trying to talk to Richie. He presents his serving tray to you. “Tiny quiche?”

You open your mouth, hands full with your shaker. He gets the point, stabbing a toothpick into the appetizer and shoving it in your mouth. Oh God, food is beautiful. Food is what sustains. You could write a full book of poetry right now about why food is everything. Well, not everything. You’re still in hell.

“Richie, I’m dying, your job can’t be that important, come be barback.” You pour out the martini. You attempt to open the jar of olives by yourself, when you struggle, Richie puts his tray down and grabs the jar from you.

Thankfully for your pride, he’s also struggling with it. Plus, it gives you time to annihilate the tray of quiches. He shakes his head, his job is important, allegedly. “You want me to starve guests?”

“Ideally? Yes.” You ignore the dirty looks you get from eavesdropping patrons. He hands you the opened jar. You take a toothpick from his tray, since you’re already out of yours, pierce an olive, toss it in the martini, and pass it to someone— Quite frankly, there’s every chance that’s not the guy that ordered the dirty martini, but he takes it, so who gives a fuck.

Richie sighs, he does want to help. “I’ll ask kitchen if they can cut someone.”

Thank fucking God. “Ask Marcus, he’s got mixology experience or some shit.” You remember being occasionally impressed by his verbiage— At the very least, he knows what stuff is back here, and that’s enough for you.

Richie just shakes his head, lips in a line, when you mention Marcus. A universal sign that something has gone horrifically wrong. You furrow your brows, immediately worried, leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Excuse me! What’s it take to get a long-island iced tea around here? This open bar is not very open!”

You and Richie both grimace, at the thick Jersey accent on this woman waving her hand hysterically at your bar. He gives you a nod, already taking his empty tray and starting to walk back to the kitchen. “I’ll ask.”

You turn your body to the woman, but head still to Richie. “Don’t ask. Tell.”

Not even five minutes pass, before you get a barrage of texts, from multiple people, all at once. You watch them flood in on the notification screen of your phone laying on the counter, while shaking up a cosmo, this time.

From Marcus, worrying. ‘sorrysorysorrybakkingemergencymbmmbmb’

From Syd, concerning. ‘couldn’t stop him lmk if it’s bad’

From Richie, alarming. ‘yk how to call your dog right’

But it all makes sense, when Carmen comes up to your bar, removing his apron. “You need a barback?”

Hair is normal. Not at its best, not how you taught him, but it’s better than before. He smells excessively like you; like accidentally used half the bottle levels like you. Maybe not an accident. Don’t read into it, too much— They’re almost certainly the only travel sized bottles he had on hand. Of course he’d take them. He smells like Old Spice, too, though. Don’t read into it. He looks tired. You knew he would. You’ve watched his location, every day. By the time you go to bed each night, he’s only just left The Bear. He deserves to feel tired, he was a fucking asshole, and you’re glad your cat ate just short of all of his flowers.

But you brought in the plate, the next morning. You cleaned it, and then hid it in the back of your dishwasher. You wanted it to be safe, you also just didn’t want to look at it or think about it or have it exist in your mind, at all. That’s half the reason you couldn’t let it perch outside your window anymore. Taunting you. He’s a piece of shit, but you can feel it in your chest; the care you cannot get rid of. The desire to ask are you okay? Have you been sleeping? How are you? How’s your week been? Want a hug? Have you been playing Connections? What did I do wrong? Did you need me? Did anything break? Did you break?

You missed him. Was the radio silence relieving? Yes. Preferably, you’d never acknowledge each other for the rest of your lives besides an eventual wire transfer. Preferably, he’d stay in the back of your dishwasher for the rest of your life. But God, you missed him, this week. You’ll probably miss him for the rest of your life. Is that toxic? You’re working on it. No you’re not… He just made every space easier to breathe in, kept a light on, for you. Not at the end, but he did before. Before he figured out that he hates you.

It’s a thing that everyone says about you, that you bring ease, and whether you can confirm or deny that, who’s to say— But you know Carmen does it for you. Lights up a room for you. And you might be alone in that feeling, but that’s okay with you. Or it was. It was, before he figured out he should hate you.

Oh, shit, you’ve been staring at him in silence for way too long. It’s hard to know how to navigate this. You don’t know how to feel, so you don’t know how to act either. It’s all a weird state of limbo that you desperately want to get out of, but don’t want to do any of the work required to do so. What do you do with your hands? Your body? Your voice? Are you supposed to be funny and nice still? Christ, just say something. What’d he ask, again? Can’t remember.

“Uh…” Still can’t remember, but— “What’s happening with Marcus?”

He seems to falter, slightly, but he comes into your bar, oh right, barback. You needed a barback. He exchanges his kitchen apron for a bar apron. Not used to seeing him wear all black. You wish you could enjoy it. Wish you could say it’s cool watching him act as one of your professions. He answers, as he ties the strings around his waist. “Uber dropped their wedding cake.”

Fuck whatever tension you two have. You nearly fold over in shock. The current track on the speakers fades out, right as you yell back, “They dropped their fucking wedd—!?”

With haste, Carmen puts the palm of his hand over your mouth. Knife tattoo hand. Oh, he missed being this close to you. Not the point here, though. “Shhhhhhh…!”

You relax, he removes his hand, you’re annoyed that you wish he didn’t. You whisper, though it’s still screeching in tone. “They dropped their fucking wedding cake?”

He nods, combing his hair back with his hand. Knife tattoo hand. It’s making your shampoo waft. You both notice it. He stops. “Marcus is remaking one, now.”

“From scratch?” You were right to be so worried; Richie was right to make the face he did. Carmen tilts his head back and forth. “Box mix that he’s finessing—”

You finish the sentence with him, “—Because he’s Marcus.” The king of doing too much, especially when there’s no time for it. It’s his best and worst trait.

He nods, smiling just slightly, but not the typical smile you get from him. Timid. “Yeah, so he’s locked in, but I’m here.”

Simple sentence, but it still schisms your brain. You cannot help but feel a distrust of it. “Shouldn’t you be running the back, though?” Keeping his kitchen in order? Being the Exec in his head?

He shakes his head. “They run a tight ship without me just fine.” The first lesson you gave to him, that that’s a good thing. Is this conversation hitting specific pain points on purpose as a punishment from God or is this just how all your conversations are going to feel, from now on?

Probably both. You nod. “Okay.” You do need a barback.

“This is so cute, girl, and I love love but I’m gonna need that Cosmo like yesterday.” Why did this woman have to say love? That would already be terrible if you were good right now. Carmen’s probably not the type of guy to say the L word for like several months anyways. You’re not even dating anyways— Or weren’t? Can you use past-tense on something that never was?

You hand her the Cosmo, and you both pretend you never heard her.

Running bar with Carmen makes your life infinitely easier, though albeit tenser. He hasn’t done this before, but he’s watched previous bar staff from the sidelines— And one of his best traits is how quick he catches on to things. He’s not confident enough to mix drinks, but everything else, he does just fine.

“Behind.” There’re occasional autopilot moments that make you laugh, though. He snaps back into his body, when you do, moving next to you. He tilts his head, “What, you don’t say behind?”

You shrug, and it feels normal, for a second. “Professionals probably do, I’ve never worked in a place that does, though.”

“But what about when you’re holdin’ shit?” You allow yourself to feel normal, for a second. It is a delight to teach him something about your work. You continue to make drinks and hand off orders, all while you both speak. It reminds you of the domestic flow you were both so used to doing. That was so easy for you both to fall into. It’s nice that it somehow hasn’t gone away.

“So, you know when you’re in the kitchen, or here, behind bar, you get like, really fucking hot?” Don’t let that entendre stay doubled— “Like sweaty?”

“Mhm?”

You hold onto your chilled shaker, stepping behind him, “So, we don’t say behind, we—” and press it just under the back of his neck. He shivers, immediately, full shock running through his system. “Do that.”

“Christ!”

You want to enjoy the moment, but you can’t help but remember him calling you a modern-day saviour. You try to push it down, but the warmth you were starting to feel tones down, quite a bit. You manage to keep him from noticing, manage to keep the smile on. “What, don’t like it? It’s nice!”

“Think it’s a safety concern, f’sure.”

“Call OSHA.” You touch the shaker to his face, before going to pour it. He laughs. Actually laughs. You wish that made you feel good, still. And somewhere, in some corner of yourself, it still does. But not like it did before.

Soon enough, you two get a second of reprieve, as Vinnie’s Best Man gets up to do his speech, or whatever. He uses a knife to clink his glass, and of course, it fucking shatters. You’re half-mad, because technically for the night, those are your glasses, but it’s too funny to actually give a shit. Plus, the Best Man gets a pass tonight, in your book, because one, he understood protocol and got a vodka cran from you, and two, his speech is forcing everyone to sit down and leave y’all the fuck alone.

“Beautiful night, beautiful couple, beautiful people— Couldn’t ask for a better weddin’ for my best friend— But let’s be honest, I didn’t think he’d be gettin’ a wedding at all— Aye! This guy Vin, amirite?”

You take this moment to halve your protein bar from Carmen. You wordlessly hand the other half to him. He shakes his head. “M’Good, you eat.”

 You shove it towards him. You know he hasn’t eaten much, you don’t know how, but you just know. “I’ve eaten twelve tiny quiches and a beef sandwich, Carm, take the fuckin’ granola.”

He breathes heavily through his nose, but he takes it. You both watch the Best Man, quietly eating your halves. He is silently overjoyed at the verbal confirmation you ate the sandwich.

“I don’t need to introduce my goddamn self, I’m sure my reputation precedes me, right? But I’m Leo, I’m my boy’s Best Man, and I just couldn’t be more honoured, y’know? We grew up together, playin’ stickball in the Bronx, and now this guy’s marryin’ one of the most wonderful women in the world? And I get to be here? Man, I love ya.”

As cranky as you’ve been all night, this really is a gorgeous wedding. More often than not, the guests are nice, it’s just that the shit ones stick out in your head like nails to be hammered. Vinnie and Mira seem like a good couple. You wonder if you’ll ever get to have a wedding like this. They commissioned one of those painters to do a live painting, too. Always wanted one of those. And they’ve got little gift bags for the guests. You’re taking notes, internally, of what you like here, what you’d want to do for your own.

You wish you and Carmen were talking, right now. Despite the fact that Leo’s voice is booming throughout the hall’s speakers, the silence between you feels deafening, because you both know that you would be talking right now, if you weren’t living in fucking limbo. You need to work. You need something to do. The ice basket is running low, refilling it will take at least two minutes and maybe holding the ice will shock your nervous system.

You grab a bag of ice from the freezer behind you both, Carmen pretends to be listening to the speech, because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to help you with the weight. You cut the bag, emptying huge chunks of ice into the basket. You ball up the plastic in your hands to throw out; you nod to Carmen. “Can you break the ice?”

He seems surprised, taking a second, before nodding, crossing and uncrossing his arms. “I owe you an apology—”

“Oh, no!” You hastily correct. “No— Yes but no— I— I meant—” You hand him the metal scooper, nodding to the clumped-up ice you just poured out. “I meant can you break the literal ice blocks?”

Carmen wishes he has dead. And you can both tell that. “Yes. Yes— Yeah, f’sure, one-hundred— Course. Heard.” You nod back, pensive, throwing the plastic bag out, staring straight ahead, trying to refocus on Leo again. You can’t.

Carmen beats the ice, softly, so as to not make a noticeable noise for the audience. After a few seconds, he returns to his point. “…I do owe you an apology, though—”

“Don’t even worry about it, Carmen.” You don’t say this. Fak does. He sidles up to the bar. Where he keeps apparating from and hearing your conversations, you’re really not sure. “I’ve got this one.”

Neither you or Carmen know what Fak thinks he’s got, here, but you’re both too intrigued or surprised to stop him. Well, Carmen does give it a fair shot, after a second, “Fak, I’m—”

“Nono—” But there’s simply no chance. “I appreciate you trying to fix my problems for me, but y’know, I can handle myself, Carmen.” …You wish that’s what Carmen said, last Friday, instead of calling himself your charity tax write-off.

Fak pivots to you, sighing, shrugging, hands up, as if you know as well as he does what the fuck he’s about to say. You can’t tell if you’re supposed to be scared right now or not. When you don’t say anything, he starts, “Alright, I guess I’m the one that's brave enough to say it, there’s some major tension here.”

Now why does Fak think he’s the one to acknowledge this. Quite frankly, why is Fak here? Is he working, too? On what exactly? You don’t remember seeing him on the plane, either. Was he a part of the road trip? Dear God, that's a nightmare third wheel. You just let out a, “Huh?”

“Oh, come on, you haven’t shown up at The Bear since last Friday—” You’re now remembering that before the fight of all fights broke out that night, Fak ran out of the kitchen. Guess no one filled him in, after. “And like, this week, when something broke—” He nods to Carmen, who grimaces, hand over his face. “Carmy told me to fix it, instead of calling you, like he’d usually.”

You know you’re not allowed to be upset about that, and yet, you really fucking are. You’re Carmen’s fucking fixer. Or were? Fuck. Christ, are you jealous of Fak now? You turn your gaze just slightly to Carmen, who’s leaning over the counter, propping his head up on his hands. “What broke?”

He answers briefly. “Expo clock.”

It was extremely apt and even more upsetting for him, the way time literally stopped, when you left. When he made you leave.

You tuck your hands in your pockets, looking back to Fak. “You fix it?”

He shrugs. “Yeah.” Carmen stands back up, opening his mouth to intercept, Fak puts a hand in front of his face. “No Carm, I’ve gotta tell her the truth…” What.

“Tony…” Neil sighs, unable to make eye contact, at this moment. “I was really harsh on you, that Friday…”

“…Huh?” The fucking degree thing? Is that what he’s talking about? You honestly can’t remember anything before Carmen, from that night.

“You don’t need to hide your pain.” He nods solemnly, “I— I’m just gonna say it… I know it’s hard to believe, but I was… jealous.”

“I know.”

He ignores that you’ve said this entirely, “I know, I know, it’s crazy. Me? Jealous? But yeah, I was really good at hiding it, but you’re just really like smart, Tony, y’know? And everyone was like— Tony can fix this— Tony can fix that— And I was holding it together, but then you were good at serving, too. And it got to me— And obviously Carmen could tell, so he stopped calling you. Trying to be a true bro.”

Oh, Fak really doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, huh? “Of course there’s like, the other obvious tension in the room—” Oh okay, so he does know— “Between us.” What.

“What’s up?” You blink, voice going high for a second. Carmen cannot stop staring at Fak, face entirely unmoving, unblinking. Neither of you are sure what emotion to feel right now. Is Leo’s speech still fucking going? You’ve completely tuned it out, if it is.

Fak gestures to the air between you two. “Well like, there’s obviously a really intense sort of rivals to romance dynamic happening here…”

What.

“And like,” He raises his hands, in defense— Of what exactly? You couldn’t be less sure. “I could totally see that happening, in the future.”

It takes everything in you, to just hold your lips closed together. You have to bite down on your top lip, to not scream laugh in his face. “For sure, man.”

He nods, continuing, “But right now, I just don’t think I’m ready to take what you’re giving, y’know?” Holy shit, wait, is that how Carmen feels? Is that what the fuck is going on in his head? “Just not ready for all—” He gestures to you in general. “This.”

“Little harsh.” You tilt your head. “Fuckin’ cool it, Fak.” Carmen barks, in tandem with you. Oh, he’s upset. He wasn’t set on his emotions, this entire time, but he seems to have now settled in the upset category.

“Right.” Fak nods. “And so, I’m sorry I can’t be that for you… And I know it’s gonna take time to recover, but please come back to The Bear, when you’re ready. You’re… You’re a better repairman than me. We need you.”

You put a hand over your mouth, to cover your shit eating grin, trying your best to compose yourself and look sad. The best way out of this is to just agree with him. It’d take far too much energy to clarify everything for Fak. You’re nodding too much. “…Yeah, y’know, Fak… I will consider that. All those words you said? I’m gonna… Gonna really take all of it to heart, dude. I really appreciate… The directness— Y’know, that takes… Strength, man.”

“Thank you.” He nods. “Still friends?”

You did not realize you were even friends to start. And not in the insecure way, this time. You nod. “For sure, dude.”

You and Carmen both watch him walk away, in perplexed silence. Carm’s the first to break it. “…Was that anything—” “Obviously fucking not.”

He’s going to reply something witty in response, and it’s going to make you both feel like everything’s okay, again, but then he seems to see something that scares him straight. He turns to the back of the bar, aimlessly grabbing bottles, for no reason. Literally no reason, everyone sat for the speeches, what’s he doing—?

“You still serving?” Older man, oval glasses. He stands in front of your bar. Ah. Kinda rude of him, maybe that’s why Carmen’s giving the cold shoulder to this guy? Whatever. You'll serve him. Just because you're Chicago's Kindest doesn't mean everyone else has to be.

“Yessir, what can I fix for you?”

“Manhattan with bourbon?”

You salute, “Aye aye.” And get to mixing the drink. You’re pretty sure Carmen must know this guy, because he’s already set out the bourbon, vermouth, and angostura. It doesn’t take long to fix the drink.

When you go to hand it to the man, he seems to notice the mop of blond curls behind you. “Aye, Carmen? Jimmy told me you’d be workin’ tonight.”

A small, tentative, meek wave from Carmen. He sniffs. “Yeah. Hi, Uncle Lee.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say. Pulling the drink away from his hand, as Uncle Lee reaches for it. “You’re Uncle Lee?”

“My reputation precedes me?” He chuckles, nodding.

Carmen comes up beside you, and witnesses a smile from you that he’s never seen from you, and ideally hopes will never be directed at him. It’s the slowness of it, it’s a smile, but you’re doing it purely to bare your teeth.

“It sure does.” Give him a chance, it’s been four years, give him a chance. “I was a friend of Mikey’s.”

He fails the chance. “Ah… I see, friend, ya did a little—” He taps the side of his nose, sniffing. “Together?”

He really fucking fails the chance. Your smile grows, painfully so. The apples of your cheeks so high they practically close your eyes for you. You laugh a deeply fake laugh. “Hahaha, yeah, yeah, that’s exactly what we used to do. Uncle Lee.”

“Oh!” You tilt your wrist quickly, pouring the bourbon Manhattan in the bar sink. “Ah, fuck. Hand slipped.”

Lee is a bit taken aback. “Really—?”

“Really.” You repeat. Putting the glass down. “And y’know, I could remake that for you, but I dunno if you wanna trust my shaky junkie hands.”

Holy fuck. Carmen has always been great at keeping his reactions hidden, and still is, so Uncle Lee cannot tell how out of character this is, of you. You’re nice, you don’t bite— Or Carmy didn’t think you did, because of the amount of grace you gave him, last Friday.

“Lee, I’m gonna level with you.” You cross your arms, smile fading, but there’s still that venomous lilt in your voice. “I’ve been thinking for the last, I dunno, two years, what I’d say to you, if I had the displeasure of seeing you.”

There’s a pile of forks behind your bar, that you’d asked Richie for, just in case this situation came to a head. Just in case this fucking idiot came by. But it just doesn’t feel right, now. Doesn't feel right to leap over the counter and stab him in the neck with a fork. Though you've imagined it, and you still actively are.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking around the venue. “But we’re at this beautiful wedding, and Vinnie and Mira don’t deserve to have their reception ruined by us causing a scene.” You gesture to the air between you, almost comical.

He shrugs, “Better than Mikey, in that regard, then.” You know what he’s referring to, despite not being there.

You nod, smiling real big now, really baring your teeth, now. “His fuckin’ house, Lee.”

“I could have your ass fired, y’know.” “So do it.”

You lean forward, elbows on the counter. “I’m not getting paid for this. Please, get me fired. Snitch to Uncle J, c’mon, fire me. I’m delighted to get cut. Do it.”

After what feels like eons of a silent stare down, Uncle Lee throws a fake punch. Carmen’s the only one that flinches, immediately rearing his own fist back, stopping short when Lee does.

You’re still just coy, elbows on the counter. Lee scoffs, “Cokehead.” Of course.

“Yessir.” You just lightly shake your head, standing up straight again, smiling, amused, delighted, even. “That’s me. That’s who I am.” It’s not, but there’s no point in arguing with him— Especially when you agreeing just seems to piss him off more.

You’ve given Lee nothing to work with, to insult you, so it takes him a moment to generate something. “You’re—”

You don’t let him get it out, putting a hand up for him to give it a rest. “Lee, I’m not startin’ a scene, it’s a gorgeous wedding.”

“Oh, how grown of you—” “But, if you wanna have a scene, just wait in the parking lot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think—” “I do. I do think, Lee.”

You lean forward, again, shrugging, speaking nonchalant, speaking with your hands, casually. “I wanna make it so clear, for you, too. I’m not gonna crack my knuckles, not gonna make some empty threats, not gonna scream in your face— I’m not gonna tell you I’m gonna kill you or anything like that. Because obviously, I wouldn’t do that.”

You nod, slowly, methodically, clearly. “What I am gonna say, is that I have been a bartender on and off since I was twenty-one. I was an E-M-T, for three years— All in our beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois. The sheer volume of geriatric white guys I have had to pull to the concrete in a full nelson in both professions— Insurmountable, Lee. So again, to be, so fucking clear, Lee— If I see you outside, I’m taking you to the fucking pavement, and I’m not getting off.”

Uncle Lee’s got no comeback, for this, but he’d be dead in the ground before he just lets someone have the last word. This is why Uncle Jimmy is more successful. “Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ would.”

You grin. God, those forks are tempting. Resist. You keep your hands busy by grabbing a maraschino cherry from it's jar behind your bar to snack on. “Enjoy your night, Lee.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ bi—” A fork flies over his shoulder, clattering behind him. Not from you, from Carmen.

He speaks for you. “Enjoy your night, Uncle Lee.”

It feels good to be backed. Carmen’s here, and he’s on your team. You tack on, waving goodbye to the fucker, “Back lot, Uncle Lee.”

Lee pivots his gaze to Carmen, he rolls his eyes, disappointed. “Alright, Donna.”

Carmen goes for another fork, you stop his hand, holding it there, for a second. The metal clatters behind the counter. Lee’s pleased enough with the provocation. Men like him don’t leave until they’ve won something in their heads. He leaves, on his way to the punch bowl, since he’s determined he’s not getting shit from the bar tonight. You and Carmen just watch him, like prey, making sure he leaves without looking back.

“You’ve got teeth.” Carmen’s first to speak, cleaning a glass, both of you looking straight ahead. You nod.

“I do.”

“You don’t bite much.”

You shrug. “Try not to.”

Carmen considers the fact that what he wants to say would mean sticking his foot in his mouth. He then considers the fact that nothing he could say now will ever be worse than what he said then. He keeps rubbing away at a perfectly shining glass.

“You didn’t bite me.”

“I didn’t.” You nod, and your body goes on autopilot, as you start making a drink no one’s ordered. Just need something to do. “I couldn’t.”

He doesn’t like that answer. “I deserved it.”

“I deserved it, too.” You’re not a big fan of your own answer, either. But you can’t say it’s not true. You deserved it. Just some failure leech trying to reattach yourself to people through merry good deeds, as if they’d add up to fucking anything—

“No, you didn’t.” He pivots to you, tone inarguable. He puts the glass down. It’s a lowball, you need a lowball, you grab it from him.

“Do you like cognac or vodka?” You ignore his words, but you look him in the eyes. You regret it.

He lets you get away with it, because he is absolutely not the one allowed to lead the conversation, here. He did enough bulldozing, before.

“I dunno, I don’t really drink much.” You squint, you’ve seen his apartment. He clarifies. “Other than wine n’ beer.”

You nod. You opt for cognac. He watches you, for a moment, before asking. “What’re you—”

You’re already finished, by this point, sliding the glass over to him. “Black lavender latte. Cognac n’ coffee liqueur. If it’s too strong, let me know, I can add more milk.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Is all he can think to say. He takes a sip. It’s far behind in his long list of regrets, but certainly one of them in the way he spoke to you, is that there’s a strong chance he will never have a mixologist as talented as you working at The Bear.

“Hmm.” You hum, not watching him drink it, because you won’t be able to handle either reaction— You won’t be able to handle disgust nor pleasure. You never want to look at Carmen again. He’s also all you want to see. This sucks. You suck. Carmen sucks.

“Thank you for the coffee earlier, too.” You’re overjoyed at the verbal confirmation he drank it.

“Figured you’d need one.”

“I did.” He thinks about it, and decides to take the bullet. “Needed yours.”

Your breath hitches, and he can’t tell whether or not that’s a good thing. He doesn’t get the chance to ask, as a meek and overly sweaty man comes up to your bar. There are bar stools at your counter, though they’ve been tucked far under it to keep the flow of traffic moving. But the man points down to the stool, silently asking. You nod.

“You can sit, sir.”

He’s delighted. He sits. “Sorry, I’m not gonna sit long, I just uh— Just—” He turns around pointing to the Maid of Honour, who’s just gotten on the hot mic for her speech. “I uhm, it’s— Usually the bar is empty, when uh, when people are talking.”

“That they are.” You nod, smile soft. “Can I get anything for you, or d’you just wanna sit? No shame in that.”

“I— I, uh, if it’s not a bother— I was just wonderin’ if uhm— Totally fine, if it’s— If it is— Do uhm, do you— Do you do mocktails?”

Carmen watches you grow ten times softer, in demeanor. It’s wonderful, how you’re able to flip on a dime. It’s wonderful what you’re willing to give to people, when they deserve it. You nod. “Yeah, sir. What’s your drink?”

“Oh— I— Anything’s fine, really.” He plays with the loose strings on the cuff of his left sleeve.

You tilt your head, recognizing his nervousness. “If it’s not too personal, sir, are you…” You debate the best way to say it. “Taking twelve steps?”

He looks scared, initially, to be caught; but then he looks at your face, and he knows he has nothing to be worried about. He nods. “One— Two months, two weeks, one day.”

“That’s huge.”

He shrugs. “It’s a start.”

“A start is huge.” You emphasize, and he nods, because that’s inarguable. “What was your drink before? I can make a mocktail of that— Or maybe you’d prefer somethin’ total opposite?”

“Oh! Yeah, I uh, I liked uh, old-fashioneds, but you can’t really make those without whiskey—”

“Yeah, you can.” You’re already grabbing your shaker. “You just use barley tea. I can do that— If you want that.”

He thinks on it, for a second. Debates whether nostalgia is good or not. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”

While you work on it, the guy feels enough confidence, bestowed by you, to tell you about himself. “I liked sitting. That was the thing I liked about drinking. The sitting and the talking and the feeling good about it.”

“I hear that.” You watch the tea steep, nodding. “Reason why the phrase is ‘takes the edge off’.”

Carmen has to turn around. He’s listening intently, but he has to turn around. Again, he’s pretty good at hiding his tells, but you’re pretty good at reading them. And you’d be able to tell his flat expression is the equivalent of being absolutely fucking bug eyed on anyone else. You’re a bartender. You were a paramedic. You have seen so many people, on their worst day— Seen so many people like this guy, like his brother. You have taken care of so many addicts.

The number of times he said loser or junkie to your face, and the way that that was what you always fought back on. It will not stop replaying, in Carmen’s head. The way you think that wasn’t okay, but the way he spoke about you was. It’s all just nauseating. You’re so good to everyone but you. You defend everyone but you. Carmen's almost furious about this, though he doesn't feel he has the right to be. You should've treated him like Uncle Lee. He acted exactly like Uncle Lee. 

“It can make it easier, to be at the bar, for some people, I've found.” You continue, still making conversation with the man as you stir the steeped tea into the glass, over ice. “Makes you feel normal.” Forced sobriety is definitely in the top five, of the most ostracizing human experiences.

He nods, relieved to have someone. “Most people don’t get that.”

You nod, strain out the virgin old-fashioned, and push the glass to him across the counter. “Well, I get that.”

He takes a sip of the mocktail, it’s perfectly nostalgic in a way that doesn’t hurt. “Thank you.” He’s thanking you for a lot more than the drink. 

“A pleasure.” You nod. He stands up, tucking the stool back under the counter, as the speeches end. It won’t be long until the bar is crowded again, and he knows it’ll be too much, for him or you. You add. “Good luck with month three. It's a heavy one.”

“If you work it and you’re worth it.” He recites the line incorrectly on purpose, it’s an important one, but you both still laugh at it. Like an inside joke, practically. You give one quick dap, he puts a twenty in your tip jar, and walks off, with less sweat, and more spring in his step, this time. Good.

When he walks away, before guests start to stand, there’s a lull of silence. You don’t need to look at Carmen to know he has a million different thoughts, and a million more follow ups. 

“You have questions?”

“None of my business.” He sniffs, awkwardly. “Unless you want it to be.”

Why did he have to fucking say it like that. Why did he have to put the ball in your court. Carmen fucking sucks. Y’know what, no, turn it on his ass.

“Did you give the New York Exec my number?”

“No.” The reply is instant. He doesn’t get thrown by the topic change in the slightest. You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but the speed of it is still a little surprising. Like it wasn’t something that was ever up for debate.

“What’d you say to him, then?”

This is when he looks embarrassed, just slightly. This part was up for debate, seemingly. “We—”

“Everyone, please stay in your seats for just a moment, our wonderful catering crew will be coming around to serve you!” Says… Vinnie’s mom? Mira’s mom? They all kind of blend together. It’s not long after this, that Syd rolls by with Marcus and a cart of food. She’s starting with you, despite the fact that you’re not a guest. Sweetie.

“Salmon or chicken?”

“Just gimme both, we’ll split it.” You nod your head to Carmen. “Best of both worlds.”

And then, the game of eye contact conversation ensues. A game that Carmen nor Marcus can comprehend.

‘I asked you’ Syd glares.

‘You can’t just starve him out’ You deadpan.

‘Who said?’

“Syd.” You say aloud. She sighs, handing you both plates, mumbling ‘whatevers’, walking off to serve the actual guests. No time to bicker. You look to Marcus, worried. “Heard about the cake, how’s it goin?”

He shrugs but he’s smirking, proud and bad at hiding it, he hands you a paper plate with a little chocolate cupcake. The floral frosting job is simple, and you know if he had more time, you’d probably be looking at a full realistic rose, but it’s still beautiful. “You tell me. Taste test.”

“Lil sacrilege, to do dessert before dinner, but okay.” You grab a fork from your pile, digging in. “Oh fuck,” You have to laugh. “Marcus— You stress me the fuck out, how do you have time to make shit this good?”

It’s a built-in habit for you, to hand your fork to Carmen. He gives you a moment to realize or pull back. You should but you don’t. He takes it, thankful, and tries the cupcake for himself.

“S’fire, Chef.” He points the fork, emphatically. “‘Specially with what you had.”

“Thank you, Chef.” Marcus nods.

You tilt your head, curious, “Do you even have time to test, though? If this sucked you wouldn’t have time to remake the full cake anyways, would you?”

“No.” He answers bluntly, and you both snort. He adds, “Just wanted to make sure you got dessert, over here.” Just wanted to make sure you ate something.

“Marcus…” You pout, overcome by the sweetness of the sweets Chef. You’ve gotta return the favour. “Gin and juice still your go-to?”

“You tryna get me fucked up at work?”

You shrug, grinning. “Are you tryna get fucked up at work?”

He’s going to say yes, but then he pauses, and looks to his boss. Looks to Carmen. Ah, you don’t run his kitchen— Get that through your head. Of course, Marcus can’t just drink—

Carmen shrugs, smiling, “Are you tryna get fucked up at work, Chef?”

Marcus claps his hands, grinning. “Yessir!”

That makes you feel a little lighter. You nod. “Gin and juice, comin’ up.”

You pour out the pineapple juice— Marcus’ preferred juice, of course you remembered. And Marcus leans over the bar, to watch you stir in the gin, even if it’s just a stupid simple drink, the guy loves to learn.

He asks, “How much they payin’ you, tonight?”

You shake your head, “Tips. Nothin’ else.”

Carmen’s ears burn, at that, while he evenly divides and plates out the salmon and chicken plates so you both have a little of everything. If things were normal you could just eat off each other's plates.

Marcus tilts his head, just as surprised. “You in debt, too?”

“Just to Mikey.” You smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m doin’ this in exchange for Uncle J getting me out of work early, a couple weeks back.”

“That’s it?”

“I was in a rush.” You shrug, measuring out the simple syrup. “Got like thirty missed texts from Syd, I thought someone fuckin’ died, didn’t have time to bargain.”

“Wait—” Marcus cannot help but grin, nearly laughing, at the ridiculousness of it, at how bad you got fucked over, by your own permission. “You’re here because you… left work… to go deliver Nat’s baby?”

“Yessir.” Are you fucking serious? Carmen can’t help but stare at the side of your head, for just a few seconds, before going back down to the plates. You’re in this hellscape of a bar, three states from your home, because you were delivering his niece? You did that for them already, and promised yourself for this, in order to do that?

“You know me,” You hand Marcus his glass, and you shouldn’t make the joke, but you can’t help yourself. “Modern day Christ.”

Marcus stifles down his snort, turning his head away from Carmen, to look at the ground. You do the same. There is something painful, about it all, for everyone; but Carmen can’t say that pain isn’t deserved, on his end, so he takes it. You’re allowed to joke about it all you want, if that’s what it takes for you to feel lighter.

A timer goes off on Marcus’ phone. He takes a sip from his gin and juice, nodding in approval, “Oh, shit— Alright, cool times up—” He lifts the glass to you, you hurriedly get the point and grab a random empty cup to clink with him, cheers.

“I’ll be back.” He says. Doubtful, you think. But you nod and wave him off nonetheless.

“If T needs a drink, tell her to take five.” You haven’t seen her tonight, but you realize yourself, again, once you say this. Not your kitchen. “Uh— If that’s, that’s okay—”

“Tell Chef to take a break if she needs it, we haven’t seen her.” Says Carmen, beside you. We. Don’t read into it. He hates you, and you hate him, actually. Carmen sucks, and so do you.

Marcus nods, and makes his mad dash off as a tsunami of guests that have just gotten their plates decide now that they want a drink with their meal. Sonofabitch.

God, you need a break. It’s really hitting you, and your stomach. As full as everyone’s tried to keep you, you really need to just sit down and have your fucking plate. Working behind a bar is a nightmare on the feet and back— Your earrings feel heavy, and your bracelets feel like handcuffs. It’s just all too much, without a break. You need a nap and maybe a thirty-minute session of just staring at a wall.

But the tsunami.

Carmen watches your side profile, and thinking back in his head, the collage of memories forming your face— He’s never seen you genuinely fatigued before. He’s seen you in the middle of the night, he’s seen you caught off guard, seen you distressed— But you’ve never really been one to ask for a break. It’s always yes of course it’s done, with you. It’s your best and worst trait.

As the crowd closes in, and your face morphs into a smile, ready to serve, Carmen claps his hands together, calling out to the sea. “Ey, sorry everyone, we’re just gonna take a quick thirty, alright? Union mandated.”

There is no such thing as a Bartender’s Union, you and Carmen very well know that. You’re about to call it off and say it’s fine before someone can throw an empty glass at your head or something, but instead, a scrawny but wide built, deeply New York Italian man, at the front of the crowd nods.

And as he nods, the crowd groans. He looks deeply offended by this. He turns to his fellow guests. “Where do y’all get off? We fought for those thirty-minute breaks, you fucks!” This quiets them pretty quickly. “We can live with the fuckin’ punch bowl for thirty minutes, c’mon.”

Carmen gets close enough to whisper to you, but far enough that it’s still not personal. Far enough that he still hates you. “Most of the family does or did service work. Say ‘union mandated’ and you can do anythin’”

You smile, watching the crowd dissipate, you crack a joke, because that’s probably what you’re supposed to do. “Union mandated… Murder?”

“Revolt, y’mean?” “Is that an offer?” “I’d ride for you.”

It’s supposed to be light and fun, but you can’t stop yourself, you can’t play the part and it comes out. “Would you?”

That one hurts. It all hurts, but that one really gets Carmen. That you’d have genuine reason to have pause about his dedication to you. Not your fault, his.

You grab your plate from his side of the counter, embarrassed by your instinctual prod. “Sorry.”

He’s not embarrassed by his. “Stop apologizing.”

There’s a heavy silence, before Carmen adds, “I’m supposed to be fuckin’ apologizing.”

There are no more interruptions. Fak isn’t going to come by, patrons are leaving you be, the staff is either helping Marcus or serving food. There is nothing left, to interrupt you two. This is going to happen. Christ, why does Never Let Me Down Again have to be playing right now? That’s not a fucking wedding song. This is too dramatic and simultaneously awkward and clunky and bad. There is no somethings left for you to do. There is nothing left to do, but talk. Nothing left to do but escape the void, ideally together. Please let it be together. You hate to admit it, but you want it to be together.

There is no good place to sit. So, you pick up your plate, and one of the many forks from your pile. With a sigh, you crouch down, and slide yourself underneath the counter, sitting with your legs folded, so Carmen can join you. You nod to him, to let him know that he can in fact join you.

He does. You take a few bites, in silence, before he breaks it.

“I didn’t mean a fuckin’ word.”

“It’s okay if you did.” You can’t look up from your plate. You deserved it.

He says your name, with a severity, to it. “—I didn’t mean a fucking word.”

“Then why’d you say it?”

“I—” Despite rehearsing what he wanted to say, and having ample stage to say it, he does not know how to say any of it, anymore. “I was like, like, jealous? But not in the— Not in the normal way.”

“Normal way?”

“Like, I didn’t— Well I did— But I like—” He puts his fork down, “I saw you as competition.”

You don’t know what to say, and so he keeps going. “I saw you like… Like being so perfect at everything, and being so… Being so what everyone needed, and you being there, and and— I felt so… the way you can just do that— Like— Like you can just be you and it just works. And I just fucking can’t.”

A talent you share with his brother. A talent Carmen envied in Mikey, and thus, envies in you.

“And then I got so… weird about that thought. Like you being you is— You’re for everyone. And I got this idea in my head that…” He cringes, trying to find better wording in his head for it, and he can’t. “That you were for me.”

“But you’re not for me—” “Ouch.” “—Not what I meant.”

He thanks you, internally, for being willing to add levity, right now. “I lo— I like you, so much. And I don’t want you to change. If you were like…” He half gestures to himself, which you’re not a big fan of the deprecation, but you let it slide. “Cold, and not for anyone, you wouldn’t be… you.”

Carmen realized as much, watching you tonight. Watching you interact with full strangers to long time friends. If you were callus, you wouldn’t be you. If you didn’t love his family as much as he did, he wouldn’t have attached himself to you, so quickly. He loves the way that you love. The way that you can’t turn it off. It’s not that Carmen isn’t special. It’s that you are so fucking special. He’s fucking stupid for not connecting those dots, earlier.

He picks up his fork again, needing to do something with his hands. Your brows remain furrowed, as you try to walk back how he spiraled from what and where. 

“So, you just wanted to take me down a peg?”

He shakes his head. “It— I— With Mikey, I— I saw some shit that made me think that I was just… fillin’ a gap, or you were just being so good to me out of like… Guilt.” He chews down on his salmon. “And I couldn’t find your fuckin’ invoice, so I just kept drilling into my head that I was just… Charity.”

“You’re not charity.” You’re quick to refute.

“You didn’t fail Mikey.” So is he.

Oh Christ. You nod, but you don’t believe it. “You weren’t wrong to say it.” You have to put your plate down. “I— I don’t see you like I saw Mikey, at all. But I do…” You trail off, just looking at him has you tearing up.

He leaves home so early. He comes home so late. He looks so tired. Gaunt. Has he been eating? Did he light his oven on fire again? Remember how he looked in the freezer. Remember how Mikey looked in the freezer? Remember how they are so so different. They are so different but you still can’t stop connecting every fragment and taking it as a sign and worrying so fucking much, so fucking paranoid—

“Do what?” He swallows his last bite of chicken, and you can’t stop looking at him and fuck you just can’t hold it back, this time. You were doing so good about this. This isn’t even the point of the conversation— Well, kind of. Just breathe.

As your eyes begin to water, he sets his plate aside on the floor, reaching out immediately, worried, immediately. He pauses, hand floating in the air. Hesitating. “Fuck—Can I?”

Eyes barely open, you nod. He’s quick to take your plate from your hands, set it aside, and hug you there. It’s awkward, underneath a bar counter, half sitting, half crouching, grappling you. Carmen does not wish to be anywhere else.  

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and babble, unable to hold back a fear that’s been long standing, since the day you met him.

“Sometimes you remind me of Mikey so much and I get so scared and I just— Fuck, I just— Please don’t kill yourself, Carmen.” His arms wrap around just a bit tighter, as do yours. “I know that’s selfish—”

“It’s not.” Mumbled, to your neck. Skin to skin isn’t really the focal point, here, but there is a lurking part of his subconscious fearing that he will never be able to hug you like this, again. Never be your rock. “I won’t.”

It’s silent, for a minute. You believe him. He holds you there, and you believe him.

“Why did you think all that? That you were filler?” You pull back, just a bit, to look at his face. “Did I do something to make you feel like that?”

“No— God no. You’re—” He swallows. It feels stupid now, to even say how his fucking tantrum started, you had it so much worse, in your head. Why didn’t you tell him? “I was looking for your invoice, and—”

“I forgot the booths, by the way.” You recall the shoddy invoice you wrote. It’s a stupid time to interrupt, but as you slowly grow more comfortable, inches from his face, it feels like the time to be stupid. “And taxes. I owe you something more like eighteen-seventy.”

“You don’t owe me shit.”

“I’m paying back a Berzatto, somehow.”

“Where’d that money come from?”

“Where’d your tirade come from?”

He swallows again, getting back to the point. “I found a folder. Called ice chips, or something like that— But it wasn’t for ice. It was, for you.”

You look at him, genuinely perplexed for a second. Then you get it. And it makes a lot more sense, why Carmen knows you failed Mikey—Try as he might to deny it. “Oh… You found my Ice folder.”

“Fuck’s that mean?” You’re glad, honestly, that he’s never had a reason to learn what it means. It’s fair. You had to teach it to Mikey, too.

“Ice. I-C-E, Carmen. It’s an acronym.” You spell it out, slow. “In Case of Emergency. I-C-E.”

It knocks the wind out of him, immediately. He’s extra glad he’s holding onto you, because he’s starting to feel untethered. “What?”

You nod. It’s time to walk him through it. You have to tell him. “I made Mikey keep some sort of emergency stuff as a fail-safe, for when he forgot people wanted him alive.” When Carmen’s quiet, you continue. “I was in his work cabinet, I think Richie was in his bedside, you and Sug were in his wallet.”

His stomach lurches, at the idea of being the emergency his brother always had on him. “You knew he was suicidal?”

Who didn’t? You think, but don’t say, because that’s not fair. Mikey cut him out, how could he know?

“Everyone’s suicidal, when they’re trying to get sober.”

“What?”

“What?” You parrot back. It’s both your turns, to squint at the other, confused beyond belief now. How is he confused? You’re first to ask. “Carmen, what was in my ice folder?”

“Anniver— Oh my fucking God.” He unwraps himself from you, because he’s frankly too ashamed to touch you, realizing everything he misunderstood. “Oh, my fucking God.”

You let him go, though you don’t particularly want to. He’s probably realizing he’s hugging the enemy. 

“Carmen—?” “You didn’t fucking date Mikey.”

“What?!” You jump, your head hits the bottom of the base of the bar’s sink. “Fuck! Ow, no— What?!”

It’s a mess of limbs and emotions, as he grabs your head haphazardly, seeing if you’re hurt— It honestly hurts more, to be pulled around like this. “Are you o—” You don’t let him finish, grabbing at his wrists, ignoring your sore head.

“You thought I’d fuck your brother and then—What— try to fuckin’ get the whole set?” You’re cringing at the thought. This had just never come up in your mind. You would’ve set him straight, if it did. It was way worse in his head. Why didn’t he tell you? “I— Carmy, babydoll, are you fucking insane?”

You say nice pet names, when you’re perplexed. You’ve got a pattern of doing so. He also has no comeback for this, completely mum. You release his wrists. You add, again, aghast. “How old do you think I am?”

“Ah— As old as Syd?” “Correct.” “So, twenty-eight?”

“Turning, but yeah.” You nod, like a teacher walking him through a problem. “And how old was Mikey?”

“Forty something.” “Forty-three.” “No one remembers their brothers’ age—” “Sixteen years. Carmen.”

You press your hands over your eyes. “And listen, I get at a point age is just a number but I was twenty-five when I met him and he was already fucking forty— I grew up with Muppet Babies and he grew up with Muppets. Period end of sentence.”

You sigh. This situation isn’t funny at all, but you feel a load lighten off of you significantly. And also the situation is extremely funny. It’s hard to be mad at someone this thrown off. 

“It’s just— Listen, do I think Mikey’s hot? Absolutely—”

“Alright—” He cringes, putting a hand in the air, asking you to lay off this train of thought.

“Oh, what do you want me to say ‘your genetic make-up fucking sucks actually’? No, you have a hot family, Carmen.”

“Say this in any other way but this one.”

“I did not date your brother, Carmen.” You finalize, he breathes lighter. “Think about it for like more than two seconds. Richie would’ve fuckin’ run his mouth about it immediately— Would’ve said you’re getting sloppy seconds or call me a fuckin’ homie hopper—”

“I did think that he’d say that, yeah.”

“Well fuckin’ think harder on it, next time—” “Well, what about the joint bank account?”

The most romantic paperwork he’d ever seen. It makes you pause, and Carmen’s considers a universe where you’re just the most incredible pathological liar in existence. 

“I made him make it.” You finally say, saddened just thinking about the failsafe that didn’t fucking work. “I didn’t put any money in it.”

“Why’d you want it, then?” The idea of you dating his brother quiets in his head, now he just wants to listen.

“So I could keep track of his spending and withdrawals.” You pick up your fork and twirl it around, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Need something to do with your hands. “Mostly his withdrawals.”

Carmen thinks about it, trying to tie together the red strings in his head without asking you first. “So you could see if he was buying.”

“If he knew he was being watched, he was less inclined to deal.” You shrug and nod. “Plus I wanted him to get into the habit of keeping savings.”

“Lotta good that did.” Carmen can’t help but laugh, pitifully, at that. “Everythin’ got claimed, when he kicked it.”

You shake your head, you tuck your knees to your chest. “Not everything.”

He just looks at you, curious, waiting for you to explain. Mikey had so much credit card debt— Everything he had outside of fucking tomato cans was claimed. 

You shrug. “Not the accounts he wasn’t sole proprietor on.”

Joint bank account. It was partially your money, technically. It deferred to you. Carmen’s head just falls over, another painful realization of another thing you did, that he got completely wrong. You never gave Mikey a cent. You just gave him the protection of your name and credit score.

“Why’d you do all that, for him?”

Holy shit, he doesn’t know. Carmen doesn’t actually know you killed Mikey. You live in a world, still, where Carmen doesn’t completely rightfully blame you. You tap your fingers on your knees. Staring aimlessly. There is nothing else to do.

“Anyone ever tell you why I get called Chip?”

“I asked Richie. Said to ask you.” Carmen shakes his head, he’s a bit sick of himself, for being almost excited to get an answer about this. “Said it was personal.”

You squint and snort. “Since when does Richie give a fuck about personal?”

Carmen smiles, finally, and tucks his knees to his chest to mimic you. “Since me, I guess.”

“Good influence.” You smile, trying to distract from the nervousness, thrumming hard in your chest. Spit collects in your throat like it’s trying to choke you. “I uhm… Chippy is, uh, Mikey started calling me Chip or Chippy cause of uhm—”

You take a moment, one deep breath. A breath of air in the world before Carmen knows. A sanctimonious breath.

You pull at the long black rope chain on your neck, pulling it out from underneath your top, where it’s always been safely tucked. Not hidden necessarily, just always close to your chest. Close to your heart.

“It’s a joke, about— It’s like—”

Just do it, Chip. Let it rip.

“It’s—”

You hold out your fist for him to put his hand out and take it. Carmen gets the point and holds his palm out. You press the pendant into his hand. Holding your hand over it, for a moment, as if you could decide now that actually he shouldn’t be allowed to see this. Like there’s still an escape option, somehow.

You move your hand, you try to speak calmly, as he stares. And the text on the large round pendant stares back at him.

To Thine Own Self Be True.

“Sobriety chip.” Unity, Service, Recovery.

A proud and large 3 months, in the middle of the triangle, leers back at Carmen.

“I was— I was Mikey’s sponsor.”

Now y'all in my asks see why I was waiting, eh?

Ya caught on! Well, after thinking collectively, ya caught on. Some of you got it quick. Anyways, I shouldn't be talking about this like it's some gotcha, it's deeply painful.

A lot of hard confirmations! Fuck! This conversation was so hard to navigate, because I was like-- There's just so much for them to catch up on, and so they keep like moving forward and so I was like wait I have to go back and address this-- No. That's not how most real convos like this work, they just keep running forward, they can clarify later. Such a weird brain challenge. I was tweaking. I hope it's sensical to read? If it's not, dw, i'll walk into the sea about it.

Can you believe this chapter began with Syd/Chip/Richie? Absolutely bonkers. We started with getting ready in a hotel/taking a flight. We were so young, then. I've gotta go watch season 3, so don't send me spoilers, but please send me literally any and all thoughts about this chapter. I really fuckin-- Rah.

I'm happy with this chapter and I honestly think I will probably make a separate post sometime this week showing bits you might've missed-- So much of this was me harkening back to those first three chapters. I went back and reread them recently and I was like woah. I don't know how I did the thing where the writing style felt distant and slowly became close as they became close as characters, but I did feel like that was a thing. In the early chapters. Having to recreate that distant feeling here? Oh fuck. Brutalizing feeling.

Oh but on the more cute side, if you also see Tony as Desi, I was thinkin like a lehenga style blouse with all the work, and like, some black flared pants? and she's got big fuckin jhumkas, OF COURSE!!! OF COURSE BRO!!! But I just left it at semi-cultural so everyone could have fun, hehehe

I feel almost certain, someone's gonna be missing from this tag list, and for that, a thousand pardons, I am gonna put it in my notes app so I don't forget next time, mbmbmb, also added people that did not ask but you are so frequent that i feel like you're just forgetting to ask? idk if you wanna get taken off always just ask dw

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

anyways, if you wanna be added send me your thoughts/analysis/diagnosis at length + ask to be added and i will ! try! sometimes they get lost and i am sorry abt that but i do try!

Next Part

[lotties-ashwagandha]

UP TO SOMETHING

ellie williams x dina x fem!reader

in the night, you sneak to one of the patrol outposts just outside of jackson for some time alone together (sfw despite how it sounds). word count 737. dedicated to @webism

“I don’t trust stairs,” Ellie says, raising her eyebrows as she looks up at you from her book of puns. “They’re always up to something.” 

Dina groans. She stands, shaking her head as she goes to shut the open window – the night has grown cold, even as winter is beginning to fade in Jackson. The mountains spare you no warmth. The three of you sit on the cold wooden floor of one of the patrol posts just outside of Jackson, one of the few places you’ve learned you can safely sneak out to for some time alone. It’s risky to go beyond the confines of the settlement, even with the area being relatively clear, but infected are no foreign danger to any of you.  

“Did you hear about the new restaurant on the moon?” Ellie tries again. “I heard the food was good, but the place didn’t have any atmosphere.” 

You smile, and Dina makes a face as she sits back down again. “I’m going to burn that book someday,” she threatens, though you know she’s enjoying Ellie’s puns regardless of if she’s willing to admit it. 

“Well, I could always tell a wind joke. They always blow the right way.” 

“Your wind puns really do blow,” you retort – at this Dina laughs, and you feel pride wash over you. 

“Really?” Ellie sighs, looking at Dina. “You laughed at that?” 

“It was funny!”

“You have a horrible sense of humor,” she says. 

Playfully, Dina scoffs. “Is yours much more sophisticated?” 

Ellie shrugs and lays down – a dramatic show of defeat. “Fine, sit over there with the joke master then.” 

“I think I will,” Dina decides, and moves to sit next to you. She leans against you, lets out a heavy sigh – one of contentment, and you can feel peace coming over her as she grows a bit heavier against you. 

Ellie sits back up again. She craves to be a part of the closeness shared between the two of you, and moves closer before stopping to reach for her guitar, which she had been insistent on sneaking out with you. She tunes it carefully, concentrating on the subtle sounds coming from each string, and when everything is to her liking she begins to play softly. 

The notes begin to sound familiar as Ellie plays them. You realize she’s playing the instrumental of one of your favorite songs that you discovered through an old record she and Dina had given you for your birthday last year. You can’t help but smile as she plays, so mindlessly strumming yet prompting such joy within you. 

Dina comes to a stand beside you. She reaches a hand down for you to take, and you look up at her, confused. 

“Come on,” she urges, “I can’t dance by myself.” 

 You stay sitting, but when she tilts her head at you and gives you a look of severity, you are drawn to your feet. 

Dina smiles and pulls you close to her. Her hands loop around to rest at the base of your neck, and you keep yours at her waist. You sway along to the music Ellie provides with her guitar – she hums quietly along to the tune, and you watch the contentment in her expression as she plays and watches you dance with Dina. A party of just the three of you, warm even in the chill of the night, every threat beyond the outpost forgotten. Life blooms beautifully, it cuts through the cold. 

You still when Dina kisses you. It’s almost lazy, telling of the comfort between you, the familiarity in the way her hands travel down your body and the warmth in the way she looks at you when you pull away at the stopping of the music. 

Soon Ellie is at your side. Dina pulls back slightly, your hands in hers and fingers entwined as Ellie leans to kiss you. It’s different, she is more dominant in her movements, and you remain to be consumed by her love. 

“My turn,” Ellie says, pulling you toward her, preparing to dance with you – Dina sits down with the guitar, playing and playing again the only three chords she knows from Ellie trying to teach her once. The song she plays is awful, the sounds make no sense jumbled together, yet it provides a happy sort of madness while you join Ellie for a dance as the night draws on endlessly. 

[achromatophoric]

https://www.tumblr.com/museaway/746766290005508096?source=share

2,3,4,7,8,9,10,14,16,17,19,22,24,25,26,28

-🤔

[Warning: This is stupid long. Yikes.]

2. Character’s POV being explored:

Oops. My Incorrect Quotes don’t really have a POV. 😅 I think at most, I’ve explicitly removed a character from the end of a couple, to emphasize the joke through only the remaining character’s dialogue.

3. Feelings about current WIP:

I’m not happy with the end, so it might just sit there for a few more days until I figure it out.

4. Unwritten story idea:

I have a very rough outline of an actual fic! Future Wenclair, post college. It’s… super dark. Just a torrid angst spiral from Enid’s POV, where she begins to unwittingly choose her work and social life over her wolf and Wednesday, with terrible consequences.

I put it together last year, before I actually started writing anything. It’s unlikely to see the light of day, because I honestly don’t have the energy, attention span, and sequential periods of uninterrupted free time to try writing anything in long format. 😢 Maybe someday!

7. Preferred writing font:

Something san serif. I’d prefer one with a bit more letter spacing, but I’m stuck with Tumblr’s default font, Favorit-Tumblr.

8. If I had to sequel one:

Probably this old one, about Wednesday and her pet blog. I have ideas about reblogs and blog reproductive cycles.

9. Elapsed time for the last one:

Today’s took maybe 10-15 minutes from start to posting. I needed something short since I wanted to do my daily post before answering this Ask. My notes only read “Hard to swallow” and it basically wrote itself. It took just as long to find the right animated gif as it did to write it out. 😅

10. Longest rest for a draft before completion:

Intentional rest? I guess this one at 5-ish days, where the gang takes turns answering the question: What’s the best thing about dead bodies? I just wasn’t feeling the gang’s banter, so put off fiddling with it until it felt interesting again.

There’s normally scant delay between writing and posting. If I’m lucky, I might have 1 or 2 completed IQs waiting to be posted. I try to post at least 2 per day and I’m terrible at not posting one the moment it’s completed, so… yup. 😒

14. Inspiration source:

Primarily the fandom! I wouldn’t be able to write these if I hadn’t first read so many Wenclair fics that parodying the characters became possible. I really do rely on the community-created tropes and personalities to act as the skeleton upon which meaty puns are anchored.

16. Favorite place to write:

In my home office during work hours, where I can go mostly undisturbed, have a super comfy Steelcase Leap to relax in, music, and a tablet at the ready.

Yes, work hours. I tend to do my job quickly and well, but nothing gets those creative juices going better than having something else you should be doing. 😅

17. Writing and editing process:

Idea? Jot it down. Keep a list. Time to write? Check ideas. Pick one that looks fun. Write it. Nothing interesting? Uh. Do one of the following:

Look through animated gifs of dogs doing derpy things for wolf Enid (tedious AF)

Search idioms based on words that Wednesday can take too literally

Wonder what would piss off Bianca > Yoko > Weems > other character (ordered by favorite)

Think up a bad joke for Enid to tell Wednesday so she gets mortifyingly aroused

Find slang for Wednesday to misinterpret

If all else fails, dive into that gutter humor 😬

Etc?

With an idea in hand, I just start writing it out straight in the Tumblr app. Totally rawwolfing it. When it’s done, I review and check for (and fail to find) errors. Sometimes I’ll run it by my SO, who isn’t a Wenclair fan, but can confirm if a joke makes sense.

After that, I tag and release the thing into the wild, so it may derp free of my fragile little skull.

19. Most interesting fic-related research topic:

The historical material composition of hanging nooses and the strength differences between traditional hemp and modern Manila hemp, which is actually made from a specific Filipino banana tree as opposed to Cannabis plants.

All that for a joke about thread count. 😗

22. Worries about public reaction and how to get past it:

It hasn’t really come up. Honestly, I’m just happy that people read my stuff and can enjoy a laugh. It helps that I haven’t received much criticism, but I’ve also worked for years in a graphic design-related field that forced me to be able to produce (often dumb) fruit even when in an inhospitable environment near barren of sincere appreciation and/or constructive criticism. 😬 Kinda like a creative extremophile.

For advice to get past it? Keep at it. Find your audience(s) if you care to and focus on them. Keep in mind what you enjoy about the hobby and nurture that sucker. Learning how to shrug off negativity takes experience, but when in doubt, take a break! It’s a hobby, and even if it may at times feel otherwise, remember that it does not define you.

24. Recharge method when not creative:

Reading Wenclair fics and listening to audiobooks. I always have a book queued up and jump between fantasy, urban fantasy, lit rpg, cozy fantasy, sci-fi, bio-terrorism thrillers, queer romance, queer horror, and queer coming-of-age. 😅

25. Hobbies other than writing:

Drawing and semi-regular D&D. There’s other stuff I haven’t had time to enjoy lately, like computer games, clay sculpting, mask making, dancing, juggling, fire spinning, etc.

26. Writing around others:

I am always around others outside of work, so I make do. It’s usually fine, unless said others are those who are prone to toddling. Trying to write around one of them is often a lost cause. 😭

28. Least favorite part of the writing process:

For me, it’s transcribing posts from Tumblr to AO3. Particularly posts with a lot of styling, like small text and Chat. Not everything copy/pastes 1-to-1 and some chapters have to be manually edited as html, which is stupendously tedious doing on the phone. And if it has an image? Uuughghghh. 😖

OMG I’m done! I’m free! FREE! FR—

[1moreff-creator]

I remember you saying that Tsuno and Okazaki are your favorites from Tetro. How are you feeling, FF :3

Spoilers for TDRP CH3. CW: Murder, Okazaki.

I, for one, am feeling delighted on one hand and kinda sad on the other, as you can probably imagine! I can’t be too upset though, since I’m used to my favorites dying in general, but in Tetro especially. Sasaki was my favorite in CH1. Oka and Chiba competed for my favorite status in CH2. And now Oka and Tsuno were my favorites in CH3. I haven’t decided who is my favorite of the people still alive, but Hiroaki, Tamba and Yanagi are on thin ice (pun intended for Yanagi).

In particular, I’m not upset at all about Oka’s death. I think you put it best in some of your posts: she wasn’t gonna last forever, so I just wanted her to go out with a bang, and she went out with the equivalent of a nuclear blast. Her supervillain reveal is probably my favorite scene in all of Tetro, I can’t immediately think of any other that matches up to it in my books. Just completely unhinged behavior after what was probably my favorite trial so far, which is impressive given the whole “CH3 curse” canon dangan usually had.

She was just extremely entertaining, what can I say? Her insults, her taunts, her crazy beef with Tsuno, everyone’s reactions, all simply peak. And I know this might seem like a weird thing to focus on, but her background music is lovely. One of my main gripes with the Tetro format (and this is just personal preference, don’t take it as criticism because it isn’t) is the lack of bg music, so of course I’m glad my fave gets her own theme. Monarch shit.

And, come on. How often is it that both of your favorites have a storyline connection as peculiar as the whole “nemesis” thing these two had going on? Like, it’s genuinely awesome, and the fact that it’s completely one-sided just makes it better! I kinda wish we could have seen Tsuno’s reaction to this, because holy hell. How would you even react to this???

Oh, and the Watari thing. I’ve always been a sucker for terribly evil characters who have a soft spot for a nice person. Watari’s despair while Oka’s having the time of her life is genuinely awesome, and Oka clearly liking the time she spent with Watari is fun.

I do feel like I’m missing stuff, though? Like, I‘ve seen some analysis in Tumblr about Oka’s backstory which I assume is revealed in Staffside, because I have no idea what these people are talking about but it sounds cool. I really- I gotta read Staffside, I think, it’s getting critical by now.

Oh yeah, btw. Oka’s Yonekura’s kid! Since I haven’t read Staffside, that only tells me something about Dr Yonekura and not so much Oka. I will thank Oka for Dr Yonekura dropping one of my favorite lines in Tetro, though. “[Does your daughter have] Any special skills?” is crazy.

That said, I am slightly upset that Tsuno died when she did. I wanted to see her crash out after learning Oka beat up Wada! I would have loved to see her react to Oka’s made up beef with her! I wanted to see her crumble and burn out even more than she already was! I would have loved for her to outlive Wada just to see her reaction! I am a normal person with normal desires of seeing my favorites suffer horrendously!!! But oh well, fangans gonna fangan, I guess. Can’t be too torn up about it. At least Oka’s beef with her remains legendary.

I also feel like I should at least mention Kamimura? It’s funny ‘cuz like. He’s just There. He ain’t got nothing to do with the most toxic one-sided ship in history, he kinda just got caught in the crossfire. I feel like his death here makes sense, though; he had his arcs, he had his development and stuff, and now we get to see Hasegawa crash out for up to 3 chapters which is awesome! Assuming a standard DR formula, of course.

Anyways, thanks for the ask! I really should probably post more about Tetro, so this gives me an excuse lol :v

[quibbs126]

could i get a mintrock fankid,if possible?

Okay so I feel like I went a bit off prompt, but here you go, I finally made her, this is Mint Toothpaste Cookie

Admittedly, maybe I could have given her a more occupational name instead of Mint Toothpaste, but I can’t think of one. Maybe I could come up with one in post, and if she has a different name, you know I changed it. I do at least have her character down, so

Anyways, Mint Toothpaste here is actually a scientist working at Astronaut’s agency (I don’t remember the specific NASA pun and right now I’m too lazy to look it up), and she specifically works with the Xylitolians, trying to learn and integrate their technology with their own. She’s also a bit of a fan of their fashion sense and has altered her outfit to more resemble theirs

Okay I know this angle is completely out of nowhere for a mintrock kid, but let me explain. The idea was based on her being made of toothpaste, and wanting to incorporate that into her character. Originally my idea was to maybe go a dentist route, though it felt a bit boring to me. Then I remembered Planet Xylitol also has a dentist/teeth theme, so I decided to use that concept and say that they’re connected

Also, I couldn’t think of anything interesting/something I liked that had to do with Mint Choco or Rockstar’s music angles. All I could think of was basically just going into a different genre of music, and that felt incredibly boring, so why not go in this sci fi route? In retrospect maybe I could have found something to ground her more to normalcy, but screw it

I don’t really know how she came to the scientist conclusion in her life, but shut up, she just did, don’t ask questions. Maybe it was Pink Choco

She does however still have music in her life, it’s just more of a hobby than a lifestyle. She is in fact, an accordion enjoyer and player (though I’m realizing it doesn’t look super good in that sketch now). She also enjoys music from video games she plays, and will sometimes play some of those songs on her accordion. She’s not the biggest strings fan, which is somewhat disappointing to her parents, but at least they didn’t have to compete over whether she would like the violin or guitar more (she thinks they’re just okay)

She’s a bit of a know it all, and while she does good at her job, and the Xylitolians like her, outside of work she kind of lets her job of integrating with an alien culture, being part of intergalactic history, go to her head. She’s sort of become that person who’s annoying after coming back from a study abroad (or so I’ve heard that’s a thing, I haven’t experienced that yet. Or maybe that was me with Britain last year), except she never left to go there and isn’t planning on ending her communication with them. Hopefully she gets better

And yeah, on to the design

So I called her Mint Toothpaste because it’s mint, and I like to imagine Rockstar as being made of shaving cream, and thus I like to imagine his kids not really having the most normal flavors. I didn’t really do that previously, but I did here. I believe the original name was going to be Mint Sauce

Mint toothpaste:

One thing I will say right off the bat, I’m sad that I couldn’t make her hair look as good as it did in the sketch. I tweaked it enough so it doesn’t look horrible, but in my opinion it looks much better in the sketch

But anyways, so her design was mainly based off of the Xylitol NPCs, since she was going to be connected to them. I actually didn’t decide until late whether or not she was living with them or working remotely, but regardless it’s a way to tie them in together. Though I also put in some Mint Choco flair with the coattails so she had something to separate them

I’ll admit right now, I don’t think she looks a lot like Rockstar, at least in the outfit. I used his jacket color in the accents, and she has his eye color, but I don’t know. Or maybe I only think that way because a lot of her colors come from Mint Choco

Also the little triangle in her top part of her suit is supposed to look like Rockstar’s necklace. It was just added to make her have a bit more to do with Rockstar, but I think it looks good on her

Honestly, I actually quite like how her design turned out. Yeah it’s not the most complex, it works with what she’s trying to do, and I think I did better than last time

And yeah, that’s it for Mint Toothpaste. I hope you like her!

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

🪢 KH-OC Week 2024 🪢 - Day 3 Package

Prompt: Would You Rather: Riku vs. Terra edition

With there being two dream guides from Kingdom Hearts, and the fact that both (but especially Terra) played an integral role in making a home for me, Dinh-Yu suggested a variation of the 'Would You Rather' game. But instead of picking two different scenarios, a scenario is given, and I'd have to choose if I'd prefer to do it with Riku or Terra... Tough choices!

---

Q1: Go skateboarding in Twilight Town with...

A1: This is a hard one. Riku would likely be better at it, but I wouldn't want us bumping into Roxas and therefore witnessing those two having issues... IF they haven't already sorted it out. Terra may not be as good, but would provide a more stress-free experience. Skillwise, Riku. Because imagine if I needed to be taught how to ride it in the first place.

---

Q2: Opening the mysterious book in Hollow Bastion/Radiant Garden with...

A2: Terra. Because not only would we get access to 100 Acre Woods, but I could participate in Command Board challenges with him (and Aqua and Ventus if present). However, I think Riku deserves to have fun with Pooh and friends some day.

Leaning more towards Terra.

---

Q3: Trapped in Castle Oblivion with...

A3: I can't give a definitive answer for this one. Riku has vast experience from KH-CoM, but do I want to deal with Ansem and the Replica? And with DiZ catching me up in his occasional psy-ops towards Riku? Come to think about it, either Xehanort or Maleficent would torment Terra in the castle and make him succumb there if not in BBS. So maybe Riku, because again, more experience, and he's over his darkness ark.

Terra does get over it, but later in the KH timeline.

---

Q4: Participate in a musical in Atlantica with...

A4: Okay, so apparently Terra can't sing, but he really needs to improve his confidence, especially in himself. Cue him also being quite repressed and silent for most of my 2024. He needs to come out of his shell, pardon the pun... This conversation got recorded in real-time when Terra found out about this decision:

Terra: "Aww, noooo!".

Riku: "Well, it looks like she's chosen you, Terra".

Terra: "What the hell am I going to do in a musical?".

---

Q5: Have a dance at the Royal Ball (Castle of Dreams) with...

A5: Terra as he’s got a sweet and charming character. If he was insecure and shy around girls, it may not work out to begin with. But once he gets his confidence on the dance-floor, or he already knows the girl well, he’d be an excellent dance partner, especially if it were to some sort of classical or slow music. And with the way Terra has been looking after and looking over me since late 2021, he wouldn’t say no to dance with me and may rather be thrilled. Additionally, he knows the Castle of Dreams really well due to his KH-BBS stint, so he may even bump into Cinderella again and THIS TIME be able to have a dance with her as well.

---

Q6: Go snow sledding in Arendelle with...

A6: Sledding is different to skateboarding/skiing. It’s sitting and you don’t really have to be taught anything except if you’re the one driving the sled. It’d be a more cozy experience with Terra and it would also be funny to see his reaction if we fell off the sled and into the snow. May end up in a snowball fight.

---

Q7: Traverse the Sleeping Worlds with...

A7: On initial thought, I’d choose Riku as he obviously went through the whole of KH-DDD and made it out ‘alive’, also ending up as a Keyblade Master. So he’s like the expert of sleeping worlds and would be able to safely escort me through them and intervene swiftly if there was trouble, knowing the tricks and turns of any infiltrators. But I am curious to see how Terra would function in the sleeping worlds. If it were pre-BBS, I’d be a bit concerned about this combo. But if it were post-BBS, or how Terra was in 2022/2023 as a dream guide, I say he’d be quite skilled at navigating me through, but still not as much as Riku IMO.

---

And with August 3 rolling around, it's Terra's birthday (what he's disclosed)! Here is a pic from last year's celebrations. As he apparently doesn't like too many sweets, he just got a cupcake:

---

And here's another part of the puzzle that just got revealed to me TODAY, as to why Terra's connection might be under stress this year. Terra didn't get an organic pair of teddies as it were. At the start, he was only there for Riku but became interested and started to integrate himself into my life. He wasn't going to get 'mentors', rather, he got 'friends' from the teddy High School Peer Mentorship program to be his companions and increase his confidence, but maybe they're not skilled enough to identify when things get challenging and intervene in a sense

And here's the thing I've just recently realised. Nasha (ESFP) and Sibella (ESTJ) DO NOT get along. ESFP is like the most free, laisses-faire of Carl Jung's MBTIs, whereas ESTJ is almost the polar opposite (not letterwise). So think of someone like Vanitas or Demyx, and Eraqus or Donald working together. Nasha and Sibella focus more on each other rather than their relationship with Terra, even though they do respond to him and are courteous with him. Additionally, whereas Selvian and Sierra seem to go where situations take them, Nasha and Sibella have not left the Land of Departure ever since they were sent out back in Year 10 with Terra. And tend to remain in the closet as it were.

Nasha and Sibella had their first official problem-solving instance earlier this week (convo recorded in my writing book), but it didn't seem to end well. Instead of Sibella making Terra feel better, she unfortunately started to blame him in a sense. Nasha called her out for not being nice but then the two girls got into a fight and Terra passively backed away. So that was an interesting tidbit that was revealed to me.

Snippet of convo from 31/07/24:

---

Sibella (ESTJ): "Then do you think she's maybe going through it again? Like being energetically suffocated?".

Terra (INFP): "I don't know... I've been out of touch with her for so long that I don't know what's going on, and I don't know what to say to her".

Sibella: "That's just it, Terra. You're too scared to start the conversation. And because YOU left it for so long, you don't know where to begin".

Terra: "She said she needed more time to go after Cricket".

Sibella: "He looks pretty stable to me now".

Nasha (ESFP): "Oh my God. Stop being so mean Sibella".

Sibella: "What? Just because my accent sounds like a Spanish b****, I'm not being nasty to him. I'm simply getting to the point as to why he can't reach out to Karla".

Nasha: "But you're making everything sound like it's his fault".

Sibella: "Well then what do you have to say to him, Nasha?".

Nasha: "What you said makes sense, Sibella. Just word it nicer".

Selvian (INFJ): "Okay who called? And why aren't you two cooperating? Sibella seems to know what's going on and so she has an onus to tell Terra so that he knows what to do from here on out".

Nasha: "But she's just being mean to him and has gone from identifying THE problem to identifying his problems. Like that is sooo uncool".

Selvian: "I agree with Nasha in this case. And this is why I'm here. Now so we don't send Terra into a breakdown for nothing, I'm going to sort this one out with him".

-- Continued in book --

Selvian again cleaning up everyone's messes 😂😂😂

I think that's why Selvian and Riku get along so well and have found something in common to bond over.

---

Oh gosh, I found a sketch just now from 2023 that exposes them XD

[cowboyhatesithere]

My F-1 Trillion thoughts

TLDR: The slow songs are better, I love Dolly, and most of these did not need to be features

Wrong Ones (Tim McGraw): VERY stadium country. Not totally my thing but I respect it. If this is setting the stage for the rest, I hope the features deliver.

Finer Things (Hank Williams Jr.): Oh. Definitely not my thing. Sounds like a Florida Georgia Line song. That’s not a good thing. Could’ve been a lot better with a more toned-down acoustic production style. I guess this is the pseudo-title track for the album? I like the album title on it’s own but I hope this song isn’t representative of the whole thing.

I had some help (Morgan Wallen): I’ve heard this one before, and yeah, I really don’t like Morgan Wallen. If it hadn’t been a feature, I think I could at least accept this a fun catchy pop-country song. But I really don’t think Posty needed the “help” on this one.

Pour Me a Drink (Blake Shelton): Post’s voice works so well for a country song, I just don’t understand why there’s so many unnecessary features on this album. This could’ve been a solo song is a statement that applies to most all of these. That said, lyrically, it’s a fun blue collar anthem. . . being sung by a The Voice judge. It’s just hard to take Blake Shelton seriously when we tries to do these blue collar anthems, and feels appropriating

Have the Heart (Dolly Parton): DOLLY CAN DO NO WRONG. THIS is a well used feature. Very rhinestone cowboy reminiscent. This is Taylor Swift’s cowboy like me without the criminal activity and with a much more hopeful sound.

What Don’t Belong To Me: FINALLY. A solo track. Post sounds great on these more personal ballad style songs. A great catchy ear worm chorus is a staple of his, and this is that! There’s no mistaking this for a Post Malone song, even with a genre change-up. I like the true to form songwriting style.

Goes without Saying (Brad Paisley): This is a pop song with a banjo. This is gonna be on country radios for a long time, isn’t it? The new unavoidable Brad Paisley song I guess. Not terrible or anything, just okay.

Guy for That (Luke Combs): THIS DIDN’T NEED TO BE A FEATURE!!! More stadium country okayishness.

Nosedive (Lainey Wilson): It sounds good when Post slows down!! The more emotional ballads of this album are the best parts. I can see this being used in a blockbuster romance movie soundtrack based off a Nicholas Sparks book.

Losers (Jelly Roll): 10 years ago this would’ve been used in a Disney movie about middle school bullying. In 2024, teenagers are going to bully sing this AT the losers sitting in the back of football bleachers.

Devil I’ve Been (Ernest): She fixed him! (Really she did!) Unfortunately his friends are still demons.

Never Love You Again (Sierra Ferrell): Slow songs are great!! Do this more!! The slow bass line works great here.

Missin’ You Like This (Luke Combs): Luke Combs again? Really? The slowed down wistful love song is nice here, but really, really, didn’t need to be a feature.

California Sober (Chris Stapleton): Another feature done really well. The harmonizing route with both their voices is great compared to the alternating style on other tracks. Stapleton and Post’s voices are great together, and makes for a really fun sound.

Hide My Gun (HARDY): Again, the slower songs are the best ones here for letting Post really shine for who he is. Also, murder!!!

Right About You: I love a good song title pun (Kacey Musgraves’ Space Cowboy you are beloved), the ‘right/writing about you’ bit here is very appealing. It lands well, and it’s a fun love song about being famous for your heartbreak.

M-E-X-I-C-O (Billy Strings): YEEHAW!!!!!! A ridiculous story song is always fun! Hell yeah man take her daddy’s money and blow it in Vegas and get shot out of chapel alongside Elvis on your way to Mexico!

Yours: Sounds like an early 2000s post-9/11 sad country song to be made with a sad sepia filtered music video. But! I do respect the lyrics and everything Post did with it. There isn;’t really anything wrong with sounding twenty years ago is twenty years ago was good. Just glad this album didn’t get a Toby Keith feature.

[stuckasmain]

Moulin Rouge - movie thoughts and comparison

I mentioned this in my last post but later in the week after seeing the show, we watched the movie. There’s a lot to be said and my feelings are complicated (just as they are the for stage version). It has a lot of elements I love and a lot of issues at the same time so let’s just get into it.

It has the movie advantage. Big budget flash - pardon the pun- spectacular. The huge cast plays to its advantage and its detriment. We get a wide array of weird, wild and wonderful. Body type, ethnicity, etc. You get a well rounded image of what the district is like. At the same time it sort of takes away in that- the focus is on no one. A lot more  bohemian friends (the musical knocks it to the main three and helps develop that friendship a tad more), more people working at the rouge in general and we get less of a look at they’re relationships to each other etc. It’s? I love there’s more , realistically there would be, but it also takes away from everyone at the same time, if that makes sense.

The editing is everything. It’s the silly, whimsical and funny sort of deal. There’s fast forwards/speeding characters up, random explosions of sparkles etc. My favorite things are everyone tossing their hats into the air and they literally go through the roof, the gun hutting the Eiffel tower, Zidler moon. The musical does a similar effect in the opening number(s) with the confusion and whimsy it hits up with.

Period costuming! For the most part! While I can appreciate and understand the musical going the more bedazzled and more 80s route for the clothes… something about it being a jukebox musical and running around and talking in a more modern fashion while dressing completely like it’s 1899 is so good. Something about Christian wearing white tie- looking incredibly awkward in it might I add- and going 🥺 across the room is everything. More of this! Period dramas- period anything! Take note!

Props for featuring the actual can can

One of my leading criticisms however, as much as I am a complete sucker for a montage scene I feel like there’s too many and it starts to muddy what exactly is happening. There’s context lost that the musical later fills in. Here however “she’s dying” *two month montage of her very much doing the opposite* I know it’s to reveal the illness but still. Montage + to many characters = loss of context/gravity

The duke is great. I love a “oblivious man child who gets violent when he doesn’t get what he wants” however he’s also not really a active threat until the last chunk. They keep putting him off and his threats off until it becomes real in the last act— he’s funny but I think i prefer to musicals take of having him more outright villainous and actually taking Satine away for huge chunks of time. Making a good reason for jealousy and fear of her mistreatment.

john leguizamo. I don’t actively seek out movies he’s in but he’s a treat whenever he does appear. That being said the difference between the two Lautrec’s is wild lmao. Similar but the musical has him WAY more focused on his own pining.

Ewan McGregor Christian 💕

I also mentioned this in the last post but I think the play in the movie is weaker however Satines death is stronger as it knows to do the grand celebration before, thus making it hit all the more harder by it simply ending.

[janeway-lover]

Heloooooo

Can you tell me a nice story about idk pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows or smth? I‘m currently reading pet sematary AND I‘LL FINISH IT SOON AND IT‘S DSRK AND I THINK IT WILL GET REALLY SCARY AHHAHAHAHAA

So I need a nice story to calm me down before I go to sleep (it‘s 11pm…)

okay, let me think.

i don't have a story off the top of my head right now...but, what I could do is show you what I have written for my Lucifer fic.

The Lux is a glittering palace of indulgences, hung carefully as the crown jewel in the sparkling city of Los Angeles. (And wasn’t that just so ironic, that the City of Angels had become the Devil’s beloved home? Amenadiel liked to say that, at least.) Music and liquor flowed freely, with beautiful men and women everywhere you looked. 

Lucifer sat in the midst of it like a king atop his throne, surveying his kingdom with pride. When he saw Mazikeen stalking his way, he raised his empty glass, knowing it was unlikely she’d get him another drink but willing to try anyway. And then he saw what - or more accurately, who - she was dragging over to him, and he rather reluctantly put his glass down.

“Maze, why have you brought me a child? I seem to recall that children aren’t allowed in nightclubs.”

“I’m not a child!” the young girl says, trying to get Maze to let go of her. But a demon’s grip is not so easily broken, and her hold on the girl’s forearm remained.

“I found her sneaking around in the back. She must’ve managed to get past the bouncers somehow.” 

“I see.”

“She said she needed to talk to the owner.” And with that, Maze lets go of the girl, who straightens up to her full height of five foot one and looks Lucifer dead in the eye.

“Well, you’re in luck then.” He spreads his arms dramatically and smiles. “Lucifer Morningstar, owner of Lux, at your service, child. What can I do for you?”

“Why are you encouraging this, Lucifer?” 

“Because, Maze, I am very interested in why this child requires my services as the owner of this nightclub.”

“I need to make a deal with the Devil,” the girl says abruptly. 

“Oh?” His whole demeanor changes. Gone is the cheeky smile, replaced with a more serious look. “And what makes you think you can do that here?”

“I - I read about it online,” she says, pulling out her phone and flipping it around to show him her screen. 

[INSERT SCREENSHOT OF POST HERE]

“I have no idea what this is, but I am offended by the claim that Lux is a ‘dumb pun.’ It’s a very good pun.”

“That’s - that’s not the point!” She emphasizes this with a stomp of her foot. “I know who you are! You’re the Devil! And I need to make a deal!”

“You need to make a deal? Really? A child like you? Why? What use could you have for such things?”

“I’m not a child! I’m fourteen, I’m basically an adult and I can take care of myself!” 

Lucifer just raises an eyebrow.

“If you can take care of yourself, then why do you need to make a deal with me?”

“Well, I - I mean, um, it’s just that -” He stays silent as she tries to stammer out an answer. 

“If you need to take a moment to formulate your thoughts, I can wait.” If looks could kill, the Devil would’ve been slain by this young girl. (Well, to be fair, if looks could kill, Lucifer would’ve been killed LONG ago.) But looks do not kill, and he’s dealt with more than his fair share of nasty glances. Eventually, she must admit defeat.

“I was trying to be grown up,” she mutters. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That would be because you are not grown up.” His voice is softer, kinder. “What’s your name, my dear?”

“Maddie.” She won’t look at him, her eyes focused firmly on her shoes.

“Hello, Maddie. Can I ask you something?” She nods. “What is it that you desire?” This gets him a glare from Maze, but he keeps his focus on Maddie as she looks up at him.

“Somewhere - somewhere safe to live. So I can be me.”

“I see. And how were you hoping to accomplish this?”

“I ran away. I - I thought I knew what I was doing, but - but I only have fifty dollars, because I didn’t want to steal because that’s a crime but I don’t have anywhere to go and I just really need to make this deal and I - I -”

“Okay, okay, breathe. Maze?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you go get a water for the young dear?” She rolls her eyes at him, but goes over to the bar anyway for a water. Both of them are silent until she returns with a whiskey glass full of water. “Really, Maze?”

“Would you have preferred a wine glass?” She hands the glass to Maddie, her tone going to something softer. “Here you go, kid.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it.”

“Now, back to the matter at hand,” Lucifer says. “Maddie, dear, I’m afraid I’m not going to make a deal with you.”

The glass slips from her hands at his words, the only reason it doesn’t shatter upon the dance floor being one very attentive demoness.

“Lucifer, what the fuck?”

“Let me finish, Maze.” She looks at him; he looks back. She raises an eyebrow; he nods.

“You stupid fucking sentimental idiot.” 

“What - what are you talking about?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t mean for you to get left out, but I wasn’t quite finished. I won’t make a deal with you because I’m going to give you a better offer. Everything you asked for - a roof over your head, safety, acceptance - and more, and you won’t owe me any favors for it.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“What’s the catch?” She’s glaring at him in disbelief, but he can see how desperate she is for this to be true.

“No catch.”

“You won’t take my soul?”

“Souls are really not worth as much as people think they are,” he says, Maze rolling her eyes in response.

“Well, okay, I guess.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose.”

“Wonderful!” He smiles, clapping his hands once as he stands up. “Maze, could you take our guest upstairs to get settled? One of the guest rooms should work, I think.”

“Wait, what?” Maddie freezes in place, her eyes wide. 

“Oh, should I have made it clearer? You’ll be staying here for now. I’ve got plenty of room.”

“You - you want me to stay here? I’m supposed to live with the Devil?” Her voice gets louder and higher, but no one in the club seems to notice. Call it a miracle if you’d like.

“Well, you were perfectly willing to sell me your soul earlier. This seems like a much safer compromise, doesn’t it?” But he can understand her hesitancy. “If you’d prefer, we can find you somewhere else to stay tomorrow. There are plenty of people who owe me favors that would be willing to take you in. But it is late, and you need rest.”

“I guess so.” Her voice seems so small now, and she looks up at Maze, her eyes desperate. 

“I promise, he’s safe. I’d have slit his throat a long time ago if he wasn’t.” Maddie nods, looking just a little braver. “C’mon, let’s go upstairs.” The two of them go hand-in-hand into the elevator, leaving Lucifer in the midst of the glittering indulgence of the Lux with a vaguely warm feeling in his chest. 

“Oh, that’s new,” he says to himself. (It isn’t, not really. But that darling urchin known as Trixie usually gets up to enough mischief to distract him from any warm and fuzzy feelings.) “I don’t know if I like that.” He motions for a bartender to get him another drink, drinking it slowly as he thinks.

-

Across town, a cellphone rings. With a sigh, Chloe Decker picks up her phone, another sigh escaping when she sees who it is.

“Detective! I need your help with something.”

“Lucifer, it’s the middle of the night. What do you want?”

“Oh, come now, it’s hardly even midnight! The fun is just getting started.”

“If you’re trying to get me to go clubbing, you know full well what the answer is going to be.”

“That’s not at all what I’m trying to do here, Detective. Although I am asking you to come over. Like I said, I need your help.”

“Can it wait until the morning? Dan is working tonight and I don’t want to leave Trixie home alone.”

“Of course, of course. In fact, you can even bring the little urchin along with you.” 

Chloe’s eyes narrow.

“Tell me what’s going on, Lucifer.”

“Right, ah, of course. You’re good with children, correct?”

“Please tell me there is not a child in your nightclub.”

“There is not a child in my nightclub.”

“Oh thank goodness -”

“There’s a child in my penthouse.”

There’s silence for a moment. Lucifer wonders if she’s still on the phone.

“I will be there first thing in the morning. If you manage to lose this kid before I get there, I will send you back to Hell myself, got it?”

“Oh, cheeky.”

“Good night, Lucifer.” She ends the call with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. “Well, I guess we’ve got plans for tomorrow.”

Unseen by Chloe, Trixie closes the door of her room, slipping back into bed as quiet as she can. Something tells her that tomorrow is going to be an interesting day.

[the-invisible-queer]

Sooooo for the anon who asked (and for you of course, if you're interested), I've compiled a lazy timeline of Joe's relationship history - just things I remembered off-hand, no researching or fact-checking or anything. I'm truly sorry for how fucking long it is lmao, tbh you may want to copy and paste it into a text post so you can put a Read More bc holy shit why has this man had so many relationships and WHY DID I REMEMBER SO MUCH OF IT WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME. As a disclaimer my level of JB obsession has varied a lot over the years, so some of these relationships I know a lot more about than others just based on how closely I was following Joe at the time, and again I didn't research literally anything here so it's possible some of it may be misremembered. Okay here we go:

Mandy, who the OG song Mandy was written about, was the first Joe romantic interest fans ever knew about. I don’t remember anymore if they were actually even together at all or if he just like had a crush on her or something, but he was definitely into her to some degree when he was very young.

He dated AJ Michalka from Aly and AJ for some unknown length of time when they were like 15-16. He eventually revealed that she was his first kiss, she miiiiight have said he was hers too but I also could have imagined that. For a long time it was rumored that Potential Breakup Song was about him, but years and years later while answering fan questions on Twitter AJ finally said it wasn’t, but a different breakup song called Flattery was. (First known appearance of Joe Jonas: Serial Muse Extraordinaire. It would take two more strikes for him to finally seemingly learn that he should probably stop dating and dumping songwriters.)

For a hot minute he was rumored to be dating Miley’s friend/backup dancer Mandy (of The Miley and Mandy Show fame) during the Best of Both Worlds Tour, but I genuinely to this day don’t know if that was true or not lol. I remember a couple vaguely 👀 pictures existing of the two of them but they also both seemed to just be physically affectionate people in general, so they truly could have just been friends.

Joe met Taylor Swift in 2008 and, as teenagers sometimes do, they had what seemed to be a brief but intense relationship that then exploded into a dramatic mess. He famously broke up with her via a 27-second phone call, she famously exposed this on the Ellen show, and then they both spent the next couple years just publicly whacking each other at random opportunities before the bad blood (no pun intended) between them seemed to dry up and they gradually became friends, especially once Joe started dating Gigi Hadid who was already close friends with Taylor. A lot of bangers came out of this relationship and breakup on Taylor’s end – I can’t pretend that songs like Jump Then Fall and Last Kiss weren’t integral to my young Joe girl fantasies about the kind of boyfriend he was, really appreciated that very descriptive imagery – but IIRC the only JB song specifically known to be about her was Much Better. The Jaylor arc eventually wrapped up with both of them saying it was silly teen drama they laugh about now and each making gestures of amends (him changing the live lyrics of Much Better to acknowledge that they’re cool with each other, her saying she regretted putting him on blast on Ellen and should have handled it differently) and she sent him and Sophie a baby present before Willa was born. ALSO: one of my favorite bits of hilariously random Joe lore ever is that in 2015 he went to one of Taylor’s concerts and hung out with her brother, who at one point very literally had Joe’s tiny ass sitting on his shoulders while they vibed to the music. Like…okay then lmfao.

Next was Camilla Belle, who he met when she starred in the Lovebug music video. I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that the public Taylor/Camilla timeline was a bit messy and it’s not entirely clear to this day if there was any overlap or if he fully dumped Taylor before pursuing the new object of his interests, but either way it was pretty clear at the time that he didn’t really behave wonderfully there. Maybe watching Nick start living out his own fuckboy love triangle era around this time inspired him. Regardless, he and Camilla were together for I want to say several months at least before he seemed to get his heart broken pretty badly. I was kind of getting less involved in Jonas fandom by then due to some new fixation I was having instead so I don’t really remember what happened between them, if we ever even knew to begin with, but I do remember him seeming pretty torn up over her for a hot minute there. The one other bit of Camilla lore I remember was that there was apparently some drama at the beginning because Joe and Nick both liked her, which in hindsight is extremely ?????????? all around bc 1) Nick was like 16 and I'm pretty sure Camilla was like 22, he absolutely should not have even been in that conversation at all, 2) Joe probably shouldn't have been in the conversation at all either considering he literally already had a girlfriend at the time and 3) genuinely the very last thing Nick should have been doing in 2008 was trying to pick up a THIRD girl as if his plate wasn't more than full enough already? Was his little ass trying to build a harem??? ANYWAY.

I think Demi was next after Camilla, but again I was falling out of keeping close track of the Jonaii during this time so this is where things start getting pretty fuzzy. I want to say they got together at some point during the filming of Camp Rock 2, or maybe during the press tour for it? and their relationship was fairly highly-publicized, including a professional joint photoshoot and interview they did for some magazine which awkwardly released like right after they broke up lol. While Demi’s feelings seem to have been fully genuine, Joe revealed (or at least implied, I honestly never read what he said about this firsthand lol I just heard about it a lot) at some point years later that he’d felt pressured into dating her by Disney/his team for publicity reasons. I withhold judgment on that aspect since this was obviously a super fucked up situation neither of those very young people should have ever been put in by their employers in the first place, but regardless he clearly went on to hurt her in some way bc she wrote a lot of heartbroken songs about him (including some she co-wrote with Nick, which he’s said was very awkward for him lmao). The song Sorry from Fastlife – not to be confused with Sorry from ALBL, which was about Miley – is commonly thought to be about Demi, though idk if that was ever officially confirmed or not. They clearly worked things out at some point though, because for several years in the 2010s they seemed to be fairly close friends…until they weren’t anymore. It’s still not clear if something happened between them specifically or if Joe sided with his brother in whatever fallout destroyed her friendship with Nick or what, but for a while Demi appeared to be on pretty bad terms with all the brothers. Nowadays she and Joe seem to be okay with each other – they hung out at her Halloween party a few years ago and seemingly had a good time together, and I think they sometimes like each other’s IG posts and such – but alas, the glory days of their friendship seem to be over for good.

At some point somewhere in all of this Joe dated Brenda Song for like three weeks or something??? We know almost nothing about this fling except that it happened. I constantly manage to forget about this and every single time I remember I’m just as surprised as I was the first time I learned it.

I wasn’t paying much attention at all when Ashley Greene showed up in Joe’s life so I genuinely don’t remember when that happened – I feel like it could potentially have been anywhere from late-ish 2009 to early-ish 2011 – or how long they lasted. I do remember that he always seemed happy with her and from what little I saw of them I thought they looked more serious than any of his past relationships had. She apparently inspired most of Fastlife. At some point they broke up, which as far as I know wasn’t dramatic (at least not publicly) but again, I was barely keeping up with Joe at the time. Years later, he revealed in a Reddit AMA that he lost his virginity to her.

I vaguely recall him going on like one or two dates with various random women in the early 2010s, none of whom seemed to stick for very long before being replaced with another. The only somewhat notable one of these women was model Natashia Ho; we’ll come back to that in a minute.

At some point in 2012 he started dating artist Blanda Eggenschwiler, who would become his longest and most serious relationship until Sophie. They seemed very happy together and posted each other on IG a lot. At some point he got a tattoo inspired by one of her paintings, which he still has and presumably has no plans to ever remove or cover up. In early 2013 there was a wild and hysterical rumor about a sex tape of the two of them that allegedly involved, among other things, Joe getting paddled with a ball gag in his mouth – during the initial hilarious drama of this rumor dropping Natashia Ho, previously all but forgotten about by fans, tweeted “Yea sounds about right” and then deleted it shortly after which was…honestly probably still the funniest thing any Jonas ex has ever done tbh. An icon. ANYWAY: My most vivid memory from this relationship is that during the big drama of the band breaking up (though at the time we didn’t know yet that was what was going on, just that the tour that had been about to start got cancelled super suddenly and everyone was being weird and vague about why and Joe and Kevin seemed upset), we got several days of sad or anxious-looking Joe candids in a row, and then the first time we saw him smiling again after everything exploded was when Blanda was with him ❤️ Most of the fandom liked Blanda a lot and and we quietly suspected for a while there that she was the woman he was going to marry (he may have also thought this himself at one time), but alas, they shocked us all by announcing their breakup in I believe August of 2014. As far as I remember there was never any post-breakup drama or anything between them and she just kind of faded away from fandom consciousness, except for one incident I remember from a few months after the breakup where she posted like a half-finished drawing of a face that looked suspiciously similar to Joe’s on her IG, leading to a lot of speculation and debate among fans about if it was supposed to be him or not and what, if anything, it meant if it was. (The answer apparently was that it meant nothing, because they didn’t get back together or anything, although I’m not sure if that’s even what we were expecting anyway. In hindsight that whole situation was just kinda dumb and pointless lmao but it kept us entertained for days regardless.)

Joe and Gigi Hadid started dating in I want to say early 2015. I was barely paying attention at this point and genuinely have no recollection at all of how long this relationship lasted – I feel like it was pretty short-lived but idk – but it went on at least long enough for her to direct the Cake By The Ocean music video, so there’s that I guess. Gigi got back with her ex Zayn very shortly after they broke up and Joe apparently made some kind of comment (again, I never read it just heard about it) implying that he was somewhat bitter about this. When asked at some point not super long after their breakup to play Fuck/Marry/Kill with three of his famous exes, he said he would kill Gigi (and marry Demi and fuck Taylor, if anyone's curious). If there was any further Joegi lore after that, I either never knew it or don’t remember it.

Joe and Sophie started talking in DMs and then hanging out in person at some unspecified point in 2016, but weren’t publicly spotted together until late in the year – IIRC they were first seen together in group pics from some random Halloween party, but no one really seemed to put two and two together until a few days later when they were caught fully making out at a Kings of Leon concert lol. They got engaged roughly a year later in October 2017, got Vegas-married in May 2019 and then married-married in France in June 2019, and welcomed two baby girls in July 2020 and July 2022 respectively. I’m choosing to stop here bc you said you know the most recent stuff and I don’t want to make myself sad lol 🙃

OKAY WELL that was long as hell and made me feel lowkey pathetic for knowing all this lmao but hopefully it satisfied your thirst for tea, anon. Now to start working on Nick's timeline... 🫡

HOLY SHIT BESTIE

I'm on mobile so I can't actually copy and paste that whole thing so y'all gonna have to deal with it

Rest in RIP to everyone's dashes

And the fact that I did know all of these and just forgot about a few but didn't know timeliness specifically

I guess I did have Joe's dating timeline in my head at some point which is on brand because I've never actually been normal about him

Did he or did he not date Chelsea Kane (Stella on Jonas) because I saw some online speculation about it because they were hanging out a lot - fully can respect them being friends just wanna point out their onscreen chemistry was incredible so I wouldn't be surprised if it flowed into their personal life

Thank you for this run down

If anyone questions me calling Joe a whore ever again I'm gonna send them this post

[danstupidaushit]

Decadent Society LEGACY

So uh, kinda having to move the info from the old tumblr page to this one, judging i am making an archive with "all" of my au shit, so yeah, i probably won't be having to rewrite much stuff like i did with 80% of the other things i'm posting in this page (haha i'm not tired at all)

But anyways, here's all the info i've written in the past about the original Decadent Society

Decadent Society’s basic story: Once upon a time, there was two races, monsters and humans One day by the monsters greediness, a war broke between the two races But unfortunately, the humans ended victorious They took a huge indemnity from the monsters and sealed them in the underground Mount Ynadd 20XX Legendes say that whoever climbs the mysterious mountain never comes back

Info about the chars - Frisk: The Fallen Child. * It’s a curious child, but gets afraid pretty easily. Items: Broken Stick and Bandage. Stats: 2 ATK 5 DEF 20 HP - Flowey: Your Only Friend * A scared Desert Flower/Black Flower. * Tries to attack Frisk, but soon he joins Frisk on their journey. * Usually hums classical music when bored Stats: 3 ATK 1 DEF ?? HP His themes are “Your Only Friend”, “Your Only Savior” and “FINALE” - Napstablook: The Lonely Beat Maker * Not really feeling up to. sorry. His theme is “Espiritual Strife” - Toriel: The Guardian Of The Decaying Catacombs * Can act super protective with Frisk, but is a sweet person to anyone who is nice with them. * She bakes Cheesecakes, but she isn’t really good at it so she bakes a pie instead. * Won’t let you leave that easily. * Nobody have ever saw her without the hood, that covers half of her face with a shadow. * Loves reading suspense and horror books. Stats: 75 ATK 55 DEF 450 HP Her theme is “Heartattack” - Sans: The Easiest Enemy…? * Always trying to earn some money so he can sustain his brother and himself. * Really enjoys telling puns, mostly involving dark humour or imature humour. * Sells chili dogs for high prices, but usually making discounts to his friends. * His favorite drink is Mayonnese. * He calls frisk “Poker-face” and “My Safe Box” * The judgement eye is blind. Stats: HP 1 ATK 1 DEF 2 His themes are “smells like rotten bones.”, “Song That Will Play When Sans Judges You”, “There is a storm somewhere” and “Sentence.” Check: He won’t lose to a stupid child that easily. - Papyrus: The Evilest and Coolest Skeleton * Wants to be a part of the Royal Guard, but got rejected 5 times in a row for being too stupid. * Loves making puzzles and traps, but mostly fails on making his traps actually harmful. * He cooks meatballs, but sometimes he tries to cook spaghetti or lasagna, but always fails to cook it. * Likes to say “Nyar har har” * Hates seeing sans smoking, but he always tries to not just slap his cigar * He got his scar and battle body while fighting undyne and supposely winning. Stats: ATK 40 DEF 30 HP 750 His themes are “Facing The True Evil” and “Sharpboned Cataclysm��� Check: Likes to laugh like a goofy maniac. - Undyne: The Black Eyed Hero…? * She is the capitain of the Royal Guard. * On one of her fights, she got injured on her eyes, making her get hyphema on both eyes. * She liked to play piano, but stopped after the situation of the underground got a bit worse. * She doesn’t use much armor, meaning why her body is full of scars and marks. * After the fight she had with Papyrus, they don’t talk much like before. * She thinks sans is a weirdo and is a little afraid of what he hides. Stats: ATK 60 DEF 30 HP 2000 Her themes are “Agonizing Spears Of Fear” and “Confronting The Most Malignent Hero” - Alphys: The Royal Scientist * As said, she is the Royal Scientist of the underground, got promoted after the previous scientist disappeared. * Even tho she might look like a mad scientist, she is pretty chill, but sometimes she might get a bit out of control during her experiments. * Loves to eat spicy noodles and watching she buys illegaly. * As undertale alphys, she is romantic attracted to Undyne, but she can hide her attracting better than her undertale counterpart. * She was the one who created Mettatron, but didn’t really worked well on him. Stats: Unknown Her theme is “Alphys…” - Mettatron: A Broken Robot * Was the first experiment of Alphys that actually worked. * His humanoid body is just a prototype. * When on box form, he have four hands with destroyed arms, that are just connected to each other by some unknown liquid. * While on EX Form, smoke comes out of some of his orifices, mostly because his body is overheating. * He have a whole brand called MTT Enterprise. * Usully his brand makes every type of stuff, but usually focus on the food market. Stats: HP 9999 (Box)    ATK 40 (Box)    DEF 300 (Box)       HP 2000 (EX)    ATK 64 (EX)    DEF 40 (EX)       HP 30000 (NEO)    ATK 90 (NEO)    DEF 5 (NEO) His themes are “Metal Slammer”, “Tragic Death By Charm” and “The Lethal Power of NEO” - Muffet: The Negotiatior * She is still as greedy as undertale muffet, but she have great administration skills. * She owns a sodas and snacks brand named “Muffety’s Sweets Inc.” * Her brand is Mettaton’s biggest competitor. * She have a small shop hidden at the Decaying Ruins. Stats: ATK 45 DEF 20 HP 135O Her theme is: “Arachno Swing” - Asgore: The King of The Underground * Haven’t appeared to the public in a while. * His garden is full of Black Flowers/Desert Flowers. * He says that he likes how his garden looks like a huge hole. * He won’t let Frisk get out that easily. Stats: ATK 100 DEF 100 HP 4000 His themes are “Foran deres konge” and “THE KING ASGORE.” - Asriel: … * The King and Queen’s son. Stats: ATK ∞ DEF ∞ HP 9999 His themes are “His old theme…”, “Destruction and Despair”, “BURN!” and “SAVE the world”

Basic information about the locations Forgotten Palace: ruins replacement, once the first hideout for the monster kind, now just an abandoned castle, it’s dark but there is a lot of plants growing there, with huge trees included Foggyville: snowdin replacement, the most poor city of the underground, contains a small amount of establishments and has most just houses, instead of snow, there is a lot of fog, but is still as cold as snowdin… somehow Submerged: waterfall replacement, once a decent city, now completely flooded by the sudden unending rain, contains ruined/submerged buildings, with just some specific locations still not submerged VolcanoNation: hotland replacement, an industry only location, with both abandoned and still working buildings, the location of muffet’s and mettaton’s brand industries The CORE: still da core, is powered by the volcano’s lava, might turn off at any moment as the volcano is in risk of dying Capital: the most rich city, based around Brooklyn on it’s 80’s Precious Home: new home replacement, a small and dark house

Yeah and that's it, i don't have anything else to say The concept for the au, since from it's first iteration, was to be an underfell take based around the idea of using the way that Butter (commonly known as Khhoppang) did the fell for Swapfell, and make a new fell version with the aesthetic of Swapfell Yeah, it was that simple

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

you know I do find the “who is this for” mentally kind of wild like. People are allowed to make things they think are interesting without a target demographic outside of “anyone else who might also like this.” And I think we’ve gotten very used to bland trying to get everyone media and a big part of the problem is putting stuff in boxes and because we as a culture are very anti sex.

like okay. Every villain song being jazzy. What if you love that type of song but don’t love villains or kids movies? What if you love animation as a media but want a complex story about like alcoholics or something because it’s something you’ve dealt with and resonates with you?

and there’s also not a single thing made that won’t reach someone

note I am purposely using examples of things widely disliked

I have never watched osmosis jones. I am relatively sure it’s a bad movie. But what do you mean who is it for. The plot is dude who’s being really unhealthy as a coping mechanism gets sick because of it which upsets his daughter and then you see his body fighting back. Yeah it makes sense this movie would appeal to single depressed fathers who are also adults that like dick jokes.

or sausage party. Not something I would ever in my life watch or be slightly interested in. I’m very very ace. Sometimes people just want stupid puns tho and cards against humanity is one of the biggest played games for a reason, people like that stuff.

“who is this for” well what does it have in it that people might like. I will say in all honesty I’m making this because I saw a joke post about hazbin hotel, which I’m only sort of watching. I don’t know any lore or anything about the creator. But a story that’s character focused on redemption and has powerful monsters that are just kind of going “meh” and doing everything because they’re bored? That’s fun for me. Other people relate to hyper sexuality as a coping mechanism. Other people just like musical theatre and have weird senses of humor. That’s fine.

it’s silly to dismiss something because it’s not for you. Everything has value. Even fucking A/B/O could be an interesting exploration into what consent means especially when impaired, world building as a society, sexism, all kinds of things? Is it usually used for that? Probably not! But that doesn’t mean that anything

and this is just sex stuff. I have a friend who loves bad live action remakes. The room which is thought of as one of the worst movies ever made is a cult classic.

“who is this for” before anyone else it’s for the creator. After that it’s for anyone who consumes it and enjoys it. No two people get the exact same thing out if a piece of media or art and that’s okay. You don’t need to get why someone enjoys something or why it’s made, but know that the fact it got made means there is someone who wants it, otherwise why waste the effort? The fact you’ve heard about it just goes to show that enough people cared for it to get on your radar.

[gummybugg]

"A Ten But..." Tag

Thank you very much to @writernopal for this tag! See what she wrote here!

Did I get too carried away with this tag? You be the judge. (warnings in the tags)

📺

“Lights, camera, action!” Someone yells from behind the fuchsia game show curtain. The words “A Ten, But…” flash on Your television screen in a neon, flower-power font that is reminiscent of one of those dating shows from the 60s. We hear the narrator announce, “Live from Jemmah’s basement…it’s the show A Ten, But…!” accompanied by applause and cheering from the “live studio audience.” As the words fade, we start to see our contestants on center stage. They are chained against their will to podiums graciously adorned with overly-saturated flowers. Surrounding them is a cream-colored set covered in retro flower print. Amidst the catchy music, a narrator announces our host: “…And here’s the star of the show, and our host, Clementine!” Our host makes his way to center stage with a microphone in hand, waving to the “audience.”

Clementine explains the rules of the game to the audience. Each contestant is competing for a chance to win the heart of You, the viewer. How lucky You are!

“Thank you, thank you! We are all so very glad to be here tonight…” Clementine turns to look at the contestants’ irritated faces. “Well, at least one of us is!” A laugh track backs him up. He paces around to each of the podiums to introduce our guests one by one: Jemmah, Silas, Dex, and Bianca. Each of their names flash on the screen next to their faces as we are introduced to each guest.

Jemmah, the goth witch who'd rather not be here. Silas, the cowboy demon, who has a penchant for personality quizzes and pretty witches. Dex, the bleeding skeleton who thinks this entire show is worse than the curse that turned him into a bloody bones. Bianca, the cyclops with a usually bubbly attitude, who is confused by it all yet wants to see how this pans out.

"Any questions, dear contestants?"

Jemmah hits her buzzer, alarming Clementine. “Can you get out of my house?”

Clementine adjusts his blond hair and flashes a Hollywood smile, “Ah-ah! Not yet, my love! First, we must complete the first rou—”

Silas smashes their buzzer with record speed, interrupting his spiel. “Oh, shit, my bad. There was a bug on the buzzer. It was really bugging me.” They giggle at their effortless pun and everyone rolls their eyes. A laugh track plays in the background out of Clementine’s control. He takes a deep breath to steady his growing temper. He’s beginning to question why he installed buzzers in the first place.

“Are there any more questions before we begin?” He asks. Much to his surprise, no one answers. They really don’t seem to be having as much fun as he anticipated. Well, no matter. The show must go on!

Clementine walks up to Jemmah. She tries to take a step back but remembers the chain fixing her to her post.

“Now, Jemmah is a ten…” Clementine draws his words out as if priming an accordion before a solo, “And gods is he a ten! I mean look at his perfectly wavy, purple hair and stunning, turquoise eyes…it’s enough to make any man fall to his knees, begging, pleading—” Jemmah clears his throat, bringing a scowling Clementine back down to Earth.

“Right. So Jemmah is a ten, but he has a stick up his ass.” He swiftly finishes. Jemmah scoffs, speechless. Silas rears their fist back but is caught by their chain. Bianca scolds Clementine for the use of profanity on public television. Dex stands there, bleeding.

“Oh, like you’re any better!” Silas stands up on their podium and points at Clementine, “This guy is a ten, but he doesn’t know what ‘no’ means!” Clementine reels back in disgust at such an accusation.

“Oh, yeah? Silas is a ten, but created a false religion that influenced millions of people in a completely different dimension to worship Jemmah—for who knows why!” He snapped.

“They did what, now?!” Jemmah stares at Silas, who throws their hands up in defense.

Bianca joins in the fun: “Clementine is a ten, but he still crawls back to his ex in hopes she still loves him!” Her bubbly giggles fill the air.

Clementine’s face turns even more sour. “Bianca is a ten, but she can’t tell the difference between romantic and platonic feelings!” Bianca crosses her arms and pouts in response.

Clementine points to the podium behind her: “And Dex is a ten, but he just bleeds! He bleeds everywhere! Seriously, you’re a walking crime scene, man!”

Our host straightens his cyan suit and makes his way back to center stage to announce the (albeit short) ending of the first round. Things aren't going as planned. But there's always next time, right?

You notice our contestants slowly turning to the bloody skeleton hunched behind his podium. He had been minding his business listening to Nirvana on his headset the entire game. At the mention of his name, Dex stands up, all eight feet of his stature towering over everyone.

“Clementine, I wouldn’t say shit if I were you, given you were kicked out of the country club in the sky all because you had a Freddy Krueger power trip.”

The entire studio goes silent. Clementine stands with his back to the contestants, gripping his microphone. The spotlights flicker in irritation. The flowers wrapped around each podium rapidly age and fall into rotten clumps on the stage. Maggots begin crawling out from the floorboards, their lifespans fluctuating wildly. The entire facade of the set wavers before us. But this doesn’t faze our contestants, because they know it’s just an illusion.

“Aw, did that strike a nerve, bitch boy?” Dex delivers the final nail in the coffin and puts his headphones back on.

Jemmah snorts. Bianca covers her mouth. Silas bursts out cackling and points at Clementine, who, despite trying to appear collected, turns several shades of pink. Laughter fills the air and our dear host is the butt of the joke!

Before things can get worse, Clementine quickly decides to wrap things up: “Aaand that’s all the time we have! Thank you, everyone, for tuning in!”

Over chaotic giggles, personal insults, and distorted audio clips of a “live studio audience,” we start to see the curtains draw and our beloved game, A Ten, But… come to an end. The lights fade, and immediately after, an ad for kitty litter plays.

Gently passing the tag to @bilbotargaryen, @helenofsmoke, @randomstuff3856, @junypr-camus, @bekandrew, @lyutenw, @lalalovezfrenchfriez, @murosakiiro, @elshells, @jay-avian, @charlesjosephwrites, @talesfromaurea, and anyone else who wants to hop on in because this is an open tag!

[tame-a-messenger]

(Warning: the last couple times I tried to do a separate paragraph it somehow condensed into one paragraph when you posted it for some reason so I apologize in advance for what might end up being a huge wall of text lol)

Omg my top five starkid musicals?? That’s so hard 😭 I definitely don’t have a set ranking so these won’t be in order just general top five.

Obviously I have to have AVPM in there. I mean it’s a classic and was the show that introduced me to Starkid when I was a big Harry Potter fan and found this show. I was obsessed with the Very Potter Trilogy in middle school and would listen to the soundtrack every day while getting ready for school lmao. Honestly if I could put all three in my top five I would (like Coolest Girl helped me get more confidence and is so important to me) but I gotta save some room for other shows cuz they’re all amazing. But AVPM gave us “Hufflepuff’s are particularly good finders” and Quirrelmort and that alone is enough to put it in the top five (not even counting all the other iconic parts of the show)

Maybe an unpopular opinion but Holy Musical Batman is definitely in my top five. Idk what it is but I just love that show. The puns, the costumes, Nick Lang acting, Joe walker (I miss him ok), Jeff Blim debut in arguably one of his best roles? It’s all SO good. Also the opening number is *chef’s kiss* like Dylan didn’t need to go that hard. ALSO THE ACAPELLA SECTION IN DARK SAD LONELY KNIGHT?! It’s amazing. Anyway I love that silly little show.

Maybe it’s recency bias but I love NPMD. I literally have the soundtrack on repeat. One of the best StarKid soundtracks FOR SURE. The show is just so funny and has good characters and has amazing songs what more can I say? Also Angela as Grace is a standout

Idk if this counts since it’s shorter and not written by the Lang bros but A VHS Christmas Carol is so special to me so it’s in my top five. I love the 80s soundtrack (lowkey Clark’s best work) and vibes in general. I also love how we get to see some older Starkids who aren’t in the current stuff anymore again. I literally screamed (ok maybe not literally but internally I screamed and freaked out lol) when I saw the video announcing the cast for the first time bc omg my favs are returning!! Also I am obsessed with Brian and Lauren as a duo (SIBLINGS) so seeing them actually play siblings and the little spin hug they did just warmed my heart.

Honestly for fifth it’d probably be whichever I watch most recently bc they’re all so good and I can’t decide so I’ll at least say tie between Trail to Oregon and Black Friday. They’re both so good but so different so it’s hard for me to decide but I love them both. OMG AND TWISTED!! Bro I literally can’t pick a fifth they’re all so good 😭

THIS IS WHAT I WAS SAYING!!! ITS SO HARD TO CHOOSE!!

I feel like anybody that like Starkid has to have AVPM in the top 5, it’s usually the first introduction to them! 

You’re making me want to push Holy Musical Batman further up on my catch-up to Starkid musicals! I skimmed it a while ago and it didn’t grab me so I watched something else, BUT IT SOUNDS SO GOOD WITH HOW YOU PITCHED IT? It’s next on my list for sure!

NPMD really is pretty killer, I LOVE the music! I put it on some playlists and everything! from Lauren's solo to Grace’s “bully/Bury the bully” THE INTRO?! JON MATTESON !!! “I’M NOT A LOSER!” LIKE DUDE?!

moving on

GOSHDAMN ANOTHER ONE I HAVENT SEEN! VHS Christmas Carol! I ALSO skimmed this one and didn’t finish it! I’ve really gotta start watching stuff! You make it sound so GOOD!

RIGHT ITS SO HARD TO CHOOSE. I’ll agree to have all Starkid musicals as our #1 beside “me and my dick”. 

[its-a-rat-trap]

my huge fixation on the rats has come back again so out of curiosity, what are some of your favorite tracks, and why?

Oh man sorry it took me so long to answer this! It ended up being harder than I thought to narrow down a list of my favorite songs but here’s (some) of my current faves at least!

Lookin’ After No. 1 - A bit of a cliched inclusion but it’s still (imo) the best example of their early punk/post-punk sound, and you can really hear how well Garry and Simon meshed with their playing. Plus I’m an utter sap and it makes me very emotional to think of Bob going from writing “Don’t give me love thy neighbor / Don’t give me charity” to. yknow. putting on the entirety of Live Aid. 

(Also don’t eVEN talk to me about the Music Machine gig, every time I think of Bob singing “Don’t wanna be like you / Don’t wanna live like you / Don’t wanna talk like you at all / I’m gonna be like me” in the face of the neo-nazi skinheads who just punched him in the face I go INSANE)

Joey’s On The Streets Again - Look I know that if we’re picking “Top songs Bob wrote about the Ireland of his childhood” then Rat Trap is understandably always gonna be at the top of the list but consider: Joey is just a better song, especially the last verse of it.

Also the Self Aid Joey performance? SO FUCKING GOOD genuinely my favorite live performance of this song that they’ve ever done

Wind Chill Factor Minus Zero - The lyrics just do it for me. I feel like a lot of people don’t think of Bob Geldof as a great lyricist but he really is and this song is just full of little clever lines like “You start to laugh (No) / You say you’ve won (No) / It’s just I lost (No) / That’s not the same (No)” that just make it SO satisfying to sing!

Also gotta put a shout out to “Real Different” for the same reason, every time I hear Bob sing “I'll fill my pocket full of stones and I'll throw 'em at the light” I just go feral asldkfjals

The Elephant’s Graveyard - You know that quote about (I Never Loved) Eva Braun that describes the song as something like the happiest most upbeat song about Hitler you’ll ever hear? The Elephant’s Graveyard is exactly like that but for police brutality and the Rats fucking made it work. 

Obviously if we’re talking about social justice themes in their songs Mondays and Banana Republic are gonna top the list but listen. Listen. Bob wrote a song specifically about anti-black police brutality in Florida that calls out the double-standards of the US justice system (“Justice isn’t blind / It just looks the other way”), made the campiest beach-themed music video for it, and somehow they completely nailed the combination. 

House on Fire - IT’S JUST A FUCKING BANGER OF A SONG! Seriously between the brass instruments and Bob’s voice it’s just such a fun and funky song, and it’s a great example of the Rats playing around with their sound in their later albums in a way that just works perfectly for them. 

Also it has more good mouth-feel lyrics in it, like the line “Doing halo hula-hoops, executing loop-de-loops / Takes a lot of skill and bad taste” is just sooo satisfying to sing !!!

Trash Glam Baby - Obligatory COB inclusion alksdjfklas I almost went with She Said No instead but they really nailed that old-school rock sound with Trash Glam Baby and I absolutely adore it. I love the little references at the start of the song, I love the reprise at the end, the video absolutely fucks, this was everything I needed from 21st Century Rats and more!

Do The Rat / D.U.N. L.A.O.G.H.A.I.R.E. - Because I couldn’t pick just one, special shout-out to both Do The Rat and D.U.N. L.A.O.G.H.A.I.R.E. for being fantastic b-side tracks! I love that Bob and the rest of the band were having fun fooling around with their releases like this. I love all the puns in Do The Rat, and the little convo at the start of D.U.N. L.A.O.G.H.A.I.R.E. both makes me laugh and makes me a little emotional now that Garry’s gone.

[miss-conjayniality]

SEVERE beyoncé post-concert depression………and hyperfixation…………

it’s been a while since i’ve seen beyonce (not stating which city for confidential purposes…but it WAS sometime within the last month). and BOYYY OH BOYYY i cant stress HOW MUCH I MISS HER 😢😢😢 THIS HURTS SOOO BAD! the hyperfixation is still ongoing. adhd go BRRR OHHH MY GOD!!! IF I COULD, I’D TOTALLY FLY TO TEXAS/NOLA/KANSAS RIGHT NOW AND GO TO ANOTHER ONE OF HER CONCERTS!!!!! 😩😩😩😩😩

im honestly just SO grateful i finally got to see her live. you have no idea. I have DREAMT of this moment since my childhood. I love her music with all my heart. I grew up on her music. it raised me daahhllinnggg!!! I have always admired her larger than life persona and her relentless work ethic. her confidence and aura is inspirational to me. the kinda energy any girl aspires to embody - a girly, fun, fierce, sexy diva. 💗

the last time she did a US tour was 2018. I wanted to go to the OTRII tour but couldn’t cuz of a family trip 😭 uhuhu! oh well. i am fucking GLAD I got to see her during freaking RENAISSANCE of all her tours. she’s been an lgbt ally and icon since the very beginning!!! PERIODTTT!!! but this era really solidified that. no matter what genre she does, she does it in a way that showcases the black perspective of that genre. it makes me so happy seeing her use her artistic abilities to try out house/garage/disco (a historically lgbt-dominated genre and subculture) AND showcase black people’s contribution to that subculture. I actually teared up a little when during one of the vcr bits that walked through the history of house music and paid tribute to frankie knuckles. and not to mention…..THE QUEENS REMIX OF BREAK MY SOUL!!! I ASCENDED HEARING THIS LIVE OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS!!!! 🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤

as a bisexual woman, it felt SO cathartic experiencing such an album in real time and with all my senses. this album felt like a love letter for us. the concert felt like such a fun space to be one of The Gays™️. it made me proud to be a member of the lgbt community.

also, when she first appeared, I started SOBBINGGGGGG SAURRR HARD!!!!! she sang all her sappy ballads like flaws and all (loved when she turned the mic to us for us to sing “im a bitch in the afternoon…mood….), i care, rather die young, and 1+1 and cried the whole time because I was overwhelmed by her beauty. I couldn’t believe she was Right There…..

AND THE BLUE IVY CAMEO OMGGG!!! SHES THE CUTEST PATOOTEST KIDDO ON EARTH 🥺 I WANTED TO RUN UP THAT STAGE AND GIVE HER A HUG COZ SHES SOOO FREAKING ADORABLE! THE MOM AND DAUGHTER PERFORMANCE MADE MY HEART SOOOO SOFT🥺😢

she also sang a medley of her old hits and i LOST MY MARBLES OMGGG!!! AND WHEN SHE SANG SPEECHLESS OF ALL SONGS LIKE WTF!!??? THAT’S A DEEEEEP CUT FROM HER DISCOGRAPHY!!!! AND ONE OF MY FAVORITES!!!! JUST THINKING ABOUT IT IS MAKING ME BRAINROT!!!! and don’t even get me started with diva, get me bodied, 7/11, partition, crazy in love, love on top (which she made us RECITE the mfing lyrics to….), formation, cuff it, move, and america is a problem. I sounded like a mfing SCREAMO singer when singing out some of those lyrics hunny….one person even gave me a funny look. GURL! I’m here to go apeshit (no pun intended) not be a statue.