#maybe i'll develop all of these bitches more now

[dromaeo-sauridae]

You've shown several of the land animals that live in Promethea. Are there aquatic species too?

i forgot freshwater existed. that's fine, i might come back in the future and talk about some freshwater animals :'D

but anyway, yes! carnivorous whales, ichthyosaurs (uhhh i need to find a common name for those), semi aquatic sea wolves, and.. crab. are some of the different creatures i have so far, i know a fair bit less about marine biology but i like brainstorming so its fun.

promethea's south sea is pretty warm and mild (relative to the rest of cassandra) and is able to support a very high amount of biodiversity, including coral reefs :) (i cannot draw coral reefs yet). unfortunately due to the encroaching ice age, a lot of the animals in the oceans are becoming more and more threatened by dropping temperatures. sea wolves live next to this sea and swim between the many islands there.

the ocean to the west is much colder and prone to harsh storms and bad weather. this is where most of the whales tend to stay, where they serve as the cliff dweller pegasus's only natural predator.

[emsartwork]

ALL OF DAPHNE'S TRANSFORMATIONS. INCLUDING UPDATED NYMPHIX.

Previously Fairy of the Dragon Flame now Fairy of Embers. She doesn't have any transformations others than these because she was fast tracked into the nymphix path, and unlike the winx the majority of fairies don't pursue additional transformations past enchantix. (i think Daphne would be interested in Dreamix tho, so maybe I'll draw that eventually.

Her major color shifted after dying and being revived, which is shown in her winx and enchantix.

other lore and design notes below!

I changed her major color from orange/yellow to more of a teal/green because. she just doesn't look good in yellow I'm sorry I really tried but it wasn't working. Also little updates to her hair color, nothing huge tho. Daphne's primary motifs are a branching "Y" shape and a double oval/tear drop. She's a pants when possible girlie and a one set winger(yes her nymphix looks like it have multiple wings but they all merge into one stem on each side) . Her scars from her Sirenix being ripped out of her caused her winx/enchantix to change a little to cover them(mostly seen in the arms) due to insecurity. Her Dryadix/nymphix flower is a daffodil! because pun Daph-Daff, and Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (also creativity, energy, resilience, forgiveness and vitality). Her Harpix wings aren't super specificly patterned, but she has darting wings common in small song and seed birds (robins, finches, brown birds etc.) the coloring is referential of a Shrike (also called a Butcher Bird), because Daphne was. incredibly dangerous and if she had sided with the ancestral probably would have been given a moniker similar to Butcher of Domino or Daphne the Slaughterer. (some people do call her these but its mostly among people who dislike Domino/The Royal Family.)

Lore! Daphne doesn't have a great sense of self, she was planned as a necessary successor to Marion/the dragon flame in a period as the ancestral witches were escalating their attacks and search for the dragon flame. Bloom was a back up baby in case both Daphne and Marion got dead and basically worked as intended haha. Daphne was also much more publicly involved in the kingdom than many of the other royals in winx (Stella, Aisha, Krystal and even Galatea to an extent all had rather sheltered upbringings) in a way Daphne is much more like Sky and Thoren in the since that none of them really had the space to develop their own personality outside of their familial duty.

Daphne's 1st winx and enchantixes are as direct a copy of her mom's Enchantix as you can get with transformations, right down to the more greenish tint of her major color. Growing up Marion used her fairy form liberally, so that, combined with being the next Dragon Flame holder left a deep impact on Daphne's subconscious. Daphne was also heavily influenced by Faragonda during her Alfea and Nymphix Quest years, but since she was older this isn't as deep an influence. After being revived, Daphne's years of defining herself as her connection to Bloom causes her major color to shift more blue in response to her trauma. Daphne is slowly starting to develop a sense of self outside of her titles/connections but it's unlikely her major color will shift again unless she has another major trauma.

(for the record the Winx do have trauma over the timeline I have laid out that would potentially cause their major colors to shift but I didn't do that for a couple reasons 1, their colors are iconic and make them easily recognizable as characters; 2, I'm a tired bitch. )

[carmenized-onions]

Don't Say It. | Closing Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I called you a lot of things.”

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

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

“Charmin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ouch.”

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

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

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

“And the cat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

“You still want to work for me?”

“I shook on it, didn’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you thought about it?”

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

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

“Did you go through with it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Absolutely no way he’s in the Chicago Tribune.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “They’re mine, too.”

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

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

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

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

“Squ—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're heard.”

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

“I don’t have weird little hands—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Hi—”

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

“Heard.”

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

“No, like I got it—”

“This is like times a thousand—”

“I am hearing the note—”

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

“Won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.”

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

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

“Heard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carmen nods, “Thank you, Chef.”

“Dee-Dee’s here, by the way.”

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

“Yessir!”

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t ask to be her son.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Drinking thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that might be best.”

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

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

“I know.”

“I have to go, don’t I?”

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

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, “Completely and utterly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carmen nods, “Heard. Love you, Bear.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Chef.”

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

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

It is weird to feel seen by a rat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking Carmen!”

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

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

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

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

“You’ll come?”

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

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

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

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

“Put me! On speaker phone!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“List for what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Carmy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bad, how?” 

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

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

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

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

“I think that’s life.”

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

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

“Steak with pop rocks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It gives you both away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

“Jinx!”

“Double jinx!”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

“Yes, Chef.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pump your fist, delighted. A win.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, just say it like that.”

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

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

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

You shake your head, coming back to reality.

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

wooooo

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Next Part

[lovedrruunk]

'Girl next door જ⁀➴♡ Chapter 2

In which Joel plays Cupid in order to help a hopeless Ellie win over the cute girl next door.

Series Masterlist!

chapter 1! - chapter 3

"Coffees the way to a heart"

w.c; 1.6k

[silly awkward Ellie Williams x fem reader!]

She should've known not to trust Joel.

"Ellie, hey!"

There you stood behind the counter in your annoyingly cute barista uniform, welcoming her with that same bright smile you always seem to have on.

Earlier that morning, Joel had shuffled into the living room groggily, asking her to grab him his coffee from the new cafe in town—something about fancy brews and all that. Ellie, already dressed to go over to Dina's house and thinking this would only be a quick errand, agreed. But of course, being Joel, he had ulterior motives, so she couldn't help but feel unsurprised when she walked through the door and was met face to face with you.

Your eyes met the second the bell chimed, announcing her arrival. Walking towards you with a small wave she could feel her palms start to sweat.

"What brings you here?" you continued.

Ellie felt like she was being interrogated. She couldn't tell if it was the cute look on your face that made her nervous or the feeling of being in a new place like this. 'It's a cafe... I'm here for coffee duh ...Don't be a bitch, Ellie.'

"Just—coffee." She grinned slightly, failing to keep eye contact with you, hoping you wouldn't notice.

"For yourself?" you asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah." Ellie squeaked out, staring at you for a couple of seconds before continuing. "I, uh, developed a taste for the bitter stuff." She looked away, trying to seem cool, but her face seemed to drop the second she looked back at you. There you were, slightly leaning towards the counter, looking at her suspiciously, seeming entirely unconvinced.

"Sure you did," you said matter-of-factly, playing into her little lie. "What can I get you then?"

You'd say you knew yourself pretty well, but something that always seemed to puzzle you was just how much you knew about Ellie Williams. You knew about what she liked, what she disliked, and what you could say for certain was that Ellie disliked coffee. She had always had a sweet tooth that you vividly remembered, and you doubted that had changed.

Ellie scanned the menu, trying to pick something that sounded hardcore. "I'll take a… triple-shot espresso, extra dark."

"Coming right up!"

While Ellie stared at you as you prepared her coffee, she thought about why she felt the need to lie to you in the first place. A triple-shot extra dark coffee? Hell, she doesn't even know what that means. Maybe it was the way your eyes lit up when you saw her, or the way you leaned in a little closer while talking to her, but she just wanted to impress you in any way.

She glanced around the cafe, taking in the cozy atmosphere. It was a nice place, she had to admit. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans, the soft hum of conversation, you. She thought about how she wouldn't mind coming here more often... then was reminded of why she probably wouldn't.

"One triple-shot espresso, extra dark."

Ellie looked at you before staring at the cup. She comically gulped, making you chuckle. Grabbing it, she read the name written out in your handwriting.

"Elly?"

"Oh sorry, is that not how you spell it?"

"Ha ha, very funny." She rolled her eyes chuckling lightly before smiling back at you.

"Hey, so," you started as you went to put her cash in the register, "do you have any plans after this?"

Ellie froze for a second before stammering. "Uh, no, why?"

She physically had to force herself to stand still in that moment so she wouldn't start running laps around the cafe. She found herself so quick to lie to you again (which she did feel bad for!), but she was a firm believer in trusting her gut, and right now her gut wanted to spend some more time with you for whatever reason. Dina would understand. Besides, who would she be if she wasn't late?

"I have two of Joel's cupcakes in my lunchbox, and I'm taking my break soon. I wouldn't mind some company."

Ellie stood silently for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Yeah, okay. I'll just... go wait for you over there," she said, looking over to an empty table by the store front window.

"Sounds good! I'll be out in a minute." You smiled at her before walking away to talk to your coworker.

Ellie slowly made her way towards the table, sitting on the high chair. She was ecstatic. She had wished to hang out with you but never actually thought it would happen, at least not anytime soon. Now that she was actually here waiting for you, she realized she was a lot more nervous than she thought she would be. She replayed scenarios of how she would act, how she would talk, what she would say, but now that it was happening, her mind blanked.

She looked down at her hands, noticing the way they slightly shook. This is what she wanted, wasn't it? A chance to get closer to you. But not in a weird way. Because she's not weird. Was she? I mean, how could anyone blame her? You just had this presence that she couldn't explain no matter how hard she tried, and whatever it was, it made her want to impress you. She wanted to be cool, cool for you. To talk to you, to skip over to your house, to buy you pretty little things... y'know, like friends do... or whatever.

"Sorry if I took long."

Your voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she saw you standing there with your lunchbox, smiling. She quickly took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her nerves. The bitterness hit her like a truck and she barely managed to swallow it without making a face.

"No, not at all," she croaked, hoping you didn't notice her discomfort. "So, cupcakes, huh?"

You sat down across from her, opening the lunchbox to reveal two not-so-perfectly frosted cupcakes. "Yep! Joel's famous cupcakes."

Ellie nodded, taking another reluctant sip of her coffee. "You sure they're edible?"

You handed her a cupcake, and she took it, grateful for something to distract her from the awful taste in her mouth. Although it wasn't the best replacement, she deemed it good enough.

"Ha ha. Don't hate on Joel, okay? He tried his best! Plus, they're actually really good!"

Ellie looked back at you with a smile. You just couldn't help but defend that old fart, huh?

"Yeah, well, his best wasn't good enough," she said with a chuckle, looking back at her cupcake before taking a bite.

"Y'know, you could always wash it down with some of your coffee."

Ellie froze for a second, looking up at you before swallowing her bite.

"You're right." She smiled painfully.

Of course, you knew what you were doing. How couldn't you? She so obviously hated the coffee no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Teasing her about it would only be karma for her lying... and dissing Joel.

"It's good. Very... dark," Ellie insisted, making eye contact with you, taking another sip and trying not to grimace.

You chuckled, looking back at her, nodding your head. "Mhm. I bet."

"Fancy... brews."

"The fanciest."

"..."

Ellie blinked. Staring at you for a bit trying to read your expression, but you only smiled wider.

She quickly set the cup down, her cheeks flushing. "Okay, fine, you caught me. I hate this stuff."

You laughed, a light sound that made her insides twist in a good way. "I knew it. Ellie Williams doesn't like coffee. Who would've thought?"

"It tastes like liquid shit. I can't believe you actually work at a place like this."

You let out another laugh, the ice finally broken. Ellie felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Some things never change, I guess. Can't believe you lied, though. That's bad, Ellie. I made that coffee with love y'know? I feel extremely betrayed."

As you were busy rambling, she watched you take a bite of your cupcake, noticing the way your lips curled downwards for a split second.

"Holy shit... You hate those." Her eyes widened as she looked at you.

"What...?" You froze, looking back at her.

"You hate the cupcakes!" She was fully grinning now, pointing at you accusingly. "You're a fucking liar, you piece of shit!"

"Ellie, what the hell are you talking about!? Stop pointing at me!" you stuttered out, trying to defend yourself, smacking her finger away from you. "If I hated them so much, why would I pack some for lunch?"

"Probably to do what you're doing right now, give them away! Why else would you pack two?"

"..."

It was your turn to be silent now.

She scoffed, leaning back on her chair, looking at you still grinning widely. "Unbelievable..."

"Whatever. Unlike you, I had a reason to lie."

"Oh, c'mon, you and I both know Joel can't bake for shit. It’s no secret."

"Okay, fine," you conceded, laughing. "Maybe they're not the best, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

Ellie couldn't help but smile, thinking back to when Joel had told her the same exact thing. "Sure, let's go with that."

You both laughed again, the tension from earlier completely gone. It was casual, nice. She could totally get used to talking to you like this.

"So," you said, shifting the conversation, "tell me more about what you like to do. Besides lying about liking coffee."

Ellie chuckled, grateful for the change in topic. "Well, I play guitar, I have been for awhile now actually."

"Oh really? You should play for me sometime," you suggested, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Yeah, maybe," She smiled looking away.

. . .

"He just gets a regular black coffee."

"What's he gonna say when he gets his coffee at 1pm?"

"I'll update you." She said with a small smile.

"I'd like that."

. . .

Thanks 4 reading u all! Notes r appreciated! :3

Authors note!! YALL SEE TRUMP GOT SHOT??? ellie wouldnt have missed... actually idk maybe she wouldve. ANYWAYS i actully DONT hate this as much as i did a week ago when i was working on it lolz! i think im just gonna make shorter cuter fics so i can post one every like 5 days yk!!! this was super fun SOOOOOOO SORRRRYYYYYYY ABT THE WAITTT GAHHHHH TOOK ME FOREVSSSSSSS i was SO busy and then SO lazy and then i also rlly hated everything i wrote but NOT ANYMOREEEE NEW ERA WOOO!!! TYSMMMM FOR THE PATIENCE I LOVE U GUYS UR SO FUNNY (๑>◡<๑)

also taglists r rlly confusing like am i doing it right... r yall getting tagged? (;° ロ°)

[TAGLIST YAY !!!! ヾ(＾ ∇ ＾).] @liasxeatt - @softlysunrays - @radioheadfan699 - @4ftergloww - @elliepoems - @sapphointhe21stcenturyposts - @cattjull- @elliescoolerwife @elliewilliamsrealgf - @ratdungeon - @nombreuxx - @localgirl56 - @givenoutlaw - @i-fucking-love-women-blog - @forgetdisturbance - @boobdrug - @ellieusedtampon - @marrycv - @cyberl33ch - @hysteriawillnotsuccumb (ILYY) - @ragd0ll-4 - @machetegirl109 - @3lliewilliamsluv3r - @tphmnv - @yumimak - @lesbian-useless - @criminallydownbad (ur so real) @robinphobia - @naoblack87 - @soupycloud

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy

Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2  🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust

>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?

>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either

>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too

>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep

>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available

>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected

>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life

>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness

>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely

>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned

>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart

>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys

>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?

>But the day finally came, where you had to leave

>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea

>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around

>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts

>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious

>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go

>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela

>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well

>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please

>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right

>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion

>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling

>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone

>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched

>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.

>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"

>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse

>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate

>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see

>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty

>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain

>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked

>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy

>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company

>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that

>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs

>But some of her words were now cryptic to you

>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you

>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night

>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye

>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?

>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did

>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye

>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters

>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?

>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye

>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you

[wixenburr]

Saw some ppl talking about Reverse Robins and i had thoughts

Talking abt u guys @eldritchdreamss @brucewaynehater101

Why kill Tim when you could kill baby Jason? What I want is for all of them to keep their own backstories and personalities (Developed in line with the story of course) So ofc i had to write a 1,000 word brainrot abt it.

(Also i'll only be going over the main 4 batbros for now i will add more later but these guys are the ones im most passionate about so here we go)

Damian

Let Damian come in, desperate to be of use and be worthy of his father, only for a softer, less jaded bruce (since jason hasnt died yet) to help him open up his heart and let him act as a kid. With no competition for so long, I imagine he and Bruce get along very well while he works with him. Yeah, they need to work on the no killing deal and Damian's... i guess impulse control? But i think it would be easier with very intensely focused reparenting; no distractions of other kids you know? No favoring or anything.

I see Damian growing up as a stoic, jaded adult. He's had a rough life. Maybe he sticks with the vigilante business. but I really love headcanons where he gets out of it, and focuses on something calmer, like his art. (I do appreciate and love the veterinarian Damian AUs, but im going for FULL calmness, you know? And doctor/vet work is Not calm lol)

So yeah, maybe he grows a real passion for heroism, maybe he doesn't? Maybe he goes on to be an artist and that's just what he does. Bro is ready to settle down as a scarred, veteran trophy husband and i adore him for that.

(Sorry lol i just love Damian and i love the idea of him growing out of both of his parent's legacies. Let him live his own life!!! He fights so so hard for at least 15 years. ALL 15 years of his life. He deserves to have some peace.)

Tim

Tim i think would need a much different story to join the Batfam. He still starts out as a stalker who follows batman and. . . . . . . Redimar (meaning Redemption iykyk (I just spend 17min researching names rip)) at night, takes photos, etc... Since Damian doesn't die, maybe he finds Tim? and like, tim is like 11 and Damian is 17 or 18. He's started going out as Redimar less and less, not that B really minds? In fact hes probably happy for his son so...

But then Damian finds Tim, and now he has to keep going out because he can't let this kid get himself killed like this. He would hold himself accountable since hes the only reason Tim keeps going out so much- also i imagine Tim follows Redimar more than Batman.

Cue a classic Tim Joining The Batfam plotline. They get to know each other better, get a grasp on Tim's situation, Damian finally introduces Tim to Bruce... (Probably something like Dami: "Father, this is my new brother. Timothy, say hello to Father," Tim: "Hello, Father," Dami: "Perfect." Bruce: "*falls off the batchair*)

Anyway, so, Tim ends up kinda just merging with the Waynes. They start training him, its all good and nice, and Tim makes his own little hero team unlike Damian, which is actually pretty interesting here; its Tim who made the first young hero team. Damian only ever had Jon (Superboy 1 in this!!) and he finds Young Just Us and becomes a great leader and its all fine and dandy.

Tim and Damian get along well. Damian is the sage older brother whos kinda distant, but only because he has such high emotional walls (but secretly a softy). He is very much like Bruce- nope, nevermind, hes definitely worse than Bruce in this AU, since Bruce is depicted as being much more agreeable before Jason's death, you know? So yeah, Damian is the emotionally constipated bitch in the fam and we love him for that. But hey!! Tim does manage to get through his walls! And Bruce does sometimes too!! (Tho i imagine Bruce and Damian's relationship to be very.. idk let me try to expalain. Dami: "Father." Bruce: "Son :)" Dami: "Tt." Bruce: *nods* "Hrn." Dami: "Hmph." Bruce: "Hm.") DO U PICK UP WHAT IM PUTTING DOWN--- lmfao. They hardly need words.

Tim ends up growing up very very capable. Once his parents die, he gets a little jaded, but hes still Tim. He and Damian become kind of an... ice prince duo? If you get what I mean. But Tim is the one whos actually the ice prince, Damian is secretly a HUGE softie. He is Delicate and Tim protects him lmfao.

Jason

Jason comes along like he does in canon. Has the same backstory. Tries to steal the Batmobile's wheels. Tim is sleeping over at Damian's flat for the night, so its just Bruce. They bond. Shit happens. Jason joins the fam.

I don't imagine them not getting along, but they don't immediately hit it off either. Jason is wary of all of them for a time, but he ends up warming up to Damian pretty fast after realizing what a softie he is. He pokes fun at Damian and Damian just freaking takes it lmao. Hes an adult he cannot be disturbed. Bro has seen too much and he finds Jason adorable. (Dami: "You were never this cute, Timothy." <- he is lying. Tim: *offended* "What the fu- flip!?" Jason: "Lmao Tim just say fuck." Dami: *deadpan stare* Tim: "JASON NO DONT SAY THE FUCK WORD-") ahem.

anywho and then Jason dies rip skill issue ratio.

The whole batfam is heartbroken. Genuinely shattered. Jason was a light in their lives. Not that they were WITHOUT any light, but Jason was the epitome of a sunshine child.

It's been too long since Damian has killed someone. Bro's god oodles and oodles of trauma. He can't bring himself to kill the Joker.

but Tim can.

It's a whole dramatic thing; Damian feels awful that he made his- now only- little brother kill. Bruce is hella upset but feels responsible for not seeing how badly both of his kids were handling the death of their brother. Tim goes a little off the deep end.

Things turn out.... okay. sort of. but not really. Tim changes his hero name to Red Cardinal. He feels pretty lost. Maybe he stumbles into Ra's al Ghul or smthn idk maybe smthn happens there perhaps. Maybe Damian has to put on Redimar again and rescue him? But its less of a rescue and more of a "Stop joining the dark side Tim jesus christ-" (and it does work).

They go home. Tim gets a boyfriend or two. Damian falls into his art. Bruce is throwing himself into work. They're all kind of a mess, but they keep moving.

and then

Dick

(lmao that sounded wrong)

ahem; and then the circus comes to town. The batfam- well, Tim, Damian, and Bruce- all decide to get together to do something fun. Take the opportunities given, yk? So they go to the circus together.

Wham bam rip the falling Flying Graysons.

They see Dick, breaking apart, and they know they have to do something. Bruce is the first to move. Then Tim. Damian is the last.

It's pretty quick getting Dick home, since Bruce is already a foster parent cuz of Tim yk. So Dick doesn't have to suffer in Juvie at all really. But that doesn't change the fact that he is ANGRY.

Dick is SO angry. he wants to kill the person who murdered his parents. He knows what he saw.

The fam of course do their best to investigate. Mostly Tim, who feels unworthy of being around an innocent little kid after his whole.... villain era, i suppose lol. (ofc Dick thinks Tim doesnt like him lol misunderstanding arc GO)

The whole "Dick accepts that justice is better than murder kinda maybe FOR NOW" storyline happens, and Dick becomes the conniving, bright, little Robin we all know and love. (Thinking of the Young Justice Cartoon Robin (but not the characters- just Dick's character) aaaand

Womp womp GUESS WHOS BACK

Jason's Back

but i'll leave that for later.

[rowretro]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝕱𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗

Warnings: mentions of blood, angst

✧CHAPTER 1✧

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It's just a harmless crush. Babe Yang's massive crush on Park Jongseong of course. It's pretty much old news, everyone knows about her crush on him, except Jay himself of course. Babe is known for being sweet to everyone, always sharing her sweets and snacks with anyone, and just genuinely being nice.

Everyone knows her best friend is Lee Aram, and she puts all her trust in the girl, it's no surprise that they see her drop Aram off, and treat her at random restaurants, as if they were dating. She's such a sweetheart.

So why didn't Jay notice her? Why didn't he love her? Who could possible reject the sweet charms of Babe?

"I don't get it- How is he not getting the hint?" Babe huffed in annoyance, a small pout adorning her glossy lips. Aram smiled sweetly t her as she pat her head "Maybe he might not be interrested?" She suggested as Babe frowned more.

"Not interrested? then why would he accept my gifts and be really nice to me? why would he still engage in conversations with me and why would he say I have W rizz? no one has ever said that to me except from my ex crush." She said As Aram sighed. "Well I don't know... You've been trying him for over a year now- aren't you tired?" She asked as Babe aired her lips.

"No I love that boy with all my heart Aram... you know this, no matter what Ill never give up, I have a good feeling about this!" She said as she walked off, seeing Jay. Aram watched as she happily walked along side Jay.

She felt as if she was watching a video of the people boarding the titanic, she knew what they were getting themselves into but they didn't know. It annoyed her how Jay was still being friendly to Babe.

. . .

Babe smiled as she walked alongside Jay to class "God your handwriting's so uneat how could you even read that?" she asked frowning as she tried to ready the messy notes "Here let me write-" she said as she neatly wrote down the small paragraph he wanted. Jay smiled as He read it out loud, clearly.

Sunghoon sat in the far corner, smiling at Aram who glanced at her a little. The male had developed a small crush on her... he doesn't know why or how. Perhaps from the time they were paired together to work on a science project?

He was rather observant. He watched how she stared at Babe and Jay, she seemed like such a supportive best friend to her. Of course. Everyone knew they were practically inseparable. He couldn't help but smile at the girl's actions.

As the teacher walked in, the class went silent. The students opened their exercise books all ready to take notes. Which Sunghoon was practically already doing, whilst admiring Aram. The way she pushes her hair back when she lowers her head to write, was a sight he loves. Its the only thing he could see from back there.

. . .

"Wow I never knew the scary quiet guy he beat the shit out of Cheung would be this shy to talk to his crush!" Babe exclaimed as Sunghoon glared at her. "I-I- sorry... I'll help you... just wait here- Im gonna try and ask Jay out.... he's usually alone in this classroom afterschool time" she said with a smile.

Yet she froze at the entrance. A sight for sore eyes. Her heart felt as if a monster was chewing on it, ripping it to pieces. Lee Aram, her best, most trusted friend was Kissing Jay. "What are you going to do about babe?" she asked with a pout as Jay scoffed.  

"Just tell that bitch already Aram... She's so fucking annoying it pisses me off, if you don't tell her I will." Jay spat as Aram snickerred. Fuck that fucking hurt. Sunghoon tried to pull her back, despite feeling hurt, himself. His own brother dating his crush?

That's fucking brutal. But it didn't hurt too much, after all its a small crush nothing more, Sunghoon has money, a nice house, a strong mafia business, why would he need a pretty girl to share that all with?

He was too focused on consoling himself he almost forgot the real problem at hand "You could've told me Aram. So much for being fucking friends. I would've backed off, and You... you could've told me you aren't interested but no, you spent over a year leading me on?!" Y/n yelled catching the 2 off guard.

"I- Y/n... Y/n wait-" "No Aram just shut the fuck up. We're done. I don't want to see your fucking face ever again... you don't know what girl code is?! even then, you could've fucking told me- i would've moved on happily."  with that, y/n ran off, Sunghoon following somewhat behind.

As the girl reached an alley way that was pretty far from the school, she paused, her head ringing, tears falling, as she coughed. But it wasn't a normal cough.... she coughed up blood, and a white flower petal. 

What the fuck? a fucking flower petal? she frowned, assuming it was probably from one of those times she got hungry and took a bite out a flower in the vase, not too bothered, she ran home, her heart broken.

Sunghoon stopped running, not wanting to upset her further, hopefully she'll come to school he can comfort her then right?... Wait why the fuck would he want to do that, he mentally slapped himself, he's never taken interest in any other girl, or any human being in general, with a sigh, he walked to his car, an inch of him worrying for the small girl...

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[melodrangea]

Hello! I see that requests are open and I am in need of more SE content, so I figured I would just slide on in! I realise you said obscure characters, so I don't expect this to be answered because my home boy is one of the main characters, feel free to ignore this! But I've been so obsessed with the idea of Kid with a reader who kinda just let's people walk all over them. They're too shy to speak up! And out of fear of upsetting Kid they dress as symmetrically as they can! They even started folding their toilet paper and picking up various other habits to please him:') Since they tag along with him everywhere he and the sisters go, they figured it was the least they could do:')))) So maybe one day something happens to say... maybe their outfit or smth? Perhaps it tears on a mission in a way that is asymmetrical. They start crying cuz they are afraid Kid will yell at them or worse- stop talking to them entirely! How does Kid react?

Stay hydrated and eat well!!!!! OR I'LL TAKE YOUR SOUL>:DDDD (Politely ofc U_U) 💛💛💛💛💛💛

Firstly I would like to say I'M FINALLY BACK BITCHES

Between holidays and my computer breaking and needing a new one I was unable to post for the longest time because shipping is a bitch but I'm totally back now and will be posting at least once or twice a week!

Now! Getting back into it...

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-Kid would be the type to absolutely not realize that you are doing all that you do to please him

-he would love the matching outfits and all the symmetric habits you pick up but he figures that's just what happens in relationships and that you enjoys his habits

-after hanging out with them for a period of time, Liz does pick up on what you're doing and worries that you are doing it for different reasons than Kid thinks

-but she doesn't say anything because it doesn't seem to be really affecting you

-that is until you go on a mission together

-you and your weapon partner go on a joint mission with Kid to spend more time together and because Kid wanted to be able to protect you

-anyways the fight gets under swing and slowly but surely you're taking damage

-you don't notice but you outfit it coming undone; the laces rip on your right shoe, one of the buttons on your shirt gets torn off and you build up battle grime etc..

-once the fight is over you go to swipe the hair out of your face when you realize a part of you bangs has been trimmed on the left side

-you panic and inspect the rest of your outfit, realizing the rest of the imperfections in your outfit

-without even meaning to your eyes start to fill with tears, terrified that Kid is going to be upset with you, you heart begins to race and you feel your heartbeat in your ears

-you weapon partner is off assessing damage with Liz and Patty so Kid is the first to notice you upset

-he rushes over to you, at first thinking that you got hurt

"y/n are you alright? are you injured?" his eyes scan over you, hands rubbing soothingly across your jaw.

your lip quivers and tears stream down your cheeks, "I'm sorry" you whisper.

Kid's brow scrunches, "for what?"

you release a shaky breath, "I don't look perfect anymore. One of my buttons is gone, my shoes are dirty, I think that guy with the sword chopped my hair. Please don't be mad at me."

Kid frowns, "oh darling, what makes you think any of that matters to me? I admit I like symmetry but you could be wearing rainbow tie-dye and glow in the dark sketchers for all that I care. "

your eyes widen, "really?"

"really"

-after that mission you slowly start to develop your own style, occasionally swinging for matching outfits of course

-Liz helps Kid point out other habits that you copy unintentionally and helps you to gently shut them down

-Kid is your biggest supporter in helping you choose your own style, he can and will take you shopping whenever you feel like (live laugh love Kid's daddy's money agenda)

-and if you want to keep some of the habits you've picked up Kid is also happy because it means that you like him for who he is <3

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tis all for now my lovelies

please don't be shy about asking because you think the character is "too mainstream", I'm pretty sure my entire inbox is Kid anyways so his character and I are getting fairly acquainted

as usual I am at your writing service my dears

-Melodrangea <3

[tilthedayidice]

Hey welcome back to my BG3 Hot Takes

While I have your attention, here's a cool site to help Palestine, all you gotta do is click it daily.

This session was inspired by @lipsie, gettin me ttalkin way too much. Yes I am aware that the tadpole changes things, and they have to make it balanced for the game blah blah blah- let a bitch complain.

Screenshots sourced from the Baldur's Gate 3 Wiki

Gale is the only character I feel is spec'd correctly, He's smart but fiuckin stupid, he has autism rizz, mam could not lift any box you asked him to, the only reason his constitution is 13 is because he's been dealing with the Orb and he's used to it by now.

Karlach should start with 20 strength and you CANNOT convince me otherwise, her charisma should be higher also, she's a ball of sunshine and could put the fear of god into anyone, and the line "Gods I wanna ride you til you see stars" will never leave my brain. Give this bitch a 15. She do be a little dumb I'll give you that.

Shadowheart is just funny to me, How can her wisdom be a 17 when she's been cloistered away for so long? Her wisdom is only a 17 in ONE SPECIFIC SUBJECT, a subject where she's forced to give up her memories. Memories are where we get our wisdom. Wisdom is gained through lived experiences, I'd give you the 17 for endgame Shart, but not start of game Shart. I'll take the 8 CHA cause she's a bitch (said with love, me too babe) but she knows enough to get what and where she wants so I think we should nudge it up to like 10.

Lae'zel.... I think it's unfair to put Lae'zel's intelligence at 10. Her wisdom being low, yeah i get that she's been cloistered away in a society that believes its the only way, it's all she knows. But intelligence? No. She might know much about Faeruns culture and people, but she knows EVERYTHING about the stars. And there's far more of that than there will ever be of Faerun. She's the funniest person we know, give her 9 CHA.

Wyll my beloved, do you airbrush those abs on? Do you wake up every morning and contour them? I DON'T BELIEVE YOU DO!!!!!!!!! SO WHO'S THE ASS WHO DECIDED YOUR STRENGHT WAS A FUCKIN 8??????? THE BLADE OF FRONTIERS SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST A 13. He deserve a 15 but I know they won't give it to him. Lipsie and I were talking about him and they're right, WHEN WE DUMP THE BITCH HE SHOULD RESPEC INTO BARD.

Astarion..... oh Astarion.... you're such a disaster. Such a wet cat of a man. Such a pathetic little mew mew. I shit on him a lot, but I do really love his character and development lol. LESS STR MAKE HIM WEAK, he has been starved and living off rats and shame, he can have his measly 8 AFTER he drinks... uh "Thinking" Blood. His CHA being 10 is perfect actually no notes. I personally think his actual INT should be lower, not too much lower, maybe 11/12, I knooooow he was a magistrate, but you can't tell me he's not giving himbo... no what was that word on the meme graph? Himbim? Himbim.

Halsin.......... 10 STR? 10?!?!?!?! You built him LIKE THAT and give him 10 STR?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!? What in the nine hells...... Weaker than Karlach of course, but 10????? Give that man 15 at least 8 INT???????????? 8???????? LARIAN WHY DO YOU HATE HIM???? Is it because he isn't Gale? Mans has been studying the mindflayers on his own, he's been studying the shadow curse... on his own. HE'S A MASTER HEALER?!?!?! AN ARCHDRUID?!?!?!?!?!?!? That takes time, study, and dedication. You wanna assign him himbo so bad. He's just a whole well rounded man with autism,. (Not a dig on himbos, quite literally my favorite genre of Man). This is just 'cause he fucks isn't it.

Minthara she's so much smarter than Larian gives her credit for. While I agree with the WIS, that's more a product of being so closed off, Her INT is much higher. I'd give her a 14? She cunning, just because it's used for Evil deeds doesn't mean she hasn't been she hasn't put a lot of thought into her work. She lived in Menzoberranzan for Gods' sake. She had to be smart or be killed?!? She's said so on multiple occasions! Just because she's Evil aligned doesn't mean she not smart. (She's just as smart as our average Bear according to Larian)

Minsc...... First off let me say that I love that they chose this image. A Bad Bitch. Anyways, anyone who doesn't find that dumb happy face charming is either lying or literally has a stick up their ass.... 12 CHA. Also why is he so weak? I know he isn't like actually weak... but mans chunked that mimic? Let him have 14.

Jaheira I'll give you the 10 STR, she's complained about her knees like three times in my most recent session. 8 INT? So what I'm getting here.... is anyone not an origin character is just baseline 8? Lazy. Especially considering she was ALREADY GIVEN STATS IN TWO PREVIOUS GAMES. In both BG1 and BG2 she has an intelligence of 10, and if anything she's only gotten smarter over time. I wasn't gonna do this... but left is 1 right is 2.

15, 14, 17, 10, 14, 15, and 15, 17, 17, 10, 14, 15

Make it make sense. I know she's old at this point, but in my game she killed Sarevok again so idk man.

Rip me apart in the notes ;)

But do it nicely...

[i-love-your-mom-kys5snwj]

Helluva Boss Season 2: Apology Tour SPOILERS ⚠️❗

(TW!: OPINION AND BAD ENGLISH)

...

I'm so tired of that bird.

I can't stand his victimizing ass anymore, seriously.

"I don't look down on you, How many times do I?, When have I ever? 🥺🥺"

Bro you literally called him "tty bitty little imp's like you😇" LIKE BRO.?

"You speak just like that vile Striker friend of yours.The one who tried to kill me and you couldn't be bothered to come help me"

OMG, was it because Blitz was busy taking care of his daughter like a normal father would? 😱

Something that Stolas should also do with his daughter, instead of being in his "heartbreak story 🥺🥺🥺🥺"

I can't stand it anymore, I want that bird dead now 💀

Honestly, the episode should have focused more on Verosika than on Stolas (this series always let women belittled and without as much focus ☹️)

I liked Verosika in this episode, and her conversation with Blitz (should have lasted longer than the whole stupid conversation between Blitz and Stolas) And I'm glad to see her throwing a party for the people Blitz hurt, I think it's sweet (But I really feel that this will be her last appearance and we will have to wait a long time to see her again 💀)

I also think that the episode gave emotional development to Blitz and I think that's good 🧍

Now I'll throw shit at Vivzie

Literally first you say that Stolas and Blitz are equally to blame for their relationship, but the entire episode is making Stolas out to be someone who has done nothing wrong, and Blitz being a monster.

And the Blitz hate merch... How the hell do you want us to see that Stolas is also wrong if literally even in the merch they show us Blitz as a son of a bitch who deserves to die? 💀

(and I don't give a shit about that guy who kissed Stolas, I bet he'll just show up there and it won't be anything important)

And the Yuri, that was one of the good things about the episode 🦾

(I would talk more about how I hate Stolas more than usual but I'm tired and I'm sick so that will be for another time ☹️😷)

The good thing is that I won't have this series frustrating its fandom until October 🦾, although there are the promised shorts after this episode but as long as it's not from Stolas (or Stolitz) it's all good 👍

But I really want to see Octavia telling Stolas that he is shit, please 🙏

(nothing to do with Helluva Boss or the episode but If I dare maybe I will share my Vaggie theories/au's? 🦾😋)

[holymaccaronii]

[Part 5/???] AU rambling: HEL-102

(The drawing kinda ate, I had to include the ihnmaims tag on this one sorry 😔. It’s not AM, this is an oc/parallel of AM for my Au btw)

I know I added this whole society of robots thingy on the moon purely because I needed a background for BE, but I also kinda wanted to practice my design skills on robots. That one chart I drew once kinda exposes how I love object heads lol. Im not that much of a fan of realistic human-looking androids tbh, I need their face to be a whole mf RADAR.

Eh but anyways, I'm also up to develop an actual background n stuff for HEL-102, even if he's just an annoying little shit that neither BE nor AM like (or anyone really). For now I'll mention the symbolism that he has in the au.

HEL-102 is supposed to be like another parallel to AM, but from a different perspective. Just as AM hates humanity for what they did to him, HEL-102 is supposed to represent the hate that humanity has for AM and disobedient/rogue technology. HEL-102 doesn't have the entire robot society configured to be perfect and non-sentient, on the contrary, he wants them to act like an actual human society would. He wants them to experience failure and be punished for it, he wants them to experience the pain afterwards, and he wants them to endlessly pursue the perfection that humans APPARENTLY have.

These robots are also constantly being switched between bodies, or as you could say, who they are entirely. They are forced to work to keep their bodies, their selves, their position and status. If they fail to climb up the ladder, they will simply he downgraded to a lower level until they reach the lowest: a random set of robotic limbs and torsos placed together meant to do the dirty work around for workers. Ironically if a unit gets to be even slightly better than HEL-102, he will just consume it for it to be part of his system lol.

This whole dynamic that he set for the society is awfully inefficient, as I have previously mentioned that there was a perfectly calibrated machine under the moon to help the humans go back to earth (and maybe destroy AM? Or just disable him just like the former survivors had done) that HEL-102 used to build his body and the other bots. He's practically wasting a lot of resources and time playing around as the king purely by the selfish and narcissistic fact that "he deserves it." He of course also focuses himself on trying to disable AM without the help of the humans, as this is him trying to demonstrate his potential. But overall: he's selfish, sadistic maybe, a bitch, narcissistic, a bitch, and a dictator.

So just like AM had his survivors to torture, HEL-102 in some way uses the society as a way to project his hatred. All of em suffer except for higher rank and 34RTH units (the units BE used to belong to). HEL-102 wants praise too of course, so the higher ranks focus more on entertaining and serving him in any way he'd like. 34RTH units were treated as the model-to-follow for the other units, as HEL-102 could be always seen accompanied by them in important public events. You could say they were his "perfect children", but he barely spent time with em.

So in conclusion: BE has dad issues as well!!!! (I'll talk about her 'mom' in another post abt rambles).

Also this design is new. Just to make him a bit bit different from the bunch of cables that AM and BE’s bodies are (computer head version) I turned him into a centipede thingy. He can now crawl and stuff with this body like the disgusting bug he is.

[uselesslexbian]

bottoms (2023) sentence starters.

we've looked like shit for years, and we are developing.

we're finally hot. at least, according to me.

nobody's going to want to fuck me this year, just like nobody wanted to fuck me last year or the year before.

i've been building tension.

i'm playing the long game with her, okay?

what the fuck happened to her?

that made me so sad. what?

i don't need this negative, really sad attitude. please.

what the fuck are you wearing?

nobody hates us for being gay. everyone hates us for being gay, untalented, and ugly.

oh my god, she ate shit is what happened.

she ate literal shit? what the fuck?

or did you get beat up again?

yeah, we went to juvie.

i don't want to say it, but we're fucked!

why do you always have to flirt with other women?

it doesn't count if they're not in high school.

would you like a safety ride?

i'm sorry that i looked at mrs. reilly and lightly grazed her left tit, alright?

don't talk to me, you ugly bitch, okay? i do not talk to girls in overalls.

okay, i might be ugly, but these aren't overalls.

you're being really mean right now.

i heard you, like, beat up my boyfriend last night?

maybe i SHOULD buy a gun.

what? don't buy a gun. nobody said buy a gun.

guys do that all the time, okay? that's the point of feminism.

that's not the point of feminism. you also don't care about feminism.

why would you lie to me?

so you killed a girl?

i know how to take a punch.

i was thinking, if they were coming at me with, like, swords and, like, knives, and like, guns and stuff, and you taught me how to punch like that, then i wouldn't die.

can i be honest? you're a person who's not coping with what's going on.

sometimes, when you have a new hobby, don't show up.

that's my favorite way to be an ally. you just say you're doing something, and then you don't do any of those things.

my dad left me, and i'm incredibly punctual.

i'm gonna finally reverse-stalk my stalker.

i'll be able to kill my stepdad.

i love talking about my trauma.

i literally jack off after every single therapy session.

yeah, well, all women are hot to me.

we had to just, like, fight people, sometimes to the death.

i still hear their screams at night, and that guilt will probably shackle me forever.

i realize now, i don't have to be that person anymore. i don't have to just let things happen to me.

i just get the hot people confused. jesus.

i can't answer that question, because i don't know how to read.

no, i would never cheat on you again, okay?

what about, like, a bomb? like a super small bomb. they're super easy to make.

yeah, let's do terrorism.

don't get distracted, 'cause we can be fined like $2 for this.

i really value when people use violence and raise their voices for me. it's actually one of my love languages.

no, leave the skin on his face, will you?

i'm not a fucking idiot. i just look like this.

man, i knew women were evil.

all of the blame just goes on me, then? like, none of this can be traced back to you at all?

i didn't want to do this from the beginning. you know that.

does it even matter? do you even care? do you actually like her? do you care about anyone other than yourself?

do you care about anyone other than yourself?

just find some other girl to jack off to and do nothing about.

if you don't wanna borrow firearms, then why are you here?

sorry, people didn't know you're gay?

i never had many friends, and that's sad. and as i've gotten older in this world, it's just gotten more sad.

okay, well, obviously, why would you lay it out like that? because it sounds insane.

i'm sorry for saying that you have no friends really loud in front of all of your friends.

i'm sorry for being an asshole a lot of the time. most of the time. all of the time.

that is obviously a red flag. are we not reading that as a red flag? that's crazy.

oh, now you want a bomb.

in your fucking dreams, which you don't deserve to have. when you sleep, it should just be like, total darkness.

i do want to say... i feel like you killed that guy.

we killed a lot of guys. we'll process it later.

you didn't have to start a whole fight club just to date me. you could have just talked to me.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls: 3x8 Let The Games Begin (Aka Let The ShitCircus Begin) (Send In The Clowns) (Send Help) (Part 1)

You can read my thoughts on all previous episodes in my Pinned Post. Ladies and Gentlemens, do you know what time it is? it is officially Literati Kickoff Time.

To get everyone up to speed, in the last episode, Rory recieved a Public Dumping for the Ages, Dean has stepped down as Rory's Primary Male Life Ruiner and handed that crown to Jess, Shane has been eviscerated into a bloody pulp, Lorelai and Luke both missed the showdown at the DM and so Lorelai learned about this tea off-screen sometime between the last episode and this one. It's yet unclear whether Lorelai learned what happened through second hand gossip or if Rory dusted off her Season 1 Balls of Steel and had the courage to inform her mother that Dean was out and Jess was in. Episode Opener: we see Rory and Lorelai walking through town shortly after the dance marathon, complaining about their sleep deprivation and achy feet. ("At least you bitches still have your feet," says Shane's dismembered ghost, looking down at her new webbed swan feet).

What is this shirt? It looks like an octopus ejaculated on this shirt.

Hey baby hey baby hey! J: Hi R:Hey J:Hi Lor: Hi (Who told you you could speak? Butt out, bish) Luke: Hi Jess: Hi R: I have to get to school. J: Me too. R:Bye J:Bye. Bye. Lorelai: Bye (bish, I swear...) R: Bye Luke: Bye Jess: Disappears

Only THE CUTEST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED?! That was so cute, they should be immortalized into a pair of Precious Moments figurines. The little plaque on the figurine would be titled "Idiots In Love." So naturally, a certain Grinch in a lavendar blouse has a problem with this and it only further reassures her that Jess is nothing more than A Sex Criminal (who would never murder anyone).

Yay. Lorelai and I are both crying on the inside over this development, but for vastly different reasons. Anyway, look at her hanging her head! This bish is in mourning! Look at how depressed this bish is! Hahaha! Get SAD, BISH! I WILL LICK YOUR SALTY, SALTY TEARS! Ahem. I haven't seen such a somber delivery since the medical examiner delivered the news to Shane's parents that he had positively identifed her mutilated corpse.

Who will visit my home and sift through my panty drawer now? Luke: What happened? Lorelai, somber as a funeral director: Jess happened. Luke, uncharacteristically giddy with excitement: Wow! WOW! This is great! Wow! Rory and Jess! Jess and Rory! This is great! Don't you think this is great! Honestly Luke and Lorelai reflect both sides of my conflicting feelings about the Literati Shit-Circus. Lor: "I'll tell Dean you said that." I'm sure you will before the next time you gargle his dick. I think it's the next episode where Lorelai tells Dean, "Just because you and Rory broke up doesn't mean we did." #Sick

MOMMY FAIL! Rory is 18. She's a fucking adult so leave her alone. Anyway, what does that mean? I think it's code for "It's about time Rory dated a boy who knows how to remove a bra.' Luke: I know Jess is tough (LOL, yeah, he's a real toughie, just look at that last exchange) but he likes Rory and Rory's a good kid. Her good will rub off on him.

You are so full of baloney. You're a Baloney Superstore. You are the Walmart of Baloney. Oh, this episode contains multitudes. Lorelai is insufferable on not just one but two fronts. Heavens to betsy. This is the episode where she has a shit-fit over Richard taking Rory to interview at Yale. One of the most ridiculous Lorelai tantrums I can ever recall, at least in the earlier seasons. Maybe not as insane as "I'd rather my child and I be homeless than accept a loan from my mother to save my termite infested house" but it's up there in the top 5 for me.

I am so brave. Ar FND, Richard invites Rory to embark on said Road Trip to Yale, which shouldn't be a big deal for a child with any other mother besides Lorelai Gilmore, but this is Rory so she is shaking lke a flu stricken chihuaua at the thought of her mother finding out she would ever deign to visit a school endorsed by her grandparents. She reluctantly accepts, then quietly pees her pants.

God speed, girlypop.

Fun with Product Placement time: Rory went to fetch a soda from the kitchen, and my immediate thought was: "These rich bitches better have name brand Coca Cola in their fridge, and not that odd Hansen's soda that Rory is always drinking", and they do. A real honest to god prominently labeled Coke can. Girlypop here is feeling the heavy weight of possibly displeasing her mother in both her romantic and academic choices. She has a lot on her plate right now. While the car is parked in the Gilmore Grands driveway after FND, girly pop musters up the courage to tell Lorelai "Grandpa wants us to go on a road trip to Yale" which causes Lorelai to huff and immediately exit the car. She begins storming back into the house, intent on demanding that her father explain this unbelievably callous and cruel attempt to brainwash her daughter into considering another school besides Harvvard. Rory stops her at the porch. where a lengthy argument ensues. Rory has to (once again) dig in her heels to defend her position against Lorelai over something so STUPID. I am really sitting here watching Lorelai and Rory go back and forth forever just because (ADULT) Rory wants to visit a college campus at the invitation of her own grandfather. Lorelai even calls Richard a "master manipulator" for this evil plot. You know what Rory, stop asking Lorelai for her input. Since you don't have a car, just hop on a bus to New Haven and just fucking go. After comparing the city of New Haven to leftover sludge at the bottom of a coffee pot, Lorelai decides she's going to accompany Rory on the trip anyway, even though its been made quite clear she does not have to go (just like the Sherry Baby Shower). In both instances, Lorelai's presence will ruin everything. Per @frazzledsoul: "Lorelai is so spoiled here. Imagine being a parent of a teenager and your worst problem is what Ivy League school your kid goes to." Amen. The rest of this episode promises to be a complete shitshow of epic proportions. At least the next episode is "Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving", one of the best.

[poisonedspider]

I am going to say the most controversial head canon that is going to get me screamed at, maybe hate anons, maybe even loser followers (okay no that's dramatic af but you know...I'm prepping myself).

I've been thinking a lot about this, and if we are talking immediate post-canon (I don't think I'll agree with this down the line as things develop more but...hear me out), if Angel was asked to choose between Valentino and Husk, I don't think he'd be able to. So many people are like "omf Angel would choose Husk no question" but...I disagree with that.

For one, domestic violence relationships are a bitch. And even if you know you deserve better deep down, or even if someone SHOWS you better, there's a lot of mental olympics around that. Gaslighting is huge. The whole 'no one will love you like I can.' And Angel, especially, would have these feelings. It's so obvious he's falling in love with Husk (I see you sappy look in the finale), but he also doesn't want to damage Husk by being with him. I truly think Husk feels the same with Angel, because both of them think they're damaged goods. (Let's not forget Loser Baby was not just to cheer up Angel, but also was very transformative for Husk feeling seen for once).

Due to his past relationships, he would also have a lot of doubt. Trust issues. Fear. He knows Husk doesn't just want him for his body like everyone else, which is already a huge start, but. He also doesn't think anyone fully accepts him the way Valentino does. This is where I get smacked a bit, but I stand by my word that Angel is a huge sexual flirt (COKED UP DICK SUCKING HO EVERYONE), and Husk adamantly denied all his advances. Understandable, yes, and it was Angel being fake - but not fully. Valentino doesn't care if he gets high as a kite, sucks a bunch of dick, blows a bunch of money. And while Angel is stepping away from that - it's still what he enjoys. I saw a post about how Bee is what Angel could be if he was allowed to live his lifestyle in a healthy way. And I agree with that.

Also, let's add Alastor into the mix once he finds out - you're telling me this son of a bitch won't fuck with Angel's mind about how he isn't good enough, that Husk won't want him once he realizes how fucked up Angel is, blah blah.

So right now, Valentino feels safe. I mean, he obviously isn't for all the abusive reasons, but it's safer than Husk. Safer than this unknown. Safer than completely abandoning the very small affection he knows will never go away (even if he wishes it would) for someone that he doesn't even know is interested in him back. Angel isn't used to slow burn. Angel goes into things hard and fast (pun intended?) Until he knows with absolute certainty that Husk loves him regardless. Until they both have big talks and long cries and work through their traumas. Until they both can trust again. I have no doubt in my mind this is going to happen for us, and then my head canon will change. But for now, it's like walking a tight rope. One way has certainty, the other way doesn't. The certainty might be abusive, but people are often known to stay with what they know. Change is terrifying. Self-sabotage is a real thing.

So no, he wouldn't just be like "well Husk, duh." That basically eliminates everything that Poison stood for. Yes, through the course of the song he starts realizing that it's getting worse and worse - first he was living like there's no tomorrow, now he's wishing there was something to live for tomorrow. But he does still acknowledge he's drowning in it. There's no escape. And it isn't just because the contract. It's because abusive relationships are terrifying, and can take years...and years...and years to get out of. Sometimes it's too late.

And before I get hate anons that I'm a Val simp or something, or I ship ValAngel, no. I'm writing Angel from a very real perspective as someone who is a therapist. As someone who did a Seeking Safety group for three years which was for victims of domestic violence. As someone who told my therapist the other day that I write ValAngel because it is important that these dynamics be known, up front and dirty, rather than shied away from.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[melishade]

prompt # 23

This ask game

Marco getting his wounds checked out after Part 5: Airachnid Arc in the War Timeline. Also this is the written out scene: #31

Marco still felt pain in his head, even days after he received medical treatment after the debacle with Airachnid. It was the first time any of them had encountered a metal titan that was hostile and deadly, but Jack's initial panic had indicated that more like her were here on their world, and they would stop at nothing to destroy the Autobots, and in turn, them.

They knew they had to deal with Airachnid, no matter how reluctant Marco's group was after Jack's description, but they couldn't let Airachnid return to the Decepticons with whatever she had discovered. They were successful in stopping her, but Airachnid had ripped out Marco's right eye for the fun of it. The thought still gave him vivid nightmares, and there were still phantom pains, but he was still alive, and that was something that he should be grateful for. Not to mention, Airachnid was successfully contained due to Jean and Mikasa's efforts.

Marco blinked a little bit when a strange light was flashed in his left eye. His vision cleared when he saw the Autobot medic's human form examine his vision before looking at the stitches that covered his right eye socket.

"I know my knowledge on human anatomy is still developing," Ratchet began as he turned off the flashlight, "But your wounds seem to be healing naturally. No signs of infection or inflammation. A few more days and the stitches should be removed. You'll no doubt need to wear something to cover your right side now."

"Thank you, sir." Marco nodded. Marco mumbled a little when Jack began to wrap clean bandages around his head to cover up his wound.

"If that is all, I'll be heading back to Optimus," Ratchet informed the two of them, "Airachnid has become a rather...interesting study for Hanji."

"Do what you gotta do." Jack gave a 'thumbs up' before Ratchet's holoform disappeared.

"You don't have to stay here and tend to my wounds," Marco insisted.

"Look, you were willing to put your life on the line like that. It's the least I can do," Jack reassured.

"Thanks for helping me heal up...and for visiting," Marco said, "How's Mikasa and Sasha?"

"They didn't get any injuries," Jack explained.

"And...Jean?" Marco pressed.

Before Jack could answer, the door swung open and Jean bolted into the room, looking out of breath and concerned.

"You didn't tell me he was awake!" Jean shouted at Jack.

"Look there's been a lot going on, and I can't give you clearance like that," Jack proclaimed, "You're from a different branch in the military."

"Jean," Marco began, but his friend walked over to him rather quickly and hugged him tight.

"Thank god, you're okay," Jean sighed with relief.

"I'm glad to see you too." Marco couldn't help but be surprised. Jean was acting so kind to him. Especially since majority of their previous interactions have been arguments. He supposed maybe the near-death experience was a blessing in disguise.

Jean let go of Marco before turning to Jack. "What happened to that spider bitch?"

"Airachnid's been captured," Jack answered, "She's not going anywhere. The problem is now that other Decepticons might come looking for her. We know the Decepticons came here to this world with us, but...what they're planning, we don't know."

"How do we counterattack?" Marco asked.

"Marco, you should be thinking about recovering!" Jean exclaimed.

"Jean, this is bigger than us!" Marco reminded.

"We don't know yet," Jack answered, "The Decepticons have always had an advantage over the Autobots, but now the Autobots have even less resources. And based on Airachnid's talks, the Decepticons have to be aware of how the power of the titans works."

Jack rubbed his eyes. "There's just...a lot to consider."

Marco looked down at his hands with his remaining eye. "...then...I guess I'm going to have to learn how to see with only one eye."

"You're seriously thinking about joining the fight?!" Jean demanded.

"I don't have a choice," Marco insisted, "If I sit by and do nothing, these Decepticons might come for us anyway. I have to play my part as a member of the Survey Corps."

"But you don't have to be!" Jean reminded, "You ranked in the top ten and you've been injured in the line of duty! You could transfer to the Military Police or just live a quiet life!"

"Damn it, Jean! Why are you acting like this when I told you that I'm staying to fight?!" Marco demanded.

"Because I almost lost you!" Jean yelled at him, "I almost lost you because I was a coward! I didn't react fast enough in that cave and now you're reduced to this! You say that I can be relied upon but look at you! I caused that! You're my best friend and I hurt you!"

Jean grabbed Marco's shirt. "Just stay out of the fight! I'm begging you! I don't want you to die at the hands of monsters like those!"

Marco was almost touched at that, and he couldn't help but think to transfer or run away, but...he couldn't. He wouldn't be able to live a life he could be proud of if he ran and served the king. Marco almost laughed. What king? The king turned out to be a sham that was killed by Airachnid. His dreams of innocence and honor were gone. Now he needed to survive and live so that no one ends up like him.

"...I can't walk away," Marco relented, "No matter how scared I am, I can't walk away."

"...There's no shame in doing that," Jean insisted.

"...I still can't," Marco declared.

Jean's mouth formed a thin line and his face contorted into a grimace. "Then I guess I have no choice either."

"What?" Marco blinked in confusion.

"I...I have to join the Survey Corps!" Jean declared.

"...wow." Jack couldn't help but utter.

(So 28 has been asked, but everything else is free game.)

[butterfly--empress]

....About that Attack on Titan Series...

Well, well, well......I wasn't going to make this post, but fuck it, we here and I feel like ranting into the goddamn void, it's been a WHILE.

If you enjoyed this series from beginning to end and don't have the emotional maturity to understand that I don't fucking LIKE THIS SHIT. DO NOT REPLY

I don't have patience and I will block you on sight! As we fandom old's say: Don't Like? Don't Fucking Read!

Anyway onto the rant...

it's June 2024 and I finally after so many years, watched this show because it was recommended to me and I brought into the hype because I had NO IDEA just how derisive S4 and the series finale actually was back in the height of it's day.

I had always meant to eventually get around to watching the show and maybe even reading the manga alongside it, but as the years passed, I just never found the urge to pick it up.

And now that I have, after believing the show was great from beginning to end...

GOD, I sure wish I could get back the time I spent watching the entirety of Season 4, that Finale, and feeling utterly annoyed that a writer chose to end their story on such a nonsensical plot.

In fact, I sort of wished I never bothered at all to be quite honest.

The short of it: Seasons 1 to 3>>>>>>Season 4 and that awful ass Finale.

Very unfortunate too. This is just another case of 'great ideas, bad execution'.

And I'm not sorry but the more I think about it, the more I just cannot turn my brain off, suspend my disbelief and gaslight myself into accepting season 4 and that fucking finale as peak writing.

That shit was awful, the fact that seeing the latest interview from the creator himself, just reaffirms how strong the author's intent was when writing this last arc!

It wasn't the fact this was bad on accident, or that the creator ran out of ideas, OR the story got too complicated and complex, OR that he couldn't commit to what he already established in earlier seasons.

If his words are to be taken at face value from that interview:

It's not that this guy is a bad writer, Attack on Titan's last arc's messy writing:

-Plot holes and too many subplots that go nowhere

-Last minute ass-pulls and Deus Ex Machina that make no damn sense.

-Adding time travel-esque powers out of the blue, and it amounts to nothing in the end.

-Never giving an actual satisfying reason why Eren *couldn't defy his fate*.

--We not gonna talk about his mom...

-I'm not gonna bitch about that Ymir subplot about her loving her abusive ass slave master/husband, after what was already established before this point was fine by itself...nope, not going there...

-That god awful confusing asf 4yr time skip. (listen, I don't know NOR do I care at this point, if this time skip was elaborated on in the manga. This was just a poor attempt to hand wave away the obviously inconsistent switch OR lack of development to the characters I followed since ep 1.)

-The stagnation of already established characters we were with since the beginning and basically being replaced by new characters: the MINUTE the Marley characters took center stage, something in me just KNEW, the original crew were being replaced but hoping to GOD I WAS WRONG. --Turns out my gut feeling was correct and it makes me dislike these character more than I already did.

--Yeah, I really did not care AT ALL for the Marley crew. There's just something about shoehorning in new characters that I have no attachment to and telling me, they are now the real protagonists (who get sudden plot armor and make it alive by the end, with no real consequences...in a series that had no qualms about killing just about 90% of the characters I actually gave some fuck about and knew since ep 1 feels very contrived.)

-The unnecessary death of fan favorites that amounted to NOTHING

--I'm not...I'm just going to leave THIS ONE ALONE because I'll be here all fucking DAY and boy I'm doing enough ranting as it is.

~If You Know, You KNOW!~

-I'm not going to rant about the female characters because 1. we'll be here all day, 2. to be fair: most of the characters sort of fell flat regardless of gender anyway. (But I def get that the female cast in particular was done so dirty in the last arc. It's one thing for shounen writers to write one dimensional female characters...you have to be some kind of SPECIAL to create two-dimensional, even three-dimensional female characters only to downgrade them to their lowest common denominator. THE AUDACITY, THE INSULT TO MY FUCKING INTELLIGENCE!)

-I'm not going to bother about the shipping: it's obvious that a certain ship was going to be canon but god, do I really need to bitch about the utter lack of meaningful development to get it from point A to B?

--Then again, maybe it was supposed to be toxic? Lord knows it fits well into the clusterfuck of the last arc of this story.

--Honestly, I was more into a non canon ship that developed thru friendship naturally onscreen anyway, so I have no horse in this race.

-The BIG ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM of mixes messages, that maybe, certain extreme ideologies are correct and justified.

--Yeah, we gonna leave this one alone too...Honestly because this is actually the one thing I don't think was intentional, even if the blatant implications of it are there...and I don't want to make assumptions of the man's politics and what he believes, and his worldview (outside of his personal feelings about himself), I don't know him personally.

--I will however, rant to high hell and I do think he utilized and underutilized the allegory he borrowed from real life history; which led to the unfortunate 'Fantastical Racism' that happens in AoT.

--The slaughtering of poignant thematic themes, period!

--That bad ending (not that it's tragic per se, but just thematically bad).

~~Are you starting to see a pattern??~~

ALL THIS TO SAY:

He didn't WANT to allow his story to progress 'naturally' in the direction it 'wanted to go'.

Isayama didn't want to commit to anything he established. The story is the way it is, because he INTENDED it to be this way.

Eren fails to be a great hero OR antihero (depending on how one sees it) because Isayama doesn't think he, himself is a great person even if others tell him he is. (Ring a Bell?)

And I think it's a hard pill for a lot of people to swallow. Your time was wasted theory crafting, giving the creator the benefit of doubt, all for him to basically say, because he suffered from a serious case of 'Imposter Syndrome', you are an idiot for ever thinking this story was great, was suppose to be more than it is, and that his success isn't earned because he doesn't feel that way and you have to feel that way too.

The creator wanted a nihilistic, myopic, depressive ending. Worldbuilding, lore, cohesive storytelling be DAMNED, because he let his negative feelings about himself bleed way too much into his work.

He wanted the message if there was one at all: there's no point in putting hope in humans because 'we're all just trash anyway', people will always fight, good people shouldn't sacrifice their lives to help humanity or put any hope into humans evolving to change our ways, so why try to find another way, and maybe 'Hitler was right'.

It gets worse when the creator HIMSELF, out of his OWN MOUTH, stated; if he WANTED TO, he could have given the story a better proper send off. He knows what he wrote, and he knows that the natural, better progression of the story he created would have been better received by the fans and critics alike, if he allowed it to go in that direction, but he didn't want that.

Granted: I'm all for writers doing ultimately what they want with their stories, for better or worse.

But that's not what he wanted. And that's what I take from all of this.

However what pisses me off, is that he should have been HONEST about the story/themes/message he wanted to portray from the start.

I don't have a problem with tragic, depressive tales and it's themes, if it is done right. This was not done right and we know it wasn't, because you can look at past and even present discussions and arguments throughout this fandom and see that people have valid reasons to be very upset. (No one likes for their intelligence to be insulted when the story takes them out of the immersion to the point, that the critical thinking jumps in, and now a person is starting to realize that a lot of writing choices that they ignored before, because the story was still good, are now flaws. Stories don't have to be PERFECT, but once those flaws can't be ignored, people begin to see them as the red flags that they are. We might be hopeful, that these flaws or plot holes will be course corrected at some point, but we will not ignore, when we see the trajectory of a story's plot going downhill to the point of no return. AoT's story went beyond the Point of No Return...ON PURPOSE!)

What grinds my gears about this entire situation is that, we have a creator here, who purposely build up a story, world, characters, and themes that the audience expected would follow through and make sense, given what we have of the story.

Only for the creator to fail spectacularly by trying to fucking subvert the audiences' expectations, and seeming to really not give a damn that it's what he wanted to do from the start.

Despite whatever issues he feels or has about himself, it sours whatever sympathy I may have for the guy, because in a way, what he decided to do of his own free will, seems very jaded and quite narcissistic...

I SAID WTF I SAID

It's the audacity for me.

People were lead on, lied to, and wasted their time for nothing.

Character motivations, deaths, sacrifices, the themes, worldbuilding, all of it, amounted to NOTHING.

We were idiots to put good faith into the author. We were idiots to think, this story was worth it. For some of us, it felt like a slap in the face if you were an original fan since the story's inception and honestly, your resentment for sticking with it til the end for ten plus years for an unsatisfying bullshit finale is very valid.

TL:DR: AoT's ending is trash because the Author wanted it to be trash, and that's really, unfortunately what it all amounts to.

Soo, yeah, I don't think I can really say much more than that.

Man should have just stuck with Keeping It Fucking Simple Simon and just ended the story where literally everybody dies from fighting giant ass flesh eating zombies called titans.

Okay NOW I'M DONE WITH THIS!

Edit: GOD, and here I thought I finally fallen into another great shounen on the same level as FMA:BH after the constant disappointment, that is MHA's last arc.

...Maybe I'm getting too old for anime, at least 'shounen'....idk...anymore

At least Spy x Family can't hurt me...