#ta: carmen

[childhoodcreativity]

(c) Arctic Monkeys

[jordanshenessy]

What if I just reread aftg and went insane again 🤪

[bringmeadream]

Joker also got the fedora + trench coat style

[nanowired-lover]

sometimes it shows that some (french speakers mostly) people my age didn't listen to Racine Carrée as a kid, bc damn when I tell you Carmen changed my views on social medias forever as a 12 yo *head in hands*

[apamates]

extremadamente específico pero una amiga que vio la primera temporada de The Bear me dice que en su mente Carmy es maracucho y no puede verlo de otra manera porque se la pasa gritando en la cocina y diciendo "primo" cada 10 segundos

[love-quinn]

— PARTIAL CREDIT

summary — when a new member of the waitstaff starts undermining you, you worry that your job might be in jeapordy. carmen knows you better than you think.

warnings — swearing, i think that's it

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, semi (?) established relationship

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.2k

note — i know i fully dropped off the face of the earth but unfortunately i was too busy channeling waitress reader a little too hard, i actually have to leave for work in a few hours but i really wanted to get something out. this 100% isn't inspired by true events or me projecting in any way, anyway i hope you enjoy!! <3

Being the only waitress at a successful restaurant is hard. During the dinner rush, between wiping tables, grabbing drinks and running food, you’ve slowly learned to be more adaptable to the Bear’s new clientele base. That’s not without its struggles, of course. 

Fortunately, Carmy and Natalie seem to understand that it’s a major handful to simply do your job. Which is why Richie thought it appropriate to call you in two hours early to meet the new waiter.   

Liam’s nice from what you’ve gathered. He’s been working with you at the Bear for about two months at this point, most of that has involved you and Richie training him, and he’s been very receptive to your instruction. 

Sure, sometimes he mutters under his breath when a customer asks him for something, but hey, they’re annoying sometimes. And sure, sometimes you find him in the walk-in on his phone, but you’d be lying if you said you were never on your phone at work. He’s had no complaints, and the work is always done to a standard that’s expected (he is still in training, you’re not delusional). 

You’ve worked at the Bear since they were still the Beef, right after Carmen took over. He realised Richie couldn’t keep up with the stuff at the front by himself, so he’d gone with the cheapest option available and thanked god every day that you weren’t awful at your job. You had just graduated from UofC and if you didn’t get a job when you had, you would have been pretty much out of options. You had no work experience outside of being a TA in college (which apparently didn’t have a lot of transferable skills, according to most of your potential bosses). You hadn’t been able to score an insane internship, you didn’t make super stellar grades, you’d been too busy being desperately poor and struggling to keep up.

You’d been really lucky that Carmen had taken a chance on you when he had, and you had been desperate to show him you were aware of that. Liam didn’t seem to have the same sentiment.

He was the same age as you, and he’d actually gone to UofC as well. He’d gotten a pre-med degree but wanted to take some time off before he went for his MD at Rosalind Franklin. 

He picked up on the work fairly easily, remembered when you showed him where the cleaning supplies were, showed him how to work the buttons on the till to ring in orders, and introduced him to all the staff. They were nice to him, nice enough. It took them a while to warm up to him, just like it took them a second to warm up to Carmen, to Sydney, to you. 

But now, several months in, they all got along enough that work was going well. You didn’t have to work six days a week if you didn’t want to now that Liam was there to lighten the load (you did, you made sure Natalie knew that). Now, you could actually take your lunch break without worrying they were being completely overrun. 

On the whole, things seemed to really improve. 

Until, of course, they didn’t. 

You started hearing whispers, soft remarks of “Oh, I did that for her,” to Richie about greeting table seventeen. Small “I wonder why that wasn’t done, I’ll just do it quickly.” 

“Not to be that person, but I noticed that a lot of the straws haven’t been stocked up. I feel like I have to do it every time. I just wonder what she’s doing when she’s back here…”

You do your best to not let it get to you. He’s never worked in the service industry before, he’s probably just doing his best to make sure that his efforts are being noticed. You were almost lucky, in that way, that you were the only real waitress they’d hired. 

It’s an unusually warm day as you slide in through the back entrance to work. You’re your usual twenty minutes early, lucky that there’s enough work to do that Carmen often encourages punctuality (and thus, fairly compensates for it). 

Liam is scheduled today, but he’s leaving after the lunch shift. You get your break while the kitchen does prep-work for dinner, and then you’re coming back for dinner as well. 

Marcus is in his corner, kneading bread dough with a concentrated look on his face. You brush past him with an airy hello that he returns with a half-hearted wave, not looking up from his task. 

Tina is on vegetables, and she stops you for a moment to ask about a shipment arriving. You assure her that you’ll check when you get to the other side of the kitchen, making your way to the front.

The chairs are already all down, table cloths clean and freshly washed. Sydney went down to the laundromat to get them all clean that morning; she’d texted you and asked if you wanted to come but you told her that you really, really didn’t. 

Your first job is a pre-opening sweep, then a restock, then a menu review. You have 87 minutes until service, and Liam should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. You have just enough time to go and bug Richie into showing you more pictures of Eva’s last birthday party. 

You stick your head into the office just in time to catch the tail end of a sentence that you definitely weren’t meant to hear; “...doesn’t even stack the chairs? What is she doing here?”

Your work anxieties - the idea that every time something goes wrong it was your fault, that one missed drink or late appetiser would have you fired, that every time a customer berated you it was actually your fault - had definitely eased some in the six months you’d been working there. You’d stopped thinking that every time someone was complaining it was about you, but that meant that when they really were talking about you, you knew. 

Liam’s standing there, leaning up against a pile of papers that Carmen is staring roughly at. He looks tired - when doesn’t he? - and like he doesn’t really want to hear whatever it was that Liam was saying. 

“A lot more than you do,” Carmen grumbles. He runs a hand over his face from the bottom up, coming to a rest when it’s gripping onto his curls. 

“I’m always covering her sections,” Liam groans. “The amount of time that Rich’s given me her table’s drinks, it’s insane. We should start pooling our tips.”

Carmen wants to say a lot back to that. That his name is Richie, and calling him Rich doesn’t make him any more like the finance frat bros that Liam is so desperate to associate with. That tip pooling would be insanely unfair to you considering Carmy’s pretty sure Liam’s made less than what you make in a day. That he stacks the chairs because he likes to, and you know that. 

Instead, he settles on “you’re always covering her sections because she’s always covering up for you when you screw up.”

Liam looks like he’s unsure whether or not to go ghostly pale or beet red at the statement. “Wh- has my performance not been up to scratch, sir?”

Carmen stands. “I didn’t really notice it, at first, cause everything was going so well. She’d never tell on you, she knows what it’s like to struggle at a job.” He looks disdainfully down at Liam’s too-new dress shoes. Professional but impractical as a waiter. From what Carmen’s noticed, this is the second pair he’s ruined. “She’d never tell me that your silverware is never rolled, so she’s been staying late and rolling every single one of them. She’d never tell me that your tables are never cleared away. She’d never tell me that you had six meals comped in your first month because you couldn’t be fucked writing shit down.

So yeah, maybe you get her tables a refill when she’s too busy telling one of us one of your guests was coeliac because you forgot to, but that does not give you the right to look down your entitled fucking nose at her.” Carmen gets close, not close enough to the point where it could be uncomfortable, but much closer than he’d ever get to Liam if he could help it. 

“You don’t like picking up her slack? That’s fine, that’s fucking fine, because to be honest, it seems like you’re creating more work for her anyway. You’re done.”

He looks pointedly towards the door to the small office. 

Liam knows exactly what Carmy’s telling him. “Sir, I-”

Carmen raises a finger and points. “You’re fucking done.”

Liam scampers away so quickly he doesn’t even see you eavesdropping. 

Carmy knows, though. He seems to have a sixth sense for when you walk into a room. If you’re not planning on coming in to confront him about firing Liam then he has no intention of bringing it up with you. He sits down, putting his forehead on his fist. “Sir.”

You’re standing right in the door, it’s practically impossible for Carmen not to notice you. But he pretends, allowing you the chance to slip away and act like you hadn’t just witnessed him firing Liam for being slightly mean to you. 

He opens his eyes to see you standing there still. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” your voice is soft. The collar of your shirt is tucked underneath on one side, and Carmen has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out. He’s not quite sure why and he doesn’t feel like unpacking it. “He’s still learning, I don’t mind helping him out.”

Carmen doesn’t mince his words. “He’s a dick, don’t defend him.”

He swivels away from his desk and gestures for you to sit. After a second of hesitation, you perch yourself on top of the small surface. You’re not sure who moves first, Carmen to reach up and take your hands or you to reach down to let him. Neither of you have ever spoken about it, like a lot of things. How he always makes sure you get extra food and you make sure Carmen isn’t bothered while he sets up the dining room. 

You hadn’t realised how much Liam had been heightening your anxiety while he was there. “He’s not allowed to do that to you.” Carmy sounds genuinely pissed. “You do fucking everything out there, he’s not allowed to come in and treat you like some sanctimonious fuck. You… you should’ve come to talk to me about it.” He gives in. “You could’ve.”

“I didn’t want to be a problem.” You admit quietly. “You have enough without me.”

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t talk when he drives you home in the dark, in the snow. But he’d be naive to believe that the same rules applied to everyone else. The kitchen staff talks, none more than Richie. Carmy is surprised he hadn’t decked that pre-med asshole already. 

“You’re not a problem, honey,” he says gruffly. You stay silent for a moment before realising that’s probably all you’re going to get out of him. 

“I need to go prep dining for service,” you say after a moment, not wanting to speak too loudly. 

Camry’s grip on your hand tightens and for a brief second he feels panic set in. You clearly are feeling okay, so it’s not that he needs to check on you. You’re well ahead of schedule. There’s no reason for Carmen to keep his hand enclosed around yours. And yet he does. And yet you let him.

“Liam was just in here bragging about how dining room prep was already done,” he says after a short while. “You’re well ahead of time.”

“He is,” you point out airily. “I’d never want to take credit for his work.”

Carmen squeezes your hands once, eyes crinkling at the sides. You both know you need to go over everything Liam did in an attempt to make himself look better, not one hundred percent trusting him to have done it properly. There’s 56 minutes until service before Carmen finally lets you go (and only because he has prep he needs to get done).

Plenty goes unsaid between you and Carmen. You don’t say anything when he cracks his office door open for you when you need a breather. You don’t say anything when his station’s been cleaned for him miraculously while you’re waiting for him to finish paperwork.

Luckily for you, the rest of your coworkers seem to understand this time. Nobody mentions Liam or his absence. No one mentions the stars drawn on the band-aid on Carmen’s wrist. And, most surprisingly pleasant, no one mentions how Carmen has started calling you honey more than perhaps your real name.

It makes it even nicer when everyone heads out, leaving you and Carmen alone in the restaurant for the night. They seem to have miraculously developed tact over the last 24 hours, but you’re pretty sure nothing could have stopped Richie from telling everyone about the way that Carmen holds your hand the entire way to your apartment. 

[kuunibal]

Mon amour, je sais que tu m'aimes aussi

Tu as besoin de moi

Tu as besoin de moi dans ta vie

Tu ne peux plus vivre sans moi

Et je mourrais sans toi

Je tuerais pour toi

— Lana Del Rey, “Carmen”

My love, I know you love me too

You need me

You need me in your life

You cannot live without me

And I would die without you

I would kill for you

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 9: I'd Love to Drown in This Spell

Screenshot Credit: @neverscreens

Bearblr Promptober Day 9: Impact Play

Summary: In which Carmen and his girlfriend talk about impact play, and he gets a little spark of confidence in the bedroom.

Warnings: Swearing, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon (nothing gross described) in mind, she/her pronouns, talking about impact play, fluff.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Reblogs appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

09 Oct 2024

Personally, I wish people asked more questions of me instead of operating on their assumptions.

She doesn’t try to read my mind or assume because of some tangential situation in the past. I don’t try to be a chaotic disaster of a human being, but I am painted with those colors. And try as I might to reign in those entropic tendencies—whether by stalling my breath or gritting my teeth or setting alarms for when to wake up, when to get to The Bear, when to call my girlfriend, to close down, to leave my office, to come home, make dinner, write my thoughts down, go to bed—my emotional state perpetually ticks to discordant metronomes. I can try to act any sort of consistent, but the tiniest things throw me off. I can try to have consistent opinions, but they will vary wildly anyway. Like even the act of physical intimacy, of cuddling or sex or letting her play with my hair or trace invisible patterns on my chest. Love it, but it depends on so many factors prior to getting lost in kisses and her soft, warm skin that she just finds it better to ask.

Like the time she asked me about impact play.

“Can I ask you a question?” She always started that way. It’s a little thing—a check in to see if I have the mental square footage to entertain one.

We were cozied up in bed under the new comforter she bought at the turn of Fall. Her hands and forearms were killing her because she did 9 days straight in house or on call (either working at the hospital or waiting to be called in, in case I forget), got called in each day, and spent more hours fiddling with little surgical tools than not. So, I worked on them, rubbed out the knots close to her elbows, squeezed her pretty hands to soothe the ache. It’d become engrained in my routine by now, to massage her arms or her legs or her shoulders—whatever ached. Gave me something to do with my hands while also being with her.

I nodded. “Shoot.”

“How do you feel about impact play?”

I froze rubbing out a tense spot in her forearm. “About what?”

Mercifully, she didn’t burst out into giggles. Just held a straight face and explained, “Spanking, riding crop, flogger. Hitting, but sensual.” I must’ve had an uncomfortable look on my face, because she ran her fingers through my hair and stroked my cheek with her thumb. “Some people like some pain with their pleasure.”

“How, uh…” Shit, my face started getting warm. “How would you know if-if…”

I was bright red, wasn’t I? Fucking hell, it was embarrassing to get so flustered so easily. I would’ve thought a few months of dating a girl and all the practice we got dealing with intense topics would’ve inoculated me against my shyness by then.

“If you like pain with your pleasure?” She offered.

I closed my eyes. Nodded. Mumbled, “Sorry, um… I-I don’t know why I keep getting…”

She scooted closer, rested her forehead against mine. Her lips were a millimeter away from mine—part of me wanted to capture them, to taste her and that strawberry lip balm that invariably became tangled up with the idea of her in my mind, but it was also nice to just. Be close. Stirred molten pleasure deep in the pit of my stomach. She wriggled her arm out of my grasp to rest a hand on my sternum.

“It’s probably because you haven’t had the chance to speak freely pretty much ever.” She feathered her hand down over my shoulder, down my arm, to the inside of my wrist, setting off an explosion of goosebumps wherever she trailed. “It’ll take time and practice. To answer your question: I suppose you just try it. Incrementally. Safely, you always want to be safe about it.”—Her hand left my wrist and reappeared on my face. Thumb brushed my lip, and I entertained the thought of sucking it into my mouth—“See if it feels good.”

The heat in my face started subsiding, replaced with a gentle sort of buzzing accompanying the heat in my core. “Do you like impact play?”

She placed the lightest kiss just under my bottom lip, spoke into my skin. “A little bit. I can do both the striking and the receiving, but I prefer to receive.”

Fucking hell, it was so hard to think with her like this, with her this close. But it was… nice? It was nice finding it hard to focus—never in a million years would I have guessed that I’d find myself in that position, slowly succumbing to the honeylike tone and touches of my lover and enjoying the process of my mind’s gears grinding to a halt. I was enthralled by her, entranced by the sound of her voice, the smell of her skin.

Should the world show me an ounce of mercy, I’d love to drown in this spell.

“What kind of impact play, my love?” I asked.

My hand moved without my input and curled around the back of her knee. Thinking back on it now, it was natural. Like I’d done it a thousand times. I wasn’t afraid or nervous.

She trailed a hand down my chest and around my side. Her voice had the smallest hint of a waver in it. For once, I was fucking her up. “I’m not terribly picky. I think a flogger might be my favorite. It’s more of a temporary sting that doesn’t bother me too much at work. Though, it has to be used kinda lightly for that.”

I couldn’t resist the urge to hook her leg over my hip and pull her closer. She was warm—the inside of her thigh on my hip, especially—and the weight soothed some dull aching low in my spine, almost at my tailbone, that I didn’t know was present until then. She squeaked in surprise, and I took the opportunity to kiss her. She froze for a moment (only a moment, just long enough for my newfound confidence to think about shaking) but then she tightened her leg around my side and wove her hand in my hair. My head spun. I was too warm, but not the same kind of boiling that accompanied my panic attacks; this warmth was different, broad, shallow rather than deep, encompassing rather than consuming. It frazzled me all the same. Maybe she sensed it, because she tipped her head back and pulled me in so I could draw in a lungful of air and kiss her throat.

“What does it feel like?” I murmured into her pulse.

She didn’t answer immediately. “Ever get whacked by a jump rope? Not, like, super hard, but like a sting on your ankle or something?”

I nodded. Pushed the comforter down to my waist. Settled back on the pillow so I could meet her gaze. She was blinking slowly.

“A bit like that,” she said. “Lighter. Your ass takes it better than your ankle though, you got some padding there.”

I grinned. “Well, that just makes sense.”

The heat in the pit of my stomach started fading. I needed to think about menu prepping for next month.

“Doesn’t it?” She traced my cheekbone. “Your dark circles are worse, baby. Long day?”

Long life.

“Yeah. Long day.”

“You might like it on your back,” she said. It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about. “Flogger. You might like it on your back. More so than your pretty ass.”

“My ass is pretty now?”

She giggled, kissed my forehead. “All of you is pretty, Carm.”

“Why my back?”

“Less vulnerable.”

I tucked her hair behind her ear, swept over her cheek with my bent knuckles. She’s soft. All of her is soft, but not in some fragile, delicate way—not in a way that feels easy to damage. But like she’s made of fine materials, with fine craftsmanship. Like someone—I would say God, but he’s a deadbeat because why else would my life be a hellscape—really took their time and tuned and balanced every little thing about her. There’s this fine porcelain bowl that I came across in a secondhand shop in Copenhagen—handmade in Japan, based on what I could find from the maker’s mark on the bottom, out of some of the finest Kaolin clay on Earth. I had to flip it over to see if the foot ring of the bowl was unglazed because the fired clay itself was so fine, smooth, polished that the edge where glaze broke over bare clay was nearly indiscernible to touch. I felt like I had no right holding a thing so fine, made with such care, without gloves on or something to protect it from the oils in my skin. That’s what it feels like to touch her. Like I had no right to be doing so. That I was in the wrong state—that I was grimy or dirty or that I needed to be polished or refined.

It's funny what love teaches you if you let it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered, drawing my attention back to her. She worked her fingers through my hair. “Where’d you go off to in that gorgeous head of yours?”

“I’d like to try it,” I said.

In retrospect, I’m relieved and perplexed that it didn’t come out sounding like a question.

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Mhmm.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I trust you. I want to try it.”

I didn’t need to explain further. She just nodded.

[viejospellejos]

Ta potente la bici

Enviado por: Carmen

[hansfallada]

i love you ta fête i love you papaoutai i love you bâtard i love you ave cesaria i love you tous les mêmes i love you formidable i love you moules frites i love you carmen i love you humain à l'eau i love you quand c'est ? i love you sommeil i love you merci i love you avf i love you racine carrée

[childhoodcreativity]

(c) Zendaya

[ash-and-starlight]

Books of 2023

the list nobody asked for <3

My reading habits had gone a bit stagnant in the past couple of years so this year i made the effort to engage in reading again and wow books really are good!! who would have thought! Sharing this year's book log with the small reviews i did while reading yeah i am That kind of list lover if u feel like being nosy, (and maybe even help mi crowdsource reading recs based on my likes 👀🤲?)

The left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula i Need to know your thoughts on omegaver- [gunshot] THAT ASIDE yeah. mrs Le Guin you've done it again. I can see why everyone got their brain chemistry altered by this book.

The Membranes - Chi Ta-Wei another brain chemistry altering book. would love to discuss it with a gender studies major lmao

Satanic Verses - Salman Rushdie its a v atmospheric and poignant story, I know I would have loved it more if I was familiar with the rich religious/cultural background it draws from

The Masquerade Series - Seth Dickinson Crazy insane in the membrane about this series. one of the most compelling worldbuildings I've ever seen, and most importantly it features one of the most crazy wet pathetic scrunkly meow meow protagonists i've ever had the pleasure of reading about.

Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides i liked the writing style of this book a lot! idk how well it holds up re: intersexuality topic, but its a very engaging read.

Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers: Monstrosity, Patriarchy, and the Fear of Female Power - Jude Ellison, Sady Doyle The title says it all honestly, its a beautiful, thought provoking and engaging essay, spanning eras, pop culture phenomenons, and real life events on the topic of women and horror.

The cat who saved books - Sōsuke Natsukawa this was so cute and heartfelt, it will really make you go Ah Yes, this is Why we Love Books <333

The Locked Tomb Series - Tamsyn Muir now when people say there is a girl who is the cursed sacrifice of 2000 infants who falls in love with the sleeping embodiment of the soul of the Earth (barbie) and also another girl who is the only survivor of the aforementioned sacrifice and is. a Jesus metaphor? and also the two girls become one at some point. and every book is a different genre. and god is bisexual. and memes survived the nuclear apocalypse. I can just nod and say so true.

The Area X Trilogy - Jeff VanderMeer Rotating this series in the microwave of my mind at the speed of light it's soSO GOOD!! the movie doesn't even come close honestly u NEED to read the books. and then go touch grass and be aware of every strand in a completely new way.

The Dawn of Yangchen - F. C. Yee nice read! I was more invested in the worldbuilding crumbs than in the actual story lmao, I will forever think about the HEATED airball rivalry between the air temples and about the swt greetings / bethrotal armbands.

Inuit Stories of Being and Rebirth: Gender, Shamanism, and the Third Sex - Bernard Saladin d'Anglure starting w a disclaimer bc I feel like the topic of native colonization was ignored when it should have been way more prominent when talking about the context of where and when these testimonies were collected?? That aside it was very interesting and well put together, with first account testimonies of Inuit elders about their myths, lifestyles and beliefs.

Pachinko - Min Jin Lee i read the book after having seen the tv series (which i also rlly recommend). Very moving story about a family and its generations, from Korea under Japanese colonization to modern day America.

Her body and other parties - Carmen Maria Marchado sometimes I go about my day then I remember this book exists and stare at the wall for 30 minutes.

Dictionnaire de l'impossible - Didier Van Cauwelaert big miss. this collection of articles about "strange impossible phenomenons" sounded so quirky and interesting but i sure would have loved if the author hadnt so clearly picked a side. and also way too much church for my tastes.

He who Drowned the World - Shelley Parker Chan Im not even gonna speak about this one if you've followed me since july you know what pits of insanity and despair i'm in

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow - Gabrielle Zevin Sometimes!! the book with pretty covers put in the "famous on socials" bookstore section!! are good!! It's about being othered it's about connection it's about diaspora it's about love and friendship and most of all it's about viddy games.

Station Eleven - Emily St. John Mandel reading this post-covid and learning it was written in 2017 was A TRIP. Psychic damage at every page. still feeling very normla.

The Mask of Apollo - Mary Renault Ugh i desperately wanted to like this book because the setup is so interesting and full of potential, but the end result was just. flat. flat story flat characters the plot focusing on the wrong things at the wrong times i was so DONE when i reached the end otz.

Babel - R. F. Kuang LOVED the worldbuilding in this, the "lost in translation" system of magic is one of the most interesting things ive ever read. I think theres something about the writing in general that didn't win me over completely?? but all in all a very good

Red Ocean - Han Song This sure is a Book. That i've Read. its so profundly strange and unlike anything ive come across that i dont even know what to feel about it. i think 90% of my confusion comes from Not Getting Cultural References so if someone has a "red ocean explained" essay plz send it my way bc i couldnt find one.

[buckysdior]

okokok but now i’m thinking about new york!reader coming to chicago. and maybe they’re like visiting or moving here or something but it’s late at the bear, the kitchen is closed, the staff is sitting around, drinks in hand. you’re telling them all about your time with carmy in new york and while he pretends to hate it, really he loves having the one good piece of his old life here.

you were telling the bodega story. you love the bodega story. but you were telling it in what carmen called your radio voice. the voice you use professionally, the one that smooths out the bumps and cuts of how you naturally talk, no influences of your city or your culture. he loves hearing you talk and would do it for hours, radio voice or not (though he would prefer not).

he also knows that you’re a few drinks in and if he gets you the slightest bit passionate, it’ll jump out.

“—and carmy, poor thing, is looking at this sandwich so confused.”

“you said it was a philly cheesesteak!” he argues, beer bottle pointed at you.

“i said it was like new york’s version of a philly cheesesteak,” you counter with your bottle mirrored to his.

there it is. that emphasized ‘o’ in new york and clipped ‘k’s. the unedited version of you that was his home away from home.

“it was on a roll!”

“yeah, because a chopped cheese should be on a fuckin’ roll. also, the name has the word ‘chopped’ in it, ergo the meat is chopped up,” you’re gesticulating with the beer bottle in your hand and carmy just waves you off with a small smile. he’s missed this so much.

you sigh dramatically and lean over to tina on your right, “i swear ta’ god, when i first met carmy it was like watchin’ a baby deer learn ta’ walk. he was clueless!”

there’s laughter and richie elbows him as a silent tease, your version of carmen so different from theirs. he playfully counters, but he knows there’s some truth in it. “hey, i wasn’t that clueless.”

“babe, you paid 15 bucks at a fuckin’ halal cart,” you deadpan making eye contact with him, “it should only be like $8, max.”

“alright, alright, fuck off,” he resigns with a light tone, knowing you two could, and already have, banter about this all night.

you laugh and then you continue the rest of the bodega story—cat and all—with your voice sitting at it’s natural register and cadence.

and carmy just hopes this piece of new york stays with him forever.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Ta fête • Papaoutai • bâtard • ave cesaria • Tous les mêmes • Formidable • moules frites • Carmen • humain à l'eau • quand c'est ? • sommeil • merci • avf • papaoutai (ft. Angel Haze)

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[silly-lesb21]

Final product! Ta-da! This took so dang long…. But it’s done. This is Iris the dark little vampire. She’s dark, a little cold but a total softie to people she cares about. She has a gf named Carmen and they are a forever couple. Destined to be together till the end of the world.