#the bear challenge

[yeschefchallenge]

The first round of the seasonal The Bear writing challenge is here! And we are starting with the Fall Challenge.

You will find all neccessary information and rules here. Please read it carefully to avoid any confusion. The asks are always open to any questions, suggestions or comments in general 😊

🍂The running time/posting period for the Fall Challenge is October 18th to November 8th.(You can post your work anytime within these dates, and it will be re-blogged directly to Yes, Chef Challenge)

And the prompts for fall Yes, Chef challenge are:🍂the dialogue prompt: "Don't lie to me!"

🍂the trope prompt: Characters who are not together are mistaken for a couple.(the characters don't have to end up together or be involved romantically at all)

🍂 the very seasonal prompt: Preparing a meal containing pumpkin or apples.

🍂 the picture prompt:

[buzzcutlip]

I’m not sure about Kinktober or NaNoWriMo (for myself!)but what about The Bear writing exchange/challenge/bingo?

[raekensluver]

ᴍʏ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʙᴏʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ — ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅsᴏɴ (ᴍɪᴋ�� ғᴀɪsᴛ)

[incorrectskyrimquotes]

I always double check the golden claw. you know, just in case it's changed in the last 13 years.

[ursachaotic]

Drawing Bill Cipher every day for the Book of Bill! 💛

[jesuistrestriste]

i just think he’s neat .

[bunnithechubs]

Episode 9- Hot and Cold Pt 1

The first date up with Blaze and boy did homeboy mess it up terribly. Out of no where Blaze started being mean to Penny for absolute no reason. Then Penny and him started being mean to one another to the point he had negative romance with her :/ Despite the date being awkward Blaze offered a white flag and they spent the rest of the date stargazing. Which meant they were able to salvage a bit of their romantic relationship. On the other hand, Penny had been so antsy to go on her solo date with Zaddy Darius. Our girl is so DOWN BAD for him. She was flirting with him and feeding him all dinner. They learned a lot about one another like, Darius now understands where Penny's rage/jealousy comes from (she told him about cain/vinny) and she learned a bit about his late wife. Maybe it was the champagne or her horniness but Penny invited Darius into her bedroom and in the middle of the nasty she confessed that she liked him a lot.... she's now so embarrassed and honestly, same girl. @aniraklova @rasoyas

Anywaaaaaays, tomorrow's part will be the second elimination!

[springtyme]

Hi sage <3 can we get more luca? pistachio kisses was so perfect, I would love more like it.

thank you, thank you, thank youuu <3

𝐀 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 ♡

Chef Luca x reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify

summary: Some moments can feel so simple, yet so fundamental at the same time. This morning with Luca is one of those moments.

word count: 1.7k

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓) 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲

You are sitting on the kitchen counter, legs gently swinging as you watch Luca by the sink, his back facing you, humming softly to himself as he washes his hands. The sunlight streams in through the window, casting a warm glow around the room. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans fills the air, while the cosy bubbling of the coffee brewing in the coffee maker mixes with the sound of Luca’s quiet humming.  

The warmth of the morning envelops you, and your body sways gently as you sit, taking in the comforting ambiance, and you can’t help but smile at the simple, serene moment unfolding before you. You admire Luca’s easy movements, the way the water cascades over his hands, glistening in the light. The golden light from the window plays off his hair, and the warm tones of the kitchen seem to wrap around him like a comforting embrace.

As he finishes washing his hands, he glances over his shoulder and catches your gaze, a smile breaking across his face that lights up the room even more than the sunlight. “What has you smiling like that?” he says, his voice warm and melodic.

You widen your smile in return, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest. “You,” you reply, your voice soft and light, swinging your legs a little more, the rhythm of the moment making everything feel easy and carefree.

Luca wipes his hands on a towel, stepping over to you to lean against the counter beside you. He leans in slightly, just close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating toward you. His presence is grounding, a blend of comfort and familiarity. He tilts his head, consideration evident in his eyes. “Me?”

“Mm, you,” you affirm, nodding your head as you give him your sweetest smile, tilting your head so that your eyes align. 

He chuckles softly, a sound that feels like a gentle melody in the calmness of the kitchen. “What about me?” His eyes sparkle with curiosity, the playful edge in his voice making your heart race a little faster. 

You shrug playfully, your smile widening. “Just… the way you are,” you say, your voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone. “It’s nice watching you be you. It makes me happy… And the fact that you’re cooking me breakfast just makes it even better.”

He laughs softly, the sound a gentle melody that blends seamlessly with the ambience of the kitchen. “Well, it won’t be done in a while.”

You swing your legs a little more, revelling in the easy banter. “That’s okay. I’m perfectly content just watching you for now,” you reply, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, I might be convinced to lend a hand if you let me stir the eggs or flip some pancakes.”

Luca raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “Oh really? You think you could handle that? Last time you tried to flip a pancake, it ended up on the floor.”

“Excuse me! That was only one time!” you giggle, feigning offence. “And you have to admit, I handled the cleanup like a pro.”

“True, true,” he concedes, stepping closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, enveloping you in warmth. “You definitely have your moments of glory,” he adds, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

“Oh, yeah?” You lean in slightly, lifting your hand and placing it on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

“Mhm,” he replies, his smile softening as he leans into your touch. 

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you lean in, the distance between you narrowing until you catch his lips in a gentle kiss, soft and lingering. His lips feel warm and inviting against yours, and that soft connection sends a delightful flutter through your chest. 

You pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your hearts a little more intertwined in that single moment. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you amidst the comfortable clutter of the morning.    

Luca’s eyes linger on yours, a mixture of surprise and delight shimmering in the depths of his gaze. The corners of his mouth curve upward, and a soft blush dusts his cheeks, enhancing the golden light that envelops him. He opens his mouth like he is about to say something, but before he gets to it the sound of your stomach growling interrupts the moment, echoing through the quiet kitchen. You both burst into laughter, as it reminds you of the reason you started this whole exchange in the first place.

Luca raises an eyebrow, the laughter still lighting up his face. “I guess I should go back to cooking breakfast, huh?” he says, his playful tone still dancing between you.

“One more kiss first,” you reply with a teasing smile, leaning in closer again, your heart racing at the thought of his lips against yours once more.  

Luca chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says, feigning a sigh as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours again, this time a little more playfully, as if both of you are rediscovering that sweet spark that keeps igniting between you. 

You pull away, breathless, and give him a playful nudge with your shoulder. “Okay, okay, now you can get back to cooking,” you say, grinning.

Luca shakes his head, still smiling as he steps back toward the stove. He moves with an effortless grace, gathering ingredients from the countertop while his eyes occasionally flicker back to you, as if checking that you’re still watching. You settle back onto the counter, propping yourself up with your hands as you observe him, feeling a swell of affection that bubbles just beneath the surface. 

He opens the fridge and pulls out a fresh orange, the vibrant colour contrasting beautifully against the pale whites and browns of the kitchen. “Since you’re so good at being patient,” he says, holding it up with a playful gleam in his eyes, “how about a little something to nibble on while you wait?”

You smile, reaching out to accept the orange, but he doesn’t hand it over.

Your curiosity piqued, you watch as he expertly begins to peel the orange, his movements fluid and confident. His fingers move swiftly, deftly removing the skin in spiralling sections, the scent of citrus filling the air, mixing with the aroma of coffee and adding a fresh note to the kitchen. You can’t help but admire the way his concentration furrows his brow slightly. Each twist of the fruit reveals sections of juicy, succulent flesh beneath a bright and smooth exterior.

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” he says playfully, tossing the first few strips of peel into the sink with a satisfied flick of his wrist. “Here,” he says, holding out a perfect, juicy segment, the sun gleaming off its fresh pulp. “Just for you.”

You take the orange from his hand, feeling a burst of  gratitude at his thoughtful gesture. “Thank you,” you say softly, almost shyly as you inhale the refreshing scent of citrus. “I can’t believe that you’re peeling my oranges for me… You’re too sweet to me, you know?”

“I know that you don’t like getting the peel under your nails.” He says it like it is a well-worn secret, a tiny quirk he has memorised over time. 

You feel how warmth spreads in your chest by his words, making your heart flutter. He said it like it was so simple and so logical, and maybe it is, but to you it feels substantial, it’s like he’s holding a little piece of your heart in his hands. 

You jump down from the counter and step closer to him, feeling the urge to bridge the gap between the countertop and the stove. As you approach him, the warmth emanating from the stove intertwines with the warmth in your chest. You watch as he prepares the rest of the orange on a plate for you, pulling off those little white strings of pith.  

You feel a wave of adoration wash over you. You can’t resist reaching out, lightly brushing your fingers against his arm, a silent thank-you for all the little things he does.

Luca glances over at you, his eyes sparkling as he meets your gaze. The atmosphere feels electric, the air thick with an unspoken connection that pulls you closer. 

“Come here,” you say softly, stepping even closer, feeling a mixture of excitement and warmth radiating between you. It feels natural to inch forward, the magnetic pull urging you to close the distance.

“Where to?” he teases, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you, completely at ease. His casual demeanour only makes you want him closer.

“Just… closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a tone that somehow carries the weight of all your feelings. The space between you flickers with an undeniable chemistry, a warmth that’s almost palpable.

With a soft, breathy chuckle, Luca takes a step toward you, the light from the window spilling over him like a golden blanket. He places the plate of orange on the counter beside him before leaning in, resting his hands on the edge, effectively locking you in his gentle gaze.

“You mean like this?” He leans slightly, his face just inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours—warm, sweet, and filled with the comfort of those playful moments you share.

“Exactly like that,” you reply, feeling a giddy thrill at the proximity as you lean in to plant another soft kiss on his lips, feeling the warmth radiate between you. It’s that familiar tingle, the way everything feels vibrant and alive when you’re near him.

Luca pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softening. “What was that for?” His voice is low and earnest, wrapping around you like the sun’s rays streaming through the window.

You smile, your heart fluttering at the warmth in his gaze. “Just because,” you reply, letting the simple sentiment linger in the air between you. “Because I can, and because you are you.”

Luca’s cheeks flush slightly, and you can see the delight dancing in his eyes. He tilts his head, contemplating your words as if they’re the sweetest secret you’ve shared. “Well, I must say, I’m quite fond of your reasons…”

[thegorgonist]

Day 20 of my October Beetle Fairy prompts is the Common Tuft-Bearing Longhorn Beetle, and this is one of my fave so far! They're so cute (and orange, my fave color)

[garlicisgodsbestinvention]

perfect dimensions

(Carmy x Designer!Reader)

Summary: The Bear is weeks from opening, and Sugar hires an interior designer to bring the vision to life. Part 1/3.

Warnings: cursing, WILL contain smut later 👀NO use of Y/N because this is the 21st century. Carmy x female!reader, reader is described as having longer hair but that’s it for physical descriptions. NOT EDITED because I’m lazy girl tehe

—————————MINORS DNI——————————

“I hired a designer,” Natalie tells them in passing on Thursday, waving a vague hand when both Syd and Carmy open their mouthes to ask, “She’ll be here in like, twenty minutes.”

“Okay, heard, but we already have a design,” Carmy says, gesturing to the wall covered in layouts.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had a degree in architecture and engineering. Those are fake dimensions, Bear; we don’t know shit about anything, so someone is going to come in and make sure that we’ve got the right fucking shade of white!” Natalie shouts before the office door slams shut, leaving Syd and Camry to stare after her with equal confusion.

“Pregnancy is making her…” Syd starts to say.

“Mean?”

“Yeah, mean. Definitely a little mean,” Sydney sighs, “She’s right though. Vibe doesn’t get us to opening night.”

And that’s how Carmen finds himself stuttering through an introduction from a now much-more-pleasant Natalie when she shows a woman through the front doors.

Carmen extends his hand to you, clearing his throat, nodding like a fucking idiot when you tell him your name.

“Yeah,” he says, “I’m uh, I’m Carmen.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth spreading into a smile that makes his heart beat a little faster. “Walk me through?”

Natalie takes the lead while Carmy and Syd hang back. One glance at the look on his partner’s face should have sent Carmy scrambling for something else to do, but he’s not fast enough to remove himself from her presence before a laugh is bubbling from between her closed lips and he’s desperately hoping his face isn’t turning red.

“Im, uh, Carmen,” Syd lowers her voice in a mocking tone.

“Fuck right off,” Carmy shakes his head at her.

“You literally forgot your name!”

“I didn’t forget my fuckin’ name—“

“Like oh my god, a pretty girl with pretty eyes appears and you forget how to talk!”

“Are you done?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t wait for Richie to meet her.”

Carmen wishes the day would never come.

Ten minutes later you appear back in the dining room, Fak following close behind with a shit-eating grin that makes Carmy wish he had never gotten out of bed this morning.

“Carmy! Did you know she likes to bake?”

“No, Fak, we’ve only just met. Would you let her do her job?” Carmen sighs, rubbing his fingers into his eyes to stop an oncoming headache. Syd snorts.

“We’ll chat more later, Neil, I promise,” you say.

“You might have just made yourself a new best friend,” Syd laughs.

Carmy looks away the moment your eyes swivel over to his, trying to disguise that he’s staring as best he can.

“So,” you say, “Natalie said you had drawings. May I see?”

Camry’s fingers itch in a weird way, but he manages a nod before striding over to his backpack to pull out the notebook while you scan the wall of swatches and inspiration photos. You nods your head a little, like you’re concocting an idea.

Carmy wants to twirl a finger through the strand of hair hanging loose out of your updo.

“So, uh, this is what I’ve come up with so far.”

He then spends the next ten minutes walking you through each of the drawings, explaining himself a little too thoroughly, and making random comments about lighting and booth fabric. You look intent the whole time, brow furrowed at the page, occasionally pointing and you don’t even have to say anything—Carmy just starts to over explain immediately following the point of your painted fingernail.

When he’s done, you nod your head slowly, the corner of your mouth twitching up. You’re wearing some sort of lipstick that reminds Carmy of the stain of touching a cherry pit.

“These are amazing,” you say finally, and Carmy feels his face heat. “I like the vibe. I love the vibe, actually. Are you a sensitive person?”

You look up at him and Carmy short-circuits.

Syd says yes, at the exact time he says no.

“Conflicting signals,” you say, “Anyone else to weigh in?”

It takes a second for him to realize that you’re making a joke, and he has to shake himself out of a stupor caused completely by the sight of your smile.

“Uh, no, no I’m good. Gimme feedback,” he says, and you reach out to flip the pages back, landing on the entry.

“Great. I’m going to tell you what we need to fix,” you say, straight to the point. “This entry is too small. Either we need to extend out into the sidewalk, or we need to push the kitchen back by at least five or six feet. The bar is going to create a bottleneck right here, and we need to inset these shelves to give you a little more working room. The lighting here needs to be sconces, and the bathroom doors need to slide to maximize space—this is too small for a swinging door.”

Carmen is fully intent on taking in every word you’re saying, but out of the corner of his eye he can’t help but see Syd’s face transform into something mildly resembling devious.

“Heard,” Carmy says, nodding his head as you looks back up. “Let’s rock.”

——————————————————————————

You become a fixture in Carmy’s life in the same way that Sydney or Richie or Nat are, appearing every time he turns the corner and whispering a hello in passing before you start barking orders to the contractors who listen to your every word. Strangely, he can relate. A week ago you told him, Carmen, please decide which side of the bar you want the ice machine on, and do it quickly so I can tell the water guy when he gets here. He’s never made a decision so fast in his life.

Even Nat had popped an eyebrow when he replied, on it, before you’d even really finished your sentence.

Usually, he’s on autopilot—walking in and straight back to the office or the kitchen and hardly ever stopping to notice what’s going on. He’s the first one in and the last one out by design, so he doesn’t even see everyone else arrive until they’re already there.

This morning, though, Carmy walks into the kitchen to see you already there, writing something out in a notebook as Natalie talks, waving her hands wildly.

“Okay, I got you,” you’re saying only glancing up when Carmy’s shoes shuffle too loudly on the floor. “Oh! Good, you’re here. I need you.“

Carmy raises his eyebrows. “Need me?”

“To look at paint swatches,” you say, ushering him into the main dining area. The words ring in his head like bells as he follows you, the scent of your perfume surrounding him as he walks through the crowd of it. You smells so good, and it reminds him of New York City somehow, the faint scent of rain.

He figures that you must have come in even earlier than he and Natalie both, because you’re dressed more casually than usual, and there’s a charm necklace dangling over your tee shirt that he tries to identify when you turn without you realizing he’s staring. He makes out a paintbrush and nothing else.

“Right, so,” you start, gesturing to the wall. There’s a beat of silence with them both staring at the three swatches on the wall, and then Carmy turns towards you.

Your words overlap.

Carmy says, “I hate them.”

At the same moment, you say, “They’re horrible, right?”

Carmy laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, not it.”

“Okay, so hear me out.” You say, leaving his side to pull something from your folder. “Pink.”

“Pink?”

“Like, oyster shell pink. Neutral enough that in the low light it’ll look pale, almost indiscernible from white. And this wall—“ you point to the back where the booths will be and shake your head. “Has to be a mural. It’ll look unfinished if it’s bare.”

Carmy nods along with everything that you say, trying to envision it. “What kind of mural?”

You tilt your head, chewing at your lip. Carmy completely short-circuits for an embarrassingly long second.

“I might have some ideas,” you say in a soft voice, crossing over to the table where you’ve set your things and pulling out a black sketchbook.

“Two artists in residence, huh?” Carmy jokes, his stomach fluttering when you smile.

“Do you draw anything other than food and restaurant interiors?” You ask.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you repeat, looking up at him. He knows that you want him to elaborate—he would never admit out loud that he spends the hours he’s not cooking trying to replicate the way your necklace hangs off of your neck and the curve of your wrist.

Occasionally he doesn’t do weird, obsessive, borderline creepy things—sometimes he sketches the buildings outside his window as the sun goes down, or tries to remember what the boat in Copenhagen looked like, or that one place he used to drink coffee at in New York.

Your eyes narrow at him just a little, like you’re trying to read all the things he’s not saying.

He dips his head, half to look at the page you’ve opened the notebook to and half to get out from under the scrutiny of your pretty eyes.

“That’s insane,” Carmy finds himself saying, looking down at the waves of color on the page. “It looks like, almost like wood? Or marble. That’s—fuck, that’s so cool.”

The page is covered in shades of brown and deep green and black, melding together into something that reminds him of tree rings or stained wood panels, muted like an old chinoiserie river painting.

“You could hire someone to change it out seasonally maybe, it’d be cool, but I think something like this would look nice with the color of the wood we picked for the tables—“

“Will you do it?” Carmy asks, fingertips tracing over the edge of the paper and coming away brushed with color—oil pastels. “Could you, I mean, I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do it like this.” He tells you, rubbing the tips of his fingers together and watching the color meld together before meeting your eye.

Your mouth is parted, eyes wide as you look at him, and he gets the urge to flick your bottom lip to see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“I,” you start to say, “Yeah. I can do it. If you want me to.”

“I do,” he says, too quickly. “Want you to. Paint it.”

Because what else would he be asking you to do? He wants to throw his entire brain into the blender on high.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll start tomorrow.”

He makes a mental note to make sure he’s there all day to peer through the windows and watch you work.

[yeschefchallenge]

Carmen can't believe that the first "The Bear" writing challenge is happening!

It is happening, and that sounds legendary, pals.

[amymbona]

HE'S SO BIG HE HAS TO BEND DOWN I'M SOBBING

[g3othermal3scapism]

love languages 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[adventureswithteddy]

While working his way down after standing on top of the mountains behind him, Teddy decided he should pause to take in his surroundings in the high country. It's a unique place to be, above the trees. He couldn't stay long, so every moment he had in the thin air had to be cherished.

[marsuro]

Huetobervember day 11

Realized I’d never done a piece for Brother Bear, which is still one of my all time favorite movies

[laiiaaa]

thinking about Carm just being tired and missing you when he comes home :(

You’re still awake and watching your show when he huffs through the door, throwing his cap and coat down to the floor—you know then that it was a rough night for him.

Offering a glance over your shoulder, you ask, “You alright, Bear?” The TV keeps droning on, but you’re more attentive to Carmen as he doesn’t offer any response.

He lugs himself around the back of the couch and falls to the cushion with a sigh. You keep an eye on him while he slouches, resting his elbows on his knees and carding a hand through his hair, and you gently rub a hand up his back.

Almost as soon as you do it, he’s shifting to lay down and rest his head in your lap. His head hurts, and his back is sore, and he thinks the long hours might be getting to him.

To soothe him, you cup one hand around his face and run your fingers through his curls. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes closed. He seems to relax into your touch.

You hum. “I’m sorry.” 

He lifts his hands to grab yours resting along his cheek, and instead brings it down to his heart, doing nothing other than hold that piece of you in his hands. “Just missed you today, ‘s all…”

He often misses your hands the most during a rush, how they untangle the knots in his back and shoulders, how they soothe the soreness in his hands and head. He likes how much softer and gentler they are, unmarred by scars and calluses like his—even though he knows by now that they’re well-loved.

 “You had a long day today, y’know? I missed you too.”

He turns to lay on his stomach and wraps his arms around your waist, hands slipping beneath your tee to feel your skin against his while your nails scratch up and down his back, lulling his headspace away from the kitchen and into bliss, a sense of serenity he only ever feels with you. “Will you come to family tomorrow?”

“Yeah," you answer without a second thought, voice tender. " ‘F course.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, but you know he’s content when he lets out a deep breath, his back rising and falling. And he lays with you as you finish the episode you were watching when he walked through the door, following behind you when you take him to bed with your fingers intertwined, falling asleep with you in his arms. You make the tough days worth it.