#also I think about this at least once a week idk what’s wrong with me to make me so passionate about stabbings and how to prevent blood loss

[peculiaritybending]

Something that always seriously pisses me off in fiction is how people deal with being stabbed, it gets to me every single time. They always pull the knife/glass/whatever the fuck it is out immediately and then act shocked when they bleed to death like oh my god what did you expect you fucking idiot. Worst thing is when they just yank it out AND DON'T APPLY PRESSURE TO OR CLEAN THE WOUND and they're magically fine like YOU WOULD BE DEAD!!! It makes me so angry. If you're fucking stabbed and the foriegn object is still left in you LEAVE IT THERE UNTIL YOU CAN SAFELY FASHION A TORNIQUE FOR IT OR PACK IT WITH A POROUS MATERIAL IF ITS AN ARTERY I CANNOT KEEP WATCHING THE SAME STUPID SHIT HAPPEN OVER AND OVER AGAIN! Even characters who are supposed to be trained assassins, military personnel, medics, doctors, organized crime people, mercenaries, police etc just don't fucking do anything and end up dying it's so infuriating.

[starbuck]

i’m the first one who’ll say that directly stating “this song is about x” flattens it by removing its ambiguity and opportunity for subjective interpretations that make it poetic, so i’m not gonna say exactly what i think, but i WILL say that it was extremely funny for me to see someone say that they were mystified by Chinese House Flowers of all songs when, to me anyway, it’s one of the most straightforward songs on Full Force Galesburg meaning-wise, but 🤷🤷🤷🤷 that’s just my opinion!

[louvbite]

i mean I’m fucked either way but which one is the mature option to go about it

[astonmartinii]

i love him, it's ruining my life [guilty as sin part one] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

a contract ends, a relationship is exposed and even with everything on the line, she still loves him.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 621,099 others

yourusername: out and about town

view all comments

user1: girl? girl? GIRL?

user2: carlos' career is DEAD AND SHE'S POSTING VACATION PICS ON INSTAGRAM

user3: at least they're cute instagram pics

landonorris: y/n i think it's time you finally take that phone off of do not disturb

yourusername: but that's the perpetual state of my phone i am a poet i was born to be in the woods, if you have news tell me now before i close this app in 20 seconds

landonorris: i don't want to air your brother's business out in a public instagram comments literally just scroll through your timeline idiot

yourusername: wait let me open the family group chat

yourusername: WHAT

user4: are we about to see her reaction to carlos losing his seat in real time?

user5: let me grab my popcorn one sec

yourusername: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?

landonorris: take your phone off DND for once in your life and maybe you’d be clued in on the news

charles_leclerc: and while you’re at it reply to all the tiktoks i sent you

landonorris: not the time leclerc

charles_leclerc: but but but my tiktoks… i finally got a tarot card reading that resonates

landonorris: NOT THE TIME

charles_leclerc: don’t hate the player hate the game

carlossainz55: really?

charles_leclerc: i am TALKING ABOUT TIKTOKS LEAVE ME ALONE

yourusername: this is a lot - gosh can’t a girl go on holiday without everything imploding (i'll check the tiktoks in a second)

user6: anyone kinda weirded out that charles is just here joking with y/n as if his teammate and her brother hasn’t just been forced out of a job?

liked by carlossainz55

user7: babe he wasn’t forced out of a job, his contract wasn’t renewed. the last time i checked this was a sport where they compete not sit around and sit kumbaya

liked by charles_leclerc

user8: oh! they’re both liking shady comments already, it’s been a day since the announcement

user9: this is gonna get ugly isn’t it?

user10: awful, truly. i’m sat.

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,029,458 others

carlossainz55: love all, trust a few and do wrong to none

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user11: .... right, what ever the fuck that means?

user12: i mean i was just here to celebrate the win what is all this poetry

user11: are we shading charles? lewis? ferrari?

yourusername: shakespeare, really?

carlossainz55: i can read you know

yourusername: oh really, that's news to me

user13: erm you guys i thought the whole job loss thing was meant to bring the family together....

user14: they joke like this all the time this is just sibling banter

user15: idk it's reading a lil more tense than usual, not that there's any reason for that (that we know of)

charles_leclerc: doing the tifosi proud ❤️

carlossainz55: will do while i can

user16: yall .... what happened to the chemistry

user17: they were never friends - pierre tried to tell yall

landonorris: a carlando podium !!! lets do this every week

carlossainz55: golf buddies and podium buddies - you love to see it

landonorris: LETS GO WILD AND PUT IT ON FERRARIS TAB THEY OWE YOU

landonorris: i mean let's celebrate your triumph good pal!

user18: the PR monster got lando :( rip

carlossainz55: just being able to win in front of the most important people in my life is enough

user19: does anyone else think it was weird that y/n wasn't at the race?

user20: like y/n loves australia she litr says that she was an aussie in a past life...

user21: also the most recent carlos comment... is y/n not one of the most important people in his life?

user22: do we think something has happened? like maybe he thought she should've cut her holiday short to come home to support him?

user23: also the fact that her and charles were immediately like joking around with each other? maybe it just rubbed him the wrong way

user24: but not even considering her an important person to him? and also that just seems like he's shifting all the blame to charles when it's ferrari who haven't extended the contract

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 892,309 others

tagged: kellypiquet & yourusername

maxverstappen1: she says she's a professional third wheel, i call that being a LEECH

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user29: unlikely trio but somehow my favourite

user30: y/n really be their overgrown child

yourusername: how am i the leech when i paid for the ice cream mr millionaire 🤨

maxverstappen1: ever thought about how i want to spend quality time with my girlfriend?

yourusername: won't someone think of the children

maxverstappen1: ur 23

yourusername: that's it! p and i are unionising against this if you find suspiciously well drawn crayon graffiti on your walls it was NOT me

maxverstappen1: don't threaten my walls if you still want to come to races

yourusername: low blow 😩

user31: does that mean... she's not going to races with carlos?

user32: she's always been in his garage tho like even with how close her and max have always been SHE'S ALWAYS IN GARAGE 55

user33: i feel like this has something to do with the whole seat situation i'm not sure how but like i think there's something weird going on here

kellypiquet: don't worry @yourusername it might be max's house but it's p that has the final say

yourusername: no one gets bluey like i do

maxverstappen1: yeah but while you're here you get the best seat at the tea party IT'S NOT FAIR

yourusername: well one of us can name all the disney princesses and one of us can't

user34: so.... y/n is living with max? but i thought her and carlos shared an apartment in madrid?

user35: guys i'm so confused

user36: we need the twitter detectives on this asap

charles_leclerc: no lec... when i specifically sent you a PR bundle, you hate to see it

maxverstappen1: you only sent that to us for y/n

charles_leclerc: maybe! but i have it on good authority that you loved the vanilla

maxverstappen1: ummmmmmm no i'm a professional athlete, y/n ate all of it

yourusernames: FALSEHOODS

charles_leclerc: i know who i believe

maxverstappen1: why is everyone ganging up on me in this comment section

user37: charles sending lec to max's house just for y/n WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN

user38: and does it have anything to do with carlos maybe kicking her out

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 673,892 others

yourusername: gotta make sure i give p a reason to tell me stick around

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user39: charles is always in the likes before me and i have notifications on

user40: they seem like such close friends it's so annoying that they're never spotted together at a race and we have no pictures of them :(

charles_leclerc: why do i never get any baked goods i literally sent my ice cream to my arch rivals house just for you

yourusername: you're never in the fucking country that's why

charles_leclerc: i have this kind of demanding job i don't know if you knew

yourusername: i also have the demanding job of being sexy and i cope just fine

charles_leclerc: i heard you got employee of the year, hard to be too upset when you're the competition

yourusername: better luck next time babe

user41: openly flirting with the guy that caused her brother to lose his job, this girl is just shameless

yourusername: do you think charles is the literal ceo of ferrari?

user42: why are you defending charles more than your actual brother?

yourusername: i feel like i gotta make this statement every three buisness days on here but like you people don't know what happens in our personal lives and i can defend my friends if i feel they're being unnecessarily questioned

user43: queen snapped omg

user38: they always be out here trying her like she's not a writer and poet SHE WILL READ YOU FOR FILTH

maxverstappen1: pretty sure she'd replace you with me in like two seconds so you're safe until [redacted] gets home

yourusername: i'm pretty sure with the right campaign i could sway jimmy and sassy to my side as well

user44: who the FUCK IS REDACTED

maxverstappen1: wouldn't you like to know 🤨

yourusername: max ???

maxverstappen1: what? i didn't have friends growing up i like that you tell me secrets

yourusername: oh :(

maxverstappen1: you wanna tell me more?

yourusername: NO YOU ALREADY KNOW THE BIGGEST ONE

maxverstappen1: true 💅🏻

user45: so like the secret is defo a relationship right?

user46: do we think carlos knows?

user47: by the fact that he's not in these comments... probably not

user48: so like he looses his seat and finds out his sister is in a secret relationship? someone give the guy a break

user49: or maybe, just maybe, there's a reason that y/n hasn't told carlos and he's not the guy we all think he is

liked by charles_leclerc

user50: OH? this war is so on ....

f1teaspill

liked by user51, user52 and 31,845 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

f1teaspill: the war at ferrari is heating up... turns out there's a lot carlos didn't know and FOR YEARS. yes, you're reading that right, y/n sainz and charles leclerc have been in a relationship for at least two years and believe us we have a VERY credible source like WITHIN THE FAMILY level source.

the most important thing about this whole relationship is how carlos did not know for years, so how much more was hidden from him? did y/n know about the seat swap for lewis? was she leaking strategies to charles? was she sabotaging her own brother?

view all comments

user53: OH SHITTTTTTTTTT

user54: cancel me if you will but i think the hottest couple in f1 just dropped

user55: the fact we've been robbed of content of them for years .... i'm angry I NEED THE POETRY ABOUT CHARLES

user56: i'm gonna need y/n or charles to drop all the pics in response

user57: y'all a source "within the family"? did these fools find out about y/n's relationship and immediately run to an f1 TEA PAGE???

user58: that's some goofy ass shit

user59: i find it funny that instead of sitting down and thinking about why their daughter/sister didn't feel comfortable enough to tell you about her relationship they're like i know EXACTLY who needs to hear this

user60: the way it's proved her completely right to not tell them

user61: do you guys think this is like a tv show or like fan fiction? in what world is y/n sharing strategies to fuck over her own BROTHER?

user62: also be for fucking real... strategies? ferrari? at least try and be realistic

user63: also.... walk with me .... why would y/n and charles conspire to put lewis hamilton in carlos' seat? LEWIS FUCKING HAMILTON AND SEVEN TIME WORLD CHAMPION? WHY WOULD CHARLES WANT TO TAKE HIM ON OVER A GUY HE'S ALREADY BEATEN TWICE

user64: see this is the point! sainz camp you can try and demonise charles and yOUR OWN DAUGHTER all you want but we all know it's bull shit

user65: one thing about this that really rubs me the wrong way is that the sainz camp clearly expected that if y/n was in a relationship with charles that she would've been a double agent for carlos? and because she's not fucking insane they're now going for character assassination of their own SISTER/DAUGHTER

user66: THIS THIS THIS

user67: carlos won't even consider y/n an "important" person in his life but expect her to sacrifice or exploit her relationship for cheap psychological points

user68: also y/n isn't even at most races so how is she getting carlos' strategies to give to charles? this shit doesn't make any sense

user69: carlos himself has said in an interview that y/n is useless when it comes to racing that she's just a supportive figure rather than someone who has any in depth racing knowledge

user70: this is insane level hating with all the evidence out here... and against your own family...

user71: this just makes me think that y/n wasn't in australia for a reason - like was she banned from carlos' garage

user72: and the fact she's been staying at max's it just makes me think that y/n was kicked out of her and carlos' apartment

user73: now tHATS INSANE

espnf1

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,025,788 others

tagged: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & yourusername

espnf1: well... this could be awkward

view all comments

user77: espn babe you're just like me

user78: *slides $5 across the bar* get a camera in the ferrari garage?

espnf1: we're working on it 😩

user79: pierre and max here... they really are the paddock gossip girls

maxverstappen1: i guess carlos couldn't handle that i knew who redacted was before him 🤷🏻‍♂️

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: don't put your sister on the streets and i won't dunk these jokes on your head

user80: is this like the official f1 civil war?

carlossainz55: you don't know anything max, i'd really keep your nose out of our business

maxverstappen1: i actually know exactly how you guys move, you tried it on 17 year old me and it becomes my business when my best friend calls me with no where else to go (also i know you changed the locks while you were in maranello so she wouldn't be able to go to charles, you're not slick)

carlossainz55: i never took you as a lap dog max

yourusername: calling him the lap dog when you're the biggest bitch on the grid - bold

carlossainz55: you're burning a lot of bridges for a talentless slut who had to start fucking my teammate when we cut you off

yourusername: keep throwing your PR to the fire and see who fucking hires you, i guess we'll both be unemployed bums

user80: also imagine calling her talentless like she isn't a well established poet LOL

user81: guys this is getting so bad so quickly

user82: we got the whole rest of the season of this

user83: mad respect to max for sticking up for his bestie

user84: and her actual boyfriend isn't?

yourusername: charles will do his talking on the track like he always does. he won't debase himself with bickering in instagram comments, funnily enough ferrari don't like that - might be the reason he still has a seat and someone doesn't

carlossainz55: or he's a pussy who has his woman talk for him

yourusername: at least he has a woman to talk for him, he doesn't behind his dad at any sign of trouble. i've always known i didn't matter to dad the moment i wasn't a boy but i'm not afraid of him or you and i know exactly how you work. good luck

user85: do they know we can all read this?

user86: when i'm in an oversharing contest and the sainz siblings walk in

user87: those ferrari debriefs are gonna be AWKWARD

yourusername: especially since he doesn't have binotto to hide behind any more

user88: girl you good?

yourusername: i've never been better, this has been building for years even before charles and i got together

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 908,487 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i love you, it's ruining my life

view all comments

user89: y/n i'm gonna let you finish but we could really get the best poetry out of all of this

user90: for real like yeah i'm sorry your brother tried to make you homeless, exposed your relationship, accused you of treason and called you a talentless slut - but think of the poetry!

charles_leclerc: i love you and i hope you're okay

yourusername: i'll always be okay with you

charles_leclerc: it's out now and no one can take us away from each other

charles_leclerc: i'd actually love to see them try

yourusername: i'd go through this fortnight of hell over and over again if it meant i'd still keep you

charles_leclerc: i'd like to say this is the end of it but i think we're in for the long run now

yourusername: i'm prepared to go to war for you

charles_leclerc: there's no one i'd rather be on the front lines with

user91: oh brother... YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH A POET WE GET IT

charles_leclerc: * in love with

user91: oh my bad

charles_leclerc: no worries

user91: STILL GROSS BRO

liked by maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: max ???

maxverstappen1: you guys need to calm down cause i'm not good with words and kelly is gonna start scrutinising my cards and i DO NOT HAVE THE VOCABULARY FOR IT

yourusername: lol

maxverstappen1: lol? LOL? did our brief yet forced stint as roommates mean nothing?

yourusername: fine i'll ghostwrite your valentines cards

user92: so this is all a bit melodramatic

user93: he CHANGED THE LOCKS BRO SHE HAS THE RIGHT TO BE MELODRAMATIC

liked by charles_leclerc

user94: okay so now we're in full blown f1 civil war - who is on each side?

user95: well max and pierre are on charles' side. i'd also add in lewis, seb, oscar, esteban, george, alex, yuki and daniel

user96: so carlos has lando and fernando?

fernandoalo_oficial: it might not be blood but that's my daughter

user96: ????

user97: did he just show up to diss carlos and then refuse to elaborate?

user98: sounds like a nando thing to do .... also just leaves carlos with lando lol

user99: this feels a bit unfair

yourusername: all is fair in love and poetry

fin.

note: so as soon as i had this idea (litr TTPD release day) i have been so busy and WHACKED with the worst writer's block but i hope this is a good start and rest assured knowing the beef will only get worse... I LOVE DRAMA

note: hiii extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx

taglist: @aadu2173 @rhythmstars @kqliie @booksandflowrs @2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119

[carmenized-onions]

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

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

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

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

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

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s snowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want the old one?”

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

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

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

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

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

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

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

“...And you want that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So where should I send flowers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Microgreens.” Says Syd. 

“Yes. Do less of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cicero.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

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

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

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

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

“You got somethin’ better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A lot high.” He corrects.

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

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

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

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

“Does he now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your options are fucked.”

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

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

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A short amount of time, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Adamu?!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

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

She sighs, “Trying to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

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

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

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crime is bad in January.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yessir.”

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

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

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds fucked.”

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

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

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

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

“Tricks?”

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

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

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

He’s the best? 

He’s the best. 

He’s the best. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d agree.”

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

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

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

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

“Come to dinner with us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 365!

1 year! One whole year of daily doodles!!

Honestly?? Idk how to feel, so much has happened since I first started this blog.

I guess I’ll just write what I’m thinking right now??

(Everything under the cut, this thing is longer than I expected)

A lot of this text probably isn’t going to make sense. I’m writing this at 1 am. If there’s any mistakes or errors that’s why. I’ll fix them in the morning maybe.

So like. This whole thing kinda started as a joke, I wasn’t intending to actually draw for a year straight lmao. Like I even used a completely different art style from my regular one that was simple, quick and intentionally dumb. Not that I’m upset by it, I’m actually quite proud of myself that I managed to stick to something for an entire year. That’s pretty unusual for me believe it or not. My original intention was to stop at maybe 20 days because I really wasn’t expecting for this blog to get as much love as it did.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so so much to everyone who has followed and supported this silly little idea I had, you guys are the biggest reason my experience has been so positive and worth it. (Sure it’s not original but I hope it’s at least been interesting!)

I’ve said this a few times now but I’ve mentioned wanting to take a break. I’ll admit that even though it’s been fun it’s still pretty tiring to keep up with this blog sometimes since some recent life events have made it so hard. After some thought, I’ve decided that I’ll likely take a break sometime in the coming months. Maybe toward day 400 or so. As of right now, things are at a lull so I’ve been okay enough mentally and physically to keep up this daily streak I think. Though this could change in an instant for whatever reason.

Overall I think my burnout has kind of gone away I think?? Or at least I’ve been reinvigorated recently after replaying a few runs of hk randomizer and steel soul. No promises it’ll stay away but I silly expect it to come in waves.

Ok but call me crazy or delusional or whatever, but my hopes are up that Silksong will release this year. (which means slowing down/not doing daily doodles yay) I genuinely believe big news is coming since I’ve been getting a lot of dreams lately about something happening with Silksong in March. Idk, I could be wrong but after doing this for a year I’m literally clinging onto anything right now lol

I’d obviously still make the occasional doodle or two when HKSS releases but not daily. This stuff is tough to keep up sometimes, I would never do daily posts like this again once it’s over

Oh yeah also I have an actual big drawing I’m still working on, expect that in sometime in the next few weeks I think!

Anyway, I can’t think of anything else to say right now so I guess that’s it for now!

Thanks so much and here’s to more doodles!

[dnpbeats]

Why I Don’t Think the Secret Project™ Is a Tour—This Time With Facts!

Let me start out by saying I do think they’ve brought up another tour enough that it will happen at some point, I just don’t think it will be this soon! (Also keep in mind Dan did imply there are two things coming up in his Tweet.) That being said, obviously I could be totally wrong. But hey, if they do announce a tour in a couple of weeks, there has to be someone that gets clowned by the announcement, and I’m happy to take the fall <3 Post under cut as it's long (1.3k words 💀)

The main reason I don’t think they’re announcing a tour is timing, but I do also have something to say about the hints they’ve been dropping and why I also don’t think it necessarily points towards a tour. So, to start, let’s look at how long they spent planning TATINOF and II. In “The Making of TABINOF,” Phil says they are releasing the book (on October 8th 2015) after working on it for a year and a half, which would be April 2014. Presumably, this is around the time they started working on TATINOF as well because they were supposed to be companions. TABINOF and TATINOF were announced together on March 26th 2015, so almost exactly a year after they started planning them. Even if you want to guess that TATINOF planning started a few months after TABINOF planning, keep in mind that they originally only planned the UK leg and planned the US tour after that. The UK leg ended November 15 2015 and they announced the US leg February 26 2016. So that’s a little over two months of them planning the US leg alone, when they already had the show itself all sorted.

With II, we know they were actively planning it for about a year. Phil follows that up to say they planned it for “the majority of this year [2018],” so let’s just call it 10-11 months. More so than that, Dan said that they realized they wanted to do a second tour “halfway through” TATINOF, which in my best guess places that decision around summer 2016. This means they seriously considered doing a second tour for ~6 months before they even started planning it. 

Now, if the new project coming up is a tour, they’ve only been working on it for 6 months max. They only brought back the gaming channel 7 months ago, and we know from the end of Dan’s bday live stream that they didn’t start working on this project until they realized how many people still liked their content: “We were so shocked about how much people care about this light entertainment, sat-in-this-chair-ass content. [...] It took us by such surprise, and now we’re like, where is this going. [...] It was supposed to be a ‘let’s just do this for a bit and see what happens.’ [...] So now we find ourselves going, well okay, this channel, this content, the people, the future of it. What else are we gonna do? 'Cause it seems like there's a thing here.” 

So it’s up to you to decide when they realized that, but I think it was probably sometime in November at the absolute earliest, and then they still needed time after that to decide what they’re going to do, and then actually plan it. (And honestly, I doubt they started actively planning anything in December during gamingmas, but you never know!! Also like I said in my original post about this, Dan was still doing WAD stuff up until February and then some book promo stuff after that, so he was busy with that as well.)

So, that’s all to say, I really don’t think they’ve had time to plan an entire tour. At the very least, not a world tour, but I don’t know if they’d announce a UK-only leg and plan the worldwide tour later based on what they said about choosing to plan II all at once, rather than the split up way they did with TATINOF (also keep in mind that Dan announced WAD all at once, like d&p did with II). Idk I just don’t think they’d announce a tour without having it all planned!

Okay, so, besides the random hints that they’re busy planning something, we also have Phil’s comment about saving money in his Cactus Club post. He wrote “I also just wanted to make your cactus a lil more affordable as Dan and I get busy on what is …. next… ??” Now while this seems to imply saving up for something (hence why the membership needs to be affordable), he doesn’t outright say that. Then in his Q&A vid, he answers a question about what he’s cooking that specifically asks, “Should I save my money?” And interestingly, Phil doesn’t address the money part of the question. Now maybe he just couldn’t say anything about saving money, maybe it would've been too on-the-nose. But I’m also sure plenty of other people asked that question without asking about saving, which means he chose to specifically ignore that part. To me, it seems kinda weird to outright exclude that if the project is something people will have to pay a lot of money upfront for (i.e. tour tickets), but again that’s just my opinion.

(Also just a secondary note on Phil’s answer—he actually says, “Look, I can neither confirm nor deny something might happen in the next month.” I find the phrasing he chose really interesting. He didn’t say an announcement was coming, he said something was going to happen. Dan also never explicitly said to look forward to an “announcement,” he just said they’ve been cooking and to give it a couple of weeks. Obviously this could all mean nothing and maybe it is an announcement (whether it be for a tour or something else), but I actually think whatever the project is might be getting released not just announced. But idk!)

A moment of me speculating based on vibes (that also negates the note I just made about this potentially being a release rather than an announcement): part of me thinks this project might be something/similar to something they tried to get off the ground before but then never came to fruition! This gifset by @reunitedinterlude got me thinking about projects that they didn’t get to do for various reasons (namely COVID lol). I think one of these (either one of Phil’s ideas that he’s now brought Dan onto, or something they were trying to do together from the get go) would actually make a lot of sense for what’s getting announced. It would be something that they had already started work on, so it doesn’t take as much planning as something brand new, meaning it could be announced sooner. Additionally, I just feel like they’ve been so vague about what’s coming up, but they’ve also been super excited! They seem really proud about whatever they’ve been cooking. While I obviously think they’d be excited to do another world tour, part of me just feels like they might be this excited because it’s something new that they’ve never done before. Also, if it’s some kind of game show type thing, it would make sense that Dan said the project is a “celebration” of the gaming channel. But again this is just based on vibes lol.

In conclusion, I do think we’ll get a third Dan and Phil tour, I just don’t think it’s what’s getting announced(/released?) in the coming weeks. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the next thing they announce after whatever this upcoming thing is! If you think I’m dead wrong and actually other people have planned world tours in <6 months please let me know, I’m happy to be proven wrong bc I would love another tour :)

[yournightmary]

Streamer!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, mentions of getting hurt

AN:: Another headcannons, who would’ve thought? Streamer!Ellie was literally the reason I started writing. Enjoy :)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who started streaming as a joke. Jesse was already a streamer and he constantly said she’d be good at it, so why not?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who at first had such a shitty setup. No webcam, mic barely working and her PC couldn’t handle minecraft with shaders.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who randomly went from 30 viewers average to almost 10k one day. Just blew up overnight.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets canceled at least once a week. She just says dumb shit without thinking and has to apologize after. and people are just fucking weird.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who lives off of snacks and won’t eat a proper meal if you don’t cook anything. She’s just always on that grind😎🔥

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who’s entire personality on camera is just a character. Screams and throws herself off of her chair on camera but goes non verbal every time she’s in private.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who mostly streams games, especially minecraft & fortnite. She might make an irl stream once in a blue moon, but don’t expect it to be good.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who loves her community and wants to talk to them more often but always ends up swearing and arguing with random people in chat.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets copyright strikes and warnings from twitch admins almost every stream. Most of the times she doesn’t even know what she did wrong.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who keeps your relationship a secret. She’s scared you’d get a ton of hate. (You would) ((Streamer fanbases are awful))

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who buys the most random things she can ‚for the lulz’. Whether it’s for her streaming room or bedsheets, she’s buying the weirdest option. (This made me think of her)



⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who is definitely a hey mamas girl.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who majorly fucked up and showed her personal instagram account (with your pictures) by accident. Her following went up by 10k almost instantly and she ended up deleting it:/

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who after that mistake took a hiatus for almost 3 weeks. I mean- logged out of every account she had and didn’t check any socials for that time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who came back to streaming thinking she’d get all the hate in the world but people were just joking that ‚she’s too much of a loser to have a pretty girlfriend’.

they were also surprised she was lesbian. She never talked about her private life on stream, not even once.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ In my mind she’s the female version of 2019/2020 Quackity. Is he still relevant? idk

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who jokes about selling feet pics and bath water a little too often for your liking.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who once did a handstand for a 100 bucks. Ended up breaking her arm in two places and she couldn’t play games for almost two months.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who gets hurt on stream so often she got flagged for self harm. Apologized on twitter though:)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who definitely thinks loud=funny.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who finds out she’s in some kind of drama every single time she opens twitter. It’s always for something stupid too, like saying she’d win in a fight against some random streamer and their fanbase gets pissed.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who feels bad about having nice things so she just buys you a ton of gifts. Gotta spend that streamer money somehow🤑

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who showed you on stream once and the chat went crazy. People made edits of the 10 seconds you were on screen. Ellie watched all of them.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams cutting her hair every few months. She says ‚she’s cooking’ while chat drags her through mud.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ streamer!Ellie who streams so much she started saying ‚chat’ in real life, even when she’s alone. Always gets embarrassed about it and apologizes.

Can you tell I was a dsmp kid during quarantine?

[ln4swiftie]

Black and (Fluro) Yellow

🕷️ln4 x reader

🕷️ lando if he was spider-man

🕷️warnings: panic attack, kinda angst idk notes: hill the fluro suit had me thinking and this

🕷️ a/n: this is barely edited and kinda bad but enjoy!! <33 also im trying to write more so gimme ideas

The final bell rang through your ears as the school day ended and the bustle of the weekend was underway. You packed up your books, waving a polite goodbye to your teacher and made your way to your locker. You felt a pinch in your side and you swung your head to find your boyfriend, Lando looking at you with a goofy smile. “Hey where did you come from!?” you smile up at him while you continue to empty your belongings into their home for the weekend. “Calculus, i swear if i have to listen to that man talk about quadratics for another minute i'm going to lose more brain cells than gain.” he complains. “Well at least now we get to go and do nothing.” you say as you wrap your arms around his waist and place your chin on his chest. “About that..” he sighs and you know what's coming.

He's been blowing you off for weeks. It started with little things such as not saying goodbye before leaving school or not seeing each other between class periods. But now he's been completely ditching you. He refuses to tell you why and you’re starting to worry if you’ve done something wrong. You deflate as you prepare to ask him what the excuse this time is when your phone chimes in your pocket. “Oh it's laur..” you click the link your friend sent, you gasp “what the fuck”. Lando looks at you puzzled as you flip your phone around to show him.

It's a video of the new vigilante known as “spiderman” beating a man to a pulp in some alleyway, throwing punch after punch until the man was on the ground bloody and bruised. Once the beating was done Spiderman is shown swinging away before the video cuts off. “Did he just kill that guy-” “No. he didn't.” Lando cuts you off quickly. The slightest clench in his jaw and tense in his shoulders did not go unnoticed. “Well how can you know for sure…he was hitting him pretty hard.” you counter. “You can see the guy moving before he swings away.” he says firmly, as if he knew this as a fact. Spiderman showed up about a month ago, earlier sightings of him have consisted of him helping cats down from trees and escorting the elderly across the road. The public had grown to love him and his friendly neighborhood activities. But recently, he's been violent and the city has been working to catch him. Unfortunately with the identity of the spider being unknown, the police have come back empty handed. Lando gently takes your hands into his as he changes the topic “Look, I'm sorry but Max wants me to help him with his physics homework and he's got a test tomorrow. So I will see you tomorrow okay?” he says softly. He can see the hurt in your eyes as you give him a slight nod and a quick kiss before walking off towards the bus station.

Lando hates how he's been treating you these past weeks. Blowing you off for shitty excuses that he knows are shitty but he can't stomach telling you the true reason why. He's watching you walk off as he feels his best friend clap him on the back of his neck “you ready for tonight boss?” Max says in his ear. He notices Lando's stare and follows his eyes to where they've been trained to follow. “No lando we cant think like this” shaking his head. “You'll see her tomorrow.” he firmly reassures his friend who's beginning to question the late night activities he's been doing for the past month. “I'm not sure about that max..” he sighs “i cant keep watching her deflate everytime i cancel on her” he says quietly. “You could just tell her-” “NO.” Lando shouts, shooting his head towards max. Telling you would be like pouring sea salt into an open wound. Lando would rather give up everything, than tell you the truth about where he is at night. “Okay okay! Don't tell her, but either way..you're going out tonight.” Max says, putting his hands up in surrender as he begins to walk towards the student parking lot to his car. He turns around towards Lando who's still stood next to your locker staring in the direction you walked off in. “you coming or what?” After a beat of contemplation, with a heavy sigh, Lando makes his way to Max's car.

-----------------------------------------

You were sat on your bed, doing homework on your ipad. You Glanced at the time, double taking the clock sat on your nightstand when you see the number it read. Holy shit. you’ve been here since you got home at 4pm…it was now 6:30 pm. You jump off your bed and quickly check your phone, expecting a million texts and calls from Lando wondering what you're doing and complaining about Max's inability to understand the basics of physics.

Nothing. Not a single text.

You feel your heart drop. He hasn't texted you in 5 hours when he asked you to meet before you left school for the week. The tears prick your eyes as you check your other notifications seeing nothing from your boyfriend. Could he be cheating? No. he would never do that to you. But would he?

Your thoughts race through your mind as the panic begins to set into your chest causing your breathing to become uneven. Your vision starts to swim and your phone falls to the floor, your arms going numb. You hear your mom call your name for dinner but the noise goes in your left ear and immediately out the right. As if you have been submerged underwater. You feel your legs give out and you land ass first at the foot of your bed.

The loud thud heard from the kitchen causes your mom to shout for you again to pulse check.. When nothing was heard back she rushed upstairs to the source of the noise. When she finds you in hysterics she's in front of you instantly, cupping your face to wipe the tears. She helps you steady your breathing and bring you back down from your panic attack. “What's got you so worked up sweetheart?” she softly asks and she moves to your side. You explain everything that's been going on with Lando recently. She thinks for a moment before she speaks up “how about, we get some food in you. Then I drop you off at his place and you two can talk this out.” she offers. You give her a small smile, nodding as the two of you get up and make your way downstairs to eat dinner.

-----

You stare at the apartment door marked with the 4 before you bring your hand up to knock. The door opens revealing landos Mom, Cisca. “Oh hi honey what brings you here?” she asks, letting you inside the apartment. “I was hoping Lan was home.” She gives you a sympathetic smile, shaking her head. “No not yet, but he should be soon. How about you go wait in his room for him and I'll bring you a cup of tea.” you nod weakly and wander towards Landos room as Cisca moves to the kitchen. You leave the door ajar and lie on the bottom bunk of his bed, eyes darting around the room, flashing memories of the past 2 years that have been written in the walls. You turn your body towards the wall snuggling into the comfort of Landos smell embedded into the sheets you’ve spent countless hours in. your eyes start to feel heavy as sleep takes over your body. deciding a small nap while you wait couldn't hurt, you let your mind drift off.

-----

You’re woken by the sound of the window opening. finding that you're still alone in lando’s bed you sit up hoping it's him just opening up the window. You look over to find the window open, yet no one next to it. You think nothing of it due to the wind and sit up to reach for the cup of tea Cisca left you on the nightstand while you slept. You sip your tea sat on the bunk as your eye catches a figure on the ceiling. Yes, the ceiling. You see that black and fluorescent yellow suit you’ve seen all over social media for the last month crawling around on the ceiling of your boyfriend's bedroom. What the fuck is spiderman doing in Landos bedroom?! You thought to yourself as the man gently lowered himself onto the floor and reached for his mask, removing it.

And that's when you saw him.

Those curls you run your fingers through whenever you get the chance to. Those curls you help tame when he takes his hat off after a long day. Those curls you love with your whole heart. Those curls which belonged to the boy you loved who was currently standing with his back to you, wearing spidermans suit.

You gasp, causing lando to look up and freeze. He doesnt turn around to face you, he knows who he's going to see. He knows it's over. The moment he's been dreading since that spider bit him that night. He's going to have to explain his past month and a half to the one person he didn't want knowing about this. The one girl he wanted to keep protected from this new hobby he's got himself tangled up in. and yet here he was frozen, staring at the picture frame sitting on his dresser.

The picture of him and you from the first time you went to the London eye. The picture is you two at the top with Landos hands around your waist and your arms swung around his neck. Your faces are squished together wearing the brightest smiles on your faces. Looking back, Lando wishes he could stay in that moment forever, frozen in time. But he knows that can't happen.

He slowly turns around to face you and look you in the eyes. Your lips slightly parted due to shock and hair slightly messed up from your nap. The mug slips through your fingers and falls to the floor shattering and spilling the lukewarm tea. “Shit” Lando whispers as he springs to action, grabbing the towel from the back of his door to soak up the tea, he looks up to you “are you okay? No cuts?” you're frozen, unable to speak, staring at him in that suit. All you can do is nod at him while he gently picks up your feet, placing them loosely on his bed while he cleans up the broken mug. You pick at your fingernails anxiously while you wait for him to finish cleaning.

After a few minutes he sits down next to you, freshly changed into a hoodie and sweatpants. Your eyes are trained on your lap where your hands sit pulling on the thread of the hoodie that you’re wearing. After what feels like hours of silence you’ve had enough “why didn't you tell me?.” you demand, you want answers. You want to know how your boyfriend and who you considered to be the love of your life became the person who you see brutally abusing people in alleyways. He turns to look at you, eyes full of regret. He opens his mouth to answer you but you cut him off, cupping his face. “fuck what happened?!” you stand up looking for a first aid kit when lando stands up to stop you, grabbing your hands “baby, baby stop it's okay max already helped me clean it and it’ll heal by the mornin-” “MAX KNOWS??!??!” you shout a little too loud for lando’s liking. He puts his hand over your mouth, shushing you so you don't wake his mother. “yes max knows because he was with me when it happened” he explained calmly, hoping his emotions will radiate onto you.

He slowly releases your mouth and you sit back down “are you gonna let me explain to you how this happened now?” he raises an eyebrow waiting for your answer. You give him a nod to continue and he takes a deep breath.

He began to explain how one night walking home from your house with max a radioactive spider bit him. He explains how Zac Brown, one of the richest men in the country, approached him and helped him understand his powers and the new responsibilities that come with them. He even was the person to make Landos suit for him.

“I'm really sorry that I’ve been a shit boyfriend recently, i never wanted you to get caught in this” he says, playing with your hands. You can't help but giggle “Here I was thinking you were cheating on me yet you were out fighting crime.” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting it against your own “never in a million years my love” he says. “How about we get some sleep?” He smiles, squeezing your hands intertwined with his. Agreeing that this conversion should happen with a good night's rest. The two of you move to lie down in Landos bed cuddled against one another. Your head rests on Lando’s chest with his arms wrapped around you like you'd disappear the second he let go. As sleep beings to take over you hear a faint “i love you” coming from the boy beside you. You look up to see him already meeting your eyes “i love you too” you smile, kissing his chest before falling asleep with him safe and sound.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for not getting my roommate a birthday gift and insulting them when they got mad about it?

I don’t really think I’m the asshole (or at least the only asshole) but it’s become such a Situation I need some outside input.

So I and my roommate Ollie (both 18, gender irrelevant) have been living together in a college dorm for a couple months now. We aren’t friends, but we’re friendly. We talk a little in passing but nothing more. We get along for the most part, but my main issue is that Ollie has so much stuff.

I’ve lived with it for months but it’s always a mild annoyance. There’s stuff on our bathroom counter, the kitchen counter, always dishes in the sink and their desk is always a mess. We have separate sides of the room and separate spaces for our food and dishes in the sink and for our shower stuff and bathroom stuff but it still drives me crazy because there’s always clutter around. I haven’t talked to them about it because I don’t want them to get mad at me for trying to micromanage them—I don’t know if they would’ve but now they definitely would.

Also, I think we have a pretty big gap in how much money we have. We both have a meal plan so we can eat at the cafeteria on campus but their part of the fridge is always overflowing. They have a ton of expensive and what look like kinda redundant products, like five bottles of perfume on their desk, and I even saw cotton candy grapes in the fridge?? I haven’t been to the store in a while but I don’t think those are cheap. There’s also a ton of Starbucks and takeout food in the trash too. I on the other hand have to save the money I have (a couple hundred) to put towards a summer class. Even if I wanted to get them a birthday gift, I think it would come down to that or, like, gas money to go home for a weekend

Ollie’s birthday was a little over a week ago. They spent the day out with their friends from what I could tell off social media and when they came back they had a few grocery bags and an Amazon box or two, and once they set them down they asked me what I’d gotten for them.

I asked what they were talking about, and they said for their birthday. I told them I didn’t get them anything and then they started mumbling about fake friends and how they were nothing but nice to me and I couldn’t even give them anything in return. I’m not great on social cues so they might have been joking or sarcastic here but I told them they were crazy if they thought I was gonna add to any of their piles of useless stuff around here and called them a hoarder (that may be too harsh but I mean, I saw a Wendy’s receipt from October on their desk last week. It’s February.) They got really pissed and started swearing at me and I forget most of what was said after that but it escalated, we ended up screaming, they left for the night, it was bad.

Since then their friend from high school, we’ll call her Ruby (21F I think) has been blowing up my phone. Telling me I have no right to talk to Ollie like that, that I’m a shitty friend and she ought to just block me (we aren’t friends so idk where this one came from), and told me that apparently Ollie’s mom was some kind of a reclusive hoarder and Ollie has been crying and worrying about becoming like her. I honestly don’t believe this last one because I met their mom when we moved in last September and she seemed like a completely nice person.

Ollie hasn’t been back here. I think they got their essentials while I was in class and is staying with Ruby now, she lives in a building just off campus. I reached out to make sure they were okay and, you know, alive, and they just said “don’t fucking text me I’m fine don’t worry about it.” I have pretty bad anxiety, it’s been six days and it’s still almost all I can think about. I feel like I should apologize but I’m honestly not sure if I’m in the wrong or not. So, aita?

What are these acronyms?

[kaahgyuya]

hi! i wanted to ask if you can do a Scaramouche × female reader when scara finds the reader self harming/trying to suicide. Thank youu! <3

YES YES OFCC!!!! IDK HOW LONG THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX, AND FORGIVE ME IF I HAVENT SEEN THIS FOR A WHILE.. 😭😭😭

Who knows, maybe I'll add a lil twist to the end for suspension... 😈😈 /hj

—————

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

★ SYNOPSIS : He caught you trying to do it. Who knows what his heartless mind will do?

THEMES/WARNINGS : Suicide, SH, dark topics, some of it is in first person, you've already dated someone, u r 7th fatui harbinger, anything you can think of as bad..

Everyday,

Every night,

Every week,

Every month,

Every.

Day.

Fatui meetings, missions, every minute it's so frustrating.

Every day, is just the same. Nothing changes. But the only thing changes, is my motivation.

All I just wanted was for someone to notice my hard work, at least just a single praise can bring up my hopes.

Overworked, tiring and restless days, food just tastes bitter. After I joined the fatui for personal purposes, my partner left me. They said, "I wouldn't want to date someone who'd work for the devil."

Not that I was doing it for her.

As the 7th fatui harbinger, what could ever go wrong? I mean, treated with some care by the other harbingers isn't bad at all. Columbina is the kindest one of them all, yet terrifying. Arlecchino is barely here but when she is here, she treats everyone to a meal. How could everyone have a kind heart of their own?

Dottore is very foolish despite his rank. Pulcinella takes care of Tartaglia's family which is very kind. Pierro is actually gentle despite his cold and harsh demeanor. Sandrone gave me a small doll of a flower, to always make me remember that summer will always be with me wherever I go. Pantalone once broke a valuable vase, but he fixed it on his own when he had the time. He told no one but me.

Tartaglia always checks up on the Fatui harbingers. He seem outgoing and cheerful most of the time, but when he's alone, he's so quiet and dense. Captiano is scary, but can also protect us. Scaramouche isn't here often, but hes not a trouble to bother. He sometimes comes to talk to me to rant or just come to bother my company. Signora was the closest to me. She's strict yet I sometimes catch her playing with the children at the House of Hearth. Ever since her death, I felt... quite lonely. But I've accepted it.

How can everyone be so busy and kind of their own?

And I'm just a rotting body.

I envy them.

"Comrade! What are you doing just wasting time away like this?" You turned your head immediately to the familiar voice, to see a ginger colored head with a beaming smile, but void like eyes.

"Oh, um.. I'm.." You looked back at the table to see a desk full of unfinished and uninteresting papers. You game to the main hall to work on paperwork. Only to realize you've zoned out and gotten no progress.

"Let me help you." He immediately scooped up a pile of papers, some of them fell but he lifted his foot to catch one drifting to the ground.

"How long have you been here? You okay, Comrade?" Childe gave you a friendly smile, the dim moonlight coming from the large windows only casted a small glimmer in his eyes.

"I uh... I don't—"

"Don't worry about it! I'll come back to you once I've finished, but you owe me a meal!" Childe left as he threw the paper on his foot back into his tall pile of papers and walked off.

"W-wait! Tartaglia!—" You stood up from your seat to turn around and stop him. To only be met with an empty and dark hallway, only being lit by the moonlight from the windows.

"I..." nothing but mutters came out of your mouth.

"How can I be so pathetic?" A quiet voice came from you. Only to sit back in your seat to see no papers. Columbina was suddenly there. It was normal for her to appear out of thin air around the Zapolyarny Palace.

"It seemed like you had some trouble, I'll do the rest of the papers." She was holding all of the papers somehow, and you felt nothing but guilty.

"You really don't. It's my work.." you muttered slowly.

"Fatui harbingers may work independently, but some cases, we're all family." She replied. She didn't open her eyes once, but that's just how she sees..

"I'll—"

"You don't have to pay me back, otherwise people will have other useless debts to pay." She turned around and vanished. Not to be seen in or within the wind.

"I just.." All of the 8 years of working and working up and up to only end in this rank feels terrible.

Am I really that useless?

"Y/n." A quiet but loud voice came behind them.

You jumped a little from the sudden small shout, but you looked behind you to see a mysterious figure with a big hat.

"Ah, um. Scaramouche." You quietly said.

"Is my name really that hard to forget?" Scaramouche clicked his tongue then approached you. His figure slightly got taller as he approached.

"I'm sorry."

"Anyway, what're you doing? Shouldn't a mortal like you be in the dormitories?" Scaramouche looked down at you if you were a bug. Even though you were only one rank behind him..

"Oh, I forgot." You mutter. He sighed and gave a small flick to your forehead. You wouldn't really count as him as your friend, but he talks to you more than the other harbingers.

"Humans are so forgetful.." He mumbled.

"Sorry.." You blandly said.

"Stop saying sorry over everything."

"Huh?"

"When was the last time you said sorry?"

"When I... said your name."

"Is that something to be sorry for?"

"I.. um."

"Just go to your dorm. Captiano has something assigned to you tomorrow. Get rest." Scaramouche brushed past you and hushed along to his own way.

"Im.. sorry." A quiet mutter came out of you.

You walked to your dorm only thinking about that moment and past times. You remembered Tartaglia and Scaramouche came to save you in battle against a few hillichurls after you were injured. You couldn't help but cry after that night because you weren't even powerful enough, even though being the 7th fatui harbinger.

Why do I say sorry all the time? Why am I so useless? I'm just only here like a doll for showcase. Why is everything the same? Why am I so weak? Why can I even defend myself? Why...

As soon as you opened the door, you threw off your jacket and didn't even bother to switch out of your clothes. Just flopped in bed and huddled in a ball. Silent and quiet tears fell.

You've never told anyone your problems. No one.

My problems are useless. So what's the point of telling someone them?

You're now standing at a cliff no where near Zapolyarny Palace.

The cold air just felt bitter against your skin.

The pretty lights of the northern lights and stats glimmered. They lit up the whole place..

If only the last time you'll see them is today,

That's okay.

The lights are so pretty.

If only when I was a child, I would be able to jump in joy.

8 years of suffering and loss will be over soon.

I promise you,

It will end today.

I wish my tears would've been spent on something else,

But these lights are so pretty.

I wish..

That maybe someone...

Will love me just as much...

The height of the cliff wasn't scary. But it was a long way down to the cold sea.

The sea reflected the pretty skies.

"So cold.."

To only feel the pressure of wind dropping down.

Im falling.

You're falling.

"Ah!—"

a cold but sudden embrace was there.

A tight grip around your waist was found.

"You're an idiot!"

You looked behind you to see a dark indigo haired figure holding you tightly.

"Do you go so far out by killing yourself because you didn't want things to go out like this!?" He shouted at you.

"Your idiotic mind is killing me!" Scaramouche plunged back before setting himself in front of you. He drapped his jacket over your shoulders.

"Do you plan on being so stupid and killing yourself!? Do you even know how long it took me to find you only to come to you almost dying? Is death your only wish!?" Scaramouche scolded you and shouted at you. His raised voice people could possibly hear from a 5 mile radius. The rest of his shouting blurred in your ears.

But he suddenly paused in his words.

"Why are you crying?"

"Huh?"

"Stop crying." Scaramouche said. Although his voice sounded harsh, his tone was soft.

Soft little streams of rivers were coming out of your eyes, and you didn't even notice.

"I said stop crying."

"I don't..." He paused.

"Wanna see you cry."

"Again."

You just sat in the snow, buried in his large jacket staring at him.

"Wha—"

"You're coming with me." Scaramouche gripped onto your arm and pulled you up without an effort.

"Scara—"

"I said you're coming with me."

Next morning was all a blur.

You were in your bed, how?

You remembered you were outside.

You could've swore you...

Whatever,

Today, the sun was out. The sun isn't usually out during winters like these.

You went to the small kitchen in the dormitory to cook something.

You opened the knife cabinet... only to find no knifves. So you decided to skip breakfast, not that you really had breakfast anyway.

During that whole day, Scaramouche sat next to you without a word. He's usually never at meetings. And today he's always somehow near you...

Talking to Columbina? He's right behind you.

Finishing a task Tartaglia gave you? He's right there.

Hes like a stalker..

It was until a few hours later, you went to do something.. a little dangerous.

You picked up a sharp object until it was immediately grabbed away. You looked to your side to see Scaramouche standing there with the sharp object.

"You've been following me all day. What's wrong?" You immediately said.

"You're stupid."

"What?"

"You already know the answer."

"Huh?.."

"Shoo. I'm taking this away."

"But I need it to give it to captiano—"

"I'll do it." He then walked away.

For some reason,

Your mind told you that...

Maybe he didn't want you to get hurt.

You then turned around to go back,

To only see a shining cryo vision on the table from where you picked up the sharp object.

"Visions are granted by powerful wishes." You once heard someone say long long before.

I wish that someone will love me as much as someone used to in the past.

@xyouami 12/21/23 8:32 pm.

[stargazedwinchester]

Protect | Sam

A small one to get me back into writing, will be doing one for Dean also! <3

Summary: You attempt to comfort Sam from his most recent break up.

Prompt: "If she threatens you in any way you tell me, okay?" @promptsbytaurie

If anyone is interested, I have a taglist here! So if you want to be notified any time I post, pls send in a form so I can update it! Been away for a little bit so I’m gonna update it soon if anyone else has applied their interest :)

(Guys pls let me do a part 2 to this pls pls I beg)

Taglist: @girlsforpjm @rowenalovee @amythedoctor

Word count: 1,069

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

The ambience in the bunker is quieter than usual. Usually there’s some weird genre of music playing loud enough so you can hear from 4 rooms away or someone furiously tapping away on a keyboard.

Walking down toward the lobby, it’s dead quiet. Assuming no one’s home, you take a gander at the books on the bookshelves, multiple books about monster lore and latin history, demonic possession and even some without a name. They’re worn down from the use they got from when the Men of Letters were around. Without letting either of the Winchesters know about it, you managed to sneak your own normal book collection in there. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? Sam especially would go nuts.

Picking out a light blue book with an intricate flower design running around it, the bolder, darker letters stand out in contrast. You scan the pages before taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the library. The floor lamp next to you is dim, setting the mood perfectly for a quick comforting read.

A cough breaks you out of your gaze, unknowing that anyone was even inside. You peer round the corner and notice a huge man with long, unruly hair. His head sits in the palm of his hand, his long legs spread out underneath the table.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper to yourself and make yourself known. “Sam?”

He grumbles, barely turning his body around to acknowledge you. “Yeah?” He clears his throat, his voice croaky and weak. You pad your way over to him and stand above him, examining the empty whiskey bottle and a glass that has remnants. His personal phone is left unlocked, a few texts sent to someone but haven’t gone through. You skim read.

7:04AM

Can we please talk?

8:15AM

Please message me, IDK what I did wrong

17:16PM

Sam, leave me alone. I’m done talking with

you. I will block your number

18:08PM

Sorry

MSG NOT SENT. TRY AGAIN

“How are you feeling?” You question, speaking carefully as he has obviously had a few drinks. You pull out a chair and sit beside him, his head remaining in his hands. You stare at him intently, hoping for a good answer. He takes a deep breath and sighs shakily. He rubs his face and he glances at you quickly. His eyes dark, and the tip of his nose crimson. He wipes his nose and takes another swig, too quick for you to even stop him. “What do you think?” He huffs, trying to show a smile but failing. You look down at the floor, unsure of what to say. He reaches over and locks his phone, then rubs his eyes with his fingers. “I don’t know what to do,” He starts, his voice wobbling. You reach for the nape of his neck and gently caress his hair, “What did I do wrong?” He starts, tears forming in his eyes as he looks at you once more, then breaking contact. “It’s okay, Sammy. Let it out.” You say, stroking his hair as he sits back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I look so weak,” He laughs, trying to collect himself. You sigh quietly. “You’re not. If it hurts you, it hurts you. It’s normal to be sad.” You say, trying to make him feel at least a little bit better. He reaches for his glass again and you place your palm over the top of it. “I think you’ve had enough of this as well,” You slide the glass across the table away from Sam. “Listen. Things like this come and go, you’re more than capable to find someone way better than her. I understand it hurts right now but in a couple of weeks time you’ll feel so much better for relying on yourself and the people that love you than the people that don’t. You’re going to be fine, Sam. Trust me.” You give the speech like your life depends on it, but seeing your close friend so heartbroken made you feel like it’s your duty to ensure he hears exactly what he needs to hear. He looks at you with shining eyes, the red in them makes the hazel pop more than usual. His nose still red and cheeks flushed, his usually neat hair is tussled. “I just loved her so much,” He sighs, straightening himself out. “But she wasn’t for me. We were so different.” He explains, his eyes scanning your face. “How so?” You ask, trying not to intrude.

“Well, I’d want to go places with her to eat, drink, whatever and she’d hate it. She’d never want to spend time with me or show me off. I guess she just wanted to use me, I think that’s the thing that hurts the most,” He admits, shedding new light on his now past relationship with this woman… something that felt like rage and sadness for him built up inside of your chest, and he carries on. “When things wouldn’t go her way, she’d get angry with me. So angry,” He pauses, “She’d threaten things but never actually go through with it, thankfully. I could never say anything because I was scared of her reaction or if she’d leave me for standing up for myself.” He finishes, a tear falling down his cheek and nothing stops you from wiping it away. Keeping your hand gently on his face, you stare into his eyes as he does yours.

“If she threatens you in any way you tell me, okay?” You say, keeping your tone calm and collected, but Sam smirks at the fire that glows within yourself, a passion for protecting the ones you love, or maybe it’s more than that.

“Okay. I will.” He smiles for the first time since this whole interaction started. You slowly start to stand up, shuffling yourself out of the chair. You remove your hand from Sams’ face, but then he unexpectedly takes your hand as you try to turn away, pulling you back. You look at him with concern, and his helpless gaze stares up at you. “Thank you, Y/N.” He says, pursing his lips. “Honestly, it’s what I needed. So, thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you, Winchester.” You say, quickly grooming his hair so its somewhat neater. Glancing into his eyes one last time, he shows you a fragile smile.

A delicate smile is still a smile.

[codacheetah]

AGREE WITH YOUR PREVIOUS POST. I like mean Loop as a facade only, but we know they still care and love...

Now I have a question, what's your favorite Loop takes/headcanon

Oh my god I'm so sorry I took like two weeks to answer this one I prommy it's not bc I'm exclusively a hater or whatever. I just straight up forgot to answer Oopsie. I'm putting this under cut bc it got long enough that you all would shoot arrows at me for putting it on your dash

Anyways there's a lot of Loop Thangs I like frankly. A big one that I enjoy is when fic authors in postcanon make the transition of Loop into the party structure kind of rocky. Usually bc Loop's neuroses creating a level 12 psychic barrier between them and the party + the inherent awkwardness of meeting somebody who's apparently super close in a way (that you'll never fully understand) to one of your friends. Who let's be real I feel like half the party (coughIsabeauandMirabelle) would catch the aura of "oh they do not like us at all" from Loop. I want Loop to be happy and with their family but you just know this bitch is going to make it as difficult for themself on purpose. The Siffrin Special.

I also just generally like when they keep Loop as a star postcanon. I'm not at all a hater towards Human Loop (in fact I think it can be itself an interesting setup for a Loop fic) but I do like Loop as a star more thematically. Something about having to accept that things have changed and moving on from it regardless. Also bc Loop being dysphoric about their body scratches a very transgender projection itch in my brain Yessss little star you're stuck in a body that draws unwanted attention and which you have no control over how it looks and functions in a way that feels fundamentally wrong to you. (Pointing at canonically transgender character) Yooooo this guy is such a cool trans allegory omg

Hmm what else. This is more of a sloops thing but I always enjoy in fics when they lean into the fact it's selfcest frankly. I've become a selfcest enjoyer bc of this ship I'll never get over that act 5 dialogue abt the cautionary tale where Siffrin says he never understood the moral of the story bc the idea of having somebody just like him who understands him. Oh my gyoooooooooooooooood. I want them to melt into sludge I'm always thinking of that analogy from superflyghtheart on discord comparing Loop and Siffrin to endlings of an endangered species. 💥💥💥It's like. This is less sloopy now but I'm caught between the intersection in my head of "Loop would probably benefit from developing their own identity as a person separate from Siffrin bc they need Something they have control over" and "Loop is of the Siffrin Species and they are significantly too sentimental to let go of the shreds of what they used to have, especially after having lost all of it once already". Both of these things are yummy as fuck when ppl smarter than me explore them and they're kinda the main Story Paths for postcanon Loop anyways so I'm always winning. So like idk tldr I like it both when ppl have Loop diverge a lot as a person and when they have Loop try their best to stay as much of a Siffrin as possible!

I'm limiting myself to four paragraphs so you don't all want to hit me with hammers but I do have Loop Biology Headcanons. I've explained mythoughts on their guts before and don't feel like recounting them but whatever True #codacheetahwarriors remember my deranged rambling. ANYWAYS I kind of mentally run on the assumption of Loop's body as like. The Universe couldn't keep Loop in Siffrin's body, bc they needed Siffrin to be in it (and I guess a system situation introduces too many factors of its own? idk). The Universe operates with the goal of fulfilling wishes with the least intervention possible, so The Universe makes a body out of cheap inorganic material (star-scrap basically). Miniature star for a head fueling the body with Craft energy (I'm not going to get into my conspiracy that all Craft is the same here). Molds the star scrap into a vaguely Siffrin-shaped/sized vessel and plonks Loop's conscious into it and calls it a day. So Loop's body as a poor simulacrum of a human body is like. They're capable of breathing but they only really benefit from doing it on a psychological level. They can't eat or drink and don't have a mouth because it would require a significant level of added effort to make a digestive system, when they can just derive energy from their star. They don't have reproductive organs because they're not made from organic material anymore anyways. They don't need to sleep bc their body never gets tired but they still do it because it's not really a great idea to leave your brain on running for too long anyways.

I fucking lied I'm on paragraph five bc the block of text is annoying me. To continue that's all a preface to say I think it's super fun when Loop has body functions that are weird and unpredictable. Their little frizzles on their body are reactive to their emotions the same way their headstar is, and feel like static if you touch them. Their head has a vague boundary so their eyes have something to be rooted to but the function by which their optic nerves work is unclear to everybody including themself. They glow based on intensity of emotion and the temperature of their star changes via specific mood. Bc I think it would be fun if the battlefield in twohats when from ice cold to boiling hot frankly. Ok these are all just my headcanons (temperature one very loose though I'm not a hard subscriber to it) but they're not uniquely mine it's just examples of what I mean. One I don't have as a personal headcanon but I do enjoy is when Loop feels the same physical sensations as Siffrin bc it's funny and I like inflicting misery on the star.

I'm going to shut up now like actually . Loop for your troubles

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"are you longing, is it Killing Time?"

"if i’m honest, think i want it. no more talking, no more nonsense."

synopsis// you work at a ballet studio and suna works at the karate dojo next door.

pairing// rintaro suna x gn!reader

word count// 3.9k

contents// ooc suna? idk he's like kinda smug in this... ive never written for him before so heed my warning. slight enemies to lovers but like kinda not really. osamu's obligatory accent. plot kinda speaks for itself i have no other warnings besides the fact that this kinda (majorly) sucks...

requested// by an anon!! im SO sorry this took me so long to write!!

notes// i know i said id never write for haikyuu again but i lied ok? take it. do what you will with this. sorry if this is all over the place... i feel very out of my element writing for haikyuu again LMFAO. also if anything mentioned about karate or ballet is wrong sorry!! i took ballet ONCE and taken karate never xoxo tbh i think the plot probably wouldve worked better as an smau but im not doin all that (respectfully.) anywho this was also inspired by killing time by movements (TOOOO GOOODDDDD)

Classical music and the whispers of the kids eight-counting their steps echo throughout the room. Everything is peaceful and as it should be... That is, until the mirror walls begin to vibrate violently from the sudden blaring of music from the studio next to yours. All the kids turn to look at you, confused about what’s happening, and you flash them a small apologetic smile.

“You guys keep practicing, okay? I'm gonna go next door and ask them to turn it down.” 

Satisfied with your guidance, they nod, and you quickly walk out. Though not comfortable leaving a bunch of children unsupervised, you leave your studio door open to make sure that you’re still able to hear them from outside. You sigh before walking into the next studio; frankly, you had gotten this far without having to interact with anyone else, and you just wished it would stay that way. Neither the kids nor their instructor seem to notice your presence. And even though you clear your throat, no one hears you.

“Excuse me!” 

Suddenly all heads are turning toward you, and you reflexively dig your feet into the floor to stop yourself from running back out. Their instructor waves the kids off, having them go back to practicing whatever karate move he had just taught them before walking up to you.

"Can I help you?” he says, his eyes boring into yours.

And suddenly. Suddenly, you hate him. Or, at the very least, strongly dislike him. He blasts his music, knowing damn well the walls are thin, and then has the audacity to give you attitude?

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there all day?” He stops and briefly looks you up and down, a small smirk playing on his face. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Your jaw clenches, giving him the nicest smile you very well could muster. “Can you turn down your music? It’s distracting my kids.”

He hums and appears to consider it for a moment, and you're almost grateful—almost, because then he has to open his stupid mouth again.

“Maybe if you say please.”

Your eye twitches. "Okay, you know what? Nevermind." You glance over at his students briefly, making sure they aren't looking at the two of you, and when you confirm that they aren't, you flip him off, and all he does is laugh. You groan, and if you could slam his studio door shut without the glass shattering, you would.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To no one’s surprise, he didn't stop playing his music at full volume—he claimed it pumped the kids up, and sure, maybe it did, but all it did was distract your own. And eventually, you two somehow fell into a game of who could play whose music louder. Considering your music consisted of different ballet numbers, it's safe to say he always won.

Week after week, you'd show up in his studio and ask him to just turn his music off, to lower the volume, to do something other than drive you crazy, but all he'd do was poorly flirt and smirk, his eyes always on you one way or another, and if you weren't so annoyed by him, you’re sure you would have found him captivating. It's not surprising when one day he’s the one showing up at your studio—you're actually excited about it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally given up and is here to apologize. When you approach him and find all his students outside behind him, you quickly realize that's not the case. You glance between him and the kids.

“You guys go in and make friends, yeah?” You say as you move out the way to allow his students into your studio. You wait until they're all inside before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You whisper harshly, “What the fuck do you want?”

"Wow, you use that kind of language around your students?” He asks, his smirk all too evident on his face as he crosses his arms.

You stare at him blankly, no amusement etched on any of your features, and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Our studio flooded.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me?"

His shoulders slump as he groans. "Oh, c’mon.”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you won't use your words like a big boy?” you ask, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

He glares at you, and for once, it seems like you're the one getting under his skin. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly tut and shake your head. "Wow, you use that kind of language around your kids?”

He stands there and kicks at the sidewalk, clearly having some internal debate you don’t care enough to ask about, but he tells you anyway.

“Would you… be willing to share your studio with us until they fix our studio?”

Without missing a beat, you laugh. “Yeah no. I don't even know your name... What if you're some serial killer?”

“First of all, it's Rintaro Suna. Second of all, do you really think they would hire me to work around kids if I was a serial killer?”

You shrug. You don’t care about the logistics; you just don’t want him in your studio.

“And third of all, seriously?” He crosses his arms, and his tone is full of the kind of disappointment you'd only find in a friend who’s been betrayed—not in between two strangers who’ve done nothing but “fight” about music for weeks on end.

“Yes seriously. Can’t you find a new studio?”

“Owner says it’s more expensive to do that than fix whatever got fucked up.”

“Then find someone else to share with,” you say as you turn to walk back into your studio.

Suna grabs your wrist, and as you look over your shoulder at him, he pouts. "Are you really gonna take this out on the kids just because you hate me?”

You stare at him blankly, but the more you think about it and let what he’s said sink in, the softer your face becomes, and suddenly your conviction is nowhere to be found—just another leaf blown away in the wind. “How did your studio flood?”

Happy with how you don’t seem like you're about to escape off into your studio anymore, Suna lets go of your wrist and starts explaining, “Well, one kid clogged the toilet and the other left the sink running.”

“Deserved,” you say through a snort.

“Whatever. Are you gonna share or not?”

“Fine,” you sigh. "But I swear to god, Suna, the second you piss me off or don’t listen, I'm kicking your ass out. This is still my studio.”

"Technically, it’s not even yours.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes narrowed, and Suna can immediately tell you’re already thinking about taking back your offer of letting him stay in your studio.

He coughs awkwardly. "I'll shut up now.” 

“Good choice.”

A beat passes between the two of you just staring at each other, and when Suna realizes you won't say anything more, he takes the initiative.

Tilting his head at you, he asks, "So, are you gonna tell me your name now?”

You continue staring at him blankly.

"Oh, cmon, we’re gonna be sharing a studio now.”

“It's Y/n L/n.”

"Well, Y/n,” he says, somewhat dragging out your name before teasing, "I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

"I have a soft spot for the kids, not you,” you correct him, crossing your arms.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, brushing your shoulder with his as he walks past you and into your studio.

“Don’t just walk into my studio like you own it?!" you call out, following after him.

“Not your studio, and you don’t own it either.”

“You know what I mean, Suna!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It's almost scary how easily Suna and his students fit into your class. It didn’t even take a week for you to feel like having him in your studio was natural—how it should have always been. You hated how any ill-will you had toward him would suddenly vanish into thin air whenever you saw him interact with his or your students. You grew accustomed to your new routine with him.

Every other day, he could play his music and even teach some of your students some karate if they so desired, and vice versa. He’d bring you breakfast, and you'd bring him lunch, and sometimes the two of you would even go have dinner once all your students had left. You hated how he just wiggled his way into your life. You’re supposed to hate him—he used to play his music as loud as he could just to piss you off, and now you have dinner with him practically every day.

You’ve grown so fond of him that now, two months later, about to be three, you've completely forgotten why he’s here in the first place—that his residence in your studio is only temporary, and he’s just here till his studio is fixed. You’ve forgotten all about it because now you look forward to seeing him and actually want to see him more than you've ever wanted anything else before. and he feels the exact same because here he is, slumped in a chair in the back of the room, frowing as he watches his and your students combined because you’re not here.

The door swings open, and Suna can't help but let out a sigh of relief, practically jumping out of his seat, ready to go run and spin you in his arms like some shitty rom-com, only to find that it wasn't you who walked in; nope, it was just his friend. Suna’s face falls as he drops back into his chair with a groan.

“Okay, lovely to see ya too,” Osamu snorts as he walks over to Suna, taking the seat next to him.

He weakly tries pushing Osamu out of the chair, mumbling, “That’s Y/n’s seat.”

"Well, they aren't here, are they?”

Suna scowls at him but gives up trying to push him out nonetheless.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Running late, I guess.”

Osamu hums in response, and a comfortable silence falls over them. The only noise in the room was the kids whispering their next move to themselves or helping their friend with something. Suna watches them intently, with the care and attention of someone handling glass, and quickly finds a few students who need help.

"Hey, keep your leg straight when you kick,” he calls out to one of his students before turning to one of yours, “And you bend your knees more when you do your... uh-“ 

"Plié," the child supplies for him.

Suna nods. "Yeah, that whatever.”

Osamu doesn't know whether he should laugh at or side-eye Suna. “Do ya not know their names?”

"I don’t get paid enough to know their names.”

He shakes his head, deciding that commenting on that is not worth his time, and instead goes to why he came here in the first place. "I'm surprised yer still here, to be honest.”

"A job is a job.”

"No, I mean in this studio. I figured the repairs in yer’s would be finished by now; it’s been like, what? almost three months?”

Suna mumbles a slow, drawn-out, “…yeah.”

Osamu sits up straight, shifting in his seat to face Suna entirely. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t cuss in front of the kids; what’s wrong with you?" He reprimands, slapping Osamu’s arm.

“Don’t change the subject.”

"I'm not; I'm just saying.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, start by saying what’s up with the repairs.”

He does not. “Y/n will be back soon; you should leave.”

“Suna,” Osamu monotones.

"If I tell you, will you leave?”

“What did ya do, Suna?”

Suna looks away as he embarrassedly mumbles, “The repairs could’ve been done a long, long time ago…”

“What?!” Osamu practically shrieks as he sits up straight. “What do ya mean?!”

Suna glares at Osamu before looking toward the kids, whose attentions were caught by Osamu yelling and waving them off. “Ignore him.”

“Oh my god, have ya been stalling the repairs?” He asks, this time quietly. “Why would ya do that?”

“Why do you think, Osamu?”

Suna’s attitude does nothing to deter Osamu, not when he’s just had the realization of a lifetime. “Oh my god... Oh my god! Ya have a crush on Y/n, don't ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suna hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and threateningly boring into his.

“What happened to not cussing in front of the kids?”

Suna stares at him blankly, and Osamu merely sighs, slumping back into his seat.

"I can't believe this. I don't know if this is pathetic or cute—kinda both, to be honest.”

"Osamu, I swear-“

With neither of them having heard the studio door swing open, you unknowingly interrupt his threat: "Hey! Sorry, traffic was horrible—oh, who’s this?"

“Doesn't matter; he was just about to leave,” Suna says without missing a beat while standing straight up.

"I'm Osamu,” he says, suddenly approaching you. “And yer the infamous Y/n, I'm assuming?”

“Infamous..?” you question under your breath before shaking your head and deciding to ignore it. “Uh yeah—are you friends with Suna?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Osamu answers, ignoring Suna’s response. "I should get going, though. Nice meeting ya, Y/n!”

“Yeah, you too…”

Osamu waves you goodbye before winking at Suna and disappearing out the door.

You hum. “So what was that about?”

“No idea,” Suna shrugs as he walks away to gather his students.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suna has been weird ever since a week ago, when you walked into the studio to Suna and his friend. He’s avoided you as best as he can, and even when he’s not actively trying to somehow get away from you, he still feels Pluto far from his more than dry replies. And frankly, you’ve had enough. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong and how to fix it—you can’t know unless he tells you.

Which is why, when both of your students left, you borderline kidnapped him. You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into your car, driving the two of you to a restaurant, where you now sit in an awkward silence waiting for your food. But this is good, right? If he truly didn’t want to be in this position with you right now, you’re more than certain he could’ve put up a winning fight, yet he didn't, so that’s good. This is good.

"Did I do something?”

“Yeah,” he replies without missing a beat or looking up at you.

“Huh?” Your heart is in your throat as you blink at him. “What did I do?”

“Exist.”

“What?” You shake your head in disbelief. "I thought we were getting along."

“We are—god.” As he finally looks up at you, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You almost feel like you're back in his studio for the very first time with the way his eyes are boring into yours. “We get along too well, jesus christ, Y/n, you drive me crazy.”

“And you don’t drive me crazy?” you ask, giving him a crooked smile.

“You don't know what you’re saying,” he says flatly, yet the way it’s almost breathless has you thinking maybe he actually wants you to know what you’re saying—to know all of the implications that come with it and fully embrace them.

“Does it matter? Just stop ignoring me, Suna; I hate it.”

"I hate it too.”

“So then why are you doing it, idiot?”

“Because Y/n, I-“

You stare at him expectantly, patiently waiting for his answer.

"I get too distracted with you; I need to teach my students," he mumbles the rest of his sentence as he looks away from you, your scrutinizing gaze sending shivers down his spine and crushing any idea he had to say something else—say the truth—well, the whole truth, because you very well do distract Suna far too much for his liking.

“That sounds like a shitty excuse.”

Suna hums, and when he makes no move to explain himself, you wonder, “Why do I distract you so much?”

“Why do you care if I ignore you so much?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act childish, Suna.”

Suna merely raises an eyebrow at you, still waiting for your answer, just like you were waiting for his only a few moments ago.

You sigh. "I'm not sure.”

"Well, I am, so I won’t say anything until you're sure too.”

“That’s not fair, Sunaaaa,” you whine, sliding down your seat like a petulant child.

He shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. "I'm more than happy to wait.”

"Whatever, just stop ignoring me?”

"Yeah, I'll stop,” he says, nodding. “Sorry bout that.”

"S'fine." You wave him off before remembering something that makes you sit up straight again. "Oh, also, I've been meaning to ask about how your studio is going?”

Suna’s mood and face drop so fast that it’s as if he was never even happy or smiling in the first place—the temperature of the room suddenly icy cold. “Oh.”

"I'm not trying to kick you out, Suna,” you immediately add, reassuring him that, as of now, that's the last thing you’d ever want to do. "I actually like you in my studio... like a lot, I guess, and I don't know, to be honest, I'm scared I'm getting too used to you being there."

"Well, I'm already used to it, so either way, we’re both kinda fucked in that department.”

You can't help but smile so wide it hurts your cheeks, absolutely over the moon that he feels the exact same way. That he’s grown so used to you, like the two of you should have never been apart in the first place, and it was always only a matter of time before you found your way to each other.

"I'm not sure, though. I haven’t heard much,” he continues, interrupting your inner swooning.

"Okay, well, that’s good then,” you say, nodding more to yourself than to him. “No need to get rid of you so soon; who else will annoy me?”

"Weren't you just begging me to stop ignoring you, and now I'm annoying?” he taunts.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. "I was not begging Rintaro Suna.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up," you say through a smile, no hostility anywhere in you. “Oh also! The kids wanted me to tell you about our recital coming up.”

“Yeah? When is it?”

“Week from now. They really want you there.”

Suna tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing at you in doubt. “Just them?”

“Just them.”

Suna doesn't believe it for a second, and maybe he would’ve if your voice wasn't so shakey and breathless.

You relent; you never had much resolve when it came to him anyway—that's how he ended up in your studio in the first place, isn't it? “And me too, I guess.”

A blush that he makes look all too good covers his cheeks. "I'd love to go, Y/n.”

“Great!”

Suddenly his face drops, and he’s cursing under his breath, "Shit, wait, actually, we have a tournament that day too.”

"Oh, that's fine! I mean, being in the studio with us, it's like you get a free recital every day, right?” You smile, but even then, it's clear as day how disappointed you are.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I can still try to make it.”

“No no! It's fine; you won't miss much. You have your own kids stuff to worry about.”

Suna frowns, wanting nothing more than to wipe that dejected look off your face. “Y/n.”

"Suna, it's fine, really." You weakly try to reassure him, but he’s just not budging.

He shakes his head. "I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Okay, I'll hold you to it then.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

The recital came faster than you cared for. You would be excited for this had Suna been able to come, but he couldn't, and now, even though you know he won't be here, you still can't help but peek through the stage curtains, hoping and praying you'll somehow spot him in the crowd. You try to keep your disappointment at bay the whole recital, and surprisingly you do. The recital goes off without a hitch, and the only thing you can wish for is that you were more excited. Your little ones did absolutely amazing and completely blew the crowd away, yet here you are moping around over some dude who, up until a few months ago, you hated.

“They did amazing,” an oddly familiar voice says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "I'm sure it's only because of their teacher... Do you know them? I'm actually looking for them.”

You're flattered, really, but you can't deal with compliments or holding a conversation right now, not when you want to just crawl under your bed covers and never come out. Not to mention that no one else is supposed to be backstage right now. You sigh before turning around to ask them to leave, only to practically jump out of your skin with excitement.

“Suna!” you exclaim happily, running your way toward him and closing some of the gap between you two. “You’re here, but how? Where were you? I looked, and I couldn't find you—wait, I thought? Where's your kids? Shouldn't you be at their tournament?” 

Suna watches you ramble with the softest of faces, huffing a small laugh. He shrugs once you're done. “Samu took over.”

“Rintaro Suna.”

“What? The little shits will get over it… but I don't think you would've if I didn't show up.”

"Well, I would've tried.” You take another step toward him. "Though I can't say you're not a smart man, Rintaro.”

Suna eyes you curiously and follows your movements, taking a step toward you. “So I've been told.”

You roll your eyes, despite an undeniable smile dressing your face, and in some fit of arrogance, you take the last step toward Suna, thus closing any remaining space between the two of you. With your chests touching, there’s nothing left for you to do but wrap your arms around his neck, which you do with ease—as if they were always meant to be there this whole time. He quickly follows your lead, resting his hands on your waist. But his eyebrows are furrowed as if to ask if this is okay, and you nod. This is more than okay—you’d actually prefer more, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting the hint.

“So are you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Suna goes wide-eyed, and it takes a minute for his body to catch up with his brain, but before you know it, Suna is practically slamming his face into yours, kissing you like if he doesn't, he’ll die. like you’re the very oxygen Suna has been so desperately searching for all his life—and who's to say he isn't yours as well? Meeting his lips with the same exact urgency, you're sure if anyone else was backstage right now, the two of you would be scolded for years to come. Suna pulls away for air, practically panting; his face is flushed with such a deep red you can still make it out even under the dim lights, and you push strands of his hair out of his face just to revel in his blush some more.

Still struggling to catch his breath, he swallows harshly. “Would it ruin the moment if I told you my studio is finally fixed?”

"Yes, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and keep kissing you instead.”

"Yeah, ok, I like that idea better anyway.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[imshymorph]

Gather around everyone, here’s some soft!Gaz headcanons. Idk if it's a blorbo or me ranting and fangirling but i need to share the brain rot. another post today cause fuck it, i’ve been thinking about it for a while. also this was like a constant stream of thought and not proof read.

I truly don’t understand why this man gets ignored so much and I never will. He literally has everything you could ever want, saying he’s a ten doesn’t cut it. And yet I barely see people talking about him. (Except the gaz nation pookies, I see you).

This man absolutely bags the hottest significant other, doesn’t even know how. Don’t get me wrong, he 100% has rizz but he’s also just naturally attractive and inviting so i feel like by the time he starts to flirt on purpose it’s been two hours of pure smoothness. He’s also absolutely whipped but plays it off really smoothly.

- - - - -

Not only does he bag the hottest and meanest pookie aka you, but he also absolutely knows he did. And he’ll let right about everyone else know. I do think he’s more private about his life than say Soap, so it’s not like he’ll stop a random recruit and tell him about you (which i truly believe Johnny would do). But he has absolutely followed Price around base while he tells him about the two weeks leave he took to be with you.

Poor Price on his desk, dealing with the paperwork that comes as a necessity after Ghost and Soap blew something up during a drill that didn’t involve explosives at all. Not only is he having to fill out like fifteen different forms and reports, but he has Gaz sitting across from him, scrolling through his gallery and showing pictures of the place he took you out to on your Friday dinner date. Not only that but if Price just pretends to look but doesn’t actually pay attention Kyle will know and insist until the captain actually looks at the slideshow.

He doesn’t hammer your dates' knowledge onto Soap and Ghost as much, but he’ll definitely do subtle flexes. He chest the time on his phone instead of his watch so they’ll see the picture of you he has as a background. If someone brings up a weekend plan he’ll say how he can’t because he’s already going out with his darling. Subtly will tell anyone that will listen how you got him his new shirt, pants, cap, whatever it is tbh.

He also knows every single product that you prefer, doesn’t matter what kind it is. Makeup, skincare, cologne, fabric softener, snacks, beverages, food places, clothing brands. He doesn’t care, he knows all of them by heart. It’s like he has a six sense too, every time you’re close to running out of them he’ll randomly stop in the store on his way back to you from base and get them.

While i headcanon that Johnny gets into skin care after his darling introduces him to it (which you can read here, if you want). I believe Kyle absolutely has his own routine and that he is the one who first brings up the idea of having a spa night once a week. He’s the one to get the products, he even goes all out and does them themed, like by scent or colour or something.

Has a bunch of hoodies in rotation (or any other clothing piece you might steal from him) always making sure to wear at least one of them for a few days before “forgetting” it at yours or “forgetting” to take it to base once you’ve moved in together. He knows how much you love wearing them and how important it is that it smells like him. So he dutifully makes sure you always have a fresh Kyle™ piece of clothing available. Also it absolutely works for him too because he takes back the one you’ve had with you meanwhile. The mix of your cologne, body wash and fabric softener his favourite scent for sure.

And last but not least of my Gaz is the perfect boyfriend agenda (for today) is the fact that i know he just gives the best back massages. You don’t even have to ask for it, he’ll just come to the living room, lightly pat your shoulder so you move forward. He fits himself between the couch and your back and just gives you the massage of your life. He just laughs it off when you tell him he could be a masseuse if he ever retires from the military.

It takes less than 5 minutes to have you absolutely melting, and when he’s pleased with how comfortable and relaxed you look he just pulls you back against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist and his chin rests on your shoulder as you sit between his legs, the both of you watching a random show he saw good ratings of.

[reticent-writer]

Ok, nevermind~ 😚

I know it's long and now I realized I basically wrote it myself (but meh-y), so hey, how would you write it? Would you add something, dismiss something, it's up to you. 💕💕

You don't have to write it ofc. 😘

May I please request something with Gojo Satoru from JJK where reader (male) wears a mask (he's mute) and looks like he never actually smiles or laugh so Gojo takes it upon himself to make it happen.

He tried everything and anything but nothing worked.

One day they meet outside, Gojo tries to come up with something new and in flustration lifts his black eye mask (idk what is it called 🤜😋) and scratches his eye.

That makes reader react a bit, and Gojo notices. He asks what's wrong and reader blinks quickly a few times.

Gojo realizes reader never saw his eyes and takes off his mask.

And reader smiles, or more like his eyes are smiling. He realizes Gojo can't see him smile so he takes his own mask off.

They both stand in silence, smiling at each other like lovestruck idiots which goes to them start laughing.

When they calm down, Gojo tells reader he has a beautiful smile and shouldn't hide it. And reader signs the same thing.

Now when you see them together, they are always facing each other and are laughing, and not hiding anything. Not anymore.

Thank you so much~ 💕

This sat in my drafts for a while and i'm so sorry for that but I wanted to write a short story, it didn't get far so i thought i could add a bit to it, like headcannons. I hope thats okay and once again i'm so sorry.

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Black cat + golden retriever (reminds me of geto and gojo😭)

After the two of you got together Gojo taught himself to be fluent in sign language to surprise you

it did

from then on if the two of you were around anyone he would only have a conversation with you in sign language

Everyone knows the basics of sign language that's to Gojo going on a tangent about inclusion and how even if you can hear your 'spoken language' is sign, it's good to know at least the basics,

Gojo is the only one who sees your whole face and brags about to anyone who would listen

He also buys you masks that he thinks you like

When Megumi was in elementary school he begged you to pick him up instead of Gojo

he was sulking for a week

The two of you rarely ever fought and if you did you would make up before bed

Gojo makes you feel comfortable in any and every situation

The two of you age like a fine wine together but he can be a bit clingy

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