#and Cicero has him all to himself!

[whitegoldtower]

I have a new character to pair up with Cicero! All these altmer romances I’ve done, I’ve neglected my favourite imperial!!

Time to give him a bit of lovin’.

So. The new guy. What can be said about him?

🩸

His name is Morveth ‘Matty’ Groves; a folk-hero to the poor and needful, and a thorn in the side of the wealthy and powerful. An odd sort of vampire, he plays into the ‘Robin Hood’ trope, robbing the rich blind and sucking them dry, before redistributing his loot amongst those who need it more. Certain Argonians in Riften frequently find their pockets lined. The Khajiit caravans find themselves better off because of the arcane trickster. The Dunmer in Windhelm leave their windows open so that Ol’ Matty Groves might pay them a visit.

The rich, however, lock their windows, hide their wives and coin-purses, and hope for the best.

Appearance-wise, Matty Groves is a rather tall and muscular Dunmer, with lavender-grey skin, dusky and pale mauve eyes (with one dilated pupil that causes one eye to appear black), and a head of dust-white, intensely wavy hair. He’s more on the handsome side, and is known to be distracted by beauty. His appearance is generally pleasing, if a little off-putting; his pupils (one being massively dilated and the other being pin-prick small) giving him a rather feral look, and his twelve-fanged grin being considerably scarier (six fangs on the top row, and six on the bottom, teeth stained slightly from years of drinking blood and smoking canis root, which provides a disturbing contrast to his tongue and gums, which are a deep black-purple).

He’s a freaky rogue with what should be an illegal level of charisma, and the Thieves Guild rack up tens all across the board because this guy is GOOD at his trade - high sneak, high speech, high lockpicking and pickpocketing, double daggers, a bag full of poisons and an expert level of illusion magic.

It’s out of pure curiosity that he happens upon the tiny jester at the Loreius Farm, having heard Uthgerd mention him whilst conducting his business in Whiterun late one night. He does, of course, lend his aid, weirdly charmed by the little guy.

…And then he lends aid to Aventus Aretino (“Hey kids, wanna see a dead body?”), which lands him in the Dark Brotherhood.

Matty Groves has it out for Astrid from the beginning, seeing her as the ultimate target - a stupidly wealthy woman with ‘bad vibes’. He smells treachery, deceit and greed. The corners of his mouth begin to twitch.

Naturally, he’s going to side with sweet Cicero.

[balancethescales]

thinking about the specific moments where the berzatto family falls in love with sydney (because of course they do, everyone does).

for richie, it takes the end of the beef and right up till the opening of the bear to happen. he is full of contempt and grief when he meets her and all he knows is that when he looks at her face he is afraid. he doesn’t like that feeling. richie is not a man who finds himself fearful a lot, but she is everything he is not and nothing that he is and he hates himself for it. if she is what it means to be passionate, then what is he? is he nothing but an empty shell of mikey, stuck on earth to shake his fist at passing clouds, because how dare they move and continue on like mikey was nothing to them, as if he wasn’t the very point that the earth revolved around? everyone is leaving him behind, and she is proudly leading the pack. it’s not right. but then— he gets it. he talks to garrett and jess and chef terry and he sees sydney in every corner of that restaurant. the fear slowly is replaced with respect as the week goes on and he realizes that just because she’s good doesn’t mean she’s out to get him. that’s the berzatto upbringing in him doing the talking, but it doesn’t have to, because shes a berzatto now, maybe not officially (not yet, but mark his words, she will be) but she is, and that’s not how she does things. so, he lets her lead them into the future to something good and different and better.

for sugar, it’s instant. she was born to a mother who is triggered by her very existence, and it has hurt her all her life. she is full of love and the one person she wants to give it to the most doesn’t want any part of it. she was born to give but is surrounded by those who are afraid to even take it, to reach out their hand and meet her in the middle. and if they cant take then they themselves have nothing to give, so she gets used to being the one who has to force feed her love down their throats, because if no one does, if no one shows them that they are worthy of good things, then they will crumble (“if i just talked to him more—” “no, nat—” “if i had just—” “it’s not your fault, honey. it’s never been.”). but when she meets sydney, it’s like looking into a mirror. she sees her bright eyes and soft smiles and careful but strong hands and instantly recognizes her for what she is: a giver. and sugars heart swells with even more love than she thought possible, because finally, she’s not alone— there is someone else there to slowly, albeit subconsciously, take care of her crumbling family, to show them that despite what their mother may have taught them, its okay to not be okay (she tries her best not to cry when syd asks her if shes okay, but she does. and syd doesnt grab her face or yell at her or call her stupid. she makes her a meal. and sugar cries some more).

for cicero, the love isn’t instant, and it’s not even entirely love. she is strong and she is assertive, but that also makes her naive and a very expensive risk. she makes him curious for what’s to come, intrigued by the way she doesn’t back down from carmy whose voice so often mimics the berzattos that came before him (“you’re better than this, kid.” “i don’t know what i am.” “whatever it is, it’s not this.”). she's self assured and knows her place in the establishment and is unafraid to let people know it. it’s a refreshing change of pace from mikey, who often resorted to intimidation to get his way, or carmy, who’s anxiety envelopes him and distracts him from what’s right there in front of him. but she is not them. she is focused and on track and is willing to put in the work to get what she wants. he doesn’t visit the bear often, only drops by once in a while to deliver bad news or to fulfill a favour or to just enjoy some good food, but when he does, she is always there, dedicated to ensuring that carmy and michaels, and now, her dream stays alive. she is good for his family, and he trusts her to keep the berzatto spirit alive.

for michelle, it’s quite simple. she always looked out for carmy, their little bear, so when she meets her it’s a family thanksgiving party at the bear and syd stumbles out of the kitchen, obviously frazzled and a little sweaty (“carmy, im not ready, i didn’t even change yet and the turk—” “don’t worry, tina will take care of it, you look great, they’ll love you, they just really wanted to meet you—”), but she’s smiling. she’s a little awkward when she introduces herself, and michelle finds herself endeared by her nervous ramble (“it’s, uh, really nice to meet you guys. sorry, i didn’t know that i was going to be pulled out of the kitchen so soon. uh, im sydney. yeah, i guess carmy already told you guys, huh? um. im sorry, how are you related to the family again? i mean, i dont want to offend but it’s just. uh. well, you guys are just very... normal?”) and she’ll laugh and look at stanley and the two of them will think to themselves, good job carmy, she’s a good one, before telling syd something dumb and nonsensical about a genetic mutation and richie interrupts to tell michelle it’s not a genetic mutation it’s called being boring and syd will laugh and michelle will too, truly happy that their little bear found someone normal, a breath of fresh air within the smoke of their family.

for donna, it’s weird. it’s tense. they don’t meet for a long time. they don’t meet at the bear when it first opens and not at the bear even when it has found it’s footing, but by chance. they are somewhere mundane (a grocery store, a park, or maybe just the street) and there is no other family member around when syd meets the berzatto matriarch. she only knows what donna looks like from photos at sugars house because carmys apartment is devoid of any actual sentiment (although that has begun to change since she made him get an actual dresser and he dedicated one of the drawers to her stuff). she calls out to her by her name, and donna turns around startled. she doesn’t recognize syd, of course, who introduces herself and informs her of who she is to the family. when donna smiles it’s not a real one, and syd knows this, but it doesn’t deter her. she tells donna that her kids love her (“even after everything, nat?” “she’s our mother. its all that we can do.”) and that her kids are great (“carmy, you are not broken.” “im a little broken.” “no, listen to me, the fact that you are still here, means something. its something.”) and that there will always be a table for her at the bear (“chef, someones calling in for a reso for 1 but we’re all full up… except for—“ “yo, dont finish that sentence. table 7 for ms. berzatto is an indefinite booking. is that understood?” “yes, chef”). donnas smile fades and her chest fills with anger but just as she’s about to explode in typical berzatto fashion syd interrupts her. she has faced the bear many a time before and has handled herself with grace and dignity everytime, so this is no different. she smiles brightly and thanks donna for listening to her and hopes she considers coming in, because she’d really like to cook for her. she looks like she needs a good meal. she deserves one. she turns and walks away. donnas stomach growls. that night, table 7 is occupied for the first time since the bear opened its doors.

and carmy? well, there isn’t an exact moment. its a culmination of awkward partnership (“i don’t want to be shitty.” “okay, then dont be.”) and flawless teamwork (“the menu needs—” “already on it, chef.”) and nights unwinding at the bar down the street (“of course you drink an old fashioned.” “what’s that supposed to mean?” “nothing, it’s just very… tortured-chef-from-the-slums-of-chicago of you”) and spontaneous phone calls just to hear the others voice (“why are you whispering?” “i… don’t know. my dads home. its a habit.” “you’re 27.” “and you’re white, you wouldn’t get it.”) till they’re just inseparable (“cousin, wheres carmy?” “with syd, duh.” “why'd i even ask?”). and then, sydney and carmen become something else. something tender and sweet and terrifying and beautiful all mixed together into… something. there’s no word for what they have. but it feels so right; to the guests who taste their food and recognize that the hands who put it together are full of love and care; to the staff at the bear who see the unspoken communication, the lingering touches, and their soft eyes that seem to always be on the other; to the berzatto family who notice that carmy looks a little brighter, and shakes a little less. yes, its love, but its so much more. it’s syd and carmy. it always has been, and always will be.

(“can i ask you something? something corny and lame and gross?” “always.” “when did you, like, know?” “know what?” “like, when did you know that you loved me? like, not as a chef or a friend, but as... y'know.” “that’s very middle school of you to ask.” “shut up, i did warn you.” “…” “so?” “its, uh, i don’t, i don’t know.” “well, that’s rude.” “no, i mean, i can’t say its one moment because... it was all of them. together. like, one moment you’re staging and then everything happened and, and, keeps happening but the next thing i knew you were there and you always were there and i just knew that i never wanted you to not be there.” “that’s…. really, really, disgusting, and frankly, a little unprofessional.” “oh, fuck off.” “no, like, i knew you were obsessed with me, but wow, that is a whole new other level.” “fuck you, get off of me, don’t touch me.” “no no no, please—” “i let you into my family—” “let me?” “into my restaurant—” “i think you mean OUR restaurant—” “only for you to humiliate me in my own bed? how dare you.” “…are you sulking?” “…” “…carmy?” “syd?” “me too.” “…heard, chef. now come back here.”)

(and it’s unspoken, but everyone knows that michael would’ve loved her too. i mean, she’s sydney fucking adamu, she conquered the bear. how could anyone not love her?)

[formyloveoflove]

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

[argisthebulwark]

This Weight Upon My Shoulders Won't Fade

summary: How they react to seeing you cry. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Cicero, Miraak, Farkas, Brynjolf, Erandur, Arnbjorn warnings: brief mention of injury, lots of stress masterlist

Vilkas panics. He's terrified that you're hurt and begins searching you for injuries. Hastily, he takes mental notes - no sign of blood, no apparent bruising, perhaps it's internal? You haven't been eating well, it could be causing you pain. He pauses when you sniffle and tell him that you aren't injured it's just been an especially rough week. "What do you need?" He's earnest, prepared to shoulder any task that will make your life easier. "What can I do?" "Just - just sit with me for a bit." He eases into the chair at your side and tugs you onto his lap. Vilkas' heart breaks when you cuddle into him and he feels the quivering of your shoulders, uneven breaths puffed out against his skin. He's content to hold you while you cry, pressing kisses to your head and promising that he will take on all of your duties if you need. He's no stranger to responsibility.

Cicero's soft fingers frame your face and peppers kisses across your sore cheeks. Gentle thumbs swipe at your tears, his voice dripping with compassion when he finally speaks. "My Listener, I vow to kill whoever hurt you. I will hunt them down." Your laugh eggs him on, the sad little smile on your face all the encouragement he needs. "Would that make you feel better? Your loyal Cicero to put someone in the ground for you?" His threats escalate, becoming goofier and more outlandish with each giggle he summons from you. He's deliriously proud of himself when you're laughing through your tears, eyes squeezed shut and thankfully beginning to dry. "Should we go out together? I'm sure there's a contract or two waiting around." Cicero urges, offering you one of his beloved blades. "You already made me feel better." You sigh, a grateful kiss planted on his lips. Cicero's a bit shocked - he made you feel better? "I don't deserve you, my Keeper."

Miraak threatens to burn the world for displeasing you. He sinks to his knees, malice lacing his voice when he demands the name of whoever has dared to harm you. He doesn't bother worrying over any repercussions - his world has narrowed down to the tears brimming in your eyes. "Miraak -" "A name, my love." He softens his tone, terrified by the tears spilling down your cheeks. One scarred hand raises to wipe them away but they do not cease. Miraak's blood runs cold when you collapse into his chest, sobs racking your body. "I will tear it all down." He murmurs, allowing you to burrow into his robes. "I will burn the world for hurting you, my dragon." "Can you just stay here instead?" He's relieved to hear a touch of humor in your voice. "Burning the world down can wait. It's not going anywhere."

Farkas gathers you into his broad chest, one hand rubbing across your back. He knows just how much you've been handling since becoming Harbinger and wishes he could take some of the burden for you. He's witnessed the ways your role has broken you down - dark circles under your eyes after the sleepless nights and cheer in your voice nearly gone after another boring meeting. "So proud of you." He mumbles, allowing you to cry into his tunic. "It's so much." His heart drops at your voice - gods, how he misses the easy way you'd once laughed together. "It's all so much, I don't know how much more I can take." "I'll handle all the recruits." "No, that's not your job -" "It is now. Recruiting and training is mine." Farkas wipes at your messy face, relieved when you nod. "And Vilkas can handle all the stuffy meetings." "I couldn't put that on him." "He'll bitch and moan but he's good at that stuff." He kisses your head once more, resolved to never let it get this far again. "Don't worry, honey. We'll take care of everything."

Brynjolf extends a hand for you, offering to show you somewhere quiet. His footsteps are silent when he leads you down to the docks and clambers atop the fishery. The smell isn't exactly pleasant but he's correct - all that chatter from the market and the Flagon are gone, replaced with the soft lapping of waves against old wood. Nestled far from the rest of town he bundles you into his cloak and kisses the top of your head. Lake Honrich's winds are chilly but his warmth keeps that at bay. "Alright, love." He sighs, one arm slung over your shoulders. "Let's hear it. Get it all out." God, it feels good to get everything off your chest. Brynjolf has no shortage of responsibilities but you've never experienced anything like being the Guild Master. You are constantly pulled in a dozen different directions. Everyone needs your full attention at all times. Tasks and assignments have piled up over the months until you're practically drowning under them. "Y'know, I hear you've got a second in command you could assign the bullshit to." Brynjolf finally speaks once you've spilled your guts. "Fairly competent if my reports are correct. Handsome lad, too."

Erandur is fairly sure his heart breaks at the sight. Careful fingers wipe at the fat tears rolling down your cheeks as sweet words fall from his lips. He's seen you hurt before, certainly - he's carried you for miles after attempting to heal a broken bone or close a terrible wound but this anguish is new. "What can I do, my beloved?" He coos, gathering you into his arms. He can't help it, this compulsion to fix everything for you. "Should I draw you a bath? Or we could retire to bed early this evening, chores can wait until the morning." When he sinks into a warm bath at your side, Erandur's terrified by the clammy hands that clasp his. You are powerful, his fearless savior. He's never seen this bone deep exhaustion in you. "It's all so much." You finally mutter when he massages soap into your tense shoulders. "Being the Dragonborn - it's more than one person can handle." "I will carry whatever burdens you permit me to, my love." He murmurs, glad when your tired eyes fall closed. He will offer you anything he can, even if it is simple comfort.

Arnbjorn freezes. His brain halts at the sight of you storming past his workstation with angry tears shimmering in your eyes. It's been years since he's been this emotionally invested - he's forgotten how to handle this. "Hey." He's shocked by the rage in your eyes when you glare over at him, hands clenched at your sides. "Meeting go badly?" "You cannot imagine." Uh oh, he hasn't heard that tension in your voice in ages. "Wanna hit somethin'?" Your acceptance is quite the relief. He keeps a careful hand on the hilt of his latest sword, ensuring that it remains on the workbench when your hammer slams down on the blade. Over and over the sound of metal rings through the Sanctuary, a convenient cover for the angry sobs that slip past your gritted teeth. The forge has dried your tears before they can fall. Once your arms are numb and muscles feel dangerously limp you turn to him, all that burning rage drained away. Arnbjorn doesn't say a word, merely plucking the tools from your quivering hands and pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

[brother-emperors]

ANTONY cry 'havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war

earlier in my script (which is not Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar), Antony refers to Dolabella as one of his ‘dogs of war’ when talking to Cassius (which IS a reference to Shakespeare’s JC), and it comes back around after Cicero writes to Cassius and informs him of Trebonius’ fate

While these things were taking place at Rome, Cassius and Brutus were collecting troops and money, and Trebonius, governor of the province of Asia, was fortifying his towns for them. [...] Trebonius, who was captured in bed, told his captors to lead the way to Dolabella, saying that he was willing to follow them. One of the centurions answered him facetiously, "Go where you please, but you must leave your head behind here, for we are ordered to bring your head, not yourself." With these words the centurion immediately cut off his head, and early in the morning Dolabella ordered it to be displayed on the praetor's chair where Trebonius was accustomed to transact public business. Since Trebonius had participated in the murder of Caesar by detaining Antony in conversation at the door of the Senate-house while the others killed him, the soldiers and camp-followers fell upon the rest of his body with fury and treated it with every kind of indignity. They rolled his head from one to another in sport along the city pavements like a ball till it was completely crushed. This was the first of the murderers who received the meed of his crime, and thus vengeance overtook him.

App. Civil Wars III. 26

For Dolabella is in Syria, and, as you have foreseen in your prophetic soul and have foretold, Cassius will crush him while they are on their way. For Dolabella has had the gates of Antioch shut in his face and got a good beating in trying to storm it. Not trusting in any other city, he has betaken himself to Laodicea, on the sea-coast of Syria. There I hope he will speedily pay the penalty of his crime: for he has no place of refuge, nor will he much longer be able there to stand out against an army as large as that of Cassius. I even hope that Dolabella has by this time been overpowered and crushed.

Cic. Fam. 12.14

Place then before your eyes, O conscript fathers, that spectacle, miserable indeed, and tearful, but still indispensable to rouse your minds properly: the nocturnal attack upon the most beautiful city in Asia; the irruption of armed men into Trebonius’s house, when that unhappy man saw the swords of the robbers before he heard what was the matter; the entrance of Dolabella, raging,—his ill-omened voice, and infamous countenance,—the chains, the scourges, the rack, the armourer who was both torturer and executioner; all which they say that the unhappy Trebonius endured with great fortitude. A great praise, and in my opinion indeed the greatest of all, for it is the part of a wise man to resolve beforehand that whatever can happen to a brave man is to be endured with patience if it should happen.

Cicero, Philippic 11

Philippi and Perusia, Ronald Syme

ko-fi⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

[mothiir]

put Cato in the cuck chair

….but this time with sex pollen. I’m sorry for this. Inspired ofc by @moodymisty, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams and all others who have got me into bully boy cato

cw: gangbang, sex pollen, Cato being a sexist prick.

—

—

The first indication you have that the mission has gone very, very wrong is the sight of Roboute sans helmet, cheeks flushed red, blue eyes spangling like the aftermath of a nuclear explosion — he practically barrels into Sicarius’ quarters, where you are mending a tear in an Ultramarine’s undergarment, while Sicarius himself fumes quietly in the corner, clearly still rankling from being excluded from the planet side drop. We need someone to watch the diplomat, Roboute had said, in that tone that brooked no argument. 

The diplomat, Roboute calls you. The lady, the squad say. And yet Cato Sicarius still has no shame whatsoever in calling you the woman — or, when he is especially vexed (and Roboute is not within earshot) the whore. 

Sicarius is on his feet at once. “My lord —?”

The rest of the squad follows in, collapsing into the room like a pack of hounds returned from the chase. One of them yanks his helm off, revealing a face flushed just as Roboute’s, nostrils flared and panting. 

“Daemon,” the young recruit manages, only for one of his brothers to shush him frantically. 

“Died,” another astartes supplies. His helm is already long gone; his sandy hair plastered to his scalp with sweat. His eyes are shining. 

“Yes, died but afterwards —“

”Spores,” manages a third, shucking off his gauntlets. “Father, it is too hot.” The last sentence is directed towards Roboute; it lilts almost into a whine, a sound so incongruous with the marine’s bulk that you may have found it funny, in less dramatic circumstances. “Father it is too hot, and it hurts — “

”Be at ease, Augustus — we will be fine. We will all be fine.”

Roboute moves in a blur of blue. It still shocks you how a man of such bulk can dash with the speed and grace of a hare. He grabs Sicarius by the scruff, and lifts him bodily off the ground, dropping him without ceremony into a chair, pressing a strange gun into his hands. It’s all sharp angles and edges — Eldar make? Sicarius eyes it with deep suspicion. 

“What is —?”

”If things seem to be going too far — if she is in peril of mortal wounds — I want you to shoot us,” says Roboute, his voice low and serious, and yet somehow wrenched. He clasps Sicarius’s face with one hand, pinching his cheeks together. “This is a bio-weapon — it will only effect those with Ultramarine DNA. She’ll be fine, but it will knock the men out and a few shots will slow even myself down. I would rather not use it — I would rather solve this using more old-fashioned means — but I do not want her to perish in such an ignoble way. ”

Sicarius is so rarely at a loss for words. His mouth pops open, apparently to ask something, but he’s silenced when Roboute —

When Roboute kisses him. Hard. On the mouth. Your eyes widen, and Roboute curses, shoving the other marine away. 

“Apologies, Cato — it’s all — it’s a ll a little much at present.”

Roboute turns to you. He has positioned the chair so it is facing the chaise lounge on which you perch, mending in your lap. The furniture here is all too large for you, designed for Space Marine bulk, and you are suddenly, profoundly aware of your own smallness. 

“My Lord,” Sicarius manages. “What was —“

”Slaneeshi daemon. Last minute defence strategy. It — it will wear off eventually, but we need to redirect the urges, lest it tear us apart. Augustus, stop touching Cicero — Cicero, get your hand out of your damn pants. Have some dignity.”

”But you just kissed —“

”Nevermind that, you heard the Primarch get your hands off my arse —“

Three of the squad are directly behind the chaise lounge, slap-fighting with each other as they scramble to remove their armour, dropping it directly onto the floor in a manner that would have a tech-priest weeping at the flagrant disrespect shown to the machine-spirit within. Two others are practically glued to the door, huddled together like lambs, apparently afraid to move, quivering —

Quivering with fear, or with the effort of restraining themselves? Neither are wearing their helmets, and both are staring directly at you with a focus that is damn unnerving. It seems almost — almost hungry —

In another blur of preternatural speed, Roboute is before you, removing the mending from your lap with deliberate care. His smile is somewhat fixed, and doesn’t touch his manic eyes. 

“My lady, when you took this position you swore that you would give your life up for the Ultramarines, and in service of the Emperor,” he says, his voice still rough and low. Normally, the Primarch deliberately pitches his voice a little higher, avoiding his normal voice, which is clearly inhuman, a rumbling bass that speaks of deep lungs and a biology almost as alien to you as the Eldar. 

“Of course. Always.”

”Good. Good. Then I ask this of you as. I would ask my men to go to battle. You are strong, and I know you will endure.”

”I — I’ll do anything, of course I will,” you say, lost in the magnificent glow of his eyes, unable to deny him even if you wanted to. Primarchs are practically hypnotic to their own legions; a baseline human stands no chance. 

“Good girl,” he says, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? So willing to please.”

”Father, can I —“

”Primarch gets dibs, shut up —“

You look back again at the bickering astartes, and your heart stutters at the sight: they’re all naked; skin flushed and glossy with sweat. The two by the door have joined their brothers, disrobing with shaking hands. 

“When you said…when you said service,” you say, pieces starting to click into place just a little too late. “Uh —“

”Hush, little one,” Roboute says. “Drink this.”

He shoves a bottle up at your face. You swallow instinctively, and Roboute stares at the movement of your throat, the flex and pull of muscles. It’s tea — you recognise the smell, if not the taste. Relationships between human women and Space Marines are rarely spoken of but by no means rare, and this tea is infamous among certain circles for making thing s a little easier. It’s a variation on an old Ultramarine recipe that aids with childbirth. It eases pain and opens you up.

”There. Good. Swallow that. Swallow it all.”

Roboute, apparently unable to wait any longer, sits beside you and pulls you into his lap. His mouth on yours is eager and demanding, his tongue sliding past your lips, filling your mouth. You close your eyes and kiss back, wondering if this is all a fantastical dream. The Primarch tugs at your dress, pulling it off your shoulders, bearing your breasts, and you hear five astartes moan in harmony. 

No. Not a dream. 

”Hold her —“ Roboute orders, lifting you up, and another astartes gathers you into his arms, his prick rigid against your thigh. He cradles you to his chest, his mouth seeking your nape, his tongue along your jugular. You squirm in his grasp, panting as his hand goes straight between your legs, thick fingers probing along your cunt, only to withdraw. Primarch’s dibs, you realise, and bite back a shrill of hysterical laughter. 

Roboute has rid himself of his own armour, his cock standing up in his lap; you try to eyeball measurements, planting a hand on your stomach. He grabs you back, and replaces your hand with his. 

“You’ll take me, little one. I have faith in you. You’ll take all of us.”

—

—

Cato Sicarius is going to shoot himself. He’s decided — it is the only honourable thing to do. The xenos weapon is cool in his hand, and he caresses the trigger in slow, circular motions that certainly aren’t meant to be echoing the movements of your slender hips. 

You took Roboute up to the hilt with no small amount of effort, puffing and mewling, and growing teary eyed — but his gene-father kept urging you down, cooing about what a good girl you were, what a loyal servant, how well you took him — and, demonstrating once more that the Avenging Son can achieve the impossible, you ended up with the full length of a Primarch in your guts, your belly bulging around him. Your thighs were stretched to their limit as you straddled him, and — lazy thing that you are — you didn’t have the strength to ride him. That did not seem to matter to Gulliman, who simply picked you up and slid you back down, using you like a toy. He started off as slow as possible, but soon abandoned that, jerking his hips up to meet you as he yanked you down again, and again, and again. 

The tears soon broke into full on sobs. Gulliman hushed and soothed you — patently ridiculous, in Sicarius’s opinion, since you were only doing your duty, and no one (least of all a damn woman) should be praised for doing their part for the Emperor’s will — and you tried your best to swallow back your cries, lips swollen and puffy as he kissed you, nipping and sucking at your flesh. Sicarius’s battle brothers flocked closer, clearly wanting to touch but not daring, not yet, instinctively waiting for Roboute to have his fill. 

As Sicarius is counting the threads on the chaise lounge — and only because your moans and whimpers irritate him so, not to distract himself — Roboute finally cums. Your belly is stretched so tightly around him that Sicarius sees the Primarch’s seed slip inside you, pulse after pulse. He wonders what that feels like. How you feel —

No he does not. One hundred and twenty, one hundred and eighteen, two hundred and eighty six —

“Your turn, Augustus,” Roboute pants, and the next battle brother practically yanks you off his gene-father’s prick. Apparently unbothered by the fact that you are leaking Roboute’s seed down your thighs, like the worst kind of degenerate whore, Augustus crams himself inside, taking you as he stands, one hand supporting your arse, the other holding his cock steady as he lets gravity do its work, sinking you onto him. You squeal with astonishment. 

“S’big,” you slur. All a show — he bets you’ve been dreaming of something like this. Dreaming of an excuse to bed your betters, to spread your legs and take them, to do what you are meant to do. No attempts at diplomacy here, no pretence at being more than you are, just spread thighs and a wet, greedy cunt, and a womb to be filled, and filled again. Disgusting. Disgraceful. 

He’s never been so hard in his entire life. 

He bites the inner part of his cheek, to — to try and avoid shouting at you. That’s it. He wants to shout at you, to call you a filthy little slut for tempting his Primarch so. His battle-brothers should be with an apothecary, being treated for the aftermath of their mission, not here, rutting against you like animals. When Augustus finishes — quicker than he intended, judging by the sound of frustration he makes as his balls gather up and he empties himself inside you — Hadrian and Decimus take ahold of you. The two youngest members of the squad could be twins, with hair that shades more to red than blonde, and the pale skin of Ultramar’s northern, rain-soaked wastes.

”Open your mouth,” says Decimus, and you obey, your tiny lips barely enough to cover the head of the astartes’ purple-flushed cock. “Swallow it, swallow me —“

Meanwhile, Hadrian is positioning you on the lounger, mounting you from behind, trying to ensure your mouth can reach his brother’s cock, but his cock can bury himself inside. It’s an endeavour that should be easy, but you make it difficult — as you always, always do — by squirming and whimpering as Hadrian aims for your cunt, slides on the seed his squad mates have left, and almost sinks into your arse instead. You should let him, Sicarius thinks. You should take him in the arse and thank him, you should take him in the arse and thank him, thank you Cato, my lord, thank you, I’m nothing, I’m —

He grips the gun a little tighter. Shifts from cheek to cheek. Tries to think of the least arousing things he can. Tyranid gene organs, tyranid gene organs — the weird goo that pulses out of a Nurgling when you shoot it — his genefather naked, his genefather buried inside you, his cock distending you, your expression fucked-stupid and slack and — 

Not helping. Not helping. Oh, he hates you, hates, you hates you —

“By the throne, that’s good. How are you still so tight?”

Hadrian has managed to penetrate you at least, and you cannot answer his question, even if you had the brains to: Decimus has his cock in your mouth, your jaw stretched so widely that tendons stand out in your neck, your eyes streaming with effort.

”That’s it — swallow, let me in, going to fuck your face,” Decimus promises, and you keen, with eagerness or distress. Maybe both. Sicarius hopes it is both. He hopes you want it, and hate how you want it, and hate how good you feel —

Count the stitches on the chaise lounge. Count the — the tiles on the floor. Count the number of his battle brothers who have cum inside you. With a low, drawn out groan, Hadrian makes three. And then he’s literally dragged away, Cicero taking his place. 

“You’ve made such a mess,” the astartes coos. You can only manage a gargling slurry of sound, Decimus now making good on his promise, one leg folded under him, the other dangling off the crunch to support him as he starts to hump into your throat. “I wonder if you’ll have a child after this — wonder if you’ll give us a nice little recruit —“

Slicking himself up with the spend pulsing out of you, he pushes in, and you arch your back, popping your hips up, making it easier for him. The sight of you submitting — of you presenting — or maybe the thought of you growing fat with child after this revolting display does something to Decimus, who cums in your mouth. Your throat bulges as his seed spills down inside you, but there is too much to swallow, and you hack and cough it up as he pulls out, your chin sticky and white. 

Decimus huffs, almost sulkily. “Don’t cough it up — lick it up. Go on.”

He gathers his own cum on his fingers, and pushes it onto your tongue. You’re too tired to move at first, but something registers, and you start licking his digits clean with swipes of your kitten pink tongue. Sicarius imagines you crawling to his feet, nuzzling your face against his crotch, begging him to give you a taste, just a taste — he would say no, of course, and backhand you across the face for your whorish temerity, but he would not mind the display. 

Titus is the last to take his due, settling himself down in Decimus’ place, stroking your hair, murmuring soft nonsense to you, like he is comforting you. You don’t need comfort, Sicarius wants to snarl, you want a cock in your throat. All the way down there. That’s what he would do, ram himself into your soft palette and keep going, keep going until your gag reflex was just a helpless little flutter around his shaft —

— that’s what he would do if he were a lesser man, that is. If he were — if he were tainted. If he was ordered. Would Gulliman order him to fuck you? Sicarius’ mouth goes dry at the thought. Maybe he would, maybe his Primarch would see you lying there in a pool of ejaculate and realise what Sicarius has known all along: that you aren’t a diplomat but a whore. That you’re more use to the Legion on your back. That you shouldn’t be using your sweet little tongue to convince xenos to co-operate with the cause of the Emperor, but to lick his balls until he came all over your face. 

Yes. If Gulliman ordered it of him he would. He would not be able to defy his Primarch — such a thing would be tantamount to heresy! He would take you from behind, but yank your head up so he could watch your face as he bullied inside. He would fuck you until even Titus realised that soft words were lost on you. He would —

He would try very hard not to cum in his armour like a neophyte as Titus petted your hair, your lips beginning to bleed from the stretch around his cock. Gulliman has returned to the fray, running his hands along your sides, spreading your cheeks to stare at the ruin they’ve no doubt made of your cunt. Maybe he will turn you about, just a little, so Sicarius can see — 

He does not. That’s fine. It’s fine. 

Instead, the Primarch slides a thumb into your arse, working it in and out, as you shift and mew, face boiled red and slick with drool. Titus’ eyes are closed, his head lolling back with pleasure, heedless of his brother’s impatient commentary. 

“Lieutenant, hurry up, I want her mouth again.”

”Father, Titus is hogging her, make him share.”

Roboute smiles indulgently at his men, now with a finger worked inside you. “Titus, if you don’t mind —?”

”Ah — apologies, my lord.” He strokes your hair back from your face, his fingers tracing the outline of his cock in your throat. “I’m going to cum in your mouth, darling. You can swallow it for me, can’t you?” Wide-eyed, and so eager to please, you nod as best you can. Titus starts moving his hips with intent, the wet glucking sounds of your throat audible even over the Ultramarine’s chatter and the obscene squelch of Roboute’s fingers butterflying you open. 

“That’s it — good girl —“

No sooner has he finished then Roboute snatches you up, arranging you once more on his lap — this time, however, starting to sink into a different hole. Your eyes bug with pain. “Lord —“

”Hush, little one. You can take me. And look!”

He gestures over to Sicarius. 

“Kind Sicarius is keeping watch to ensure nothing goes awry — don’t fret, I know that he does not  like you especially, but he does not wish to see his brothers dishonour themselves by killing you so. Isn’t that right, Sicarius? You’ll watch us most carefully — and I do appreciate it. As, I’m sure, does she.”

The Primarch’s burning eyes meet Sicarius’s over your shoulder as he starts once more to inch his way inside, your body struggling to accommodate him. And then — oh, it must be a trick of the light, or some of your witchery, because he swears that Roboute winks at him. 

[freedelusionshere]

Syd and Carmy are pretty close in age

But had very different experiences in the culinary world. It strikes me the ways in which the show is now requiring them to grow.

Carmy dove into cooking as a way to feel close to Mikey and also show him up because we was made to stay away from The Bear. (I don't think this was just because Mikey was spiraling, I think The Bear was a front for Cicero, but I digress). Carmy already had artistic ambition, like the story about him drawing the super-specific wool tailored pants (I live, what a nerd) which sound very like avant-garde Antwerp shit to me. His aunt owned a restaurant and wanted him to "keep going" and the rest was pretty open doors, a major award, matched with hard work.

Syd had to work at UPS to pay her way through CIA. Her dad is constantly talking about her needing to be financially stable and lets her move in with him, but he''s pressuring her to work at Boeing through a relative connection. Also, Sheridan Road failed and put her in crushing debt, but she worked at an impressive list of restaurants like Avec, but tells Marcus one of them had her zest for eight months. Just, amazing. Syd also dresses in stuff that hints she also likes avante-garde Antwerp-art-school-type shit to me like look at these short wool looking tailored pants she wears in Legacy, ahem (I can't with you, show):

Carmy's flaws are centered around abandonment issues and outdated elitist ideas of what it means to be "the best", and is extremely individualistic and competitive, despite having training that has taught him that's not how kitchens actually work. He's deeply romantic and artistic despite having limited life experience and needs to be more open to learning from others and understand that putting other people above himself instead of competing is what will fulfill him.

Syd is also individualistic, but in the sense that she has had to assume 100% of the risk herself with no one to bail her out. She is right to be wary of bad partners, but the main thing is that it's made her second-guess herself when actually she has good business sense, but not the experience running a full restaurant. Syd is deeply nurturing and a dreamer despite having trust issues and needs to be allowed to not carry the weight of the world on her shoulders solo, to know what she brings to the table (not relying on a partner to do that for her), and that her life experiences are just as valid and actually make her stand apart.

All of this stuff I hope to see explored in Part IV.

[melfinawins]

A little tidbit on Nat. (It turned into other things.) Spoilers for the whole season of The Bear as I'm just a stream of thoughts at this point!

No, helping with childbirth does not heal or bond you to a narc long term. It's a TV show that prides itself on realism but still has a narrative to follow.

I was not moved by Donna that episode. Because in the real world, if Nat's baby has an allergy or some shit, Donna is the type to say that's dumb and kill her own grandchild because she can't be wrong.

Nat has always been empathetic. How did she ignore all the shit she did? I get that she's pregnant, but like... she's not the first person ever to be that way. She never came across as self absorbed to me? She kept on asking Cicero what she could do to stop the hemorrhaging. I don't know, Nat, TELL CARMY NO? If there's no money, there's no money. If he doesn't like that answer tell him to get outside investors who aren't his fucking uncle. Carmy is not an unruly baby, he's a 30 year old man.

Anyone else think these were different characters this season? Beyond just Carmy's regression.

I got the impression that Tiff and Frank had been dating for more than a year or so. In what world would Richie think he should butt out of Evie's life and become a DEAD BEAT DAD just because Josh Hartnett's fine ass got in his face?

Affording a home without the help of parents and being called lonely by your 6 year old means you want to shirk your responsibilities? I know that Richie was concerned about being left behind, but I didn't get the impression that he would abandon his kid. The Richie I grew to know and love would fight heaven and earth for that little girl.

Claire, bitch, I hope you're thriving. Being with Carmy seems like a fate worse than death!

There was such a malaise this season, damn. Moreso from the production side of things--they seemed lost and confused about what they were trying to do. Maybe they should have a sit down in the writer's room, think about why they thought giving 99 percent of the comedy to the Faks and why they DIDN'T HAVE CARMY TRY TO EXPLAIN HIMSELF ONCE OR SEND A SORRY TEXT TO CLAIRE GODDAMN. His inability to face up to his mistakes was tolerable for the first few episodes, but it quickly turned unsympathetic after fucking EVERYONE SAID CARMY LOVED HER and Claire had me siding with her because Carmy didn't tell her shit! He's a big boy and not a baby. Also: HOW LONG IS STORER AND CO GONNA DRAG OUT THE INFANTILIZATION OF THIS GROWN ASS WHITE MAN?

ALSO, WHY COULDN'T WE AT LEAST GET RICHIE AND CARMY MAKING UP?? LITERALLY NOTHING WAS RESOLVED. I feel like if they didn't have season 4 in the bag, this wouldn't be the case.

[yannaryartside]

THE DRIVING METAPHOR

images by @unladyboss

So, there are a lot of mentions of driving in the show, I will do my best to put them all together. 

Carmy doesn't own a car, but he seems a competent driver. We have seen him walking to his home at night multiple times already, particularly in 1x02. We don't know why he doesn't own a car. 

Sydney was a professional driver; however, she described the experience as "the crazy shit that made me do this crazy shit" (talking about the restaurant business). She mentions not owning a car to indicate how much she hasn't accomplished, next to still living with her dad. 

Both Carm and Sydney are the designated drivers of Richie's car.

Both Carmy and Sydney commute by public transit and walking. 

Claire is a terrible driver, but she enjoys the risk of it. Yet, when she is with Carmy, she is the one driving. 

Richie got his license suspended. This could be for many reasons. I think that he may have been intoxicated while driving or had a road incident of some sort, something that happened after finding out about Mickey's death. 

Cicero had a vivid dream of being driving a car out of control while Carm's dad was in the passenger seat. They eventually have to push the brakes to avoid hitting a kid on the road. Carmy's dad went through the windshield at full speed, with the kid waving at him. Many people have speculated if this is some metaphor for Papa Berzatto's addiction. If you are a car, the addiction makes you go out of control. But then, why is Cicero the one driving? I think this may be an analogy for their business, KBL, which supposedly has some dark corners that gave Cicero all his money. Was Papa Berzatto's death something related to KBL? 

Donna, on Christmas night, attempted suicide in front of her children and her whole family by crashing a car through the wall of their home. My God. How the fuck we even begin to unpack all that? If Cicero's dream was more literal, and Donna's attempt had succeeded, both parents of the Berzatto family would have died in car-related incidents.

Sweeps, Tina, and Ebra don't drive.

Marcus drives, and we have to presume he owns a car since Carmy offered him to go to pick out flour in 1x02. Random fact: Marcus mentions sleeping in the restaurant to save time on his commute. How long would his commute be if he owned a car? This may be an indicator of him living way outside of the city. 

THE RESTAURANT IS THE VEHICLE

Carmy is "driving," as in conducting the restaurant his brother and mom previously drove. He is supposed to give "direction," aka purpose, to the passengers so they can move in the same direction. He was supposed to have the wheel and the map on hand.

Her mom wanted to crash it all, the family and the restaurant, giving that burden to his eldest son. 

Carmy doesn't trust himself to control the restaurant or the people, the other passengers in the car, and he finds Sydney and gives her that role. Right after he learned she was a professional driver.

Sydney didn't like driving for ups, the same way she didn't like managing people in her previous jobs, as mentioned at the beginning of Brigade. Still, she takes the wheel.

The people unhappy with the sudden change of driver and direction gave her a bad time.

The most unhappy person with the change was Richie, the most unqualified person to drive because he got his license suspended. His redemption arc was completed when Sydney asked him to call the orders, the passengers listening to him and Sydney's voice. "Richie, drive."

Tina, Ebra, and Sweeps didn't "drive" the restaurant because they still needed to have a purpose and identity. 

DRIVING IS A METAPHOR FOR TAKING OWNERSHIP AND DIRECTION ON YOUR LIFE:

Again, we won't start with Papa and Mama Berzatto wanting to crash it all.

Mickey was Richie's map for finding the love of a family. So Richie had to find a new map and destination. The map was hospitality, based on recognizing his own people skills. 

Carmy let Claire take the wheel of their relationship, again, there is so much to unpack here. But she is a terrible driver and doesn't seem concerned about how her recklessness behind the wheel may affect others. Sydney, again, was a professional driver. Is this supposed to be a message of people with addictions or trying to heal from them, surrounding themselves with people who have direction, vs the reckless ones? I will take this as a chef-kiss victory.

Sydney wants full ownership and the capacity to make her path. That is why she wants her own car.

Why does Carmy keep failing/avoiding the role of the person behind the wheel? Is there something related to Richie calling him Donna, who tried to take her own life behind the wheel?

Is Carmy dealing with some hidden addiction? check @unladyboss theories about Carmy being a high-functioning alcoholic in this post, they got me sweating at night.

[yangsharperavery]

i do find the contrast between body language/nonverbal communication and verbal communication with these two so fascinating.

especially as carmy and sydney navigate each other in a space where there's clearly something that exists between them that one, or both of them, aren't conscious of yet.

as they struggle so significantly with verbal communication, we see the way they use nonverbal communication via their bodies and mannerisms and facial expressions to convey how they feel and what they want.

what sticks out to me is the way that carmy shakes and nods his head when he and sydney are having a serious, intimate or important conversation.

as if he knows himself well enough to know that his verbal agreement or response would fall short so he simply moves his head in affirmation. letting his energy convey the rest.

this is also part of why he uses his gaze and eye contact the way that he does. he's speaking to her without words.

they often stand so close to one another. like... all the time.

in many of their scenes, one could say this is a stylistic or director's choice for the shot but that makes zero sense because the shots with everyone else don't have that level of physical closeness except for some of the obvious kitchen (behind!) scenes. carmy and sydney's closeness is almost tactile even though they only touch a handful of times.

which is why the wall tear down scene is so amusing because they literally had no reason to be in each others face like that.

carmy got in her space, looked at the demo/the guys before he turned back to sydney, but she only moved away from him after they made eye contact and she said "yeah, exactly".

as if it was super normal for him to be that close to her, whether he was looking at her or not.

the under the table moment is incredibly intimate for a number of reasons. they're already incredibly close because there's not a lot of space under there, but not only do they situate and move their bodies within the confines of that space notating physical proximity, carmy reaches out and fiddles with her side of the table, which posits her energetically directly underneath him. not just beside him.

conceptually, that is almost the closest he could be to her without actively touching her.

nevermind that moments later his fidgeting hand starts to quicken when she looks up at him and they have that moment of prolonged eye contact.

again, a form of nonverbal communication practically shouting. she can't see his hand, but we do.

the wordlessness of that particular moment, especially after they had managed to say some of the most vulnerable, affirming and comforting phrases they'd ever uttered to one another up to that point (their best verbal communication yet), is pretty extraordinary.

when they're talking about the veal fat in s1, and she's reaching over her head and says the right answer and he turns to look at her, they're SO physically close.

when they're cooking at his apt and he's cutting tape, he's so physically close to her, his shoulder is practically leaning into hers when she teases him about the chef's whites.

even in the meeting with cicero, if you look at the three of them sitting behind the table, sydney is closer to carmy than nat and carmy has his arm out, mere centimeters from sydney's elbow.

before they start their back and forth about stars, when sydney says "we're going to be better", their arms are practically touching.

even when she's walking out after saying goodnight and carmy gitches, she walks so close to him to leave. his body fully turns to accommodate and follow her energy, she almost literally physically brushes past him.

claire kind of moves out of the way but sydney walks into carmy's space and he moves his focus/attention with her as she exits.

if you watch it happen, he acquiesces to her energy and presence like a human revolving door. again, nonverbal communication.

the doorframe isn't that narrow. she could have easily said whatever polite thing to claire and not gotten THAT close to carmy to say "i'm saying goodnight."

there are a bunch of examples of their physical closeness that doesn't make sense outside of gravitational pull, a desire to be that close to one another and nonverbal communication.

sydney's body language after the under the table moment and before receiving her gift is also a huge tell, even though it's not directed at, or meant to be communicative towards, him. she's clearly impacted by what occurred.

of the two, i think sydney is the closest to realizing that what exists between them is far beyond professional likeness, purpose or partnership.

the way she's obviously trying not to get mad at him when she says "well tell claire thanks then", you physically can see her stuffing something down.

even carmy can see it, he says something about it. sydney actually does this alot with carmy specifically, ayo is so damn skilled at it.

we've seen her get mean or be reactionary with richie, tina and marcus.

but never carmy. even when she walked out on him s1, in the midst of a highly emotionally volatile scene, she didn't raise her voice.

that's why she doesn't argue with or lash out at carmy, even though it's often warranted, she doesn't want to hurt him. doesn't want to make him feel bad. doesn't want to be angry or annoyed with him.

but why? she has no problem being upfront and direct and again, even argumentative if she needs to be. but never with carmy.

to me, it seems like she doesn't want to display too much emotion with or in front of him.

but why? does the range and depth of those emotions scare her? are they messy? are they warranted? are they illuminating?

sydney is very protective of carmy (and of herself emotionally). see how she reacts when richie talks shit or when her father questions her trust in him. or even when nat makes that snide remark after he gets locked in the walk in.

she cares a lot about carmy's emotional and mental fragility and feelings.

when she came back to "get her check" they don't hash it out or fight. he just stares at her, with this unbridled relief that he can't articulate but we all see it! it's so obvious he can't even start speaking right away.

and then he launches into talking about the dining space for a new restaurant and she forgot why she was mad.

it's like when the person you have a crush on does something cute or sweet and the dumb or mean thing they did right before it completely leaves your mind.

none of this is written in the dialogue of this show. it's all nonverbal communication, toward each other or to us, the audience.

[brokenwinebox]

Mikey Told Claire About The Bear? Part 2

This won’t be an overall long post, but this is technically another segment to my meta on the question about Claire and her strange and seemingly out of place connection to knowing the name of The Bear.

Everything has gotten only weirder because of the confirmation that Claire and Donna were somewhat connected since the first episode of meeting them with the scripts and interview articles.

I personally never found the connection to Donna/Claire straight away until the Fishes episode. Although, in the aftermath of my dissertation, the scripts, and the interviews, I’ve been looking at certain things with a different perspective.

We know that Donna called him Michael after being asked to go to the dinner table by Carmy. I speculated that this Logan persona could actually just be Mikey’s personality because of Carmy’s grief.

What’s generally dark about Claire’s character gets even worse when you think on the theory of Mikey telling Claire about The Bear. I believe I’ve talked about this to some degree but the scale or magnitude of its meaning almost went completely over my head.

Donna literally called Carmy after her eldest son when asked to go to the dinner table. Carmy can’t even be his own person without being compared to Mikey. If it was Mikey’s personality he was emulating for the Logan persona, this means that Carmy felt like he couldn’t be himself at the party and Claire didn’t realize it. She was, instead, entertained by it.

(Not to mention, Neil Fak called Mikey his best friend in the very first episode of the show. Who is Neil Fak’s best friend now?)

If Claire shares attributes with Donna, who has a history (no matter how brief) of not acknowledging Carmy’s care for her as his own, then how much has Claire been projecting Mikey onto Carmy like Donna?

Anyway, here’s a video compilation of Carmy/Mikey being Neil Fak’s best friend and the weird coincidences on my theory about the Logan/Mikey personality that I already talked about in a separate post but decided to do it here in video format:

Credit to @spywhitney for catching Cicero calling Mikey an animal!

Massive Update: I made this post on August 16th. Now, I have to update the things that just clicked for me. @fresaton made a reblog about Natalie, Claire, and Carmy on @whenmemorydies’s original post about the claw, the scrunchie and the prayer card. We’re going to talk about this here since I was going to post this anyway. This feels super speculative on my part but work with me here lol. I’m going to try to connect all the dots to literally all my previous metas about Claire.

The Dinner Table

In the episode where we constantly jump in time, did they potentially skip a scene between Claire and Carmy? He looks at his scar, which is something we know is connected to Mikey, before leaving to go to The Bear. Claire and Carmy also share a scene together about that particular scar before Claire talks about the injured girl.

I have two metas on that scene. The first being about the strange topic of glass between Donna and Claire and the second was about Claire and her weird connection to mold from the scripts which also happened to have a Donna/Claire parallel.

If he did have dinner with Claire, then the reveal of Mikey telling her about The Bear could’ve happened then.

Thinking on the second episode of season three, he mentioned how he wanted them to see what they’re capable of. Sydney immediately asked who those people are.

Sydney: “Why?” Carmy: “So they can see what we’re capable of.” Sydney: “Who’s ‘they’?”

In the first part of this meta that’s linked with the title above, I noticed Carmy did the same thing when Carmy and Claire were talking by the grocery store fridges. My previous thoughts will be in italics except the dialogue as always.

Carmy: “No, I don’t think we even…We didn’t even tell anybody what the name was.” Claire: “You one hundred perfect told me the name.” Carmy: “How could you remember the name?”

The question that Carmy should have asked is how she even knew it in the first place?

Notice he said he doesn’t think THEY (Carmy and Mikey) told anyone?

Carmy literally said in the s1 finale, he realized he didn’t even know anything about him. Why would Carmy be that confident in a person he admitted to not knowing? Was it disbelief?

Is it possible the “they” that Carmy is referring to could be Chef David, Claire, and Mikey? Especially when you think on what Carmy was thinking of in the season three finale.

What gets even stranger is what I said about the “Let it Rip” reference. I mentioned that Mikey could’ve been referenced in the second episode of season three because of the weird similarities to the season 1 finale panic attack scene before the thoughts of food calmed Carmy down and Sydney getting lost in the food before Tina intercepted it.

I kind of talk about Tina specifically and how she could be the physical mother figure to Marcus and Sydney to prevent them from getting possessed on @moodyeucalyptus’s post as well.

Another question is did Claire reference to something that Carmy knew wasn’t about him in the dinner scene the same way Donna called him Michael before going to the dinner table? I had also mentioned before that it was strange that Claire would just leave Carmy in the fridge without really caring about his health as a doctor. Does this mean she came back like Sydney did? There always seem to be mirroring going on.

(We also have Ted Fak saying that everyone else is good with Claire except Carmy in the Next episode.)

The timeline is very confusing to me. If Claire came back briefly, then they could’ve set up the dinner date potentially. I went to check on Claire’s text messages because it would make sense to see what messages were previously exchanged between them.

@fresaton, you mentioned that the dinner happened on 05-30-23, I personally couldn’t see a date to the texts but I read the messages as much I could and their last exchange (from what we know) is about friends and family. There’s also the fact that I have no clue when this scene exactly happened. This would have to be after the “dinner” scene right?

We see Carmy on the train and walking (fairly similar to how season three ended) while Claire takes off her makeup and cuddles with Kelly. Between that is Sydney apologizing to Marcus on the phone about his mother and Mikey asking about the restaurant idea Carmy has.

All of this to say, if there was a dinner between them then Claire and Carmy probably would’ve had to see each other physically before meeting for dinner.

The Hauntings Of The Berzatto Siblings

Before preparing themselves for the Christmas dinner and Donna, the Berzatto siblings are out sharing a cigarette before going into the chaos.

In previous metas, I’ve discussed how Claire and Carmy’s relationship always goes back to Fishes.

Now after @whenmemorydies and @fresaton’s metas, We’re going to look at the weird connections between them with cigarettes.

In the first installment of this meta, I noticed that Mikey goes outside and Richie notices it. I thought it had alluded to Claire finding out about The Bear because Carmy sees her outside on Christmas night.

I already talked about how Richie is a fox and a caterpillar who potentially slipped the prayer card into Carmy’s pocket like Natalie did with the money. Not to mention, Richie also witnessed the Berzatto siblings smoking outside of the house before going back inside.

Richie: “Yo! Is this some family shit I should know about?” (2x06)

Carmy apologized to Richie and said he loved him before squashing a cigarette. The only time we've seen Carmy actually smoke for season three was on Christmas night where the moment between Carmy and Claire took place and when they share a cigarette together.

In my dissertation about Claire, I also found some interesting dialogue between Richie and Mikey about their morning after story. This was after Mikey came back from being outside.

Mikey: “Things are really starting to spiral out of fucking control.” Richie: “Oh, we are past the point of no return.” Mikey: “It’s not good. And now it’s the next morning right? We’re like fucking rocked.” Richie: “Rocked!” Mikey: “Like, I look over at him, I’m like, well Jesus fucking Christ, man.” Richie: “I’m looking at you and I don’t even recognize you at that point.” Mikey: “It’s like a monster.” Richie: “Yeah, cause you look like a fucking monster. Couldn’t even tell it was you.”

I had said this could be connected to s3 Carmy before the season aired. Carmy wasn’t very recognizable this season some would argue.

What if Mikey's haunting was The Beef and The Bear? He actively cut Carmy off when Carmy wanted to be apart of the family establishment. It gets even worse when you think on the jealously and resentment for Carmy being able to dream when Mikey couldn’t. Did Mikey tell Claire about The Bear in rebellion like Carmy did with the meal?

Did Carmy find out and that’s why he’s avoiding Mikey’s presence?

He, instead, wants to show what The Bear is capable of by subtracting and pushing. Is Mikey haunting the people around Carmy to get through to him? Mikey is sort of known for subtracting Carmy out of his life but pushes him when he thinks something is good for him.

Claire is also known for her pushing type of personality that caused her to become a very controversial character on the show.

For Natalie’s hauntings, it’s very interesting because we don’t actually see her smoke the cigarette before it jump cuts to Mikey smoking the cigarette. I’d assume Donna and Mikey are a major role in hers.

There was a connection I made to Natalie, Claire, Donna, and Carmy earlier.

Although, I also found parallels between Sydney and Natalie. Donna talks about a dream she had about a fish tank and when she woke up, her water broke (Natalie was born.)

I immediately had the idea that Natalie is a fish like Sydney. It feels speculative but something could be there. One thing I do know for sure though is that we don’t see Natalie or Sydney smoking the cigarette in their hands. It automatically cuts before we witness them smoking at all.

I’ve also talked about the parallel between Sydney, Luca, Claire, and Carmy. They both have best friend dialogue and a cigarette moment it seems.

For Carmy’s hauntings, it could be a whole combination of people and things, honestly. The Beef, The Bear, Chef David, Mikey, Claire, Sydney, Marcus, etc.

I’ve mentioned before that Carmy is the magician and Claire is the illusion but for the sake of my sanity, I’m not talking about that here. This is already getting far longer than I intended.

I had a brief theory about how the cigarettes could be representative of reality and avoidance for season three.

I talked about this with @thoughtfulchaos773 but I just haven’t gotten further into this yet. Although, I now might have a different theory on that. The Faks are involved in this too but I’m focused on The Berzattos at the moment. Maybe I’ll get into them later.

I have like two metas that I’ve been working on that’s a bit similar to this one as well. I just got consumed with this one very quickly.

On the topic of The Faks, @currymanganese has a meta on The Faks being Claire’s henchmen!

I’m also linking @whenmemorydies’s recent meta on Carmy, Natalie, and the Berzattos. I haven’t read it in its entirety but it could be similar to mine!

As always thank you so much for reading!! As I said before, this felt very speculative on my part. Maybe I'll make another meta to elaborate on everything. I hope this all made sense! Notice how I said in the beginning that this won’t be an overall long post? You could definitely tell I wasn’t planning all of this lmao. Oh well!

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

BACKFIRE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

So let’s get this straight once and for all because it’s frankly getting on my nerves that no one sees it or twists it soooo blatantly:

When Miss Adamu said: SHE’S NOT EVEN YOUR GIRLFRIEND?!?! *eye rolling like the queen she is*

She didn’t mean to force Carmy to define or “label” Claire Nolastname or upgrade her from “girl who’s a friend” to Girlfriend. NOOOO!

THAT WAS HOW IT BACKFIRED ON HER because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut as a non-jealous woman would totally be capable of doing because she wouldn’t be triggered by the fact that the man she has started to (even though she's not nearly ready to admit it yet) develop feelings for or feels attracted to in a “crossing the line” kinda way, is sharing something soooo important, sooo significant, so THEIRS, as the menu of THEIR restaurant with a girl he’s just fucking… because for Syd, if Claire is not his GF, then he’s just fucking her. She’s a flint.

So THAT is what sent Syd. She didn't mean to make Carmy decide shit! about his relationship with this girl, but that’s what ended up happening. It backfired on her. Still, it was definitely unintentional on her part.

Because Carmy took the easy way out, he upgraded Claire to GF status so as not to have to face the fact that he was indeed sharing something so important WITH THE WRONG WOMAN, and in that way, he didn't have to face his true feelings for his partner like a man. He ran away with Claire, his sudden GF, as an easy way out, to hide behind that relationship. Period. We all know how that backfired for him in the back alley though...

He sensed that if he kept “working on the menu” with Syd at his place, cooking together and sharing more time outside the restaurant, they were gonna get too close because he wasn’t gonna be able to help it, he wasn’t gonna be strong enough to fight it if they kept building intimacy in the way they were doing it. Food is their link, they get closer through that, it is the passion they share.

That's why they are opening a restaurant together!

And that is why when Claire barged into his life uninvited - unlike Syd who was invited, as we can clearly see above - after he didn't remember her name and gave her the wrong number, and even hesitated in giving her the ride she conveniently "needed" to move her thriving mother's boxes to the storage, Carmy and Syd stopped cooking together and sharing food -The Kasamagate-.

In other words, Carmy and Syd stopped building intimacy together when Claire showed up, he enabled it, of course, because of the aforementioned reasons, until the under-the-table scene, where HE DID MAKE A DECISION after talking to Cicero and deciding to BE THAT GUY, not just for himself, but for Syd and with Syd.

And that is why that beautiful scene was musicalized like THIS.

And lastly, that is why once they were back, there was no more room for Claire in his life and well... Bye Felicia. Even though he managed to still dodge the bullet of having an adult conversation with her and let her down easy, she just overheard him because AGAIN she went in uninvited and got in the BOH at the "wrong time". She was just trying to see if he needed help because her ER brain immediately went to hypothermia, granted. But still... She was uninvited there and that´s why she ended up overhearing him and getting her heart broken.

Bonus track: Let's not forget who was on his mind before he freaked out like that, who he thought he had let down.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[argisthebulwark]

I'm Glad I Get Forever

summary: Asking your partner if they'll fall for someone else after you've died. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Teldryn, Balimund, Mercer, Farkas, Vilkas, Miraak, Arnbjorn, Brynjolf, Cicero warnings: non graphic mentions of death/grief obv masterlist

Yes

Teldryn ponders the question, feet propped comfortably on your lap. He enjoys evenings like this; sharing a bottle of wine miles from the nearest town, nothing but the stars to keep you company. For weeks you'd swapped stories until there was nothing left to tell - you knew each other too well. Asking each other questions became an easy way to stave off boredom. "I suppose." He sighs, watching your brows raise. "We both know you'd give me some deathbed speech about how you want me to keep living, cursing me to seek a new patron willing to drag me across Tamriel. Can't have my talents going to waste." He's right, of course. Teldryn's always right.

Balimund knows he will never seek out romance - he hadn't even sought you out, merely a series of happy accidents that led you into his heart. A blacksmith made a fair partner for a warrior, romance blossoming over years spent haggling over his forge. "If it happened organically, don't think I'd sabotage it." He muses, stretching out the sore muscles in his shoulder. The thought of you passing makes him feel a bit ill but he brushes past it, trusting in armor crafted by his own hands to keep you safe. "You'll always be my heart, but I've got a feelin' you wouldn't want me to end up alone."

Mercer says yes, the lie slipping easily between gritted teeth. He's already let you get too close and he can't pass up the perfect opportunity to force a bit of distance. He refuses to let you know the horrible truth he harbors deep in his chest - he cares for you. Rolling his eyes he pointedly ignores the cute divot between your brows. "Of course." He lies, panic clawing at his throat at the mere thought of losing you. "Maybe I'll find someone who bothers me less."

Farkas has to sit with your question, rolling it around in his mind. His gut reaction is to refuse - no one else could capture his heart as you have, right? Though, he hadn't expected to fall for you either. It could happen again. "Maybe a few decades later, after I've mourned and all that." He offers, though he simply cannot see a future for himself without you; your home built together, your family growing with age, your hands healing every little wound. It is only you. "Seems unlikely for you to go first, though."

No

Vilkas declines without a second thought. He doesn't even look up from his book, apparently unfazed by your question. There's a cute flush creeping up his cheeks, though you bite back the urge to comment on it. "I know you'd haunt me." He mutters, kissing your knuckles. "I'll keep an eye out for your ghost, though. Don't think that would count as seeing someone else."

Miraak is disgusted by the thought. He cannot fathom living life alone once more, the idea of another partner taking your place making him feel sick. You'd carved out space in his old heart, no other could fill the void left by your absence. "Each of my days would be too heavy without you, my love." Intense as always, he clutches your face. "You are the sole resident of my heart. I fear that I would not last long in this life without you - I would soon follow you into whatever afterlife will accept my tainted soul."

Arnbjorn rolls his eyes at your question. It's quite fun getting under his skin, though you keep that thought to yourself. Even if you know he will never harm you, he is sharpening a freshly formed dagger. "I didn't even want to fall for you, I'm not doing this again." He grunts, pointedly ignoring your excited gasp. "You're it for me." "I had no idea you could be sweet." "Shut it." He snarks, the blunt edge of his blade swinging toward where you're perched on his workbench. "Or your death will become more than a hypothetical."

Brynjolf's heart cannot withstand another, losing you would be too much. Your words remind him of those awful days he thought Mercer had stolen you from him - the pit he'd fallen into, the despair sitting so heavily on his chest. He cannot imagine living with the gnawing, ceaseless pain your loss would create once more. "Never." He doesn't find the humor in your question, holding you a bit tighter to his chest when you fall into bed. There is no one else for him. Brynjolf's known this for ages, you are the love of his life.

Cicero giggles at your question - how silly! His funny Listener, no one else can ever measure up to you. Only you understand him. Mother's chosen, his most beloved Listener, you are love to him. "Funny Listener, don't make Cicero laugh." He sighs, pinching at your cheeks. "Your jokes have gotten better - it seems you're taking after your favorite jester!" "I was serious." "Never, ever, ever, ever!" He sings, planting a kiss on your nose. "Only my silly Listener, forever and ever."

[whitegoldtower]

How my favourite Skyrim NPCs sleep:

Ancano: In the college? Miserably. Spends most of the night irritable and on the verge of tears because everything’s damp and cold. Avoids his room as much as physically possible until he’s practically asleep on his feet. If you’ve taken him home with you, however, he will sleep like a baby. He doesn’t move around, doesn’t make a sound, merely curls up all soft and warm. He tolerates about half an hour of cuddling before shooing you away.

Ondolemar: Values his beauty sleep, strangely enough. He works late, but also sleeps late. He’s never been seen walking around the keep any earlier than 10AM. He snores and drools. Doesn’t enjoy being cuddled because he gets too warm. There is a barrier of pillows between you both.

Cicero: If you can even get him to sleep in the first place, he’s a little angel for the first two hours. Not a peep. Perfectly still… and then his leg jerks. He giggles, then wails, then rolls over about three times before becoming peaceful again for another thirty minutes before the process repeats. There’s a dagger under his pillow. An accident waiting to happen. If you’re brave enough to sleep next to him, you’re probably going to wake up with bruises from being kicked.

Vingalmo: has his hair wrapped up in the finest silks to sleep. The only vampire who sleeps with his legs dangling out of either side of the coffin - he likes the feeling of the cold draught on his feet and, for some reason, sleeping with his knees touching is a sensory issue. If you’re in the coffin with him, your only option is to lay on top of him because he is an utter starfish.

Teldryn Sero: Menopausal Mer, my beloved. Kicks the covers off because hot flashes are hell, and sleeps against the wall with his legs pressed against the cold surface like a fucked up little spider. The sheets are almost always damp. If you’re sleeping next to him, he won’t bother you, and might even lean over to give you a little kiss if he wakes up in the night, but at some point you will roll over and feel some foreign object underneath you before realising that he keeps Ye Olde Dwemer Lost Mary in the bed with him.

Neloth: peepaw is back and forth the fucking toilet like clockwork. You HAVE to sleep against the wall because if he wakes up and has to climb over you to get out of bed he will make it your problem. You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen and grunting before he comes back to bed with a magelight bright enough to light up blackpool fucking tower, and then he promptly rips the covers off you to keep himself warm.

Erandur: is a cuddler. He will cuddle you and keep you safe and warm, will make sure that you’re all tucked in and comfy, and he will fall asleep after you do. You wake up before him, though, and he’s probably snuggling a pillow with the bedcovers up around his ears.

Elenwen: has to wear an eye mask because she sleeps with her eyes open. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t even look like she’s breathing. Is she even alive? You question as you lean over, and then she draws in a large breath, sighs, and makes a vaguely disgusted sound before rolling over. Occasionally chuckles in her sleep. She does cricket legs under the blankets to get comfy and will 100% put her feet on you, either to cool them down or to subject them to a new texture.

Lydia: likes to spread out and doesn’t like to share. If you do end up sharing, make sure those bedsheets are fucking safety pinned down because she rips ass like a champ. Other than that, she’s pretty cuddly once adjusted to having you next to her, and doesn’t kick around or make too many noises. It would take a literal bomb going off to wake her up once she’s asleep, and she *will* get pissed off if you wake her up and it’s not important.

Farkas: is actually really fucking funny. You can hold a conversation with him. He has a really specific ‘sleep chuckle’ which is literally the Skyrim NPC laugh in his voice (the “heh heh heh”). However, he also sometimes makes some rather lewd sounds. Dude whimpers. He’s a professional little spoon (which is funny considering his stature), and adores being cuddled from behind. Also loves having his back rubbed - it will send him to sleep.

[jester-showdown]

Jester showdown: Finale

art of beloved by heaartshaped

[ID: Two pictures on a split blue and red background. On the Left, a drawing of beloved wearing a yellow and red puffy-sleeved shirt. They are holding a scepter and looking to the right with a neutral expression. The drawing is surrounded by a yellow frame. On the right, Cicero. Between them it says "VS" in flaming text /end ID]

reasons sublitters gave for why you should vote for each of the contestants

Beloved

The Fool is a jester in a court for most of the first trilogy and wears a black and white motley. He's witty, sarcastic and weird (he has a scepter with a dead rat on it named Ratsy). She's sometimes a woman named Amber and says that all the "plumbing" is not important.They're very private and we learn their real name (Beloved) 4 books into the series. They can see possible futures and wants to change the course of the world to make it better. He manipulates people and even his best friend Fitz in order to do that, but he feels very guilty about it. He's the most character ever and I love him.

Cicero

The reason why Cicero was forced to retire from assassinations, was because he was appointed as The Keeper of The Night Mother's corpse.Who is a religious figure within the assassin's guild, The Dark Brotherhood.

The Dark Brotherhood was falling, and Cicero ended up alone with two other living people. During said years, Cicero was desperate to hear The Night Mother's voice, but only ended up with laughter instead.Cicero recognised the laughter as the jester's, and accept it as his friend and gift from The Night Mother. Is still hesitant though, and wants to hear The Night Mother's voice

After the final member aside from Cicero dies, he fully embraces the laughter and becomes a jester himself.

[bakuliwrites]

Video Game Fanfiction Table of Contents

Disclaimer: 18+, Minors DNI!!!!!!

Baldur's Gate 3

Just to Be Held (M): Astarion x Tav, His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away? Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Tumblr, AO3

The Elder Scrolls

Devotion (18+): Cicero x Listener, He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again. Cicero is unsure of this new Listener, but his feelings are muddled and confusing. What will happen when the Listener is forced to choose to take or spare his life? Tumblr, AO3.

Legend of Zelda

Ebb and Flow (18+): Prince Sidon x Reader, “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep? Tumblr, AO3.

Stardew Valley

Love Letters (18+): Elliott x Reader, My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement. Elliott returns home from his book tour and the Farmer has a sultry surprise for him. Tumblr, AO3.

Dark Souls

Lunar Halo (18+): Gwyndolin x OC, Gods do not require witnesses. So in the sanctity of the Holy Church of Anor Londo, Gwyndolin weds a mortal woman, a marriage that takes place with sightless statues and eyeless stained glass figures for guests. Veiled by cloth woven of moonlight, Gwyndolin guides his Beloved Star to the altar. Her robes are redolent of the night that enshrouds the earth, glimmering diamonds and sweeping swathes of indigo pooling around her feet as she glides up the aisle. Iridescent moonstone enamels her hand and with the promise of fealty, of love for eternity, the Dark Sun is wed. And a mortal has been anointed his wife. A tale of how the Dark Sun came to love a woman born of the Dark Soul. AO3

Fire Emblem

Restless (18+): Xander x F!Reader, As leader of the combined Hoshidan and Nohrian armies, you find yourself growing restless one night, plagued with troubling thoughts. You decide some fresh air and quiet reflection under the stars might do you some good; but, you run into Xander, also lost in thought, and decide to spend some time together. AO3

Slip Away (18+): Xander x Gender-Neutral Reader, Xander finds himself unable to unwind at his birthday party, until a certain someone whisks him away. Tumblr, AO3

To Walk a Path of Light (M): Jeritza von Hrym x GN!Byleth, Jeritza’s desire for Byleth was sparked long before the goddess had even conceived of either of their forms. Their fates have always been intertwined... Long after the war has ended, Jeritza seeks out a familiar face, while the Death Knight seeks a battle. Tumblr, AO3

Gentle (18+): Jeritza Von Hrym x OC, "She is soft. And in her softness, she dissolves whatever sharpness, whatever edge I have. In perfumed sheets and gilded sunlight, I am, for a moment, vulnerable. My gentility clambers out from where it's been buried deep for so many years. The Death Knight dies in her embrace, and from him blooms a new creature." Jeritza finds himself drawn to one of Garreg Mach's newest professors. Tumblr: Chapter 1, AO3