#do the bartman

[excitementshewrote]

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Edward Scissorhands (1990, Tim Burton)

15/07/2024

[itsa90skidthing]

[thecittiverse]

"Homer was yelling and mom was too. Because I put mothballs in the beef stew."

Frinktober 2023 Day 27: Simpsons sing the Blues

Bart from his 90s gangsta' rap anthem; "Do the Bartman."

See the whole prompt list here.

[90smovies]

[scansfrommagazinesandbooks]

[daveydoodle]

Watch "Do the Bartman music video - The Simpsons" on YouTube

❤️ 🎶 😂 🤣

[duranduratulsa]

Do the Bartman music video - The Simpsons

90's Fest Song 🎵 of the day: Do The Bartman by The Simpsons (1992) from The Simpsons Sing The Blues #thesimpsons #dothebartman #bartsimpson #thesimpsonssingtheblues #michaeljackson #ripmichaeljackson #90s #90sfest #durandurantulsas3rdannual90sfest

[thxrunaways]

Mental illness part 2

[dcxdpdabbles]

Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Running in the Dark

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4139

Summary: The reader’s work as a decoy for one of Matt’s clients puts her in some hot water with her boyfriend- as well as a jealous ex-husband who has connections more dangerous than anyone could have imagined. 

Notes: This one honestly came about when I was walking around my campus at night. I literally pictured Matt watching over me from the top of the Humanities building. Yes, I am doing fine, how are you?

Warnings: Violence, general peril (I just love making the reader get herself into trouble, don’t I?)

More Matt Murdock: HERE

-

You knew he was there. Your eyes scanned the rooftops of the buildings enclosing you. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel him. Standing. Watching. Waiting. You could practically hear his frustrated pacing, his furious objections.

“This is a bad idea. There are other ways. Safer ways. You don’t need to do this.” 

All things he had said before tonight. 

But this was about more than just playing decoy so a woman could be free of her abusive ex-husband. 

This was about what that piece of shit could do for them. 

You may not have been able to hear him, but you knew he could hear you. So, as you pulled Nancy Bartman’s door closed and your hood further over your face- careful to let your hair show- you muttered up at the figure hiding in the shadows. 

“Back. Off.” 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. 

Jogging at night in Hell’s Kitchen alone was a risk all on its own. Every alley you passed seemed to lurk with some unseen threat. Every shifting sound put you on edge. 

God, you were turning into Matt. 

You turned the corner to the street where Detective Morrow was waiting in a dark Sudan. If this didn’t work, everything could go back to square one. They had to catch this guy. You had to catch this guy. He knew something. Nancy wouldn’t say what, but you could tell she was holding something back. Bartman was the key. You could just feel it. 

The Sudan crept forward, keeping far enough away to not look suspicious, but close enough to give you a crumb of comfort. 

You could do this. 

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Says the one who misses date night to go after crime bosses.”

You couldn’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when this was over. His mild annoyance of being wrong overshadowed by pride. Proud that his girlfriend had made a difference. That you had not only helped a woman in need but also got them one step closer to catching the bigger villain here. Fisk. 

You could do this. 

A hand pulled you into the alley. 

“Did you think it would be this easy, Nance?” Corey Bartman hissed into your ear, pinning you against the brick. “Did you think you could just leave me like that?”

You lifted your head, letting your hood fall back. “You’re never going to hurt your wife again, Corey,” you spat. 

The man’s eyes widened, then filled with rage. “Why you little bitch-”

You heard the flick of a switchblade. 

“Corey Bartman, you’re under arrest!” Detective Morrow’s boomed. 

Corey flipped you around, arm across your chest, and switchblade at your throat. Morrow raised her gun, as did the other cops. 

No no no, you needed him alive. 

“Drop the knife, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow ordered. “This is not how you want this to end.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Corey,” you muttered, trying to swallow without cutting yourself. You lowered your voice to a whisper, your words meant for a different presence. You could feel him, looming from one of the above rooftops. If Corey went any further, he would reveal himself and that would be a whole other problem.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What did you say to me?” Corey snapped, tugging you closer. The blade dug just enough into your neck to break skin. You winced. 

Matt would smell the blood. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said again, hoping he would listen. 

“You can come back from this, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow said. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours. “But not if you hurt her.”

You gave her a small nod, feeling the blood drip down your neck. 

Bartman gripped you, his hot breath on your ear. “This isn’t over.” 

He let you go. 

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief, pushing yourself away from him as Morrow pushed him against the wall and cuffed him. 

“You okay, Y/L/N?” She asked. “Theo, call a bus!”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. “Really. It’s just a scratch.” 

She handed Morrow off to another officer to put him in the car. “Are you sure? That looks like it hurts.”

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t help,” you smirked. 

“Yeah well, go get yourself a drink then.” She gave you a smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You earned it.” She started to walk away, turning back. “I expect you bright and early at the station to give a statement though.”

You gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Morrow joined the rest of her team. You sagged back against the wall. 

“I know you’re there,” you breathed out. 

A gloved hand pulled you further into the alley, out of sight from the others. The hand lifted to your neck, just below your new wound. 

“He hurt you,” Matt growled. His other hand held onto your arm, holding you to him. “Morrow shouldn’t have let it get that far. He could have…” Matt trailed off. What if Bartman had done worse? What if he didn’t have time to stop him? 

“Hey,” you said softly, laying your own hand on his cheek, feeling the fabric of the mask under your fingers. “I’m okay.” You checked to make sure no one was coming, then brought his lips down to yours. When you pulled back again, you were smiling. “We got him.” 

Matt couldn’t help but return your grin. “You got him.” 

“I told you I would.” You poked his chest teasingly. “It was unwise to doubt me.”

“I never said I doubted you.”

“It was heavily implied,” you laughed, making yourself wince from the sting in your neck. 

Matt’s expression softened under his mask. “Come on. We should get that cleaned.”

You didn’t argue this time, letting him lead you back home. 

-

It had been a long night for both of you. By the time you got back to Matt’s apartment, exhaustion sagged in your shoulders and weighed in his steps. You breathed in the familiar air like you were drinking water in the desert. Matt’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you to the couch while he grabbed his first aid kit. 

“Really, Matt, it’s just a scratch,” you insisted. 

He didn’t listen, finding a cloth to dab at the now-drying blood on your neck. You winced a little, the alcohol stinging the open cut. 

Neither of you said anything. The silence hurt more than the cut did. 

“I know you’re upset,” you started softly. “But I told Nancy I would help to keep her safe. Now, she is.” 

Matt stayed quiet, putting the kit away. 

“Matt, please. I knew what I was doing.” You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm. “And I knew you were there, watching over me. I knew that I was safe.” 

In one quick motion, Matt pulled you into his arms. It almost felt like he was shaking. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered into your hair. “Please.” 

You sat, shocked for a second. Then, you wrapped your arms around him, running a soothing hand up his back. 

“I’ll try my best,” you teased, pulling away to look into those perfect dark, unfocused eyes. “I’m okay, Matty.” 

Matt’s hands cupped your face, gently bringing your lips to his as if to remind himself you were here. You weren’t hurt, not too badly anyway. He hadn’t lost you. You were here. 

“I’m okay,” you said again against his lips. 

Matt pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. 

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow thanks to you.”

You bit your lip to contain your giggling. “You’re welcome.” 

Matt’s hand found the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

You leaned into his touch. “You’re right, though.” You pulled away from him, smirking. “We really should get some sleep.” 

His head fell back against the couch, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Matt listened as the zipper of your sweatshirt, the fabric brushing over your skin as you took it off, walking toward the bedroom. 

“Are you coming or not?” You asked. 

In a blink, Matt was on his feet and following. 

-

Tangled limbs, sweat-stained sheets, and the memory of sighs filling the space enveloped you as you fell asleep. Matt kept his arms around you, as if afraid you’d run off and do something stupid. Not that sneaking out was ever an option with him. The problem with dating someone with enhanced senses. An overprotective someone who didn’t like it when you did your job because it occasionally put you in dangerous situations. Dangerous situations that you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of. 

These were the thoughts running through your head as you stared up at the ceiling, Matt’s head against your stomach, his arms draped around your waist. 

Then, Bartman crept into your mind. And with him, came Fisk. 

Fisk. 

Bartman could have papers, maybe even whole files tying him to Fisk’s operation. But they would be at his apartment. The apartment that now lay empty with its inhabitant locked up. But Fisk would send someone… if he hadn’t already. 

You sat up slowly, trying to keep from moving Matt’s arm too much. 

If you could get to the apartment first, if you could find something, anything that could incriminate Fisk, you could wrap this up tonight. In and out under the cover of dark. Easy. 

“Where are you going?” 

You flinched. Maybe not so easy. 

Matt sat up beside you, kissing your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My apartment?” God, even if he didn’t hear your heartbeat, that was unconvincing. You started to stand, but Matt gently grabbed your arm. 

“You want to go over there,” he said softly. 

You sighed. “There’s a lot of information just ripe for the taking.”

“So breaking and entering, theft, and pissing off a guy who beats his tenants into leaving is your plan?” 

“Well, I think we’re well past the pissing him off stage,” you said. 

Matt frowned. 

“All the more reason you need to stay here.” He moved closer to you, but you stood up. If he held you, you would let him. And you needed to work.

“I can’t just let this lie, Matt. He hurt people. Innocent families. And he did it all for Fisk.” You ran a hand through your hair, gathering and putting your clothes back on. “We have a chance to take them both down.”

Matt stood as well, putting his hands on your arms. “You’ve done enough. You helped them catch Bartman. Let the detective do the rest.”

You pushed him away. “You mean let you do the rest.” You crossed your arms, keeping just out of his reach. “You don’t get to lecture me about being safe when you go out there and do the exact same thing.” 

“Because I know how to take care of myself, Y/N,” Matt fired back. “You go out there, unarmed and unprepared and you might as well be digging your own-”

“I am not helpless!” You screamed, cutting him off. “I don’t need protection, I don’t need to be coddled, and I don’t need you.” 

As soon as you said the words, you felt them sink in, watching Matt’s face fall. He took a breath, squared back his shoulders, and his features hardened again. 

“Fine,” he said, concerningly calm. 

You were shaking from the raging mix of emotions inside you and it infuriated you to know that he could tell. He knew every tick, every clue to how you worked. And you knew so little about him. 

 “Fine,” you snapped. You turned, grabbing your keys. 

“Y/N, wait-” Matt started, his voice tinged with worry. 

But you were already gone. 

-

The sun hadn’t yet risen and the streetlights gave the world a menacing, muted yellow glow. You walked with your arms crossed over your chest, hands tucked under your arms to ward off the cold, and your sweatshirt hood pulled up. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed and it made you shiver more than the early morning air. 

“I swear to god, Matt,” you muttered to yourself, but, of course, there was no answer. You kept walking, head down and eyes searching. It wasn’t hard to find Bartman’s apartment again. You’d gone over it so many times with the detective that it felt like you’d been there a million times, even if you had never set foot inside. 

You went down the list, pressing each buzzer until someone let you in. It surprised you a little. After everything Bartman had put his tenants through, you expected them to be a little more cautious of who they let in. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to care anymore. After all, if the evil comes from within, what outside could be worse?

Going up the stairs, that creeping sense that made your hair stand on edge never went away. It was like someone was following right behind you, breathing down your neck. This wasn’t Matt. That was for sure. When he followed you, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you knew it was to keep you safe. It wasn’t overbearing or dark. As annoying as it was sometimes that he didn’t trust you could take care of yourself, you always felt warmth in his presence. Like nothing could happen to you. 

This feeling wanted to hurt you. It wanted you scared. It wanted you to run. 

You picked the lock to Bartman’s apartment quickly and slipped inside. 

Everything was dark and the heater rattled and sputtered, doing little to warm up the frigid room. Many of the light fixtures lacked bulbs, probably to save on electricity. He was cheap with his building, so you weren’t entirely surprised to find he skimped on his own living situation. Besides, Fisk probably promised him a palace compared to this place. 

You turned on the flashlight on your phone and swept over the various, disgusting surfaces. You didn’t want to know what most of the stains on the tables and counters and floors were. When Fisk found men to do his dirty work, they certainly were dirty. 

Through the mess, you found what looked like it could have been a desk in another, cleaner life, and started going through the drawers. All you needed was something, anything that could connect Fisk’s companies and accounts to Bartman. Even if it was just a simple check, it could be enough for a warrant or at least an investigation into Fisk. 

As you rummaged around, the door clicked open and shut behind you. 

“I was hoping I’d get to see you again.” 

Your shoulders tensed. Your hand slowly reached for the taser in your pocket. 

“It was a clever trick, you know.” Bartman stepped toward you, flicking on one of the lamps that retained their bulb. “You look like her.” He took another step. “You’ve got that same bitchiness when you walk. Like you’re better than everyone. Better than me.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Still… you just happen to be my type, sweetheart.” 

“Stay away from me, Mr. Bartman.” 

“You pretended to be my wife, you can at least call me by my first name.” He held out his hand with a mocking grin. “Jerry Bartman. I would say it’s a pleasure, but it won’t be for you.” 

You backed away, but your back hit the desk behind you. 

There was nowhere to run. 

Shit.

“Who made your bail, Mr. Bartman?” You asked pointedly.

He just chuckled, looming over you. “I’ve got friends in high places, little girl.” His eyes fell behind you to an envelope sticking out of the bottom drawer. 

Bingo. 

“Thank you,” you said, regaining a little of your confidence. “For being such an idiot.”

You jammed the taser into his side, listening to it crackle against his flesh. He yelped and stumbled backward, giving you enough time to grab the envelope and dart for the door. 

His hand caught your ankle first, yanking you to the hard, uncarpeted floor. You landed on your right arm and felt something crack. Your scream was cut off by a kick to your stomach. 

“You…. little… bitch…” Bartman gasped out, holding his side with one hand and pulling back for another hit with the other. 

The door opened. 

Bartman looked up. 

The shot.

The blood. 

The body landed on top of you with crushing force, knocking the scream out of your lungs. 

As the tears cleared from your vision, you saw the man standing over you, dressed in black, with an indifferent expression painting his features. You scrambled to push Bartman’s lifeless form off of you. 

“Shame,” he said. He sounded bored. Like your life was little more than a nuisance he had to deal with. “And you’ve been so helpful getting him out of our way.” 

He raised his gun. 

Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards him, ramming into his ribs with your shoulder and making your arm scream from the secondary impact. He grunted and the second gunshot echoed through the apartment, finding its mark in the lamp bulb, shattering the only light in the apartment. 

You were plunged back into darkness, but so was your attacker. 

Remember what Matt taught you. Feel the air move. Listen to the smallest sounds. And never, ever let your guard down. 

A stumbling step signaled you to the man’s swing, allowing you to dive out of the way before his fist could collide with your already sore ribs. 

“What the hell?” He hissed. He reloaded his gun. 

You kept low and moved quickly, holding your throbbing arm against your torso. Judging by the thundering steps and the sound of him stumbling into things, Bartman’s killer was completely blinded by the dark. 

You ducked into the hallway and found it almost as dark as the room before. Someone had shut off the lights to the whole building. The only light was the EXIT sign at the end of the hall, tinting everything in a deep, menacing red. You could hear Mr. Trigger Happy still coming after you, and debated between your two escapes; down the stairs to hide on one of the lower floors, or out onto the faster fire escape, but left you exposed. 

You ran to the red sign. 

A quiet scream escaped your throat, a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the exit. Your mouth was covered by a hand before you could scream again. Your back hit something firm behind you and an arm locked across your chest, holding you tightly. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s me,” Matt whispered, his breath hot against the back of your neck, breathing heavily like he’d run here. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

You whipped around, his arms wrapping around you, caging you safely in his embrace. 

“Matt,” you gasped, voice low so only he would hear. “They killed him. Fisk. He sent someone. He killed Bartman.” You shook in his hold, turning your head to try and look down the dark hallway. “There has to be more of them. We need to get out of here before they come.” 

Matt gently pushed you back, one hand firmly on your shoulder, the other gentle, softly tracing down your cheek. He could feel your heart racing, your broken bone scraping against itself, your cracked ribs creaking with every scared breath. Every sound only amplified in his chest. 

“Where is he?” He growled, feeling his anger bubbling over. 

“He isn’t important,” you said, a small smile breaking through your panic. You held up the envelope. “I think I found something. Bartman didn’t want me to find this and, clearly, this creep didn’t either.”

Matt shook his head, the black fabric of his mask molding to his hard expression. 

“Did Fisk’s man see you?” 

You swallowed. 

Your silence was enough. 

Matt moved you behind the wall, concealing you in a dark corner, and started back toward Bartman’s apartment. 

“Stay here,” he said. 

“Like hell,” you snapped. Tucking the envelope into your back waistband, you hurried after him. 

Matt turned, jaw tensed and tone dangerous. “Get out of here, Y/N. Go home.”

“What, so you can beat the shit out of some guy who shot at me?” You put your good hand on your hip. “I’m not going to hide. I want to finish this. Nancy Bartman deserves to stop being afraid. We all do.” 

Matt pushed you behind him. 

You grimaced, the spreading pain in your arm worsened by the sudden movement. 

“Really?” The hitman scoffed. “If I had known you’d be joining the party, I would have been quicker with the lady.” He smirked at you. “Friends in low places, huh?” 

“Fisk has you,” you glowered, stepping out from behind Matt, “I have him.” 

“Two birds-” He aimed at Matt’s head. “One stone.” 

Matt moved like a bullet, knocking the man back, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle, and kicking the gun across the floor all in one fluid series of actions. 

You didn’t waste time, picking up the gun and turning it on its former owner. Matt kept him on the ground, knee between his shoulder blades. You pressed the barrel against his temple. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked. 

“You know, if you wanted to get me going, you didn’t have to bring your friend.”

Matt dug his knee down. 

The man cried out. 

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked again, already knowing the answer. 

The assassin glared up at you, his eyes glowing in the red light. “Loose end. Just like you.” 

“Why does Fisk want this building?” 

“He made a deal.”

“So you do work for Fisk?” You pressed the metal harder against his skin, a small victorious rush coursing through you enough to ignore the screaming in your arm. 

He jerked suddenly, lunging for you. 

Matt slammed the man’s head against the carpet once… twice… The man stopped moving, though you could see his chest rise and fall faintly. 

“Did you hear that?” You exclaimed. “Of course, you heard it.” 

Matt didn’t say anything. He just grunted as he got the man up, pulling him back to the apartment and laying him beside Bartman’s dead body. 

“Call the police. I’ll make sure they find him here.” 

You did as he asked, saying that you were a neighbor and heard all the noise. He called Claire so she could be at the apartment to treat your arm. Then, you followed Matt up the roof where he could listen for the police to come. He didn’t say a word to you the entire time.

You could feel the anger tensed up in his shoulders and it wasn’t from the fight. This was a different anger, one that wasn’t violent or loud or could be worked out by hitting something. This was anger that came from one thing: fear. 

“I didn’t think they would come after him tonight,” you said softly, “let alone pay his bail and send him home.” 

Matt’s covered face stayed turned away from you. 

You took off the mask. “Matt, please.” With a hand on his cheek, you made him face you, staring into his beautiful, unstarring eyes. There were tears in them. 

“When I heard the second gunshot…” He whispered, voice cracking. 

A shot of guilt splintered through your chest. 

But you weren’t going to back down. 

“I know you think you are the only one who can face all of this, but you aren’t,” you said gently, but firmly. “You aren’t alone, Matt. We have to be partners if this is ever going to work.” 

Matt sighed. He listened to your heartbeat, reminding himself that it was still beating. You had made it through, even if he thought he’d been too late. You did that. He slowly brought your lips up to his, careful not to move your arm too much. 

When you both eventually pulled back, a small smirk spread across his face. 

“You know, when you were standing there, gun against that guy's head, even I was a little intimidated,” he chuckled. 

“Right? I can be a badass when I want to be,” you snickered, laying your head on his shoulder. You turned so you could see his face, lightly kissing his jaw. “We make a pretty good team. Maybe you should let me go out with you…”

Matt laughed, the sound turning less amused. “Don’t push it.” 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you held your injured arm in your lap as he held you. The two of you sat and waited for the sirens and lights to break through the dark of the night. 

-

Hey look, I remembered the tag list this time!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascall; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Edward Scissorhands (1990, Tim Burton)

28/03/2024

[victorsandvanquishers]

The Red House (and all who live in its walls) - Chapter 14

Fandom: DC Comics

Ships: Bart Allen/Kon El

Ratings: M+

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Southern Gothic Horror; Monster/Human romance uwu, Monsterfucking; Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse; More self-loathing, Villains from Superboy 1994

Story Synopsis: When former child star and Metropolis sweetheart Kon 'Superboy' El loses the last vestiges of his career to rampant partying and a budding alcohol addiction, he's forced to move into an old house in the Georgian woods because he can't afford his apartment or his bills anymore. Never the quitter, Kon embraces the crumbling antebellum house and all of its possibilities.

[Bart Allen/Kon El, No Powers AU, gothic horror romance]

Chapter Summary: Old friends, old enemies, old wounds - Kon should have known better. Things could always get worse.

~~~

And thus we return... to the PLOT! This book is done, but it's still a bitch to navigate. I promise you I haven't forgotten what I wrote in the last chapter, there's just so much more drama for y'all to experience! Wonder who's gonna cameo next, hehe

And what will Bartman do next? Find out next time on the Red House (and the weirdos who decided to live there). Don't forget to leave a review~ ( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧

[excitementshewrote]

[tumelothee]

THE MESSAGES OF FATHERS

I would like to point out the difference in the messages that Sydney and Carmy both receive from their father/father-like figures in S02E09.

First we get Sydney and Emmanuel. As Sydney is about to leave for the restaurant, she has a talk with her father. Sydney ponders on why we can't put everything we have into of everything we do. Emmanuel then asks "then why put so much into this one?" Sydney then says because she's not sure if she could do another one.

Then we get Uncle Jimmy/Cicero and Carmen. Cicero tells the story of "complete and utter failure", the Alex Gonzalez and Stevie Bartman story. The story of how Alex's first fuck up led to another fuck ups but the loss of the Cubs was blamed on little Stevie Bartman. Carmen then thinks that they don't want to end up being Stevie but Cicero tells him no, he's actually not supposed to end up like Alex Gonzalez, he mustn't end up unfocused.

Both messages come from a place of love and wanting the best for their loved ones, but the differences in how they're expressed is so stark. With Emmanuel, he asked Syndey how she's feeling, before anything else and lets her know that she puts too much pressure on herself and that he'll ALWAYS be there for her. With Cicero, he urges Carmy to completely commit himself and not drop the ball, because he doesn't want to take the restaurant away from him.

Going back to previous episodes of S02, in episode 1, where Sydney talks about staying calm and taking it step by step and episode 2, where Carmen tells Sydney that if she wants the star, she must be incredibly focused and care for nothing else. Both Carmen and Cicero's messages align and Sydney and Emmanuel's messages align. But Carmen and Sydney's messages don't. I feel that Sydney needed to hear Cicero's message and Carmen needed to hear Emmanuel's. Because it's true, Sydney does need to be more focused and efficient to get that star and Carmen should relax and take things step by step, as he has been there before. He was the youngest CDC and managed to retain stars, he's got nothing to prove, he just needs to be a great partner.

In order for success on both sides, Sydney and Carmen need to be aligned. Both messages need to be at play so that both Sydney and Carmy know what they must do for one another in order to get what they want.

In the end of episode 10, Sydney vomits and Carmy spirals. They are far from the messages that were told to them. In season 3, balance and finding their way back to the messages AND to each other will be a determining factor on if they get that star. I CAN'T WAIT.😭😭😭

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e5 rewatch notes

Ah, "Pop" - it's so weird to have one of the least-satisfying episodes of television you've ever watched be sandwiched in the middle of one of the most satisfying television series you've ever seen.

"But the viewer uneasiness, the juxtaposition, that's the point of the episode!" cry future Storer/Calo** in unison, tearing at their shirt collars and throwing themselves prostrate in the middle of their 7th podcast interview moderated entirely by men "in the spirit of John Hughes, we wanted to convey....."

** For the record, I respect/love them for creating my 2nd favorite TV show of all time, they just grind my gears with the offensive stance on these narrative choices that were, in fact, very bad.

It was an over-reach, an unenjoyable viewing experience for most people outside a specific segment of uncritical (mostly white) men and the women who placate them.

Alright, preamble over - let's dig in!

We open with Tina getting a crash-course in Syd's vision. I bet this woman has never been exposed to breaking food down in the abstract - "earth, air, fire, water" , nor the overwhelming prep of the daikon and the fennel - but her just being like "this is a lot for a tasting menu" and then reassuring her with "it's okay ma, I got you!" - she has my full heart.

Tina's intuition on the food is good, though - it is, in fact, too busy. Sydney is still learning how to be a mentor, and she negates that Tina's background isn't automatically going to make her know what a play on an XO sauce is, or even how to identify a panzanella.

Remember Carmy explaining Japanese plum wine to Marcus? That's how you do it. Sydney still has a learning curve to go through, but Tina will weather it gangbusters.

Sydney - "It's a lot, it's a lot...I'm seeing that its a lot"

I see that iterative recipe development between Carmy + Syd fell into oblivion three weeks earlier when he blew her off, and she's suffering greatly.

Carmy is trying to get the 7 seconds down to 5 between stations when Cicero comes in, and Cicero sees it as a fruitless exercise after Natalie points out that he's been at it for over an hour. I can almost see the flash in Carmy's eyes where we're back 5 years ago, his family seeing him and his work as weird and irrelevant. This was probably the first blow of the day that led him to flake out completely.

I'm including all of Cicero's dialogue here, because I didn't realize it was so weighted on my first pass through the show:

"I'm a little concerned that we're taking our eyes off the ball here, and I want to be hyper-clear - if I ain't seeing no progress, I don't want to keep pissing money away. I'm calling this out now, because we are - How far from open, Sug? - Six weeks! And I somehow anticipate that the coming six weeks, there will be more pissin'.

The thing is, I like to control the pissing to the best of my ability....your schedule is kinked. You're doing whatever the fuck you're doing here. Thundernuts is out there making sandwiches for his entire family? I mean, look, as much as I look forward to selling this place - and trust me, I do look forward to it - I think it's just in all of our best interests if we have a maximally efficient place of business. I really would like to tell you a story of complete and utter failure...."

Syd interrupts.

Holy shit - this is the second time he's tried to tell his Gonzalez/Bartman story. I can't believe I missed this, TWICE (s2e1).

Instead, he tells it to Carmy on opening night - and I think by then Cicero has seen the writing on the wall and knows that Carmy is the only person who really needs to hear it - this is a big CP.

The scenes that follow just reinforce Ciceros current narrative - it's too casual for essentially being a House of Usher - everyone is interrupting, Fak's pal/contractor wandering in eating a sandwich the electrician made him, the drywall falling, Timmy's "no worries, it's still billable hours" crack. Mobster uncle or not, the man has already spent $550k just to witness this.

Tina telling Ebra that it's weird she hasn't spoken to him in a few days, and can't recount the last time that happened - it's amazing that with all the talk of platonic relationships this season, no one is pulling this one out of their hats in comparison *smirks*

But again (like Sugar faux-charming Cicero moments earlier). women be managing men's emotions along with their own lengthy lists of challenges, as the men retreat wounded and overwhelmed.

Cut to Syd perfectly laying out dining wares for Carmy while Fak blathers about 'Can't Hardly Wait' being "the greatest High School Song ever written" while his contractor friend sits idle....

"That's $55 a plate for that silence" - "Okay, then we can use the shitty ones" - Carmy is being so frigging childish and dismissive, right after he called Sugar "fucking disgusting" for being cutesy with Cicero to de-escalate him, but both women are doing what needs to be done - not what they WANT to be doing.

This is when Carmy completely checks out to call Claire for the ridiculous errand run to Winnetka. In my memory, I felt like "oh, he wanted to see her and he took the first opening to bail", but watching this episode now, he feels defeated and infantalized, and so he runs to a guaranteed source of flattery/unchallenging comfort. I don't think it was initially his M.O for the workday, just "later".

He exits with "Um....chaos menu. I dunno? I'll get back to you?" after we already watched Syd suffer on it until the wee hours - he's off to provide himself with amusement and enjoyment, so he can take care of Syd others- he just wants to give the menu to her straight-up (as he thinks this will please her), and this is his way of apologizing for bailing.

The same goes for his non-thank-you to Natalie as he's leaving. "You're not doing this because I'm pregnant, are you?" - No, he's doing it to provide himself with amusement or enjoyment so he can be better for you - enjoy working the entire day at the restaurant pregnant, though! If it makes you feel better, he appreciates you.

"Total Control" by Motels is playing as Carmy and Claire drive to the suburbs - I included the link to the lyrics, because it was an....interesting choice.

I really tried to analyze their conversation during their first foray into the car, but my raw scribbled notes look like this:

"It's perfect timing, I had all this extra adrenaline after resetting this guys Tibia" - screaming

"Whoa" (but not really impressed/getting it) "Does that shit really fire you up?" - oh my god

"It really fucking fires me up. Plus, I love driving. I'm a horrible driver, but I love the risk." - oh my fucking god

I can't do it. I'm sorry.

I'll only note that the chemistry during the envelope drop is non-existent. I think it was supposed to be scripted as a funny/awkward scene, but it just came off as two actors standing in a mail room - before this moment, I never perceived JAW as a guy who's just acting in this show, and it's jarring.

Why the hell didn't FX exert more pressure to get the chemistry read they asked for?

Sydney and Natalie's sit-down is just them acknowledging that they're managing the feelings and work of all the men that orbit The Bear, on top of the extensive labor demands they already have. Richie's interjections due to lack of purpose, Fak's inexperience with managing contractors, Carmy being checked-out and incapable of participating in things that don't rely on his existing ADHD skill-set.

One of these women is a bit green and needs support, the other is pregnant and overwhelmed, and all the men are mad or threatened by them for one trite reason or another - if season 3 isn't an overt celebration of female competence and resilince, I'm out.

"The menu is fucked - and I need Carmy, but he is....being Carmy, somewhere."

"At least he's hanging out with Claire, that seems moderately healthy, right?" - Sugar delivers this as not good, not bad, just completely ambivalent - a far cry from the Fishes discourse.

And Sydney's eyes fire up with the intensity of hell behind a smile and the "who's Claire?" - Ayo is such an amazing actress, that was a nice palate cleanser after the letter drop.

OK, we're back in the car - again, I couldn't extract much from the vapor, but here are some rough-hewn observations:

Claire saying "We've hung out so much, but we've never actually talked" - add it to the list of "telling, not showing".

I wonder if Molly Gordon is truly a great actress and intended to look at Carmy like that while he was talking about drawing pants (intense psychoanalysis eyes) or if she was attempting to look dreamily at him and just failed the assignment.

It's becoming a bit more clear to me that there's a weird brother-oedipal thing going on with Claire when Carmy talks about how she had so many friends, as Mikey did.

"Speaking of dead brothers, do you want to go to a party?"

Ignoring the totallykookycoolgirl line, I don't believe Carmy wanted/needed the tension to break there, he actually wanted to talk. The 'hmmmm' he lets escape is discomfort on multiple levels.

The party scene - "Pretty in Pink" by the Psychedelic Furs plays as they enter a house filled with 35-year-old fraternity dudes.

For those who maybe missed this, John Hughes also wrote "The Breakfast Club", wherein Molly Ringwald's character was named Claire. They just beat us over the head with this regression repeatedly, and I resent it. I came here for a high-caliber show, and I feel like I'm watching Zach Braff disassociate in a Scrubs dream sequence or some shit.

At least KJ (a 38 years old man with meth face) says that Carmy was in wrestling with him back in high school - maybe this will tamp down the "why is a chef so ripped" debate.

Even when Claire is comforting her friend (which is played by Mitra Jouhari, Molly/Ayo's friend in real life), the delivery is so wooden and sterile and not how adult women console one another in crisis.

Maybe it was the fact that she was forced to maintain the whispery voice through it for consistency in Carmy's presence, but even that seems out of sorts - imagine Syd, Tina, Sugar, anyone consoling a friend in a similar situation - and she uses that consolation to further her agenda with Carmy by dropping that no one has ever made her dinner before (at age 30???)

"Am I stupid?" "No, no....he's the one who sucks".

Wait, these are the lines of a very adult woman who has friends who are doctors getting over a 5-year-breakup? This script is stupid.

Jeremy Allen White is such a serious actor, I'd kill to hear his earnest drunk take on this.

"He's so nice. Why don't I ever meet anyone who's nice?"

*sighs deeply* - Again, y'all are 30.

Tina taking a shot and then getting up to sing "Before the Next Teardrop Falls" by Freddy Fender. I'd love to know if this song has a massive place of significance in Tina's life, but I choose to see it as her being a ballast of support for whoever needs her. Her heart is completely open - no notes.

Hold the phone - they chose "Here Comes The Night" to play as Claire is staring back at Carmy and comforting her friend leading up to the fireworks scene?

Here are the lyrics - Van Morrison/Them is great, but I wonder why they picked this song? Feel free to slap the Syd goggles off me, but this literally just chased Tina's ballad about being there when someone breaks your heart.

KJ saying "busted for having fun, busted for having fun!" as the cops are hauling him away. Loga....I mean, Carmy, was looking for "fun" in his life - I feel like this scene summarizes that pretty succinctly. He's not a man searching for fun, he's a man searching for meaning....and now he's going to conflate the fact that he's completely touch-starved with this type of fun, because the man is emotionally illiterate.

The one lyric from Strange Currencies (when they're driving to the restaurant) that they chose to flare prominently is "where were you when I kissed you" - at least they're driving home the message that these two aren't on the same wavelength.

Carmy walking into the Richie-fight-shitshow and being more concerned about the optics Claire receives when it's obvious that his whole staff has just been through a hellfire of a day, ugh. At least his acting chops are back on display in this scene.

Ahhhh, Claire's sourpuss face as soon as Sydney blurts out "I'm sorry you're here" - it almost makes this episode worth it. Almost.

For the record, I side with everyone who's stated that her introduction to the crowd was exclusively to draw Syd's attention to her.

The same goes for Richie's "Interesting." - if we based everything on what Fishes was trying to sell us, he would have thrown Carmy an arm-punch or something. It's more bemusement, not pride, in Carmy for "bagging Claire". Compare that with the "ooooooooohhhh" when Syd and Carmy are fighting - there's way more tension/acknowledgement of their dynamic.

Ugh - even Richie is like "Cousin, who's going to watch the copper?" as Carmy kicks everyone out. Even if they're ham-fisted about it (as Richie definitely is), everyone is concerned about something to do with the restaurant/their labor except for Carmy, who curtly dismisses them all with fake gratitude.

I won't talk much about Syd's exit, because it's already been discussed to death - yes, he's confused she's leaving. Yes, the only time he can look her in the eye is while Claire is distracted. Yes, he see's she's pissed and it's making him die a little inside.

I will offer a trite story, though:

When I was a young pup, I had a co-worker who had a massive crush on my friend - and the affection was mutual, but unacknowledged due to lack of experience.

He (being a traumatized, ill-equipped man-child) immediately sought out a less challenging girlfriend who even looked like a close approximation of my friend and excitedly brought this new girlfriend to a party I was throwing because he REALLY hoped that my friend would love her. She obviously didn't love her, he came to me confused/upset, and after I explained things slowly and carefully, he dumped the girlfriend a few days later. He dated my friend weeks after (and for transparencies sake, it ended terribly).

Where I'm going with this is that I think somewhere in the recesses of Carmy's damaged mind, he REALLY needed Syd's approval of him being with Claire since he was caught red-handed. He imagined her staying, asking leading questions or chaperoning the situation, or giving him a knowing smile or a "thata boy" - whatever. Even though he told everyone to leave. It's bizarre.

The Fak thing is so cloying - someone mentioned today about the Berzatto clan of fools wanting to live vicariously through Carmy and Claire, and they are 100% correct.

Finally, 30-year-olds don't kiss like this.

This whole thing was as unsatisfying to write as it was to watch. Hopefully, I caught something of use - thanks for sticking with me through this!