#for such an important place in the series ...

[natalievoncatte]

Kara’s phone skittered across the table, and she looked away from the movie. Alex was with her on the couch and they had a box of cheap rosé and were watching Mean Girls, Alex’s pick. They hadn’t had a sisters night in ages, and Kelly had Esme with her and was visiting James for the weekend; Alex had stayed behind to keep an eye on things with J’onn and Kara.

Kara’s phone was supposed to be off, but she couldn’t help herself. Alex scowled at her as she reached for it.

“Kara,” she muttered, “you deserve a night off.”

“I have it on Do Not Disturb. It’ll only go off if it’s one of my favorites calling.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Knowing you, that’s everyone you know.

“It’s actually just you and Lena,” Kara said, absently.

Alex looked at he enigmatically. There was a knowing in her eyes that made Kara feel a little hot and a little squeezed, paranoid that Alex observed something she had not.

It was a series of texts, not a call.

Kara, can you come over?

Nvm you must be with Alex

But if you do the balcony door is open

It’s not important I just need to see you

Kara bit her lip.

“What did Lena say?”

Kara glanced up. “I didn’t say it was Lena.”

Alex stared at her, and Kara squirmed a little. There as a hint of a smile but a touch of sadness in her eyes, and she let out a little sigh.

“She said it’s not important but she needs to see me.”

Alex sighed. “You should go.”

“She said it’s not important,” said Kara.

“But she said she needs to see you. You won’t be able to relax all night until you know why. You can go. I’m going to crash here, I’m not driving. Go, Kara.”

Kara nodded and stood, wondering why her palms were sweaty. She put on her suit and stepped into the air, making a brisk but calm flight to Lena’s place, making sure not to create any sonic booms.

When she lighted on the balcony it was indeed open. Kara paused and listened, locking on the steady beat of Lena’s heart and breathing. She was in her bedroom.

Passing through the dark penthouse, Kara found Lena in the bed, curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows. She was wearing an oversized hoodie with her hands tucked up in the sleeves and had a box of tissues near her head. When she looked up, Kara realized she was wearing a battered and threadbare Midvale High Mathletes Club sweatshirt that was two sizes too big for her, because it was actually Kara’s.

Kara moved to the side of the bed. “Lena? What’s wrong?”

Lena didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you at sister night.”

“You should have been at sister night.”

There as a curious look in Lena’s big, soft eyes, at once warm and heartbroken, like she’s both gained and lost in a single moment.

“I couldn’t tonight.”

Kara let her suit dissolve. She was still in her lounge clothes, a pair of baggy sweats and a button-up tank that left her arms bare. She sat down on the bed and leaned towards Lena.

“I’m okay,” Lena said.

She’d been crying, her eyes red rimmed and wet, painful tracks left by tears and her nose raw. Lena rarely let anyone see any kind of vulnerability like this.

“You don’t look okay, Miss Luthor. This looks like a job for Supergirl.”

“I don’t want Supergirl, I want Kara. Can you stay.”

Kara said, “Yes,” without hesitation, and super speed typed a text to Alex, then turned off her phone.

After a brief hesitation, Kara climbed onto Lena’s huge California King bed. There as plenty of room in the middle for them both. Lena lifted the covers and Kara settled in with her.

Carefully, she pushed the hood back, and tucked away a few stray dark curls from Lena’s eyes as she shimmied closer, curling her arm around Lena’s shoulder. Their bodies instinctively fitted together as they had many times before, Lena carefully cradled in Kara’s powerful arms. Kara could feel her quick breaths and the flutter of her heart beneath her ribs. In her embrace, Lena felt delicate and exotic, a treasure to be handled with utmost care.

“Want to talk about it?” said Kara.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Yes.”

Kara wasn’t sure how long she laid there or how long Lena clung to her; she didn’t really care. Finally Lena spoke.

“This is the day my mom died.”

Kara let out of a soft “Oh,” and held her just a little tighter, carefully exacting just a touch more pressure until Lena calmed again.

“It’s normally this bad but some years it’s just too much, it’s… it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sometimes I still have The Dream.”

Kara tensed, not because Lena didn’t explain, but because Kara knew without being told. Kara had The Dream, too. The only dream that was a Dream, the only nightmare that you can’t wake up from because the waking is the nightmare.

Lena shook her head, and her voice broke something in Kara, shattering it into a thousand pieces that scattered on the crystal floor of the hidden places within her.

“I can’t even remember what she looked like.”

Kara ran her hand softly over Lena’s head and felt fresh tears hot on her neck.

“Lillian took everything from me. Pictures, home movies, all of it. Sometimes I can remember her singing but it’s like I can feel it more than hear it.”

“I remember,” Kara said softly, “when I started thinking in English. I had to. It was the only way I could write without messing up the grammar.”

“Do you remember Krypton?”

“Mostly. It’s hazy. Things from before my powers are like that.”

“Can you… can you tell me about it?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just… I’m trying not to think about how much I want my mom.”

Kara nodded and began telling Lena whatever popped into her head, without rhyme or reason or really meaning to go anywhere with it. She told her about Argo City and excursions to gather mineral samples, about the opera and museums and festivals, about the food and music. She told Lena what it was like to visit other worlds, to stand on the shores of lakes of molten nickel and watch a supernova unfolding.

She barely noticed when Lena fell into a light sleep, curled up in her arms. She clung to Kara, hands fisted into her back at first, then relaxing as she dozed.

Eventually, light peeked around Lena’s blackout curtains. Lena had slept through the night. Kara should probably have withdrawn or gone to make breakfast, but she stayed, enjoying Lena’s scent in Lena’s huge bed, feeling her breathing against her and just feeling this curious relief that she at least knew she was safe, truly safe.

“You’re here,” Lena murmured as she woke up.

“Of course I’m here”, said Kara.

“I like having you here,” Lena mumbled.

“I like having me here.”

Lena sighed. “Are you real? Am I dreaming this too?”

Kara snorted. “Do you dream about me a lot?”

There was a too-long pause before Lena said, “yes.”

“What kind of dreams? Am I badass in them?”

“Something like that.”

Kara smiled. “Want me to grab us breakfast?”

“No.”

Kara’s stomach rumbled, but Lena ignored it. She still had her arms around Kara’s waist and squeezed hard, pulling her close. There was desperation in it. Kara sucked in a sharp breath, even as she returned the embrace.

“Hey,” Kara said softly, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”

“Okay.”

Kara swallowed, hard. Lena looked up at her and Kara’s heart did a flip. She was so soft here in the morning light, vulnerable in a way that no one else ever saw. Every fiber of her being screamed at Kara to make it better, protect her, kiss her.

Wait, what?

Kara blinked. Lena was staring at her lips, pupils wide and eyes dark.

There had been a moment like this before. When Kara came back from that awful place, ripped free from its darkness, when it felt like Lena was the whole universe and Kara had been locked in by her gravity, pulled toward a singularity, yanked away from it by her fathers voice as she leaned in…

“I want you to stay,” Lena said, each word a tiny whisper puffed against Kara’s lips.

Kara kissed her.

It wasn’t a Big Damn Kiss. It wasn’t one where the camera spun and the music swelled. It was barely there at all, a faint brushing of lips, an invitation left to wait, breathless, for an answer.

When Lena kissed her back it was slow and passionate but reserved, lips pressed on lips, followed by a tiny tug on Kara’s bottom lip, the signature that competed the message.

Kara moved delicately, leaving a pause with each moment, but Lena offered only invitation.

“Is this okay?” Kara asked.

Lena grasped fistfuls of Kara’s shirt, squeezing so hard that her knuckles went white and her hands trembled.

“Please,” she whispered. “Stay.”

“I’ll never leave,” Kara whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss.

[acid-ixx]

I have a question, well 2 questions to be exact that’s been rattling around in my head since I started reading platonic yandere batfam fics, why would reader stay in Gotham? I’d be sneakily stealing as much money as I could without getting caught as soon as I reach a “fuck these guys” mentality. Like, asking to have some money for groceries or something and just pocketing it so that I could get a bus ticket and leave the city. Would you do it if you were reader? It just makes sense to me “this place sucks, these people suck, I’ve gotten enough to leave”, this is with me assuming that reader has the means of course, if the reader doesn’t then okay, yeah that makes sense

And my second question, do you ever feel resentful towards Alfred when you read batfam photonic yandere content? I do sometimes, especially when the reader is neglected. I know this might sound odd but when I read these fics I recognize that Alfred could do more, out of everyone in the manner, I think Alfred’s word carries the most weight, especially with Bruce due to him raising Bruce. I also notice in some batfam fics that the reader doesn’t get mad at him due to him giving them attention, but idk it feels kinda like a slap to the face, knowing that I don’t have the power but he does and yet not exercising it until I’ve burned every last tie to that family.

I know my thoughts are a more “well you’re on the outside looking in” type takes, but idk, it hurts my heart knowing that if reader stays in that city, it will be far more easier for the batfam to find them, where if they were outside the city, they’d have a fighting chance to make a new life for themselves

On a side note, I think we are underutilizing the angst potential of reader legally changing their name and the batfam not knowing until months or even years later when reader leaves. Like Bruce and the fam would just have to sit and realize that reader hates/dislikes/doesn’t care about them enough to legally change their name from Wayne to whatever reader chooses. Jason was Batman’s greatest failure, but Reader would be Bruce’s greatest failure, and what a delightful public failure it would be if the tabloids were to somehow find out that one of Bruce Wayne’s biological children changed their legal name

I’m loving your batfam content btw, like it makes me want to create one of those “screw therapy, I need to fist fight my dad” tiktoks and tag Bruce Wayne, that’s what I can phenomenal writing!! And sorry for making this so long! Hope you have a great existence!

slight spoilers for future chapters.

this is one of my favorite asks... anon, you are so brilliant because your two questions tie into the reader's character so well and the flaws that they (you) conjured from years of neglect, so i hope my answers would suffice (i am answering based on the perspective of the reader from my series: again & again with a bit of my own perspective). tysm for sending this in, i actually really enjoy long asks and appreciate it when people take the time to send me these things!

why would the reader stay in gotham?

chapter one wasn't all the detailed about why they stayed in gotham. firstly, their self-worth had them reason that in no way, shape, or form would their family that basically estranged them would come running to them, especially not when the only time the reader could even stumble across them is by some miracle of coincidence. this also ties into their lack of knowledge about their family. sure, they know that babs is the oracle but do they know just how much access she has across gotham? not really. they know tim, like bruce, has a tendency to collect information about other people, but they don't know that they have contingency plans to be creeped out enough to get away from gotham and from their reach.

"it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!"

and the third point is, despite bruce being a billionaire of some sort, it was stated that the reader was too well-behaved and quiet. how does this make sense? as you've stated, they wouldn't simply have the means to get out. seeing as they were sheltered by alfred and never really explored the concept of traveling far away, they never asked for money; the only advantage of being a wayne is having quite a lot of things served on a silver platter.

they have this sort of toxic bond for staying with the people who have hurt them and it materialized to them physically staying despite knowing it would only cause more pain than anything else, and they don't know that. plus, they'd rather not have the wayne name associated with them and getting money from cheques or credit cards would be too risky for the reader's safety.

they've only realized just how shitty their family is after more than 10-13 years of staying in the manor, and saving up to move to an entirely different place would be difficult, alongside college and the jobs they have to take. so the next best thing they could do is rely on any means of advantage they could get whilst also moving on to the path of self-discovery and recovery.

but that doesn't mean they're staying in gotham forever, definitely not. the moment the reader realizes that dick gained some sort of interest towards them, they're booking it out of gotham. preferably to metropolis or central city or even somewhere far, far away— they're naive, but not stupid. sudden interest towards them means danger rather than anything else. and they're aware that alfred is capable enough to pull strings, so that's why spoiler alert: they have a secret stash of money hidden somewhere and like any children of bruce, they inherited the capability to be smart enough to already back up their contacts and everything on their phone, buy a burner phone and even change their entire identity in one quick go right after they move into an entirely different city or country.

gotham is merely their practice course.

do you ever feel resentment towards alfred?

quite frankly, yes. the reader in the fic feels resentment towards everyone for a reason actually, but alfred's part was stated vaguely as to not spoil a future chapter that focuses on his perspective. they know that he has the more power inside the manor more than bruce has. everyone, and i mean everyone respects alfred, and it doesn't take a genius to know that if you mess with him, you're messing with an entire family of crime fighters.

it's not obvious, but the reader's narrative in chapter one is them trying so hard to delude themself into thinking things can be better until it's too late. so in a sense, there's false narrative coming into play.

"alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least."

at some point in time, alfred had also neglected the reader emotionally with the same reasoning as the others; he was busy with their father. and this all could've been avoided if alfred had tried to confront the entire family about it. i'm not delving deeper into this to really avoid spoilers other than pointing out some details in the first chapter.

just know that alfred relishes in your newfound favoritism towards him, and that he may or may not have pulled some strings himself from helping you become closer to the family.

the part about reading changing their name from (name) wayne to (name) (last name) is what made me so drawn to this ask. you have pretty much predicted one of the chapters that explored (name) wayne to the public eye. they're not so much of an internet celebrity because of their rare appearances in public, but that's what causes immense curiosity about their identity to uprise in gotham, and their fame was one of the means to get to you.

there was one news article published that was the reason that made bruce distant towards you.

but let's focus on what yan! bruce would've felt once he turns a full 360.

because the first thing he would do once he has you in his grasp is to change your last name back to his. you are not the child of a (last name), you are a wayne first and foremost, bruce's third child and his greatest mistake, quite literally. you were a product of a one-night-stand, and because he was drowning in despair from jason's death, he had failed to notice you. all his years of neglect, and he doesn't even know a single thing about you, simply because he refused to acknowledge your presence.

and you rightfully hated him, he should've accepted that. but your diary entries and the way you innocently thought of him destroyed any sliver of hope for a peaceful reconciliation. he hates how you were experiencing the same type of despair as him when it comes to battling your own monsters— you truly are a wayne at heart. he couldn't afford to let you get away any further. just like dick, he needs to fix it now or further sever the already broken ties you have with him.

it's not batman now, but rather bruce. bruce wayne had failed to save another one of his children, not as a vigilante, but as a father.

knowing bruce, he's quick to take into action and search for you.

holy shit, this is a really long post but i hope it does answer the questions ! im so grateful that you like my writing enough to write a really long ask, and i hope to see your messages more once the new chapters are published <3

[carmenized-onions]

Just Dropped. | Missing Invoice

logline; It's still fucking Friday. Half past five, maybe?

[!!!] series history, this is the eleventh; We're jumping RIGHT back in babe, feel free to re-review chapter ten to remember everything lmao.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to.

portion; 8.2k Thank fucking god this got split off from the last.

possible allergies; hurt,,,,, some comfort? You'll see, idk. No spoils. Terrible self-image, a lot of talk of Mikey's death and blame about it. Just a lot of mean and hurtful words to oneself and others.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (i don't believe there's any pronouns but feminine titles are used? you'll see) Also, if I'm being honest, this chapter is not about Carmen, lmao. but when are they, really?

you ever notice that the other shoe chapter doesn't have a period? lol pranked you!! genuinely both very interested and very nervous to hear y'alls thoughts on this one,,, i hope you like it,,,, if you don't,,,, let me down so gently, sweetpea

Same team. You say to Marcus.

It’s an idiom you coined, long ago. It’s a simple phrase you and your friends started to exchange whenever heads got hot, and you had to remind each other that at the end of the day, you’re fighting for the same thing. To get through the end of the day, together. You’re on the same team.

It’s not interchangeable with ‘we good?’ It means so much more than that. Fights happen, they do. You know that better than anyone, but it’s important to remind each other what you’re fighting for. Same team, you say to Marcus, after reciting all the pastas on order.

He says it back, calming down. Talking to Richie was just as important as running expo; same team. He gets it. You exchange reassuring nods.

Two doors swing open. First, Sweeps comes in through front of house, pressing a note to your back, you hold it there. You don’t think it’s a good sign when he mumbles, slipping past your shoulder. “Need a smoke break, one sec.”

Second, Carmen swings out of his office. Phone call over, he seems deeply bothered. Is Natalie okay? Is he okay? You imagine he wouldn’t just return to his station, right in front of expo, if everything wasn’t okay. He does seem… On the verge of something, though. Despite your concerns, you continue to bark out orders. You try to run it a little more… prim, this time, with Carmen back. A couple fewer ‘love yous’ peppered in between table numbers. You don’t want to make him snap by running the place not like his Exec would.

Richie rolls back his shoulders, stretching out his neck. He tries to find sympathy and kinmanship, in Carmen, “Cousin, your ol’ boss is such an asshole, you wouldn’t believe what he—”

“Respect him, Chef.”

Huh? That gives both you and Richie pause. You stutter on the order. “Twen—Twenty-six, table twenty-six, waiting on fish, Chefs.”

“Fish.” Carmen hands the plate off to expo, immediately. Cold. He hasn’t even commented on you running expo yet. Is he mad? You’re probably doing a shit job at this. You hand the serving tray off to Fak to run. He speeds out, like a reverse lassie, sensing danger and wanting to get the fuck out immediately.

“…Respect him?” Richie repeats, dumbfounded.

“He’s a Two-Star Executive Chef.” Carmen doesn’t take his eyes off his cutting board. You’re not sure what he’s making, right now— Oh shit, you should tell him about the cherry and lamb before he wastes his time.

“Don’t matter what his title is—” “Yes. It does.”

Richie’s brows raise then furrow, as do yours, just not nearly as dramatic. Neither of you were expecting a fight over this, you’ve both been serving this man first hand. Carmen worked for this guy for like two or three years, he knows. He has nightmares about this guy. You were expecting comradery. The guy is a dick, why won’t Carmen admit that? Why’s he suddenly got stock in his captor?

“Who shit in your cereal? He’s bein’ a fuckin’ creep, Cousin.” That touches your heart, a little bit. Richie’s not directly saying it’s affecting you, but it’s nice to know that he just as equally cares about your discomfort.

Carmen’s a different story, though. Because he doesn’t question why Richie would say this. Doesn’t bother to consider the idea that he’s not fully informed, on the situation. On any situation, for that matter. He just thinks he’s being attacked, for some reason.

“N’ what the fuck are you?”

That snaps you off of your focus— Quite frankly, it snaps half of the kitchen out of their focus. Everyone’s knives pause above their cutting boards, spoons half dipped into pots, it hangs in the air, for a second.

“Pardon me?” Richie puts a hand over his chest, taking a half step back, to physically display how much offense he’s taken. Fucking hell, it’s gonna be this now. “What the fuck am I?”

“D’you want me to tell you? Cause I’ll fuckin’ tell you.”

You’ve gotta get between this, before Carmen can tell him. You slip Sweeps’ note in your pocket, long forgetting it, at this point. When you step forward, Richie puts an arm in front of you, barring you from getting in the middle of this. “Rich—”

“Please.” Richie goads, ignoring you. “En-fucking-lighten me.” You immediately brace yourself for whatever impact you and the rest of this kitchen are going to be collateral for.

“You’re a fuckin’ deadbeat, Rich.” Carmen puts his knife down, turning from his station to face Rice. Where the fuck is all this coming from? What kind of phone call was this? When you open your mouth to interrupt, Richie puts his other hand up in front of your face, shushing you. He wants to hear what Carmen has to say. You desperately do not want to hear what Carmen has to say.

“You wouldn’t have shit without me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have shit?”

“You wouldn’t be able to pay for your fuckin’ life—” “Oh here we go—” “Or your fuckin’ kid—” “Oh, oh you wanna talk to me about my fuckin’ kid?” “You wouldn’t have shit—” “At least I have a fuckin’ kid.” “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, you don’t have shit, Carmen, you don’t let good shit ever fuckin’ happen to you. So fuckin’ tough, never let anyone talk to you.”

It is impossible to get a word in, inch wise. They are so in each other’s faces, Carmen’s a bit shorter than Richie, and that somehow does not make him any less intimidating. This has been brewing long before you showed up, that much is very fucking clear. What caused the snap to happen now is beyond you.

You cannot find a moment to interrupt, to attempt to mediate. No one can. The kitchen is divided, some continue cooking to avoid the situation, some have stopped to watch, wondering to themselves who’s going to intervene, and some are like you, waiting for the right moment to step in. There will never be a right moment to step in.

“Where were you, when I fuckin’ put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit?”

Oh. Stray bullet, for you. You wince— Not that you weren’t already, but that was definitely a personal hit. Richie’s still harbouring resentment over that for Carmen, which means he still holds it somewhere for you, too. And at least Carmen came back after, to take care of The Beef. Where the fuck were you for the better half of a year? Vanished. You completely vanished, on him.

“You’re so fucking obsessed with my family— Such—You’re such a fucking leech.”

You catch it from Carmen, too. Does Carmen see you as a leech? A parasite, tethering to his family? To his work? Is that why he’s mad, right now? You’ve inserted yourself without asking— You’re so pushy— No, no, he likes that your pushy, you’re good. He doesn’t think that about you, he doesn’t actually think Richie is a leech either, he’s just saying shit to start shit. It’s working. He’s really stirring up shit.

“Oh, I’m fucking obsessed—” “You fucking leech—” “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” “I should’ve cut you out!” “Yeah.” “I should’ve fuckin’ cut you out!”

“I fuckin’ love you!” Richie points in Carmen’s face, and Carmen somehow manages to not give a shit. It does nothing, for Richie to have said this, and that is shattering. Sydney reaches for your hand, you don’t look at her, you only know it’s her because of the band-aids. You take it.

“You fucking need me!”

“I fucking love you!”

“You’re fucking nothing!”

“Don’t fucking say that!” That’s when you jump in. Practically call and response, for you. Your body processes what Carmen even said before your brain does. That was the straw. Carmen picked the wrong fucking one, to say that in front of. Carmen drew the line a lot of times, Carmen drew the line when he said to respect that Asshole— Quite frankly, Carmen drew the line with the broken sauce ‘you want a star’ bullshit with Syd— But this was the back breaker, for you.

You let go of Syd’s hand, moving to be in between the men, back facing Richie, defending him, “Don’t fuckin’ say that shit to Richie— To anyone, ‘specially not Richie.”

“Oh, like he’s some fuckin’ prize?” Your eyes go wide, like dinner plates. Carmen continues, “You wanna fix him, too? Add him to the list?”

“Fix him?” Is that what he thinks of you? That you think people need ‘fixing’? “I’m not trying to fix anyone, Carmen.”

“Didn’t try to fix Mikey?”

You straighten up a bit, whole brain dialing up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

You adore Carmen, but in this moment, you cannot help but think of all the utterly life ruining comebacks you could say to set him on his ass, right now. Bite your tongue, same team. “Oh, I’m excused?”

“You don’t fuckin’ work here.” Ouch.

“Oh, suddenly that’s a problem—”

“Think you’re the fuckin’ peoples’ princess—” Ouch.

“That is not what I’m doing—”

“No no, of course it’s not, you’re such a goddamn saviour, modern day Christ.” Ouch.

“Carmen—” Richie tries to step in front of you, you put the back of your hand on his chest, holding him back. Time for you to prove what you said, in your kitchen, just a few days ago. Time to prove to Carmen, and quite frankly, yourself, that you can take this. That you can take his teeth. Carmen gave you fair warning, that the shoe could drop, that he might do this. Your first fight. It came a lot faster than you expected, but fair warning’s a fair warning.

“Say what you wanna say, Carmen.”

“Where’s your fucking invoice?” Carmen’s never swore at you, you’re pretty sure. It feels weird, in your chest. Cornering. You frown. “You didn’t fuckin’ give it to Nat, don’t lie.”

“It’s complicated.” It’s a legitimate answer, to you. It is complicated. “We can talk about it, after—”

“I don’t need to be some fuckin’ charity tax write-off, alright?” Carmen interrupts, he doesn’t care to hear your explanation. He’s already decided your intentions, and that feels very unfair, doesn’t feel like you’re on the same team. “Just fucking charge me. You wanna work here? Fucking charge me.”

Is he trying to make your entire dynamic transactional? Why is he acting like this? What did you do wrong? Don’t tear up. You can take it. You can take the teeth, Tony, come on. “That’s not—”

“I don’t need fuckin’ fixing, alright, I’m not another fucking addict—”

You can feel bristle Richie behind you. You both handled that ‘fucking addict’ first hand, and you certainly don’t care for him to be referred to as such. You interrupt Carmen’s tirade, “Don’t say that shit—”

Carmen rolls back his head, like he’s tired of some sort of façade— Like you’re being fake. “Oh, my fucking God—”

“What! What the fuck—” “He’s fucking dead, you can say it— He was a fucking loser junkie—”

He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to start shit. Same team. He’s just hurt over something he hasn’t admitted yet. Same team.

“Carmen—” You can’t get a word out, with this guy. God, you wish this was at least behind closed doors. Wish he’d give you and Richie the grace of breaking you both down without an audience.

“And, and—” There’s a split second of manic laughter to it, he’s so incensed by the idea. “You, you fucking gave that junkie money?”

You’re quick to furrow your brows, emphatically shaking your head. Did you give him discounts on services and pay his diner tab on occasion? Sure. But that’s an entirely different thing. “I never gave Mikey a cent—”

“Oh?” Carmen shrugs, “So you don’t have a joint bank account?”

Oh.

Oh. Is that what this is fucking about? He found some paperwork or a debit card lying around and lost his shit? Carmen and Mikey are very different people, and you love that, but one of your least favourite differences is Mikey never circled the drain, when it came to what he didn’t like. Carmen’s spent forever, needling Richie, and then needling you over some fucking joint bank account? That still doesn’t feel like it, though. There’s gotta be something he’s not saying.

To be fair, you know how the man spirals, you were hoping to explain these weird leftovers from your history yourself. This is what the painting was for. You were supposed to start on the first page— God, at the very least, a softer page, one that makes it all make sense, for him.

“Carmen, I get why you may be confused, but I—”

“Don’t tell me I’m fucking confused. I’m not fucking confused— I— This is my fucking kitchen, alright?” Entirely nonsensical. Too many thoughts are stirring in his head.

It’s hard to keep your eyes from watering. Take the teeth, same team. It was easier to compartmentalize with Mikey, when he yelled at you, because his eyes were blown out, and you could tell that it wasn’t him talking to you. But this is a sober Carmen. This is what he deep down, somewhere, thinks of you, isn’t it? He doesn’t think you belong in his kitchen. Don’t belong here.

“That— That fuckin’ asshole out front, or whatever you fuckin’ call him?” He points to booth twelve, through the window. You are now reminded that there is a window, and that there are more people than just the kitchen, here, there’s patrons. If they craned their necks and listened close, the sound proofing would keep them from hearing Carmen, but you feel like they could probably hear the way your heart is struggling to keep pace.

“That’s me— That’s who the fuck I am. And I’m good like that, so—So if he’s a fuckin’ creep so am I. N’ I don’t need you comin’ in my fuckin’ kitchen, comin’ in my fuckin’ life, actin’ like you know better than me!”

“I never said I know better than you!”

“You didn’t need to!”

“I—” You swallow your spit. You have always tried to keep a level field, with Carmen. Since day one. “I never meant—”

“I don’t— I am not your fuckin’ charity case, you do not need to-to donate to me to make up for the fact that you failed Mikey!”

Yeah.

You can’t take these teeth.

Carmen Anthony Berzatto realizes a couple of things, seven things, in quick succession, after he says this.

Thing One. His middle name is Anthony. Tony. That’s kind of funny. He should tell you that, make you laugh. He never really thought about it, until now. Didn’t have one of those moments where his brain disconnects from his body as a method of escaping the poison in his mouth, so it can have plausible deniability, until right now.

Thing Two. You are not Mikey. He had gotten so caught up, over the past week, conflating the fact that you’re both so likable and so ‘The Guy’ with the idea that you’re just the same. You’re not. You don’t react to being pushed and screamed at, like Mikey did, you don’t scream back. You defend yourself, but you don’t bite back at him, the way he bit at you. You don’t fight. You don’t get mean. You are not Mikey. Carmen always took Mikey trying to help as him trying to one up him; a silent way of saying he was better. You are not Mikey. You helping around the kitchen tonight, helping him every fucking day, was never you trying to one up him— Let alone fix him.

Thing Three. Your cherry and lamb plate is nowhere to be seen. It’s only been like three, five minutes? Where’d it go? He can’t even find a plate of bones. You’re never going to speak to him again, after this, he knows that. He’s never going to hear straight from you what you thought, he needs to see if you cleaned the plate.

Thing Four. He didn’t even ask. He didn’t even mention the photos, the thing that he was actually hung up about. Carmen’s confrontational, but not in the way that matters. He yells, but it’s never the thing he actually wants to yell about. Those candles could’ve been for anything. How old was Eva, when you met Mikey? Carmen doesn’t know, he wasn’t here. Could’ve just been birthdays. There’s a million reasons to have those photos, there’s a million reasons to have a joint bank account. He should’ve asked. He should’ve listened when you were trying to explain. You were trying to explain. You had something to say. You even acknowledged how confused he must be. How confused must you be, right now? He didn’t explain why he was yelling, at all. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t listen.

Thing Five. Carmen wasn’t here. You were. You were here. He blames himself, for his brother’s suicide, and he wasn’t even here. And then there’s you. You were here, and you probably took Mikey on your shoulders the way you take everything on your shoulders. And he just said you failed. He never asked you, if you blamed yourself, but he doesn’t need to. Everyone blames themselves. God, why did he call Richie nothing? Richie was here, too. He’s not a fucking leech, he was here. And that’s a fuck of a lot more than Carmen did. It’s not just about when Richie put his brother in the ground, it was the years before, proceeding, that Carmen wasn’t here for, and both of you were. And he just fucking said that you failed. He said it was your fault.

Thing Six. Carmen glances over your trembling shoulders, out the window, to where he can just see the edge of his old Exec’s head. Who he’s just said he is. Ugh. He thinks back to when that man became Exec, and Carmen took over as head. He remembers the promise he made to himself, when he went back to his shitty New York studio apartment and cracked open an incredibly expensive bottle of champagne (gifted) to drink alone on his mattress with no bedframe. He promised himself that no matter how bad it got in the kitchen, no matter how bad it got in his head, he would never get in someone’s ear and tell them that they were no good, terrible, slow, useless, better off dead, dumb fuck. He promised himself, that he would never make someone cry in his kitchen.

Point Seven. He’s resented the fact for the past week, that he hasn’t gotten to be the first person to do a lot of things, with you. He’s resented how much he missed out on, how much he wishes it was him in the photos, in the memories. But now you get to be one of his firsts. You get to be the first person he’s ever made cry, in his kitchen. When his brain comes back to his body, and he repeats back to himself the exchange that just happened. Yeah, he’d cry, too.

You have wonderfully bright eyes. He didn’t tell you that, before. He should’ve. He gets compliments on his bright blue eyes a lot, but yours just have this glow from within, about them. A brightness that he doesn’t, a sweetness that his don’t. That’s gone now. Eyes go from wide to hurt to vacant. Gone. Devoid. Hand over your mouth to cover the wobbling of your bottom lip. You look like he did, two years ago, at the French Laundry. A shell of what he was. A shell of what you are.

Carmen was right, he is the man out front. That’s who he is. That’s what he is.

A husk, biting down on the hand that feeds; defending nothing from no threat.

Richie didn’t need to call you, to let you know that Carmen’s awful for you, that he’s an asshole to everyone around him, that he’s sharp and not worth your time. Richie didn’t need to call you, to tell you that he’s just some fucking creep Executive Chef, but this time, he doesn’t even have any stars to retain about it. Richie didn’t need to call you. Carmen told you himself who he is, just fine.

Please make eye-contact. Please look him in the eyes, you used to do it all the time. You might never look him in the eyes again, please do it one more time. He didn’t savour it, before, didn’t hold it, when he should’ve. He would’ve, if he knew it would’ve been the last time. He should’ve been savouring it every time. He should’ve kissed you, when you kissed him on the temple— He should’ve let you know. You’re so smart, when it comes to emotions and things— Everything. Intuitive. If you’d look him in the eyes, you’d be able to tell how sorry he is, how wrong he knows he is for saying everything he said. But you’re downcast, trying to zero in on something.

You swallow, blinking wildly in a failed attempt to stall tears, and nod imperceptibly, digesting his words. He wishes you wouldn’t. This is the last thing he’d want you to eat.

Sydney is already rushing to your side, her station long forgotten. “Yoyoyoyoyo—”

She’s distressed, because she cares about you, hurrying to comfort you, taking your hand, then arm, then shoulder. She’s trying to get you to look at her, you won’t. You won’t look at anyone. She’s crouching to get in your field of vision. “C’mon, c’mon—”

Richie is behind you, where he should be, already squaring himself up, making himself taller. Carmen has never wanted someone to hit him, he’s pretty sure, until right now. He just wishes it was you doing it. Fight him back, please. Break his jaw, permanently, please. Keep him from saying anything ever again. Keep him from making you make that face, ever again. He wishes it was you doing it, but he’ll take Richie as a close second.

Richie steps in front of you, grabbing him by his collar, good. “How could you fuckin’ say that shit to Chippy—”

“Please don’t call me Chip.” Is the first thing you say, voice quiet, cracking. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, hard, thumb nail digging in. Eyes closed. You’re trying to hold it down. “Not right now.”

And like a guard dog, Richie heels. Of course, Richie would find you more important than violence. He cares. You put a hand over Syd's, on your shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m good, Syd.”

Everyone knows you’re not good. Your voice cracks painfully, again, when you say you’re good. “Just gimme a second.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I know, Syd—” “Will you let me?” “I—”

You take one deep breath, slow, rubbing your thumb over her hand. She gives you a clean dish rag. You wipe your tears and blow your nose. When you lift your head back up, to face the crowd that is the kitchen, it’s like it never happened. Well, your face still has that puffiness and redness to it, and your eyes certainly look irritated and glassy. But you’ve gathered such resolve back, immediately. Hardened up, immediately. Turned off a sect of yourself. If Carmen didn’t know you, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell you were just crying.

“Apologize,” —He'll grovel to high hell— “To Richie.”

Carmen’s eyes flicker with confusion, just for a second, you catch it. You repeat, clearer. “Apologize to Richie. Say you didn’t fuckin’ mean that.”

Carmen doesn’t need a broken jaw, to go speechless, apparently. You don’t care to defend yourself at all, here. Never put yourself first. He frowns, you don’t take it the right way, no, why would you? You speak with an extra layer of gravity.

“Berzatto.” Hurts worse than when you say Carmen with disappointment. Deserved punishment.

“I’m sorry, Richie…Not nothing.”

“Not fuckin’ forgiven—” You put a hand up, turning your head to face the man behind you. “Rich.”

“Oh, don’t—”

“Say sorry—” “He fuckin’ started it—” “You didn’t have to entertain it.” “He was bein’ a bitch—” “Jerimovich!”It’s more fun, when you do it to Richie. More kindergarten teacher like, breaking up a fight at recess.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, Cousin.” Richie does not mean it. It’s okay. He doesn’t have to. He was right. Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

You turn back to Carmen, of whom you still will not make eye contact. That’s fair. “Can Richie take five?” He doesn’t like that you feel like you have to ask him for permission, now. “He’s gotta help me carry tools, to my car.”

That’s a chance to talk to you, alone. “I can—”

“No.” You shoot Carmen down quickly. “Richie’s got it. You’ve gotta keep your kitchen in order.”

That hurts. But he said it. He said it was his kitchen, he said you didn’t work here. You’re so much more than an employee. You’re family, everyone here treats you like family. This is your kitchen, too. He doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks, right now, but it also occurring to him that he said all that in front of everyone here, everyone who adores you. None of these people have seen this side of you— You didn’t come to the funeral. This is probably why. It’s pretty clear you don’t like crying in front of people, the way you immediately go somewhere else mentally.

Richie’s already walking, you didn’t actually ask him to grab your tools from the corner of the kitchen, but he just does it. Wordless. Richie knows how to show that he loves you. Carmen could learn, from that. Carmen could learn from Sydney too, she said it, and she’s still holding your arm.

Carmen takes a step forward to you, and what you mean by it, he’s not sure, but what he does see, is you take a step back. He immediately takes two steps back.

You’re very good. Too good, too good for anyone. Not gonna change my mind ‘bout that. That’s what he said to you, when you confessed you were worried he would ‘figure out’ you weren’t good. He lied to you. The other shoe dropped and he’s the one that made it.

You sniff, you feel bad for taking a step back, but you think if Carmen touched you right now, you’d have a full-blown meltdown, and you’d like to hold some modicum of respect amongst your peers here.

Carmen hates you. You didn’t expect that. But it’s fair. You’re not certain what he saw along with the joint bank account, but if he was able to put the pieces together, it makes sense. You failed his brother, failed Mikey. God, it’s still ringing in your ears. You killed him. Everyone knows that. Everyone hates you. He said the quiet thing, that everyone here knows, out loud. You didn’t do enough. You weren’t smart enough. You failed to do the one job you’ve been trained for, save someone, set them at ease— For fuckssake, just keep your friend from dying. Is that so fucking difficult? Was that so hard? He’s right to say it. You don’t have the right to be upset right now. He doesn’t owe you anything. You owe him.

You owe him.

You look to Syd, “You have a pen?”

You can tell she doesn’t like that you’re essentially blocking off the part of your brain that feels pain. What’d she expect? You were an E.M.T. for three years, you learned how to turn off your brain. She gives you the pen from her breast pocket anyways. You dig through your pants pocket for a slip of paper, oh shit, the note from Sweeps, you completely forgot about it. It’s a folded guest check, it says ‘B12’ on the front. Booth Twelve, you infer. You unfold and read Sweeps' chicken scratch. It’s nice to focus on something that isn’t the rotting feeling inside you… No fucking way.

“Sweeps!”

“Yuh-huh?” It’s nice that Sweeps has only just came back in from his smoke break. He has no idea why everyone’s shocked and/or enraged right now, and there’s something beautiful and perfect about that. Sanct.

“Did he seem serious?” You hold the note between two fingers for him to see and know what you’re talking about.

Sweeps shrugs, slipping his Marlboro pack into his inner breast pocket. “You can fuckin’ read that guy?”

A very fair call. You sigh, then flip the note over, it’s hard to write, using your hand as a pad, but it doesn’t really matter, neatness doesn’t matter. Just write it fast so you can get the fuck out of here and cry in your car about a boy that doesn’t love you and never will.

“Freezer door hotfix, eighty. Plumbing repair, took about four hours, that’s two-fifty. House call oven, seventy. Oven hotfix just now, plus replacement part costs… One-twenty.”

You hate doing this. It sucks to be doing this. This is what the fucking painting was for. Why couldn’t he just let you do it in the order you wanted? You were supposed to start this on a better page.

“Said I’d pay you back for that pinot, which is about twenty on wholesale, so… Five hundred even.”

You click and unclick the pen, several times, shoulders tensing. “I don’t think you need fixing, and I wasn’t trying to make up for anything. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

“I’m—” It’s the first time he’s tried to speak, and you just can’t let him. You can’t listen to his voice right now, you know it’s unfair, but you can’t, so you interrupt him.

“I didn’t tell Nat you covered the invoice.”

You hand him the note, careful to hold it at the very edges, so you don’t make contact when he takes it. “I owe you two thousand.”

At the bottom of your shoddy invoice, it reads, ‘Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. $2,500.’

You told him it was fucking complicated.

He should’ve let it lie. He should’ve bitten his fucking tongue, like you did for him constantly. You told Nat her brother covered the invoice; you just didn’t say which one. Was it intentionally sneaky? Yeah, obviously, because how were you supposed to fucking explain that? It’s fucking complicated. But no, Carmen didn’t fucking want to hear anything you tried to explain, so you’re just gonna let his stupid fucking dumbfounded face stay that way. If he just told you what he actually saw, like a fucking adult, you could’ve done so, happily. But Carmen hates you, and he’s decided what you are. He probably doesn’t want to hear much of your voice, anyways. Keep it short.

“So just… I’ll just uhm… Wire you. Or something.”

You sigh, thinking about what’s on the other side of that fucking note. “You have my number, you can give it to him, if you want.”

The Exec liked the cherry and lamb dish. Of course he would, it was perfect. It also seems like he enjoys that you’re both smart and clearly ‘spunky’, or some shit. He wants the ‘wine girl’s’ number. Didn’t even bother to remember you said Jack. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll send the mystical wine girl his close friend Michelin Guide Inspector’s number, and maybe they’ll review the place. Maybe. Doesn’t matter to you. Not your kitchen.

A chance at a chance at a chance or your well-being? That’s Carmen’s choice now.

You snap your finger, pointing to the note, remembering. You never brought The Guy a wine, “Pinot Noir. Marcassin 2013. Top left shelf. Pit a cherry and put it on the rim.” It's the perfect pairing, for his dish.

At least get him a star, if he has to hate you.

When you start to move, Syd’s still holding onto you. You don’t pull her off, but you do put your hand over hers, and she knows what you want. She doesn’t care. She repeats. “Will you let me?”

Goddammit. Does she want you crying all over again? You’re trying very hard to not look like a wuss, right now. “I will. Just need five minutes alone, okay? I’ll wait outside.”

She doesn’t want to, but you’re not giving her many other options here, so Syd nods and lets you go. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes.” You clap your hands together, eyes glazing over the rest of the staff. Rest of your family. You’re trying not to read their expressions because if you do you very well might scream, cry, and throw up all at the same time. “Everyone! Back to work! It’s half past five you’ve still got a whole night ahead, look alive, Chefs.”

You pass Carmen, careful not to bump shoulders. Just get out of here unscathed. Hopefully he’s not too mad about the dish swap. You made the right call. It won’t matter if he’s mad, anyways, actually, he already hates you.

At least be something of value, for him, if he has to hate you.

Richie’s out there, leaning against the trunk of your shitty 2004 Dodge Intrepid. How he knew it was yours, you’re not sure. Probably the goofy bumper stickers. It’s a piece of shit. Broken fob. You have to use your key to unlock the trunk. It still works. You speak at once.

“What the fuck was that?”

You both laugh, though it’s hollow. You unlock the trunk, Richie throws your tools in. He’s first to add. “You didn’t actually want me to fuckin’ apologize, did you?”

You shrug, head tilting back and forth, he kisses his teeth, you supplement. “Listen, the ‘you don’t have a kid’— Touch crazy.”

“He fuckin’ started it!” “I know he fuckin’ did, I’m not defendin’ him!”

You purse your lips. There was the other thing Richie said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral, Cousin.”

“Ah, oh…” Richie attempts to wave it off, shrugging, as if it wasn’t a huge fucking deal to him just two minutes ago. “It’s good—”

“It’s not.” You interject. Richie always says he’s fucking good, when he’s not. He’s not good about Tif, he’s not good about the Exec making fun of him, he’s not good about you abandoning him, for a year. “It’s not good, Richie, and I’m sorry.”

You swallow, closing your trunk. You attempt to remember bits and pieces of your prepared speech, from dinner. But this is reality, and typically once transferred from your mind, it makes the words so much clunkier, lines forgotten, here and there.

“I should’ve been here, after. It was fucked up, that I just left. Made you hold it down, by yourself, and— And I can’t fucking imagine, Richie, how hard that must’ve been.”

Standing in The Bear is a touch easier, because it’s so different now. But Richie was there, days after Mikey died, in The Beef. Taking smoke breaks with a shadow that was no longer next to him. Forced to keep morale up, all by himself. You can imagine how hard it must’ve been, and that’s exactly why you stopped coming around.

Richie can only bring himself to nod, swiping his nose, because it’s starting to run.

“I— I didn’t cut you out. I want you to know that.” Carmen was so cruel, with that shit. “That wasn’t me cutting you out. I— I was tryna cut myself out.”

He halfheartedly laughs, confused. “Fucks that mean, Cousin?”

“I—” How can you word this in a way that isn’t just as cruel? “I didn’t think we were friends.”

He mimics being shot. You add, “Fuckin’ listen—” “Fuckin’ drive-by—”

“I just didn’t think— I don’t think anyone’s my friend, I don’t think.”

“What’s that even begin to mean?”

“I… I feel like… I’m just like… So insecure, about my place in relationships, that like— Like I’m not worth people’s time. Like we were only friends because we were friends with Mikey and we were handling him and I was like— Like I was helpful. So, like, when he died, it was like… We— There was no reason, for you to be friends with me, anymore. No us.”

Richie takes a moment, to digest it. The silence is terrible for you though, so you continue. “I’m startin’ to realize, that not likin’ myself, can actually really end up hurtin’ the people I love—”

“I’d still love you, even if you weren’t helpful. By the by.”

Richie’s interruption hits you in the chest like a fucking freight train. “Oh Jesus Christ, Richie—”

“What? What the fuck—”

“That was just fuckin’ crazy.” You cover your eyes, tears already coming to a head. He’s relieved, you mean crazy like good.

“Fuck, Richie, I love you.” You sniff, trying to look at him through watery eyes, it’s near impossible to do without warbling. “Man… You were here.”

Now it’s Richie’s turn to have his tear-jerking trigger phase said. “Oh, don’t start, Chip—”

“You were fucking here, Richie, Carmen doesn’t fuckin’ get that— No one gets that.” You’re kind of blubbering, honestly, starting to point at him, speaking emphatically. It might be better that this is happening in the parking lot rather than in the middle of the restaurant.

“You’re fucking— You’re fucking something, okay? Carmen is a bitch, you were right— You’re good, Richie. You’re fucking good and—and— You were here, and you’re important, and— And— I didn’t fuckin’ say that enough, back then. So, I’m fuckin’ doin’ it now. I love you, and I’m here, and if fuckin’— If Eva ever needs anything, I’m there, if you’re ever in need, I’m there. If you just want to fuckin— Fuckin’ text someone, and actually just hang out like Normals—I’m there for that, too. I’d even go to fucking Tif’s wedding with you, if that helped.”

Richie’s got a couple tears going, which is good for you, because it makes your sobbing less embarrassing. “Fuck, Cousin…” He looks down, rubbing the bridge of his nose, like a self-soothing technique. When he looks back up to face you, he blurts it out.

“You wanna see a Taylor Swift concert wit’ me?”

Your response is immediate and baffled, “What?”

“I’ve got three tickets for me n’ Eva but Tif won’t come, it’s in January.”

You take a moment to buffer, brain half moving out of the tender moment. Shaking your head in disbelief, still fully crying.

“Richie… That sounds, like the worst experience I could ever imagine. You couldn’t pay me to write an outing so perfectly curated to be the worst, for me.”

“Don’t fuckin’ hate on T Swift—” “Richie, I’d love to.”

The death grip grab and hug is so immediate. You feel bad for getting tears and probably snot on his coat, but he said himself it’s a knock off, so he’ll live.

“You didn’t fail Mikey, Chip.” He kisses the crown of your head. Richie must be a good dad. You’d tell him that, but he might overload, the man doesn’t get acknowledged much, you’ve got to take it slow with the praise. You don’t reply to his sentiment, so he repeats it.

“Y’did everythin’ you humanly could.”

“I could’ve done a couple things different.”

“So could I. It my fault, too, then?”

You both know very well, that you blame yourselves. And as much as both of you would like it to, this one cry-fest isn’t going to magically make all of those bleeding guilts go away. Especially not after Carmen tore those stitches right back open.

“Well, no—” “‘Xactly.”

But you accept it, for the moment. “…Okay.” For this moment, you get the lesson.

And you’ll both forget it tomorrow, when you have that split second in the A.M. Where Mikey is still alive, before you remember. But right now, it’s neither of your faults that the glue between you died and left you both to figure out how to still stick together. You stay in that hug for quite a while, crying and rocking back and forth, before Richie lets go saying, “Aright, I do actually need a fuckin’ cig.”

“You’re going to give me second hand smoke and kill me.”

He smirks, already fishing out a loosie from his pocket. “We can only hope.”

Despite your complaints and not being a smoker, you still pull out a lighter for him. Mom friend. Never know when you’re going to need a fire. You cup the flame for him. This is the worst Friday of your life, you’re pretty sure. But here is Richie, sticking beside you. And here you are, sticking beside him.

Syd steps out, she keeps crossing between a walk and a jog to you two, unsure of what looks more awkward. You don’t know, but you do know the option of switching between both is easily the most awkward.

She asks, walk-jogging up to you, “Are you good?”

“I’ve been better.”

She grabs your face in her hands, reviewing your puffy bleary-eyed face. Just looking at it makes her want to cry, too. You hold her wrists. “M’sorry for cryin’ in your kitchen. I know that’s the type shit you deal with all the time—”

Richie and Syd speak in unison, a rarity, for them to be on the same page. “No the fuck it’s not.”

Sydney continues, “That was extremely not normal. Crazy fucked up of him to say that shit— I don’t even know like— Like any of the backstory, but even I know that was fucked up to say.”

You sniff, nodding slightly. “Yeah, a little.”

“A lot.”

You nod, no longer fighting to downplay it. That was fucked up of Carmen, you don’t need to try to make it seem less bad. “Yeah, a lot.”

She nods back, still holding your face. Bandaged fingers pressed against your head. “What d’you wanna do?”

“Go home?” Cry? Eat freezer cake?

“Well, yeah.” She chuckles, so you do too. “I mean like, like—” She nods behind her, to The Bear. What do you want to do going forward? Never talk to him again? I’ll do it, too. She’s saying, wordlessly.

“I— I don’t fuckin’ know.” You admit, laughing, but hollow. The very idea of reconciliation feels impossible, at the moment. “I think I’m just gonna, fuckin’ ignore it, until it comes up. Just don’t break shit until I figure it out, I guess.”

“Wedding gig is gonna be so awkward.”

“Oh, fuck—” Entirely forgot, about the wedding gig, next weekend. Vinnie and Mira, destination wedding. New York.

Richie pipes in, “Tonight’s gonna be awkward enough, don’t even wanna go the fuck back in.”

Syd nods, letting go of your face. “I think like, half the kitchen wants to walk right now, just to fuck with him. I do, too. Should we just say fuck this and go to Mattina?”

“Don’t think they’re open, only do breakfast and lunch.” Richie knows their hours; it wasn’t always just Mikey and you there. He takes a drag, he blows it away from you, so you don’t get second hand smoke.

“Fuck... Could do Denny’s? Inky, you fuck with Denny’s, still?”

‘Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.’ That’s what Carmen was scared of, exactly. What he thought would happen, if the other shoe dropped. Is this you leaving? This might be you leaving. This should be more dramatic, if this is you leaving, shouldn’t it? There should be finale music ringing in your ears, somehow. But instead, you’re in a parking lot with a chain smoker and your girl, making shitty diner plans.

You can’t let them leave Carmen. So much work cannot be wasted just for your hurt heart. You shake your head— Then nod, confusing yourself. “I—I do still fuck with Denny’s, but y’all have to go back in, you can’t fuck him over.”

“I very specifically want to fuck him over.” Syd’s quick to reply, Richie nods, agreeing. These two are only bonding over a mutual love of you and a current mutual hate of Carmen.

“You gotta get your star, Squid.”

She swallows, at that. She loves you, she does. But you’re right. You always are. This is her entirely livelihood and career, she can’t just dip out, because of a fight. She’s done it before, during the worst rush of her life, but that was small potatoes compared to this.

“Go hold it down,” You look at both of them, nodding to The Bear. “Don’t let anyone walk, solidarity is cute, but I’ll be okay.”

Regardless of how right you are, both Richie and Syd boo you. “Let him drown!”

It’s hard not to laugh. “Fuckin’ —guys— I’m serious.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious too, Chip!” Richie jabs at your shoulder, lightly, “Thought you said you take me fuckin’ serious?”

“Bitch—” You click your tongue, pointing at him, sighing. You can’t help but smile. They’re both on your team, to the bitter end. “I will see you at the wedding, aright? I’ll text you, both of you.”

“You driving, too?”

You and Syd both back up, for a second, expressions baffled. You’re first to ask Richie, “You’re driving?”

He’s equally confused. “What, you’re fuckin’ flying?”

“Cicero’s paying, why wouldn’t we?”

“Uncle Jimmy is fuckin’ paying?!” Richie gives him an emotionally charged chocolate covered banana and still hasn’t gotten on Uncle’s good side? This is bullshit.

“He’s paying for everyone! Or at least I thought he was—” Syd replies for you. “That was like the whole fuckin’ deal— Did you not get emailed a boarding pass?”

“No! He told me to get gas— You’re fuckin’ flying—?”

You clap your hands together, “Richie, what the fuck is going on in your life that this is not the first thing that you clarified for plans?” You tap Syd on the shoulder, “Marcus said he’s cool with switching seats, by the way, so we can sit together.”

“I have a fuckin kid, aright—”

“Ooohh—” You and Syd mock him in unison. “We get it.” “Whoop-di-doo.” “Did you hear, Squid?” “What’s that, Inky?” “Richie has a kid!” “What? No way. He definitely doesn’t bring it up all the fuckin’ time.”

“Alright, fuck you two.” He waves you both off. “Plane's gonna crash.”

Syd shrugs, “You’re doing a twelve-hour road trip, you’re gonna crash—”

“Fucks Inky mean anyways? Stupid ass nickname—” “Oh, like Chip is so original—” “Actually, a dead guy coined it, so betchu feel real dumb now—” “I’m not capable of feeling dumb—”

You interrupt, “Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful.”

That quells them with snorts of laughter, quickly. They both shove at you. Equilibrium.

You explain to Rich, “I called Syd ‘Squid’ in high-school— Literally just ‘cause it sounds funny, and uh, she felt jealous that she didn’t have one for me—”

“I don’t know if jealous is the word—” “So Inky just became the call n’ response. Cause, cause squid ink?”

“Yeah, I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I can do two plus two, Chip.” Richie tucks his hands in his pockets. It’s starting to get a little chilly. You’re now remembering you left Carmen’s jacket at expo. Goddammit, now you’re remembering Carmen and your heart hurts again. You hug your shoulders.

“What’s Chip, anyways?” Syd asks, you and Richie both cringe, just slightly. Syd mimics it. “Bad?”

You shrug, “Just… It takes a lot, to explain, I guess.” Personal. “We’ll need a trip to Denny’s, for that one.”

“So? Let’s go.”

What did you just say. “Bitch—”

“Heard.” Syd cuts you off, laughing. She gives you a tight hug. “Text me when you get home.”

You hug her back, even tighter, if possible. “I will.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” It’s been three years, since you were really daily friends with Syd. And though you clicked right back into place no problem, in this hug, the feeling really starts to set in of how much you two needed each other this whole time. It’s been so long since you both had a best friend. It was good to be apart, and learn things apart, but now you’re both back. It’s not just Richie that you returned to.

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” You clap her back a few times, before letting go. “Alright, it’s been like ten fucking minutes, go be great. Get a star. Or a chance at a chance for a star.”

“Heard, Chip.” “Heard, Ink.”

One last hug from Richie, before they head back in, and you pop in your car, and drive off. Back home. Music blasts from your radio the entire ride, to keep you from thinking. Screaming along to diss tracks help soothe the soul in any scenario, you think. Won’t let anything hit, this way.

A stray cat, the stray cat, the one you feed on your fire escape, is surprise surprise, on your fire escape, when you get home. She’s (you think she’s a she, you’re not super sure how to check, you’re a former E.M.T, not a Vet tech.) biting the flowers you potted out there. The flowers Carmen stole for you.

After a quick google check to make sure none of them are poisonous to cats, you let her. Let the cat decide how much of him stays. You dish out a pile of kibble for her on the one black plate Carmen gave you. You leave it on the fire escape, long after she finishes. Let the elements decide if it gets ruined.

Let Carmen breaking your text streak, never sending you a belated Connections result tonight, decide if this is the end.

This could be the end.

The same picture frame that fell off your wall, just two weeks ago, when you were making the painting for Carmen, falls again. You grumble, picking up the picture frame, setting it on the coffee table. You’ll nail it up properly in the morning. You roll your eyes at the phantom that you’re never certain actually haunts you.  “Mikey, shut the fuck up, this is your fault, y’know…”

You sigh, staring nowhere. The wind blows against your window.  “I guess it's both our faults.”

You drag your feet, walking to your bedroom.

“I know you said I’d be a perfect match for your little brother, but at this point, I’m taking that as a read.”

It was so fun for me, the way y'all were like, ah, i'm sure this'll be so painful when this is resolved next chapter because Carmen will scream at her about it. hahahahahhaha-- You think the least yet most direct bitch of all time was going to actually confront what he was upset about? NO1!!!!!!! WE'VE ONLY GOT MORE QUESTIONS NOW. WHAT THE FUCK CARMEN!!! What's with that Advanced Payment? And I didn't lie bro, go back and read it, Tony did say Nat's brother covered it. Sneaky sneaky....

Oh, also. Y'all thought I would let the freezer fight slide by? Naahhhh, golden moment of television, just delayed the inevitable muhahahahha and got the FAILED MIKEY?!?!?!?! BROOOOOOOO was it as bad as you thought it would be or no? worse? better? lmk

I loved writing Syd and Richie w/ Tony here. I can't believe any of you thought I wouldn't see Richie and Tony's much needed reconciliation through--- If this was a Richie fanfic, 100% this would've been their smooch moment, fr. Also if you're a taylor swift fan, please don't be mad at me i was doing a funny okokokokokok-- (I also just think it means a lot more, if it's something she doesn't want to do, but will, for him)

i know it's technically still 2022 in their universe but tony was in that fucking car ride home listening to fuckin Ain't Shit, HISS, euphoria, Like That, Not Like Us, Not Nice (YOUR MAMA AINT WORTH THE CRACK YOU SMOKE BITCH!!!!!!!) I know she was so heated in there.

We've got a taglist, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

I am sorry if your tag doesn't work this is why I hate tag lists tumblr always makes me manually type and sometimes it still don't even work...

As always, i'm always so grateful that you've given me your attention with reading, and if you have thoughts, i'd love to hear em! I always read your comments/reblogs too, even if I don't always reply. Adore y'all.

[ivylynnwood]

A Comprehensive Analysis of "NoseGate" - An Essay by Ivy Lynnwood

Workplace harassment - it is just one of the many rampant, yet little discussed issues that plague the American workplace. According to the article, "Workplace Harassment Statistics in 2023," "20% of American workers have been victims of workplace bullying (up from 14% in 2022)." Workplace harassment can come in a variety of forms including, "...verbal abuse, offensive conduct or behaviors, work sabotage, undermining work performance, and inappropriate use of power or authority (Setyan, 2023)." With workplace harassment being such a taboo topic, one would typically be hard-pressed to find examples of it in media... that is until stumbling upon the 2022 Adult Swim animated comedy, Smiling Friends. Season Two's eighth episode, "The Magical Red Jewel AKA Tyler Gets Fired," is a masterful depiction of workplace harassment, and it's various effects. Within the episode, protagonists Charlie Dompler and Allan Red hash out a past incident that had been haunting Charlie for a number of months. The following essay is not for the purpose of stating who is in the wrong, but rather to lay out what canonically happened in order for the reader to come to their own conclusions.

Where it All Began

In Season Two's episode, "The Magical Red Jewel AKA Tyler Gets Fired," Allan and Charlie are tasked with the important job of babysitting Mr. Boss' 18 year old son, Jason. Later on, while watching Jason in Mr. Boss' office, Allan remarks, "You know, it's weird we don't really hang out one-on-one much, do we?" to which Charlie replies, "Yeah, yeah, it's definitely been awhile uhm... I don't know if you remember this or not, but the last time we hung out, like, you and I, you actually sucked on my nose, so..." Charlie's statement references a scene from the series' pilot episode, "Desmond's Big Day Out," in which Allan does, in fact, suck on Charlie's nose. However, is Charlie's framing of the incident truly accurate to what happened? A full analysis of the scene is needed in order to fully understand each character's actions and motivations.

The above image is from a scene from the ending of, "Desmond's Big Day Out." This takes place after Allan remarks, "Yes, and I got my cheese back...nom," to which Charlie replies, "Aw, come here Allan, you crazy character," after pulling Allan into a friendly embrace and tracing his hand with his finger.

Allan then proceeds to commit the very act that has haunted Charlie throughout Season One and Most of Season Two: nose sucking.

Afterwards, Charlie can be seen pushing Allan away. The two then laugh together.

Allan then tries to suck on Charlie's nose a second time, to which Charlie backs away.

Charlie and Allan laugh it off a second time. Then Allan exclaims, "Nom," again, however this time, he does not try to lean in and suck Charlie's nose. It can be inferred that Allan had learned by that point that his actions were making Charlie uncomfortable, which is why he chose to stop.

It is important to note that Charlie was the one who placed his hands on the other first. We do not know if whether or not Allan was uncomfortable with Charlie touching him, as he does not say anything or make any gestures that can be interpreted as discomfort. Regardless, this could already be counted as misconduct, as it can be argued that he should not have touched Allan to begin with, especially within their workplace. Allan's act of sucking Charlie's nose in response will come off as confusing to most audiences. It could be seen as a form of Allan playfully reciprocating Charlie's initial gesture, as Allan is often depicted as an individual with many quirks. However, it is also important to consider that we do not know the full extent of critter culture and social customs. While Allan's nose sucking can be seen as friendly and playful, it could very well have been Allan expressing his distaste towards Charlie's actions, or some other unknown emotion. Overall, Allan's true intentions behind sucking Charlie's nose are unknown, however it is obvious that Charlie was uncomfortable with that, but this should not disqualify the fact that Charlie touched Allan first.

Present Day

Nearly two entire seasons later in, "The Magical Red Jewel AKA Tyler Gets Fired," the aforementioned event of Allan sucking Charlie's nose is brought up again. Charlie claims that it was necessary to, "...hash it out..." so they, "...can hang out more..."

Allan, upon being confronted by Charlie for his actions, replies in a shocked tone, "What? I don't remember doing that." Whether or not Allan was telling the truth in this statement is unknown, however, evidence suggests that this may very well be the truth. In "Desmond's Big Day Out," before the encounter between the two, Allan was attacked and crucified by an army of bliblies, which had infested the Smiling Friends office.

According to an article by Harbor Psychiatry and Mental Health, "Traumatic experiences can have a profound effect on memory function, often leading to memory loss as a coping mechanism...This impairment can stem from physical or emotional trauma, with memory loss serving as the brain's way of processing and managing the experience (Harbor Mental Health, 2023)." The physical and emotional damage that Allan suffered from that day was certainly enough to result in memory loss, especially in terms of a short-lived interaction that took place not too long after the main event. For Charlie, that day was rather normal, considering that he mainly spent his day out of the office doing his job, so he is much more likely to remember such an interaction.

Despite Allan's lack of memory of the initial interaction, he is clearly distraught by what he had done in the past.

It is clear in his facial expressions (see above image), body language, and tone of voice that he clearly regrets his actions and the distress that he has caused Charlie. After Charlie explains what had happened, that fateful day, Allan responds with, "Sure, I- I honestly don't remember doing that but- well, yeah, if I did, I'm sorry. I just don't remember doing that but it sounded like it really bothered you." An interesting thing to note is how, during Allan's attempt at an apology, Charlie interrupts him to remark that the incident had happened "recently," however, the event had taken place before both Halloween episodes, suggesting that well over a year had passed in-universe. Whether or not this is a case of Charlie misremembering the incident, or just being so distraught by it that it felt more recent that it truly was is up to interpretation.

So Charlie finally admits his feelings about the incident and Allan gives a decent apology in return. The logical next step would be to just move on and allow time to heal any remaining wounds, right? Unless...

Present Day Part Two: The (Temporary) Death of Jason

During Charlie and Allan's confrontation, Jason suddenly screams, then dies immediately afterwards.

Charlie begins to search Mr. Boss' desk for anything that might help, then momentarily gets distracted by Mr. Boss' manifesto. Allan tries to calm Charlie down and says, "Charlie, there is nothing we can do." Charlie, undeterred, attempts to perform CPR on Jason (in an incorrect fashion). Charlie accepts defeat, and Allan replies, "Yeah, I already told you that."

Later on, Charlie and Allan try to get Glep to pretend to be Jason for the rest of his life in order to avoid the inevitable consequences. Glep eventually becomes fed up with the situation and leaves. Allan says, sarcastically, "Great idea, Charlie," to which Charlie responds, "At least I'm trying to think of stuff, man!"

Allan argues, "Well, maybe if you weren't talking my damn ear off we would have noticed something was wrong with him in the first place!"

Allan's argument begs an important question: would they have even noticed something was wrong with Jason had they not been arguing previously? Mr. Boss states at the beginning of that episode that Jason is "super low maintenance," and that if he were to need something, he would let them know. In the scenes following up to his death, Jason doesn't give any sort of major signal that something was wrong. He simply sat there, as he typically does. Jason dies immediately after screaming, so there was no time for Charlie and Allan to help him. It could be argued that Charlie did technically try to help Jason, however this was after he died. Allan recognized that Jason was dead and did nothing because there is simply nothing that could have been done.

Back to the argument, Charlie exclaims, "Woah, woah, this is not my fault, dude. You were the one that was on the phone the whole time and you were not paying any attention at any point!"

While Allan was on his phone previously, he was technically paying at least some attention to Jason, as he says early on, "Is it supposed to be doing that?" in response to Jason breathing noisily. Charlie responds to this with, "Yeah, that's like his whole shtick." It should be noted that Jason does not make this heavy breathing sound in any of his other appearances, which means that this could very well have been a sign, albeit a very subtle one, that something was wrong. Allan was the one to question this behavior, and Charlie thought nothing of it. It should also be noted that Charlie shifts all of the blame onto Allan, suggesting that Jason died because he wasn't paying any attention. But what was Charlie doing at that time? Wasn't he also not paying attention? Why doesn't he take any responsibility, considering that he agreed to help watch Jason?

Allan goes on to argue, "Fuck you, I was checking work emails, you yellow son of a bitch!" with this insult implying racism. This is not the first time Allan has engaged in such behavior, as is shown in the episode, "A Allan Adventure," in which he calls Armzo, a critter with several arms, "spider." Whether or not Allan truly feels this way about other critters is unknown, as he very well could have just been frustrated. However, one could argue that in these modern times, there really is no good reason to insult someone based on race or appearance, and that Allan's insults were just terribly "low hanging fruit."

Onto the physical portions of the altercation! Allan and Charlie begin arguing back and forth over who killed Jason. Allan is the first to make things physical, by slapping Charlie's hand. Charlie understandingly responds by slapping him back in a similar fashion.

After various kicks and punches from both sides, Allan once again reaches for low hanging fruit and punches Charlie in the nose, a spot that he had previously established as a place he would rather not have touched.

Charlie responds to this by attempting to choke Allan. While Charlie seemingly won the (physical) fight in the end, it can be argued that his win was not a fair one. While Allan did punch Charlie's nose, he did not try to full on kill him. However, it is also unclear if Charlie's true intent was to ultimately choke Allan to death, or to simply give him the illusion that he was going to do so.

The Verdict

Allan and Charlie would ultimately end up confessing that Jason died while in their care, and then embrace each other once he was revived by the magical red jewel. At this point, it is safe to say that they have put aside their differences for the common good of Jason, and perhaps have even made up (though it remains unclear if there was any forgiveness on either side). However, there is a fairly good chance that none of these events would have had to happen had Charlie and Allan been educated on proper workplace conduct. It is truly horrifying how such a small gesture can ultimately progress into such catastrophic, and even fatal, events. The story of Charlie and Allan proves that workplace harassment is no laughing matter, and that we as a society need to improve upon how we conduct ourselves in public environments, as well as work towards establishing rules that can help to keep ourselves and others safe. So next time you find yourself thinking about sucking your coworker's nose, remember Charlie and Allan, and think twice about your potential actions.

Sources:

Setyan Law - Workplace Harassment Statistics in 2023

Harbor Mental Health - Does Trauma Cause Memory Loss?

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Static Shock

Debuting on September 23rd, 2000, Static Shock was an animated series centered on a teenage hero named Virgil Hawkins. Virgil gained electricity-based superpowers following a strange experiment where the youths of an urban area were exposed to a mutagenic gas.  Naming himself ‘Static,’ Virgil donned a costume and set out to use his powers to protect his community from evil doers.  

Although many of the episodes were self-contained, the series took place in the broader DC Animated Universe and numerous cross-overs saw Static teaming up with Batman, Green Lantern, Batman Beyond and the Justice League.  Indeed an episode of Justice League set in the future showed that Static would ultimately go on to become an important member of the League and one of the world’s greatest superheroes.  

Created by Dwayne McDuffie, Denys Cowan, Michael Davis and Derek Dingle, Static Shock ran for four seasons totaling 52 episodes.  The cast included Phil LaMarr as Virgil Hawkins, with Jason Marsden, Kevin Michael Richardson, Michele Morgan and Kadeem Hardison in recurring roles.  

🎵Superhero Static Shock (woo woo)🎵

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 2 (episodes 1-5)

Episode 1 - Monsters and Chimeras

I didn't mention it in the liveblog of season 1, but I think it is probably common for a person in a group of adventurers to be a scribe/quest journal keeper.

(putting on a crepinjurgenite tinfoil hat) We know that Kerubim keeps one canonically, and that as a child Joris liked scrap booking, so my headcanon is as follows:

While travelling alone, Joris keeps a private travel journal nobody is allowed to read (it has: drawings and photos of views he found beautiful + quick sketches of maps and notes on environment to refine at home (HE'S CANONICALLY INTO CARTOGRAPHY, BESIDES PHOTOGRAPHY) + he gets sappy&mentally ill about it all, so it's cringe to him.) (Unsurprisingly, it never contains any sensitive political data or his objectives, and if he does need to write something like that down, he tears that page out asap)

Atcham doesn't keep journals as a rule (having a literal paper trail might reveal to the investigators the location where he hid the bodies)

While travelling as a group, Kerubim keeps the journal, and it's a pretty pragmatic one (for him. He writes down the most random things, from important info, to actual fucking recipies he learned and personal notes à la "NOTE! next morning after we exit the tavern i should buy tangerines. i think Joris is beginning to suffer vitamin C deficiency but is keeping silent about it as usual"). Unlike Joris, he isn't into photography or doodling, HOWEVER, he will purposefully ask Joris to take photos and draw maps/landmarks in that journal. Because Joris is good at it. (And because he has had a folder of Joris's art through ages 4-600 in a hidden room in the house, all framed and sorted alphabetically, and he NEEDS more items in the collection.)

Episode 2 - Rubilaxia

It was mentioned at the end of the previous episode that Eva would be making her way through the Cania plains, and I am glad the series shows us at least one of the unique rocks found in Cania.

I don't know why, but it feels nice when the games and the cartoons represent the same place the same way. That's why I'm pointing that out.

Episode 3 - Remington Smisse

(coughs) This sword appears in episode 1 of the critically acclaimed (and worldwide-beloved) show under the name "Dofus: Aux Tresors de Kerubim"

Once again, the show has been planting seeds for Adamai's joker arc for its entire run, and still managed to squander it during season 3.

I have never seen a show fumble the bag that bad, I'm sorry.

Episode 4 - The Return of Percedal

Big believer in rubitristeva. A family can be a dad and swdad (sword dad) and a mom.

Episode 5 - The Dragon Pig

Wakfu Cannibalism Counter: 1

The reason I point this out is that, with every instance of inter-adventurer cannibalism in canon, the chance that Joris, Kerubim, and Atcham have tasted human flesh (outside of Waven) grows.

On the topic of Waven Cannibalism Lore, strangely, porkassess, AKA the pig people who are stuck in a mutual cannibalism war with Bonta under Joris's rule (technically not cannibalism because they are a different sentient species from twelvians, similar to goblins and bworks, but I doubt it's much better...) worship the minor god Ougah (who is a mushroom)

It is unknown (at least, to me) what the hell the Dragon Pig is.

But he is definitely tasty.

While they were busy grinding their professions and doing pizzlarva quests, he was dungeon crawling with his guild.

Also, let me be real, the whole conflict of "boo-hoo, nobody respects Tristepin" is random, mean-spirited, and out of character, inserted into the show simply to create conflict. Tristepin got resurrected after weeks of them thinking he was dead. They should not, logically, treat him this way (at least yet).

Reasons I think Dragon Pig might be an immortal, perpetually reincarnating/perpetually killed porkass: Does this to a person who lives in areas surrounding Bonta.

[ruddyhotelau]

Where's Adam in this? I like the au tho.

Is Adam taking Lillith's place?

Ok so we seen a lot of people been asking us this and we must said:

We don't know where he is now

Our AU is a Swap AU and Adam swap with Eve so that means it's very important for us to know where Eve currently is in the canon show which is also something the series haven't told us.

Our AU haven't had everything planned out so I hope you guys be patient because even though I know you guys love Adam very much but since he is going to swap place with Eve, that means he's going to be more mysterious, more of an unknown force so it's obvious that we want to keep him like a little secret in this AU.

So Adam fan, we sure have a big plan for him so please be patient for his appearance, thank you >=333

[peachalieart]

2024 game journal entry ✨️

I grew up with the Final Fantasy series, so delving into its newest entry was a great adventure.

Pages written out under the cut.

Final Fantasy XVI logged into the game journal.

Full post under the cut.

Final Fantasy XVI

Start date: 12/16/2023

End date: 2/5/2024

Platform: ps5

Hours played: 137 hours

Positives:

- characters were compelling, and I genuinely cared about them

- lore was very engaging

- combat felt fun and snappy

- side quests were engaging and fleshed out the world a lot!

Negatives

- very easy to get over-powered very quickly

- a LOT of side quests! I loved the lore but sometimes it was hard to get back to the main story

- no chocobo theme :(

Final Fantasy is a series I've grown up with. I remember sitting on the floor of my cousins playroom at 9 years old, both of us freaking out over how much we loved Squall. Despite that, it's been a while since I genuinely enjoyed a modern Final Fantasy title, so I went into this with cautious optimism, and I was greatly rewarded with a game I thoroughly loved!

When I heard the phrase "mature Final Fantasy" I was afraid it would be misery porn. A lot of the time people seem to think of "mature" as frit, gore, sex, profanity, and death for deaths sake because the equate maturity to misery. Nit only did this game avoid being overly miserable and edgy, but it leaned into themes of hope and positivity while not straying from themes of grief. It was a refreshing approach.

I had one gripe with gameplay, and that was I felt very overpowered early on. I quickly fixed it by only doing plot necessary fights and leaning into story over playing around in the field. Sometimes the side quests felt like they pulled away from the main story during moments of urgency (even if I loved the side quests) which sometimes made the pacing jarring. I can't, however, imagine the game without them. They breathed an incredible amount of life into the world, so I learned to enjoy them as breaks and a breather between action.

Something I really valued was how the game set up a villain to be BIG and IMPOSING, a threat to be reckoned with, and time after time it delivered on that feeling. No boss or built up force felt like it was a let down. If an event was shown to be life or death, it truely was life or death!

"It wasn't a good death we should be fighting for, but a better life."

I didn't expect to love Clive as a character as much as I did, but I'm a sucker for a man who goes through unspeakable trauma and comes out the other end kind. It was also nice to finally have an older protagonist.

While talking about characters, I found myself feeling deeply for all of their struggles. The world felt big and lived in, and the characters themselves felt alive. Towards the beginning, when Cid died, I remember thinking, "wow this is actually rough. I really liked Cid!" I remember thinking, "the deaths of any more main characters would be painful as I get to know them more is THAT hurt!" So I was hoping it wouldn't happen! And oh boy... this game isn't afraid to kill it's darlings.

By the end, I was sitting with my mouth hung open like "oh okay, they really just did that."

But I think it was the perfect ending, the only way to end a game that places importance on life after grief, on a legacy, on choosing your own life AND death, on planting a seed you'll never see grow into a tree.

"My dad always said there's two ways to live life; chasing after a dream or slowly shuffling to your grave"

Sometimes, I need that message of hope. Humanity is messy. We don't have a reason to go on, but we do. We reach out for a shoulder to lean on and keep going even if it seems hopeless to do so long down the line.

That part is very much true.

[dredgesnails]

i genuinely think the people who insist the life series is scripted just don’t understand the difference between something scripted and something that’s been given a basic premise and directives that everyone involved in agrees to play along with for the bit. like, no, specific moments aren’t scripted, but there’s a reason the series isn’t just “best pvper wins” and it’s because they deliberately prioritise entertainment over pure skill because the same person winning every time just wouldn’t be fun.

like, for the most part they’re a bunch of drama kids who have been given the perfect playground to act out the shakespearian tragedy of their dreams (some more so than others) (hello rendog) and they’re given the tools and situation to do so but everything else is just improv. and they’re also just having fun like i think we should all remember they’re doing this to have fun with their friends and play on a server where anything goes and they can grief all they want and sometimes they’ll just make stupid mistakes like walking off the side of a diving board and dying because they were so miffed about losing to a best tower competition they forgot where the stairs were, or blowing themselves up with their own tnt trap because they placed one block in the wrong place.

also i think people forget just how generally predictable people are in general, like after five seasons you can definitely start to guess how people will behave because they’re just like that. joel is reckless and he likes to poke the bear, martyn is good at staying alive but not good at keeping hearts (the difference between winning limlife and going out early in secret life), scott is good at the social game and a formidable opponent but also terribly self sacrificial, bdubs will betray anyone he’s allied with if offered something good, etc etc etc

[chirpsythismorning]

Ya'll catch the final rose ceremony at the end of s4?!

[pharawee]

—You put on a facade like it's all cool, but deep down, you’re really hurting inside.

[timethehobo]

Am super excited to age up my darling Inquisitor for the new game. 😭 I’ve missed him so much.

[junoverses]

I love being the defender of games that end up being kinda polarizing in their respective communities. I fucking adore Zero Time Dilemma for how stupid it can be, Nirvana Initiative might be my personal favorite Somnium Files game (at the very least until we maybe get that third game,) Danganronpa V3, for all its problems was extremely fun to see develop. I think the "Apollo Justice" Ace Attorney trilogy is a lot of fun (extremely generous name aside) and introduces probably my favorite character in the series with Blackquill. I feel like people focus on a game's supposed quality more than they do about how much fun they have with it. I get that quality (or lack thereof) can very much affect how much you enjoy something, but did you have fun with it though? I think it's important to at least try and interact with something on its own terms for a bit, to take it seriously as much as it wants to be no matter how silly, because games are supposed to be a fun experience, whether it be a satisfying gameplay loop or theorizing about and analyzing a game's narrative and individual plot points

[mollysunder]

I recognize there would be a lot of emotional and narrative weight if Jinx ever puts on Silco's jacket.

But wouldn't it be DOPE as hell if Jinx stole Finn's wardrobe!!??!

For all of Finn's faults he had a killer sense of style. Finn's look makes a great contrast to Silco, because Silco's look balances elegance with simplicity and practicality (you can tell he restitches his pant seams), but with Finn you've got this brightly colored intricately detailed look to express this newer brasher generation in Zaun.

And you could argue Jinx is designed as a decent blend of these two different aesthetics, at least in Gilded series.

I've already talked about Gilded universe where Piltover never built the sun gates, Jinx suspiciously dresses like a chembaron.

But if you dive deeper into the concept arts you can see how flexible Riot's artists see Jinx's tastes and style is, especially when elevated with wealth.

You've got classic punk + eccentric cybergoth chemboss.

Then you've got Jinx as an ornate lady with chemtech business vibes. (Jinx with glasses, what a concept.)

I'm not sure what to call this, but it looks like more of a mix between a saboteur and a tinkerer.

The rest are more play around with trying to adapt Piltovan academia into Jinx's aesthetic with varying success.

Long story short, Jinx needs to raid Finn's closet next season. I see Jinx threatening what's left of Finn and Renni's gang into submission for the whole "attempting to kill Silco" thing. One of her demands is all of Finn's clothes for her to customize as she pleases. I'm sure Silco left all her all his coats, cloths, and furs for Jinx in his will (with a clause to ensure she still gets it in case of manslaughter).

[aroacehanzawa]

whats ur beef?

My favourite manga lost the plot so now i cope by being a hater 👍

[knifearo]

reblog a post about aromanticism and it'll feed you for a day. make a post about aromanticism and you'll get mind-numbingly amatonormative comments for a lifetime