#i've actually managed to get some writing done this past week so i was able to share a bit from the WHF fic

[the-commonplace-book]

WIP Wednesday Game

originally shared by @tanoraqui tagged by: @runawaymun

Here’s how it works:

In a new post w/ rules attached, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIP LIST: 

1. unfolding 2. Pocket Change (Arthur) 3. aw shit, here we go again 4. Argumentum Novitatis Transcript (Part 1) 5. Miraculous TTTE Crossover

no pressure tags for: @djangodurango @monstroso @exeggcute @wigglewyrms @sasusquatch @via-ru88-blog @ourladyoftheundcrground and anyone else who wants to

SNIPPET:

from chapter Small Mercies chapter 14, file name: Pocket Change (Arthur) Arthur groaned and peeled his face off the crumb-ridden shag rug he found himself on. His stomach churned just at the act of sitting up.  “Where…” he murmured, but it all came back to him. Slowly, in bits and pieces.  He’d gone asking around about odd jobs and wound up in a pub due to his grumbling stomach. There was something about some students offering him a drink. One of them saying he looked a sorry state.  The rest was a muddy haze.  Did I spill out some sob story? I think I must have.  At some point the man who was now snoring on the orange botanical print sofa had patted his shoulder in some reassuring way and said something along the lines of, “Sorry you went through that, mate.”  There were a couple others scattered around the room. One asleep in an arm chair, another passed out face-first a few feet away from where Arthur now sat by the record player. He reached up to remove the needle and stop the crackle. His mouth tasted rancid. A vague unpleasant memory of throwing up fizzed to the surface. He’d have mourned the lost calories, but he couldn’t recall eating much of anything last night. Just the world wobbling around him as he succumbed to inebriation.

[noxtivagus]

SHADOWBRINGERS.... listening to the song again n oh god i love the lyrics so so much we r ignoring the fact that i have to wake up in like less than 4 hours

[carmenized-onions]

Loosen Your Grip. | R & D

logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Are you fucking kidding me?!” 

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

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

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

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

Gratitude. Highlight reel?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s snowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I got it, T, just spot me—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want the old one?”

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

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

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

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

“I know it didn’t! That’s the point!”

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

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

“...And you want that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So where should I send flowers?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just— We’ll talk eventually—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I account for a thousand dollars?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Microgreens.” Says Syd. 

“Yes. Do less of that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cicero.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think the chargers are kinda stupid.”

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

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

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

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

“You got somethin’ better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A lot high.” He corrects.

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

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

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

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

“Does he now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your options are fucked.”

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

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

“What’s the main cost on R and D?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A short amount of time, angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, we probably wouldn’t go, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buying is insanely overpriced.” Answers Computer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dad—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Adamu?!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I’ll do it for eight—”

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

She sighs, “Trying to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. Con. Same.”

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

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

“No shit I wear underwear!”

“Okay! It’s important to note!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Crime is bad in January.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yessir.”

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

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

“Oh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds fucked.”

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

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

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

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

“Tricks?”

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

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

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

He’s the best? 

He’s the best. 

He’s the best. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d agree.”

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

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

“Loosen your grip, Carmy.”

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

“Come to dinner with us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[ch4osworld]

THE PASSENGER

Chapter 3

Words:889 @cherry-4200 @adaizel

Ok so you guys before you read this i must tell you that it actually sucks ass. I didn't have time to plan anything for the fic this week as it was literally full of things to do and to not let you all without an update for too long i did this monstrosity. I did it in like some minutes and it was a last minute thingy but i promise that the plot of this fic is good i just can't write happy things in my "poetic" style for the death of me so i had to improvise. Again i am deeply sorry for whatever this is.

A few years have passed since Lilith's disappearance and Lucifer depression was really getting to him, but you always managed to help him through it. After she was gone you stopped travelling around hell and started living with him and Charlie. You loved navigating through the inferno, as much as it was grotesque, but Luci was your top priority. It seemed like he was getting, happier, in a sense. You didn't have to help him as much as you did in the past. It seems your sweet reassurances were useful for once. His joyous demeanor was slowly creeping through the cracks filled with suffering. Charlie was a fully grown woman by now, you were so proud of her, of what she has become. She recently started some sort or project, a hotel to redeem sinners. Her dad wasn't really...fond of her dream, but you supported her as much as you could. Her and Lucifer lost a lot of their relationship. They were....distant, she did love him, as much as he did love her, but it saddened you to see them grow apart. After Lilith's disappearance you started to care for Charlie as if she was your daughter, she was so young when she lost her mom, she needed someone to care for her like only a mother could, and you decided to fill that role. After a while she got accustomed to you, she grew to love you, to see you as family, even when the thought of Lilith still lingered inside her. She was such a sweet girl, you were sure she could do it.

As for Lucifer, your feelings for him never went away, they only grew the more you were togheter, and it was the same for him too. He loved you oh so dearly. He desperatly wanted to make a move, but he was afraid, deathly afraid of it. Lilith was still in his heart, y/n helped him a lot to move on, but he still wasn't ready. You decided to plan something for you and Luci to distract him and help him get better. And what's more relaxing then swimming? You searched for him among the intricate corridors of the castle, founding him in his room, making another rubber duck: "Oh Luciiiii~" you exclaimed, catching his attention, slowly moving your way towards him "Oh! G-good morning, do you need something? I am quite busy right now as you can see...uh...you can stay here with me and help me! If you want..." He replied. He was starting to get more nervous around you and you felt guilty about it, you thought that maybe you did something wrong. If that's the case then the pool day might be able to help him forgive you you hoped "Uh, are you almost done with that? I planned something for us today but we could do it later if you're busy" "NONONONO! I-I am happy to do anything if it's with you–uh I mean don't worry, we can do it now!" He spluttered, as he looked away from you to hide his growing embarassment "Ok so uhm, I've noticed you are recently getting more stressed, soooo you know the pool you have but that you basically never use? What about having a relaxing pool day with nonother than me?" Lucifer contemplated the idea, but of course he accepted. How could he not when you were so excited to spend the whole day with him? "YES–uh of course I accept" "PERFECT. I'll wait you in there while you get ready byeee!" You exclaimed, as you burst out of the door, a sigh coming out of his lips. You were hopeless, but he loved you for it, plus it was an excuse for him to see you in a bikini. He got ready for the pool and made his way there, you were already waiting for him in the cool water and oh my god was he a sight to see. You had to physically  restrain yourself from watering down your mouth, the same was to be said for him though "Ehy, sorry if I didn't wait for you, it was just so fucking tempting" you said looking up at him "It's fine, i guess you'll just have to WATCH OUT!" He exclaimed diving into the water "OH COME ON LUCIFER FUCK YOU I WASHED MY HAIR YESTERDAY" you shouted at him, him exploding in a fist of laugher "that's what you get for not waiting for me". You sighed, he was hopeless, you were truly infatuated with him weren't you? "You owe me something for this mister" you told him, crossing your arms "yeah yeah sure" he replied giggling. Oh god you were such a sight in that, it was hard not to kiss you right then and there. "Uh do you hear that too?" He said all of a sudden "hear what?" "My phone's ringing, wait a sec" he replied, teleporting his phone there. He started at it for a second before screaming "OH FUCK IT'S MY DAUGHTER WHAT THE HELL DO I DO!" "Luci, calm down. Breath in and out it's going to be fine, now be a good dad and respond" "Yes yes you're right" he cleared his throat while finally responding to the call "Ehy bitch!" Ok maybe he was more hopeless than you thought.

[farfromstrange]

A small update from yours truly—and a little over sharing, so I’m putting it under the cut.

I've been in an awful mindset these past couple of weeks since I was diagnosed with PCOS. I haven’t talked about it yet because it’s hard for me to even think about. But the fatigue and the pain are getting worse again, even with the supplements I’m taking so far, and I wanted to share it with you so you know what’s going on. My doctor referred me to another doctor, but the earliest they could get me in was January. Until then, I have to deal with the symptoms on my own. I honestly thought once I knew what was wrong I’d get better, but learning that chronic illness is actually chronic is a really hard pill to swallow. It’s manageable once you figure shit out, but getting a doctor’s appointment these days and being taken seriously when you can’t stomach birth control is like the Hunger Games. You have to be really fucking insistent when you want to get things done.

I’m still slowly working my way out of my writer’s block, and I'm proud of myself for getting there. I'm trying not to set expectations for myself and just take it one day at a time, which is working so far. I think I’m writing more consciously now, too. As someone who needs to create because she has too many thoughts it can get frustrating to burn out so quickly, but at least I’m starting to have fun with writing again (thanks to the DDBA trailer I’m still not over and it’s been idk how long you guys feel me).

On a slightly better note though, and the reason I’m writing this is that I’ve been spending the past two weeks since my last post preparing for vacation. I’m flying to Croatia on Sunday for a few days, which I very much need after the year I’ve had so far. I’m taking the time to recharge before I have another module exam at the end of September. So, I probably won’t be posting a lot the next two weeks, BUT I am writing. I just don’t have enough time to edit anything to the point I can comfortably post it. I will, however, use the time I have to catch up on some reading and do some reblogging. It’s a good use of my flight time, plus my parents will be driving back so I’ll have twelve hours to kill in the car. And who knows, maybe I can finish at least one update before I have to head to the airport. Just wanted to let you know that I’m not gone again, I just really need that vacation before I have my last exam this semester. After that, I have almost three weeks of nothing, which means I'll be able to focus on myself, my health, and my writing.

I’m also writing this to tell you guys I will definitely be participating in Kinktober again this year, though I decided to put a little twist to it. Last year was fun, but I want to do it a little differently this time. I’m currently working something out, and the announcement will come sometime in the next couple of weeks!

Maybe a different climate will give me some more writing inspiration, too. Thank you guys for reading this far. Take care of yourselves 🤍

[kafus]

pasting a ramble i did on discord of analysis/conjecture/headcanons about liko's home life/upbringing, with strong likodot flavor in the latter half as usual, nearly verbatim because i think i worded it pretty much perfectly the first time while relaying my thoughts to friends... just edited for easier reading slightly

liko doesn’t canonically show attachment issues or abandonment worries really, but i headcanon her with some of that because like. parents busy all the time. not a lot of people in her life and the ones that are, aka mainly her caretakers (she's implied to not really have friends at the start of the show) don’t communicate with her great or are sometimes unavailable for stretches of time.

it makes a lot of sense to me that canonically the brave asagi feels like home so quickly to her. because it’s stable. the same people are always there, she literally lives with them on an airship. but like. they're stable adult figures that aren’t disappearing for periods of time, and friede’s forgetfulness aside (lighthearted), people who communicate with her better. this does wonders for her bdjdjdsk

i also think her selflessness to point of fault could tie in with this, like blaming herself for situations and shrugging off her own feelings (she often doesn’t even notice when she herself is upset/moody on multiple occasions!!) could have been a habit developed from this very thing. she loves her parents and doesn’t want to have to view them as absent or being poor at communication so everything is her fault. she doesn’t want to be pointing blame or to cause problems when people are home or things are good so she dissociates away her own feelings and is very polite and considerate of anything that comes up.

i say all this because i think it’d be an interesting way to spin liko’s character who is already interesting. but also i got to thinking about this manifesting in her relationship with dot down the line. cause like adult figures are one thing but also friends and hell having a girlfriend is kind of different. and dot does actually get busy sometimes because she is still working as gurumin on top of schoolwork (this is headcanons for vaguely what a couple years from now as of HZ053 at the time of writing might look like or something. dot going to more normal schooling similar to how liko has been, on top of still being gurumin)

this starts sparking anxiety in liko but first she shoves it down and acts like it’s fine. and then it starts slipping through the cracks. cue comedy of her being like WHY AM I THINKING CRAZY THINGS LIKE “I WANT TO INTERRUPT GURUMIN VIDEO EDITING TO HANG OUT WHO HAVE I BECOME WHAT SORT OF GURUMIN FAN AM I AHHHH also i don't want to be clingy to dot she likes her independent space...”

still, her response is to be like no it's fine, i have to be fine with this, i'm just acting crazy, dot has literally never done anything to warrant me feeling like this, i am being a bad girlfriend. and dot notices this in her demeanor and is like hey what's wrong? and liko’s like What!

anyway they talk it out and come to some sort of middle ground where of course dot still needs to be alone sometimes either to focus or to just have alone time in general. she’s not gonna let liko derail into a worsening spiral of clinginess. but! she is going to reassure her that it’s fine!

and also cue liko sometimes being able to hang out quietly in her room doing her own thing like lying in dot’s bed on her phone while dot video edits... also way more self indulgent, extremely “this is so not canon but i am a shipper let me live” imagery: dot managing her gurumin socials on her phone in her bed with one hand and liko lying on her bed partially on her lap like a lapcat while dot pets her hair with the other hand. in this essay i will

thanks for coming to my ted talk i've been rotating this in my brain for weeks

[soul-controller]

Hey everyone, I hate to disappoint but I just wanted to share that there’s no way that the Halloween event can happen anymore this year.

My manager at my job initially promised me that I would be able to have a set schedule where I could have 4 days off a week so I could properly devote time to getting my writing done. Unfortunately, two people quit and my schedule for the next few weeks just came out and now I’m being forced to help cover their shifts until they hire new people (which will probably take a while since my job has a terrible reputation in town). Although I would have probably been able to find a way to make the event still happen given how excited I was about it, I’m still in the process of doing four relatively large story commissions so there’s no way that I can juggle both those and the Halloween event. Something had to give and obviously the event had to go as the commissions take priority.

To provide some context and be a bit vulnerable, things in my personal life have been a bit rough and hectic the past month or two, so I’m hoping things can eventually settle down soon enough. As previously mentioned my job is being a nuisance, but there’s other stuff going on like money issues on top of being in the process of getting a new doctor because my current one was refusing to take any of my concerns seriously. Beyond just him downplaying my anxiety and depression diagnoses when it comes to providing me effective medication, he also refused to try and help with the debilitating migraines I suffer through practically every other day.

Just to add a cherry on top of the shitty month that this has been, I just recently discovered that queuing on Tumblr has finally failed me. The story that was meant to come out this month never got posted and the concept of having to go through re-formatting everything and getting photos again was just too much of a depressing nuisance for me to deal with. Hell, I've been in such a stink recently that I didn't even do a celebration to celebrate the fact that my account had passed 4,000 followers! I guess doing it nearly three hundred followers later is a bit too late, but I suppose it's never too late to celebrate. I seriously appreciate all of the support I've received regardless of it was a like, a reblog, a follow, or a subscription to my Patreon. All of it means a lot to me... genuinely.

I suppose I just wanted to say that things feel a bit grim for me currently, but I remain hopeful that good days shall eventually come (especially since Halloween is my favorite time of year). To put a more positive spin on the increased hours at work, at least it means that I'll hopefully fix my money issues. Plus, I finally have a meeting with a new doctor this Thursday so I'm hoping I can get some results and find someone who actually cares and wants to help me.

In closing, I sincerely wanted to apologize again in case I disappointed anyone by canceling the Halloween event. Hopefully I can make it up to y’all though by releasing two stories here for October that I really enjoyed writing.

On top of that, I’m thinking I may give the concept of releasing long stories for purchase via Ko-Fi / itch.io a shot by having a trial run with a nearly 10k word Halloween-ish story involving misguided spells, twinkification, and age progression / weight gain between two best friends.

Thanks for reading, I appreciate all of your support and hopefully your understanding during this extremely trying time. 💙

[tunedtostatic]

Blog updates 2024 edition, or more specifically, one big, potentially very good update: Last year when I did my 2023 blog updates, almost but not quite a year ago now, I said I might be within a month or so of things no longer being in serious crisis/my life being basically okay-adjacent. It is hard to write this even now but it turned out that that didn't work out - things did get better, especially for a chunk of six months in the middle of the year when I had safe housing and things felt wonderful compared to the last few years, but neither external circumstances nor my own ability to deal with {PTSD, external circumstances, &c} got to the point hoped for where I would be able to say "I'm living a life where things are more or less normal and okay." Even though I never quite reached things being okay-adjacent during that chunk of months and things got not great again end of summer to now, having that time of things being close to almost okay-adjacent was a very important springboard to me for make it to a point now where I might be within reach of actually okay-adjacent.

Right now, what I said last year about potentially being within a month or so of things being basically okay is potentially true again, and I think I have a better shot at it this time for both external reasons and personal "knowing more about what to do to get safe and having my shit together" reasons. I might be within reach of things being okay-adjacent and feeling like I have a real normal life outside of crises (here defined as safe housing, employment, no people hurting me in my immediate vicinity, financial and scheduling ability to manage physical medical issues on a day to day basis while still eating without mental health issues getting in the way of that, clothing in drawers not trash bags, nothing actively medically scary).

If so this will be for the first time since 2018 so of course it's a big deal to me. Right now of course I'm both excited and relieved things might work out soon and terrified that they won't.

Meanwhile (the reason beyond updating that I'm posting this!), as I get ready to fully move into the place that will hopefully be the "safe housing" part of this, it's been really hitting me that even though living a life that is normal-adjacent and okay-adjacent will inherently be orders of magnitude better than the last 5+ years and of course I'm prepared to be extremely grateful for that, I'm still going to have all the grief and emptiness I have now. Even though I will as always be (too) busy in some ways trying to get everything done in a day while dealing with chronic pain, no longer having so much time soaked up trying to survive whatever the problem of the week or PTSD meltdown of the day is means that I'm going to have hours and hours of empty time to fill every week.

When I talk about loss I know some people's minds will jump to the worst case personal scenarios so I will clarify that I am fortunate that by grief I don't mean the death of an immediate family member, not that kind of grief. A lot of different things - people who have been awful, deaths, horribleness in my neighborhood that was like family, lost time, and all the losses prior to the last few years in some ways since grief doesn't fully go away, and then things like a close friendship breakup last year that is not as painful as any of the above since we are both alive and managed to be kind to each other throughout the breakup but it's still over. It has been hitting me that a lot of the work of grieving everything from the past couple decades, like the work of dealing with PTSD, is what I had to get through these past couple years to have a chance of getting my shit together, but now that I've made enough headway on the work of grieving to be able to have a chance at my life being okay, the losses and emptiness themselves will still be there ("still be gone"?)

If anyone has suggestions for fun stuff to do, book and movie recommendations, &c, it would be a really good time for them! If anyone can recommend social stuff, e.g. friendly good-boundary-having discord servers, that would be amazing. I think y'all know my favorite things in fiction and music (fiddles, writing fanfic that comes to a screeching halt 2-3 times a chapter to talk about food, thoughtful meditations on torture?, swords) but I'm usually down to at least give media outside my wheelhouse a try.

[exilethegame]

Writing Update (11/28/22)

Hello everyone!

Unfortunately on Friday I had the wonderful pleasure of catching the flu. On one hand, I've been stuck shivering and coughing all day. On the other hand, my fever-induced psychoses gave me wonderful material to write with in the future.

Because of that, I wasn't able to get much done this week, though I was able to get a jump on some scenes before I got sick!

This past few weeks I've managed to write 5k words making Chapter 5, pt. 2 51k words long!

As of now I'm working on Sabir + Nikke's scenes simultaneously so I can bounce back and forth between them whenever I get bored. The scenes are "simple" enough when compared to Vethna + Amilia's that it's easy for me to do and usually allows me to write a bit quicker since I won't be able to run into writer's block this way!

Ideally, I'll be able to finish both of their scenes by the midpoint of December, but we'll see. I also then need to revisit Amilia + Vethna's scenes to add in extra dialogue + flavor text based on things MC might've done if they went to speak to Sabir/Nikke first, since I find it enjoyable when all the characters acknowledge one another.

Once I get this check-in scene finished, I'll then be able to move onto chronological + companion scenes, which should be pretty smooth sailing. I put on the tumblr's actual website (it might only be visible on a computer) an estimated release for Part 2 which is Quarter 1 of next year-- so anywhere from January - March 2023. I feel confident about that window and will likely shrink it down to more specific dates the more work I get done.

That's all the main stuff! I also included some vocabulary down below for what I personally mean when I'm referring to the "check-in" scenes and such for those of you that are interested. Otherwise, that's all, and thanks for reading! :)

Chapter 5 (Part 2) Progress Scene 1: Linear Scene 2: Hobbies (Finished -- 10/10 Branches) Scene 3: Hobbies Scene 4: Check-in (50% -- 1/3 Branches) Scene 5: Chronological (75% Done) Scene 6: Chronological Scene 7: Companion Scene 8: Companion

Check-in: A check-in scene is when MC is given the choice to speak to the characters "one-on-one." MC can always choose what order to speak to the characters in, but otherwise it breaks down into two more subtypes.

A Check-in 1, which hasn't been seen in-game yet but will be in Part Two, requires MC to speak to every NPC before the scene can go forward. There may also be certain dialogue choices with each character that must be picked in order for the scene to go forward. In scenes like this, main-plot information will be included as every MC will be forced to see it regardless of their relationships or personality.

A Check-in 2 allows MC to choose who they speak to, sometimes under a condition where MC must choose a limited amount of characters to speak to. This means sometimes MC will be able to talk to everyone with ease, and other times (Like in the War Room) MC will be forced to choose who to speak to out of 2 or 3 characters. These type of check-ins will be more common, and they'll also contain information important for side-quests. They'll allow MC to built up trust/respect with characters even if MC + them don't get along, which will then get them to tell MC more about themselves... which, chances are, will open up some unique storylines in the future. The "side-quests" will open up additional scenes for MC in the future where MC can influence how they end, and the ending of these side-quests will then influence the main story (usually). They're not required-- and sometimes MC not getting involved can even be better-- but they're there!

Companion Scene: A companion scene is when a single scene can include any given character in it-- meaning in some playthroughs the scene will have Vethna in it, in others it will have Amilia. So essentially I'm rewriting the same moment of time several times over again for every companion who could be in it. The character who will be in the scene can sometimes be chosen by the player directly-- other times it will be a matter of what MC's relationships are. Sometimes a scene is limited to being with MC's romantic partner or best friend, other times a scene can be played with anyone who MC is amicable with, other times a scene can only be played with whoever MC has the lowest affinity with, etc. It's the closest in style to a classic sort of IF structure-- "You're tired and lonely, only one person comes to your mind to spend time with. That person is..." type of beat.

Hobbies Scene: A hobby scene is a scene that changes depending on what MC's hobby is set as. For example, an MC whose hobby is cooking might have a scene where they're helping make dinner for the group at night while another MC whose hobby is exploring might be sneaking out and climbing things they probably shouldn't be climbing... Sometimes these events will be done with companions as well! Not always, of course... otherwise I would have to be writing 60 variations of scenes which is... not possible <3

Chronological Scene: I just use this to reference a normal span of writing where the scene doesn't vary based on relationships but on choices. So I'm only writing variations for the choices you make as MC-- not for the stats that are behind the scenes! These types of scenes are significantly easier to write than the ones above. Even though I'm needing to write the multiple ways a scene can play out, it's not quite as repetitive as the check-in scenes are, nor do they take as long to finish as the Companion + Hobbies scenes.

Linear Scene: I don't write much of these in comparison to the others, but it's exactly what it sounds like. These tends to be scenes from other character's POV where there are no choices-- and, if there are choices (Like the Freedom removal scene in Chapter 5 pt. 1) then they don't have any actual affect on the scene and how it plays out. These are incredibly easy to write, and usually I'm able to finish them in a single sitting!

That's all for this week. Thanks for reading! :)

[vtforpedro]

life update - long

It took me a hot minute to find the last update. December, I guess? I'm so tired I never stop being tired and time is not real anymore. Anyway. Disability Stuff: I won my case in federal court in February. They said it'd take a year so I was a little hm. Found out the SSA voluntarily asked the judge for the remand because the written decision was indefensible and they were gonna take another look. Pros: Hey, I won! I get a second hearing! Cons: I didn't get a brief written by the federal law firm because there was no time. This is actually a tactic used by the SSA. I have no doubt they're fine tuning another denial. I also have to wait for the lower level court to figure out what was so bad about it (that they'd already ruled was perfect) to give to the judge I will have another hearing with. The same judge. Who said I was a liar multiple times and omitted eight months of medical evidence and said mental health issues are subjective hahaha. I hate this country. Health: Boy howdy it's been better and worse. I had the tilt table test in late December, went... ok enough, but my neuro didn't like how ambiguous the report was and sent me back to them to speak to an autonomic disorder specialist. Scheduled in Jan, just had my appt with her this month lol she is busy. She ordered: genetics test, labs, and skin biopsy. I've done the first two, third is scheduled in July and I'm gonna be a mess because needles u_u Brain stuff is much of the same. Episodic. Manageable times are a godsend, bad times are really bad. My heart started to do some funky ass shit a few months ago. My mom kept writing it off as anxiety no matter how much I explained that it felt like my heart was pounding after exercise. My BP and pulse shot up high for a while and b/c my pulse never came back down and it was interfering with, you know, living, my PCP sent me to cardiology. :') Cause I wanted my heart involved in this mess One 24hr holter monitor, echo, and heart ultrasound later, and I have a new heart condition. He said 'your heart is beating so fast you would normally see it with exercise' bada boom baby and has nothing to do with fucking ANXIETY >:[ I'm on heart medication. 10 meds. I need to start another med for my psych but that's 11 and I'm honestly getting upset because it's so fucking much medication in one day but every single one of them is necessary so what can really I do? Personal: Relationship with my mom is at an all time low. This is extremely unfortunate because a few weeks ago, my mom told me she is basically being 'laid off' (she's not losing her job for a while, just retiring earlier than expected) and I have to leave my home of 10 years by mid-August. Got no sympathy from her about it *finger guns* I've gone through the devastation of that and am kind of just stuck in how is any of that gonna work. My brother and I can't live together, so he's gonna move into a family friend's rental. Except he has no job and hasn't been able to get one in months. He started one on Monday, is gonna leave by Friday because it's horrific ig. Anyway my mom promises he won't be there. We have to move based on my disabilities and my mom's house is gonna have to reflect what we have here. I'll see it when I believe it. I don't trust her anymore. Extra unfortunate that I'm gonna be living 24/7 with my mother who has been an abusive person in my life the past two years. The short break thru the day that my apartment is just mine, quiet and gentle, is gonna be gone. I'll be introducing my solitary 11 year old cat Lilly into a house with 3 other cats. She only knew Isis her entire life. She was just diagnosed with neuro issues this year after going through an MRI. We don't know if she has seizure activity or if it's movement disorder, but the med she's on treats both and she has gotten better. Same process Isis went through. Cannot believe I have two cats with neuro issues and likely the same one. May 18th was one year since Isis passed. Rough, tiring day.

I don't know how it has been that long. Feels like it just happened. I can still see her and feel her through my apartment and losing it in August will probably shatter me most because of losing the last place she existed in. I miss her more than I can say.

She was my little soulmate and her absence is felt in every corner here. Writing/Fandom:

I went through a whole fucking situation over in the Stranger Things fandom that has left me not wanting to post anymore. Idk if neuro shit has destroyed my ability to write but it's humiliating and painful every time I post a fic.

I posted stucky (1 out of 2 fics this year) on my main acct and lost 8 fuckin user subs? Like goddamn. What'd stucky do 😭 anyway it was even more devastating and kinda like 'here's your big ass sign to keep your writing to yourself.'

Between the god awful shit that happened in the ST fandom and my inability to put together even a good one shot, I'm feeling really down about one of two creative things I can do in my life. I used to love sharing my stuff. I want to write and share but it feels like it's harming my MH. I can't draw or paint right now, either. And I can barely move around my apartment without pain. I can't even leave it except for doctor appointments.

Idk. Very walls are closing in type of feeling and I hate it. In short: I'm tired, struggling, and too many things are happening at once. I love you all 😩💜 thank you for your patience and love and kind words. Your support is felt through one update to the next. I hope you're all well and I'm sending all my love and hugs to you.

[a-non-ymouswriter]

Alright, let's talk Rewind (or my MCYT fics)

i think it's time to finally talk about rewind/remix.

or generally, just my mcyt fics in general.

it's been a while since i updated any of them and trust me, i am very much FILLED WITH GUILT over not updating or continuing them- problem is; i just don't have any motivation in them at the moment. my interest and motivation for them have waned, wilted and withered. the three unfortunate ws that arent wins.

i dont want to say i abandoned them, i hate the thought of abandoning ANY STORY and i like the thought of getting back to them at some point. maybe my motivation will come back, it has in the past and that's a great hope to have.

however i am aware that these stories have been gathering dust and it's possible that motivation will never come back and i hate that.

i know partially why i'm no longer interested? partially- it mainly started with techno's death. it just didn't feel the same anymore now that cc!techno was gone, but if things went differently then maybe i could've continued just as normal. but i'm pretty sure my motivation took a great hit when techno died.

another great hit to my motivation is the whole... thing with cc!dream??? WHICH I WILL NEVER EVEN POKE ABOUT, YOU CANNOT MAKE ME, I WILL IGNORE EVERY ATTEMPT. it felt weird writing about c!dream even though i should REALLY be able to separate the two, cc!s are different from fictional c!s and all that but for some reason i just don't feel too comfy writing him right now.

and since my main series of rewind and remix is MAINLY RELATED TO DREAM- you can see my problem here.

the dream smp is done, over, there is no season 2 and my interest in this fandom is only tethered by the occasional fanfic that i stumble upon and the numerous fanarts that come and go. that interest isn't enough to motivate my writing.

a funny thought though, is that i think i spent a LOT of motivation and kind of burnt myself out in the future back when i was DAILY UPDATING REWIND- like i don't know if you readers remember but i was updating DAILY on rewind. every day, FOR ALMOST A MONTH- something that might never happen again really and i'm still kind of proud of that.

but i'm pretty sure it was very unhealthy of me to do daily updates the way i did- it took A POWER OUTAGE to make me stop doing daily updates and i remember STRESSING OVER NOT UPDATING while the power was out. so yeah, i'm pretty sure i set myself up for failure there XD

but i'm so glad that i was able to at least finish rewind. my very first story that i completed. unfortunately i'm not too confident about finishing the rest of the series (and some other fics).

a friend of mine actually suggested something that i've been thinking about from time to time; i give you guys the outline of what COULD have happened. what i was planning on writing and then completing my works.

it sounds like a good idea but i didn't want to let you guys down in just, giving up like that. but nowadays, it sounds like a better and better alternative than to just wait for my motivation and interest to come back. it's almost been a year already for wishes and family, and remix, i managed to update stream labs a few months ago so that's hopeful but the others...

okay, i'm going to give YOU GUYS the choice here. i'll tell the ao3 readers about it as an important update author's note, but im going to make a poll about this choice soon and i'll even pin it on my tumblr.

it'll last- maybe two weeks? but yeah, it's the least i can do to see what you guys want.

EDIT: polls apparently only last a week, so it'll be up a week.

[workingforitallthetime]

I know it‘s been a few years but I still occasionally think of ‚ain't like anywhere else‘. You‘ve probably moved on completely… But what did you have in mind for chapter 2? 👀🥺

this ask prompted me to open the google doc for the first time in years, so what the hell, let's exhume some remains and do some self-reflection about why part 2 was never going to work.

(all of the bits that follow are unedited material straight from the draft. i hope i've become a better writer than this over the past three years.)

Here's the opening paragraph:

Trevor was meant to be here. Not like he was born in the wrong place, since he’d never give up his birthright of New York obnoxiousness, but like it was all building to this. It’s never too hot. His body can’t soak up enough sunshine, hair sun-kissed, skin turning a permanent California brown. He’s trying to turn Jamie into a Californian but he’s stubbornly Canadian. Fishbelly white no matter how much time they spend in the sun.

the main reason part 2 didn't work is that there was really no reason for me to write my own take on the jamie/trevor origin story. it's been done, and by better writers than me. i just didn't feel the compulsion to write it, unlike the trevor/cole story, which was all mine.

anyway, the plan was to set up some tzjd undefined hooking up during their first season, and then have them stick around in california for the start of the offseason, and have cole come visit after the habs lost in the stanley cup finals (wow, remember when that happened?)

A week and a half later, there he is, waving at Trevor under the overhang at arrivals. Cole’s the most solid body Trevor knows. Dense, like he’s vacuum-packed down to size. Hugging him is like colliding with a mailbox. He presses his face into Trevor’s neck, quick, and Trevor’s not going to read anything into that. That’s just as high as Cole’s face goes.

cole's expecting trevor to get right back to hooking up with him, and trevor's not going to resist. meanwhile jamie still expects trevor to be hooking up with him. trevor sneaks in and out of bedrooms for an awkward few days. there was going to be a golf scene with cam york rounding out the foursome. i did not write any of this. here is an excerpt from my notes:

Need multiple instances of cole and jamie kind of flirting, or cole flirting with jamie and trevor able to tell that jamie likes it, and trevor’s kind of furious but he can’t say anything about it because he’s hooking up with both of them

eventually cole sees trevor sneaking out of jamie's bedroom and cole and jamie have a little talk and cole is unfazed and jamie's mind is blown. then here is the only bit i actually wrote:

It’s silent for a moment in the main room. Then Cole’s raspy voice says something, too low for Trevor to catch over the grind of the icemaker. He lifts his cup off the lever in time to hear Jamie bark a laugh in response. “Sure, yeah.” Trevor can see the TV from the refrigerator, but not the far side of the couch, where they’re sitting. He sloshes vodka over his ice, adds a splash of the first juice he sees, some pomegranate bullshit Trace left in the fridge, and rounds the corner just in time to see Cole climbing into Jamie’s lap. Kneeling over Jamie and smiling, always fucking smiling, he takes Jamie’s face in his hands and kisses him. “What the fuck?” Trevor says loudly, managing not to drop his drink on the floor. They ignore him so completely it has to be on purpose. Jamie’s eyes are closed, face tilted upward to Cole’s. Cole smiles against Jamie’s lips and rakes a hand backward through his hair, tipping Jamie’s head back so he can press in closer, kiss him deeper. Trevor knows what this is like from every possible angle. Knows what it’s like to have Cole in his lap, his smiling kisses, knows what’s under Jamie’s hands as they smooth down Cole’s back and settle on his ass. Knows what it’s like to get hard against Jamie’s stomach, feel Jamie hard underneath him. It’s like an out of body experience, seeing it all happen in front of him while he’s on the other side of the room. Jamie slips a hand under the hem of Cole’s tank top, and Trevor knows how the smooth muscles of his obliques feel, knows without even being able to see it that Jamie’s working a thumb under Cole’s waistband, rubbing it over his hipbone. He was first. He’s the tallest. And they’re just ignoring him.

i did also have some notes for the dialogue that eventually followed:

“And you could have told me you were banging your roommate now?”

“We’re not banging.”

“Oh, what are you calling it then?”

[] “Whatever you and I were doing.”

“Did Jamie get his dick sucked?”

“No?” Trevor says uncertainly, wriggling a little in Jamie’s lap. He would have sucked Jamie’s dick if he’d thought of it. That should count for something.

Jamie, patiently: “Nobody’s getting his dick sucked.”

“Trevor got his dick sucked and he owes me.”

Jamie tugs at his hair again. “I think he should pay up.”

“You can suck Jamie’s dick after. He did get silver.”

........i mean, maybe i could have made this dynamic work, if i'd gotten it written in that era. but probably not. i was much better served turning my attention to umich.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

15 people, 15 questions

Thanks for tagging me @colourme-feral, @wen-kexing-apologist and @thegalwhorants! I wrote this at night on Christmas Eve but then tumblr ate the post when I moved it from my drafts to my queue, so I had to write the whole thing again...

1. Are you named after anyone?

No. My parents had a difficult time deciding on a name and just eventually landed on the one they gave me.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Well that depends on what kind of crying... I teared up last Wednesday when my furniture and belongings arrived from being in storage for 17 months. Tears rolled down my cheeks and my breath hitched a few times when I watched ep 6 Last Twilight (damn you Aof!) nearly two weeks ago. But the last time I ugly sobbed was whilst watching a musical in June, but I was feeling especially emotional about my temporary living situation at the time.

3. Do you have kids?

No.

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I don't play any now (but I do go to the gym) but when I was a kid I did gymnastics and then dance (although that's not a sport). I played different sports in school but only because I had to and they weren't any I really enjoyed.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Sarcasm? Who, me?! Nooooooo never.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Probably their posture or body language.

7. What's your eye colour?

To be honest I'm not sure. There's grey and bits of blue and green and even brown but I wouldn't be able to call it a colour. I used to say hazel but then I realised hazel was more brown than my eyes are so I don't really know.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Oh happy endings for sure. I mean, I'm on (this) tumblr because of the qls I watch so it should be obvious.

9. Any talents?

I can hold a handstand for 30 secs (I've also managed 1 min in the past but that was a while ago now) but that feels more like a party trick than a talent. I guess I could say dancing. Oh, maybe guessing the time usually quite accurately.

10. Where were you born?

In the UK, specifically England.

11. What are your hobbies?

Apart from going to the gym, handstanding and watching ql series? I'm currently obsessed with the clothes from the shows 😅...but I also like to go for walks, sometimes I play boardgames, and I like to read (I've been mainly reading fan fic recently though). I also think about lego a lot (and now I have my own place I might get some sets - bonsai tree my beloved) and I used to write but it's been a few years since I last wrote anything.

12. Do you have any pets?

No. I've had cats in the past and I'd like another cat at some point but not for a while.

13. How tall are you?

I'm not 🤭

14. What was your favourite subject in school?

I can't remember now but probably geography...but more geology than countries...or creative writing. There was a point where I enjoyed maths...but didn't study it beyond 16.

15. What is your dream job?

I'd actually like to be able to not work, or to only work part time. I've been lucky to have actually had my dream job and I'm very grateful for the opportunity/experience.

So that's it! I guess I should tag 15 people since that's the title of this game, so here goes: @grapejuicegay @telomeke (I know you've been tagged a few times) @respectthepetty (I know you've done it already but I wanted to tag you anyway) @celestial-sapphicss @dimplesandfierceeyes @chickenstrangers @wen-kexing-apologist (I know you've already done it as well but leaving this tag here anyway) @waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @slayerkitty @ranchthoughts @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas @btwinlines @starryalpacasstuff No pressure obviously. (bonus tag for @absolutebl because I like it when you answer these kinds of things using only photos /gifs)

[manonamora-if]

March Check-In

Lol. We definitely were not back on track here. We tried and SUPER FAILED at going back to the schedule.

Will March be better? Let's find out together...

Onto the usual index:

Recap of last month’s progress

IF Events in the Next Month

Plan for the next month

Still long post under the break. If you want a mini version, head over to itch.io!

February Progress

Welp... there wasn't much of a list in the January Check-in, since it was the retrospective, which included the yearly plan. Still, I did make a mini one on itch. Put together we'd get:

Play more IF and maybe review. ✅

Finish the coding of Harcourt Ch5 ❌ and editing of Ch6 ❌

Fix one of the semi-completed games: ❌

Complete the Vamp/Smoochie jam entry✅

Heyyyy 50/50. Passable grade!

I've passed the very funny number of 420 reviews on the IFDB recently, mainly working my way through the French games (since there are very few reviews and French IF peeps are neat people). There are 300+ games left on that side, it will take me a while to get there but I'm making progress (almost done with 2023!). If my pace continues... I might be able to reach 2nd place in the ranking before my 1 year anniversary of reviewing games (mid-may). Also somewhat related, I've been trying to rate more games on itch too :)

I said I would finish the coding of Harcourt... and then didn't. But MelS was more productive than me, and he finished the first draft of Chapter 6 earlier than planned... which I haven't finished commenting on either... So :/

I also didn't fix any semi-completed games. So there.

But I managed to make it for the Queer Vampire Jam and the Smoochie Jam with Teatime with a Vampire ! A 20k-long trippy game with a hot vampire and a weird show...

AND AND I finally fixed my website and my itch.io profile. It has a cool feature on the front page. And we did a little AMA a few weeks ago!

Honestly, I thought I would have been done with Teatime two weeks before it actually was completed. So that threw a wrench in the rest. And probably having to moderate a few events at once...

And the extra day clearly didn't help.

EDIT: I TOTES FORGOT, but I updated DOL-OS for an extra QOL screen at the start.

What’s happening in March?

There's always something happening in the IF world. I don't think I ever find all that happens anyway... but. Here's the ones I know!

Today is the last day to submit a Spring Thing intent! (ranked)

he Queer Vampire Game Jam ends in about three weeks. Got a vampire/human story with a LGBT+ cast? Then this is the event for you! (unranked) Also they are doing a fundraising/matching donation with submissions!

The SeedComp! (Sprouting) extended the deadline for a few more days! See @seedcomp-if for more info ;) (ranked)

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2024 se termine Lundi! Viendez faire des histoires en français!! <3 (ranked, duh)

The next @neointeractives mini-jam will all be about bringing back old jams... Check out the Revival Jam !

The Text Adventure Literacy Jam 2024 just started! It will be looking for "parser for beginners" entries until May!

Note: @neointeractives will have jams all year long. One a month/or so. And the next Planting Round of @seedcomp-if will start as soon as the results are dropped.

The PLANtm for March

Busy plan once again. Here are the thing I'm hoping to do or finish this month:

Complete my French Comp entry. The deadline is in 3 days. Will I make it? Probably. Will it be good? Probably be not because I've been writing it only in the past two weeks. You can expect some "love" letters though...

Complete my SpringThing entry. It will be all about fixing typos and potential bug. The code will be ready next week anyway. Maybe slap some cool-er animations.

Play more games! Consider this done. There's the Smoochie Jam, the SeedComp! and the FrenchComp right there...

Finish the Code Ch5 of Harcourt and edit Ch6. At least one round of edits would be good. So I can put MelS to work again.

Finish fixing The Roads Not Taken. I'm so sorry babe. I'm not avoiding you I swear. I actually haven't bee on the computer with your files this month...

LET'S DO THIS! WE CAN DO IT!

~

The 2024 To-Do List:

I have done nothing here. So here's the list again for nothing.

The hopefully maybe easy to handle To-Do:

fix the bugs in EDOC + overall the French version to match

fix the bugs of TRNT + find a way to add the missing pieces (giving up on the translation)

fixing the interface of LPM and the popups + check animal interactions

figure out the One-Button JavaScrip/jQuery issue...

edit the loading screens of the completed tiny games to include the program/format logo at least.

The 'Need a Bunch of Content to update but it's planned!' To-Do:

Update my website (bunch new title - also I don't think the logo clicky thing work...) + redo my itch page

Finish TTATEH (MelS dependent - this year should be it - for real)

Finish Exquisite Cadaver (half-way mark by this summer - manif)

Finish P-Rix - Space Trucker (main path at least)

Update CRWL (it's been almost two years... I'm getting ashamed)

The Unlikely But it Would be Dope To-Do

Finish The Dinner as it was planned (and translate)

Finish In the Blink of an Eye as it was planned (and retranslate)

Finish The Rye in the Dark City

Fixing TTTT (at least fixing, maybe try adding some storylets)

And finally The 'It's impossible, but one can wish' TO-DO:

Remaster SPS IH (if I managed to start this after completing the rest... I'm going to eat a whole sheet cake).

Start the IFComp project (2025? Might end up being a ST?)

[changingplumbob]

hii!! 11-14 for the story questions

Hooray a chance to talk!!! And I actually really wanted to do these 4! Thank you Lori 😁 I'm throwing in a cut just because I write long answers, don't want to be cluttering dashboards.

11) Why have you decided to tell this story? Are there any messages or meanings within it?

It was about 6 months of me playing my rotations before I had the thought to record what was happening in story format. I was actually sticking with households and wanted to be able to look back and see how far they'd come, so I decided to start writing and taking screenshots. I've always liked creative writing throughout my life, but have been reluctant to share it, there's so much talent out there. I enjoyed writing about my sims so wanted to share it, mainly so I could talk to people about my sims because I have such fun playing.

Messages or meanings... I try to write most of my sims as being accepting. There's a lot of hate and bigotry in our world, and I like writing a world where there is minimal prejudice. Samir will never have to face sims distrusting him simply because he is of Arab descent. Devin will never face discrimination in casting simply because she is married to a woman. Joey will never have his job performance questioned simply because he has hearing loss.

I do write a few mean and narrow minded sims but they are few and far between. They are mainly there to add some realism but I want my sims to feel safe being who they are. So messages... judge someone for their character, not something that they have no control over (ethnicity, sexuality, gender, disability).

12) Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium?

I LOVE playing! I preordered Sims 4! However, patience is not my strong suit. The longest I've played one household lasted from the teens in a household growing to YA and having a baby... I was the master of making a household, playing for a few in game weeks, then getting bored. Rotational play is great for me as it helps me stay invested, plus I love to micro manage.

I do consider that I'm playing my game and just recording what happens for the most part, Reece and Samir are the only ones I think of as me crafting a story. Apart from them I play pretty unplanned.

13) From basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you?

I like to play, take screenshots, then write for those before returning to the game for another round of playing. Let me check some dates... The next households first part screenshots were taken on Jan 28th and I finished playing the household on Feb 3rd. Looks like I created the word document on Jan 28th and it was last edited on Feb 4th.

So 8 days to play and write the chapter. I'd guess another day to finish queuing the posts (I also do these as I go). But that is probably one of the faster ones. This latest one I've done has taken me over 2 weeks, yes I was away for a portion of that, and I've still not finished the writing. I'm currently unemployed so I have the time to spend on it. When I find a new job I imagine average creation time will double or triple.

Drafts from the past take about 3 minutes as it's just me getting a screenshot of whatever weirdness is happening and putting it in a post. Lookbooks can take several hours to string together, or less than 1 if I'm not providing new outfits. Build or Reno posts take maybe half an hour to put together, providing I took the screenshots I need. This post took me an hour to write because I'm having an IBS flare up and thinking deeply.

14) Do you have any regrets about your story so far? if you could go back in time, how would you fix these?

I am not a big one for regret in real life. I was for a long time but now I try to see the past as "things happened, I did the best I could in the circumstances with my resources and what I knew".

I do somewhat regret putting my earlier writing straight on Twitter with no copy to my hard drive because all that story is essentially lost to the black hole of the internet. BUT that's taught me to keep records of what I'm doing.

Story regrets... nope. I've sat here for 5 minutes and cannot think of one. I do feel sad about making all of Marta's family dead but I don't regret that choice. What I have done with my sims are things that made sense for the characters.