#is how you end up DESTROYING the social order?

[rhaenin-time]

This is your reminder that ambiguity in a (competently written) story functions to force the reader or viewer to engage on a thematic level, rather than a literal plot level. In other words, you don't "answer" ambiguity with conspiracy-grade theories born and "proven" through easter egg hunts and counting breadcrumbs. The thematic answer, the message of the ambiguous part of the story, should fit regardless of whichever of the likely possible "answers" is the "true answer." Because in cases of ambiguity, the thematic answer is the "true answer."

Do with that what you will.

[nicksolemnlyswears]

THE BEAR AND THE BEE HIVE

summary: in which carmy falls for the sweet café owner that supplies him with endless americanos

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

word count: 14.4k

warning: it's a little bit of a slow burn. sorry. i'm a sucker for it and i feel like carmy is a slow burn kinda guy. 18 +, cursing, smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), fingering, they use protection guys! i deserve a pat in the back. nothing too wild. oh, and very brief mention of suicide.

a/n: i started writing this way back in october and then it was nearly done and i abandoned it. well i finally got around to completing it tonight!

this is my first time ever writing for carmy and i tried my best writing this. i love carmy and the show but i didn’t expect it to be hard to write him as a character. i wanted to get him right so i took my time with it and didn’t rush it. hopefully you guys like my carmy. enjoy!

i think i've had this stored in my drafts for like 4 months and it's time for me to set it free.

The cigarettes were not enough anymore. No matter how many smoke breaks Carmy took, he still felt the edge on his shoulders. A fear laced with anxiety that overtook him.

After deciding that blowing through yet another wall in his restaurant was the way to go, Carmy took a break. He needed it before he used the sledgehammer to destroy the restaurant in its entirety, along with his dream.

He remembers a coffee shop only a block away from The Bear and thinks he could use a coffee right about now. Maybe the mixture of caffeine and nicotine will be able to relax his shoulders, if only for an hour.

As soon as he opens the door, the smell of ground coffee beans greets him. He looks around, taking in the cozy ambiance the decorative wood brings to the place and the splashes of warm yellow that lighten it up.

Then he sees you, and his focus shifts entirely. His eyes only see you.

"Hi, welcome to Bee Hive!" You chirp with a small smile.

Carmy freezes, forgetting why he's there in the first place. He slowly steps up to the register, where you patiently wait for him. It's just after the lunch rush, so you're in no hurry.

He finds he's acting like a teenager who has just seen a pretty girl. Only he's not a teenager, and you're more than a pretty girl.

"What can I get for you today?" You ask, not noticing the effect you've had on him. You take a sharpie out of your yellow apron, preparing to scribble down his order in a cup.

Carmy has perfected the empty on the outside but screaming on the inside face. Strangers don't tend to know he's almost always losing his shit.

"I-I don't…sorry," Carmy looks at you briefly before diverting his eyes. He apologizes in a flurry, looking for an excuse for his weird behavior, "Uh, it's my first time here. What do you recommend?"

"It's not a problem," you say softly as if to calm him, "I'm a simple girl. I love the latte, but if you're looking for something stronger, the americano is one of the favorites."

Carmy nods as you ramble about the drinks, where the coffee beans come from, and the different notes of each blend. He hangs onto every word that slips from your lips. The static in his brain clearing up for the first time in hours.

It ends too soon as you realize you're talking too much and probably overwhelmed him. You sheepishly smile at him and trail off, but he continues to stare, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll take the Americano," Carmy nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. Although he had been hanging to every one of your words, he was too focused on the shape of your lips and the sweet tone of your voice.

"Good choice," you nod, grabbing a cup from the tray beside you, "What's your name?"

Carmy looks up, slightly alarmed, as if you've asked for his social security number. "What?" He thinks you'll be forward and ask for his number next, seemingly forgetting how coffee orders work.

"Your name? For the order?" You explain, trying to ease his worries. He's odd, but in an endearing way. You believe this is his first time here because you're confident you would've remembered him.

"Fuck, right, yeah," he nervously says, pinching the bridge of his nose, "My name's Carmen."

"Your Americano will be right out, Carmen," you tell him, capping your sharpie back up.

Carmy quickly pays and stands to the side to wait for his order. He forces himself to not look at you or in your direction as you take other customers' orders. He just knows he's made a fool of himself already. Not that it matters. Why would it matter? He's there for the coffee. Nothing else, no one else.

As he walks out of Bee Hive, he sips his coffee. His shoulders instantly drop, and his fear-induced anxiety starts to dissipate for the moment. He's unsure if the effect is because of the caffeine or the thoughts of your pretty smile.

Visiting your coffee shop becomes routine for Carmy. Whenever things at The Bear become crazy -or he starts to lose his fuckin' mind- he makes his way to Bee Hive with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

For twenty minutes, he's free of Richie's constant hounding, Sugar's struggles with the permits and scheduling, and Sydney's disappointment because the menu is still extremely underway.

Each time he's stopped by, you've been there to greet him, and each time, you've left a little heart by Carmen's name, which makes his heart race in a peculiar way. His hands would touch his chest to check if it was heartburn, but it didn't feel like that. It's not anxiety either cause he knows pretty well how that feels.

All he knows is he hasn't done anything to deserve such a gesture. He's convinced himself you draw little hearts for everyone because he's not special.

One Thursday afternoon, Carmy realizes he doesn't know your name. He looks for a name tag, but you're not wearing one on your yellow apron. He should know your name if you insist on making small talk despite his short answers.

He can't help it. He gets too in his head to answer like a normal person, so his answers come out choppy and dry.

"Alright, Carmen, your order will be right out," you say, handing his cup to one of the baristas. You always hold out and ask him what he wants to order. He has the right to change his mind anytime, but for now, he's stuck with the americano, which he drowns in sugar.

As curiosity eats at him, he gathers the courage to ask. "Thanks. Hey, uh, I've-I’ve never gotten your name…” Carmy says, cursing at himself for not formulating the question correctly. His hand comes up to grip his hair instinctually.

Your smile widens when he asks your name. The silly crush you've developed for your customer fluttering to life. It's just a crush over a stranger, nothing to write home about.

You tell him your name but follow it with "-call me Honey. Everyone knows me by that name. I'm sure if you ask my friends about me with my real name, you'll throw them for a loop."

You're rambling, hoping he doesn't think calling you by your nickname is weird. Then again, how can he judge when he has a sister people call 'Sugar' and he and his siblings also don the nickname 'Bear.'

"Honey." Carmy repeats your nickname, smiling as he finds it fitting. "In that case, call me Carmy."

"Nice to properly meet you, Carmy," you say, grinning.

Like all the days before, Carmy steps aside and waits for his coffee. He doesn't let himself continue the conversation or ask more about you even if it’s everything he wants to do.

It's rare for Carmy to be in a good mood, and whenever it happens, it doesn't tend to last. His goal of opening a restaurant in 12 weeks makes it impossible for him to relax and enjoy the ride. To prolong this unusual feeling, Carmy stops by Bee Hive on his way to The Bear.

"Have you made your boss angry, Honey?" He asks as he pulls out his wallet to pay. He ordered the americano as he always does.

"No…why do you ask?" You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

"Uh, 'cause you-you're always here. Do you not take days off? Not that I'm complaining. I-I like seeing you here." Carmy's words get quieter as he speaks, red creeping up his neck. So much for trying to make a joke.

You look around the room and tell him, "Imma let you in on a little secret."

Carmy follows your hand, waving him to get closer. The smell of cigarettes invades your senses as you get close to him. You'd never admit that the mix of his cigarettes and your coffee is addicting. As both lean over the counter, you whisper, "I'm the boss. I can't run away even if I wanted to."

"You own the coffee shop," Carmy pans in shock.

Carmy is more than surprised at your words. Especially now that he knows how expensive it is to open a business. You can't be a day over 25 and own a successful coffee place. There is hope, after all.

"I do," you nod, standing straight once more.

A couple of years ago, you had inherited a hefty amount of money from an estranged aunt. Fresh out of college and with no real plan, you thought it would be a good moment to follow your dream and open the cozy café.

"How do you do it?" Carmy asks, amazed at the girl smiling at him. "I don't know if you know, but, um, I-I'm opening the restaurant around the block. Used to be The Beef?" He finishes grimly as he points to his side of the block.

"Oh, yeah. The guys who worked there helped me move some equipment when I first opened two years ago," you reveal, "Tell you what, whenever you have a break, come around. I'll give you a free americano and tell you all about it. Neighbor to neighbor."

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Carmy agrees. "I'll take you up on that."

Weeks go by, and Carmy seemingly forgets about Bee Hive and your pending conversation. You try not to overthink about his absence or how you might've scared him away. He's probably just busy remodeling his restaurant. You know better than anyone how much time that takes.

Still, his presence has become part of your routine, and you can't help but look at the door each time the bell rings. You expect to see him walking up to the counter, the remnants of cigarette smoke coming out his nose as he breathes.

You're pretty close to your assumption because Carmy has been dealing with the fire suppression test. They didn't fail the test once but twice, and if they didn't pass it on the third try, their plan to open the restaurant in 12 weeks goes out the window. Fak has tried everything, and nothing works.

He'd sent Richie once on a coffee run, but the fuckin' idiot went to the nearest Starbucks. Carmy had been looking forward to tasting your coffee and seeing his name in the cup with the little heart because he's 100% sure he's the only Carmen you know. It's not a common name in these parts of town.

One very early morning, he's walking to work, and as he passes Bee Hive, he sees you inside, wiping tables down before you open at 6:30.

Impulsively, he knocks on the glass, not giving himself the time to overthink things. You turn to look at the window and see him standing outside, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his familiar plaid jacket to protect himself from the chilly March air.

"Hey stranger," you greet him, opening the door and inviting him in.

"Hi," he breathes out, staring at you, "you're here early," he tries to casually mention.

You roll your eyes dramatically and say, "It's a downside of the job. Did you know people want coffee at the crack of dawn?"

You try acting as nonchalant as possible. It's not like you missed seeing one of your favorite customers, his beautiful blue eyes, or the way he rocks a simple white t-shirt.

"I had no idea," Carmy smiles, bringing his tattooed hand up to his lips, "I, uh, usually drink mine at night." That much is true. On those sleepless nights when insomnia takes over him, the best remedy is coffee.

"Would you make an exception and join me for a morning coffee at the crack ass of dawn?" Anxiously, you play with the rings on your fingers. It feels like you're asking the guy on a date when it's just a friendly coffee.

"As long as you have some business advice to spare?" Carmy responds shakily. He briefly looks down the street to glimpse at his restaurant. It's too early for anyone to be there yet.

"Deal."

Throwing the towel over your shoulder, you make your way behind the counter. Carmy attempts to make small talk with you as you prepare both drinks.

This is the first time he's watching you in action since you tend to stick to the cash register when he's around. It's not a coincidence. After the first time he came to Bee Hive, you wanted to see more of him, so you stationed yourself at the register where you'd be sure to see him, and he'd see you.

"Here you go." You place his coffee mug on the table along with yours before disappearing momentarily and returning with an orange soufflé coffee cake. You're pulling all the stops for Carmy to leave a good impression.

Carmy thanks you and sips his coffee, "Wow, this is fire!" He expected to taste an americano, but what you prepared was entirely different. He can make out hints of hazelnut and caramel in the coffee.

"Thanks. I took the liberty of changing your order. You can always come back to the americano, though…" you shrug shyly, looking at him over the rim of your mug.

"I-I appreciate it. Thanks." Carmy throws you a nervous grin. He gestures with his tattooed hand to dig into the cake you brought out. He shouldn't be the only one eating.

You and Carmy share the cake as you talk about yourselves and the crazy businesses you own. Somehow, talking to you comes easy to him. He's still nervous and scared to fuck things up, but the warm coffee and your even warmer smile ease him into it.

"How do you do it? This place is always packed, and you seem like you run a tight ship," Carmy wonders, playing with the fork. The cake is long gone, although the notes of orange remain on his tongue. Would you taste the same?

"It wasn't without mistakes. I had to learn a lot from my fuck ups and listen to my team because although I'm the owner, they are the ones doing most of the work. Whenever there's a flaw, they are the first to know," you speak softly, afraid of ruining the calm ambiance you've set up, twirling the small amount of coffee left in your mug.

It's your favorite part of morning coffee. When you have just the smallest bit of coffee left, and you know you'll never drink it because it's cold, but it gives you an excuse to remain where you are.

"So, all I gotta do is listen?" It's funny you say that because Carmy listens, but his friend's voices get muddled somewhere along the way. As much as he tries to focus on them, they merge together and form a cacophony in his head.

"A lot of listening and a lot of experimentation. I've been open for two years, and it's only been in the last six months that I can confidently tell you we found our groove," you admit with a grimace.

Bee Hive is your baby, but bringing it to life was everything but easy. You messed up so many times, costing you so much money. You didn't know shit about owning a business or building one from the ground up. Doing research and putting your pride aside to ask for help got you through it.

"I've only been doing this for, like, less than a fuckin' year, and I already want to pull my hair out," Carmy admits with a pitiful laugh.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you it gets better soon," you say apologetically, reaching for his hand that rests on the table.

Carmy freezes, glancing at your hand on top of his. He hasn't got a clue what to fucking do with the display of affection. Was it a display of affection? He doesn't fucking know. "It's, uh, it's, uh, it's alright. As-as long as you give me coffee, I think I can make it through," Carmen furrows his eyebrows as he stutters through the sentence.

"I can't wait to see what the award-winning chef does," you say, bringing your hand back to your lap, none the wiser to Carmy's internal struggle.

He should've done something to keep your hand on his. Place his other hand on yours or fucking turn his hand around to grasp it. He liked feeling your warm skin on his. It hasn't been a minute since you pulled away, and he's craving it already. It's ridiculous. Is he really that touch-starved that he's seeking affection from a near stranger?

He coughs and darts his eyes between the wooden table top and you, "Fuck. You-you know about that?"

"I might've done some research after finding out you're opening the restaurant. I got curious. I'm sorry." Apologizing is your default thing to do. Messing things up is your area of expertise. You really didn't think he'd mind you mentioning it.

"No, no, no, uh, you don't have to apologize. You just caught me off guard," Carmy shakes his head, reassuring both of you.

"Okay, good," you lightly smile at him, averting your eyes when your gazes meet.

If there's a time for you to make a move, it's now. Taking a shaky breath, you speak up, "I was wondering if you'd ever like to-."

A loud knock on the glass door interrupts you. You and Carmy jump and look towards the source of the noise. It's one of your regular clients, waving at you to open up. Looking at your watch, you see it's 6:30 already.

"Shit. I'm-I'm sorry I took so much of your time," Carmy apologizes, picking up his mug and the plate to put away.

You grab his wrist to make him stop in his tracks, "Relax. I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe we can do it again soon?"

Carmy nods wide-eyed. He likes the idea just as much as you do. You take away the mug and plate with a soft 'okay.' He then follows you to the door as you unlock it and turn the sign to 'open.'

"I, um, gotta go work on the menu. I'll probably be back later for another coffee?" Carmen asks you as if he's asking for permission, which you find adorable.

"I'll be behind the register," you say, watching him walk away. He turns his head back for a moment, and you catch the smile gracing his lips as yours turns to mimic him.

"Oh, he's cute," your customer, an older lady, says, watching him go along with you. "It's about time you got a boyfriend."

"Mrs. O'Hara, here for your tea?" You ask her, ignoring the comment about your love life. That woman will set you up with anyone. She does love her tea, though, and expects you to provide it on time.

It's slow, but Carmen warms up to you. Instead of grabbing his coffee to go, he now drinks it at the café, coincidentally around the same time you take your break.

He's been hesitantly opening up. It's not like he's telling you about how fucked up his family is or how his brother committed suicide. More often, it's about the restaurant and his work as a chef, the struggles of getting every permit they need on a tight schedule since they are supposed to open in about four weeks now, or the occasional childhood memory. It's everything you need to know at this stage.

You love listening to Carmy talk, even if you have to coax it out of him sometimes. He's passionate about the restaurant despite all the stress that comes from it, and he adores the people he works with. He's shy but not in a dorky way because he's actually fascinating. Before meeting him, you never knew that collecting denim was a thing.

The smell of cigarettes that clings to him is also tightly laced with his character. When you step outside to get some sun and the scent of someone smoking hits you, your heart instantly speeds up, hoping it's him coming for his daily americano, or to come swoop you away into a sunset.

"-I fell on my ass in the middle of the street. I was freaking out, thinking I was gonna get run over by a car," you exclaim as you tell Carmy about the crazy Christmas you spent in New York last year.

"It's New York. You probably would have been run over," Carmy chuckles along with you. "There was this one time I was running late and-" His phone vibrating interrupts him.

"Sorry, it's just the fridge guy," he tells you with a furrow of his eyebrows. You notice he does that a lot when he's thinking deeply. Carmy silences it and looks back over to you.

"You should pick that up. A busted fridge is the last thing you need. Trust me. Been there, done that." You encourage him to take the call. The restaurant is more important than your story about how you bruised your coccyx in New York.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Carm! Call him back before you forget," you insist, grabbing his empty cup to trash it. You don't give him any other option, leaving him there to help your employees with a faulty machine.

He watches you closely, closer than ever before. He allows himself to watch how you frown at the machine and how your ringed fingers fumble with the knobs. His eyes keep trailing down involuntarily, and they take in how nicely your jeans hug your ass.

He goes into a spiral into these old pair of Levi jeans popular in the 90s and how they would fit nicely with the shape of your hips and legs. Carmy continues on the tangent, imagining himself peeling them off your body.

The phone vibrating in his hand snaps him out of it. Clearing his throat, he picks up the phone and walks outside. He waves at you through the window as he makes his way back to The Bear. Your frustration at the machine vanishes momentarily as you wave back, except the machine splatters, forcing you to redirect your attention. When you look outside again, he's gone.

Stakes are high at The Bear. There's less than four weeks until Friends and Family, and there is much to do. Marcus has returned from Copenhagen and is working on the desserts. Tina is doing her job as the new sous chef. Fak and Sweeps are helping out wherever they can. And Richie is being Richie, trying to be open but resisting change.

"I need coffee or a pop. Anything with caffeine," Sydney says, throwing her head back. She and Carmen have been working on the chaos menu for hours, and she keeps messing up. Carmy insists that it's okay that they'll adjust and get it right soon, but she's beginning to lose hope.

"Me too. I'd kill for an espresso," Natalie agrees, softly rubbing her hand over her growing bump.

"I thought you couldn't have caffeine cause of the baby," Richie mentions, remembering Tiff's time while pregnant.

"I don't need you to fuckin' tell me what I can or can't eat, Richie," Natalie yells, glaring at him. Although he's right, the doctor told her to limit her caffeine intake. Hard to do when she's up all night thinking about everything she needs to do for The Bear.

"Shit. I'm sorry for fucking caring," Richie screams back, lifting his hands up in defense.

"I can go to the coffee place down the block. Get everyone something," Carmy pipes up, looking forward to seeing you today.

Natalie is quick to shoot that idea down, "You can't. The fridge guy is coming in 20 minutes."

"Fuck, that's right," Carmy groans, digging his head in his hands. His fingers rake through his hair, messing up his curls. He wanted to see you and talk to you, even if it was for five short minutes.

"I'll go," Sydney sighs. She needs to leave the kitchen for more than five minutes, or she'll go crazy, "Just tell me what you guys want to order."

Natalie grumbles about getting decaf, Richie orders a plain black coffee, and Carmy asks for his americano. As Sydney leaves to ask Marcus, Carmy yells after her, "Please, go to Bee Hive. If you get Starbucks, I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Richie and Natalie exchange a look. Richie because he's confused, and Natalie because she knows something is happening with Carmy. He's never been picky over coffee. In fact, they have an old coffee machine in the office that now goes unused because he's always at that coffee shop.

"Sorry, I didn't get the fuckin' memo. Since when is Starbucks bad?" Richie frowns, looking to get a rise out of Carmy.

"I don't think it's about the coffee, cousin," Natalie responds, directing her gaze towards her brother, who is hunched over the counters, chopping vegetables.

"If it's not about the coffee, what is it about?" Richie questions, crossing his arms.

"Shut the fuck up, Sugar," Carmy grumbles, looking at his sister with a glare. He already knows where she's going. She tried to bring it up a couple of days ago after she walked by the coffee shop and saw him being friendly with you.

Natalie smiles and responds, "Carmy has a crush on the barista."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a crush on her." Carmy shakes his head, avoiding Richie and Natalie's eyes on him. They always do this. They gang up on him if he shows even the slightest interest in a girl. They think they can help, but all they do is embarrass him.

"Come on, Bear. Why else would you go almost every day to get coffee?" Natalie asks, giving him a look.

"Because it's good fuckin' coffee. Jesus, it's not that deep." Carmy grabs the veggies he chopped and drops them into a container to use later.

"It's okay to admit you like a pretty girl, cousin! I'm excited for you! Makes you human and not a lonely hermit," Richie jokes, pushing on Carmy's buttons. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"I swear to God, Richie. Shut the fuck up," Carmy points at him angrily.

"No, I should go with Sydney and see who this girl is!" Richie says, walking out of the half-built kitchen.

Carmy follows him instantly, "You're not going fuckin' anywhere, fuckin' jagoff." He's turning red from anger, seeing Richie with his mocking smile. Natalie follows behind them, amused at the situation. It reminds her of the banters they used to get in with Mickey.

"Admit that you like her," Richie shrugs, giving him a choice.

"No, I won't," Carmy refuses. "You always do this shit."

"Then, I'm going," Richie nods, stepping towards the door.

"Fuck! Shit, alright. I like her, okay? Don't fucking go anywhere," Carmy yells, rubbing a hand on his face out of frustration. It's like he's not allowed to keep anything good to himself.

"Was that so hard?" Richie grins, clapping a hand on Carmy's shoulder.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," Carmy grumbles, walking back to the kitchen. Natalie follows him with a smile, shaking her head at Richie.

Carmy sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has yet to admit that he likes you more than he should. He's been avoiding it, afraid of what it might lead to, or rather, what it might not.

He couldn't let Richie go see you. He has a big fuckin' mouth and will tell you Carmy has a crush on you whether it's true or not. Just like that, he feels the sour taste in his mouth, his heartburn making an appearance. Carmy should go look for his pepto before it gets worse.

Unaware of the argument back at The Bear, Sydney walks to Bee Hive. She's walked past many times but has yet to have the time to stop and try it out.

As she waits in line, she reads over the drinks menu. It's clear that it's been carefully curated. Starbucks has nothing on this menu. She can see why Carmy would prefer to come here instead.

When it's her turn to order, Sydney takes out her phone to recite everyone's drink order. She also points to a few pastries, thinking Marcus would like to try some of them and get inspiration. That and she knows Natalie will enjoy them as well.

You're sitting at a table close to the pickup counter. You often find yourself all over the store, ensuring everything goes smoothly. Sometimes, you stop to talk to your regulars and see how they're doing.

You notice Sydney struggling with all the cups she has to carry. It's proving difficult despite the to-go trays your barista put them in. Deciding to approach her, you ask, "Do you need help?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks," Sydney responds with a nervous smile. She's trying hard to grab everything, including the box with the pastries.

You continue watching her struggle because you know she needs help. You let her try and figure it out for one more minute before stepping in again when she almost drops two of the drinks, "Need some help now?"

"Yeah," Sydney sighs, "I guess I can leave one of the trays here, go to the restaurant, and come back for the rest," she speaks mostly to herself.

"Are you going far?"

"No, just the restaurant down the block," Sydney responds with a sigh, scratching her eyebrow as she tries to figure out the logistics of carrying the drinks. She could get a box to put everything in.

You perk up at her response. The only restaurant down the block is Carmen's. Could she work there? "Carmy's restaurant?"

"You know Carmy?" Sydney asks, tilting her head. Maybe Nat was right. Carmy spends his time here because of the woman in front of her.

"He comes here often. Anyway, I can go with you to help you out. It's not far, and I'd feel bad if your drinks got cold." You offer to help her out because you're a nice person. Not because you want a chance to see the curly-haired man you are developing feelings for.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's really not a problem," you press, grabbing one of the to-go trays and motioning for her to lead the way.

Sydney sighs in defeat and nods, "Thanks. I'm Sydney, by the way."

"I'm Honey," you smile, following her outside.

You chat all the way to the restaurant with Sydney. She reminds you of Carmy in some ways, so you can see why they are friends. Before arriving at the restaurant, Sydney apologizes in advance for any sort of mess there might be, including yelling.

As you near the building under renovation, your palms start to sweat. Maybe you shouldn't have come. You're showing up unannounced, and he's probably too busy to talk to you anyway. You can slip in and out without him noticing. That's the goal now.

You open the door for Sydney, letting her go through first, and quietly follow her into the restaurant. There's no time to escape, as all eyes are instantly on you.

Richie is arguing with Fak when he sees you walk in. He narrows his eyes as Carmy looks in your direction from the kitchen. With just one glance to Carmy's face, he knows who you're supposed to be.

"Guess I didn't have to go anywhere. She came to me," Richie whispers, rushing out the door.

"Shut the fuck up. Where are you going? Don't embarrass me!" Carmy whispers out to Richie unsuccessfully.

"Oh, you'll do that all by yourself," Richie throws over his shoulder.

"Honey, hey, what-what're you doing here?" Carmy speaks, not giving Richie a chance to open his big mouth. He stands between you and Richie, blocking him for the time being.

"Sydney needed help with the drinks," you answer nervously, averting your eyes.

"Oh, thanks for that. You didn't have to," Carmy approaches you and takes the drinks from your hands. His fingers brush with yours momentarily, causing you both to blush.

"I did, or else you probably wouldn't have anything to drink," you whisper to him.

Sydney, Fak, and Richie all watch the interaction amusedly. Richie has a big teasing grin on his face as he makes a plan in his head.

"Hi, I'm Richie! Carmy's cousin," he introduces himself, shoving Carmy to the side and shaking your hand enthusiastically. "I gotta say Carmen right here is obsessed with your coffee. He's banned us from getting Starbucks."

Carmy curses under his breath as Richie does precisely what he tells him not to. He has the urge to throw the coffee at him and run away.

"Is that right?" You ask, amused, looking over at Carmy with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Richie answers for him as Carmy tries to find the right words to say. "Cousin, why don't you give the nice lady a tour of the place?"

"It's not done yet. Could be dangerous," Carmy hopelessly says with a gulp.

"Nonsense! You'll take care of her!" Richie insists. He takes the coffee from Carmy's hands and pushes him in your direction. "Go give her a tour."

Richie, Sydney, and Fak all disappear to the office to stay out of the way and try to snoop simultaneously. Fak sends Carmy a not-so-discreet thumbs-up that makes you giggle.

He's internally screaming at his so-called friends but is glad to see you. It was all he wanted before Sydney left to get their drinks. It's strange having you here at The Bear, though. He's so used to seeing you in your own space back at Bee Hive.

Trying to make things better, you say, "Sorry you've been roped into this. You probably have better things to do. I can go-"

Carmy doesn't let you finish. "No, stay. I want to show you around."

"Let's see what you got then, Berzatto," you grin, following him to the kitchen.

Carmy takes his time showing you The Bear. He wants you to stay. He wants to spend time with you but doesn't really know how to say it. So he takes it slow, answers your questions about the restaurant, shows you the front and how everything will be laid out, and introduces you to the ones around, including the fridge guy working on the handle.

Sadly, you get a call from Bee Hive asking you to come back. Carmy walks you outside, dreading having to say goodbye.

"I'm really excited for The Bear to open. You have a great place and team," you tell Carmy.

"I really got lucky with them, huh?" He asks, playing with a dish towel.

"I gotta go. I'll see you later, Berzatto." You don't know where you got the guts to lean towards him and kiss his cheek.

Carmy stays still as his face heats up. You start walking away and throw him a smile over your shoulder. When you're a distance away, he touches the cheek you kissed. Back inside, Richie runs over to Sugar to tell her what he just witnessed.

It's late when Carmy leaves The Bear. As he walks to the train station, he has his hands stuffed in his jacket pocket. On his way, he sees a lone light turned on in your café. Crossing the street to check it out, he sees you're still there with glasses perched on your nose in front of the computer.

He tries the door, and to his luck, it's open. You look in his direction, startled, but relax once you see it's him.

"Nice glasses," Carmy teases, pulling out a chair to sit.

"Are you making fun of me?" You purse your lips, propping your chin on your palm.

"No, I…I think you look cute with them," Carmy admits. After a stern talk from Sugar and Richie, he's realized he should probably make a proper move on you because if what they say is true, you also have a crush on him.

"Thanks," you blush, the light from your screen making it obvious to Carmy, who can't stop the corners of his lips from turning up into a smile.

"Late night?"

"One of my baristas is moving out of state. I have to find someone new, preferably who has experience," you say with a sigh. Glancing at him, you add, "Are you perhaps interested in the position?"

"Poaching me from my own restaurant, nice. I'll let you know I'm an excellent worker," Carmy jokes, tapping his fingers on the table.

There's no doubt in your mind he's an excellent worker. He has to be if he's considered one of the best up-and-coming chefs. Or to work in one of the best restaurants in the world with three Michelin stars.

"I don't know. I'll need references," you speak as if not believing him.

Carmy smiles and softly chuckles, "Fair enough."

There's a moment of silence between the two of you that Carmy is quick to fill, "So, uh, have you had dinner yet by chance?" This is it.

You shake your head no and look at him with hopeful eyes.

"Wanna go grab pizza? I know a place," he asks, finding your gaze on him.

"Say no more," you say, closing your laptop and taking off your glasses. "I'm starving."

Carmy waits for you to lock Bee Hive and grab your things. Then, you both walk to the pizza place. To pass the time, you and Carmy talk about your days and anything that comes to mind. Nothing serious as you get to know each other.

Waiting in line to order the pizza, you tell him all about your nickname and how you were donned 'Honey' to everyone who knows you. In return, he tells you about his nickname 'Bear' and why his restaurant is named as such. For the first time, he dares mention Mickey.

"Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy says, taking a slice of the pie and placing it on your plate.

"I'll see about that," you murmur. You wait until he has a slice of his own and dig in simultaneously.

"It's good, but this is not the best pizza place in Chicago," you say after chewing the first bite, "I'm gonna get your chef license revoked."

"Are you? With what proof? Have you tried all the pizza places to know?"

"I don't have to because I've tried the best," you hum, taking another bite. The cheese stretches as you pull it away.

"Oh yeah? Which one?" Carmy questions you, taking a drink of his beer.

"Mine. The pizza I make is the best," you shrug modestly.

"Wait. You cook?" Carmy asks, giving you a look of surprise.

Cooking is a universal thing. Most people know how to cook up to a degree, yet only some are as confident in their skills as you are. You know you're definitely not up to Carmy's level, but if there is something you know how to do properly, it's pizza.

"Yeah! You're not the only good cook here, Berzatto," you sass back at him, dipping the pizza crust in the marinara sauce.

"Sorry for assuming," he raises his palms.

"You're forgiven," you chirp.

"When will I try this famous pizza of yours then?" Carmy wonders. An attempt to see if you'd like to see more of him.

"I promise I'll make it for you once you open The Bear. You're too stressed to fully enjoy it now," you respond. You were reaching out. Throwing hints that you want this to continue in the foreseeable future.

The conversation continues to flow with an empty pizza box in front of you. Customers come and go until it's only the two of you and a drunk customer picking up his pizza.

"Tell me about your tattoos. Were they an act of rebellion or something else?"

It's an excuse to touch his hands. You reach for them, turning them to see the black ink on his hands and fingers. You gently trace over them with the pads of your fingers. Over the hand that's stabbed, the letters S.O.U. on his knuckles and the forget-me-nots. The one you're dying to touch, though, is the one on his bicep; you'd give anything to feel the hard muscle underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white t-shirt.

"Uh, my first tattoo is the 773. Got it when I left Chicago for the first time. After that, I sort of became addicted to them. I found they helped my anxiety when it was becoming too much. The pain distracted me and made me feel stronger than I actually was," he says, letting you touch him. He finds that he likes it. Your touch is soft and warm. Comforting.

"So what you're trying to say is you're a masochist," you say, bouncing your eyebrows at him. Your touch goes further up his arm to turn it and look at the fish tattoo on his forearm.

"I guess so," Carmy responds with a breathy laugh, "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Maybe…" You shrug as the pads of your fingers trail back down to his palm until you pull them back towards you. Carmy instantly misses the feeling, opting to cross his arms to retain the warmth you left behind.

"It's bad, isn't it?" He says knowingly. Your reaction told him everything he needed to know.

"The worst," you grimace, shaking your head at the memory of you getting it.

"So, rebellion or something else?"

"Rebellion. For all the wrong reasons," you groan, burying your face in your hands, "Growing up, everyone saw me as a good girl because that's what I was. Breaking the rules terrified me. So, as a teenager, I didn't want to be seen as a goody two shoes, so the summer before I went to college, I decided that getting a tattoo would make me a badass."

"Did it work?"

"God, no. I only got the outline done 'cause it hurt like a bitch. Then I went crying to my parents, fully having a meltdown, apologizing for disappointing them," You scrunch your nose as you say the following words, "They laughed in my face, called me a wimp, and told me to suck it up."

Carmy fully laughs at your story. Head thrown back, eyes closing, "What did you get?"

"That's a secret, Berzatto," you purse your lips, avoiding responding. You just know he'll make fun of you for it.

Everyone who has seen your tattoo has made fun of you for it, yourself included. It's so silly and not badass. Carmy will have to wait to see your tattoo, and you hope this continues so he can see it up close.

"Really? That bad?" Carmy stares wide-eyed.

"It's terrible," you nod, leaning on the table. "We should probably get going before the waitress throws a fit."

Carmy looks over his shoulder to see the waitress glaring at them. It's five minutes till close, and they've made no move to go. He turns back to you and nods towards the door. Carmy helps you with your jacket and leaves a tip on the jar for the waitress. At that, she happily calls after them with a 'Good night!'

"Do you live far?" Carmy asks, seeing how dark it is now that most places have closed. There are too many lamp posts that aren't working. He'd feel better if he could walk you home or you called an Uber. Preferably the former.

"Only a couple of blocks away. Why?"

"It's late. Let me walk you home," Carmy says decidedly, not giving you much of a choice.

"Thanks," you respond with a small smile.

The pace you set is slow. You don't want your time with Carmy to end just yet. He's such an interesting and sweet guy. He's a little awkward, but it adds to his charm, and you can see he's trying.

Somewhere along the way, his hand brushes against yours briefly. Then, it happens again, and you decide to bite the bullet. You grasp his hand in yours.

"Is this okay?" You ask when he falls silent.

Carmy doesn't have a lot of experience with girls. He can't even remember the last time he held a girl's hand. All he knows is he doesn't remember ever feeling this good. "Yes, uh, this is okay."

Carmy walks you up to your front door when you reach your house. You unlock the door but stay outside face-to-face with Carmy.

"Thanks for the pizza," you say, fiddling with your fingers. You were about to make one more move for the night. Because as long as Carmy allows you, you'll keep pushing for more.

"Sorry, it wasn't the best," he retorts, rubbing his jaw with his hand. You notice he does that a lot when nervous.

"Your company made up for it," you reassure him, "g'night Carmy." You kiss his cheek goodbye, watching as his cheeks blush.

"Night," he whispers.

As you turn to leave, Carmy stops you by grabbing your wrist, "Wait-uh, can I? Uh-shit. Fuck it." For a second, Carmy shuts out the excessive thoughts in his head and does what he's been dying to do for weeks.

Carmy cups your jaw and kisses you. It's soft and slow. He gives you enough leeway to pull away if it's something you don't want, but you reciprocate eagerly. You've been waiting for this all night.

As confidence surges through his body, Carmy throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands resting on his neck, tangling on his curls. The tug of your fingers feels like heaven.

The kiss turns needy and desperate, your lips moving perfectly in sync. His tongue brushes over your lip; Carmy has been dying to test a theory. Are you as sweet as your name?

He's rewarded by a little noise in the back of your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's endearing, and he finds a way to make you do it again. With heads tilting to deepen the kiss, he concludes he was right. You're pure honey. Sweet and addicting.

When Carmy returns to his apartment, he gets the urge to create, to cook. He wants to bring your taste to life with his cooking. Something with honey.

"I was wondering if you'd want to come to the restaurant for Family and Friends."

You and Carmy are in your little office at Bee Hive. He stands between your legs as you sit on the desk. His lips are slightly red and swollen, and the hair at the nape of his neck is messier than usual.

"Hm, I could be persuaded," you pretend to think as you play with the golden chain around his neck, pulling him towards you.

"Yeah?" Carmy laughs, leaning to brush his lips against yours. When he feels you nod, he closes the small gap between the two of you.

His hands hold your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. He tastes like coffee, which is to be expected from the discarded cup beside you. It's funny how your relationship, if it could be called that, has moved all around Bee Hive from the register to the front and now to your office.

You're at a weird spot where you're not exactly friends because friends don't kiss, but you're not a couple either. It's a situationship for sure. You're content with what you have now, although you'd also love it if Carmy were to ask you to be more. You pin it on him being shy. He'll get around to it.

"What do you say?" Carmy questions as he kisses a trail from your cheek to your jaw.

"Consider me in," you giggle when he kisses a tickly spot.

Carmy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, remaining close to you. This is what he needs. After months of stress and anxiety of having to deal with The Beef, now The Bear, he needed you and your calming presence. Someone removed from the chaos, a safe haven.

He's quiet as his thoughts consume him, and you take the intimate position to fix his gold chain. Turning it so the clasp faces the back instead of the front. "I'm excited, Carmy," you say with a smile, brushing his cheek with your thumb.

"You can bring someone with you," Carmy offers nervously because he realizes he probably won't have the time to spend much time with you. "I-I don't think I'll be around much. I'm sorry. I'd understand if that makes you change your mind," Carmy drops his head as he braces himself for disappointment.

As the weeks pass, you learn more about Carmy and his insecurities. It doesn't deter you from wanting to be with him. Everyone has their issues. "Berzatto, stop. Look at me," you softly divert his attention, "I'd love to go and support you even if it's from the sidelines."

"You sure?" He asks once more.

If reassurance is what he needs, that's what you'll give. "Don't worry about me. This is your moment, Carmy. Enjoy it. I'll be around afterward."

"Thank you for understanding," Carmy responds, stealing one more kiss from you.

When he returns to The Bear, he helps Sydney prep the dishes they finally chose to serve. He notes how everything is laid out and anything they should fix before opening.

Richie struts into the kitchen with a suit on. Apparently, it's his thing now. Carmy figures staging at Chef Terry's restaurant had a good impact on him. All Carmy wanted was to show Richie he had what it takes. That he's not a fuck up.

"Glad to see things are going well with Honey," Richie thunders.

"What are you talking about?" Carmy says in a rush as he plates the lamb expertly.

"That thing on your neck," Richie says, motioning to his own neck. He has a smug look on his face.

"I don't have time for this, cousin," Carmy grumbles, wiping the plate where the sauce might've splattered.

Groaning, Richie grabs one of the new pans and holds it in front of Carmy. "I don't see anything," he frowns, looking at Richie for an explanation.

"Right here," Richie points towards the edge of his t-shirt around his neck.

Carmy pulls it back and finally spots what Richie has been referring to. There is a fading purple bruise on his skin, a hickey. You must've done it when he was back in your office. He'd been too busy touching you to notice.

Sydney, silently watching, pipes up, "No wonder he hasn't been as on edge lately." Carmy shoots her a glare, which causes her to shrug and laugh with a, "What? It's true."

"Ay, yo, Sugar, get in here!" Richie yells down the hall to the office.

"What is it?" Natalie barges in, afraid something went to shit.

Carmy ignores Richie as he babbles to Natalie what he found. His face is red, though, as Sydney nudges his side.

"That's enough about me. We have shit to do," Carmy shouts in his chef's voice.

Everyone in the kitchen, including Richie and Natalie, repeats, "Yes, chef!"

Walking out of the kitchen Richie, 'whispers' to Natalie, "I've always wondered if he likes to be called chef in bed."

"Fuck off, Richie," Natalie glares, but then it falls, and it's replaced with a teasing grin, "He definitely does."

"I heard that! Don't you two have better things to do?" Carmy screams at them.

"Yes, chef!"

Carmy keeps hearing Cicero's 'Uh-oh' throughout the whole day. He understands Cicero, he really does, but to call you a distraction?

His work with The Bear is only starting. They managed to make it to Friends and Family. Now, they have to keep up their best work to fill up the restaurant daily and have a waiting list. His work is far from done. He should listen to Cicero.

Cicero said it with the best of intentions. He doesn't want the Berzatto siblings to fail. He wants to believe they'll succeed and, most importantly, get him his money.

If there is something Cicero has learned throughout the years, it is that girls are distractions. They mean well, but oftentimes, they keep your eyes off the ball. Especially when it's a new relationship like Carmy's. Ultimately, it's up to Carmy to decide what he wants to do. Cicero has played his part by giving him his advice.

One last delivery is made to the restaurant an hour before opening. Richie is the one to receive it and place it in front of Carmy. "She's a keeper, Cousin," he says with a pointed look and a nod. He also wants the best for Carmy, and yet it doesn't align with Cicero.

You knew Carmy would be too stressed and all over the place to eat or drink, so you sent everyone at The Bear a drink and a pastry. One of the cups has Carmen's name with a little heart and 'good luck' written on it.

"Yeah, she is," Carmy sighs, turning the cup in his hands to look at the message. His thumb brushes over your handwriting longingly. Is listening to Cicero the wise thing to do? He's one of the most successful men he knows in his family.

When it's 10 minutes till open, Carmy changes into his uniform and looks in the mirror. His heart is racing, begging for Friends and Family not to be a complete failure. Walking out of the bathroom, Carmy is a man on a mission.

It starts relatively well, but like everything in Carmy's life, the kitchen starts welcoming in the chaos.

They are too slow getting the orders out, which causes Sydney to start doubting herself and asking Carmy to step in. He reassures her she's doing good. They just have to keep up the pace.

Then, one of the new chefs disappears mid-rush. Forcing Tina to work two stations and Marcus to step out of his to help Sydney. Carmy ignores some weird tension between them as he works on ensuring the dishes are good to go.

Next thing he knows, Sugar is rushing into the kitchen, yelling at him about forks. It's wasted time, as he can't do anything about it. A shrill reverberates inside his head as he looks at the ticking clock. It's enough to give him a headache.

With no one to take a dish to its table, Carmy takes it upon himself to do it. There's no time to re-fire or wait for someone. He places it on their table and pours the tea into their cups before retreating with an 'enjoy.'

He looks at his restaurant, and suddenly, the ringing in his head gets louder. Sitting in a booth is his old boss, staring back at him like he did back in New York. Like he was waiting for Carmy to fail.

His voice echoes in Carmy's head. Why are you so fuckin' slow. Hurry up. Go faster motherfucker. Talentless piece of shit.

Right before Carmy spirals, it all goes away. His focus shifts entirely as he sees you taking your seat for the night. The one he chose because he'd be able to see you from the kitchen. You have successfully blocked the mirage he'd conjured up.

You're there with your brother as Richie talks you up, thanking you for coming. As if sensing him, your eyes lock with Carmys. Shyly, you send him a wave, which he returns, thanking you in his head for getting there at the perfect time.

Carmy ducks back to the kitchen with newfound energy. Richie enters shortly after him.

"Chef, your girl is here."

"Thanks, Chef, um, do you have the notepad?" Carmy asks as he continues cleaning dishes and making sure each one is up to par.

"Here you go."

Taking the notepad from Richie, he begins scribbling. I love- No, too fuckin' soon. Thank you for- Nope, it's too stale.

I'm happy you're here, Honey. Wait for me after you're done? -Bear

"Here," Carmy hands it to him without even looking at Richie.

"Keep up the good work, Chefs," Richie yells out to the room before disappearing to the front of the house. The door swinging shut behind him.

"Yes, Chef!"

Something isn't working in the kitchen. They're too backed up, and no matter how hard they try, they're always a tad too slow. Through Sydney surrounding the wheel to Richie, Carmy steals glances out the kitchen window. You're smiling at whatever your brother says, your lips sipping the wine he chose. Carmy can get through this night because, in the end, you'll be waiting for him.

"There he is," you sing as you spot Carmy walking out of the kitchen. The chef's whites back in his locker as he sports his white t-shirt, jeans, and jacket.

Fak, who kept you company while Carmy finished up, speaks up next, "My brother, I'm gonna grab a sandwich and head home. Honey, it was a pleasure meeting you."

"You too, Neil!"

"Thanks for everything," Carmy tells him, giving him a hug and a pat like dudes do.

Carmy turns and grabs your hand to pull you close and kiss your cheek. "What did you think?"

"It was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted," you tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

There's a reason Carmy has had so many accolades despite his young age. He has a gift in the kitchen. The moment his food touched your taste buds, your life changed. He and Sydney outdid themselves, and the way everything flowed showed how much work they put into the restaurant.

"You're exaggerating," Carmy modestly says, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"I'm really not," you shake your head, pursing your lips. Carmy can't resist placing a small peck on your red-painted lips.

"What about your famous pizza?"

"No, it might be the best pizza in Chicago, but whatever I ate today topped it," you smile at him, scrunching your nose. "Consider your chef's license reinstated,"

"Thanks," Carmy laughs breathily, "Do you mind if we walk? I feel some of the rush still."

"Lead the way, Mr. Berzatto."

Carmy grabs your hand, leading you to the streets of Chicago. It's silent momentarily as the wind cools Carmy's heated face. He places his hand along with yours into his pocket.

"Did your brother like it?" He asks, breaking the ice.

"Oh yeah. I'm officially like the best sister ever," you respond, squeezing his hand.

You had accidentally forgotten that your brother had passed the Bar exam. So, you didn't have time to get him anything in celebration. You figured dinner at a lovely new restaurant would help while you got him a proper present.

"How did you feel throughout, though? It looked intense." You often found yourself looking through the small glass window into the kitchen. They were always on the move, looking for the next thing to do.

"It didn't just look like it. I'm used to it, though," Carmy admits with a sniff. Everyone's best and worst habits shone through for those couple of hours. It's an environment he's all too familiar with, in and out of the kitchen.

"That rough," you grimace.

"It's fine. We have a lot to work on, but it's a start, and it wasn't entirely terrible," Carmy says, thinking back on tonight. Before coming out to meet you, he wrote down a couple of things to go through with Sugar and Sydney.

"Good, 'cause I hope The Bear sticks around the block," you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

You invite Carmy into your house when you arrive. He takes up your offer, holding your hand to help you balance as you take your heels off. It reminds Carmy he forgot to mention how beautiful you looked today.

He follows you to the kitchen, watching your hips sway and your dress skirt swishing. Padding to the wine fridge, you pick out a bottle of red to celebrate.

Carmy indulges in looking at your legs as you stretch up to reach for the glasses of wine up in your cabinets. His blue eyes darken as your dress hikes up, exposing your pretty thighs.

His gaze darts back up at you when you turn around to place the glasses on the kitchen counter. You hand him the wine opener so he can do the honors because you suck at taking the cork out. It's why you mainly stick to cheaper wines with twist-off caps.

"Here is to The Bear and its amazing owner," you say, lifting your glass in front of you.

"Here's to not fuckin' it up entirely," Carmy follows, making you giggle. Your wine glasses clink, and you take a drink.

Placing the glass back down, Carmy pins you against the counter, his strong hands resting on the edge of it. You look at him through your lashes, a hand coming up to his chest to feel the steady thumping of his heart.

"You look beautiful. I like the dress," Carmy murmurs. It's better late than never.

The dress you wear is a pretty shade of light blue. Simple yet dressy. The neckline gives him a good view of your cleavage and has long sleeves to compensate for the shorter length. They currently cover the goosebumps lining your skin.

"Yeah? I picked it out thinking you might," you reveal, biting your lip. The shade reminded you of his eyes.

"You were right," he whispers, cupping your jaw. As pretty as the dress is, he's sure it'll look so much better on the floor.

Carmy closes his eyes as he leans down to kiss you. He's always struggled with words, so he hopes it's enough for you to catch what he's trying to say.

You smile into the kiss, blindly leaving your glass to the side to be able to touch him. Your palm presses against his chest and taut abdomen. He hides a nice amount of muscle under his t-shirts, a pleasant surprise.

Carmy easily lifts you up to sit down on the kitchen island. He steps between your legs, never breaking the heated kiss. The hands on your waist trail down to your thighs and under your dress. Carmy's tattooed hands squeeze your ass and thighs, earning him a moan from you.

This is the farthest you've ever gotten, and you're more than ready to have all of him. Carmy knows this, which leads to his thoughts getting out of control.

He has to make a decision now. Does he allow himself to be with you, or does he remain by himself like always? Richie's, Sugar's, Cicero's, and Sydney's voices all shout at him different things. Some are in favor, and others are in opposition. 'Uh oh.'

He can't lead you on and sleep with you if he will back out tomorrow. The voices become deafening in an instant, ripping him away from your embrace. His emotions bubbled over and spilled all over the place.

"Wait, stop, I just-" Carmy breathes heavily, taking a couple of steps back from you. Carmy's hand comes up to his forehead as he attempts to organize his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" You ask worriedly. Did you do something wrong?

Carmen's thoughts spill out his mouth without making much sense as he paces in your kitchen. "I can't stop thinking about it and owe it to my team..."

"Carm?" You slide off the kitchen counter, approaching him slowly.

"-keeps saying it's a distraction," he rambles mostly to himself. His heart is pounding painfully in his chest. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having a heart attack.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's a distraction?" Softly, you grab onto his arms, stopping him in his tracks, trying to find his lost gaze.

"You. Whatever this is," Carmy breathes, finally meeting your eyes, which he instantly regrets as your eyes turn sad.

The watering of your eyes is unintentional, as is the knot forming in your throat. "You think I'm distracting you?" You question barely above a whisper.

His response is instant, "Fuck, no, the opposite. W-When I'm with you or-or think about you, things get clearer, and it's-it's when I feel the most focused." Carmy holds your shoulders, comforting you because he never meant to hurt you. He can't stand the sad look in your eyes.

Slowly, you begin to piece together his rambling and conclude that other people have been telling him you're a distraction. You wonder if they don't want him to be happy. The Bear is the center of Carmy's life, and before that, it was the restaurant in New York. He deserves more than this crazy job.

"Then fuck what others tell you, Carmen. You deserve to have a life outside The Bear." Maybe you're selfish because you don't want to lose him, but you hope he believes your words.

"I-I don't. I don't deserve all your attention or your affection. I'm nothing special. I don't deserve you." Carmy says, shaking his head with furrowed brows.

Weeks ago, he had no source of enjoyment. He said it himself at the support group. Now, he has you, yet he can't bear the thought of you wanting to be with him. He feels like he's tricking you into a bad deal. That's what he is, though, isn't he? An overachieving fuck up with tons upon tons of baggage.

Carmen Berzatto is an anxious person with too many problems in his life. He has a fucked up family. His mother is a mentally unstable alcoholic. His brother was addicted to painkillers and decided that shooting himself on a bridge was better than living this life. That's without mentioning all the trauma he has from his job and the terrible people he's worked with.

What good does he have to offer you?

"Yes, you do," you reassure him, placing your hands on his cheeks. The cool metal of your rings soothes him somewhat, grounding him. "You deserve all that and more, Carmy. You're so sweet and kind and hard-working. You've been through shit. You deserve something good in life. Maybe it's me, or maybe it's not, but don't close yourself off."

You're begging at this point. Whatever this relationship is, it's just starting. He's not giving himself a chance. You like Carmy so damn much. He's funny without knowing it and thoughtful, too. There are so many qualities he doesn't realize he has.

His eyes watch you as tears line them. He's silently pleading for you to convince him. To get him out of his own head and forget the expectations others have on him.

"I'm not going to force you into anything, Carm. It's your call, but I've enjoyed our last couple of months together. I know we don't know each other completely, but I want to know everything about you. I have feelings for you, so whatever you decide, I'll support it."

Being honest is all you can do at this point. You pour your heart out and hope Carmy chooses you.

You and Carmy stand in the middle of your kitchen. Face to face, reaching out towards each other. It's clear as day that you want the same thing. It's only a matter of taking the right steps now.

"I can't let you go," Carmy responds, grabbing the hand on his cheek. His thumb brushes over the back of it.

"Then don't."

Carmy's decision is made. Without another thought, he smashes his lips against yours. He grabs the back of your neck, tilting your head to meet his heated kiss.

It's more intense now that the cards are on the table. Nothing to hold him back.

Tongues clash together as your bodies seek each other out. The temperature rises when Carmy lifts you up to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands are on the back of your thighs, holding tight onto you.

"Bedroom?" He asks, breaking the kiss, a trail of saliva between the two of you.

"Down the hallway," you breathe heavily, kissing down his neck.

Carmy makes it to the bedroom, opening the door with a bang. He spots your bed, placing you in the middle with him holding himself up on top of you.

He watches as your back meets the bed and your fair fans around you like a halo. The curvature of your breasts accentuated even more from the position.

Carmy hikes your leg further up his hips as he dips down to kiss a wet trail down to the neckline of your dress. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on the rounded flesh, nipping at the skin playfully when you arch your back to push more into him.

"Carmy," you breathe, cupping his jaw to pull him back to your lips. Grinding your hips, you manage to graze against his bulge.

"Shit," Carmy shakily curses, thrusting his hips to meet your touch once more.

Curiously, your hands wander across his body. Carmy's moans in your ear make your panties wetter than they already are.

You grasp the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off. You're desperate to have him, your cunt aches for him. Your nails scratch down his firm stomach when he bites into your earlobe, softly calling your name.

"Unzip me," you pant, pushing him away and pulling your hair off to the side.

Carmy grabs the small zipper, pushing it down and exposing your pretty skin. As he slides the fabric off of you, he kisses your shoulders and back, taking note of the goosebumps on your skin.

His mind is in the present, and nothing can take it away from him. It's like a switch he managed to turn off in his brain. No more family drama, no more The Bear. It's just you...and him. Honey and Bear.

You stretch your neck to the side, giving Carmy more space to pepper kisses across the delicate skin. The dress pooling at your feet exposes your chest, and Carmy's hands come up from behind you. His fingers shyly brush up your stomach, tickling you, until they find your breasts.

He draws a moan from you as he squeezes them in his palms, pushing you back to meet his chest; turning your head to the side, you find his lips.

The kiss breaks when he slides one of his hands into your underwear, dipping his finger to feel your wetness. Your arm reaches back to dig your fist in his curls.

"You're soaked, Honey," he moans, finding your clit to tease it.

"Been waiting for so long, Carmy," you whine as your hips stutter along with the flicks of his wrist.

"I'm sorry. I'm here now," he purrs into your ear.

Carmy can hear the distinct 'shlick, shlick, shlick' of his fingers against your clit. It spurs him on as he slips a finger into you. He can't wait to have his cock inside of you, snug and warm.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you gasp when he prods another finger into your entrance. Hanging onto his arm across your chest, you roll your hips against his fingers.

"I got you," he says, digging his fingers deeper into you and curling them.

Your knees buckle as the tips of his fingers curl and hit your g spot repeatedly. If it weren't for him, you'd be on the floor. With your tummy tensing under the weight of the pleasure, you stutter out, "I'm gonna cum."

Carmy's hand is wet from your juices as he ups the ante. Just as your walls begin to squeeze around his fingers, he pulls them out to circle around your clit.

"Oh, f-fuck!" You squeal, throwing your head back onto his shoulder.

The way your clit softly twitches under the pads of his fingers fucks with Carmy. It makes his cock throb and leak into his jeans.

Untangling from his embrace, you place a breathless kiss on Carmy's lips. His slick digits dig into your hips as he prolongs it.

Blindly, you find the edge of his jeans and unbutton them. If Carmy notices, he doesn't say anything. You want to give him one more reason to stay with you.

He moans into your mouth when you grasp his length through his boxers. He's rock hard as he desperately ruts against your hand.

With your hold still on him, you push him to sit on the bed. Carmy looks up at you lustfully. You plant a single short kiss on his lips before kneeling on the floor between his legs. You leave love bites down his chest while looking up at him through your lashes.

Carmy brushes away any hair that falls on your face, his blue eyes focused solely on you. When you reach the waistband of his pants, you pull them down along with his underwear.

His length pops up from its confines, slapping against his tummy. Its tip is a pretty pink shade, with a thick length and a slight curve to it. You salivate instantly at the sight of it.

Carmy's nervous under you. It's been a long since he's been with someone else, and he's never been the most confident.

"Relax," you say teasingly, kissing around his lower tummy to calm him.

Finally, your hand wraps around his cock, lightly pumping it. Leaving sloppy kisses down his happy trail, you feel Carmy's stomach taut in anticipation.

It's been so fuckin' long.

With your eyes staring into his hungry ones, you kiss the pink head that glistens with pre, teasingly brushing it against your lips. Keeping eye contact, you lick his length from base to tip. You alternate between kissing and licking for a minute, enjoying watching Carmy squirm.

"Fuck, Honey," Carmy throws his head back at your torturous pace.

"Look at me," you sweetly say.

Taking mercy on him, you part your lips to take his length into your warm, wet mouth, bobbing your head to a steady rhythm. Prying one of Carmy's hands from the bedsheets, you place it in your hair, encouraging him to use you.

"Good girl," he moans, fisting your hair to force you to take more of his cock. You let your hands rest on his thighs, feeling the strong muscles underneath.

Carmen observes you with hooded eyes as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him expertly. He's obsessed with how your lips leave behind a tinge of red lipstick on his skin.

"Shit-Fuck me," he yells into the room when you swallow around him.

You want him to cum, but Carmy has other plans. He doesn't think he'll last long if you make him cum now, so after the stunt you pulled, he pulls you off his sensitive cock.

The sight in front of him is erotic as a string of saliva connects you to his cock. The tears lining your eyes and blushed nose add to that pretty picture.

"c'me 'ere," he says, helping you up and kissing you as he leads you back to the bed. He tugs off your wet panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

You lay back on your pillows with Carmy slotted between your legs. It's torture having him so close and yet so far. Now that you've gotten a taste of his cock you need more.

Carmy touches the inside of your thighs, inching his way closer to your cunt. He instantly notices how fuckin' wet you are. You're dripping even more than before.

"Sucking me off, got you this wet, princess?" He asks, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Mhm, Carmy, wish you would've cum in my mouth," you admit, tilting your head up to brush your lips against his.

"You have such a dirty fuckin' mouth," he chuckles darkly.

Where did this side of you come from? You're usually so sweet and delicate. He should've known you would be a freak in bed. To think he almost let this all go.

"Carmen, please."

"Please, what?" Carmen teases, lining his cock against your opening, wetting his cock.

"Fuck me," you moan, kissing his jaw.

"'m gonna fuck you good, princess," he promises, with a shaky nod before he remembers, "Fuck! I-I don't have a condom with me."

"I should have some in my drawer," you mention breathlessly.

Carmy opens the condom in record time but is surprised when you take it from his hands and roll it down his shaft yourself. You just want an excuse to keep touching him.

With your leg hiked up, he aligns himself and slowly pushes in. You both gasp at the sensation. Carmy, for one, is trying to not bust a nut so soon because you're so tight and warm.

Meanwhile, you hold onto Carmy's back as he stretches you out. It's been so long, and your toys aren't nearly as thick as him. You breathily moan in his ear, which he takes as a good sign as he begins thrusting more forcefully and deeper.

Carmy hopes this isn't a dream, and if it is, he hopes he doesn't wake up anytime soon. He has one hand holding onto your thigh and the other holding himself up. His gold chain dangles above you as he picks his head up from its spot on your shoulder. You take the chance to tug on it, returning his attention to your lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good, princess," Carmy groans, squeezing your thigh.

"I love your cock, Carmy," you whine, feeling the drag of his cock on your walls. The pleasure is all-consuming, leaving a fuzzy feeling in your brain.

"You like when I fuck you like this?"

"Yes, yes, yes, keep going."

His hips snap hard against yours, hitting that spot each and every time. His pelvis hitting your clit. He squeezes your thigh, hips, and sides before his hand squeezes your tits, too, playing with your nipples.

Suddenly, he straightens up, pulling you down the bed to have you flushed against his pelvis. He's a sight for sore eyes that forces you to keep your eyes open.

His thrusts are more forceful like this, where he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you towards him with each snap. It makes your tits bounce, hypnotizing him.

Through your lustful gaze, he looks like a marble statue. His chest glimmers under the lowlights of your room as sweat clings to him, his chain jumping against the blushed skin of his chest, and his fucking hair falling over his pretty eyes. The set of his jaw could've been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself.

Your hands indulgently reach down to touch him in any way you can. You can only reach his stomach, where a nice pair of abs appear due to the effort.

"You like what you see?" Carmy teases. He's entirely lost on you because otherwise, he wouldn't be as cocky to say that.

"You're so handsome," you pitifully say. Your brain not computing as it should, but how can it when it's being fucked out of you?

Carmy doesn't know how to respond. It's not often he's called handsome or looked at as lustfully as you're looking at him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to say much as your eyes roll back and you squeeze your walls around him.

"Carmy, I'm so close," you pant, trying to find any part of him to hold. He offers you his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"Just a little longer, princess," Carmy groans as you clench around him. "Fuck, don't do that to me."

He glances down at the spot where you and him meet to see a ring of white on the base of his cock. He's enthralled with the way you stretch to accommodate him and the way your pink walls drag along his length when he pulls out. Fuckin' beautiful.

Putting all his knowledge to use, he thumbs your clit, making you jolt. He needs you to cum now, or he won't make it. His balls feel like they're about to burst.

"Carmy," you cry out, tightening the hold on his hand.

You teeter on the edge for only a second until you cum, waves of pleasure washing over you. Carmy curses from above you as your tightening walls choke his cock, making him cum too. He stutters his hips a couple more times, riding out his orgasm.

He leans back down again, catching your lips in a small kiss. His body slowly relaxes against yours as his head rests on your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and perfume.

"That was good," you breathe heavily, rubbing your hands up and down your back. You're just starting to think clearly.

"Fuckin' amazing," he adds.

There's a beat of silence before you both burst out laughing.

A bubble encases you, and it can't be popped as long as you stay in your bedroom. Carmy doesn't want to leave; it's late already, and in a couple of hours, he has to get up and go to The Bear to repeat the process.

For once, he forgets about that and focuses solely on you. He has a couple of hours to spare. Sleep is overrated.

You face each other on the bed, talking in hushed whispers. Your fingers trace the '773' tattoo on his bicep like you've always wanted to do. It tickles Carmy, so he grabs your hand and kisses your palm.

"Now that I'm thinking about it. I didn't see your tattoo," he whispers to prevent disturbing the peace.

Your face warms at his words. You had forgotten about that. He's seen a lot of you in the past couple of hours. What's a bit more of skin?

"You missed my big bad tattoo?" you joke, poking his nose.

"Show me," he says with a lopsided smile.

You make it dramatic, rolling your eyes and giving him a big sigh. Sitting up on the bed, you peel the bed sheets from your body. Carmy props himself up on his elbow in anticipation.

Right there, on your left side and under the curve of your breast is a small outline of Winnie the Pooh's face. Carmy touches it, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. Unsurprisingly, it's precisely what he expected from you.

A few chuckles pass his lips as he pulls you back into his arms.

"Don't laugh. It made sense at the time," you whine, covering yourself back up.

Carmy pulls you to his chest, kissing your temple, "I'm sure it does. Pooh Bear loves his Honey," Just like he does.

"Exactly! Someone gets it!"

And he does because Carmy, aka The Bear, is quickly falling for his Honey.

A couple of days later, Carmy is back at your house helping you prepare the famous pizza you promised him. He lets you take the lead on everything, preferring to follow your instructions rather than let his mind run wild. It's not like you'll let him do most of the work anyway; it's your recipe, and you're protective over it.

"Can you chop up the veggies?" You ask him as you lay down the dough in a pan.

"Yes, Chef," he nods, kissing your cheek as he digs through your kitchen drawers for a knife.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," you muse, shaking your shoulders as you knead the dough to spread it.

"Don't let it get to your head, Hun," Carmy smiles, slicing the vegetables expertly.

Cooking with Carmy is surprisingly easier than you thought. He's not controlling over the kitchen or judgy. He lets you do your thing in peace, following your orders no matter how strange they might be. This is your kitchen, not his.

As you spread the sauce and cheese over one of the doughs, Carmy gets a call. He wipes his hands with a rag and picks it up. You only hear his side of the conversation.

"No, I'm off tonight. I'm with my girl. Call Sugar. She should be able to help you with that. Great. Thanks."

Carmy had promised himself that he would try to balance it all better. He has his team to help each other out. The Bear is a priority, but so are you because you help him keep whatever sanity he has left.

Carmy hangs up, and when he returns to you, he notices the grin on your lips as you put the toppings he chopped on the pizza.

"What's with the smile?" Carmy stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he props his head on your shoulder. Your hair tickles his nose, smelling the notes of coconut of your shampoo he digs his head farther into it.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, the smile still present on your face. He'd missed your initial reaction when you heard him call you 'my girl.' You almost dropped the container of pepperoni that was in your hands. It's a shock cause he never asked you to be his girl.

Carmy pauses and tenses up against you. "Uh, yes? Hold up. Turn around," he orders, as he places his hand on your hips to turn your body around.

"Yes, chef," you respond cheekily, your arms around his neck, careful not to touch his sweater with your messy hands.

"Aren't you my girl?" He frowns, rubbing a thumb over your hips.

"I could be, but I don't remember you asking," you pretend to think.

Carmy never directly asked you to be his girlfriend, and you never asked him to be your boyfriend. You might as well be a couple since you've been dating long enough. You decide to seize the opportunity now to get it out of him. Having a proper anniversary day would be nice because you hope this lasts.

"I see, my mistake," Carmy nods, catching your vibe, "Honey…"

"Yes, Carmy?" You blink innocently at him.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?" He finally asks.

You could joke around but decided against it cause the moment is perfect, "I'd love to," you nod, giving him a small kiss.

When the pizza is cooked, you bring it over to the dining table. Serving Carmy a pretty slice. Excitedly, you wait for him to bite into it and taste it.

"What do you think?" You ask expectantly.

"You were right. Best pizza in Chicago," Carmy agrees with an unbelievable laugh. He's got a lot to learn from you. It's the truth, or maybe he's blinded by his feelings. Only time will tell where you and Carmy will end up.

The End?

thank you guys for pulling through and reading! i know it's a slow burn but i hope you liked it! i certainly enjoyed writing it even though it took me like 4 months.

if you liked it, i would appreciate you liking it, commenting or reblogging. if you have some feedback feel free to send it my way too. i wanna get better at this whole writing thing!

thank you! bye xx

[lonniemachin]

I was asked to help share Maram's fundraiser. She is a young displaced Palestinian mother urgently raising money to evacuate she and her family from Gaza. She has only raised €225 out of her €30,000 goal so far! Please share and donate, and if you can't donate, please still share!

From Maram's GFM:

‏Hi, my name is Maram. I am 28 years old. I am a Palestinian from Gaza City.A mother for 3 kids. This is my husband, Ahmed, and my children are Habiba, four years old, kareem, two years old, and Mohammad, nine months old. ‏My family and I went through very difficult circumstances in Gaza after October 7th ‏

It’s painful to say that we lost everything. But yes

we did! We lost our beautiful homeland with all its memories, we lost our job, we lost our lives and our dreams. We evacuated our house with only a small bag of clothes before it was bombed and destroyed. So technically YES we have lost EVERYTHING, from the biggest to the smallest little detail.

We have been displaced 6 times. My children left our home for the first time and moved to another home, and then we moved with the family to another, less safe home. Then the army ordered us to flee to southern Gaza, so we fled to the ground, then we ended up fleeing to a small tent and sleeping on the sand. ‏

My family suffers from a lack of food, especially ‏the children. My child, Mohammed, who is 9 months old, ran out of breast milk due to malnutrition, and the price of infant formula has doubled. Kareem and Habiba saw the simplest thing that could be available to children, which is apples, so they screamed and cried, wanting an apple, but the price of one apple reached 10 dollars or more!! ‏In addition, there was also a lack of healthy drinking water, which caused them severe stomach pain and diseases such as hepatitis A.

‏Due to the conditions imposed by the occupation, the siege, and the lack of resources, it has become difficult for my family to provide the children with basic and simple needs, such as diapers. It is difficult to provide all the needs, and due to the poor quality of the types of diapers available, my children suffered from a skin problem ‏ My family also suffers from not having a bathroom or even a shower. We can only shower once a month using a bucket due to lack of water. There is no electricity or gas either. ‏Every morning, I wash my children's clothes in cold water and spread the clothes out in the open air. If there is food, it is cooked on firewood, which is completely unhealthy and tastes bad. Me and my husband shared a beautiful life together. Our home was always filled with love and laughter. My children are the most precious thing I have in my life. ‏ Our lives were once full of dreams and hopes, but the never-ending cycle of conflict in Gaza shattered those dreams. Now our only goal is to survive. ‏ While others dream of the future, we long for the past, remembering the life we once lived before the horrors of war tore it apart.

‏I have hesitated to ask for financial assistance for several months, but the reality is that life in Gaza has become impossible in the near future. With schools destroyed and opportunities disappearing, our only chance for a better life lies beyond these borders. ‏ My only hope is to save my little family and we need €30,000 to make it out of Gaza, to start a new life from scratch. It is very difficult to leave homeland, but we are forced To get out of Gaza. Your kindness can make a big difference to us. Your donation, no matter how small, will help us escape the constant fear and uncertainty that has plagued our lives for so long. If you're not able to donate, simply sharing our campaign with your friends, family and social networks can also have a huge impact. ‏Together, we can give my children the opportunity to grow up in a world free of the horrors of war. Your kindness will help us build a brighter future and restore hope to a family that has endured so much suffering. ‏ Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your sympathy and support! Your contributions will not only change our lives, but will also provide hope to countless people affected by similar circumstances.

[tomriddleslove]

The devil can be beautiful.

✩Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader (Part 1)

SLOWBURN SERIES

Summary: The one where you have it all planned. There’s not a single thing you haven’t sorted, you’re practically untouchable in how perfect you are. He wants to destroy you, and he always gets what he wants. Alternatively: A bet is placed on whether Mattheo can ruin you. It’s not as easy as he thinks.

A/N: Imo a bit more accurate Mattheo here? He’s fucking toxic and they’re all horrible. This is a series!

Nietzche famously rejected connotations of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. They were nought but social constructs - ways to enforce power and authority under arbitrary values. Rather, he believed ‘good’ was relative, as was ‘bad’. If an action or doing promoted life, or power, then it was ‘good’. If an action promoted weakness, and conformity, then it was ‘bad’.

You weren’t religious, but you prayed to the heavens above that Nietzche was right because fuck.

Wrong has never felt so right.

‘Pl- plea-” You gasp, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you tilt your head back. His lips attach to the tender skin of your neck, nipping and biting at the delicate skin with no regard. He was ravenous, and you tasted like ambrosia, something too sweet for him. You had never felt so alive, feeling as though you were numb yet also like every nerve end was on fire.

Ravenous lips meet pure, untouched flesh. Iconoclastic in nature, the idea of corrupting such a sweet thing was enough to send the boy into a haze.

What was the saying? A wolf in sheep's clothing? Someone who seemed so unlikely, so deceptive. You couldn’t even fall back on that as an excuse. No, Mattheo Riddle was the devil himself, presenting himself to you with red horns and a fucking pitchfork in his hand and you stupidly let him sink his fangs into you.

He was beyond tainting you, no.

Mattheo Riddle was destroying you, and you could only let him.

- • -

Proper and prim.

If you had asked anyone to describe you in two words, you were sure those were the ones they would choose.

Proper and prim.

You were near perfect. Hell, if perfection existed you would be the image of it. From your neatly ironed robe to your polished shoes. Not a single thing was out of place. You embodied routine, and order.

Hair brushed back into a simple plait. School uniform modest, your tie neatly tucked underneath your grey school jumper. You had not produced a single piece of work that scored below 100%, from apparition to flying, you simply never did bad.

“Merlin, it must be depressing,” Theodore murmurs as he watches you walk through the Slytherin common room, up to the girls' dorms.

“Who?” Blaise quips as Pansy rolls her eyes, the distaste evident in her voice as she speaks.

“Who else but her? Miss Prissy Goody-Two shoes.” Pansy drawls, redirecting the group's attention to your retreating form.

Theodore reaches into his pocket, rolling a cigarette between two fingers as he speaks.“Did you know she scored 100% on all her OWLS?”

“Of fuking course she did. All she does is bury her nose in books. No wonder she’s always alone.” Draco mocks and Lorenzo snorts.

“She’s a bit of a weirdo” Lorenzo comments and Theodore barges in, a sleazy grin on his face as he raises a brow.

“You know what they say about the quiet ones right? Always the freakiest.”

Pansy dissolves into laughter, clutching her stomach as she speaks through giggles.

“Her? She’s an absolute prude! You should have seen her when she had to work with Pucey during potions. She couldn't even look in his direction. It's pathetic if you ask me.” She taunts.

Mattheo stares off into the fireplace, legs spread lazily as he reclines back onto the sofa. He had no interest in this conversation, really. Not for the reasons one would think, though. It’s not that he secretly cared for you or something, no it was far from that. He agreed that you were rather weird, too perfect and normal to be likeable. Rather he didn't have the energy to engage in such trivial matters.

“You should go ask her out on a date or something Theo. Don’t you like the nerdy girls?” Lorenzo teases as Theodore scoffs, propping his feet up on the table in front of him.

“Absolutely not, She’ll probably perform some kind of fucking blood curse on me.” He mutters as Draco raises a brow.

“How about this? If you manage to fuck her, I’ll give you 100 Galleons.” He proposes. Lorenzo nearly spits out his water as Pansy shakes her head.

Mattheo snaps out of his daze, looking up at Draco with mild curiosity.

“100 Galleons? Are you fucking insane?” Lorenzo blurts, looking at the platinum-haired boy in disbelief.

“Oh come on. It's a guaranteed win for Draco. It’s near impossible for anyone to do that.” Pansy adds.

“I’ll do it.”

It's his first contribution to the conversation and they all turn to look at him. Theodore raises a brow, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as Pansy leans forward.

“Oh? And what makes you think you can?” She taunts.

“Look at her. Teacher’s pet, an absolute loner. Always reading. It’s so predictable. She probably has wet dreams about some bad boy coming to sweep her off her feet. It’s almost too easy.” He says, cracking his neck with a small groan as he sits up.

He could really do with the money. 100 Galleons could buy him at least 3 weeks in the shabby little inn he frequented over the school holidays.

Draco eyed him curiously, before extending his slim pale hand out.

“Agreed. 100 galleons if you manage to fuck her within a month.” Draco repeats, and Mattheo takes the offer.

His calloused palms meet Draco’s, and he shakes on it with a resolute nod, before leaning back in his chair.

1 month? What a joke. He only needed 2 weeks.

-•-

It had been two days after that conversation and Mattheo had been observing you closely, waiting for the right opportunity to crop up. In the meantime, he dissects everything about you. Theodore was right, you were so undeniably boring and monotonous Mattheo had to pause and wonder if you were a sadist of sorts, finding pleasure in such mind-numbing perfection.

It was the same damned thing every single day. You would turn up for breakfast at 8:00, and fix yourself a plate of porridge topped with a handful of blueberries. You’d eat as you read the newspaper, and finish by 8:15. You’d rise, put your bowl away, and head to your first class. You ate lunch during the first half, the same sandwich and apple every day. After lessons, you’d go up to the library. You’d take the furthest seat on the second floor, between the muggle studies and world history books. You would revise for 3 hours, close your books, and head back up to your dorm. You would then re-emerge no longer than 20 minutes later (still dressed in your school uniform) and head down to dinner. You always ate whatever was offered, had a single mug of peppermint tea, and then headed back up to your dorm before it was even 10.

Every. Single. Day.

Mattheo could not comprehend how on earth someone could live like that. Surely you had to be some sort of psychopath, right? There was no way you could find peace and comfort in such a routine. Sure, Mattheo certainly did not feel content, but he’s as sure as the sky is blue that he’d go insane if he lived like you.

Maybe you had some sort of secret? Perhaps you escaped the castle grounds at night to smoke or do some hardcore drugs. Maybe you were some sort of recluse who believed they were some sort of divine being. Your meticulously structured routine, your unwavering discipline—it all seemed too calculated, too perfect. There had to be something lurking beneath the surface, something that explained your seemingly robotic adherence to the same monotonous pattern day after day.

The countless possibilities run through Mattheos mind as he rests his chin on his hand, zoned out as he sits at the back of the astronomy class. Professor Sinastra drones on about Lunar phases and their implications on a wizard’s abilities. Mattheo gazes off at you, who (as per usual) sits right at the front of the class. Your posture is impeccably straight, and you jot down every word Sinastra speaks as though she’s teaching the class how to become a millionaire instantly.

“... And for that reason, I would like two volunteers to come work alongside myself on a month-long project locating rogue planets in the atmosphere. Not only will this be an exciting and unique opportunity, it’ll also put you in incredibly good standing for your upcoming NEWT exams, which may I remind you are in only a few months. The study will largely commence in the evenings, however, there will be a few instances where you will be required to complete monitoring throughout the whole day. You will be excused from lessons on those days, rest assured.” She says.

Mattheo straightens up in his chair as he sees your hand shoot up almost immediately. In any other instance, your enthusiasm would be infuriating at the very least, earning you a snarky remark. But now? Well, it was clear the universe was giving him a sign.

Taking advantage of everyone else's hesitancy, Mattheo raises his hand. A few murmurs ripple through the class, and Professor Sinastra cannot hide her surprise as she nods at Mattheo.

“I must say, I am glad to see you volunteering Mr Riddle.” She says, and Mattheo nods.

He can’t make it too obvious, though. He usually wouldn't be caught dead volunteering for such a thing.

“Getting to skip classes and being permitted to roam around at night? No brainer.” He says, not so subtly to Blaise. Granted, Blaise knows Mattheo’s true intentions, but the statement seems to satisfy the rest of their class, who turn back to their work whilst muttering about how it was a rather good offer.

Mattheo looks over to you, only to find you turned around in your seat, observing him for a second. Your eyes squint, an almost imperceptible change, before you quickly avert your gaze and turn back around.

“You might actually have this one.” Blaise murmurs, leaning closer to Mattheo. He can’t help but smile, an almost arrogant smirk, as he nods.

Looking at the way you diligently return to your work, Mattheo’s indifference suddenly morphs into determination.

This was too easy.

-•-

Mattheo saunters up the stairs to the astronomy tower, the faint moonlight just barely illuminating the path in front of him. As he pushes open the door to the tower, he sees you perched by the telescope. You're still in your school uniform, looking pristine as you sit on the floor, scribbling notes down in your book. You look up at the intrusion, clearing your throat when you see Mattheo. In the dim moonlight, Mattheo can see your face turn slightly red as you swiftly avert your gaze down to the floor.

“Riddle.” You greet, quietly. He hums in acknowledgement, setting his bag down to the side as he slumps against the wall, leaning back.

“Professor um- Professor Sinastra has asked us to just observe the sky and try to make predictions for when we can sight a rogue planet. I’m mapping the movement of the planets but she said you should try to calculate angles of visibility.” You murmur, voice quiet and hesitant.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as he looks over at you. "Angles of visibility, huh?" he muses, pushing himself off the wall and saunters over to where you're seated. "Sounds like a job for someone with a keen eye for detail."

You glance up at him, your expression guarded as you nod in agreement. "Yes, exactly. It's crucial to accurately calculate the angles to ensure our observations are precise."

He laughs, but it's not genuine. No, rather it's almost mocking.

“What makes you think I’m doing any of that, hmm? This is just an excuse for me to skip classes. How this is actually going to work, is that you’re going to do all the work, and let me slap my name on the parts I was meant to do, yeah?” he says, his tone oozing with faux sincerity.

You look up at him, a glimpse of surprise flashing in your eyes.

There we go. Wasn’t so hard to get a reaction out of you, wasn’t it? Mattheo thinks to himself, raising a brow. This would be simple enough. You’d fight back, and after a bit, he’d reluctantly agree. He’d begin to feign actual interest and before you knew it he’d be walking away with 100 galleons added to his name.

But instead of fighting, you nod and look back down at your book.

“Ok.” You murmur.

Mattheo's smirk falters for just a moment as he processes your response. He hadn't expected you to simply agree, to comply without so much as a hint of resistance. It throws him off balance, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“What? You’re not going to disagree? Or go snake on me to Professor Sinastra?” His voice comes out more incredulous than he intended, a mixture of surprise and confusion evident in his tone.

You glance up at him, your expression unreadable. "It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?" you reply calmly, your voice devoid of any trace of emotion.

Mattheo's mind races, trying to make sense of your reaction. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to push back, to challenge him, to give him something to work with. But instead, you're just... accepting it.

A flicker of annoyance flares within him, quickly followed by a surge of frustration. This wasn't what he had planned, wasn't how it was supposed to play out. He wanted a challenge, not this... this acquiescence.

He eyes you with a small frown, before turning on his heel and walking out. He’s both frustrated and confused, pondering your words as he makes his way back to the Slytherin common room. Were you really that pathetic? Did you actually have no backbone?

He walks back into the relatively empty common room, spotting the whole group in their usual spot. He goes over to them, tossing his bag to the side as he plops down onto the sofa with a sigh. Pansy eyes him with amusement as she speaks.

“So how was your first evening with our perfect student? Did you woo her under the stars?” Pansy teases as Mattheo fishes around in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Serenade her with a poem?”Theodore joins in, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Merlin, I knew she was a stick-up but to be that much of a push-over? She’s so mind-numbingly fucking boring it's actually insane.” Mattheo starts, lighting the cigarette as he takes a deep drag.

“I mean, I told her that she had to do all the work and give me the credit, and she just said ok! No fighting back, not even a look of annoyance. She just looked down and said Ok,” He exclaims, still rather baffled as he smokes his cigarette.

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sly smirk. "Well, isn't that just precious," he taunts, the hint of mockery in his tone unmistakable. "Our little goody-two-shoes just rolling over and playing dead at the first sign of trouble."

Mattheo scowls, taking another drag from his cigarette as he mulls over their words. It's frustrating, infuriating even, to think that you would just acquiesce without so much as a fight. He had been expecting resistance but instead, he's met with nothing but compliance, and it grates on his nerves in a way he can't quite explain.

"Well, whatever," Mattheo mutters, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he leans back against the sofa.

Just as he goes to speak, his eyes are drawn to the entrance of the common room. The group falls silent at your arrival. You walk through the common room, not even glancing in their direction as you clutch your school bag tightly, heading back up to your dorm.

‘Like you have your tail between your legs’ Mattheo thinks, observing your retreating form.

“Maybe it turned her on?” Theodore proposes. Draco groans, setting down his mug as he rolls his eyes.

“That's disgusting. I do not need to be thinking about that,” He complains.

“You’re the weirdo who proposed the bet anyway!” Theodore quips back, and they soon fall into a silly argument.

It’s all background noise for Mattheo, who can't seem to stop thinking about you. There was no chance you were simply so easily swayed, so complacent. No, there had to be more to it.

Mattheo was a Slytherin through and through. Cunning, resourceful, and ambitious. And if he wanted something, he would always get it. Mattheo would win this bet, and if not for the 100 galleons, it would be to unravel and destroy you, for he saw in your innocence a challenge — a spotless canvas begging for the brushstrokes of corruption, a pure soul ripe for the taint of himself. Even the most virtuous are not spared, and in his eyes, your fall would be his ultimate triumph.

@schaebickel @multifandom-worlds @mildlyuninformative @lillywildly @gillyweeds @anti-hero03

[dresshistorynerd]

The Real Cost of the Fashion Industry

Atacama Desert, in Alto Hospicio, Iquique, Chile. (source)

The textile industry is destroying the world. The industry is wasting massive amounts of energy and materials, and polluting the air, the ground and the water supplies. It overwhelmingly exploits it's labour and extracts wealth from colonized countries, especially in Asia. I assume we all broadly understand this, but I think it's useful to have it all laid out in front of you to see the big picture, the core issues causing this destruction and find ways how to effectively move forward.

The concerning trend behind this ever-increasing devastation are shortening of trend cycles, lowering clothing prices and massive amount of wasted products. Still in year 2000 it was common for fashion brands to have two collections per year, while now e.g. Zara produces 24 collections and H&M produces 12-16 collections per year. Clothing prices have fallen (at leas in EU) 30% from 1996 to 2018 when adjusted to inflation, which has contributed to the 40% increase in clothing consumption per person between 1996 and 2012 (in EU). (source) As the revenue made by the clothing industry keep rising - from 2017 to 2021 they doubled (source) - falling prices can only be achieved with increasing worker exploitation and decreasing quality. I think the 36% degrees times clothing are used in average during the last 15 years (source) is a clear indication on the continuing drop in quality of clothing. Clothing production doubled between 2000 and 2015, while 30% of the clothes produced per year are never sold and are often burned instead (source), presumably to prevent the returns from falling due to oversupply.

These all factors are driving people to overconsume. While people in EU keep buying more clothes, they haven't used up to 50% of the clothes in their wardrobe for over a year (source). This overconsumption is only made much worse by the new type of hyper fast fashion companies like SHEIN and Temu, which are using addictive psychological tactics developed by social media companies (source 1, source 2). They are cranking up all those concerning trends I mentioned above.

Under the cut I will go through the statistics of the most significant effects of the industry on environment and people. I will warn you it will be bleak. This is not just a fast fashion problem, basically the whole industry is engaging in destructive practices leading to this damage. Clothing is one of those things that would be actually relatively easy to make without massive environmental and human cost, so while that makes the current state of the industry even more heinous, it also means there's hope and it's possible to fix things. In the end, I will be giving some suggestions for actions we could be doing right now to unfuck this mess.

Carbon emissions

The textile industry is responsible for roughly 10% of the global CO2 emissions, more than aviation and shipping industry combined. This is due to the massive supply chains and energy intensive production methods of fabrics. Most of it can be contributed to the fashion sector since around 60% of all the textile production is clothing. Polyester, a synthetic fiber made from oil which accounts for more than half of the fibers used in the textile industry, produces double the amount of carbon emissions than cotton, accounting for very large proportions of all the emissions by the industry. (source 1, source 2)

Worker exploitation

Majority of the textiles are produced in Asia. Some of the worst working conditions are in Bangladesh, one of the most important garment producers, and Pakistan. Here's an excerpt from EU Parliament's briefing document from 2014 after the catastrophic Rana Plaza disaster:

The customers of garment producers are most often global brands looking for low prices and tight production timeframes. They also make changes to product design, product volume, and production timeframes, and place last-minute orders without accepting increased costs or adjustments to delivery dates. The stresses of such policies usually fall on factory workers.

The wage exploitation is bleak. According to the 2015 documentary The True Cost less than 2% of all garment factory workers earned a living wage (source). Hourly wages are so low and the daily quotas so high, garment workers are often forced through conditions or threats and demand to work extra hours, which regularly leads to 10-12 hour work days (source) and at worst 16 hour workdays (source), often without days off. Sometimes factories won't compensate for extra hours, breaching regulations (source).

Long working hours, repetitive work, lack of breaks and high pressure leads to increased risks of injuries and accidents. Small and even major injuries are extremely common in the industry. A study in three factories in India found that 70% of the workers suffered from musculosceletal symptoms (source). Another qualitative study of female garment workers and factory doctors in Dhaka found that long hours led to eye strain, headaches, fatigue and weight loss in addition to muscular and back pains. According to the doctors interviewed, weight loss was common because the workers work such long hours without breaks, they didn't have enough time to eat properly. (source) Another study in 8 factories in India found that minor injuries were extremely common and caused by unergonomic work stations, poor organization in the work place and lack of safety gear, guidelines and training (source). Safety precautions too are often overlooked to cut corners, which periodically leads to factory accidents, like in 2023 lack of fire exists and fire extinguishers, and goods stacked beyond capacity led to a factory fire in Pakistan which injured dozens of workers (source) or like in 2022 dangerous factory site led to one dead worker and 9 injured workers (source).

Rana Plaza collapse in 2013 is the worst industrial accident in recent history. The factory building did not have proper permits and the factory owner blatantly ignored signs of danger (other businesses abandoned the building a day before the collapse), which led to deaths of 1 134 workers and injuries to 2 500 workers. The factory had or were at the time working for orders of at least Prada, Versace, Primark, Walmart, Zara, H&M, C&A, Mango, Benetton, the Children's Place, El Corte Inglés, Joe Fresh, Carrefour, Auchan, KiK, Loblaw, Bonmarche and Matalan. None of the brands were held legally accountable for the unsafe working conditions which they profited off of. Only 9 of the brands attended a meeting to agree on compensation for the victim's families. Walmart, Carrefour, Auchan, Mango and KiK refused to sight the agreement, it was only signed by Primark, Loblaw, Bonmarche and El Corte Ingles. The compension these companies provided was laughable though. Primemark demanded DNA evidence that they are relatives of one of the victims from these struggling families who had lost their often sole breadwinner for a meager sum of 200 USD (which doesn't even count for two months of living wage in Bangladesh (source)). This obviously proved to be extremely difficult for most families even though US government agreed to donate DNA kits. This is often said to be a turning point in working conditions in the industry, at least in Bangladesh, but while there's more oversight now, as we have seen, there's clearly still massive issues. (source 1, source 2)

One last major concern of working conditions in the industry I will mention is the Xinjiang raw cotton production, which is likely produced mainly with forced labour from Uighur concentration camps, aka slave labour of a suspected genocide. 90% of China's raw cotton production comes from Xinjiang (source). China is the second largest cotton producer in the world, after India, accounting 20% of the yearly global cotton production (source).

Pollution

Synthetic dyes, which synthetic fibers require, are the main cause of water pollution caused by the textile industry, which is estimated to account for 20% of global clean water pollution (source). This water pollution by the textile industry is suspected of causing a lot of health issues like digestive issues in the short term, and allergies, dermatitis, skin inflammation, tumors and human mutations in the long term. Toxins also effect fish and aquatic bacteria. Azo dyes, one of the major pollutants, can cause detrimental effects to aquatic ecosystems by decreasing photosynthetic activity of algae. Synthetic dyes and heavy metals also cause large amounts of soil pollution. Large amounts of heavy metals in soil, which occurs around factories that don't take proper environmental procautions, can cause anaemia, kidney failure, and cortical edoem in humans. That also causes changes in soil texture, decrease in soil microbial diversity and plant health, and changes in genetic structure of organisms growing in the soil. Textile factory waste water has been used for irrigation in Turkey, where other sources of water have been lacking, causing significant damage to the soil. (source)

Rayon produced through viscose process causes significant carbon disulphide and hydrogen sulphide pollution to the environment. CS2 causes cardiovascular, psychiatric, neuropsychological, endocrinal and reproductive disorders. Abortion rates among workers and their partners exposed to CS2 are reported to be significantly higher than in control groups. Many times higher amounts of sick days are reported for workers in spinning rooms of viscose fiber factories. China and India are largest producers of CS2 pollution, accounting respectively 65.74% and 11,11% of the global pollution, since they are also the major viscose producers. Emission of CS2 has increased significantly in India from 26.8 Gg in 2001 to 78.32 Gg in 2020. (source)

Waste

The textile industry is estimated to produce around 92 million tons of textile waste per year. As said before around 30% of the production is never sold and with shortening lifespans used the amount of used clothing that goes to waster is only increasing. This waste is large burned or thrown into landfills in poor countries. (source) H&M was accused in 2017 by investigative journalists of burning up to 12 tonnes of clothes per year themselves, including usable clothing, which they denied claiming they donated clothing they couldn't sell to charity instead (source). Most of the clothing donated to charity though is burned or dumbed to landfills (source).

Most of the waste clothing from rich countries like European countries, US, Australia and Canada are shipped to Chile (source) or African countries, mostly Ghana, but also Burkina Faso and Côte d'Ivoire (source). There's major second-hand fashion industries in these places, but most of the charity clothing is dumbed to landfills, because they are in such bad condition or the quality is too poor. Burning and filling landfills with synthetic fabrics with synthetic dyes causes major air, water and soil pollution. The second-hand clothing industry also suppresses any local clothing production as donated clothing is inherently more competitive than anything else, making these places economically reliant on dumbed clothing, which is destroying their environment and health, and prevents them from creating a more sustainable economy that would befit them more locally. This is not an accident, but required part of the clothing industry. Overproduction let's these companies tap on every new trend quickly, while not letting clothing the prices in rich countries drop so low it would hurt their profits. Production is cheaper than missing a trend.

Micro- and nanoplastics

There is massive amounts of micro- and nanoplastics in all of our environment. It's in our food, drinking water, even sea salt (source). Washing synthetic textiles accounts for roughly 35% of all microplastics released to the environment. It's estimated that it has caused 14 million tonnes of microplastics to accumulate into the bottom of the ocean. (source)

Microplastics build up into the intestines of animals (including humans), and have shown to probably cause cause DNA damage and altered organism behavior in aquatic fauna. Microplastics also contain a lot of the usual pollutants from textile industry like synthetic dyes and heavy metals, which absorb in higher quantities to tissues of animals through microplastics in the intestines. Studies have shown that the adverse effect are higher the longer the microplastics stay in the organism. The effects cause major risks to aquatic biodiversity. (source) The health effects of microplastics to humans are not well known, but studies have shown that they could have adverse effects on digestive, respiratory, endocrine, reproductive and immune systems. (source)

Microplastics degrade in the environment even further to nanoplastics. Nanoplastic being even smaller are found to enter blood circulation, get inside cells and cross the blood-brain barrier. In fishes they have been found to cause neurological damage. Nanoplastics are also in the air, and humans frequently breath them in. Study in office buildings found higher concentration of nanoplastics in indoor air than outdoor air. Inside the nanoplastics are likely caused mostly by synthetic household textiles, and outdoors mostly by car tires. (source) An association between nanoplastics and mitochondrial damage in human respiratory cells was found in a recent study. (source)

Micro and nano plastics are also extremely hard to remove from the environment, making it even more important that we reduce the amount of microplastics we produce as fast as possible.

What can we do?

This is a question that deserves it's own essays and articles written about it, but I will leave you with some action points. Reading about these very bleak realities can easily lead to overwhelming apathy, but we need to channel these horrors into actions. Whatever you do, do not fall into apathy. We don't have the luxury for that, we need to act. These are industry wide problems, that simply cannot be fixed by consumerism. Do not trust any clothing companies, even those who market themselves as ethical and responsible, always assume they are lying. Most of them are, even the so called "good ones". We need legislation. We cannot allow the industry to regulate itself, they will always take the easy way out and lie to their graves. I will for sure write more in dept about what we can do, but for now here's some actions to take, both political and individual ones.

Political actions

Let's start with political actions, since they will be the much more important ones. While we are trying to dismantle capitalism and neocolonialism (the roots of these issues), here's some things that we could do right now. These will be policies that we should be doing everywhere in the world, but especially rich countries, where most of the clothing consumption is taking place. Vote, speak to others, write to your representative, write opinion pieces to your local papers, engage with democracy.

Higher requirements of transparency. Right now product transparency in clothing is laughably low. In EU only the material make up and the origin country of the final product are required to be disclosed. Everything else is up to the company. Mandatory transparency is the only way we can force any positive changes in the production. The minimum of transparency should be: origin countries of the fibers and textiles in the product itself; mandatory reports of the lifecycle emissions; mandatory reports of whole chain of production. Right now the clothing companies make their chain of production intentionally complex, so they have plausible deniability when inevitably they are caught violating environmental or worker protection laws (source). They intentionally don't want to be able to track down their production chain. Forcing them to do so anyway would make it very expensive for them to keep up this unnecessarily complex production chain. These laws are most effective when put in place in large economies like EU or US.

Restrictions on the use of synthetic fibers. Honestly I think they should be banned entirely, since the amount of microplastics in our environment is already extremely distressing and the other environmental effects of synthetic fibers are also massive, but I know there are functions for which they are not easily replaced (though I think they can be replaces in those too, but that's a subject of another post), so we should start with restrictions. I'm not sure how they should be specifically made, I'm not a law expert, but they shouldn't be used in everyday textiles, where there are very easy and obvious other options.

Banning viscose. There are much better options for viscose method that don't cause massive health issues and environmental destruction where ever it's made, like Lyocell. There is absolutely no reason why viscose should be allowed to be sold anywhere.

Governmental support for local production by local businesses. Most of the issues could be much more easily solved and monitored if most clothing were not produced by massive global conglomerations, but rather by local businesses that produce locally. All clothing are made by hand, so centralizing production doesn't even give it advantage in effectiveness (only more profits for the few). Producing locally would make it much more easier to enforce regulations and it would reduce production chains, making production more effective, leaving more profits into the hands of the workers and reducing emissions from transportation. When the production is done by local businesses, the profits would stay in the producing country and they could be taxed and utilized to help the local communities. This would be helpful to do in both exploited and exploiter countries. When done in rich countries who exploit poorer ones, it would reduce the demand for exploitation. In poor countries this is not as easily done, since poor means they don't have money to give around, but maybe this could be a good cause to put some reparations from colonizers and global corporations, which they should pay.

Preventing strategic accounting between subsidiaries and parent companies. Corporate law is obviously not my area of expertise, but I know that allowing corporations to move around the accounting of profits and losses between subsidiaries and parent companies in roughly 1980s, was a major factor in creating this modern global capitalist system, where corporations can very easily manipulate their accounting to utilize tax heavens and avoid taxes where they actually operate, which is how they are upholding this terrible system and extracting the profits from the production countries. How specifically this would be done I can't tell because again I know shit about corporate law, so experts of that field should plan the specifics. Overall this would help deal with a lot of other problems than just the fashion industry. Again for it to be effective a large economic area like EU or US should do this.

Holding companies accountable for their whole chain of production. These companies should be dragged to court and made to answer for the crimes they are profiting of off. We should put fear back into them. This is possible. Victims of child slavery are already doing this for chocolate companies. If it's already not how law works everywhere, the laws should be changed so that the companies are responsible even if they didn't know, because it's their responsibility to find out and make sure they know. They should have been held accountable for the Rana Plaza disaster. Maybe they still could be. Sue the mother fuckers. They should be afraid of us.

Individual actions

I will stress that the previous section is much more important and that there's no need to feel guilty for individual actions. This is not the fault of the average consumer. Still we do need to change our relationship to fashion and consumption. While it's not our fault, one of the ways this system is perpetuated, is by the consumerist propaganda by fashion industry. And it is easier to change our own habits than to change the industry, even if our own habits have little impact. So these are quite easy things we all could do as we are trying to do bigger change to gain some sense of control and keep us from falling to apathy.

Consume less. Better consumption will not save us, since consumption itself is the problem. We consume too much clothing. Don't make impulse purchases. Consider carefully weather you actually need something or if you really really want it. Even only buying second-hand still fuels the industry, so while it's better than buying new, it's still better to not buy.

Take proper care of your clothing. Learn how to properly wash your clothing. There's a lot of internet resources for that. Never wash your wool textiles in washing machine, even if the textile's official instructions allow it. Instead air them regularly, rinse them in cool water if they still smell after airing and wash stains with water or small amount of (wool) detergent. Never use fabric softener! It damages the fabrics, prevents them from properly getting clean and is environmentally damaging. Instead use laundry vinegar for making textiles softer or removing bad smells. (You can easily make laundry vinegar yourself too from white vinegar and water (and essential oils, if you want to add a scent to it) which is much cheaper.) Learn how to take care of your leather products. Most leather can be kept in very good condition for a very long time by occasional waxing with beeswax.

Use the services of dressmakers and shoemakers. Take your broken clothing or clothing which doesn't fit anymore to your local dressmaker and ask them if they can do something about it. Take your broken and worn leather products to your local shoemaker too. Usually it doesn't cost much to get something fixed or refitted and these expert usually have ways to fix things you couldn't even think of. So even if the situation with your clothing or accessory seems desperate, still show it to the dressmaker or shoemaker.

If it's extremely cheap, don't buy it. Remember that every clothing is handmade. Only a small fraction of the cost of the clothing will be paying the wages of the person who made it with their hands. If a shirt costs 5 euros (c. 5,39 USD), it's sewer was only payed mere cents for sewing it. I'm not a quick sewer and it takes me roughly 1-2 hours to cut, prepare and sew a simple shirt, so I'm guessing it would take around half an hour to do all that for a factory worker on a crunch, at the very least 15 minutes. So the hourly pay would still be ridiculously low. However, as I said before, the fact that the workers in clothing factories get criminally low pay is not the fault of the consumer, so if you need a clothing item, and you don't have money to buy anything else than something very cheep, don't feel guilty. And anyway expensive clothing in no way necessarily means reasonable pay or ethical working conditions, cheep clothing just guarantee them.

Learn to recognize higher quality. In addition to exploitation, low price also means low quality, but again high price doesn't guarantee high quality. High quality allows you to buy less, so even if it's not as cheep as low quality, if you can afford it, when you need it, it will be cheaper in long run, and allows you to consume less. Check the materials. Natural fibers are your friends. Do not buy plastic, if it's possible to avoid. Avoid household textiles from synthetic fibers. Avoid textiles with small amounts of spandex to give it stretch, it will shorten the lifespan of the clothing significantly as the spandex quickly wears down and the clothing looses it's shape. Also avoid clothing with rubber bands. They also loose their elasticity very quickly. In some types of clothing (sport wear, underwear) these are basically impossible to avoid, but in many other cases it's entirely possible.

Buy from artisans and local producers, if you can. As said better consumption won't fix this, but supporting artisans and your local producers could help keep them afloat, which in small ways helps create an alternative to the exploitative global corporations. With artisans especially you know the money goes to the one who did the labour and buying locally means less middlemen to take their cut. More generally buy rather from businesses that are located to the same country where the production is, even if it's not local to you. A local business doesn't necessarily produce locally.

Develop your own taste. If you care about fashion and style, it's easy to fall victim to the fashion industry's marketing and trend cycles. That's why I think it's important to develop your personal sense of style and preferences. Pay attention at what type of clothes are comfortable to you. Go through your wardrobe and track for a while which clothing you use most and which least. Understanding your own preferences helps you avoid impulse buying.

Consider learning basics of sewing. Not everyone has the time or interest for this, but if you in anyway might have a bit of both, I suggest learning some very simple and basic mending and reattaching a button.

Further reading on this blog: How to see through the greenwashing propaganda of the fashion industry - Case study 1: Shein

Bibliography

Academic sources

An overview of the contribution of the textiles sector to climate change, 2022, L. F. Walter et al., Frontiers in Environmental Science

How common are aches and pains among garment factory workers? A work-related musculoskeletal disorder assessment study in three factories of south 24 Parganas district, West Bengal, 2021, Arkaprovo Pal et al., J Family Med Prim Care

Sewing shirts with injured fingers and tears: exploring the experience of female garment workers health problems in Bangladesh, 2019, Akhter, S., Rutherford, S. & Chu, C., BMC Int Health Hum Rights

Occupation Related Accidents in Selected Garment Industries in Bangalore City, 2006, Calvin, Sam & Joseph, Bobby, Indian Journal of Community Medicine

A Review on Textile and Clothing Industry Impacts on The Environment, 2022, Nur Farzanah Binti Norarmi et al., International Journal of Academic Research in Business and Social Sciences

Carbon disulphide and hydrogen sulphide emissions from viscose fibre manufacturing industry: A case study in India, 2022, Deepanjan Majumdar et al., Atmospheric Environment: X

Microplastics Pollution: A Brief Review of Its Source and Abundance in Different Aquatic Ecosystems, 2023, Asifa Ashrafy et al., Journal of Hazardous Materials Advances

Health Effects of Microplastic Exposures: Current Issues and Perspectives in South Korea, 2023, Yongjin Lee et al., Yonsei Medical Journal

Nanoplastics and Human Health: Hazard Identification and Biointerface, 2022, Hanpeng Lai, Xing Liu, and Man Qu, Nanomaterials

Other sources

The impact of textile production and waste on the environment (infographics), 2020, EU

Chile’s desert dumping ground for fast fashion leftovers, 2021, AlJazeera

Fashion - Worldwide, 2022 (updated 2024), Statista

Fashion Industry Waste Statistics & Facts 2023, James Evans, Sustainable Ninja (magazine)

Everything You Need to Know About Waste in the Fashion Industry, 2024, Solene Rauturier, Good on You (magazine)

Textiles and the environment, 2022, Nikolina Šajn, European Parliamentary Research Service

Help! I'm addicted to secondhand shopping apps, 2023, Alice Crossley, Cosmopolitan

Addictive, absurdly cheap and controversial: the rise of China’s Temu app, 2023, Helen Davidson, Guardian

Workers' conditions in the textile and clothing sector: just an Asian affair? - Issues at stake after the Rana Plaza tragedy, 2014, Enrico D'Ambrogio, European Parliamentary Research Service

State of The Industry: Lowest Wages to Living Wages, The Lowest Wage Challenge (Industry affiliated campaign)

Fast Fashion Getting Faster: A Look at the Unethical Labor Practices Sustaining a Growing Industry, 2021, Emma Ross, International Law and Policy Brief (George Washington University Law School)

Dozens injured in Pakistan garment factory collapse and fire, 2023, Hannah Abdulla, Just Style (news media)

India: Multiple factory accidents raise concerns over health & safety in the garment industry, campaigners call for freedom of association in factories to ‘stave off’ accidents, 2022, Jasmin Malik Chua, Business & Human Rights Resource Center

Minimum Wage Level for Garment Workers in the World, 2020, Sheng Lu, FASH455 Global Apparel & Textile Trade and Sourcing (University of Delaware)

Rana Plaza collapse, Wikipedia

Buyers’ compensation for Rana Plaza victims far from reality, 2013, Ibrahim Hossain Ovi, Dhaka Tribune (news media)

World cotton production statistics, updated 2024, The World Counts

Dead white man’s clothes, 2021, Linton Besser, ABC News

[astraaa3]

How about some headcanons of Velvette x Female or Genderneutral reader who hates confrontation? Is the type that can't send back food when it's wrong. Someone cut in front of them? What are they gonna do? Tell them not to? Yeah, no. God forbid they're being outright spoken down to. Maybe they yell back at someone in an act of defiance as a form of growth but they're in shock immediately after which is so not the right thing to do with the person still in front of them. Velvette would probably dress reader up however she wants to. What happens if reader tries out saying they want to where something they think is pretty or nice? Okay, this got overly lengthy, but you get the idea?

A/N: This one was such a fun writing experience. I literally couldn't decide which way I wanted it to go. Thank you so much for the ask Anon, hope you enjoy it. <33

Feedback is much appreciated and don't forget to ask. (I need something to get the brain juices flowing)

Velvette x Gn!Reader

In which Reader can't bring themselves to say no to people or to stand up for themselves. (aka the Velvette x Pushover!Reader I never knew I needed)

=========📱=========

Initially, Velvette wrote off your compliance with all of her requests as you wanting to please her. And well, she couldn't complain, she liked pushing people around, and her partner was no exception. That said, her sharp tongue was reserved for her poor models. (you got a free pass most of the time since she didn't want to make you cry)

With time, Velvette realized that this was just how you were. She laughed the first time Vox showed her the footage of you helping an assistant carry boxes, only to end up helping with organizing files for one of Vox's assistants. She laughed even harder when she saw you try to get a word in as some wolf sinner cut in front of you in line. And well, it was kinda funny. Until the same shit happened again and again.

Velvette tried talking some sense into you. "Babe, listen. You can't just let any dimwit trample over you." She sighed as you promised to try to stick up for yourself.

Nothing changed after Velvette's 'pep talk'.

Realizing that you were too much of a soft-hearted pathetic idiot to stick up for yourself, Velvette took it upon herself to keep others from pushing you around.

Someone pushed in front of you in the line? Velvette was there telling that cunt exactly why they didn't deserve to even look in your direction.

You were delivered the wrong food order? Velvette would call the restaurant to make sure they knew how utterly useless they were for not even being able to pack a food order.

After laying it on thick whoever wronged you, she would look at you smirking. In turn, you would smile at her happily before kissing her. It turned into a game after some time.

The one time Velvette saw you raise your voice wasn't even to defend yourself. It was to defend her. The moment you calmed down enough to realize what you just said, you were immediately mortified. Burying your face into your hands, you flushed red from embarrassment as Velvette looked at you with wide eyes. Fuck. It was hot seeing you angry…

=========📱=========

Small prompt time~

You and Velvette were walking towards the Coffee Shop right across the street from the V tower. The two of you were holding hands while Velvette was ranting all about how Valentino absolutely destroyed one of her models just before a show when the domestic vibe was ruined by some drunk assholes who came up to them.

"Hey babe, aren't you that cute little overlord with the social media shit? I'll give you something to make a story on Voxstragram with."

As the sinner said this, he made some explicit gestures with his hips. Gagging in disgust Velvette grabbed your hand to walk away from them, not wanting to ruin the cozy coffee date you had planed. However, as you were walking away, all you could hear was the those sinners mocking laughs. You were so angry. You didn't exactly know what made you snap at them. Was it the crass comments regarding your lover? Was it the fact that Velvette refrained from killing them for your sake? Maybe it was both. But before you knew it, you turned around glaring at them before proceeding to curse them into the next afterlife. Velvette looked at you shocked, not expecting you to snap at those no-names. As you calmed down, you looked at Velvette's shocked expression, before burrying your face in your face mumbling something along the lines of: "Let's not talk about this ever again." Velvette pulled your hands from your face, replacing them with hers. As she cradled your face with her hands she smiled at you excited:

"That. Was. Fucking. Awesome. Babe, you were so hot fucking humiliating those pathetic worms."

The first thing Velvette did when they got back to the V tower was spam her groupchat with Valentino and Vox with messages about how cool you were. But you didn't need to know that. After all, she liked taking care of assholes for you. Satan forbid you actually grow a backbone. She dreaded the day you would actually gain the courage to deny her picking your clothes. (as if she would ever let that happen)

[psychhound]

[ID: a banner for a game. it is light tan with a crumpled paper texture, and reads "with breath & sword" in large blue font, and "a solo-journaling game that helps you fight anxiety as you fight monster" below it in smaller font. there is lineart of gauntlets lying over a sword with some flowers at the bottom. end ID]

You find yourself tied to the monsters. The scratchy feeling in your chest. The way your hands tremble. The sweat that dots your upper lip when your senses are telling you a monster is close, again, now, and it’s your job to fight it. To stand up for your ideals and stand up to the threat. Whether you tame it, or this is truly a monster that needs to be slain, only time will tell.

 You know you will succeed. You always have before. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be a challenge.

 Grab your gear. Put on your boots. You know how to find it. You know what to do.

 First, you just need to steady yourself.

[ID: a page spread from the game. it shows "step four" on one side, which goes over the five aspects of the game's oracle. on the other side it shows the first oracle component, where something you can taste determines what your heroic core is. the page is minimally designed, with a blue border and text on a white background, tan accents, and one image of a dragon. end ID]

With Breath & Sword is a solo-journaling TTRPG to help players combat anxiety. 

In the game, you play as a monster-fighter, who is being summoned once again due to the presence of a new monster. Each time a monster appears, you struggle with the emotional effects of the magic: effects that look a lot like anxiety. You must steady yourself before you go off to fight: in the game and in real life.

Over the course of WB&S, players will participate in grounding methods and breathing techniques to calm themselves from an anxiety attack. These methods also serve as the game's oracle in order to determine how the story goes. 

What You'll Need:

A safe space to play 

A method of writing or recording

[ID: a page spread from the game. it is the section called "the science" and goes over the psychology behind the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique, the 4-7-8 breathing method, and destroying journaling. it has a few lines about narrative and play therapy, and that the creator of the game used these methods in his social work with neurodivergent teens and adults. end ID]

check out the game on itch now!!

[tg-headcanons]

Frothing at the mouth (positive) over the fact you're the only person aside from myself to put their whole ass into the fact the CCG is largely propaganda-based and they barely know shit about ghouls, and only publicly share twisted "facts" about ghouls to get further government money for their ghoul-genocide activities. Whats some CCG propaganda you think they push most aside from "ghouls wre animals and can't think/feel like humans can?"

YOU UNDERSTAND ME

The CCG does a lot more propaganda work than the general public, and even most investigators, realize. It’s human nature to want to bond and relate to one another and even things that aren’t human, and if people tend to humanize animals, plants, and even machines, a big part of what the CCG does is work to ensure they don’t try to humanize things that look human

Within the CCG there are rules policing language. Ghouls are to be referred to as “it,” and described as male or female rather than using man or woman. Reports referring to them with “he” or “she” are corrected to remove human language from them, and if a superior wants to they can easily use “humanizing language” as an excuse to punish an underling

Because the higher ups rely on their employees not understanding ghoul minds and social structure, they withhold information and most investigators don’t understand how intelligent they are. A study was done on particularly unwell ghouls in cochlea in order to engineer the conclusion that ghouls have the base intelligence of a nine year old child, and that their skills and language ability are mostly mimicry of humans. Because of this, a lot of ghouls have gone under the radar because they’re simply too complex or intelligent to be suspected. When some measurably intelligent ghouls are discovered, the higher ups take over quickly and the ghoul is either declared an odd outlier, or some cover up is utilized to deny their accomplishments

Because the only ghoul research happens in cochlea, a place designed to be as distressing and unhealthy as possible, the results are incredibly skewed. They do not understand social behaviors because the only captive interactions are between stressed and doomed ghouls. They do not fully understand kagune usage because they’re all drugged with rc suppressants. They do not know about ghoul hormonal cycles because the rc suppressants tend to make them fatal. As far as there doves know, ghoul are all erratic, mindlessly violent, and prone to unexplainable deaths in captivity. What little research there that is a good representation of ghoul complexity is often destroyed and falsified

The CCG makes an effort to locate people with violent tendencies or struggle with connection for their academy. Staff there knows that if a student is suffering socially or gets in fights, they are to be fast tracked to training. Many of them could have gotten help and thrived elsewhere, but the CCG training program encourages and enables these behaviors so long as it’s directed towards ghouls. They engineer investigators who are taught to cope with otherwise treatable issues by taking them out on something that looks human, but is okay for them to harm. These people are quickly promoted so when there are “complex cases,” they have someone they can trust not to humanize the ghouls and kill them as quickly as possible. They end up struggling to acclimate to anywhere else, more or less trapping them there to be attack dogs

A lot of news about ghouls has to be run through the CCG for approval. There’s a law on the books prohibiting the spread of dangerous misinformation regarding ghouls, which requires “professional input” on any officially released pieces about them. There are some public personalities and so called Ghoul Experts who absolutely don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, but the CCG allows them to speak on it because they parrot the dehumanizing propaganda they feed the public and it helps to have supposedly independent researchers confirm it. They all know Hisashi Ogura is full of shit, but his fearmongering makes their job much easier

Many investigators die every year because they were not allowed to know what the higher ups know. Countless employees were killed by ghouls they didn’t know how to locate due to misinformation about ghoul psychology or were killed with fighting techniques that were kept confidential for use by the washuu family. A good amount of deaths are preventable, but the CCG will never tell the lower ranks the things that would have saved them. Besides, having a brutal, fatal ghoul attack in the news every day is good for image

[garpond]

happy birthday to neil young here are some of my favorite things about him

-by the age of 20 he had owned 3 different used hearses, all of which experienced some form of extreme mechanical failure that caused him to have to get rid of them

-in buffalo springfield whenever he had to go out on a date with a girl he'd tell his friends about it beforehand so that they could interrupt the date to tell him he needed to be somewhere and was late so that he could be allowed to leave

-hated going in grocery stores because he would get overstimulated and have to leave

-didn't like how the first pressing of Comes A Time sounded so he bought 200,000 of the first copies of it and used them as shingles for a barn roof

-when one of his tour buses was destroyed (i forget how) he had it brought to his ranch and buried on the property like a beloved family pet

-his early ambition before music was to be a chicken farmer

-when he and carrie snodgress where dating she'd have a ton of people over sometimes and it gave him anxiety so one evening he decided to open the living room window and crawl out of it to get away from people instead of walking through the room to get to the door because apparently he couldn't wait that long and everyone saw it

-another time he randomly showed up at a neighbors' house and they didn't really know why he dropped in all of the sudden because he wasn't very social and it turns out it was because his manager had set up a meeting for him with the band America and he didn't want to do it so he was hiding

-during buffalo springfield he would hide in peoples closets a lot

-once he was guitar shopping with stephen stills and when he was offering on a guitar stephen offered more money on it to try and get it and it pissed him off so he started bidding higher to kick off a bidding war between then and once it was up to a ridiculous amount of money he just dropped it and was like ok you win lol ! and stephen had to pay an insane amount of money for it

-during one filmed interview with MTV or something he decided to fuck with them by adjusting the position of his hat super slightly every couple seconds so that when they cut the footage together and shifted things out of order it would look confusingly different every time

-during the recording of deja vu he lived by himself in a motel but he brought his 2 pet bush babies (named Harriet and Speedy) and they scared the shit out of Graham Nash

-gave a stranger he met like a week ago unrestricted access to his finances because the guy claimed he was going to help him buy a boat and the guy ended up stealing a couple thousand dollars

-during last buffalo springfield concert he was the only person who was not even remotely sad and on the way home jim messina was literally crying and neil was just like :] the whole way

-one year on his birthday at the ranch there was going to be a party and it was a tradition to have a bonfire at it so he went out into the woods to get sticks for it but somehow managed to grab a bunch of poison oak and it was used at the fire and after that he was not allowed to gather bonfire sticks anymore

-while filming the lincvolt documentary he met a trans woman and when he was interviewing her to ask for her opinion about the car she told him that what he was doing with it was a big change and he should probably ask for the car's permission to do it and he actually did do this later

-"everybodys rockin" originated as an r/maliciouscompliance type of project because while he was on geffen records Old Ways was rejected and the label asked for a "rock and roll album" and this was his response to that

-the infamous Eat A Peach incident

-there is much more but this is all i can come up with rn

[designation-zi]

Murder Drones Timeline of Events

Disclaimer: Most of this is speculation based off of background details and conjecture. Subject to change. If you notice anything I missed feel free to comment and I’ll make adjustments :)

Proceeding Events:

Sometime in the Future, around the 31st Century

- Humanity becomes advanced enough to venture into space and establish colonies and civilizations on exoplanets in other solar systems. Some of these include the “Proxima System”, “Plat-Binary System”, and the “Copper System.”

- JCJenson, an interstellar megacorporation creates a brand of autonomous robots known as “Worker Drones” to serve humanity and mine resources on the exoplanets. One of these planets is Copper-9 from the Copper System.

- Worker Drones are heavily abused and mistreated by humans, often being improperly disposed of and thrown into landfills.

- JCJenson is aware of the fact their drones have a chance of self rebooting if disposed of incorrectly, dubbing these “Zombie Drones.” This can happen if the drone and their core wasn’t properly disconnected and destroyed, or the software cleanup program “wdOS_606” wasn’t installed or was interrupted or rejected (even up to five years later.) The company is also aware that among these instances, there’s also a chance of the drone developing “Hazardous Mutations.”

- Camp 98.7 is established in the year 3002 on Copper-9.

Humanity’s Downfall:

Year still unknown, but still in the 31st Century

-Underneath a landfill of discarded drones on Earth, presumably in Australia, a drone with a P/N starting with “CYN” self reboots. A so called program named the “Absolute Solver” seemingly contacts her through her broken visor and appears to make a deal with her, promising not to “discard her.” This is how the Solver gets its first host. It’s not known if the Solver took complete control there or if Cyn’s possession was a process.

- The landfill is close by to the mansion of a wealthy human family known as the Elliotts. Their daughter “Tessa James Elliott” enjoys retrieving discarded drones from the landfill so she can repair them. These drones become part of the manor’s wait staff, but Tessa treats them like people and as her friends, even giving them wigs so they can have identifying traits — much to the annoyance of her parents.

- Among the drones Tessa has brought home three are known as N, V, and J due to their serial designation numbers visible on their yellow armbands. It can be noted that it seems Tessa scratched out the “Marked For Disassembly” on the bands with sharpie after she repaired them.

- One day Tessa finds Cyn in the dump and brings her home. She introduces her to N, V, and J shortly after.

- N treats Cyn kindly, and she refers to him as her big brother.

- An unknown amount of time passes and eventually Tessa seems to become unnerved around Cyn due to the drone’s odd behaviour and mannerisms. J often locks Cyn in the library basement because of this.

- Many of Tessa’s drones seem to mysteriously contract some sort of error which leaves them in a catatonic state with their visors flashing a large yellow X alongside the words “error 606” (note that 606 matches the software cleanup program’s name of wdOS_606.) Because of this they are placed into the library. One of these drones is V, who N regularly visits so he can try and talk to her and read to her.

- The Elliotts’s decide to throw a gala at their manor alongside another family called the Frumptlebuckets (lol.) An interesting observation is that these wealthy humans (or at least those in the Elliott’s social circle) apparently like to dress up and act similar to those from around the Victorian era.

- Cyn escapes from the basement and convinces N to attend the gala, so they head to the ballroom to ask Tessa. This ends up leading to an altercation with Tessa’s mother Louisa where she orders Tessa to dump Cyn and all of her other “broken” drones in the library back into the landfill.

- Cyn talks back to Louisa, but N takes the fall for her and ends up being chained outside next to a dead drone that had been picked apart by a flock of crows. Meanwhile, Tessa has been chained up in her bedroom alongside J and Cyn as punishment. This, alongside an earlier scene where she seemingly rubs her wrist in pain implies this happens fairly often to her and highlights that her parents are abusive.

- Tessa berates Cyn for N taking the blame for her, angered that N may end up dead. However, Cyn seems indifferent and calmly claims she has “backups” of N.

- Cyn transforms into her horrific eldritch Solver form and claims Tessa won’t have to “discard her pets” and that she won’t discard her either. She leaves out the window after warning Tessa to stay away from the gala due to her seeming squeamish, revealing her intent to massacre the humans.

- Wanting to save everyone from being killed, Tessa gets J to break their chains and the two of them sneak out and arm themselves with a revolver and sword respectively. Despite this, after they arrive everyone is massacred anyways thanks to Cyn/the Solver corrupting the other Worker Drones, including J, who shuts the door so Tessa can’t escape.

- It’s assumed N escapes being killed by the crows and walks in on Cyn slaughtering the humans at the gala due to a brief flashback of him seeing Cyn eating a human hand (when he touches the Zombie Drones VHS tape.)

- Tessa is killed, and in a twisted way of sticking to her word of not discarding her, Cyn skins her corpse to graft it onto her drone body. (Due to an image of humans in hazmat suits finding Tessa surrounded by the remains of the people from the gala, it’s not fully known if Cyn also killed her at the gala and then posed as her, or if she was killed shortly afterwards.)

- Cyn converts the drones from the manor, including N, V, and J into deadly “Disassembly Drones.” They are given a “nerfed” version of the Solver that Cyn has admin access over to better remain control over them. Their memories are erased before setting them loose to slaughter the rest of the humans on Earth. Sometime after, the Solver causes the planet to implode into a black hole.

- The other colonies on the human exoplanets catch wind of what’s happened back on Earth, so JCJenson establishes “Cabin Fever Labs” to research the Solver and how to stop it.

- One of these labs is established on Copper-9 at Camp 98.7 and its surrounding mineshafts (and a cathedral that was there for some reason.) Multiple drones are purposely given the Solver, notably Nori (002) and Yeva (048.)

- The other exoplanets of the Proxima and Plat-Binary systems are corrupted and wiped out due to the Solver spreading and the Disassembly Drones presumably being sicced there.

- Nori ends up becoming possessed by the Solver. Eventually the JCJenson scientists on Copper-9 are able to create a Crucifix USB patch that can get rid of the Solver’s hold on its hosts. This patch is seemingly only successfully used on Yeva. Unfortunately, before it can be used on Nori, the Solver uses her to kill all the scientists except for an intern named Mitchell who had mistakenly put on the wrong uniform of a doctor and had been sent to fetch Yeva.

- Before the Solver can kill Mitchell after he returns, Yeva saves him and throws the USB into Nori’s face which frees her from its control, but also leaves her mind scrambled. However, the Solver is still able to create a small black hole with Nori’s hand that Yeva is forced to cut off. It’s sent falling into a pit to the planet’s core that the Solver had opened up prior.

- Copper-9’s planetary core partly implodes which wipes all organic life off the planet and turns it into a frozen wasteland. (Don’t worry. The dogs had been evacuated beforehand.) It seems a group of humans tried to survive by cryogenically freezing themselves in a bunker called “Outpost 3” in one of Copper-9’s cities. This didn’t work due to the computer having an error. This leaves the Worker Drones to inherit the planet and embrace their freedom.

Aftermath:

Year still unknown

- Nori and Yeva escape Cabin Fever Labs, while other test subjects such as Alice (017) are left behind to try and survive the lab’s Anti Drone sentinels. Nori meets a drone named Khan Doorman and ends up marrying him while Yeva also finds herself a husband.

- Uzi Doorman and Doll are created by their parents uploading parts of their code into Untrained Neural Networks and they both inherit their mothers’ connections to the Solver.

- The Doorman family experiences moments of happy family memories until Nori begins to have “kooky insane” ramblings and visions about the Solver and Disassembly Drones which she refers to as “Sky Demons” as a result of her brain being scrambled from the USB patch.

- Nori tries to warn the other drones and tells Khan to build doors to shelter themselves from the upcoming dangers.

Return of the Solver:

Sometime before the year 3071

- Cyn/The Solver sends squads of Disassembly Drones to Copper-9. Their memories are wiped and they are made to believe they were created and sent by the humans of JCJenson to eliminate the rogue Worker Drone population. Their directive also involves piling their kills into a “Corpse Spire” and locating Cabin Fever Labs. Cyn also wants to kill all other Solver hosts for an unknown reason.

- The squad consisting of N, V, and J lands close to the bunker of Outpost 3 and begin killing any Worker Drones they come across.

- V is seemingly the only Disassembly Drone that has retained some memory of Cyn and the Solver. She keeps this to herself and follows her directive so Cyn will leave her alone. Additionally, she also pretends to forget about N, believing this will protect him.

- A colony of Worker Drones takes shelter in Outpost 3 where Khan starts to build protective doors like his wife had requested. Around this time Nori is stung with a Disassembly Drone’s nanite acid. Khan uses a wrench to put her out of her misery. However, unbeknownst to anyone else, Nori manages to survive in her Solver core/heart form and goes back to Cabin Fever Labs so she can look for the Crucifix USB Patch.

- V kills Doll’s parents. Doll witnesses this while hiding and the trauma seemingly causes her Solver abilities to begin manifesting.

- The “Worker Drone Defence Force” is established in Outpost 3 with Khan as the leader. Unfortunately, they don’t really try to defend anything and just play cards behind the doors.

- The other Disassembly Drone squads that make it to Cabin Fever Labs are killed by either the Sentinels or Alice and (presumably) her son Beau. Alice scavenges parts from Disassembly Drones and Worker Drones to add to herself and Beau since he is stuck in an Untrained Neural Network body. She also learns to put the Solver cores in heat as it “makes them sluggish.”

Year 3071

- The events of episodes 1 - 7 occur

• Recent Revelation: At the end of episode 3 Cyn arrives on Copper-9 impersonating an older Tessa. She is accompanied by a backed up copy of J who was previously killed by Uzi in episode 1. It’s currently unknown if J is aware that Tessa is actually dead.

[westnort-southeast]

In a vibrant spring afternoon, the sun gently filtered through the windows of Aaron Mercury's luxurious apartment, highlighting the minimalist elegance that characterized his home. Aaron, a successful entrepreneur known for his ventures in the gourmet dining sector, was browsing through his social media. With over a million followers on TikTok, Aaron was famous for his videos blending business tips with a dose of glamorous lifestyle.

However, this tranquility was abruptly interrupted by a phone call that would change his life forever. The phone rang insistently, and upon answering, a deep, threatening voice spoke to him from the other side. It was Marco Díaz, a ruthless criminal who had managed to escape from prison. Marco, an expert in dark magic and occult arts, had devised a twisted plan to swap bodies with someone who could offer him a new life of luxury and power.

In a moment of distraction, while Aaron tried to make sense of what was happening, Marco managed to transfer his consciousness into the businessman's body, leaving Aaron trapped in the criminal's body. Aaron suddenly found himself in a dark and unfamiliar world, unable to comprehend how he had ended up in this situation. Meanwhile, Marco, now in Aaron's body, relished in his new identity.

With the charm and appearance of a successful entrepreneur, Marco began to exploit the advantages that Aaron's life offered him. His physical presence, now more attractive and seductive thanks to Aaron's body, turned him into a sexier and more powerful version of himself. Marco skillfully navigated the high society circles Aaron frequented, seducing multiple women with his charisma and charm amplified by the body swap.

"Look how you shine now, Aaron," Marco murmured to himself as he observed his reflection in the mirror, appreciating every detail of his new appearance. "This body offers me more than I ever dreamed of. I have money, prestige, and power in the palm of my hand."

Meanwhile, the real Aaron Mercury, trapped in Marco's body, was forced to follow the criminal's orders. Marco had threatened to ruin his life and reputation if he resisted or reported him. Aaron, in a state of shock and desperation, was compelled to act as Marco's henchman, participating in increasingly dangerous and morally questionable activities to maintain appearances.

Over time, Aaron began to develop skills and knowledge that originally belonged to Marco. The merging of their identities started to alter his thoughts and behaviors, leading him to face internal conflicts about who he really was and what his future would hold. Despite everything, Aaron couldn't help but feel a growing sense of revulsion towards Marco's actions and how he was using his body to satisfy his own desires and ambitions.

The situation became even more complicated when Aaron, who had led a relatively reserved life before the body swap, suddenly found himself with a legion of admirers who were captivated by the charismatic and attractive businessman that Marco now appeared to be in his body. Women approached him at events and social gatherings, fascinated by his new aura of power and mystery.

"You can't escape this, Aaron," Marco reminded him with a sinister smile. "This body and this life are mine now. If you try anything, I'll destroy everything you've ever loved."

Weeks turned into months, and Aaron's life became a constant nightmare of lies and deceit as he struggled internally to find a way to reclaim his true body and expose Marco. However, every attempt to escape or reveal the truth was quickly quashed by Marco, who ensured he maintained absolute control over him.

Meanwhile, Marco, enjoying the fruits of his new life, exponentially expanded his drug trafficking network using Aaron Mercury's resources and influence to consolidate his position as one of the region's most feared and powerful criminals. His new appearance and charisma made him an even more enigmatic and dangerous figure within the criminal underworld.

My first story also in English; perhaps with enough support, I'll continue writing.

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse and trauma

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 3

“Come on I don’t have all day”.

You wiped your tears and got up, smoothing your outfit and keeping your head bowed to avoid the gazes of the passing by faeries. His long strides made it almost impossible for you to keep up with him, and you ended up jogging behind him.

“Slow down please” you were panting.

He stopped abruptly and you almost crashed onto his wings. He turned slowly and stared down at you, his eyes narrowed, and you could feel his breath on your face.

“Let me make it clear to you since you obviously aren’t that clever” he growled. “I will not get orders from you, it’s quite the opposite… you are going to follow my rules and orders, or I will make your life a nightmare.” He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen on your face and pushed it behind your ear. “Now princess… you didn’t have permission to speak AND you dared to give me an order. What should I do about that?”

You were trembling and a new wave of tears crashed on you. “Be a good girl and apologize and I will consider to not punish you”. His voice was deep and raspy, and his eyes darkened making you wonder if the punishment would be something you might actually enjoy. You blushed at the thought. Azriel noticed that and moved closer.

“What is it princess? Are you tired of everyone spoiling you? Do you want someone to treat you like a common whore?” You shivered at his words, and you felt something burning inside of you. You won’t let him disrespect you like that. This time it was your own voice inside your head not your mother’s. Your hands curled into tight fists, and you clenched your teeth.

“Go to hell” you growled and pushed him to the side storming off. Azriel was caught off guard by your outburst, he didn’t expect it and for the first time he wasn’t able to keep the cold mask on his face as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He shook his head to get some control back and turned around. You were gone from his sight.

“Fuck” he murmured and hurried off to find you.

Even though he hated you, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating faster and the panic that filled his body. You didn’t know how to handle the situations that might occur in a city like this, you were always protected. He kept cursing as he was walking further into the city without a sign of you. His shadows were slithering around frantically and coming back to him hissing We can’t find her.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your hands were shaking, and your breaths were uneven, you felt rage and shame consuming you. Rage -because of the way Azriel treated you. Shame -because you enjoyed it and your mind created filthy images of Azriel punishing you. You had never taken a male to your bed, but you had heard the newly mated females you used to hang out with talking about their experiences. Then your mother found out and she forbid you from spending time with them. These females are a bad influence y/n, I don’t want you to start longing for a mate… if you are mated with a lesser fae then everything we have been trying for will be destroyed. She had said without a care about your tears. Ever since you met Mor and she brought you here you watched the females around you and started realising that your parents didn’t actually give a damn about you, they only saw you as their last chance to a better life and this hurt you deeply.

After you pushed Azriel to the side you ran away, you needed time to calm down and control yourself. Now that you kind of accomplished that you were scared to go back, he would be furious for sure and you didn’t have the courage to face him. You entered a place called Rita’s. You noticed how loud the music was and the bodies of the faeries there grinding against each other in some kind of…dancing? You squeezed between them and reached the bar.

“What can I get you dollface?” a young male with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes asked. You stared at his eyes and immediately an image of Azriel’s flashed into your mind making you suppress a gasp. Don’t think about him. You reprimanded yourself. The young male quirked a brow at your lack of response. “Oh…uhm I’m not sure” you smiled.

“First time?” he chuckled, and you nodded. “Okay so are you feeling happy or sad?” he asked. “I feel like I need to kill someone” you confessed and lowered your gaze.

“Okay, something strong then” he smiled and turned around, he picked a bottle and started mixing some things you couldn’t see because of his back. A few minutes later he came back with a glass of a brown liquid.

“Whiskey” he said, “with something else that I won’t tell you because it’s my secret recipe.” The male winked and then you noticed that he had another glass in his hands. He noticed your gaze and shrugged. “Figured you might need some company” and with that he grabbed a stool and sat across you.

“Don’t you have to make drinks? There’s a line over there.” You pointed to your left where another male was running around mixing drinks while ten faeries were waiting.

“Oh don’t worry Clover can handle it” he waved and then a loud crushing noise sounded. You both whipped your heads to the direction the noise came from and saw Clover on the ground covered in liquor. You burst into laughter as the male shouted “Nice timing brother” and rolled his eyes. “I’ll go help him wait here” he told you and got up.

“Aw Aeden so kind of you to come help me” Clover said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, a mischievous smile on his face. You giggled as you watched the scene in front of you.

You took a sip from your drink and grimaced, it burned your throat, yet the taste was good, so you continued drinking. After a while Aeden was back.

“So now that I’m back would you like to tell me what’s bothering you?” he grinned.

You shrugged. “I just can’t stand my babysitter.”

Aeden choked on his drink. “What?” You giggled and explained “Well the high lord here Rhysand forced someone to show me the city and take care of me until I adjust here… and I really can’t stand him”.

Aeden blinked “the high lord? You’re friends with the high lord?”

“Well not actually friends, I think more like I’m his… guest? I don’t know.” You shrugged again.

Aeden seemed uncomfortable for some time but after talking about the winter court and its beauties he seemed to relax. You kept drinking and having fun with him. After some time you felt like fainting and Aeden jumped over the counter and steadied you.

“Okay, I think you had enough dollface. I’m taking you home.”

“Like hell you are” a deep voice rumbled, and you almost fell as Aeden was yanked back. Azriel threw him on the ground and stood in front of you, flaring his wings and covering you.

“The fucking shadowsinger is your babysitter?” Aeden gasped and crawled backwards distancing himself from the furious Illyrian.

Azriel furrowed his eyebrows and turned to you “babysitter?”

You giggled and reached for him making him even more confused. “Take me home, I wanna sleep” you whined, the alcohol taking over completely. Azriel picked you up and you nested your head in his neck.

“You should feel lucky that she’s sleepy, that’s the only reason you are still alive” he said to Aeden and walked away.

“You are mean” you murmured and hugged him harder. “I know princess” he said and took off making you yelp and then giggle. This earned a chuckle from him.

He carried you to your room and waited for you to change in the bathroom and get into bed. He covered you with your duvet and made sure you were laying on your side in case you puked.

“Goodnight princess” he whispered and turned to leave. His shadows stayed on the bed making him stop and call for them, they didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” you asked as you noticed that he didn’t leave. “My shadows don’t want to leave your bed” he sighed. “It’s okay, I don’t mind them.” You smiled and they instantly climbed on you, creating a cocoon.

Azriel smiled at the sight and left.

You slept peacefully, his shadows soothing you and covering your eyes when the sun appeared. You dreamed of a young, winged boy, so beautiful and sweet… he was playing with a stunning female but then someone came and took him, the boy didn’t cry… he didn’t scream for his mom, it was almost as he expected to be taken. The man threw him in a dark cell, there weren’t any windows or lights, the door closed behind you and you watched the boy, he was silently playing with some rocks… your heart broke at the sight. The door opened again, and two other boys walked in, they looked older than him, one of them grabbed him and the other poured a liquid on his arms and then… they lit his hands on fire, the boy screamed and cried, he was rolling around screaming and you couldn’t reach him, you tried to get to him, to help him but you couldn’t. And then you realized that you have seen those burns again. With a gasp you shoot up and puked all over the bed. Now you know. The shadows whispered in your ear and disappeared.

Hope you enjoy it! Requests are open! @zara-aliza08 @mika-no-sekai-blog @purpleshoelaces @act1839 @fasoaurore @pinksmellslikelove @bunnyredgirl @lectoracronica @tuggboatfishin @sunnysideup000 @blessthepizzaman @universevsd @raisinggray @ssmay123 @glitterypirateduck

[communistkenobi]

one thing that’s been very clarifying for me in the course of reading Paxton’s Anatomy of Fascism is the way he lays out how fascists appropriate left-wing rhetoric for their own pro-nationalist and pro-capitalist ends. The age old talking point “did you know the Nazis were actually socialists” is a direct result of this - fascist power is in part built by obscuring the reality of class division in order to appear “working class” and to claim they have popular support (which is a lie). they do this by appropriating left-wing talking points to speak to the middle class, blaming foreigners and foreign competition for their economic precarity, blaming marxists for trying to destroy democracy, etc. this tactic seems to still work fantastically given how so many liberals and middle class progressives still insist that bigotry is the domain of the working class. Adorno also describes how fascists use antisemitism in particular to appear anti-capitalist, by casting Jews as the misfit bourgeoisie, framing the problem of capitalism as something that can be solved by a changing of the guard, replacing the weak rulers with the strong. fascists are not anti-capitalist, they dislike when capitalism degrades conservative social norms, such as requiring middle class white women to work outside the home, or allowing beer companies sell alcohol with pride flags on it, or make visible the non-white working class. They don’t want an end to capitalism, they want their women in the home and their servants invisible and the image of themselves reflected back at them in their consumption habits at all times.

this is, also, how terfs continue to cast themselves as left-wing - they appropriate the language of feminism for their own right wing goals, which is a society in which gender division is comprehensively enforced by the state. Their biggest issue right now is that the enforcement of this division has waned - trans people are “allowed” into bathrooms now, into change rooms now, into sports now, and most of all, we are now visible in public life. They want to build the power of the state up, not so that they may seize it to liberate women or abolish patriarchy, but to reinforce the traditional gender norms they see as withering away. This is why terfs align themselves with the right wing - this is not an uneasy alliance, there is no contradiction here. They want right wing power for themselves, and they use their feminism as a spectacle to obscure this goal. once you understand this, it’s incredibly easy to tell the difference between a terf and a left wing feminist. these people are as left wing as the nazis, which is to say, not at all

[collidescopeeyes]

HCs of Aatrox as a weapon and a reader who is his user please 😭🙏

Aatrox with wielder!Reader

- Look there's gotta be a whole character arc here before he's in a state to exist around other people. He's a man trapped inside a sword trying to escape the very nature of his existence by destroying the world and by extension himself, thereby trapping himself in a nightmarish cycle of violence and pain with no respite. Like, all he's done for the last few centuries was possess some poor fool, go on an apocalyptic warpath, get killed, and be stuck back in the suffocating sensory deprivation tank of his sword form until someone new picks him up, rinse repeat.

- You find him in sword form, but much like Kayn and Rhaast he doesn't manage to overcome you–except instead of using him to murder people, you just kinda lug him around and show him all the nice things about living (cuz honestly, leaving him there would be kind of fucked up).

- Being put in forcible time out, he very reluctantly is forced to admit that maybe existence isn't all pain and okay, yeah, maybe there is inherent value in life. The hot springs are nice, he guesses. Human, bring him to the hot springs again.

- He's gonna be a huge bitch for a while let's be real, like full tilt raging complete with threats of grievous bodily harm (and he can be a real bitch when he wants to be, have you heard some of his voice lines??). At the same time, he's terrified you'll leave him so he still tries to go the ‘temptation of power, just give in’ route, and generally emphasizes how powerful he is and how useful he can be.

- Eventually you go from being you, human, to his human. He hasn't had a social interaction that did not end with someone dying in literal centuries, much less a friend. Like he still bitches but instead of threatening you, he starts threatening anything that threatens you, which he defends with the idea that he's the only one worthy of killing you. You learn not to take it personally, your giant sword with a disembodied heart set into the hilt is a tsundere, this is your life now.

- ‘ive only had this human for two months and if anything happens to them I'm killing everyone in this plane of existence and then myself’, but to be fair that last part was his plan to begin with. Anything even begins to threaten you and it's fire and brimstone from him–unfortunately, he can't exactly do much as a sword other than beg you to use him to slaughter anyone who so much as says a harsh word to you.

- The longer you wield him, the more he becomes attuned to you–which is new to him, because Darkin usually don't have a wielder without them becoming a full host for this long, and even then the wielder is usually trying to suppress them. With you, Aatrox gradually gets his senses back–unlike Naafiri and Rhaast, his sword form doesn't come with eyes, so he basically has to magically parasitize your vision and see through your eyes. Gradually this extends to other senses too–hell of a shock to him when he starts to feel your pain. Eventually, he gets his own sense of touch back, which is kinda weird since his body is a sword now, but it's still leagues better than eternal numbness. Even if he's not really sure how to process that he can feel you literally holding his disembodied heart in your hands.

- His grand plan was to accumulate the blood from every rare instance you were forced to use him to defend yourself in order to build himself a new body and then kill you with it. The plan is amended to killing you in your sleep, cuz he likes you, even if he doesn't want to admit it. It takes literally until he's standing over you that he realizes ‘I don't….actually want to do this,’ and he has zero follow up plan or capacity for self reflection so he just stands there like a weirdo. And then you wake up.

- “Are you gonna kill me?” “....no.” “Okay, cool, I'm going back to sleep.”

- You start travelling together like normal people then, except y'know, being in human form is pretty taxing so a decent chunk of the time he just...stays a sword. This is a huge gesture of trust from him, knowing that if you happen to put him down he'll be put back into a prison of his own body, but also you've kinda earned his trust in this matter since you could've left him to suffer at any point before now and didn't. He still acts like it's some sort of honor for you to be wielding him, but you've also earned his respect by this point so the ‘puny human’ talk has pretty much evaporated.

- His protectiveness gets worse once he has a body to act independently with, but not as much as you'd think–he respects your wishes and genuinely doesn't want to upset you, so he won't hurt anyone you don't want him to (...too bad)–though he will intimidate the everliving fuck out of anyone he thinks is a threat to you. He does actually still have a pretty robust sense of right and wrong–it’s just that he didn't give a fuck about it in the face of escaping the torture of his existence. Now you're that escape, and he'll defend you with the same visciousness that he killed literal gods with.

- He does not have any frame of reference for romance. He only sort of remembers being Ascended, and barely if at all being human before that–and in all that time he was a soldier through and through, devoted to his duty above all. He doesn't even know that he's caught feelings. Like he wants to be close to you all the time (and other urges he shall not be examining), but that's normal right?? You've been carrying him around for months now, surely it's because of that. He also hasn't had anyone touch him without also trying to kill him in centuries, forget that he can actually feel it now–surely that's why the slightest touch from you makes his heart skip a beat (you can literally see it, it's right there in the sword). It's normal. He's being super normal. Denial is just a river in Shurima.

- Point being, the man is oblivious, and even if he wasn't, he has no fucking idea what he's doing and he has a boatload of unresolved self-esteem issues. You're gonna have to make the first move and you're gonna have to be very forward and upfront with him. He's gonna freeze, Aatrox.exe is working overtime; internally he goes from ‘tf do you mean I have feelings’ to ‘tf do you mean I have feelings for a human’ to ‘well obviously this is my human, she's special, why wouldn't I have feelings for her’ to ‘me?? Why the fuck does she want me??’ to finally deciding that he would have to be clinically insane to turn you down (putting aside that he thinks there's a very real chance that he is in fact insane, but he's working on that).

- Not that he knows how to be in a relationship. Mutual respect and communication can go a long way to figuring stuff like this out, but it's pretty obvious he's out of his depth–he’s struggling to adjust to existing in general, and he's got centuries of trauma and a barely repressed anger management issue. It helps that he knows you're on his side (and that he's probably already made every threat under the sun when you first met), but the man doesn't exactly have a lot of practice dealing with his frustration in a healthy way. Patience is essential here–he’s trying, and he will get better with time and understanding.

- He's actually super self conscious about his body–in his eyes, it's a twisted, filthy reminder of what he used to be. Without a compatible host, Darkin bodies start to break down without fresh blood to sustain them, and he can't help but compare it to how he used to be before the Void war. His form is stable with you, but he still has a whole lot of negative associations. You've got your work cut out for you if you want to convince him he's not some sort of malformed disgusting beast–he’s very much of the opinion that you're some kind of saint for wanting him despite what he looks like.

- Despite all that, physical closeness is a big thing in his culture, plus he's touch starved and will take any opportunity to have you close. If you're not doing anything he'll literally just pick you up and deposit you on his lap so he can be close to you. If he's in sword form, he'll sulk if you put him down for even a moment. It's funny though, because as much as he passively demands attention like some sort of large spiky cat, he also gets really flustered if you're affectionate with him. He's also a huge tsundere though, so him being flustered mostly involves stammered yelling (he’s actually kind of awkward, when he's not being intimidating–re his joke lines).

- Darkin run hot as a consequence of the hemomancy their bodies are made up of–in particular, the area over his heart is very warm. He doesn't visibly blush per se, but the glow of his heart gets more radiant when he's flustered, and he gets noticably warmer. The dark plated parts of him are hard and bone-like with the slightest bit of give, whereas the red parts feel like normal skin if slightly thicker. He has a habit of only touching you with his unplated left hand–the other one has a lot of jagged edges and he worries he'll accidentally cut you (plus, the plated parts feel less). Since his form is fairly stable with you he can manifest his wings fairly consistently, but he's stuck at a (relatively) meager 9ft tall without absorbing any new bodies. His wings are more batlike than anything, and the webbing is extremely sensitive.

- In Ancient Shuriman custom, marriage is a social arrangement wherein a couple is considered married as soon as they start living together, no ceremony or paperwork required (fun fact: actual ancient egyptian custom!). Most couples have this accompanied with a legalized property agreement, but Aatrox was raised into a warrior caste that doesn't have a concept of private property, and he doesn't currently have much of a use for possessions anyway. This is all to say Aatrox considers you to be married and you have no idea until he offhandedly refers to you as his wife.

- All that being said, he still has an extreme sense of duty to his follow Darkin, being about as close to a leader as they have left after the war and their sealing. He feels an obligation to find a way to alleviate their suffering, either by finding them hosts, undoing their binding into weapons, or finding a way to kill them and have them actually stay dead. It's a grim task and it's pretty important to him to have your support in it, however you want to approach it.

[hoasvuon]

(3:42 AM)

It’s 3:42 AM and you and Taehyun are sitting at a diner booth, ordering breakfast because as you told him, “Breakfast is a social construct and I refuse to let my life be run by society’s rules.”

There’s a feeling Taehyun can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s so early in the morning, or the fact that the lights in the diner light up your face in a way that makes it seem like you’re in a black and white movie, illuminating your features. All he can do is focus on the smallest details about you, how you drum the edge of the table as you’re waiting for your food, how you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you are gazing out the window in a way that makes him think that maybe there is something nostalgic out there that he simply can’t see. You reach out to grab the ice water the waitress had given you, holding it in between two hands, and he knows that in a few seconds, you’ll complain about how your hands are cold now (but he won’t mind because it gives him an excuse to hold your hands in between his and blow warm air on them).

Even when the waitress comes with your dishes, he can’t place the feeling he gets when he looks at you. But he’s jolted out of his thoughts when he hears you talking to yourself.

“Oh no”, you mumble sadly, “I put too much ketchup on my eggs, now they’re ruined”

He looks down and sees that, yes, there is quite a large spot of ketchup on your scrambled eggs, far too close to your pancakes, and he knows that though you might be slightly joking, you also will feel a bit sad later in the morning.

Without hesitation, he reaches over with his spoon and scoops up some of the ketchup, leaving just the amount he knows you like. He places it on a stray napkin, and as he looks back up, you have a small smile on your face. 

“Thank you, you say. “I lo-“, you close your mouth quickly and look down at your plate, and let out a small cough. You hadn’t said those words before, and it seemed like 3 AM in a random diner might not be the best place. 

Taehyun looks at you, and how you hold your fork a bit tighter in your hand, a habit you picked up from childhood. He sees how you place the tiniest of salt on your hash browns because even if they’re perfectly seasoned, you feel unsettled without doing it. How, inevitably, you’ll end up giving your bacon to him because even though you insist you like bacon, you don’t, and always refuse to replace it because you know he loves bacon and you want to give him yours. He thinks about all these little things he knows about you that make you you, and how he is utterly, irreversibly, completely enamored with you. And he realizes, how utterly, irreversibly, completely in love with you. 

"I love you", Taehyun blurts out, “I love you too.”, he says the second as a bit of an afterthought, as if to make sure that you love him as well.

It’s a bit of a scary feeling, knowing that one person holds the key to your entire being, and trusting them not to destroy you. But, Taehyun thinks, everyone in this world will end up hurt one way or another. And that no matter what fights the two of you get into, how many small arguments have happened, he could never truly be upset with you. You could tear him apart and he would be okay with it because it’s you. He can’t help but think that if you were the one to hurt him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You look at him, a bit surprised but with a soft smile on your face, and eyes crinkling at the edges. You nod, and respond, “I love you too.” He sees how you’re smiling to yourself even though you are looking down at your plate, avoiding his gaze. 

The world is still spinning, and outside people are walking by the window, unaware of the blossoming feelings of first love. But it’s 3:48 AM in a random diner, and Taehyun thinks to himself, he’s in love.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

of course it’s an alicent profile pic saying this shit:

the thing is, i would’ve agreed with the original sentiment of this post if it wasn’t for the tags, but then this person goes mask off and proves to me that they were only pretending to offer meaningful criticism.

cause all i see in these tags is buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️

i just wanna know, why are the targaryens always singled out as the house that ‘regularly cannibalizes its own?’

these don’t exist ig: the she-wolves of winterfell, the current lannisters, and literally every House ever.

why are the targaryens held to such an unfair standard? and why are they held responsible for the sins of their ancestors?

it is literally so funny. but like… in an astonishing kind of way.

in these tags there’s no objective language used 🙅‍♀️ no care for nuance 🙅‍♀️ and no meaningful interaction with the main themes of the series 🙅‍♀️

OP kind of tries to pretend, but it’s all surface level shit. it’s clear that they’re blinded by their hatred of the targs and dany.

because george never holds things his characters can’t control against them. what a character should be judged by is their actions, and imo, that’s what george writes about: how individual characters actions and choices can shape the world around them (bonus if the character is a cripple, bastard, or broken thing and is trying to protect others); and he also puts a lot of emphasis on a characters intentions and how they come to their decisions, which gets us his famous ‘human heart in conflict with itself’ thesis statement.

george, someone who’s interested in the choices of the individual and how they get there, clearly thinks it’s important to showcase how different characters handle great power, otherwise he wouldn’t have so many POV characters in positions of such great importance.

on that note, asoiaf isn’t an anti-monarchy piece. you could easily claim that it’s a criticism of systematic oppression, systematic violence, corrupt institutions, and unbalanced social structures; it’s a sort of think piece on how people in positions of power destroy the lives of the common in their petty fights of greed and ambition, all whilst ignoring the incoming humanity ending threat.

and through this thought process, you get the title of the first book: a game of thrones. the political shifts are a game for these powerful people, and this motif is one of the most important statements to understand in order to interact with the series discussion on what it means to be a good ruler. this motif also comes up in a conversation jorah and dany have about the smallfolk: “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are.” it’s high lords, not royals. it’s a critique of the whole social structure and political system, not a criticism of one family.

so, if you’re of this belief that petty power disputes are dumb and are angry that most high lords don’t give a shit about their subjects, then you should love daenerys, who’s one of the few characters who’s using her power to make lasting societal change.

now, is she perfect? no. no she’s not. cause she’s a teenage girl trying to take down a slave trade that’s been around for thousands of years (hilarious that she’s actually fixing the mistakes of her ancestors…). but dany is learning and is doing her best to get better and is trying to empower the powerless. that sets her apart from almost every other ruler in asoiaf and makes her one of the most important POVs in this book series quest to find out what makes a good ruler. something something gods make kings and queens to protect those who can’t protect themselves…

with that in mind, i agree that the conclusion of the series won’t be a character sitting on a throne because of their blood or because of some divine right mumbo jumbo. imo, a character will only sit on a throne if they’ve been smart, gained allies, formed alliances, have control of an army, have gained loyalty from the people they wish to rule, have been honorable, maybe have a dragon or three, and are a hero.

dany has checked off almost all the boxes, so i think it’s safe to root for her. and considering the foreshadowing, i think it’s logical to guess that peace will be ushered in, even if it’s a hard won peace. and what’s wrong with believing that daenerys will be one of the ones who helps usher in this peace after all the work she’s done to protect those who don’t have the power to protect themselves?