#the bear ramblings

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

Every time people try to pretend there’s no existence of racial bias in the way Sydcarmy is dismissed, an angel loses their wings.

You know what’s exhausting? Watching people bend over backward to insist that there are no racist or misogynoir undertones to the way Sydcarmy gets dismissed as a valid ship.. like let’s just be real for a second.

I understand people who don't ship it or believe in the ship because they prefer to take the show at face value, focus on different dynamics, or interpret relationships in other ways. However, the people who deny any validity to believing their relationship is more than meets the eye? That needs to be addressed.

People will swear up and down that their issue isn’t with Sydney, that they love her, and that they "just think Carmy should go to therapy first"—but then in the same breath, you'll catch them romanticizing the hell out of his dynamic with Claire, a relationship that was unhealthy, regressive, and rooted in avoidance rather than growth. @yannaryartside covers the very strong existence of the Oedipus complex and the fulfillment of Carmy’s mommy issues through Claire’s behavior and manipulation in their relationship, and I agree wholeheartedly.

Let’s talk about the “Carmen needs therapy before a girlfriend” argument. Let’s be real—Carmy needed therapy when he was with Claire too, but nobody seemed to mind that. In fact, everyone around him—Richie, the Faks, even the audience—enabled this idea of Claire as a “good” thing for him, as if she wasn’t feeding into his worst tendencies. And the most infuriating part? Claire was, in fact, manipulative. (Again, covered by @yannaryartside .)

She didn’t do it in an overt, villainous way but used **soft, socially acceptable manipulation**—the kind that gets ignored when it’s coming from a conventionally attractive, non-threatening, quirky white woman.

Claire’s Manipulation: The Softness of a Manic Pixie Dream Girl

People like to act like Claire was just a character who wasn’t well-written or worth the time for analysis, but that was the entire point of her: to feel underwhelming, to feel forced into place. In many ways this is true of course, she's under/not well-written in ways, and people think she was simply there, offering Carmy what she believed (and convinced him to believe) was love, when in reality, she inserted herself into his life in a way that preyed on his vulnerabilities and pre-existing issues.

And before anyone jumps in with "she didn’t do anything wrong!"—let’s actually look at how she operated.

- She sought him out when he wasn’t in a good place.

She made it a point to go out of her way to get his real number after being given a fake one. If course she uses that classic manipulative play it off as a joke move when she threatens him but not the best way to start. I know it's been said before, but can we imagine if the roles were reversed? Would we not think that creepy?

- She made it about her when he was struggling.

When Carmy tried to set a boundary, Claire framed it as him pulling away from her, rather than him dealing with his own issues. She encouraged his avoidance, gave him an easy escape from his problems, and then was surprised—and (validly) hurt—when reality came crashing down. Even when Carmy was harsh in breaking up with her, he was speaking from a place of truth for himself. To be with her, when he was so damaged and not really in a space of genuinely liking her, was bullshit.

- She used nostalgia as a tool.

Claire’s entire presence in Carmy’s life was based on a past version of him that no longer existed. Just as Carmy didn’t really see Claire, but rather a projected version of her shaped by his family (and a little bit of Sydney), Claire didn’t love him—she loved the idea of Carmy she had from childhood. And she expected him to fit back into that mold, to regress into a state where he could blow off work to hang out with her and forget his partnership with Sydney, someone he's meant to work with and has a responsibility to be with. That’s not love. That’s entitlement to a person’s growth—or lack thereof.

And yet, people ignore all this because Claire fits their idea of what a love interest should look like to them. She’s non-threatening, familiar, digestible. They don’t question why she feels right, - white - while Sydney—who actually challenges Carmy, who understands him in ways Claire never could—gets written off as “not romantic.”

Claire, for "clarity" or "peace" (ugh)—is simple. She's the painted picture of a woman who puts others before herself, the quirky manic pixie dream girl inching too close to the camera, sneaking her way into his life. People argue it feels like the same effect Sydney has on Carmy, but it's not the same at all. Claire is easy. For Carmy. He can fuck up, regress, and stay stagnant, and she’ll applaud him for it. "Never ever, ever apologize."

Sydney is the opposite. She calls him on his shit, and she sees him for who he really is. Sydney is the real peace for him (how many times do we need to bring up that damn panic attack, the table scene, and strange currencies? Thank you, @chefkids ).

Phew...

Moving on,

The Hypocrisy of the “Carmy Needs Therapy First" Argument

Back to the “Carmy needs therapy before a relationship” excuse—because wow, is that just selective. People only seem to apply it when Sydney is involved, not when Claire is around. It’s the most transparent double standard imaginable. I’ve seen one too many “I ship Carmy with therapy” memes, and I need to talk about it.😾.

When Carmy was with Claire, he was a mess—but people loved to romanticize it, acting like she was his “breath of fresh air,” even when she was just another distraction. Even he fell for it, tricking himself into believing the false sense of security she contrived for him.

When these people talk about Carmy and Sydney, suddenly it’s “he needs to work on himself first” as if the mere suggestion of them together is too high-stakes to even consider. It’s always “God forbid we have well-written female-male relationships without it being romantic.”

So we prefer shitty romantic relationships between the quirked-up white woman and our white male main character rather than the chemistry, character plot, and dynamic between Syd and Carm? Okay.

It’s not about Carmy’s emotional availability for these people. It’s about who people *want* to see him be available for, and it's not Sydney.

Why Do People Feel So Pressed About Sydcarmy, Anyways?

If Sydney were white—let’s be honest—this wouldn’t even be a conversation. The dynamic is already there. The intimacy, the trust, the undeniable chemistry. Their relationship fits the mold of that slow-burn, work-obsessed partners-to-lovers trope better than any other ship that actually makes it to canon.

But instead, people act like EVEN speculating about it is ridiculous, like the idea of Carmy feeling something deeper for Sydney is somehow beyond the realm of possibility. They’ll call it “forced,” “delusional,” or “just not where the story is going”—as if every single element of storytelling isn’t deliberately crafted to suggest something simmering under the surface. Whether platonic or romantic, it's there. It’s genuine soulmate energy.

They pretend their dismissal of this ship has nothing to do with race, but race is an integral part of the ship because Sydney is a black woman.

It's almost like erasure in itself when they deny it's importance, as if there isn’t a long history of Black women in media being sidelined, desexualized, and treated as expendable when it comes to romance. Sydney isn’t “just a coworker.” She’s not “just his business partner.” She is one of the most important people in his career—and even his life—whether people want to admit it or not.

So yeah, maybe people need to interrogate *why* they can believe in Claire(a character who offered Carmy nothing but regression)but not Sydney, who actually represents something real.

Because if the reason is "Carmy's growth," you're bullshitting.

---

Tags

@fairestbeard @chefkids @thoughtfulchaos773 @yannaryartside

[fenkizard]

I beg of someone anyone please point out to me what makes the Sydney and Carmy relationship so interesting? I don’t even mean romantically but like just in any way that isn’t professional? I personally have my own idea of what it COULD be, like I think they have this amazing opportunity to learn from each others mistakes and learn how to better work with each other but I also feel like a lot of those opportunities, in my opinion, have just been skipped. And like their scenes don’t really give me the impression they’re personally close? I thought it was great when they were at the apartment going over dishes and cooking together but I really can’t think of much else? At least that’s positive and like a genuine bonding time that isn’t them trying to make some kind of important decision or just giving feedback.

Like this in comparison to what I can remember with Sydney and Tina or Sydney and Marcus. I really like watching Sydneys interactions with Tina because you can really see their relationship change and what they like about each other. And Sydney and Marcus have that time outside of the kitchen to talk and the moments inside it that really genuinely make them feel like they like each other. It feels like a friendship that would actually last outside of the kitchen.

My point is I can’t think of more than MAYBE a single time where Carmen and Sydney felt like they were even slightly actually close in a personal way. The table scene was really really sweet of course but it just feels like they’re business partners, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but again I beg what makes their relationship interesting outside of work.

[brown-bear-64]

Lesbians will have a situationship start and end within a day, and then one of them will end up as a dictator. Never trust gays with fucking anything

[batmasc]

If you're holding back on being masc because you think you need to be a skinny white man to pass, give that the fuck up. Be big if you're big, be brown if you're brown, be assertive, take up space, be whatever the fuck kind of man/masc you are and stop waiting. Stop trying to diminish your power out of fear.

[lili-kie]

Sylus would 100% be freaking out internally every time you do something even mildly flirty in his midst. You could even be doing some of the most basic things around the N109 zone, simply walking around his mansion with his shirt on and his brain would just short circuit while he gives you a carefully crafted snarky response. His internal monologue would simply be “oh my god she’s my girlfriend and she doesn’t even know it yet. Is she doing this on purpose? Does she know what she’s doing to me?”

This man is absolutely horrendously down bad and pathetic and we love him for it. Watching you fall asleep in his clothes, in his bed and in his mansion would simply do irreversible damage to his poor dragon heart, because his hunter finally feels comfortable being around him.

[surinnit]

Could you draw Mel and Breadhead annoying Ken by singing that music from the Barbie live action movie: I'm Just Ken?

anon you genius

[miscling]

hey so y'all know experienced 40-year-old post-op trans girls are not automatically dommy mommies, right? you're not making your older sisters comptop, are you?

[mysweetvalentine1111]

Sylus loves feeding you.

Whether you're out at an expensive restaurant, curled up on the couch eating takeout, or sitting at the table and sharing a meal you prepared together.

Well, together is a strong word, he did most of the work while you sat on the counter swinging your legs and smiling at him.

Not like he's complaining, not in the slightest.

He loves the way your eyes light up when you take the first bite, the little happy dance you do when you chew, the sigh of content when you're done with your food, stuffed and happy.

He learns all your favorites too, if you're having a bad day, suddenly he's right beside you with your favorite snack or dessert, you think a good day couldn't get any better? He surprises you by taking you to your favorite sandwich place.

He definitely hoards all your favorites snacks, has a designated nest room for what you so eloquently call "sleepy snack time" which includes the comfiest bean bag chair, multiple pillows and blankets, a projector, a record player, and, of course, a snack cart. Filled with all of your favorite treats and even equipped with a mini fridge for ice cream and drinks.

When he surprised you with it after a long, grueling day, you damn near burst into tears as you hugged him tight, quietly thanking him over and over.

That night, you two spent the hours until dawn curled up together, your comfort show gently playing on the projector as you lounged in his arms, hand still halfway inside a family pack of peanut butter m&ms as you snoozed, and in his mind, he swears that one day soon, that hand is going to bear his ring.

[carmenberzattosgf]

This would have been the hottest thing he did in the entire show if he hadn’t started a whole ass fire.

[quadrantadvisor]

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[suiana]

imagine living in the forest and you accidentally get a yandere! bear hybrid who's big and fluffy and huggable because why the hell not.

he comes to your backyard whenever he feels like it, breaks into your house, steals your food and makes himself at home.

you didn't even know who the heck this guy was.

"erm excuse me what the fræk."

"hur hur hur hur"

the worst part of it all is that he'll cling to you like a child. no matter how much you do, his warm burly arms will stay wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles into your neck.

you don't really care if he steals your food (you do) or if he takes up 90% of the space on your couch, what really ticks you off is when he clings to you like he's your boyfriend. like bro, stop it!!! sure you like the cuddles but he clings to you for hours at a time and you can't get anything done.

btw this bear is HUGE, like twice your size in both height and build because, he's a bear duh. you can't even fight back if you wanted to. he'd just sit down on you and you'd be incapacitated immediately.

"oi get ur fatass off me-"

"meow"

yeah, he can talk to. he just chooses not to and it really annoys you because why the hell does he just make random noises???

you even remember one time where he talked threatened to your best friend and it left them pissing their pants. like hello??? excuse me you can't just do that.

"leave my mate alone-"

"wtf did u just talk"

"...woof?"

at least he's nice to be around during the winter you guess😮‍💨 and he doesn't try anything other than invading your personal space and DRAINING all your food.

"fatass bear 😒"

"honk"

[endlesslyhyperfixating]

This Is What You Wanted, Right? – SydCarmy & Subtext

Every time Carmy says “This is what you wanted, right?” to Sydney, it feels like Storer and Calo are straight-up taunting us. Like, "Yeah, you wanted this dynamic? This push-and-pull? This agonizingly slow burn? Well, buckle up." They know exactly what they’re doing.

LET ME EXPLAIN

Season 1, Episode 3: "Brigade"

This is the first time Carmy drops the phrase, and it sets the tone for their entire relationship. He’s trying to implement the brigade system, but Sydney’s not on board with how rigid and intense it is. Their exchange goes:

Carmy: "You told me that's what you wanted."

Sydney:"No. I-I said I wanted more to do. I didn't say I wanna run a Russian gymnastics program."

Right away, it’s clear: Sydney asked for something, and Carmy, in typical Carmy fashion, took it and ran with it to an extreme. But the way he phrases it? It’s not just about the brigade system. It’s a challenge. You wanted to be here, didn’t you? You wanted to work with me? And that’s something we see again and again: Sydney choosing to be in Carmy’s orbit, even when it’s a lot.

This is a great starting point for their relationship because it shows that in order for them to be on the same page they have to jump through a few hurdles or misunderstanding and miscommunication first. They will have many obstacles to face before really hearing each other, and for things (between them) to work "the way I think we both want it to work."

Hello. So much subtext in almost every line between these two it makes me CRAZY.

Season 1, Episode 7: "Review"

Now, things get even more intense. The kitchen is a disaster, tensions are at an all-time high, and Carmy, who is spiraling under the weight of it all, snaps at Sydney:

Carmy: "This is what you wanted, right?"

It’s not a genuine question. It’s a LOADED one. There’s frustration, maybe even resentment, but beneath that? There’s an understanding. Sydney wanted something (more responsibility, more control, a partnership with Carmy) and now she’s feeling the full weight of it.

He told her that her dish wasn't ready (or he wasn't ready for her.) And because she put herself out there, and was enjoyed and appreciated by someone else it stings in a different way for him, hearing the review of her superb risotto dish. Hence his frustration towards the pre-order option being left open over night only being excelled due to this.

And this moment is key because it isn’t just about work and the frustrations there, but It’s about them. Their dynamic. Their push and pull.

Season 2, Episode 8: "Bolognese"

This one right here is such a quietly brutal moment. Sydney’s pissed because Carmy’s been running ideas by Claire—who, at this point, is basically in the periphery of everything going on with the restaurant—and it’s clear Sydney feels totally blindsided. So she says:

Sydney: "–So, I should I also send my revised COGS to your girlfriend?"

Carmy: "You don't need to send anything—she's not my girlfriend."

Sydney: "So she's not even your girlfriend."

Carmy: "Right."

Sydney: "And we're, like, arranging this menu—"

Carmy: "She's not arranging anything and she's not looking at the menu—this is what you wanted originally and that is what I'm giving you–"

That line? Oof. He says it AGAIN. And it hits different this time. There’s this weird bitterness to it, like he’s using her own ambition against her to justify why he’s messing things up. It’s defensive, but it’s also exposing, because if it really was “what she wanted,” why does he sound so wounded? Why is she so hurt? It’s not just about logistics. It's not even about Claire, really. It’s about the rift between them.

It's about Carmy choosing to confide in someone else. It’s about Sydney realizing that the “partnership” she thought they were building isn’t quite what she thought it was. And again, choice comes back, choosing each other, or not.

It's straight up saying all these people want is a bit(or all) of each other. Sydney doesn't want to share his focus, just as Carmen wants all of hers.

This, (as far as I know/remember) is the last time he directly says this exact phrase to her. From season one to two it was a challenge to her. A challenge for their relationship. "This is what you wanted?" Almost always checking in with her, too.

It's like saying, hey, yeah, we know the pressure's a lot, and often you feel like throwing a brick in my face, but it's what you chose. It's what you want.

Storer Knows Exactly What He's Doing

The writers love their little winks at the audience, and this phrase? It’s definitely one of them. Every time Carmy says "This is what you wanted” to Sydney, it’s like the show is turning to us, the SydCarmy truthers, and saying:

"This is what you wanted, right?"

A relationship that’s layered, complicated, built on mutual ambition and unspoken tension? A connection that’s frustratingly slow, where every tiny shift feels monumental? The show is teasing us, making us earn whatever payoff is coming. (And it is.)

And the proof that this is all intentional? Fast-forward to Season 3, Episode 1, when Sydney asks why Carmy is changing everything, and he responds with:

"So I can push you, and you can push me."

It’s all connected. From "You wanted to work here, right?” to “This is what you wanted, right?” to “So I can push you, and you can push me.” It’s all part of the same conversation. A question of choice. Of whether they’ll keep choosing each other, through the chaos, through the pressure, through everything. Despite the obstacles, despite the slow realization, they keep coming back to each other. They're gonna keep coming back to each other.

Because we know that everything in this show is purposeful. It's meaningful. And these significant repeating lines are powerful tools to hint and push us towards what they're working for. It's a question of how long can they keep this up.

And we already know the answer.

So yeah, it’s going to be slow. It’s going to be maddening. But this is what we wanted, right?

[titaniasfairy]

heard you, saw you, felt you

summary: you hate working closing shifts, but when a strange man stops by for a drink, you have no choice but to say yes.

a/n: hi y'all! here's what i wrote for the waitress!reader prompt i posted a few days ago, this is the longest and filthiest thing i've written period. thank you so much @spikedfearn for beta reading this for me! mwah enjoy <3

18+ MDNI

pairing: remmick x female!reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: dub-con!! reader hates her job lowkey, remmick is a FREAK, obsession, manipulation, vampire stuff y'know, biting, blood sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, creampie, reader blacks out.

closing shifts were the worst. you loved opening shift, spending your shift with the early birds who had fresh smiles and always greeted you with a grinning “good morning” was always your favorite way to start the day. you’d get out around 4:00 pm, leaving the diner to be handled by whatever poor soul was working the dinner shift. on a good day, you’d leave with a couple of dimes jingling in your apron and plenty of guest receipts that had little notes like “have a good day!” or “thank you for breakfast” written on them. you could still stop into town if you needed anything at home, the sun still shining high in the sky beaming down on the townsfolk in the streets. you’d get home at a reasonable hour, just in time to make supper for yourself. at most nice of all, you’d be in bed at a decent hour with plenty of time to sleep before the morning comes. 

you didn’t have those luxuries when you worked closing shifts. 

when you’d seen the weekly diner schedule shortly after it’d been posted, your lips had shifted from a upward grin to a complete scowl. despite having begged your manager to keep you on opening shifts, you had still been assigned a closing shift, on a saturday night, even better. closing shifts always began while the diner was jam-packed full of patrons. people slumped on barstools, people huddled around tables, people shoved in booths like sardines, and people loitering around outside with lit cigarettes hanging from their mouths. the smell was abhorrent and always made your clothes smell like burnt tobacco before you even punched the clock. when you’d arrive, someone would always greet you with a “thank god you’re here” or “where the hell have you been?” despite you being on time. your feet would end up aching around the second hour of your shift from the constant back and forth from the kitchen to the diner, your wrist would be throbbing from writing countless orders, and your ears would be ringing just from how loud everything was. 

it would only start to improve by the time the sun had long gone down, around 9 or 10 o’clock. by then, the kitchen would be closed and the only diners left would be just about finished with their meals. all the other waitresses would head home, leaving you to finish the closing tasks. you’d spend the rest of your shift wiping down tables, polishing silverware, and mopping the floors before you left and locked all the doors. though you originally hated cleaning the restaurant, you found it calming to end the night with such a silent task. sometimes you’d hum or sing to yourself just to pass the time while you swept the floors. the walk home was the worst part, your legs ached and your eyes struggling to stay open while you hobbled home. you’d rely on streetlights to illuminate your way until you made your way to the dirt roads where you’d use the fireflies as guidance. eventually, you’d finally get in your door just to pass out as soon as your back hit the mattress. god forbid you had an opening shift the next day.

tonight’s closing shift was no different than your expectations. 

you arrived around 6:00 pm after walking through the dense clouds of gray cigarette smoke, staining your clothes with the stench. you couldn’t even set your things down before another server approached you with the usual “finally, we’re swamped out there.” conversation. you punched your time card in and smoothed out your apron with your hands, making sure to get out any creases or wrinkles that anyone would notice. you checked inside the apron for your pencil and writing pad before going out into the dining room. and like always, you were swamped. diners lined the bar with their hunched over frames, chowing down on whatever special was available that night. people were stuffed in booths, their shoulders rubbing together each time they moved their fork. the section assigned to you was already filled with patrons eager to get their order taken, they’d already resorted to snapping at you to get your attention. during morning shifts, you were always called by a “excuse me miss” or “pardon me”, but when the sun went down it seemed people had forgotten about pleasantries. your night continued with you taking orders and running food, refilling drinks, handing out checks, and cleaning up the messes people left when they got their receipt and change back. your table’s must’ve been stingy, because you were only left with a nickel or two once everyone had staggered out. 

after what seemed like a never-ending rush, the diner was finally empty. your co-workers had left as soon as they could, abandoning any opportunity to help you with the side-work that needed to be done. you were completely worn out from the dinner rush. your hair, which was neatly tied up when you came in, had now fallen out of place and stuck out in places where it shouldn’t have. your uniform was colored in a myriad of stains ranging from food, drinks, and grease. sweat had dried on the back of your neck, your forehead, and various other places, leaving you to feel just plain gross. your feet felt as if you had just ran a marathon, aching from holding yourself up all shift. you didn’t even give yourself the blessing of a break since it was so busy throughout the diner, leaving for 15 minutes would have only made things worse. 

the sun had been replaced with a bright full moon, illuminating the outside and shining through the windows of the diner. you had finished polishing the silverware and sorting them in the back, leaving you with only sweeping and mopping to do. like usual, you broke the eerie silence throughout the restaurant by singing to yourself. you never sang too loud, just enough so you could hear yourself sing along to a familiar tune. you drowned out the sound of the mop squelching on the floor with a melody you learned from your mother long ago, back when she’d sing to herself when hanging up the laundry. those songs would always find a way to cheer you up, no matter how exhausting the night was. the crickets outside acted as your back-up singers, chirping along to a rhythm you couldn’t pick up on. 

before you knew it, the entire floor had been mopped. you put the mop back in the closet, then grabbed the bucket of dirty water to dump into the sink in the back. after ensuring that everything else was put in its right place and cleaned up properly in the kitchen, you grabbed your things and locked the back door before punching the clock. you made sure to shut the kitchen light off as you walked out into the diner. but as you scanned the restaurant one last time, something was off. the crickets had stopped chirping and the silence left in the room wasn’t something that could be remedied with a song. it wasn’t until you looked out the window that you saw him. 

a man, standing outside the diner with his back to the glass window that spanned across the dining room. his hands were tucked in his pockets with his head turned down to the ground, like he was praying for something. his clothes weren’t pristine and spotless, but they weren’t tattered and soiled either, they just looked worn. a set of suspenders crossed against his bag and held up a pair of dark trousers. the shirt on his back looked to be just a bit too large for him, definitely not tailored for the man. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows on arms that looked to be a smidge too pale for the month of june, especially in the mississippi delta. you shrugged it off and told yourself it was just the moonlight playing tricks on you. you felt as if he was waiting on the door to open, his frame was leaning on the window and he kept looking to his side to see if anyone was there. you figured he was waiting on you, so you made your way across the diner to open the door, making the bells on it ring out. the man immediately turned to look at you, like it was reflex. a smile was spread across his face, revealing his not-so-perfect teeth. 

“can i help you, sir?” your voice was just low enough to hear. the man’s eyes flickered up and down, looking at the state of your stained apron and dress. he inhaled what sounded like a chuckled before replying, “that was a beautiful song you were singing in there.”. your brows furrowed in confusion. how could he hear you in there? perhaps you were louder than you thought. still, you were flattered, you could feel heat rising up to your cheeks. 

you weren’t able to get a good look at his face until you opened the door, you were delighted to find the man quite handsome. he looked to be about your age, if not older. his eyes were soft but his face looked like it’d seen years of hard labor, his features littered with small scars and marks from god knows what. shadows fell across his brow bone, leaving his eyes dark with no distinguishable color to his irises. his smile felt human, his teeth not aligned like someone wealthy, with a few overlapping each other. you were too busy admiring him to notice that you didn’t respond, making your entire face warm, now. 

“t-thank you! my mama used to sing it all the time.” you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like a enamored schoolgirl would, embarrassing yourself even more. the man turned his head to side, cocking it while he looked at you, making you stumble on your words. “can i help you with anything? it’s awfully late.” you looked up at him while you spoke, he wasn’t much taller than you. “well..” he looked at your name tag safety pinned to your uniform, the back up to you. his accent was thick but sweet like honey, it didn’t sound like he was from the delta, but he was certainly from somewhere down south. your name fell from his lips, hanging from them like vines. the air was stagnant until he opened his mouth again. “i just finished my shift at the construction site and i am mighty thirsty, sugar.” he licked his lips while he awaited a response from you. 

you looked back into the diner, still lit by the overhead lights hanging from the ceiling. technically you were closed, and you’d have to charge him for something like a sweet tea or lemonade, but you doubted he’d turn down water. you looked back outside to discover the man had moved closer, you gave him another look. “i ain’t ever seen you before.” you weren’t suspicious, just curious. you were used to the people who came around at night, the same people who carry flasks in their pockets and don’t tip unless you flirt. he didn’t seem like them, though. “i don’t come around much. i just want to sit down for a bit, is that too much to ask?” you considered saying no, that your manager would throw you through the ringer if you let someone in after hours, let alone a stranger. but he did look thirsty, you couldn’t count the amount of times his tongue ran across his lips. he stared at the diner like it was an oasis in the desert, like if he closed his eyes too long he’d find it gone when he opened them. “i don’t suppose why not. c'mon in, i’ll get you something.” his face was beaming before you could finish your sentence. he held the door for you as you walked in, you wondered to yourself if he was always such a gentleman. he found his way to the bar and sat down on one of the stools as you walked behind the bar. “i don’t usually do this, y’know.” you said while looking at him across from you. he had his elbows resting on the wood, his body leaning in towards you. on his neck sat an iron chain, slightly rusted from age. it caught the light when he moved, shining in one place then another when his neck turned. he kept that toothy grin of his as he responded, “well i’m certainly grateful,” he said your name again like he’d known you for awhile, not just for a few moments. “you know my name but i don’t know your’s.” his eyebrows were raised as you spoke, intently listening to whatever you had to say. 

“remmick” 

he spoke it like he wasn’t proud of it. his eyes shifted down to the wood, averting his gaze from your eyes. you titled your head a bit, you’d never heard that name before. it sounded almost ancient, foreign to you in a way. “i ain’t ever heard that name before, you from around here?” he chuckled at your confusion and looked back up at you, his blue eyes now clear as day in the diner’s bright lighting. “you sure do ask a lot of questions, darlin’” remmick’s hands were clasped in front of him, his interlaced fingers were thick and his nails were short and worn down. your cheeks warmed up again, making you smile in embarrassment. “well i don’t want to serve a stranger, you could be dangerous.” you grabbed a glass from behind the bar and polished it with a nearby rag. remmick licked his lips again, smirking at you. you couldn’t fight the butterflies flying in your stomach as his eyes raked over you once more, like he was eyeing a meal. “but you let one in?” 

he ran the back of his hand over his mouth after he said it, wiping a string of drool off his lips that you didn’t see. “there’s a first time for everything.” you looked around, then remembered the icebox was off. you’d have to wait at least 10 minutes if he wanted ice. “i don’t have any ice…” the sentence hung from your lips as your mind wandered off. “i don’t need it sweetheart, i’d just about drink anything right now.” you gave him a nod before walking to the nearby sink and turning on the tap. you filled the glass up before turning the handle and pouring out the excess water from the class. 

“i can’t thank you enough, sugar.” he told you as you made your way around the bar. you set the glass down on the wood before sitting yourself at the barstool next to remmick. his hand wrapped around the glass and raised it to his lips, taking one short sip. for someone who just said they were near death from dehydration, he wasn’t very eager to drink the water. you shrugged it off and took a closer look at his clothes. his dress shirt was opened up a few buttons, revealing a white wife-beater underneath. they looked aged, but not quite as worn down as you’d expect. 

“you never did tell me where you were from.” his eyes were trained on you, almost locked on your lips as you spoke. his other hand sat resting on his knee, his fingers tapping against it every now and then. “i’m from around.” he said, seemingly avoiding the question. his eye’s moved from your lips to somewhere below them, staring at what you assumed to be your necklace. you held the pearl hanging on your neck between two fingers, fiddling it in nervousness. the back of his hand wiped over his mouth again. 

your facial expression changed from curiosity to confusion, brows furrowed and eyes squinted. you looked back to the counter, where the water sat. remmick hadn’t touched the glass you gave him since he took the first sip. you wondered if the well had something to do with it. “that water no good or something?” you looked back at him and saw a new man, one who didn’t look like a man at all. his once blue irises were now a dark crimson, hiding beneath his black lashes. he gave you that toothy grin you’d noticed when opened the door, but his teeth had been replaced with jagged daggers, his canines now sharp like fangs. 

“i think we both know that’s not what i wanted.” 

your breath hitched, the air from your lungs suddenly disappeared and left you speechless. you tried to respond but were only able to let out a squeak. remmick rose from the barstool and stepped towards you, almost towering over you now. he brought a long clawed finger up to your mouth, shushing you. “aw, it’ll be alright, sweetheart. don’t cry.” his voice was rasped and low, the frequency vibrating through you. your vision began to blur with tears, making you squeeze your eyes shut in fear. he brought another finger to your cheeks to wipe the salty streams that had begun to fall from your eyes. 

“i knew i had to have you. from the moment i heard that pretty voice i knew what i had to do.” his lips were on your ear, his voice paralyzing you in place. he kept one hand cupping your cheek and one holding your waist, gripping the apron you’d had on all night along with your plump flesh. you found the courage to speak again, your voice only a weak whisper, “what are you?” remmick let out a low chuckle and you could feel his smile on your face.

 “your savior.” 

you gasped when his lips began to kiss your jaw, making their way down to your exposed neck. “i know just how miserable you are, sugar. you don’t do nothing but work all day and night just for a couple of dimes and nickels. nobody ever thanks you, either. you practically run this place yourself but you don’t have anything to show for it. isn’t that right, darlin’?” his breathing sent shivers down your spine, his words festering in your head. 

he was right. you work your ass off nearly everyday to keep the diner afloat but you hadn’t received a promotion in years. your co-workers rely on you to keep things steady but don’t have the decency to offer any help. 

“you go home miserable and lonely, no husband at home and no kids to feed. all the other girls your age are married off by now and got litters of young-ins, don’t they?” 

more tears fell from your eyes, you’d always dreamed of having a family just like you did growing up. but no man was ever willing to give you the time of day, not when you came home smelling like grease and coffee. your heart panged in your chest, still pumping fast from sheer adrenaline. you shook your head, but you knew there was no point in denying him. 

“i can take you away from all this pain. give you a life you always wanted, doesn’t that sound sweet, sugar?” 

you sobbed in remmick’s arms as he continued to kiss down your neck. you tried to ignore the way your thighs clenched each time his tongue touched your flesh, but it wasn’t worth trying. you leaned into his touch, back arching into each kiss and lick he laid on your skin. 

“i chose you to be mine, and i met you there, and you invited me in.” 

a small moan left your lips before you felt it. his lips enclosed on your neck and kissed the flesh before remmick widened his mouth and bit into you like a ripe georgia peach. you felt the pressure of it first, your head lolling back and screaming out in pain. after a few seconds you felt the fangs retract, allowing him to take from you what he wanted all along. he sucked in your gushing blood like a man starved, tongue flicking over the bite wound and making you squirm in his hold. you felt the rush of blood loss run through you, making your vision flood with black spots. you squeezed your eyes shut and anticipated the worst, but once remmick’s lips left your neck, you experienced euphoria. 

an invisible weight lifted from your aching shoulders, your lungs let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding or how long you were keeping it in. after a few moments you opened your eyes and laid eyes on the monster you’d devoted yourself to. the lower half of his face was smeared with your blood, his nectar. you couldn’t deny the sudden pull he had on you, his gaze making your cunt quiver. 

remmick’s bloodied lips were on yours before you knew it, his kiss almost bruising. his hands cupped your face while yours tangled in his locks. your tongues slid over each other’s, interwoven in a soul binding kiss that felt like heaven on earth. your blood had smeared onto your face, marking you as forever his. as you leaned into the kiss, you could feel remmick’s hands slip behind your back and untie the apron you’d been wearing, discarding it to the floor once it fell into his grasp. his hands fell to you hips and pushed lightly, causing your back to hit the wood of the barstool, pinning you there. your chest heaved like a panting dog as his sharp claws played with the hem of your dress, his forehead pressed up against yours as he breathed life into your mouth. after a few moments, remmick’s fingers pushed your dress back to bunch it at your hips, revealing your plump thighs to him. 

before you knew it, he was on his knees below you. he took his time admiring your legs, holding one with both hands, leaving a trail of kisses starting from your calf and ending at the tops of your thighs, then switching to the other. it was hauntingly romantic. your mouth couldn’t stop the small whimpers that left you each time his lips found the places that left goosebumps on you when kissed, his eyes would shoot up to meet your’s with each sound that left you in a desperate need of approval. his lips left the top of your thigh and his hands landed under the backs of your knees, holding them to your chest. he gasped when he saw them, your cotton panties that had stuck to your heat and the darkened wet patch that sat just where your opening was. remmick’s nose pressed against the cloth, breathing you in and surrounding himself in nothing but you. it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench. in what could only be impatience, a razor sharp claw sawed its way through your panties, cutting them from your body and finding themselves somewhere on the floor along with your apron. you gasped in a strange mixture of arousal and fear, the sound coming out of you like a wanton moan. once your cunt had been revealed, his eyes were glued to watching it react to its new surroundings. he even blew a stream of air on it to watch you jump. he let out a dark chuckle, grinning to himself. 

“i heard you, i saw you, felt you. and now, i’m going to give you the gift of belonging.” 

you batted your lashes down at him, now holding your legs apart for him. remmick’s dark eyes stared back up at you, two dark voids filled with only god knows what, but you didn’t care anymore. god be damned if he’s a monster, he’s the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. you nodded your head to tell him you were ready, even though remmick knew he didn’t need your permission anymore. he left a small kiss to the top of your clit before devouring you. his tongue ran its way over the seam of your cunt, then his lips began to suck. it was bliss you couldn’t have even imagined, your back arching off the seat and the butterflies in your stomach beginning to swarm. his tongue lapped up your arousal like it was his god-given right to, slurping up each drop you could possibly give to him. remmick moaned into your folds, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout your body. his lips moved to suck your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves with his tongue every so often. while his mouth was occupied with the top of your heat, two fingers made their way to your opening, pressing into your entrance. 

“taste like heaven, sugar. i’m gonna have so much fun with you.” 

the quiet diner on the downtown street was suddenly filled with the most sinful of sounds, a filthy combination of moans and whimpers. remmick’s fingers had made their way inside you, thrusting at a slow, but moderate, pace. your own fingers were interlaced in the dark strands of his hair that had begun to mat from his own sweat. you ground your hips into his open mouth, making him groan out in satisfaction. you felt his fingers hitting the sweet spot you’d only felt with your own, the feeling even more intense along with his lips lapping over your folds. 

your cunt clenched tight, and remmick knew your orgasm with approaching, making him more ravenous than before. his movements became calculated, he was laser-focused on making you reach your climax. your breathing became labored, chest moving up and down with each breath. the coil in your stomach tightened, your body tensed up and awaited his approval. 

“now give me what i need, sweet girl.”

a flood of emotions washed over you, a wave of euphoria hit you like a strike of lightning and your cunt was gushing before you knew it. remmick discarded his fingers from your hole and used his tongue over your entrance as you rode out your orgasm. underneath the blissful wailing from your mouth, you could hear him moaning against your heat, breathing you in his lungs. when the flood had subsided, he came up for air and rose from his knees. remmick’s mouth that was previously covered in your blood was now wiped clean, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. your chest throbbed with adoration, your head only filled with thoughts of him. his hands cupped your face again, noses touching and foreheads pressed against each other. you closed your eyes and brought yourself down to earth, his thumbs caressing the underside of your job. remmick kissed you softly, the kiss passionate but not hungry. his lips lingered over your’s for a moment before he spoke, “you’re so beautiful” your name leaving his mouth as your eyes closed. never in your life did you feel so wanted. 

you raised your lips to his as a thank you, hands clutching his face. your tongue ran over his lips, eliciting a moan from the man. your tongue slid into his mouth and explored, running it over the backs of his fangs and the roof of his mouth. he groaned into the kiss, hands sliding down to hold your waist. as the kiss began to heat up, remmick pulled away and flipped you around, bending you over the barstool. 

“fuck, babydoll.” his hands ran down the sides of your waist and across the mound of your ass, squeezing the flesh just for a moment. his claws ran over the sides of your hips, scratching lightly and sending goosebumps down your spine. you let out a sigh of relief when you felt his groin press against you, the hard bulge placed on your entrance. you pressed your hips against him, meeting him in the middle. you whined at the sudden loss of feeling, but your thighs clenched when you heard the clinking of a belt buckle from behind you. “i’m gonna make you really sing now, sugar. make sure the whole world knows my name, baby.” remmick slapped your ass light before pressing the tip of his cock to your opening. he gave you a few moments to adjust before sliding his whole length inside you, filling you until it felt like you were overflowing. 

his cock was thick, most certainly thicker than the two fingers he’d given you earlier. the sheer length of him was enough to make your eyes pop, head snug against your cervix once he bottomed out. you tried to let out a whine, but you were shushed before you could protest. “none of that now, sweetheart. this is what you wanted. i could smell it on you as soon as you opened that door.” when you tried squirming your hips, one large hand pushed them down while another gathered both your wrists and pulled hard, forcing your back to arch to the point where you were almost standing. remmick’s lips pressed against your ear, whispering low in a voice that shook your soul, 

“we are going to make beautiful music together, sugar.”

his hips pulled back and slammed into you, pushing you forward and causing you to wail. his cock bullied itself inside you, the tip hitting your sweet spot with each rough thrust. the angle remmick had you in allowed him to sink himself as deep as he could, sending shocks throughout you and making your head throw back in bliss. your head was empty, only filled with want and obsession. “there we go, use that pretty voice for me.” the hand pressing down on your hips wrapped around your neck, exposing the unbitten side to him. his hips continued to thrust into you with deep and rough strokes. each whimper and moan you let out was awarded with remmick’s own groans, his cock twitching inside you. his lips began to lick and suck on your neck, preparing you for the inevitable. his nose breathed your scent in once more, making your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. 

“i can’t wait to spend eternity with you.” you could only remember the pressure of his fangs puncturing your flesh and the excruciating pain that came afterwards. it wasn’t pulling and intimate like the first bite, it was ravenous and animalistic. you felt remmick’s thrusts stop suddenly and felt warmth begin to fill your cunt before your vision went black.

the next morning, the owner came in to collect the time cards only to find the door wide open and the fresh pool of blood on the floor. it was smeared from the barstool down to the tile, no footprints or handprints to be found. he yelled out in horror and alerted the whole block of a murderer. the cops thought it was a robbery gone wrong, but the cash register was left untouched. once they found out who was closing that night, they came to your doorstep and searched for any sign of you, but you were nowhere to be found. days turned into weeks, and you were put on the “missing, presumed to be dead” list that had gotten longer with each week that passed. but you wouldn’t be dead for a long long time.

[brown-bear-64]

The LGBTQ Community has forgiven Jayce Talis

[yannaryartside]

I guy in my fyp said today

“Actions taken by men are favors and actions taken by woman are duties”

And I have been just sitting staring into space for about an hour now.

Because this applies to every aspect of woman’s life. Every single one.

I knew this. I just hadn’t given it the proper sentence.

[irlbeanieboo]

i took peli out to play in the snow! <3