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carmenized-onions · 3 days

Text

Do the Thing | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #the bear x you #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction

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boba-at-323 · 3 days

Text

Stay-home dates with RIIZE !!

Note : OMG !! I had so much fun writing thisssss <333 || DID NOT PROOFREAD PLEASE || Also Idk what to tw but I have mentioned snacks a whole lot of time + I TRIED MY BEST TO MAKE IT GENDER NEUTRAL BUT LIKE SINCE IM FEMALE SO EXCUSE ME ;-; please enjoyyyy !!

Osaki Shotaro <3 !

Hmm, not a big fan, but as long as you're happy he is too !!

Omg !!

You ask him to film TikToks with you and he's MORE THAN HAPPY !!

So like you've saved a lot of trends and dances you wanna recreate with him.

He's so excited and gets all giggly over it!

Takes it a little too seriously…

Like you're looking at him with your jaw dropped and eyes wide because how did it take him one look to literally MASTER the dance.

Laughs embarrassed when you praise him !!

But you tell him that he's too fast for you ';-; so he apologises and suggests teaching you the dance step by step!

The two of you continuously burst into fits of giggles when something goes wrong.

ITS JUST SO FUNNY BUT IN A CUTE WAY FOR SOME REASON

You'd film like 29837209 TikToks and just have fun goofing around.

You might also end up exhausted on the floor reviewing the videos you filmed.

Thinks you look very cute and asks you to do this often with him!

Might get bored if you don't have a lot to do.

HOWEVER !!!

Would love to talk to you about anything really.

I feel like he's someone who enjoys conversing, so you might actually start having deep conversations that will last for hours.

Hmm rating 8/10 PLS HES SO ADORABLE <3

Rest of the members under the cut !

Song Eunseok <3 !

This man is literally so chill with everything.

Like you'd suggest going for a picnic on a volcano and he'd be like "lol ok."

Okay, maybe not that much but yk what I mean !!

So yeah you're probably sitting with him binge-watching some anime or series.

He's quiet the whole time and is actually very immersed in the story.

However, he will be passing comments every now and then.

And I tell you, these comments are so out of pocket???

Like you can't help but burst out laughing.

And he's just gonna look at you like "😐".

AS IF HE HADN'T SAID THE MOST FUNNIEST THING YOU'VE HEARD ALL WEEK.

So yeah be prepared cuz the witty comments he's gonna slip will crack you so bad.

Like it actually makes you question how his brain works

ESPECIALLY HOW HE DOES LITERAL STAND-UP COMEDY WITH THAT SERIOUS EXPRESSION !!!

But it's okay, that just means he's having fun!

Also, it's very hard to concentrate on whatever you're watching cuz he looks so pretty next to you.

Like you keep on looking at him, smirks 100%

"Yeah I know I'm too hard to resist"

GETS COCKY BUT CAN YOU BLAME HIM !!!

Also makes sure you get your share of snacks!!

I'd rate it a solid 9/10 cuz it's really entertaining!

Jung Sungchan <3 !

HE IS NOT ENTERTAINED BY THE IDEA !!!

But after much convincing, he gives in.

"At least we get to spend time together, right?"

YOU'RE BAKING TOGETHER YIPPIEEEE!!!

But what happens is like,

You're standing there tying your hair back, you ask him for help with your apron.

Gets a little too touchy

You have to slap his arm away and give him a death glare.

Pretends he doesn't know what he did rn 😔

Is actually a very good helping hand.

Like helps you out, follows everything you tell him to do, however...

Has his doubts, and totally shakes his head if he thinks smth is going wrong.

"Y/n are you sure it's 2 cups sugar?" "I don't think we should be using butter…"

NOOO ENDS UP GETTING KICKED OUT OF THE KITCHEN BECAUSE

Like he said, he takes up a large radius.

So this clumsy baby probably toppled over a lot of things, making a very big mess ;-;

Apologises repeatedly with sad puppy eyes 🥹

You kiss his cheek and tell him it's fine

Though you ask him to sit it out and let you handle the rest of the process yourself.

YOU DO DECORATE WTV YOU MADE TOGETHER SO HES VERY EXCITED FOR THAT !!!

I'd rate it a 4/10, this man is NOT meant to be confined to a small space.

Park Wonbin <3 !

Would prefer them actually !!!

He'd absolutely LOVE to cuddle with you throughout the day.

Like he'd just be clinging onto you telling you literally everything that happened to him cuz for some reason he gives me yapper vibes

Though he'd appreciate listening to what you have to tell him, leaving a trail of kisses all over your neck.

Also he LOVES your voice so much omg !

So he can also pull out his guitar and have a serenade with you (english 💀).

Would ask you your favourite song, and if he doesn't know it WILL make sure he knows it the next time you guys have an at-home date

If he knows, he plays it for you encouraging you to sing.

you tell him you think your voice sucks.

A DRAMATIC GASP COMES FROM HIS DIRECTION !!!

"Nonsense idc i just wanna hear your pretty voice <3"

Literally heart eyes for you once you start singing,

Like might actually melt, give you the softest, most lovesick gaze EVER !

There is a possibility he ends up messing up the cords cuz you distracted him !!!

He's so cute pls </3

Omg also, the two of you might also end up in the kitchen cooking smth together, blasting a playlist he made for you!

But you don't know that <3

He actually so desperately wants to do cliche romantic things with you but is too shy to initiate </3

It's giving that "Idk how to flirt so I'm just gonna stare at you till you marry me" meme

HOWEVER !!

Be prepared for endless back hugs because he's just so SO soft for you <333

Anyways yeah 11/10 (+1 is probably cuz I'm so down bad for him)

Hong Seunghan <3 !

My manz I miss him all day everyday ;-;

He's so sweet I tell you, agrees to literally everything.

Putting mbti and stuff aside, I think he'd actually plan out a few activities you could do together.

Like if you're going over to his place, hes prepared snacks and stuff for you.

Hmm !! Video games are a must I believe !!

Like I read he plays FIFA online???

SO yeah, if you know how to play, the both of you would spend hours playing together

I don't see him getting very competitive but will whine if you keep on beating him!

However, will also compliment on how great you are at the game!!

HE FEELS PROUD I TELL YOU !!

However, if you don't know how to play and absolutely suck (like me ;-;)

HE'D BE SO EXCITED TO TEACH YOU !!

When you mess something up, or like if you can't understand something, the pout on your lips makes his heart EXPLODE.

Like he thinks you're the most adorable ever, he'd start squealing if his pride lets him.

Ends up attacking you with kisses and hugs.

The game is long forgotten, just a clingy Seunghan showering you with love because of how adorable he finds you.

I'D RATE IT AN 8/10 TBH BECAUSE HE'D FORGET WHAT PERSONAL SPACE IS !!!

Lee Sohee <3 !

SPENT SO MUCH TIME THINKING SOMETHING FOR HIM 😭

Unlike Seunghan, I can see him playing board games and such with you!

For example, the two of you could be sitting on the floor playing UNO.

But that got boring CUZ HOW DO TWO PEOPLE EVEN PLAY UNO !!!

So takes out a Jenga set because he thought it was very entertaining!

Both of you are screaming SO much when either chooses the wrong piece to remove.

HOWEVER, HE'S USING THE SPECIAL SKILLS EUNSEOK TAUGHT HIM!!!

Which is unfair to you and you WILL whine about it.

"All is fair in war and Jenga"

HIS WORDS NOT MINE !!!

Laughs at you because you're definitely the one who's going to topple the tower over.

So yeah you all spend a lot of time giggling and screaming over board games!

OMG ALSO !! Thanks to Anton, he bought some Lego sets too!!

You all start good but eventually get so frustrated because you can't find one tiny piece.

Ofc you give up and spend the rest of the evening with his karaoke machine !!

HE !! WANTS !! TO !! SING !!

And please you're just so mesmerised the whole time he's singing.

Like woah??? His voice is so good even when he's goofing around? INSANE!!

Though you aren't losing to him, so the both of you get SUPER competitive.

RATING THIS A 7/10 !!

Lee Anton <3 !

Like Wonbin, he'd also enjoy stay-at-home dates.

I can see him enjoying doing anything, to be honest.

Like for example, the two of you could just be lying next to each other sharing with each other reels you see.

Or just him listening to you telling him some tea from your workplace/college etc.

Sitting on the bed together with a variety of snacks sprawled around.

Like Sohee, I can even see him building Legos in silence with you cuz this guy is so patient !

Oh also!

He'd pull out his laptop and shyly ask if you'd like to listen to the music he's created.

After listening, your face is the shocked Pikachu meme.

"Woahhh my boyfriend is so cool :OOO"

Get's blushy over the compliments you shower him with.

Brushes it off saying it's nothing.

THATS A FREAKING LIE LEE CHANYOUNG!!

NEways, teaches you how to try making music.

Laughs if you cry about how difficult it is, he thinks it's adorable.

You ask him to delete the trash you've made, but he creates a separate folder to save everything you've made with him.

ITS ART TO HIM !!! HOW CAN HE THINK SMTH YOU'VE CREATED IS TRASH?!?!?!

Plus he treasures it so much like only if he could somehow just make you feel how much it means to him !!

SO YEAH !

Pretty cute, very cozy, overall nice experience 10/10 <3

Thank you for reading reblogs and reviews are appreciated ! <3

Title : Stay-home dates with Riize || Word count: 1652 || Genre: fluff ! || Pairing: Riize x implied Fem!Reader (tried making it gender neutral pt.29382938)

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13eyond13 · 2 days

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Please tell me about art and media you know of that accurately captures the weirdness of dream logic and atmosphere and emotions... books and movies and video games and art and comics and YouTube stuff, whatever you want... you know, where it only makes sense on an intuitive level and falls apart when you try to explain it...

#im trying to think of examples #a great one is mullholland drive by david lynch #also actually some of david firth's (salad fingers guy's) sock series animations did that so well for me back in the day #like you know where something or someone or a place can be two things at the same time in the dream?#and how something weird and silly can have the strongest serious emotions attached to it #and how stories within stories happen #eternal sunshine of the spotless mind #was good w these vibes #silent hill 2 as well and sort of majora's mask #the book orlando #actually you know what i just rewatched a bunch of david firth's cartoons and Pulch: The Good Times is actually a better dreamlike one #than some of his dream series to me somehow #the way it has this wistful tragic nostalgic nonsense vibe that like you'd probably find deep and sad while having the dream #but upon waking it both makes no sense and seems stupid and funny instead if you were to try to explain it #also the nightmarish one about soup or wtv #when the little person gets all upset about her soup being stolen hahaha and then the creepy guy goes 'you forgot your hammer'#anywayssss #many of these things have stuck in my head since like 2007 or wtv idk theyre just fun #Sock 4: Sock Lops is good for the weird narrative jumping dream logic vibes #if you can stand to watch that much 2000s newgrounds edgy animation in this day and age...#p

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risingsunresistance · 3 days

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found a little man trying to eat my sunflower sprouts

#put him in the hills instead. not a good home how did you get here!!#also found a very strange bug. will be posting him to main hehe #but i wanted to share this one here bc. idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#i like talking here more. if it wasnt for the fact that i KNOW at least one person here is uncomfy with bugs maybe i'd share them more :V #bug #bugs

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ohnoitstbskyen · 3 days

Note

Since you did the one video on T Swift I feel the need to ask if you've listened to her new album? If yes, thoughts?

Not a lot, no. With the substantial caveat that I am obviously not the intended audience, it's not really speaking to me much. But I think that album is also deeply albatrossed by the Discourse™ surrounding it, and burdened by Swift as a personality. Every single song at this point is interpreted exclusively through the lens of her PR, her personal life, her drama, her love life, her, her, her, HER, which...

Well, number one, the criticism of her impact on the world is good and necessary (albeit I think it is some percentage excessive relative to the harm she is actually doing compared to, say, oil company executives), and I think a bunch of gossip and culture writing pushback on an album bereft of bangers is both reasonable and fair, under the circumstances. She wrote some lyrics that sound rather cringeworthily whiny and complainy when seen through her as a personality, this a normal response from the culture at large.

Number two, Swift herself has been instrumental in establishing this cult of personality mad media machine, that makes everything she does swirl around her personhood like a black hole. Which first of all makes her bitter complaints about her lack of privacy ring spectacularly hollow (like, girl, you made yourself a billionaire off of that attention on purpose), but also makes me worry that by turning her album releases into chapters in The Legend of Taylor Swift, eras of her stardom, we are rather playing straight into her hands.

idk. I think poetry of all kinds gets more interesting when its interpretation is not narrowed to the lens of the person who wrote it, and I think some of the songs on Tortured Poets Department have some interesting storytelling in them, but the music isn't particularly catching my attention so I just don't feel like listening to them very closely to parse them out and interpret them. I have other, better music available to me, and not being a Swift fan I don't feel enough attachment to her work to push through and acquire a taste for the new album.

Olivia Rodrigo's latest album is pretty good though. Like, I know there's eight dozen songwriters and six hundred producers on it, so it's inherently inauthentic, but ballad of a homeschooled girl and bad idea right? are messy and loud in ways I think are interesting and sonically appealing, and resonate with my memories of being younger. I even quite like vampire even though its lyrics are... well, they needed another couple of editing passes, let's put it that way. Once you've called someone a bloodsucker and famefucker, Olivia, you probably don't need to spell it out that they're "bleeding you dry like a god damn vampire" at the end. I think maybe it is sufficiently implied by every single other lyric in the song and also the title.

#tb answers #tortured poets department #the tortured poets department #olivia rodrigo #guts olivia rodrigo

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doctor-dusk · 3 days

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𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

mr. turner (the car!alex) offers you a ride home on a rainy day. could you turn down an offer from your favorite teacher?

warnings: almost none, age gap, just a bit of angst, most fluff actually.

word count: 3.9k

kinda into prof!al for so long but i only managed to write something now. maybe there's a part 2 (with smut included), idk.

this was wrong. he knew that.

but was it so wrong?

he asked himself that every time he looked at you, sitting in your usual spot in the classroom, second chair in the second row, from left to right.

quiet girl, shy, intelligent, deer eyes that discreetly followed him when he explained the content as he walked around the room, always making a point of passing close to your row, just to be able to delude himself with the sensation of feeling your body close to his.

if he was lucky, he could also smell the faint perfume you exhale dissipating due to the air conditioning. vanilla scent, to be more specific.

you were his favourite girl. secretly, of course. so secretly that you didn't even know that.

little did he know that he’s your favourite teacher. but just like him, you were also discreet.

you avoid looking at him for too long, afraid of looking like a psychopath, or worse, that he would look back at you, something that happened sometimes.

but, oh, when he looks back at you... simply the best three seconds of your life.

you made him feel strangely uncomfortable. not that it's in a bad way. it was a ‘’good uncomfortable’’, if he can put it that way.

he liked the way your voice sounded, feeling like a warm breeze in a cold day. he wanted to be able to talk to you more, answer something other than a simple question that you occasionally asked him during class. the most you say outside the classroom is ''see you next class'' along with a polite smile.

but again, reality comes weighing like a ton. you were his student. his sweet little student.

this was so wrong. but he couldn’t help it. his eyes fell on you more than he would have liked, as if you were a magnet. to your face, your neck, your chest, always with a minimum of cleavage that was almost always covered with your coat. to your hands, always busy holding a pen, writing tireless and useless notes in your notebook.

he wondered what your delicate hands could do besides write so much.

on this particular morning, it was raining. like, a lot. you specifically loved rainy mornings when you didn’t have to go to campus, which unfortunately was not the case.

and now, you were stuck in there at one of the exits, watching the rain fall like a deluge, hoping that it would give you a minimal break so that you could at least get to the bus stop without getting all wet.

you looked at the time on your phone. it wasn't that you were in a hurry to get to your apartment, just the idea of staying there on campus didn't please you as you wish.

if only you were taking a class with mr. turner right now… yeah, the whole world could fall apart out there as long as you could be near him. his voice sounding like a shooting balm, his firm hand holding the book while the other hand was hidden inside the front pocket of his pants. you paid attention to all these details just so you could replay it like a movie in your head.

especially before bed.

oh, if mr. turner only knew what you thought about him in the dead of night…

‘’y/n?’’ you were startled by the sound of that familiar voice urging you from behind, and you hoped you weren't too pale when you turned to look at him. were your thoughts too loud?

‘’h-hi, mr. turner.’’ you forced an embarrassed smile, rubbing your arms awkwardly. ‘’what are you doing here?’’

‘’well, i… work here.’’ he chuckled weakly, hoping he didn't sound too rude, and you felt dumb for asking such a stupid question. ''waiting for the rain to stop?'' he asked, looking away from you and looking at the surroundings.

‘’yea, stupid rain.’’ you grumbled, looking around too, giving him the opportunity to look at you. as always, you were breathtaking.

he thought for a moment before opening his mouth again. should he risk it? well, he could, but he was afraid you would refuse, and worse, end up moving away.

but he had a good excuse. it was raining a lot. it wasn't an stupid rain after all.

''can i... i mean, would you like a ride home?'' he asked after clearing his throat. he had smoked a few minutes ago, so his throat was warm and his voice was a little hoarse.

‘’oh, it's very kind, but there's no need to bother.’’ you said politely, your heart beating like a drum, your palms sweating a lot as you clasped your hands in your arms discreetly.

‘’not a bother, miss. they said on the news that the rain is not expected to stop, you can stay ‘ere all day.’’ he responded, his mind worked quickly to come up with a convincing lie for you to accept. he didn't even watch the news today.

you squeezed your arms tighter. you really want to accept it, but what if someone sees you getting into his car? god, you didn't even want to imagine.

‘’listen, 's okay if you don't want to, i just…’’ he said when he noticed your hesitation, looking away for a brief second. did he fuck up? ‘’just tried to help, i know what it's like to have to go home while it's raining a lot like it is now. besides, no one's gonna see us.’’

the last last sentence caught your attention, and ironically, it was what made you calm down. it was raining, what harm would it do if you accepted a ride from your teacher?

you nodded, accepting his offer. he gave a small smile, his fist clenched around the handle of his briefcase, trying to dissipate his excitement.

you let him lead the way. luckily, he had an umbrella. a small one, not that you’re complaining. this gave you legitimacy to stand closer to him so that the umbrella could protect you both.

‘’ready?’’ he asked you, opening the umbrella, holding it by the cold metal handle while the other hand held the briefcase. you nodded, getting closer to him so you could follow his lead when you two finally stepped out.

the cold splashes of water hit your bare legs as you took a short run to the parking lot, dodging the puddles of water along the way and the wind ruffled your hair almost violently.

but nothing gave you goosebumps more than feeling his arm go over your shoulders to bring you closer, careful not to hit you with the briefcase he was holding. he didn't give a fuck if the briefcase was left unprotected and with rain falling down on it, as long as you were protected under his wing, everything was fine.

you stopped next to his car, he was cursing under his breath for forgetting to take the car keys out of his pocket before leaving with you. you held the handle of the umbrella so he could have his hand free to reach inside his pocket and pull out his car keys.

‘’thanks.’’ he muttered, disabling the car alarm. he smelled so good. a good smell of sandalwood, cedar, coffee and cigarettes. better than you have imagined. ‘’get in, ‘s fucking freezing here.’’ he said after opening the passenger door for you to get in, holding the umbrella again so you could get in.

he closed the door before you get in, running around the car to get to the driver's door, opening it quickly, closing the umbrella and throwing it on the backseat along with his briefcase. he didn't care if it was going to get the whole bench wet, he could deal with that later.

‘’oh, god, it feels like a flood, huh?’’ he chuckled, looking at you for a moment, noticing that you’re shaking. like he said, it was fucking freezing. ‘’oh, sorry, let me just…’’ he said, quickly starting the car so he could turn on the heater. ‘’there, better?’’

‘’yes, thank you, mr. turner.’’ you smiled at him, feeling your body getting warmer as the heater was doing its work. he smiled back, running his hand through his damp hair, putting on his seat belt and you repeated the act so that you could get out of there.

the heater managed to keep you warm, which was great. you could say that the car seat is more comfortable than your bed, you could easily sleep here, and the smell of his perfume permeating the car made you take a few deep breaths, your lungs almost exploded with ecstasy.

you could spend hours describing how you’re looking at the car the whole time, but you would be lying, because you were definitely looking at your teacher next to you, driving attentively, with his hard expression intact, changing only when he pressed his lips together, forming a thin line. his damp hair gave him a sexier touch than usual, his wide-open brown eyes, even though they weren't looking at you, remained enigmatic.

everything he did seemed mesmerizing. the way he operated the car with one hand, looking at the mirrors, or when he changed gears, or when he simply turned on the windshield wipers.

what a handsome man.

‘’i forgot to ask you where your house is.’’ he said, taking you out of your daydreams and you widened your eyes slightly, soon laughing softly.

‘’yeah, i forgot to mention that too.’’ you said. ‘’do you know belvedere? the neighborhood, i say.’’

‘’oh yeah, i used to go to a pub nearby when i was younger, good days.’’ he nodded, knowing the way.

you wondered if it would be polite to ask his age. he didn't look that old. he wasn't, actually. but for you, socially, he was old. not that you would care.

‘’those days are over?’’ you asked, trying to continue the topic respectfully with him, not wanting to sound desperate to talk to him. but oh, you wanted so badly to keep talking to him.

‘’yeah, i think so. when you're a teacher you don't have a lot of time and energy for this kind of thing anymore.’’ he replied, scratching his chin a little, keeping his eyes on the road, eventually glancing at you. ‘’i can barely stay awake until 2am.’’

you laughed respectfully. but you could laugh without respect too, he didn't care as long as he could hear the sound of your laugh and see your cheeks blush.

‘’if it's any consolation, i also can't go past 2am without ending up asleep.’’ you said, being honest. despite being young, you had a tiring routine, you didn't have the time or inclination to go to parties and stay up until the sun came up.

‘’two old souls, i suppose.’’ he chuckled and you followed suit. you felt good with him, he made you feel comfortable. and strangely needy.

no wonder he was your favourite teacher.

unfortunately, the ride lasted less than you wanted. you only had to indicate a few streets for him to stop in front of the building where you lived. a small building, which was certainly perfect for single people or couples.

''there you go.'' he said, forcing a smile. he wished to spend more time with you, how he wished…

‘’thank you, mr. turner.'' you said, taking off your seat belt, placing your hand on the door handle to open it, the rain was light now, just little sprinkles of water falling.

well, you should be more grateful for the ride, shouldn't you? just a small act.

‘’uhm… would you like a cup of tea?’’ you asked shyly.

he had never felt his heart beat as fast as it did now. so fucking fast that he took a while to respond. he doesn't even like tea, but he would never pass up the opportunity to spend more time with you.

‘’yeah, sounds great, if it's not a bother.’’ he answered shortly, paying attention to your face to see if you would change your mind. it was not politically correct in the eyes of society to invite a teacher to have tea in your apartment, both of you knew it.

and as always, you didn't give a fuck.

soon enough, you were unlocking the front door of your apartment, your teacher right behind you, at a considerable distance, even though all he wanted most was to hug you from behind, feel your curves under your dress to know if your body is as warm and soft as he imagines.

you led the way, turning on the lights wherever you passed, opening the door wider so he could enter. your apartment was small, as expected, but it was tidy and cozy.

‘’just like you,’’ that's what he thought.

he made himself comfortable there while you were in the kitchen. he had no tea preference, he would take whatever you offered him. he looked around a little more, paying attention to every detail of the living room and hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom.

the dim lights made the space more cozy and warm, the small plants in the window brought a little more color to the living room, and of course, the books along with the picture frames on the small shelf near the tv were what caught his attention the most. small books of the most diverse genres, but of course literature was what most prevailed, including foreign literature.

he swept his eyes over the photos in the frames. always you, an older woman and a younger girl. he assumed it would be your mother and your younger sister. oh, there was a dog too. such a cute poodle.

it was just normal family photos. except for the absence of a man. not that he thought he should have, he didn't know anything about you at that point, but he couldn't help but think: did you have a father?

why wasn't he in the photos? is that all that you had? your mother, your sister and a dog?

and then, suddenly, he started to wonder if it was possibly worth risking all of this.

‘’sugar?’’ your voice sounded behind him, making him blink his eyes and look away, his hands hidden in his pants pockets reaching out to grab the cup of warm tea.

‘’thanks.’’ he muttered.

‘’no, i… asked if you like some sugar on yours.’’ you gestured and he shook his head, taking a sip. lemon balm flavored, a true natural calming agent. you noticed he seemed a little uneasy, but you didn't want to ask him.

‘’it’s a… cute dog, actually.’’ he said, pointing to the picture with his thumb. you gave a warm smile.

‘’yeah, he was.’’ you agreed, siping your tea. was. so, the dog died. he felt sorry for you, but before he could say something, you pointed to the small couch. ‘’would you like to sit?’’

he sat on the couch after you. the sofa was a two-seater, so it was impossible not to end up leaning against each other, his shoulders pressing against yours gently.

you felt nervous, the silence wasn't embarrassing, but it wasn't very pleasant either. your legs were bent while your hands cupped the cup of tea perfectly. you looked at him in silence, seeing that he was already looking at you long before that, taking note of every single expression on your face.

‘’are you nervous? i can leave if you want.’’ he broke the silence, sounding genuinely concerned that you were feeling insecure or uncomfortable in his presence. that was the last thing he would want to make you feel.

‘’no, i'm just…’’ you said, shaking your head and watching him leave the cup of tea on the coffee table in front of you. but you couldn't lie. and even if you did, he wouldn't believe it. ‘’yeah, i'm nervous. i never... brought a professor here and... i don't know, i'm not used to it.’’

‘’it's ok, darling. i’ve also never been to a student's house before.’’ he sounded honest in his response, wanting you to feel comfortable but not wanting to force you into it. you took another sip of the tea, the hot liquid running smoothly down your throat before you set your cup down next to his. ‘’but i can still leave if you want.’’

‘’i wouldn't have invited you to come if i didn't want you to stay.’’ you replied, summoning all your courage to say it without stuttering, looking at him. a weak smile appeared on his lips, and he felt safe reaching for your left hand that was resting in your lap.

you didn't refuse his touch, your hand rested in his open palm, showing the difference in size between you. his thumb brushed over your skin, making you slightly open your hand, feeling more of the contact between his calloused fingers and yours. your hand was more delicate and soft, the way he always imagined.

your head felt full and your heart beat faster, but you tried not to tremble, enjoying this touch and the way your palms rubbed gently.

‘’do you play the guitar?’’ you asked, breaking the silence. he nodded, too distracted by the touch of your hand, but not so much that he doesn't hear you.

‘’i take a little risk. can't say that i'm a professional though.’’ he shrugged softly. you smiled, imagining what it would be like to see him play his guitar. does he play standing up? seated? lying in his bed? does he like to play more elaborate riffs? or something more peaceful and soothing?

‘’it would be nice to hear you play one day.’’ you commented, and he smiled at the idea. oh, he would love to play for you.

‘’yeah, sounds great. we can go to my place any day, i can play you some tunes.’’ he said. so, was he considering taking you to his flat one day? he gave a crooked smile. ‘’if you like, of course.’’

‘’i would love to.’’ you spoke softly, feeling more comfortable around him, your hand still on top of his. ‘’but... wouldn't there be anyone at home waiting for you?’’

nice shot. it was a good move to ask that. at least you would know if he had someone in his life. you would feel like crap if the answer was yes.

‘’no. i used to have, to be honest.’’ he replied, at the same time you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders, you couldn't be too relieved about it the way he spoke. ‘’but it's in the past, she's no longer part of my life and i couldn't be more relieved than that.’’

you didn't have many details about mr. turner’s romantic life, and that was as close as you could get. the only information you had was that he was divorced. the reason? well, you wouldn't dare to ask. at least not now. you were content to know that at least now, he wasn't with anyone.

you gave a small smile, your hand squeezing his for a short moment before you before you carefully approached, laying your head on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't push you away. and he didn't. he relaxed his tense shoulders, wanting you to be more comfortable. his arm went around you, the same way he did to pull you closer to protect you from the rain, but his hand fell a little further, resting on your side. he felt warmer inside.

you kept your head still, your eyes open and your breathing was shaky because you were still nervous, and he did everything he could to make you more comfortable. after all, you had the initiative. the fingers of his other hand ghosted over your face, brushing the strands of hair from your face, loving how silky they were and had a soft watermelon scent.

‘’you smell good.’’ he whispered, complimenting you in a sweet way, trying not to overwhelm you or make it worse.

‘’thank you.’’ you whispered back, moving your head a little so your nose could get a little closer to his neck, smelling the faint scent of his perfume that was still present on the collar of his shirt. ‘’you also smell good.’’

he smiled at the compliment, even though he thinks it's a lie, since he stayed at campus all morning, smoking on certain occasions and sweating during the hours.

his hand sank into your hair, his fingertips working dedicatedly on your scalp, massaging if softly. it felt like a blessing, your eyes closed immediately at his touch. he smiled, kissing your forehead. he was loving seeing you like this, so relaxed and so serene. because of him.

‘’feels nice, huh?’’ he asked quietly, seeing you open your eyes and look at him. god, how he wishes he could kiss you now. he barely had time to weigh the pros and cons, because when he realized it, your lips pressed against his in a soft kiss.

you felt your breaths mixing, your head emptied, all you thought about was him.

him. him. him.

it felt wrong at first, but now, everything was so right and so desirable that you wondered why you had never worked up the courage before. his lips were so inviting, you didn’t even need to feel his tongue invading your mouth to get completely hooked by him, but you still got that taste to feel his tongue swirling on your mouth, almost intertwining with yours.

his hand pressed harder on your head, just like the hand that was resting in your waist, savoring your curves on his hand. somehow, he felt he was committing a great sin. that he was digging himself into a bottomless hole, and what's worse: he was taking you with him.

you pulled out, sighing softly, your lips were a little pumped and rosy. you opened your eyes, looking at him expectantly. did he liked? will he pull you into another kiss? will he reject you?

‘’i’m sorry.’’ you muttered when you noticed that he stayed silent, fighting a battle against his own mind.

‘’no, ’s not your fault…’’ he whispered back, sighing heavily. ‘’it was good, sweetie.’’

good. so he liked the kiss.

in fact, he loved the kiss. he could kiss you all day if his mind wasn't so fucked up. you were his student. you were younger than him. you had your whole life ahead of you. and he didn't want to ruin it. he wanted to say he was sorry, that this probably wouldn't work, but it was as if his words were stuck in a lump in his throat.

‘’i think i better go.’’ he finally said, once again trying not to be rude. you hid your disappointment with a weak smile, nodding.

you felt cold when he moved his body away from yours, standing up and adjusting his clothes. he could barely look at you without feeling a little guilty.

‘’thanks for the tea.’’ he said shortly, glancing at you one last time before opening the front door and leaving.

you looked at the door, feeling hopeless. the taste of his kiss still remained on your lips, and now, it was tattooed on your mind. you wondered what would become of the two of you now.

this was wrong. you knew that.

but was it so wrong?

#alex turner fluff #alex turner fanfic #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner smut #alex turner x you #alex turner fic #doctor says

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xiao-come-home · 2 days

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Hii! Hope you're having a good day! But anyways, onto the point, idk if you remember since, idk when u posted this fic, but in one of your fan fics where boothill comes back to his s/o's house all angry and his s/o says something nice, which in turn makes him short circuit. Anyways, in one of the details, there was a raccoon clinging to his hair, and I must know, did they adopt the poor guy since it kinda just got swept off the streets while Boothill was in a rage? You don't have to do this, just food for thought. Have a good day, and keep up the good work :D ♡

Hii omg anon THIS ASK LMAO

Honestly.. at this point, if you're dating a cyborg that's also a galaxy ranger, Boothill doesn't even mind adopting the same raccoon that was clinging to his hair for its dear life. I mean, why not embrace chaos?

He'd probably give it a silly name, and forever refer to it as some kind of weird cat. "I love you, son," Boothill would say, sitting on a rocking chair with the raccoon and having it attempt to bite his fingers off.

Boothill's kinda jealous the raccoon likes you though. How do you even do that? What kind of black magic that is? He'll never know...

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #.thirst

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where-is-vivian · 3 days

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Starchaser band au

Any trope or type

Maybe like them being rival bands but they are in a secret relationship and write and sing songs about eachother at their shows

Also maybe the media could find out about it because of the songs or something idk

gotcha.

JEGULUS. 623 words. RIVAL BANDS. AWARD SHOW.

"And the winner is... Regulus Black!"

Everyone was clapping. The entire room was suddenly plunged in the loud maelstrom of noise caused by the announcement. People stood up. James stood up too. He had been nominated in the best songwriter of the year category too, but he stood up.

The camera zoomed on his face; he knew cameras were on him, but he ignored them. He played it nonchalantly, standing up slowly, clapping like a fair loser, a little polite smirk at the corner of his lips. Truth was, he wanted to grin fully, to meet Regulus' eyes. Unfortunately, the latter had been sitting in the back, and James' assigned seat was front row.

Regulus walked up to the stage. Shook a few hands. Adjusted the microphone.

"Thank you. Thank you everyone. I am beyond grateful to be able to stand here in front of you today. If it wasn't for Evan telling me, four years ago, that I could write our bands songs, for trusting me with such an important part of our albums, I would never have gotten this opportunity."

He let out a chuckle, and waved somewhere in the crowd. James guessed he was waving at Evan, and at the rest of the Green Roses, Barty and Dorcas.

Sirius, next to James, elbowed him.

"He's being a bit arrogant, isn't he?"

James smiled downwardly, shrugging at his friend.

"You're not too upset he won instead of you? I know you two had this rivalry. I mean, our band won best performance, but..."

"No, I'm good," James soberly answered, eyes still fixed attentively on Regulus. His stylist had done his aura justice, tonight. James, at this point was not really listening anymore. He was instead drooling, in his seat front row, eyeing the man up and down in his lace top and his pretty pants showing off his ass. He only wanted one thing. Regulus for look at him. His prayers must have been heard somewhere because Regulus then looked down at him from the stage. Directly gazing at him without looking away. James didn't either.

"I've been pushed to always write the best songs. And I believe... there's a difference: between the songs that are meant to be sung, and the ones that are meant to be heard."

James grinned. So did Regulus. Both of their band's songs were meant to be heard... by each other. James knew the Green Roses' songs were about him. And he was more or less sure Regulus knew the Marauders' were about him too.

"I wrote songs meant to be heard. I wrote songs that were meant to be embodied. I think I am, today, lucky enough to say that the person meant to hear them has been able to see them performed several times."

James chuckled to himself, laughing with his nose.

"That's why I'd like to thank The Marauders. For always dragging James Fleamont Potter to our concerts. Thank you everyone," He concluded with the biggest and smugiest smirk ever, knowing look in James' direction, pushing the mic away and holding his trophy up one last time, under the scandalised and supportive cheers and whistles of the crowd.

James now couldn't stop the smirk blooming on his face. He knew the cameras were still pointed on him, and that he probably should keep a straight face. But he couldn't help it. Regulus looked so smug. Tongue poking his cheek, he ended up sliding his eyes back to his band mates. Remus, Lily and Marlene were looking at him with wide eyes from their seats. But the one that said something first was the one sitting at his right, Sirius, singer and guitarist. Accessoringly James' best friend. Accessoringly Regulus' brother.

"James?!" Sirius let out, jaw dropped but hint of a smile on his face, visibly shocked, as James struggled to keep his lips sealed into a neutral expression.

the end ;)

feel free to send more asks...

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #marauders #dead gay wizards #band au #microfic #marauders microfic #jegulus microfic #fame au

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patohabladora · 2 days

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Unpopular opinion (or not idk): Some writers suck at portraying really good characters, and thus should not be taken seriously when they nerf a characters personality.

Like, what they did to Dick, Jason, Tim, Bruce, Damian, etc….

I refuse to believe that the way some writers wrote them are compatible to their original character. That is why I prefer fan fiction.

I want to see Dick be a good older brother (not parent bc despite his personality, he should not be treated like Damian’s parent unless it’s like an AU or smth), cause they made him suck during the whole Robin-Damian Dick-Batman run, and they’re both amazing characters that love each other and should be allowed to show it in the comics.

I want Tim to be a good brother (because he is, and writers make him seem like he’s not). I want Tim’s less than amazing parents to be acknowledged as less than amazing parents. Erasing the issues he had with them removes a complexity to his character that has part in his run(s) as Robin.

I want Damian to be an insecure, impulsive and compassionate, evolving teen (because he is a literal child that has so much room to grow and isn’t just some remorseless demon child), that ISNT WHITE WASHED HES ARAB AND CHINESE LET HIM SHOW HIS CULTURE PLEASE.

I love Tim and Damian, and I want them to be brothers. And since DC is barely giving us that, I think I’ll stick the the fanfics, thank you very much.

I want Bruce to be a loving father, that doesn’t hit his children and has more compassion for them than we’ve seen in more than a few runs.

I don’t want Ra’s Al Ghul or Talia to be so evil when their initial purpose was to help the world.

I also NEED writers to acknowledge the trauma their characters face (that they write). ESPECIALLY when a specific kind of trauma that is shared between nearly all bat fam members (sa).

Besides, most fan fiction authors write BatFams characters better than the ones DC pay, and it’s for free.

#batfam #batman #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #jason todd #I will not stand for Tim and Damian slander #they deserve the world and it’s not their faults that writers such at keeping characters personalities

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scintillyyy · 2 days

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honestly though. while there are some very crunchy jack & tim bits in war games after tim's return to robin, i do hate that the jack finds out tim is robin story was written by willingham in general. because. now we're stuck with like. jack finds out when he finds out tim isn't actually on football at a parent teacher conference & then goes over to point a gun a bruce's head with a bunch of implications that the drakes are somehow this military family (tim's grandpa being a war hero, jack being implied to have served at one point to make the ~tim is a noble soldier~ comparison). and while i ignore all of the stupid willingham military stuff because it doesn't make sense for them in any way, shape, or form overall as a story of 'jack finds out' in unmasked it's very weak as far as actually exploring the father-sonisms-tensions with bruce that *should have* arisen from this very scenario (which is why the conversations between them during war games proper are much stronger).

because tbh i think it should have gone more of a route of jack figuring it out/recognizing his son *in the act* vs him finding out tim is lying to him via a parent-teacher conference. because wrt to jack and tim the tension is supposed to be that jack is with him, but he still doesn't really see him, right? so idk, i feel like jack finding out/being hit with the fact that his son is lying to him should have been much more direct--jack has to finally see tim in order to finally deserve the truth, or something.

so if it were me i would have put it like. i would put it after brentwood & the marriage & the loss of money but instead of jack gets depression, i'd go with jack tries to be a super present dad again (because that's all he can do atm) & he and tim are like doing more? so tim has to use the school excuse more. and so jack thinks everything is going well with him and tim & that they're super super close again. and one night, he's out for dinner with dana when something happens, like the restaurant gets attacked. we see jack think something like "thank god tim isn't here tonight bc he had football practice"--and then robin shows up & tim has no idea jack and dana are there at that restaurant & jack has never really seen robin in action (there was that close call at the rainforest charity thing poison ivy attacked but tim got sent out after the anti-toxin instead of staying with the victims. this is also a good callback to that--can tim deal with his family in danger & not let it affect robin). and like. tim is able to act professional, and dana doesn't recognize him...but jack does. and then they're on their way home and dana is like "wow, sure glad we got saved" and jack is just sitting there silently because everything is coming together. and he's now finally seen the truth.

and i would put jack's depression arc here? like. he shuts himself in his room at first to wallow in what he did wrong that tim is robin. & i'd probably make it so tim is the one trying to reach out like "dad is something going on? you okay?" in a role reversal and then tim leaves one night (to do robin stuff) and jack is sitting awake in his bedroom and hears it & he's been slowly getting angrier over the past few weeks & only then does he go out to confront bruce about it directly. and. i probably wouldn't do the whole 'threatens bruce with a gun' thing, but i would go with a lot of yelling and screaming followed by breaking down into tears by jack. so then when jack says tim needs to quit. what else can bruce and tim do but agree. and then something happens & tim is called to return to robin and jack has to let him bc that's his son finding his calling & being a hero. how can he not let tim save the world.

#jack drake #tim drake #willingham....when i get u and ur military obsession...#lewis when i get u....(2 good moments but overall wrong vibes for the drakes....)#the drakes as they are in my head...i have so many thoughts and stories for u...

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flyingfabio · 21 hours

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le mans thoughts dump!!!

sorry it’s gonna be a picture-less dump because i wasn’t prepared and i only had only my phone with shitty camera quality… also this going to be a mess. first general remarks and then a fabio special part of course… under a read more because i think it’s gonna be longgg

general remarks about the event

well not a surprise but le mans is CRAZY. so many bikes so many people and the atmosphere… you don’t need beer or anything else to feel PUMPED there

the weather was GREAT and i felt it made the experience so enjoyable. i wore long jeans and big tshirts and applied sunscreen and spent time in the grandstands away from the sun and yet my face is red. i have a sunburn on my chin. MY CHIN.

i didn’t feel unsafe or witness anything gross during my time there. important to mention that i was with my brother and didn’t camp on site so the experience can definitely be different for others. there ARE overly drunk people at the circuit and some entitled people smoking weed with families with kids nearby…

as for the camping sites you could see them from the circuit and HEAR them from afar and it is WILD. never in my life i think i would be capable to camp there lmao

so many things to do at the venue: the village, fanzones, a stunt show, fireworks… you can feel how this gp is organized as a whole experience for the fans

did i mention a lot of people?

obviously some things to improve especially the management of the entrances/exit points of the circuit but with so many people at a venue that is not that big i can understand the struggle. maybe they need to think about implementing a limit for the attendance at some point

i had grandstands tickets and it was really enjoyable to have a place with shade to sit down at any moment though i LOVED going to sit on the grass trackside to watch the bikes, especially with the warm weather. sad that we only had time to watch from only a few places at the last turns of the circuit (raccordement, “s” bleus, chemin aux boeufs). would have loved to sit at garage vert for example.. we only did this on friday and saturday because we thought sunday would be too crowded. people literally come at 6-7 am to get the best spots!

the NOISE. thank god i brought my earplugs with noise reduction. the bikes are very loud on their own obviously, but if you are trackside you can watch without ear protection easily. but in the grandstands on the straight? HELL NO! i think it’s very special to le mans where the place is acting like a “soundbox”, amplifying the sound

where we sat in the grandstand we could see the canal+ booth from the other side of the straight. at some point i was like wait a min… isn’t that maverick and rivola out there? and i was right, my bro was shocked i could recognize them from their backs and so far away… also guessed raul, miguel and lin jarvis. maybe i’m too deep in the motogp hole? also recognized the back of a fabio cut-out that people had installed at the bottom of our grandstand but this is a given i guess

idk where to put that but i saw pecco’s mascot so many times i’m starting to think there are actually two of them

also the speaker at the circuit was shit. he flopped so many times

the races

overall good races!

moto3 was good, especially because they were close and there were overtakes for the win at the end

moto2 was meh, some good battles in the pack but the race was over after lap one... probably was the only one looking for tony at every lap and cheering for him. rude speakers saying how he was fighting for the championship last year and how he is struggling this year. bitch it's not his fault that speedups are suddenly rocketships 😭

motogp sprint… it’s better that i don’t talk about it. thank you acosta for the overtaking crumbs

motogp race!! i thought it would be a repeat of the sprint, but it turned out to be such a good battle at the front! the crowd went NUTS when martin and then marc overtook pecco. obviously it’s so nice to get battles like these at the front for the win, but this doesn’t erase the fact that it’s still ducati only. and for me motogp CAN'T be at its best unless it’s different brands fighting it out

you know my distaste for the sprints, but i have to admit it adds something to the experience at the track, especially for casual fans like my brother. for me i really enjoyed friday, seeing the different bikes go around the track and observing the different riding styles. my brother much more enjoyed saturday and sunday when there was more “at stake”. this sprint was shit though

my grandstand was… something lmao. a mix of marc truthers and booers. pecco haters who had beef with the pecco grandstand next to us lmao. pecco grandstand started to cheer for pecco after people clapped when the speaker announced martin as the poleman… you can imagine they weren’t as loud after the race lmao 😭

the japanese bikes… it’s so depressing to see irl you have no idea. this weekend basically all of them (except fabio) were hanging out at the end of grid with augusto fernandez...

the marini case is even worse man. it’s so bad that i think i had left my grandstand before he even crossed the finish line on sunday and i’m not even kidding (many people were leaving just after the winner arrived to try to get out of the circuit quickly)

pedro acosta was probably the most applauded after the frenchies and marc

that jorge martin guy is REAL fast on a ducati i’m afraid

marc marquez is a showman

weird personal observation but i was less stressed before the race start than i am when i’m watching on tv

FABIOOOOOOOOO

as i said last year, he really is his people’s DARLING

but first about his performance this weekend. INSANE. straight to q2 with an insane lap. with fellow fabio truther lady sat next to me we held our breath until the very end of the session… then during q2 i remember thinking well let’s see fabio qualify p12 now and then when he pushed that tractor and it got him to p6 at some point? my jaw was on the floor and everyone around cheered

the sunday race… man. i felt it IN MY BONES that fabio would crash at some point. i knew it when he was just in front of aleix and he was manhandling that bike in every direction just to stay in front. then i saw that he had managed to make a small gap to aleix and i thought “he wants too much and he’s overriding it too much…” next when the yellow flag alert appeared i knew…

it was clear that he wanted to give his everything this whole weekend, no matter how shit the bike was. it was no coincidence that the cross necklace was back this weekend…

even my brother who is the casual of casuals noticed the difference of riding style. said that it was obvious how much fabio was fighting the bike compared to others

the special livery. my god it was SO beautiful on camera and irl… the bike looked so good on the track and fabio looked radiant in those leathers. i tried the special le mans cap but it was a flat brim which i don’t like very much and it looked ugly on me so i bought this baby instead

i was pleasantly surprised not to hear any fabio slander during the entire weekend. when you look at the comment from moto french “fans” on facebook it’s always full of hate (he only thinks about money, he is too “feminine” or whatever bullshit, homophobic shit etc.) even with his special livery (shit like omg can you believe he is a MAN and likes to wear PINK???) i heard nothing. probably for the best or i was ready to throw hands

rins didn’t come with fabio on stage in fanzone for the “meeting with riders” event and it’s understandable poor guy probably wouldn’t have had any question for him

it’s crazy how fabio’s voice sounds different to me irl. at some point i thought he sounded like mbappé 😭

when asked who was his favorite rider (the question didn’t mention past or present, but then the host said well let’s go from the current riders) fabio answered marc marquez is a legend of the sport. also joked don’t worry valentino fans lmao

got asked if he thinks there are too many ducatis on the grid. you can imagine the reaction of the crowd lol. then said that “yamaha and myself are working hard to have two more yamahas on the grid… and two less ducatis smirks”

someone asked him the obvious question of why he stayed at yamaha. answered how he understands why people don’t understand his choice right now, but that they will in the coming few weeks and right there i believed him. this man could sell me the moon

hardcore fans who take this rare opportunity to ask fabio to sign their fabio related tattoo will never fail to make me cringe but what’s way worse is the man who thought himself entitled to ask fabio about his private life in front of everyone and how “we never see the many women who are after him” posted there (do you get the gross implication there?) anyways. the cunt got booed and fabio got applauded when he answered that he has the right to keep some parts of his life private while he already shares many things with the fans

maybe i will conclude on this but going there you understand why yamaha had to do everything to keep fabio. going beyond the performance element which is obvious, fabio’s marketing power is insane. when fans were asked about their favorite brand, yamaha got the most applause. i didn’t count but i think the yamaha/fabio merch was the most worn among fans (maybe alongside with vr46 lol). and like yeah we’re in france so obviously it’s more visible but having managed to keep the face of their brand is essential in rough times like these. take honda for example, it’s like they weren’t even there this weekend, even with zarco riding one…

probably forgot many things but i think that��s enough lol. i’m already missing it (thank god i took this day off to recover) and i will certainly go again in the future!! (maybe not every year because it’s A LOT though)

#motogp #fabio quartararo #elie at le mans #elie.txt #tagging fabio because there is a strong focus on him obvs #then going back to work tomorrow... what if i kms

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