Hello, I'm the Coin sent by CyberLife.

(requests are: no) what are we doing here man masterlist

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy?

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You clock his wistful gaze and wry smile at The Beef’s logo still patched onto the shoulder of your jumpsuit. Worn, but there.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “Let’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. Your heart tightens and so do your shoulders.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

[neatcointricks]

In a move absolutely no one saw coming (including me), that dbh writer you followed 4 years ago has folded for a Bear Man and is back at it.

If you're also a fan of FX's The Bear and would like to catch up with me/my writing style, fuckin' here it is, man. Come hang out with... coin... I need a new nickname now...

[sexymanotddd]

Cecil Gershwin Palmer (Welcome to Night Vale) vs. Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa)

Cecil

Komaeda

Voting ended onJan 28, 2023

Tumblr Sexyrematch info

[neatcointricks]

gang this is a long shot I have been silent for so long but i am fucking begging you to vote for komaeda

if komaeda wins I will spend the rest of my adult life writing your fanfiction

[neatcointricks]

Could you help me with a question about Markus (dbh)?

rootin tootin shoot in my inbox baybee 

[neatcointricks]

HI,,, SO I READ ONE OF YOUR FICS AGES AGO AND I JUST FOUND IT AGAIN I JUST WANT TO MENTION HOW MUCH UNBRIDLED JOY I FELT READING IT AGAIN AFTER LOOKING FOR IT FOR LIKE 2 YEARS OR SOMETHING (GRANTED I ALSO CRIED BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT) I JUST WANNA SAY THANK YOU ❤️🥺❤️❤️

Aweee 

I’m so glad that something I did for fun a few years back has continued to make people so happy!! I’ve absolutely been there trying to keyword search my way back to old fics I loved. I’m glad I’m the same for some people ;3;

[neatcointricks]

huh

oh i came back cause someone on my main account asked this

and i decided i should probably answer all the other stuff (besides requests that is) in my inbox :))

oh also all cops are bad and i condemn anything i wrote that in any way glorified the police on this blog ! thank u

[neatcointricks]

Bro you wrote a friggin BOOK and if I were a liar I'd say I dont want to curl up and cry for hours because that series broke a hole in my brain and wormed it's way in there and will never leave Anyway yes I loved that DBH series it have me meaning in the span of 4-5 hours I read it in

I DID write a friggin book (though I had quite a bit of source material to start *cough*) 

I am SORRY I have given you a disparaging brain wound, I will pay my part of your insurance have your people call my people. 

Also thank you! It’s good to just disappear into a lil fic for a bit sometimes, r e f re s h i ng perhaps

[neatcointricks]

i found your stuff just as you came back to tumblr, weird, but since you loved dbh so much i suggest the game rdr2!!! i adored dbh when it came out and when i finished it i felt lost when it came to playing video games, until i got rdr2. have a safe quarantine - from a connor .. in detroit

thats so wild connor in detroit-- Considering my appearances are so sporadic (lasting a bout an hour and then I leave for several months) you’ve got some ace timing. 

I will absolutely check it out!!! I never got into the Red Dead series, but with all the free time in the world, I may as well check it out huh?

[neatcointricks]

shoutout to the reader from Heavy Metal, who committed arson and faced no legal consequences, what a baller (honestly, that was one of my favourite chapters, I love how you write north)

I LOVE ARSON

Listen, if marvel comics/movies taught me anything it’s that if you are a lil cutie and you save a bunch of people you can legally do whatever you want I guess

[neatcointricks]

wait are requests for real open ???

they are not! I never changed it cause I always have to redo the masterlist link when I change it, but considering I’ve gotten a lot of people’s hopes up in the mail I should probably change that now oooooPS my apollo geez

[neatcointricks]

sooo i just read that one big connor fanfic and let me just-- i love it, i love you, words do not describe the e m o t i o n s i feel, like, english doesn't have the words for it, so my best attempt is 'dfjhdasjkfhdklfl'. anyways, i'm gonna go scream into the void, thank you for this authentic experience™ i loved it ( and i love you !!! )

Thank you so much! I know I don’t post on this blog at all anymore, but it’s always nice to come back now and again and see the sweet words people say about the old words I wrote. 

While I know this fanfic is old and mediocre, I’m glad it’s able to entertain folks to this day :))) we all need a littol entertainment, as a treat

[neatcointricks]

COIN HI!! I MISSES YOU!!! GLAD TO SEE YOU BACK!!

Always a warm welcome from the marshmallow gang, without exception!!!!!!

thank u!!

[neatcointricks]

hi baby!!! nice to see you again!

!!!! muah!~ Missed hearing from y’all :))

HHHH wish I still loved DBH like I did back then and could think of good content to make cause I really do love making stuff for y’all sweeties!!!!!

Even with prompts, my brain is a fountain of stupid. can’t remember why these robot boys had me so entranced. The only fanfic I could think of writing is for fuckin Steve ‘Daddio’ Harrington or Piss Boy Parker and I don’t know if the world is ready for my takes on them.

[neatcointricks]

Well... I don't know how long it's been. A while I think..... How you're doing? Got animal crossing?

IT’S BEEN S O LONG CHIEF

some would say t o o long

I’m doing ,,,, as good as one can?

Getting really experimental with my art, (@soothe.salt on Instagram if you’re interested, all the stuff on there right now is old but I’m gonna start posting my new stuff soon, I have a good backlog of work I’m really proud of), and I’ve also started running/working out cause I miss going outside!! Imagine. 

All it took to get me to work out was the threat of being forced to stay inside rather than it being my own volition. 

Also I D O HAVE ANIMAL CROSSING!! I don’t have Switch Online anymore but hopefully I will soon!! My friend code is SW-6841-2334-6419 !!

Feel free to friend me, or don’t, you have autonomy friends do as u wish. 

THE CONSENSUS IS: I’m doing good, I’ve finished the second year of my degree, my art has entered a Rennaissance, my body is.... healthier??, and the only thing connecting me to the passage of time is animal crossing. 

Let me know how y’all are doing!!! Stay safe out there and for the love of FUCK do not speak moistly.

[neatcointricks]

Is the Heavy Metal series on AO3? I really wanna download it and read it whenever I want.

Hey!!!!

I had no idea there was such a desire to read Heavy Metal whenever/wherever!

I personally don’t have an AO3 account (It’s simply too cool for me) so it’s not on there right now (and if it is, it’s not on there with my permission so zoinks!!) BUT if I do end up getting back into the fanfic game I’ll totally move it over to AO3 for you to enjoy!!

Also thamk u for enjoying my old rambling love for robits

[neatcointricks]

Good to see you back, love. Take care of yourself! - Glorious Squared

Good to be back for what will inevitably be short-lived until I hop back in a hole again and die for a bit. 

Take care of yourself as well!!! Looking after each other???? I’m sorry, I simply haff to stan. 

❤️

[neatcointricks]

Hi!! I saw your post about the sudden resurgence of DBH. I think one of the reasons is because it was free for PS Plus members pretty recently!! :-) AND HONESTLY, I'M LOVING EVERY SECOND OF IT. Lol. I would have never have fallen into the blackhole that is DBH and all of its beautiful characters if it wasn't for the PS Plus deal. TTvTT)b Also, love your writing so fuxking much. It's godsend and is helping with my DBH addiction, lmaooo.

(SO sorry I’m only getting to this now!!)

also that makes ALOT of sense, we love free things :-)

DBH was a kickass game, glad I ended up writing lil fics for it, vv fun, vv worth it in the end cause both the game and the community were just a whole lot of hell yeah. 

and THANK YOU! Hopefully if inspiration strikes I can write some more for it, escapism 4 life. 

[neatcointricks]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!!!

!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank u !