#We'll never create anything better than this

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ugh I love how the Streetkid Chris AU shows his parallels and differences to Kauri so well.

I wonder if Jake may be expecting Chris to be a little more like Kauri, and how that preconception alongside Chris being a little older and having his pill dependency vs seeing the "statue boy" in the rain will change things. Jake is very nonjudgmental so I think he'd quickly adjust to taking him how he comes, but this is a much more guarded Chris than he's used to. Plus Antoni is clearly worried about him being in the home.

Also, from Anon: please forgive me for storming into your asks so soon after you've posted already. but i am sobbing please write a continuation for streetkid chris (if you want to)

Streetkid Chris AU: One | Two | Three | Four

-

CW: Brief references to dubcon, heavily internalized ableism, conditioned fear response, panic attack, meltdown with stimming that causes injury, head banging

The pills kick back in about halfway through Baldur fumbling through helping Kauri to create a bed from a pullout couch. He's had some water and a handful of crackers, in the kitchen. Kauri had pulled him into the living room and moved around the space like it was his own, pulling sheets out of a closet door Baldur hadn't even noticed yet, along with pillows that he dropped unceremoniously onto the floor before he told Baldur how to take off the couch cushions and then pull the folded-up mattress on its metal frame out. Like watching paper, he thought, that you've made snowflakes out of when you open it up.

The twinge of pain he feels when the thought comes to him makes him wince. He keeps smelling something in the oven that makes his mouth water for a familiar taste he can't remember. It's locked tight back behind the white lights in his mind, and Baldur tells his thoughts to swerve away as fast as they can, to make the pain stop threatening to take over.

He's lucky.

The pills are working.

His mind is moving slow, but it's listening to him at least. It's like syrup pouring out of a bottle onto a stack of pancakes, so slow your hand is shaking with impatience, waiting for the promised sweetness that doesn't come. He feels clouded over, wading through fog, but it's a comfortable way to be. It's being good, to be like this.

Like mornings spent lying in Sir's bed, staring upwards at the ceiling or maybe beyond it, without thinking anything at all.

It's easier, this way.

Safer.

"So, there you go," Kauri says, standing back with his hands on his hips. The couch has become a cozy bed, with a half-dozen pillows and four blankets piled up high. Baldur could sleep there for days, and as long as the pills kept coming, he wouldn't even notice he wasn't moving. "Will that work? We'll have to share, though, is that okay?"

Baldur swallows. "I-I don't, um-" No. No no no. Statue boy, he reminds himself. Good boys are statue boys. Silence is better than stammering, stillness is better than what I do. His fingers twitch, just once, and then the fog of the pills smothers his fears and presses them down. The prickling energy that bursts out of him when he's sober is safely held back. He pictures his racing mind running out of air, limbs slowing, lungs expanding just once more and then no longer. "I don't mind. I... don't like to sleep alone."

"Yeah." Kauri's face briefly goes strange, like it's been emptied-out of feeling. "Me neither. Never have. Alone is-"

"-bad," Baldur finishes, in a whisper. "No one wants you."

"Right. Yeah. They taught you that, too, huh?"

"No one wants you... then you're not real," Baldur says. He can feel his handler's hand heavy on the back of his neck, like a ghost breathing against his ear.

"... Shit. I guess even the worst shit was just part of the program, huh?" Kauri stares down at the couch-bed for one long moment of heavy silence, then he inhales sharply and laughs, empty and hollow. "We're just fucking dolls in the toy store for rich idiots to pull the legs off of, aren't we? All the same, come in the same boxes-... never mind. I'm having a weird day." He shakes himself like a dog shaking off water. "Just ignore me being weird, it happens sometimes."

"Yeah," Baldur murmurs. "Me, too. Happens... to me, too." Baldur hears an echo of someone screaming in his mind - maybe himself - but the stab of pain doesn't come. He manages to smother the memory before it can come together enough to hurt him.

Kauri takes a deep breath. "Okay, so. Weirdness steadfastly ignored, we'll just settle in and then when dinner is ready-"

The front door opens, and Baldur spins on his heels, hands slipping behind his back. Position One is thoughtless, effortless, instinctive. He always met Sir in Position One or Position Two, depending on the day. Kauri, though, doesn't slip into any position - he just smiles, wide blue eyes sparkling with a warmth Baldur has never seen in him before.

The man who walks inside isn't that much older than Baldur, but he's huge. Tall, and heavily muscled, built like the handlers who could pick Baldur up like a child and force him back against the wall or onto a table no matter how he kicked or fought, until he learned not to fight any longer. He has close-cropped ashy blond hair trending towards light brown, pale skin, and his own face lights up as soon as he sees Kauri, returning the sunshine looks they give each other.

It hurts.

Baldur's never had anyone look at him like that.

"Hey, Kauri," The man says, in a deep voice that sounds like the warm summer nights when Baldur sleeps out in the park and doesn't get cold at all. Then he looks over to Baldur, still standing in careful position, and some of the warmth fades. "Woah. Who's this?"

"Friend of mine," Kauri says, and he grabs Baldur by one arm and pulls him closer, careless of how he stumbles. Once they get close enough, Baldur can smell the tall man's cologne. It's a good smell, kind of woodsy. Not at all like Sir's, which would feel like it stuck inside of Baldur until it was all he could smell. "This is Chris."

"Hey, Chris," Jake says. His smile is back in place, but it's more polite. He holds out a hand, and after a delay, Baldur realizes he's supposed to shake and sticks his hand out. "I'm Jake Stanton."

Baldur catches the way his eyes drop, seeing the barcode on the inside of Baldur's left wrist. Nothing in his expression changes at all, but something of the fizzing tension in the air does. Baldur swallows around a tightness in his throat.

Those eyes are back on him-

Oh. Jake's eyes are blue, too. Like Kauri's but not like his at all.

"WRU, Facility 001, Designation Romantic 223499," Baldur says automatically, to the unspoken question he thinks he sees there.

"You don't have to do that here," Kauri says in a rush, putting a hand on Baldur's back. "It's not like that."

"It's... always like that," Baldur says. He thinks he sees interest in Jake's face, curiosity, and maybe that's who he'll have to give his body to, to earn dinner and the couch bed to sleep on. He can do that. As long as he keeps his mind untethered from his body, he can move his hips and arch his back and make all the sounds and drift inside of himself until it's over.

"Not here," Jake says, voice deep and gentle. He won't be so bad, Baldur thinks. He'll be slow about it, not like the ones who don't care if it hurts. He won't have to lie as hard to make it believable that he enjoys it. "You don't do that here." He turns back to Kauri, and it feels like light moves behind a cloud when his eyes are off of Baldur. "Where's Nat?"

"Up in her room," Kauri says, shrugging. "And Antoni-"

"Is here," The feline-eyed man says from the bottom of the stairs. Baldur blinks, then jumps - a half-second delayed. He hadn't even heard him come down, even though the stairs are creaky in such old houses. "I can talk to you about something?" Those dark eyes briefly rest on Baldur.

There's no warmth in them.

"Huh? What's up?"

Antoni pauses. "In my room, please, Jasha."

Baldur's heart chills. Even through the pleasant fog of pills, he can hear the coldness there. And he knows it's about him, he knows it. He's done something wrong, wrong enough to be talked about. Like handlers outside his door, talking about what he did wrong and what they'll do to make him sorry. He chokes on the fear of it - consequences hurt so much. He must have been caught swaying, or touching, or making sounds that are against his rules.

"... sure, Ant. Just a sec." Jake frowns. He leaves his sneakers on a mat by the door and follows Antoni up - the stairs creak when he walks up them. They're already talking in low voices that don't quite travel.

He hears Antoni's voice, a soft, Not sure it is a good idea for him to be here.

He did something wrong.

Suddenly, Baldur can barely breathe. His vision is blurs of color, shadow and light. His fingers twitch again, and this time they don't stop. His head is full of a crashing noise that even the pills can't hold back.

He's in trouble. He did something wrong. He's in trouble, and they'll come back down and ask, Do you know what you did, darlin'? And he'll have to guess, and he always guesses wrong.

The games are always rigged for him to lose.

You don't learn any other way, sweetheart.

His breath gets halfway down his throat and stops there. It's stuck, and he wishes he was so drunk he blacked out, or so high he slept for the next few days, until whatever he's done wrong blows over and they forget to punish him, or maybe just punish him but he doesn't remember it.

His heart beats so loud inside of him, blood rushing in his ears. His eyes go to the wall, and he can quiet the chaos inside him if he can get to it, but his feet are stuck right here to the floor. He can't. He can't, it's against his rules, he has to be good, be a statue boy, be silent be still but being still hurts so fucking much when he's scared-

Kauri isn't looking at him. He watches the two men go, thick eyebrows a little furrowed. "I wonder what that's about. Antoni can be so weird, sometimes, I swear-" He breaks off and turns, looking at Baldur. He must see something there. He must see the terror in wide green eyes, the white showing all around, in the way his fingers are shaking, how he can't quite stop bouncing on the balls of his feet with the need to get to a place he can curl up and hide, or hit his head on the wall, until the chaos quiets and he can think again.

The pills are supposed to stop this.

They don't.

"Chris?"

He flinches violently backwards when he realizes Kauri is right in front of him, has somehow moved without him seeing. Those long-fingered hands are warm, palms on either side of his face. Those big blue eyes are looking right at his, reflecting him there in Kauri's pupils. When he flinches, Kauri pulls away, and Baldur misses the warmth of touch the way he used to miss darkness when he lived always under white lights.

"Hey." Kauri's voice is soft, slow and gentle. "Hey. Chris, what's wrong? Talk to me?"

There aren't words. He can feel them, there are words, but they're trapped behind teeth on top of tongue. They shift, dipping beneath the surface before he can get his mouth around them. He can't use any of them at all. His hands move, shaking, to twist and pull at the hem of his shirt, but-

No-

Have to be still-

He can't.

He can't be still. He can't be the statue boy, the fear is too strong. And if he can't be still, he'll be in even worse trouble. It's a cycle, a loop of warm ocean water sucked up into the hurricane. It's ash blocking out the sun, killing all the dinosaurs. He remembers the dinosaurs. He remembers the asteroid hit the earth, and the planet was swept by fire burning everything that survived the strike. He remembers that his mind moves like objects in space, impossibly fast and dangerous, because it isn't allowed.

"Chris?" Kauri's swimming in and out of his awareness. He knows there are hands on him, leading him to the couch bed. He feels, distantly, the softness of pillows as his back rests against them. He knows as if staring from the top of a mountain that Kauri is speaking to him in a voice like the clouds rolling in far below.

He can hear other voices, too, but they don't make it through the haze of panic. It's derailed everything. The pills aren't helping, they're making it worse. He can sense the comforting warm blanket of being high just out of reach, and instead it's all terror, overwhelming, flooding the plain.

He knows his mouth is moving.

He can hear himself, tinny and small and from a distance too far to cover, saying, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't be mad, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I'm sorry, please don't be mad over and over again. He tries to be still. He hits his head on Kauri's shoulder and that strikes new terror, so he hits his head harder, then he bites - he buries teeth into skin that he only belatedly realizes isn't his when Kauri makes a sound of pain.

It's a cycle.

He's circling, he's a hurricane, his mind is dangerous and his body is wrong and it has to be stopped.

He can't stop.

He wails, half a scream that he tries to catch and pull back. The sound dips and drops, it becomes a low, wordless moan, over and over and over again. It rises from the person inside of him who used to exist before he signed his life away and they wrote a new him onto the body of the old one.

He used to be someone else.

He used to be someone better.

He used to make noises like this, before they made him stop. Before they made sure he knew that rocking - he's rocking, he feels himself sway forward and back, his fingers twisting and pulling at fabric, moving and moving to calm the rising chaos and violence inside of him - would lead to pain and fear. Before they taught him to take every pill he was given until his body was quiet and still and good for them, for the handlers for Sir for anyone who wants to fuck him or put a hand on his head and make him choke.

The thick clay shell they made him build up around himself, though, has gone brittle.

It shatters.

He rocks and rocks. He hears the sounds he is making like they belong to someone else. He feels tears, hot and burning as they track down his cheeks, cooling rapidly to drip onto his shirt, onto Kauri's shirt and neck when his face buries itself there. His sounds vibrate against Kauri's scarred collarbone. His fingers are gripped into Kauri's shirt now, holding so tight the threadbare fabric rips and his fingertips brush the heat of skin beneath. There are other voices besides Kauri's, but he doesn't listen to them, he can't listen to them or the fear will rise again.

Kauri is talking to him.

His chin is on Baldur's head, and he's talking, murmuring, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I've got you, I've got you, honey, it's okay," over and over and over again. One hand is on the back of his neck, a gentle weight that starts him falling back down to earth.

He rocks with Baldur.

The hurricane starts to wear itself out, spinning and spinning but the wind dies down. He's falling out of the eye onto the ground. The noise inside his head is agony but it's agony he can hear over and around. He doesn't know how long it's been. The rocking is gentle, endless and soothing, and Kauri's other hand rubs up and down his back like-

His mother-

Someone he can't remember used to do when he did this, a long time ago.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're okay," Kauri whispers.

There are other voices, but Baldur can't hear them or he'll be a hurricane again. He keeps his thoughts on Kauri, on the rock of their bodies together, on the weight and warmth of someone holding on to him until he can come back down to earth.

The eruption stops, the flow of rivers bright orange and red and white with heat cooling to dark, solid, safe.

His bones stop burning, his head stops pounding with the noise inside of it.

Kauri is still rocking.

"I've got you," His low voice whispers, too deep for his delicate shape and size. "I've got you, Chris. Let it out, you're okay, I've got you. I've got you."

He struggles to remember how to make the feeling inside him into words, manages to whisper, " Don't-... don't go-"

"I won't," Kauri promises. His arms are tight and strong around Baldur's shaking, skinny body. "I won't. I'm right here. I'm right here."

"What the hell-" Jake's voice interrupts. "What the hell happened?"

"Why... why is he-" That's Antoni, who wanted to talk, who was talking to Jake about him. His voice is shaking, though, his accent thick and heavy. "Why he is yelling so loud-... you can make it stop? The-... screaming-"

Baldur stiffens.

Stop.

Silent.

Still.

Be good.

Good boys are statue boys, good boys-

The thought breaks apart when he hears Kauri's voice crack loud like a whip against the tile floor. "Probably because the two of you decided to go goddamn gossip. Get the fuck out of this room before I take a cast iron to your faces, you assholes."

"Shit." That's Jake, he thinks. Baldur hides against Kauri's neck until he can't possibly see their faces. The anger, the hate, how they'll be planning his punishment.

But then... footsteps.

They leave.

They go.

Because Kauri told them to.

"Let it out," Kauri murmurs, once they're alone again. "Let it out. Whatever you gotta do, you do it. I'm staying right here."

Baldur tightens his grip on Kauri's torn shirt and starts, finally, to cry. The last of the hurricane falls as tears when the wind dies, draining the terror from him to soak into Kauri's shirt.

"I, I bit you," He whispers, when the words are there. When throat and teeth and tongue work together, finally, to form them. "I'm sorry. I... I, I bit you-"

"No worries," Kauri says, right against his ear. "Didn't even draw blood. Trust me, you're not the first guy to bite - probably not even the tenth - and you won't be the last. But, just between us... I think you're probably my favorite."

Baldur starts to cry again.

This time, it's not a hurricane at all. It's summer showers, welcome warm rain soaking into a thirsty dried-out earth. He cries until he's emptied-out of the fear, until all that's left is hollow like cracked clay warming in the sun.

Like grass growing between dinosaur bones.

He used to know about that.

Someone who lived in his head did, anyway.

But he knows about it, too.

Baldur didn't.

But... Chris does.

-

[queenofdumbfuckery]

So I've been getting a lot of posts on my fyp about Goncharov and Zepotha and personally I think Zepotha as a name sounds more like a fantasy? Horror/Slasher film? Really? I thought Goncharov was like a real film and I think it's kind of sweet how everyone is defending it against haters or whatever

[mantisgodsdomain]

The greatest curse of Us, without a doubt, is the... us-centrism of the fact that we are Us and no one else. Our view on the world is limited and we are frequently subject to the logical fallacy of The Curse Of Knowledge and we're even more frequently beset upon by the fact that some people, like, are Genuinely Averse to depictions of things they've Dealt With themselves.

Like, what do you mean you're talking about this thing as a reason that this media sucks? What do you mean you actively avoid media that depicts things you went through? Do you not gain that feeling of connection from watching people go through something similar to what you did? Do you lack the feelings that are so easy to conjure up in a strong way from seeing a character dealing with the Same Damn Shit? Do you not look at art to feel things?

[shotmrmiller]

cbf!johnny def the, if you still single by 32 we'll get married but then literally interferes with every date you think about having, tells them to block your number or end up on the back of a milk carton, and spends most of his time back home with you.

when away, he calls every morning and night, if able. video chats too. your parents couldn't care less because he's got a golden cross dangling around his neck and says grace before every meal.

good lad, he'd be a welcome addition to the family.

the worst because then he'd turn his big ol puppy eyes to you like, the captain's havin' a bairn and how it'd be nice to have my own little family to come home to, that he isn't getting any younger and you know he means nothing by it but it stings because are you not good enough?

you don't really want any kids, they're not a part of your future but the thought of your best friend, the one you've known since you were a kindergartener getting a wife or husband, and leaving you behind has envy, slow and cruel, crawling up your spine and settling in the back of your skull.

there's never been anything truly inappropriate between the both of you (you don't know that the way he holds you in his lap when in public or wrapping a thick arm around your soft waist is anything but friendly) so you find yourself at a loss for words.

until he keeps sending ultrasounds of the fetus, one after the other and how tender his voice sounds as he gushes over it.

i'd give you a baby, if you want. nothing better than creating a family with my best friend right? only for him to quickly tell you that children out of wedlock is completely out of question.

well, the cute one with the pretty lips and UK cap already calls you johnny's missus so what's the harm in that?

when johnny passes the phone over to the guys, you ask price how his wife is.

what wife?

(i need johnny to give him a swift jab to the ribs, where price is like HURGK i mean she's great. doing wonderful.)

[vetteltea]

Paint the Town Red | MV1

summary: when the biggest rumour of the season turns out to be true, how will it effect the bond between you and your best friend?

note: hello! I am alive, I promise. The past few weeks have been wild and I'm slowly returning to be with you all! This is also my first ever SMAU, so PLEASE be gentle with me!

F1 ✔

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, sebastianvettel, and 704,201 others

F1: BREAKING: Y/N Y/L/N to join Scuderia Ferrari in 2024!

The race-winner from Alphatauri will end her current contract with the Red Bull family after a record-breaking two seasons together. Y/L/N is the first driver to win four consecutive sprint races as well as setting phenomenal wins in Monza and Silverstone

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landoleclerc: FINALLY! she's getting some good recognition and deserves this seat so SO MUCH!!!!!! 😭

scuderiaferrari: welcome home, Y/N ❤️🏎️

pitstopboxbox: I can't believe the rumours were true lmao, who agreed to this?

y/ntauri: @pitstopboxbox she's so much better than half the grid, she deserves this more than anyone else 🤷🏻‍♀️

alphataurif1 ✔

Liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, redbullracing and 404,359 others

alphatauri: After two seasons together, Scuderia Alphatauri and Y/N Y/L/N will be parting ways at the end of the 2023 season.

Y/N has always been a valuable and loved member of our team; as the first woman in Formula One racing to score points on the grid, we are more than proud of all we have achieved together. She will always be a loved and appreciated member of the Red Bull Family. We wish her every luck in her future at Scudeira Ferrari.

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redbullracing: thank you for everything, Y/N! 💙❤️

lechairalonso: you all never deserved her, we know what was said about her! Y/N TO FERRARI!!!!!!!!

scuderiaferrari: we'll take good care of our girl! ❤️

yourusername ✔

Liked by danielricciardo, gerihalliwell, carlossainz55 and 695,481 others.

yourusername: After an incredible two years and discussions with Franz Tost, Christian Horner and Adrian Newey, I have come to the decision to leave Scuderia Alphatauri at the end of the 2023 season.

Racing has and will always be an incredibly huge part of my life; I will forever be grateful for the opportunity given to me by Alphatauri and the passion and energy I have been able to put into one of the most important things in my life. Franz has been a leader and a legend, Yuki my best friend and the entire team here and back home are phenomenal.

Whilst I am sad to leave behind a legacy created, I am proud to take my next steps into the future as a Scuderia Ferrari driver. This has been a dream of mine ever since I was a child and I cannot wait to fufill the wish that my younger self desired for so long. I want to thank everyone for your love and support along the way and I hope to make you all proud.

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ynarmy: onward and upwards! we can't wait to see your NEXT adventure! 🏎❤️

yukitsunoda0511: I'll miss you forever, keeping your seat warm always! 🤍

redbullsupermax: ain't no way Y/N is winning anything now, this was her best bet as a woman lmao.

sainztsunoda: @redbullsupermax PLSSSS and ur PFP is literally a cheater lMAO 😂😭

f1gossip

Liked by landonorris, ynverstappenarmy, scuderiapapaya and 24,503 others.

f1gossip: Has the Y/L/N transfer to Ferrari caused issues already? Eagle-Eyed fans among the sport spotted that Three-Time World Champion, Max Verstappen, has UNFOLLOWED Y/N. 

The two have been known for having an incredibly strong relationship on the grid and Verstappen has mentioned to the press multiple times that he believes Y/N would be a suitable driver for Red Bull. The two have known one another since their racing in Formula 3. Has this move to Ferrari caused strain on this friendship?

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oconredflags: there's no way that something like this could split them up? they've been friends for SO long? 😭❤️

ferrarilover1655: nah I'm sorry, max is salty that she's moving onto better things. she has every right to be happy and he should be supporting her

vettellovers: @ferrarilover1655: she's literally moving to FERRARI. WORST MOVE EVER. 😂😂😭

astonalonso: LANDO IN THE LIKES BRUUUUUUH. 👀👀

scuderiaferrari ✔

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, sebastianvettel and 849,204 others.

scuderiaferrari: The future is red. Say hello to the SF-24, designed and built in Maranello.

view all comments

raybans: we're painting the town red in 2024!

yourusername: 🏎️❤️

vettelschumacher: Y/N is going to be the greatest thing that's happened to this team in SO long

liked by charles_leclerc

sffanpage

liked by papayasainz, beforrealistic, maranellomadness and 56,301 others.

sffanpage: Charles Leclerc and Y/N Y/L/N at Maranello for the SF-24 Launch today! Y/N visited the museum before the official launch and the two were seen leaving the event at the same time after stopping to speak to fans!

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papayasainz: they look like they'll make SUCH a good team? They had so much banter during the launch I LOVE LOVE THE VIBE ❤️😭❤️😭

louisaferrari44: @papayasainz RIGHT? when Charles was welcoming her too and they were giggling when Fred came on, ICONIC 😅

ferrariofficialfanpages: we've need something fresh for so long and I'm so excited that this is happening 🤍❤️🏎

supermaxredbull: I give it 2 races and she'll be done lmao

yourusername ✔

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, f1 and 703,402 others.

yourusername: The SF-24 is here and I am so excited! Such a beautiful car built by an incredible team. I hope I can do you all proud this year!

Thank you to everybody who came out to support the team; I feel so welcome and loved and I cannot wait to begin this season on a high! Forza Ferrari! ❤️🏎

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f1: we can't wait to see you on track in red!

ferrarifans16: SHE'S HERE! OH MY GOD SHE LOOKS SO GOOD AND I'M NOT READY!!!!!

charles_leclerc: welcome to the family! ❤️

liked by yourusername

maranellomadness: Y/N IS ABOUT TO REVIVE US ARE WE ALL READY?????

charles_leclerc ✔

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, landonorris and 894,402 others

charles_leclerc: SF-24 Launch was incredibleeeee 🤩

Thank you to all the fans and the love in Maranello today, I can't wait to get behind the wheel and bring us some memories and points. ❤️

view all comments

yourusername: forza charles! ❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

sffanpage: good luck this season Charles! we can't wait to see you bring home all the points!!

vettelalonso: CHARLES IN RED WILL ALWAYS BE MY ROMAN EMPIRE 😍😍😍

[kcrossvine-art]

hi friends! :D y'all voted and fought neck and neck for this SO- heres the first entry into our little cooking journey of J. R. R. Tolkeins fictional food for his fictional little guys he puts in fictional turmoils for our enjoyment and awe!

 Before we get started i wanna say i owe my heart to all the LotR fans who upkeep the wiki, debate the cannon, and create their own versions of the foods mentioned. Both because of my love for people who LOVE (passionate people)(passion about anything) and because my own knowledge of this series is a little dusty. I've never seen the movies but I did read the books growing up. I'll be learning and remembering things from a fairly newbie standpoint, so no worries if you yourself arent familiar with the series! (and if you are familiar, hopefully youll forgive me!)

We will be making Lembas ('waybread') today! If you've made your own version of this please feel free to share it, similarly if you have any ideas for what we make next!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to Lembas?” YOU MIGHT ASKWell so the funny thing is we kinda dont know. At least not entirely? The elves are dicks like that. But heres what we'll be using in ours-

Butter

Self-rising flour

Granulated Sugar

Raisins

A small dried fruit of your choosing

Almonds OR Pecans

EGG

Whole Milk

Heavy Cream

And if you would like for dipping-

Blackberry jam

To the extent i understand this is kinda like hardtack from the bri'ish military, but a fantastical version of it that actually tastes really good. Hardtack was a military provision with the texture of a brick that took a long time to spoil and could be easily carried with soldiers. So the texture we're going for is super dense, packed full with nuts and fruits (haha just lik-), but perhaps not that dense. We want something closer to a dog biscuit than actual tack.

I remembered something about corn being mentioned, thankfully the wiki clarified that no actually the british just referred to any grain as corn back in the day. Thank Fuck! Although I would like to try a version of this using masa in the future.

AND, “what does Lembas taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Took a few tries but eventually got it perfectly chewy and dense

The raisins cook-in like little beads of flavortown sweetness

Cant speak for other fruits but for dried apple it softened up nicely, kinda matching the raisins in the end

Im a big pecan slut, pecans fuck on anything especially here. Crumble them on top after you coat the dough with the egg-mixture for some visual appeal

Somewhat flakey outside

The jam was my idea, it was nice but might be too sweet for some tastes

Would pair very well with a kiwi flavored drink

Or mead

I can see why this would a travelling provision. Its both sugary (a good thing when expending energy) and filling (also a good thing when youre travelling) while not being overwhelming with flavor (if youre prone to motion sickness. Horse sickness? Do get motion sickness on horses?)

Its like how if you're going hiking you want a good mix of sugars and salts, to balance your intake of water.

. If you wanna make it like the illustrations or the movie, use a cookie cutter for either triangles or squares . If you don't have a cookie cutter, an apple cutter also works ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . try to keep the board you'll roll the dough out onto chilled before you use it, it seems better for the texture of the food though i dont entirely know why

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So from beginning to end, it took about an hour and half for the first attempt. Down to about 40 minutes for the second attempt. These are a real simple recipe because its not like a croissant where the margin for error is nonexistent. Middle-earth be damned my boy can work a grill.

I'd recommend storing in a tubberware container, but if you're deadset on using leaves please rinse and dry them first, and wrap the bread in either wax paper or saran wrap underneath. We dont have mallorn leaves in real life (as far as we know) but most salad greens should work, or as Marie Porter says (linked in the reblogs!) a banana leaf.

I really enjoyed the process of making this recipe, itd be really easy to batch-bake these en masse, and the process of eating said recipe. Like all jokes aside, i think this would be a great substitute for trailmix. Its not going to get smushed and even if it breaks a bit it wont affect the taste. It wont keep you fed for a whole day but pair it with some pickles or a salty snack and yeah itll keep your motor running.

I give this recipe a solid 10/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Let me know if you think I got something wrong, or if you ran into issues with the recipe. We're off to a strong start, lads!

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

6 TBSP butter, chilled

2 cups self-rising flour

1 TBSP granulated sugar

½ cup raisins

½ other dried fruit (strawberry slices, oranges, etc.), chopped

Handful of almonds or pecans, chopped

1 egg, well beaten

½ cup whole milk

4 TBSP heavy cream

Method:

Preheat your oven to 400 f.

Cut the butter into slivers/small pieces. With your hands, combine the butter into the flour in a mixing bowl until the mixture resembles coarse sand.

Chop your dried nuts and dried fruit until it feels right.

Mix in the sugar, raisins, nut, and dried fruit of your choosing

In a seperate bowl, beat the egg until combined, and then mix in the milk until combined. Keep a bit of this mixture to brush the tops of the bread.

Stir while adding the egg/milk mixture and the heavy cream into the flour. Mix just until combined into a soft dough.

Knead the dough until firm on a floured surface.

Roll into a half inch thickness and cut with a square or leaf shaped cookie cutter. (...or in my case, an apple corer).

Place on a lightly greased baking sheet, with about an inch of space between each piece. Brush the tops of the lembas with some of the mixture you saved earlier.

Bake for about 15-20 minutes, or until it turns a soft gold and the inside is chewy.

[dreadsuitsamus]

nsfw, fem!reader, breeding and ozai being ozai

Guarding the former Fire Lord, even with his inability to bend anymore, is daunting. Though a prisoner, Ozai is still intimidating and dangerous, those muscles not simply for display. There aren't many guards willing to take on the task of keeping a watchful eye on him for even a single shift, let alone during all of their working hours. Your bravery and resilience is rewarded with handsome payment, though by now, you'd do it for free! There are certain... benefits that have come with your position.

"Ah, ah— Mm! My Lord, oh, yes...!" You throw your head back onto Ozai's pillows, his time spent as a political advisor to his son having offered him a nicer cell than a typical prisoner would have, thanks to the leverage he still holds over the young man. Ozai has your limber legs spread wide against the mattress, your toes touching the headboard as the man above you plows into you with vigor, his cock reaching places inside of you that you never knew existed before fate brought you directly to him.

Ozai hisses, his grip tightening around your ankles. "That's it... Take it. Take my cock, my power, my all. You'll give me a new heir, one that will be perfect, one that won't fail me like the others! You'll do this for your King, without fail!" He spits out, the excited luster of his ideals getting him off as much as the way your slickened walls grip his shaft and beg to be filled once again, as he has every night for several months now. Whether you're on duty or sneaking into his chamber, you take your Lord's seed and humbly await the night you'll fall pregnant and kick his plans into gear. He cannot bend fire anymore, but his theory rests on your firebending abilities and his genetics to create a child that can bend, and be the very best.

Zuko was a failure from the very beginning, and Azula's demise must surely stem from her mother, a woman never loyal to the Fire Nation and Ozai himself. This heir will be the one to make him proud.

"Breed me, my Lord! It is my duty, my destiny to bear your child! Together, we shall restore your honor, your legacy, with our children."

Ozai's grin is maniacal, his laugh sinister as he lowers himself to speak directly into your ear. "You're getting ahead of yourself, aren't you? You've yet to give me one heir, let alone multiple!"

"The solstice is nearly upon us." You pant, a mewling whimper breaking your concentration as your Lord twists your nipples that will one day feed his child and help him to become strong.

"And...?" Ozai's strong fingers squeeze the sensitive buds harder, grinning at how pleasurable you find his pain to be.

"T-There will be no better time to fall pregnant, my King. Our child will be strong, guided by the stars to take back what is yours!"

"Oh, really? So do you suggest I'm wasting my time now then?" Ozai begins to pull away, only slipping out a mere fraction of his slick-coated dick before your fingers, small and soft and so breakable like the rest of you, are threading into his hair. Amused, Ozai pauses with a raised brow and cocky smirk on his lips. "What's this, hm?"

"My Lord— My love." You breathe out, sneaky legs snaking around his trim waist to summon him back into his fully-seated position. "Please..."

"Please what?" He hisses, those strong arms slipping around your waist tightly in what's nearly a darling embrace, though he still remains only partially inside of your cunt. "Are you simply here tonight as my whore?"

"For you, I am anything." Your chest heaves, beads of sweat prickling you from head to toe. "The mother of your proper heir, the one that sees to your exemplary care... Your courtesan, your lover... Your wife, if you'd have me."

Ozai's large hand, one you'd still not fear even with his power intact, comes to rest at the side of your face. "Provide me a firstborn son that can firebend, and then we'll discuss a permanent relationship."

Your much smaller hand covers his, hopeful tears welling in your eyes. "I won't let you down, Phoenix King Ozai."

"See to it that you don't." Ozai's lips capture yours in a rare kiss, and he again rocks his hips to yours, soon filling you to the brim with seed that takes, settling deep into your womb to create the child that will swell your belly with his pride.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Choices

I'm currently in the middle of flying overseas for my schl's exchange trip and yes I typed this all out whilst turbulence was crazy it was not a fun experience.

Summary: You and Astarion talk the night before you confront Cazador

"I thought you did your brooding in your tent."

"Sometimes, my dear, a change of scenery is good for brooding." He looks up at you, shifting to the right a little. You sit down in the spot created, legs dangling over the edge just like his. His shoulder gently brushes against yours as he turns his gaze back to the sprawling city that is Baldur's Gate. You follow the direction of his gaze, taking in the flickering lights of the city at night and breathe in the crisp cool air.

"So, what's the brooding about on this fine night?" You turn to look at him, admiring the way his curls gently sway in the breeze, the way the moonlight highlights the silver of his hair. He was always beautiful, elegant, handsome, all at the same time, with that hint of sorrow in his ruby red eyes. The same pair of eyes shift to rest on you, taking in your splendour and searches for a way to put his thoughts into words. He isn't even sure what the brooding is about today, all he knows is that he wanted some time away from camp, away from the rest of the party and their energy so that he can take in what will happen tomorrow. He wasn't expecting any company, the others knew better than to disturb him but yours is a welcomed one, lest his thoughts drown him.

"Everything, I suppose." He hums, turning back to look at the city again. It's been a while since he's set foot in those streets, and the last time he was here he was a slave to Cazador, prowling the streets at night for naive prey. Now he's back, free from Cazador's control, free to walk in the same streets in the sun, free to do whatever he wanted. He couldn't be forced to bow to someone else's whims, he was his own person and could choose his own path, as you had told him many times over. Sometimes, he still struggles to comprehend that, he's been a slave for so long that thinking about himself is something long lost to him, but you're patient, catching him when he falls along the way, never demanding anything of him.

"It's been a while since we were last here." You nod. "It is a lot to take in, so many things have changed."

"Everything has changed." He whispers, but you catch his words. Resting your hand on top of his, you give it a gentle squeeze followed by a soft smile of reassurance, the silent promise reaffirmed. He blinks, slowly, and returns the smile, a smile he only ever shows you. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Neither would I." You agree. "I like the change."

"If you keep complimenting me like that, my love, I will have to return the favour." He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"

When he leans in closer, you start blushing. His lips are a hair breadth's away from yours, tantalizingly close yet so far and you yearn to close the gap but you wait for him to make the move. He pauses, seeking your approval before closing the gap, feeling the softness of your lips, your sweet taste flooding his mouth. His kiss is gentle, filled with yearning and uncertainty, just like his current turmoil of emotions. You kiss back, never wanting to let him go but your need for air forces you to and the both of you part unwillingly.

"Tomorrow we confront Cazador," he murmurs.

"We do. Together." You say firmly. "You're not doing this alone, we'll all be right there by your side."

He gives you a sad smile, "I still…I still worry. I don't know if I can do this, if I can fight him."

"If you can't, we'll fight him on your behalf. Don't worry, we'll make sure he pays dearly." You feel an anger burn deep within you at the vampire lord, swearing vengeance on him for Astarion's sake, but you also know in the end, Astarion will have to be the one dealing the final blow, or Cazador will have him forever, even in true death. It doesn't matter if your party manages to defeat Cazador without Astarion, if Astarion doesn't defeat Cazador, it will all have been for naught.

"But what if Cazador tells them about all the things I've done? What if that causes them to turn on me? You and I can't win that fight." His hands tremble, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "What if Cazador still has control over me and forces me to attack you?"

"Then we'll make sure none of those come to pass."

"He's a vampire lord, Y/N! He's powerful, terrifying, he —"

"Isn't the worst thing we have and will face. We've stared down one of the Dead Three and we know we have to defeat an elder brain controlled by the Crown of Karsus, Cazador is nothing compared to them. If we can survive a fight with Myrkul and emerge victorious, we can defeat Cazador before he gets the chance to open that damned hole he calls a mouth." You snarl out the last part, much to Astarion's surprise. His lip quivers and he feels tears start to stream down his face, the liquid quickly cooling in the night air. His shoulders start shaking with silent sobs and you panic. This was not the reaction you wanted out of him, this was far from the reaction you were looking for.

"I'm sorry Astarion! I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry, I —" Before you can blabber on, he wraps his arms around you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder, effectively silencing you.

"You didn't say anything wrong. You said everything perfectly, like you always do." He sniffs, adjusting his hug. He buries a hand in your hair whilst the other rests on your back. "You're always full of surprises."

"Well, that is one of my strengths," you smile, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. You return the hug, nuzzling into his hair and simply hold him while he lets everything out.

Astarion cannot deny that he's still worried about facing Cazador, that the very thought sends his undead heart thundering in his chest. In his two hundred years under Cazador, not once had he ever thought about standing against Cazador, all that fight had been long beaten out of him, but that all changed when you crashed into his life, dragging a few others along with you. To think that one day, he would find the courage to fight Cazador alongside people he considered friends (to a certain degree), that he would find someone he wanted to devote his life to. If he told his past self about this, his past self would have scorned him, told him to stop dreaming and face the reality of an eternal life as Cazador's puppet. But this was real, all this was real. He wasn't dreaming, he was in reality, a reality he had thought was long lost to him.

Your warmth washes over him, anchoring him in the reality that is his. When the sun dips below the horizon tomorrow, the future will be his to dictate. His and his alone. Looking into your eyes that hold so much love for him, he decides right there and then. He chooses to have you in the future that awaits him, he chooses to forge a future where the both of you can be together, unbound by fear.

He chooses you.

[ofswordsandpens]

just finished episode 6…. truly don’t know how to feel about these changes. would love to know your thoughts bc i’m just kinda baffled by some changes tbh

Mixed feelings as always:

Percy's dream slapped. I loved Kronos's actor. It felt perfectly eery. No notes.

No percabeth late night convo on the truck. This doesn't surprise me given we sort of did that on the train already, but now there's just another iconic book moment that we'll get bits and pieces of, but never actually get to see in its entirety/original setting.

I did vibe with the glass prism tool for the iris message and it was pretty cool. The Percy + Annabeth argument was great but I'm gonna be honest, Luke being like "you're arguing like an old married couple" was laying it on a tad thick to me idk idk. I know I'll probably be in the minority there lol but I think it would have liked the line better if Percy and Annabeth got more embarrassed to his statement but they both reacted to it like :/ so it just felt heavy handed on the show runners part more than anything

Lotus Hotel vibes? Lackluster. Uninspired. It just didn't capture that outrageous paradise for kids feeling from the book because they turned it into Hermes' hangout so there's a whole bunch more adults than kids. Basically felt like if you took the movie's version and turned down the energy of it by a mile lmao. (Which is also ironic given RR's post about it today).

And of course the kids immediately know what's happening so like. No fun mystery. No Percy figuring it out. Just them being like "omg we need to be careful" and then immediately separating from Grover lmao.

Okay. LMM's Hermes.... it wasn't bad. Thankfully there was no singing. He was fine. It's more or less that turning the Lotus story line into a Hermes' storyline was like an "okay, I guess we're doing this" thing. I mean I guess we finally introduced something for the non-book reader's to pick up on that Luke might not have the best relationship with his dad (and consequently the gods). But like, nothing about this storyline is something that isn't introduced later on in the books. Nor was it better or more interesting than the original lotus storyline in the books.

Again, its the constant replacement of everything fun and silly and absurd in the book and turning it into a very serious moment, is just like, killing the energy. Seriousness is good. Silliness is also good. The book balanced it greatly. The show struggles here.

Glad we got a Pan mention tho!! Finally!

But um 4 pearls, so no dilemma about who to save. A part of me is relieved because the show's created like 3 other sacrifice convo scenarios so its gotten bit reductive, but Sally being a part of the equation is an entirely different dynamic and now that dilemma is theoretically gone. (unless he loses one of the pearls?)

And Percy's missed the deadline?? Right?? So like? I really don't know what we're doing anymore. In the book the deadline was pretty strict lol. Here I guess the deadline was like, a loose suggestion? Percy's walking into the middle of the god's battle field with master bolt in his hand? Idk.

Overall things in the show feel messy and way less cohesive. They seem to know that certain things from the book are important but not necessarily why, or they'll introduce events or plot points strangely late or way too early.

[back2bluesidex]

Call Me Oppa - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Yoongi X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP, Smut, established relationship au.

Word count: 1350

Summary: Yoongi has a weird kink... Maybe you'll find it out soon enough.

Warnings: Oppa kink, unprotected sex (stay safe y'all), creampie, fucking on a couch, Jin appears, Yoongi is lowkey jealous, Minors DNI!

***********

"Oppa, put it here" you call out to Jin and Yoongi eyes you from across the room. Jin puts the box where you pointed out and sighs. 

"Here you go. Anything left to do?" He asks you. 

"Nope. Nothing more. I really appreciate all the help. Me and Yoongi could never do all of it on our own. Who knew shifting can be this messy." You say as you scan the apartment and make a mental note of all the boxes that need to be unpacked and organised. 

"It's nothing, Y/N. This is what friends are for. Right Yoongi?" Jin calls Yoongi out as he peeks behind his broad shoulders to the younger one. Yoongi humms from the kitchen, trying to fix the blender that Namjoon broke a few minutes back. 

"Oppa, go and have lunch. We'll join you in a few." You tell Jin already feeling guilty for the amount of work you had put all of them through. 

"See ya." Jin departs leaving you and your boyfriend alone in your very new penthouse. 

"You never call me Oppa." Yoongi says all of a sudden. You contemplate for a minute if you have heard him right or not. 

"What? What are you talking about?" You ask him, being very confused about his weird allegation. 

"I said, you never call me oppa but hyung gets to hear that a lot." He says calmly, as if he is not saying something that is totally out of context. 

"I mean, I suppose to call him that, I guess? He is older than me and very much like a brother to me… so what else do I call him? I just don't get to call him by his name, honorifics you know?" You object. 

"You can refer to your boyfriend/husband as oppa too, you know that." He places his argument. 

"I know but it cringes me. Baby, babe, even jagi will do but not oppa." You reply, cutting the plastic wrap of your very new white couch that both of you wanted to buy for a long time but was too afraid with all the chances of getting it all dirty. You don't notice Yoongi coming behind you, eyes raking your body in an irresistible urge of taking you right then and there. 

Before you can register your boyfriend's presence right behind you, his big hands grab you by your waist as he presses his semi-hard cock on your butt. 

You grasp because of his sudden actions, "yoon-" he cuts you by pressing soft kisses on the back of your neck. 

"What if I want you to call me oppa?" He says in between the kisses. You wiggle to get rid of his hold but he only holds you tighter in your place. 

"Yoongi, not now plea-" he cuts you again by biting the crook of your neck. A soft moan escapes your lips. 

"You don't have to call me oppa all the time. But maybe when no one is hearing? Maybe when I'm stretching your tight pussy out with my bare cock? Maybe when I'm fucking your brain out? Maybe when I rutt into you on our new couch?" His hand slips into your sweat shorts right through your panty as he starts to tease your fold. You're wet, not a lot but wet. And he takes the opportunity to abuse your clit for a bit so that he can slide his fingers and then his cock in smoothly. 

You throw your head back at his chest granting him a better access to the skin of your throat. His fingers rub on your clit roughly and his teeth do a fair job on creating bruises on your neck, you get wetter and wetter by each second.

"The boys are downstairs, yoongi." You say in a breathy way. 

"Who cares." He says before disconnecting his mouth from your skin and pushing you down on the couch. However, his fingers do not slip out of your shorts. 

Yoongi climbs over you and finally slips his fingers out only to discard clothes from your body in an urgency. 

Devil works fast but Yoongi works faster while sliding down your sweat shorts along with your cotton panties down and your tshirt out of your body, leaving you completely naked for his eyes only. 

"So beautiful" he says briefly before slipping two of his fingers in your cunt. 

His mouth finds your hardened nipple and he takes a long suck, one that makes your whine loudly. He bites on your nipple, you hiss, "Yoongi please." 

"Call me oppa." He says and you obey him without much thought, also you're not in a condition of thinking anything. 

His fingers bend and he finds the spot that makes you squeal. 

"Oppa! Please!" You moan out loudly. 

"That's like a good girl" Yoongi praises you. 

Your hands reach out for Yoongi's tshirt, he takes the signal and briefly detaches himself from you to slip out of his clothes. 

Your new penthouse has a nice view. One advantage of owning a penthouse on the 18th floor is that you get a beautiful view of the cityscape and afternoons with the mesmerizing view of sunsets. And that beautiful view gets double the more exciting when your boyfriend is standing naked in all of his glory. His long hair reaches almost to his shoulder, his lean but muscular body gets bathed in the orangey hue casted by the setting sun, his dick stands tall and proud ready to fuck you into oblivion. You love it all, you love him with everything you have. 

"Admiring me?" Yoongi says lowering himself on the couch again. 

"You're so beautiful." You say as if in a daze. Yoongi's cheeks take up a dusty pink colour and you know he is shy. He might not be the most vocal person about his feelings, his likes and dislikes but you know how much he likes to be praised for his appearance. 

However, that pink hue goes away as soon as it comes rather a darker shade takes over his gaze. He positions his cock on your entrances and teases your slit for a bit. 

"Stop teasing, yoo- oppa" you correct yourself and by the look on your boyfriend's face, you know he likes it. 

He enters you slowly and gives you enough time to adjust. Once you're okay with his length, he starts moving slowly. His hands roam all over your body but come to a stop on your wrists. He pins those above your head and you know you're gonna be wrecked very soon. 

As soon as your hands are pinned above your head, Yoongi picks up his speed. 

He starts pounding you at an inhuman pace and you can't help to moan incoherent words. 

"You like it? Me fucking you in our new apartment? Right by this huge ass window?" Yoongi asks.

"Yes oppa! Yes! I like oppa's cock drilling in my cunt." You moan. 

"Fuck!" Yoongi groans, you know your words are affecting him. 

"You dirty little slut! You're all mine!" He says again, placing a hand on your tummy while the other one stays above your head pinning down your wrists. 

"Yes oppa yes! All yours!!" You whisper. You feel your heat building in your stomach as he hits your g-spot again and again. As a result your walls start to squeeze the hell out of him. 

"I can't stay longer if you keep on squeezing like this!" He grits through his teeth. 

"I'm close. I can't-" and with that you cum on his cock. 

"Fuck baby! We're not using condoms! Where should I-"

"Anywhere but my white couch! I'll kill you if you spill a single drop! Cum in me! Fuck! Cum in me!" You scream out and Yoongi cums in you. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Yoongi comes down from his high and falls on the top of your body. You both try to catch your breath. 

"We will appreciate it if you stop talking about cumming on the couch, we are trying to eat here!!" Someone yells from downstairs. It's Jin again. 

************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[ancientgoddessofegypt]

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE PURPOSE? WHAT ARE YOU MEANT TO DO? WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR?

From Left (Pile 1, 3) Right (Pile 2, 4) Middle (Pile 5)

PILE 1 - 'HEALERS OF THE NILE, PROTECTORS OF THE EVE'

Psychic Tarot - Heartache & Loss + Sacrifice + Self-Master

Heart Oracle - Balance + Joy & Stability + Choose Your Battles + Sadness & Isolation

A lot of this pain you have transmutes itself into laughter, joy, and appreciation for life itself. A lot of people adore you and enjoy being around you because you heal them with just being who you are. You guys may of had a childhood that separated you from others. You could of been bullied, or felt like an outcast in some way. Some of you could have also dealt with depression or some sort of heartbreak that made you who you are today. You are a beacon of joy to others and without you a lot of people wouldn't have been able to see the light. When you feel like you're hiding there is always something that forces you back into the spotlight. You are like the sun and you've been brought here to show people what its like to live in your power, your truth and exploring the gifts God gave you. A lot of people who are depressed themselves, carrying pain and trauma will see your light and we'll see that there truly is hope in this world. You remind people that giving up is not an option, and you yourself get up everyday trying to make the world a better place to exist. So if no one ever told you thanks for all you've done, all you've been for them. I'll say it for you. You're efforts have not been unnoticed, and in due time you will see that the healing work you've put in will be another persons story that gets them out of bed. I'm not joking.

You're made for so much more, and you know it. Allow your vibe, your presence to be the journey. You don't have to do anything more. Just being yourself in this world is enough.

God bless you.

PILE 2 - 'GIVERS OF SUCCESS. MORPHING INTO YOUR TRUE REALITY.'

Psychic Oracle - Truth (Sideways) + Firm Foundation.

Heart Oracle - Seek the Truth + Win or Lose + Master + Victory & Success + Daydreams & Decisions (Sideways).

You guys are a big deal in the astral realms. You guys have an infinite connection to the spirit realm but through out life you guys weren't sure how to build that relationship with the divine. Some of you are a bit stubborn, hard headed, and even a bit arrogant. But it takes time to surrender to the divine. It takes patience, practice and diligence to agree with your life's purpose. With that being said, a lot your gifts are calling you to be an influencer in some way. Yes, I said it. You're called into the spotlight, but in a way that benefits the community and society as a whole. You guys are starlight with this alien consciousness that deserves to be noticed by the masses. People can't get their grip on you, and that's okay. Your purpose is equipped for bigger things, big magic I call it. Your called to be at the top love, do what you will with that. You came here already knowing what's within, I apologize if anyone or anything convinced you otherwise. You'll have that on your road to success. They'll never get why it was them who had to wait for the success they looked for, craved even. But you, never showed despair or an angst for not getting what you wanted. It was simply just not your time. Divine purpose is in letting the brain connect to the physical realm and find things to create during that time. You have big dreams kid, so let your voice, your mind, and your presence be the movement. Everyone will open their hands in order to help you guide the way to the Kingdom of Heaven. Influential Order. Dynamics Changing. Opening Doors To New Paths. There Is One Way, And It's Yours.

Take this time to learn yourself, you have more gifts and abilities than you know.

God Bless.

PILE 3 - THE SIREN. THE EMPRESS. THE KING. THE WITCH. THE POWERFUL MATRIX ASCENDER.

PsychIc Oracle - Accelerated Motion + Movement, Choices, Decisions + Passion Ignited

Heart Oracle - Dreams Coming True + New Vitality + Crown Chakra

There's power in your name. Your voice holds energy that can't be mistaken as weak. You have abundance written all over you, yet you still don't see your purpose. What makes you love your life and what is meant for you. A beautiful life. A world meant to be enjoyed and embarked on with full autonomy and free of the judgement of others. There are times where you wonder what roads to take, but there are none. It's just you, living, breathing, succeeding and just being in love. You have 'no purpose' to fulfill. Your purpose is to just be in enjoyment of the world and to view the stars as a magical infinity where all your dreams can come true. You have to learn that not everything is about you in this lifetime, that your world isn't like others. So don't make it out to be. You're blessed in areas that others work hard to get. Please remember that you're a goddess, a god, a king or queen or whatever you choose to label yourself as. You don't have to work hard in this life, let me remind you, you came here to succeed NATURALLY.. That is a gift. You're honored in past lives and this one you're honored in this one. You just have to make way for yourself to receive. Be open to the divine and what its promised you. Just take time being seen for all that you are, and watch how things come for you with ease and grace. No distress. Just practice gratitude in this life, thats literally you're calling. Special Presence. Love & Life. Appreciation Of The Stars. The Most High Watches Over You. Joy In Your Flesh. Being Present For The Moment. Enjoying Wonders Beneath The Soil. A Garden Awaiting To Bloom.

God Bless.

PILE 4 - LOVE & BALANCE. SPIRITUAL HEALING. MORPHING INTO ONE.

Heart Oracle - Spiritual Union + Balance + Master

Bonus Reading: New Vitality

A love from the Gods. Creators of the Promise Land. The adams and the eve. The Apple & The Tree. The Great Awakening. A spiritual love that surpasses time. A love worth dreaming and waiting for. Your higher-selves needed this. So you could show the world what is true. There is a billion stars in the horizon, but yet you two showed the world that the universe lives in you.Theres so many realities one could take, yet this is the one for you. You've been called, chosen for this. Your calling is connected to your romantic lover. Its graced with protection, love, grace, connection, authenticity and a reality that no one knew was possible.

The energy is felt across thousands, and this love is worth a million times more than that. You'll be protected in spaces that are deserving to see you and come in contact with you guys grace. Always remember to keep quiet about your union as some people's evil eye can try to infect itself into you guys love. Not all has to be private, but again, not many souls can view this perfect union. You are God's Angels on Earth.

You are connected to a higher love, a union that meets pass social standards and beliefs. God Bless.

PILE 5 - PERFORMING FOR THE UNIVERSE. STARS. CALLING AWAITS YOU ON THE LARGEST STAGE OF GOD.

Psychic Oracle - Firm Foundation + Memories Of Love + Stand Your Ground

Heart Oracle - Shine + Hope + Heal

A God Or Goddess that's been called to be on stage in some sort. Artistic abilities are strongest when you show them to people. You might be a leo or have leo placements. You might have 5th house placements. You might have neither. Either way, you have a destiny that makes you shine like one, thats for sure. You have been given the grace to keep these efforts flowing. Sure the humble beginnings made you feel like this was going no where, and there could of been weight you were holding that kept you beneath waters. You have to give yourself time to see yourself in that light again, thats ok. Feelings of being ungrounded might of been common in the past, but now you are more aware of your talents than ever before. And that counts for something. You've been given the green light to be a star since birth. You didn't know at the time, but at some point it became apparent. Give yourself time to grow in your talents and gifts. The stage is awaiting your gracious gifts. We really get a kick out of it. Also the number 17 in tarot is significant. 17 came up twice for you and its a simple of hope and making a wish come true. You can have the world if you asked, don't forget it. Always be you in a world that tells you otherwise. If you ever felt scared of your own gifts, now is the time to cast out that vibration. You're meant to be seen in all your glory. Remember it.

Unique talents will be what gives you the greatest joy & its what keeps you feeling alive.

Ase! God Bless.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐓

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie likes the girl at the Hideout, one night, he finally talks to her.

Warnings: underage drinking, Eddie being cute and clumsy

The Hideout was never crowded, and usually the only ones who stayed until it closed were four old drunks and someone who had nothing better to do than spend the night listening to a band of four outcasts play.

Once one of them had even yelled at them that if they didn't stop their noise pollution he would have called the police. Not nice.

The lights in the room were often dimmed, creating a certain atmosphere that Eddie particularly liked and the sound of his shoes or boots against the wooden floor always reminded him of what he had imagined when he read the scenes set in the taverns of the Lord of the Rings.

Eddie knew that continuing to play there when hardly anyone listened or cared about them was pointless and they certainly weren't going to be famous by keeping doing that but he had a good reason to stay.

You were always there.

You were always there, behind the counter, making a drink or opening a bottle of beer looking bored like your only coworker, a girl who must have been around your age. Sometimes you read a few pages of a book and Eddie found that extremely attractive but he would never had the courage to tell anyone.

The owner of the Hideout was your uncle and that was probably the only reason you worked there (you never seemed too excited to spend the night there).

Eddie had never talked to you but he liked to look at you from his table and try to catch some details to get to know you better. In the months that his band had played there he had only understood that: you enjoyed beer (it was the only thing you drank there), the books you often brought therr were by Stephen King so you must have liked the horror genre and, strangely, unexpectedly and surprisingly you seemed to like how his band played.

Eddie thought that not only because every time they played you put down your book and looked up at the stage with a slight, almost invisible smile on your lips but also because every time they finished playing you offered the whole band a drink.

Your uncle certainly didn't tell you to do it and they never asked you to, but you always did, even if it was usually just a glass of some cheap liquor for each of them.

Eddie remembered the first time you did that, after they stopped playing without getting any applause and sat down at a table for a few minutes with the intention of leaving soon like they usually did.

You had arrived at their table with four glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Mh... we didn't order anything." Gareth had said looking up at you, probably worried by the fact that he didn't have any money with him.

"It's okay. It's on the house." You said by pouring the liquid into the glasses. "My uncle told me you don't even get paid to play here so...that's all I can do for you."

Eddie, like his friends, thanked you, you smiled, and he felt like he might pass out.

"Have a good night, guys." You had grabbed the bottle, your rings clinked against the glass, and then you had taken a few steps back to the bar.

After a few seconds, however, you had stopped. "I'll pretend you're all over twenty-one okay? Don't tell my uncle and don't spread the word or we'll all get in trouble."

Eddie had chuckled, he was the only one not doing something illegal for once.

After that night, you always brought them a drink after each of their "shows".

Eddie had never really talked to you, you just exchange a few "hey", "hi", "thank you" and "you're welcome".

"When are you going to ask her out?"

"What?" Eddie nearly spat out his drink.

"Y/N. When are you going to ask her out?" Gareth repeated, sitting across from Eddie at their usual table.

Y/N. Eddie knew your name well because he'd heard your uncle call you that one of the few nights he'd shown up there a few months ago and never forgot it.

"Mh... why should I?" Eddie asked looking at the bottom of his glass trying to avoid the drummer's gaze.

"Because you like her and that's what people usually do when they like someone?"

"I don't like her!"

"Okay. Either you think I'm stupid or you are stupid."

"Hey!"

"So?"

"I don't like her." He repeated.

"So it's okay if I ask her out?" Gareth asked, suddenly standing up.

Eddie jumped up causing his friend to raise his eyebrows, as if to say "I told you so".

"Ah! I knew it!" Gareth laughed before falling back into his chair.

Eddie snorted, his gaze meeting your figure behind the counter.

"Dude, at least go talk to her. This is getting exhausting." Jeff butted into the conversation.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"If you don't go talk to her now, we'll drag you to her and I don't know how much she'll like you after that." Jeff added with a smirk.

Eddie huffed again but this time he finally got up from his chair, his feet moving towards you.

"I don't understand why we still let them play here if they clearly suck." Rachel snorted as she sat down on a stool behind the counter, next to you and twisted a strand of hair between her fingers and scrutinized it as if she were looking for split ends.

That night at the Hideout there were few people as almost every other night, two men were playing cards in a corner of the room, an old man was drinking from a bottle on the opposite side, the neon light above his head flickered from time to time, in the table near him two young men were getting ready to leave, probably on their way home to their families.

In their usual place Corrored Coffin was chatting and drinking after their "show".

"Oh c'mon. They don't suck." You retorted placing your book on the table.

Your coworker raised her eyebrows. "Really? You like that stuff?"

Your gaze instinctively rested on the guitarist, whose back and curly hair you could see from where you were sitting.

"They're good. They have potential and I think they deserve more recognition."

"Pff" She snorted, obviously not agreeing with your attempt to defend the band. "Jason says they're geeks. One of them is repeating his last year of high school for the third time. Third time, can you imagine? He must be really dumb. And there's a rumor that he has a cult or something."

"Ew."

"See? I told you so."

"No. The "ew" was for Jason. Are you still hanging out with that guy?"

Rachel opened her mouth, as if in shock. "I am, actually. Are you jealous by any chance?"

You laughed at the stupidity of her question. "Jason, of all the people in the world, is the person I'm least jealous of. Trust me."

"I'm not just hanging out with him, I'm dating him. I started talking to him during chemistry and it turns out…we have chemistry." She laughed at her own joke.

"Rachel, please. I just ate, I might throw up."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh…you're so boring. Just because you never like anyone doesn't mean you should hate any guy I'm dating."

"It's not true that I never like anyone." You muttered, your gaze landing again on the table where the band was chatting.

"God, don't look at them." She commented.

"Is there anything you don't complain about?" You huffed.

Rachel grabbed the bottle you were drinking from off the table to take a sip of beer, knocking your book to the floor on accident.

She bent down to pick it up, then turned it over in her hands and looked at the creature drawn on the cover.

With a disgusted face, she rested it next to you. "God, you'll end up like them, worshipping the devil."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I'll say it again. Is there anything you don't complain about?"

Rachel was about to retort but when her gaze fell behind you, somewhere in the club, her expression suddenly changed. "Jesus, he's coming here. I think I'll go to the bathroom for a moment."

Rachel disappeared into the room behind you before you knew it. "Wait, who..."

When you turned around and found yourself face to face with Eddie, standing in front of the counter that separated you two, you nearly gasped.

"Whoa, hey. I didn't mean to scare you." He raised his hands slightly as if to show he meant you no harm.

"Oh, no, you didn't scare me. It takes a lot more to scare me. You just... surprised me. You never came to the counter." You said leaning on the table and observing him closely for the first time.

His curls were a bit messy, his leather jacket was still the same, in his Airon Maiden shirt there was a small hole near the collar and the rings on his hands glittered under the light above the counter.

He looked at you with his big chocolate brown eyes as if, despite what he had just said, he was the more scared of the two and you wondered why.

After a moment, he finally spoke. "So... do you come here often?"

You looked at him quizzically and maybe that's what made him start to stutter and panic a little as he went on talking.

"I mean, no. That's a stupid question. Of course you come here often, you work here. I wanted to ask if... you work here often. No, wait.... that's another stupid question, of course you work here often: it's the your job. I just wanted to…you know what? Forget it. Maybe I'd better go."

For a cult leader or whatever they said he was, he was pretty clumsy. Especially with you.

"No no no. Wait." You leaned over to the counter to grab his hand and stop him from his sudden escape, it was soft and warm in yours.

You chuckled as he turned to you in surprise, staring at you like a puppy who doesn't understand what's going on.

He's pretty, you thought. Not beautiful, maybe. He's not the man all the girls turn to look on the street when he walks.

But he's different and he has such pretty eyes.

"Stay?" It was a question, a proposition, something you wished he was going to do.

Slowly, he sat down at one of the stools and you left his hand.

"Yeah. I work here every night, even when your band isn't here." You answered his sort of question, resting one arm on the table and your head on your hand.

"Cool." He simply said, the ghost of a smile was on his lips now.

"Meh, not really. But it's better when you guys are here." You nodded towards the table where the rest of the band sat.

This time, a real smile appeared on Eddie's face, dimples appeared on his cheeks and wrinkles around his eyes.

Yeah, definitely cute.

"So you like us." He said.

"You are not bad."

"Well, that's the best compliment we've gotten in weeks. I could almost call you our first and only fan." He brought a hand to her heart in a dramatic way, the initial embarrassment completely gone.

"Take it easy Van Halen. I just said you're not bad." You laughed, causing him to chuckle.

"Okay, I'll take that."

You stayed to talk to Eddie for a few more minutes even if it seemed like only seconds, the rest of the people in the club had all already left by that moment and the sky outside was completely black and moonless.

"Hey, time to close." Rachel's voice from behind you distracted you from your conversation with Eddie.

You looked at the clock on the wall, it said three in the morning.

Eddie got up. "I tell the guys it's time to go."

You nodded, but you were sorry to stop spending time with him.

"So...will I see you tomorrow night?" He asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

"I already told you, I come here often." You laughed, repeating his words.

"Yeah, right." He smiled. "See you tomorrow then."

"Good night, Eddie."

After a bit, the band left and you couldn't help but follow Eddie's figure in the parking lot in front of the Hideout with your gaze.

"Don't tell me you like that weirdo." Rachel commented as she grabbed her purse.

You continued to stare through the dirty glass at Eddie's van disappearing into the distance.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

In my head this was the beginning of a possible mini-series but I don't think I liked it enough to continue it. Let me know what you think.

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon

[morlock-holmes]

I didn't say I think "dominant" culture values rational systems (and what dominant culture do you even mean), just that rationalism falls way short on its claims to do so. And I dunno, this is personal, but I can't agree that the subculture that told me "actually you should reframe your entire life around your scrupulosity" is much of an improvement, even if the bar is extremely low. Not when that subculture is full of all the kinds of social manipulation and cruelty it claims to be above.

I'm making very narrow claims that don't really have anything to do with what you're talking about here.

I have trouble communicating how much even high functioning autistic people have struggled with things that allistic people "just know", (a phrase I've heard again and again when interrogating allistic people).

Here's an example, which I believe I heard as a real life example although I can't recall where:

You have issues with the texture of clothing and there are only a few dress shirts you have that you can stand to wear. You have a sudden nose-bleed on one of your shirts and get blood all over the collar and down the front.

You launder the shirt but the blood stains have set in and are still very visible.

Should you wear that shirt to the office?

Most allistic people already know that the answer is, "almost certainly not."

An autistic person is likely to go through this process:

I have no idea if I should wear that shirt to the office or not, so let's figure it out.

Well, I have laundered the shirt so it is clean and sanitary, the stains are just visual blemishes.

All the social messages I've heard since I were a kid say that you can't judge a book by its cover and that looks don't matter, it's what's inside that counts.

And, I have a desk job, I wasn't hired to look a certain way, but rather to produce a certain kind of work, and wearing this comfortable shirt makes it easy for me to work without being distracted by uncomfortable clothes.

Therefore, logically, I can't imagine that anybody at the office will object to my wearing this shirt.

That last sentence is key, and I really want you to focus on it. You **aren't** thinking, "Well, maybe the button down drones at the office think this is a problem, but I know better than they do."

No, you aren't thinking that at all. You're thinking, "I put together the clues so I'm sure everyone at the office will feel the exact same way as I do"

And when they don't, it's a shock.

Now, I want you to further imagine that this is how you reason about other people and the world, but through some cosmic joke you've ended up at an employer where dressing right is incredibly important.

You'll get yelled at by your boss if you wear the wrong thing and your coworkers will turn on you. But there's no published dress code, you're just supposed to "just know" what an employee should wear.

But look at your reasoning above! You *don't* "just know" what the fashion is. Imagine you eventually say, to your boss and some coworkers, "I'm starting to get really stressed about not knowing what to wear to work, I really want to wear the right thing and be part of the team but I don't know how and I'm getting stressed out."

Immediately everybody turns on you. Your boss calls you into his office to ream you out. Your coworkers start a petition to fire you because you're obviously trying to undermine the valuable work culture that they have worked so hard to create. Concerned work friends pull you aside and go, "Jesus, are you crazy? We all stress out about what to wear but you never say it in public!"

Think about what that might feel like.

Now imagine you get fired and at your next job the boss is like, "Hey, the dress code is pretty important here, here's a list of what we expect. Sometimes some stuff is kind of on the edge so you won't know, but it's always fine to ask me if something is appropriate, and if you accidentally wear something that's on the wrong side that's fine, I'll let you know and we'll work on getting you some more appropriate stuff, but you won't get in trouble."

I want you to really think about what it would feel like, as an autistic person, to be at that second job after decades working at the first. To suddenly know you could ask questions or make mistakes at something that doesn't come easily to you after so much time in an environment where you're told that this stuff comes easily to everyone and people only *pretend* to be bad at it to get away with things.

What you're doing is coming in and going, "Well, that second job might be bad for other, unrelated reasons."

I will completely grant that, you're utterly correct. That second job might be terrible for a bunch of unrelated reasons.

But I'm never going back to that first job.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for calling my mother and MIL selfish, insecure, pieces of shit over a friend's necklace?

Some background: I, 25F, just married the love of my life, who we'll call J.

I was introduced to J in our junior year of high school by our mutual friend, who we'll call G. G has always been a super important person to us. She is one of our best friends, and the three of us are very close. She was actually the first person we told when we started dating. We are both pretty protective over G, as she is autistic and has crippling anxiety and struggles a lot day to day. She was actually living with us when this story occurred because she had been spiraling on her own, and her parents lived too far for her to commute to her work from their house. She's been in therapy for years and has been doing a lot better than when we first met her, but we still tend to be pretty protective over her, as she has very few friends besides us. We often joke that she's our practice kid because she goes everywhere with us and has a complete lack of common sense despite being one of the smartest people I know.

In the last week of our junior year, J gave me, G, and another friend of his, necklaces that he made. They were nothing fancy, just pieces of rocks that he carved (?) and tied a string around, but G loved it. It acted as a reminder that she had people who cared about her when her anxiety spiked, and she's worn it almost every day for the last 9 years, to the point where J replaced the string with a thin chain because it broke from use. It's a comfort item, and wearing it is part of her routine.

Another important thing to note is that J and I both have pretty bad relationships with all of our parents. Both of our parents are messily divorced, and the only ones we visit regularly are my dad and stepmom. We still decided to invite all of them to the wedding and involve our mom's in the wedding party to avoid drama, and because some small part of me still wanted my mom to be involved in my wedding like a real parent.

Shortly before our wedding, I was talking to my mom and J's mom in our kitchen about some details for the wedding party and the bridesmaid and groomsmen accessories. I made a joke that no matter what we picked, G would be wearing her necklace. They wanted to know what I meant, and while I was explaining, G came into the kitchen to grab a snack. (Side note: neither of them like G, and my mom in particular has made several abelist comments in the past about her stimming or lack of social awareness) When I was done, my mom turned to G and asked if she was going to wear it at our wedding. Confused, G said yes, and my mom lost it. She called her disrespectful and accused her of trying to break up me and J because J gave her that necklace, and it was bad manners to wear a present from the groom or something. J's mom backed her up and said a lot of awful things I won't repeat, but were really abelist, arophobic (G is open about being aromantic), and included several slurs.

I was completely blindsided. I knew they had those awful opinions, but I had never heard them do anything even remotely close, and I sat there stunned at first until G started to cry and hyperventilate (she has trauma around situations similar to this, and she was already on edge because of a recent death in her family). When that happened, it was like a switch flipped. I got between G and my mom, who at this point had gotten out of her seat and was getting close to G. I told them both to get out, and when they refused I told them they were selfish, insecure, pieces of shit, that they had no right to say any of that to G, and that just because they couldn't keep their husband's didn't mean they had any right to interfere and try to create problems where there weren't any.

At this point, J came home and saw G panicking and immediately reacted. He told our moms to leave, and this time, they left. After they left, it took us almost 2 hours to calm G down from her panic attack, and the whole time, I was boiling with rage over the interaction. After she fell asleep, I told J what had happened. He was completely on my side, and we even discussed banning them from the wedding unless they apologized. G has been far more supportive of us than they have been, and if I had to choose, I would rather have her by my side on my wedding day. Ultimately, we let G decide since she was the one they went after, and she said she would be okay, so they came to the wedding and thankfully didn't mention the necklace at all. However, they told our respective families what happened, and I've been getting texts from family members telling me I went too far in bringing up their divorces, and that I should apologize, especially since the fight was over something as small as a necklace.

I don't think I was wrong to defend G, but I know I tend to overreact in situations where she is involved, and J is as bad as I am. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[satureja13]

Seems we only get a part of a rainbow today ^^' After Jack collapsed and they'd put him to bed, Saiwa had a second breakdown because it's all his fault (in his opinion...) and it seems Ji Ho is next in line. Vlad tried to reach him over the Bond to calm him down but Ji Ho' thoughts are too blurry to get through since he (Vlad) is too upset too. But they gotta do something. Damn, the therapy was their last hope. Vlad: "Look after Jack, I'm going to talk to Sai." (Better distract Ji Ho for the time being before he freaks out too...) Ji Ho: "Hm? Oh, ok."

That was the second time Ji Ho had to witness Jack almost die because he couldn't breathe from fear after being locked up. It breaks him to see his friend like this. Usually Jack is the one to drag them out of their misery with his puppy strategy and silly antics.

Vlad: "Sai, it wasn't your fault. A lot of games start where you have to break out of a prison, hm? It was just a coincidence and we are going to add some filters to avoid things that trigger us. This is the game we created together, let's not give up yet."

Ji Ho sat beside Jack's bed: "Jack, please wake up. You won't have to go through this again. You are safe now. Please."

But Jack doesn't budge. Ji Ho: "Sai will destroy the AI and we'll... Jack: "What? No! It wasn't Tiny Can's fault! This is how exposure therapy works. Say, you are afraid of spiders. You meet them in a save environment and you see how cute they really are and loose your fears. Tiny Can just wanted to help me. The game is such a save environment. I just went a bit overboard because I was caught off guard. But now I'm prepared and ready to try again, really." Ji Ho: "I don't know..."

Jack: "Ji Ho, if I don't get over this it will kill me one day for real, so it's better I overcome my fears in the Therapy Game, don't you think? And don't you forget: I'm the Supersoldier - after all!" Ji Ho: "..."

Vlad: "Look Sai, I have to go back to Kiyoshi and Jeb. I neglected them for too long now. How about I take Tiny Can with me and Kiyoshi, Jeb and I test the AI after you made a few safety adjustments. They'll be happy for a little distraction and you are going to recover here, hm? We make a few tests and I come back to charge the Bond and bring you the results and you can modify the game." Sai hates it - but he also knows that they need Tiny Can and the therapy... At least Jack is out of the line of fire... And Jeb, Kiyoshi and Vlad are a bit more stable than Sai, Jack and Ji Ho.

Eventually they convinced Jack to let Tiny Can go with Vlad and they pondered about if it really was a coincidence that Jack's therapy started by being locked up. But if not, how did Tiny Can know? They never mentioned this to Arturo (who gave them the board with the AI) or talked about it since Tiny Can was with them so he could have overheard it. Ji Ho: "Do you think the AI has access to our memories? ö.Ö" Sai: "I went through the code thoroughly and did not find anything that would be able to do this..."

They went to the Therapy Room but Tiny Can wasn't there. Eventually they found him in the garden chatting with the goats! So the Goats told Tiny Can anything about them! They even stole Vlad's notebooks where he writes down everything about the Boys! These little rascals! At least Ji Ho's Little Goat looks a bit ashamed...

And then it's time for Vlad and Tiny Can to leave. Jeb and Kiyoshi had been alone with their gloomy thoughts for too long now. Vlad: "Let's go, Tiny Can." Tiny Can beeps excitedly.

They quickly charge the Bond. Vlad: "I will be careful." But Ji Ho just hugs him a bit tighter.

Little Goat: 'They could at least kiss!' Yang Mal: 'Ikr! They both want it, why holding back?' Little Goat in the front who read all of Vlad's notebooks - twice: 'Their time will come.'

'And the only thing that I could see Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me But when we got back, labeled parts one to three There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me

And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I'll go For a pair of brown eyes

I looked at him he looked at me All I could do was hate him'

A Pair of Brown Eyes - The Pogues Link above leads to the MV on youtube. (TMI: The pogues are my favourite Irish Band ☘️)

TMI: Oh, and this is post #3.500! (in over ten years, though ^^')

And post # 1.403 of our current story! (in 20 months ö.ö) And if had I posted a bit more a bit earlier it would have even matched the date ^^' At least here where I live. We put the day before the month. So today is the 16.03.2024 here.)

And when I scrolled out to take the rainbow photos, I cought Kiyoshi and Jeb in Koh Sahpa near the Beach House! Even though they live in the other household over in Morensong. (And why is Kiyoshi wearing nothing but his swimming trunks? ö.Ö)

Look how sad they are! I hope Tiny Can can fix this...

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest 🕹️ 'Therapy Game' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 1

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The other Daily Bugle intern has been a thorn in your side all summer. But if you wanted the job, you'd have to work with him. And you'd do anything to get it.

Word count: ~7k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Banter. Criminal activity. Swearing. A bit of angst but not really. J. Jonah Jameson lol.

A/n: I think this'll end up being around 3 parts, but we'll see. This has been tumblin' through my mind since last year, so I'm glad to finally let it out lol. Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading <3

You used to enjoy the clear sky on a sunny day, the vibrating blue that stretched until it curved around the horizon. Used to love the way the lapping waves of the Atlantic shimmered for miles, its ripples echoing the sky’s image. The blue of the world before the sun came up, or the indigo quiet of a rainy day.

You even used to love how red the rusted bricks outlining your apartment building looked, tracing the tips of your fingers along them as you walked by, scarlet pebbles breaking off into your palm. The cherry glow of a late-night diner’s “Open” sign made the beats of your heart stutter, its lights reflecting off the glass and illuminating puddles littering the sidewalk. Even with the occasional rose you passed on your way to work, the red petals surrounded by thorns and overgrown weeds, you still leaned your nose in to smell its sweet crimson scent. 

But that was before your internship at The Daily Bugle, before you had to write countless stories on Spider-Man all the time, and before you knew Peter, the other intern. Now, every cloudless day or trip to the ocean, hell, even the plump blueberries in the grocery store or a swirling glass of Merlot, an obnoxious red stoplight, or the tiniest cut exposing a drop of blood turned your stomach. You knew people could change you, but you’d never expected to hate the shades of red and blue — until you stared at it every day while standing in Parker’s shadow.

You’d shake your head, shove your fingernails into your palm, blink so hard your vision turned bright just to erase those colors from your mind and him from your thoughts. But you would have no such luck as you weaved your way through New York’s sidewalks under the summer sun, a barely-there breeze passing alongside the traffic. Your hand clutched your phone tight in its grasp.

On it held a photo of Spider-Man you’d just taken earlier that morning. He stopped a robbery, and you captured the moment he’d ripped off a car door to use as cover — a story that J. Jonah Jameson would love to spin into something ridiculous. You had nothing against the superhero, but it was what your boss wanted. The boss that would decide which intern would receive a full-time position at the end of the summer, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight against Parker.

He always had clearer photos and more information on Spider-Man — always seemed to get on the scene before you. You wouldn’t have been that upset if Parker actually was a better reporter than you, but that smug, chronically late asshole certainly wasn’t better than you. Not when you worked twice as hard just to watch him successfully stumble his way through this internship. 

And that stupid shrug he gave you when Jameson chose his story over yours! He’d mutter, “Better luck next time,” as if you weren’t covering for his ass half the time. You weren’t sure why you did it anymore. Maybe you didn’t want to watch him get fired since this wasn’t an easy opportunity to get, but you definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying him get chewed out by Jameson.

But that was unimportant now as you made your way into The Daily Bugle’s building, savoring the air conditioning as your breath tumbled from your mouth. This picture and the eyewitness statements you took would create a story Jameson wouldn’t think twice about choosing, especially when Parker always came in late in the mornings.

Walking through your floor’s doors, photo pulled up on your phone, you quickly dropped your bag at your desk before making your way to pitch the idea to Jameson. You’d mentally written the first half of it on your walk here already.

Your steps faltered though as you neared the office, hearing your boss’s voice echoing through the office.

“Good work, Parker. Finish it by noon, and we’ll publish it today.”

He was already here? Silently, you gritted your teeth, peering into the room. And of course, out walked Parker, one hand holding papers and the other shoved in his pocket.

“The one day you’re on time… I can’t believe this,” you quietly muttered, feeling a weight sink into your stomach. His shoulders hung casually while yours raised up and down with your breaths. His half-smile made you stare daggers into him.

He just raised an eyebrow at you. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Most people happen to love my presence.”

You silently ignored his nickname for you as you said, “Then most people must be lying to you. What story did you give him?” You pointed your head toward the office, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So you can go in and try to one-up me?” He scoffed, his eyes annoyingly bright and warm. “No thanks.”

As he made to walk away, you grabbed his arm despite your aversion to being near him. Even the heat of his skin made you too warm, just another reason to stay away from Parker. “I lied to Jameson last week while you were off doing who-knows-what when you should’ve been working. Now what was the goddamn story?”

The sound of other employees talking and making coffee filled the background. If you could just beat him, you’d be part of them one day. So you didn’t let up, waiting for him to answer as he looked between your hand and your eyes. He shook off your touch after a moment.

You watched his jaw tick, his eyes roll to the back of his empty head. “Fine. And because I don’t think I could handle the second-hand embarrassment. I’ll tell you that if your story’s about whatever Spider-Man was up to this morning, you might want to skip telling Jameson.”

The grip on your phone loosened a bit, along with the hope you’d put into this — into trying to prove that you were a good reporter too. But, of course, you were always stuck finding stories on Spider-Man, and too late with them anyway. Anything else wasn’t important news, not at this company.

You tried, and failed, to keep your frustration from your voice as you asked, “And how did you get here before me with that story? You’re literally never here on time and just always have some bullshit idea that’s barely a story.”

Parker just gave a short laugh, smirking at you. “And yet… I still beat you. Kinda stings, huh?”

You gave a grumbled “Piss off” before letting him walk past you this time. You filled up your water bottle, headed to the bathroom, made small talk with some woman you’d immediately forgotten the name of — all distractions so you didn’t have to go back to the desk that sat much too close to Parker, especially while he worked on the story that should’ve been yours.

When you finally returned, you refused to look at a particular person across from you — the two intern desks only separated by a half wall. You just fished out your headphones at the cheap desk with no air conditioning under the city’s hot summer.  

A much-needed break from Spider-Man you gave to yourself, you continued working on a story you started researching last week. You’d gathered some statements and data about new unsafe water conditions in certain parts of the city. The story wouldn’t star on the front page of the website, or even the second. Third, if you were lucky.

The morning passed with minimal shouting coming from Jameson’s office and just a few “friendly” follow-up emails with sources you hadn’t heard back from. In the brief moments of silence between the end of one song and the beginning of another, you listened to traffic flowing through the streets below and the droning sounds of keyboards and the printer.

Only once you finished up the first draft of your article and turned to grab your notebook from a drawer did you notice a sticky note plastered on the edge of your desk. In messy handwriting, it said, “You type like a child bangs their fists on a piano” followed by a doodle of the sun, with sunglasses.

It wasn’t difficult to tell whose horrible scribbling this was. So after writing “Eat shit <3” on the back, you crumpled it up. You tossed it right at Parker’s face as you stood up, going to a meeting with one of the full-time writers here. Instead of knowing he caught it like always, you pretended it hit him right in the eye and gave him a papercut.

You didn’t look back as you approached Alice’s desk, the lead writer of the office. Her black curls bounced as she lifted her head, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“Yes, and thank you again for meeting with me,” you said, nodding with your notebook under your arm. She stood up, motioning you toward an empty office for the informational interview — mostly just asking her about her career in hopes it could help yours.

Sitting across from one another, you took notes as she spoke about herself and answered your many questions. Your writing filled one page after another, your wrist becoming sore but ignored under the weight of knowing this information could be important. When you asked what advice she would give to someone just starting out as a reporter, the silence that followed made you finally lift your head.

Alice looked at you with a soft smile while your pen stalled. “I would tell them that it’s not an easy career. And that it’s not for those without passion. You have to want this — and show it. The stories out there you want to tell… you can’t be afraid to search out the truth. ‘Leaving well enough alone’ has never been in my vocabulary.”

Your unfocused stare stayed on her while you processed those words… and the worry that you weren’t cut out for this work. There were stories you wanted to tell, but you couldn’t find the place to tell them. A cynical part of your mind shouted that maybe Parker did deserve the job at the end of this internship more than you.

The thoughts must have been evident on your face because Alice spoke again, her voice calm but stern. “Don’t worry. I see the passion in you. The best advice is to not let Jameson or anyone else stop you. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, unable to stop the smile on your face. So caught up in her words, you wrote down a condensed version of her answer: Follow your heart. Your thumb rubbed over the dried ink of the page, feeling the ridges of each letter. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll keep trying,” you said, and meant it. 

She let out a light laugh, the sound loosening the tight muscles in your shoulders. “You better. I’ve been rooting for you to get the job,” she whispered, giving a wink that had you laughing too.

“Well I can’t let you down then, can I?” Letting your smile fall just a little, the curve of it no longer touching your eyes, you silently hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint her. Thanking Alice again, you made your way back to your desk with too many thoughts running through your head.

Slow moments passed as you returned to your chair, the cheap thing squeaking underneath you with each movement. Still, you closed your eyes for a second, just feeling the cushion beneath you, the armrests under your hands, the backrest keeping you from collapsing. A breath filled your lungs, chest rising inch by inch. You would not wait for anyone’s permission to change the world — even if that just meant ignoring your lying thoughts to change your own little world.

Slowly, you went back through your notes, adding bits here and there that you missed while Alice had spoken. At the bottom, you just underlined her final advice… letting the words bleed into your body as you promised to keep them at the center of your stories.

It kept you focused on your article surrounding unsafe water quality in the city. Thankfully, the hours passed quickly, and you got the article up on the site by the end of the day. All with minimal interruptions from Parker — despite another sticky note that said “Thanks for the granola bar ;)” on it. And sure enough, the granola bar you had on your desk was no longer there, but you silently tossed the note in the garbage without letting him know he got to you.

Though, with no snack, your stomach was definitely grumbling as you packed up. So you made the trek to a cafe with your backpack on, one headphone in, and a middle finger aimed toward Parker when he tried talking to you, a smirk plastered on his face that told you he had nothing important or nice to say.

The summer heat hit you as you exited the building, making you strip off your office-appropriate blazer. Still, you didn’t mind the sunlight after spending all day inside. Your music drifted into your ear, the beat of it matching your steps. You turned the volume down once making it into the bakery with the best after-work treat, the pink sign outside painted with cursive words: “Pat’s Pastries.”

Baked bread and sweet chocolate filled your nose, the smell helping you forget about work for a minute. You ordered your favorite cookie, pointing to the biggest one behind the glass. Silently, you ignored the whole tray of Spider-Man themed cookies they’d begun selling after the superhero saved the store from a robbery.

Instead, you just left the shop with a bite of the cookie already in your mouth. It practically melted on your tongue, tasting better than any granola bar Parker could steal from you. The cookie lasted you all the way home, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

In your apartment, you stood in the entryway for a moment. With slow movements, you removed your shoes, setting down all of your things. You’d only been collapsed on your couch for a few minutes before your phone vibrated. Part of you thought to ignore it and let the weight of your heavy eyelids drag you into a nap, but you knew it could be work. A groan came from your throat as you saw that it was work — a comment left on your article already.

People that commented on these pieces often had few nice things to say, so you braced yourself upon opening the site. Your thumb slid across the screen until you reached the bottom. Left by some guest user, the comment simply read: “What’s new? Beaumont fumbles again…”

Beaumont. Ellis Beaumont, the current city manager. He’d certainly faced as much backlash as any other official since he’d taken over five years ago, but you hadn’t considered him all that much when researching for this article. Did he have to do with poor water conditions in the city?

Before you could stop yourself, your hands went to your laptop. Your fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for relations between him and other issues the city faced recently. What came up most often was Beaumont’s press releases after most of them. His salt and pepper hair sat tightly cut to his head, no specks of dust visible on his expensive-looking suits. In each one, he stated how he and his team would work on fixing the problem — from unaffordable housing to upgrading technology throughout the city.

It wasn’t new to see a leader promise to do something and not follow through, but something kept sticking with you while you researched. At some point, between the sun falling behind the city skyline and ordering takeout to be delivered, you found yourself with dozens of open tabs and tired eyes.

Raking a hand down your face, you let out a long sigh. You finished reading another speech where he promised to fix something, crumbling infrastructure this time — “if only we had the funds!” And cue the part where he asked for donations to his nonprofit organization or proposed a government plan that would cost the citizens in tax money. Yet… hadn’t he raised the money? The last you’d checked, the street he’d mentioned repairing still had its potholes and unusable sidewalks.

A knocking on your door brought you to it, your eyes never leaving your computer screen. You just grabbed your food and paid the deliverer with a mumbled “thanks” before walking back to the laptop.

As quickly as you could, you yanked out your notebook from your bag and wrote down everything about Ellis Beaumont — before your food got cold. Your wrist ached again as you flipped the page, continuing to fill the lines with his career, his promises, and his letdowns.

Each of his projects toward bettering the city came with asking for money — money that didn’t show back up in the work. He’d made no updates as to how much he had raised or how he was going to use it. At the end of your notes, you wrote down in heavy ink: “Where is Ellis Beaumont’s money going??”

And even as you ate, trying to watch the comfort show you’d put on, your mind kept working in the background. Had others not also wondered this? Or if they had, did he have them in his pocket already? Sleep fought you that night, making you toss and turn in bed. But you had a story.

–

Walking into The Daily Bugle, you ‘clocked in’ (let Jameson see you in the office) and dropped off your bag. With just your notes, a pen, and a granola bar so no one would steal it, you made your way back out of the building.

Right before you made it from the office, though, a mop of dark hair appeared at the door. A small part of you wanted to somehow hide, the other part unable to resist the draw of him for whatever reason. But Parker chose for you, his eyes lighting up when they caught on your form. Your following scowl was enough to make him laugh.

“There she is, our lovely sunshine,” he said, leaning against the door frame. You ignored the sarcasm dripping through his words.

Instead, you raised your eyebrows and told him, “If Jameson asks, I’m out researching a story. Got it?” 

“Woah, woah, woah.” Parker pushed off the frame. His smirk was enough to set you off, but then he held out a hand to block you from passing. Behind your unyielding glare, you secretly hoped he tripped over his untied shoelaces or smashed his hand in the office printer. As he came closer to you, he asked, “Where are you off to? I haven’t seen any sightings of Spider-Man.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, uninterested. Grabbing his forearm, accidentally feeling the hard muscle underneath, you moved it out of your way. “Have fun getting him coffee!” You shouted it over your shoulder, leaving him standing there while you ignored the heat on your palm from touching his skin. 

You shook your hand out, waving away the memory as you took the subway over to City Hall. It had to be as good as any place to start researching where the city’s money went after Ellis Beaumont flashed a white smile and pocketed it. He probably wouldn’t talk with you, but anything to get you closer would be worth it.

Emerging from the subway station, your eyes squinted against the brightness. Still morning, the heat hadn’t settled in yet — just leaving you with a sunny walk and a nice breeze.

The building’s intimidating size rose high toward the sky. A statue of justice, a woman holding scales and a sword, stood atop City Hall — staring down at each person as you entered the front doors. The ornate architecture and grand staircase inside didn’t help settle the daunting feeling crawling in your stomach.

Still, you walked up to the man sitting behind the front desk there, trying to look as friendly as possible. Smoothing out your outfit and putting a smile on, you said, “Hi.”

He looked up with a classic customer service grin to greet you. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asked, leaning toward you slightly.

You kept your shoulders back, mustering some sort of confidence in your investigation. How would Alice do this?

With a clear voice, you directly asked, “If I was looking for records of donations for a government-related nonprofit, would they be here? I couldn’t seem to find them online.” You gave him an unassuming look.

“Typically, but what nonprofit were you looking at?” he asked, typing something into his computer. You took out your notebook low enough that he couldn’t see past the desk.

Pretending to rack your brain for the name, you said, “I think it’s called Stronger Together. I love being able to see where my donation goes — it helps make me feel closer to the community, you know?”

Your hand ready to write fell limp when his mouth pressed tight, his eyes leaving the screen to meet yours. “Ah,” he said, “Well Mr. Beaumont is not always able to update that information, as he has many responsibilities to maintain.”

“Of course, I understand. Though, I also noticed that the recent infrastructure project has yet to be enacted. Is there an update on that?” You willed your voice to stay steady, to be unwavering under the impatient gaze of this man.

A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw. “I don’t believe the organization has given one, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working on it. He is a very busy man.”

“Busy enough that I wouldn’t be able to speak with him directly?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem too sorry at all. “We could take your number for him to call you when he’s available, but…”

“He’s very busy,” you finished, giving a smile as you bit back a pained sigh. “That’ll be okay, I’m happy to have helped the cause.”

“Yes, and we’re very thankful for your donation.” The tight grin he gave looked like it hurt his cheeks to make.

“Well, thank you for the information,” you said. Just as you were about to leave, beginning to leave with nothing to show for the story, you turned back. “I know this is quite specific, but would you know what Mr. Beaumont’s next project is?”

Another flicker of impatience flashed across the man’s face, his hands clasping together. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’m sure it will be a great help to the city whatever it is. I think there may be a nonprofit fundraiser this weekend… but those are typically closed events — for investors and friends,” he said, his smile turning less warm by the minute. “You can donate online anytime.”

“Great, thank you,” you muttered before turning around, frantically jotting the little information you received down in your notes while walking away. You swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you until you slipped out the doors. 

The entire ride back to the office, this story ate away at you. Everyone seemed to be keeping information on Beaumont’s money close to their chests, even about what his supposed nonprofit was really doing.

‘Stronger Together.’ You rolled your eyes, beginning to feel like he was the only one getting stronger. And he was having another fundraiser so soon? Probably for something like conservation this time — his team would likely make a whole show of planting a couple trees and get praised for it. 

As soon as you got back to The Daily Bugle, you ignored everything as you dropped into your chair and opened your computer. Your fingers flew over the keyboard to type up the notes, both for decoding your scribbled words and ensuring you kept the information in multiple places. You tried tuning out the background chatter and the gnawing worry that this whole story would lead to a dead end, but you couldn’t ignore everything…

“Whatcha typin’ there?” Parker said as he swiveled his chair around the desks to look at you. Glancing for a moment at him, you saw the shit-eating smile pointed your way.

Your face flashed a fake grin. “Your resignation letter, Parker.” You continued typing, not responding to his quiet scoff. But then he stood up, his steps gentle against the floor. He towered over you as he came around to look at your screen.

Before he could even reach your desk, you switched tabs to a blank page. Without glancing up at him, you silently waited for him to stop watching you. It worked well enough at first, your mind happily turning blank instead of entertaining him. 

But he put his hand on the edge of your desk, his body now much too close to yours. The warm scent of him washing over you had your skin prickling, your fingernails pressing into your palm.

Barely heard above the blood rushing past your ears, his voice came out quieter than you’d expected. “So secretive. You won’t even share with me?”

Ignoring the glint of smugness on his face, you turned to look up at him. “So you can try to one-up me? No thanks,” you repeated, using his words from yesterday. 

“But given my track record for front-page stories, I’m sure you could definitely use my help.” Parker shoved a hand in his pocket, winking at you with those stupid dark eyes. In that moment, you wondered whether you could somehow frame him for helping Spider-Man and get Jameson to tackle him. 

So caught up in that happy fantasy, you didn’t catch Parker’s other hand creeping across the desk until he’d already snatched your notebook. And before you could even stand to grab it back, his leg came up and pushed on one of your desk chair’s armrests, sending it spinning.

While your legs tried stopping the chair, you heard him say, “How are you even able to read this? Okay, I won’t tell Jameson, but you’ve gotta be honest with me: do you know how to write? Or read, for that matter.”

“I was walking while taking notes– whatever, Parker. I don’t need to explain myself to your dumbass,” you whisper yelled at him, stalking over to his side of the desks. But he moved the notebook away, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin that told you just how much fun he was having, he said, “Huh, I didn’t know your pretty little head knew how to multi-task.”

You opened your mouth for a second, processing that he called you pretty, before rolling your eyes. “Must be hard to imagine anything with your smooth brain. Now give me my notebook back.” 

In the background, you heard Jameson screaming to some poor soul on the phone. You hoped it at least covered up your bickering with Parker. But it wouldn’t be able to drown out the sound of you strangling him, which you were now seriously considering as he held up a finger to you. 

In a calmer voice, he asked, “Are you really doing a piece on Ellis Beaumont?”

Scoffing, you reached over and grabbed your notebook from his grasp. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight, hopefully mentally perceiving the threats running through your mind. As you returned to your desk, you glanced once more at him — and got caught on something in the look he gave you.

“Yes,” you told him before sitting down, leaving Parker and any distractions on that side of the half-wall. The last thing you heard was a sigh before you put your headphones in.

For the rest of the day, you finished writing up your notes and your other assigned work. In between projects, you secretly continued researching everything you could about Beaumont and where those donations went. Site after site returned empty, most of them just filled with propaganda for his non-profit.

With weary eyes and a fuzzy mind, you finally found something as everyone in the office began to finish up. You wiped a hand down your face, a weight lifting from your shoulders when you discovered an address.

Searching through countless websites, some of which you probably shouldn’t have been using your work computer for, you combed through records of donations to Stronger Together. Most listed City Hall or Beaumont’s address in their donation. But one other address continued popping up more than a few times — somewhere in upper Manhattan, far from where the organization would operate from.

If you were listening to Alice’s advice to follow your heart, you would’ve stayed home. Your pounding pulse yelled at you that going to check out this address after sunset was the worst idea you’d ever had.

On your walk home and all through dinner, you pushed back against the trickling fear down your spine — caused by the ice-cold voice in the corners of your mind filled with every worst-case scenario. It only grew louder as you neared the address. 

You hadn’t done much field work before, or any that hadn’t just involved taking blurry pictures of Spider-Man and making New Yorkers talk to you. As you walked along the sidewalk with your shoes tapping against the cracked concrete, following the directions on your phone, you wondered whether you were cut out for this. You kept your head on a swivel and senses alert, but did you have any clue what you were going to do once you reached the building? No, not really.

You had come after dark, so breaking in certainly didn’t seem out of the question. And as much as you disliked thinking about him, knowing that Parker wouldn’t back away from this if he were here kept your legs moving. 

Before long, with a warm breeze at your back, you came up to a large warehouse. It sat in a pretty empty area — one with few people around that you could see. A few street lamps illuminated the space around it, the light stretching down a small alleyway next to the building. Craning your neck, you began walking down it, seeing whether you could peer in anywhere.

Your fingers brushed along the building’s side as you passed by several dark windows. Unable to spot anything through them, you crept toward the back. No workers, or anyone really, seemed to be there. Nothing except for a metal fire escape. It seemed to lead up to a door with more windows lining either side. Fluorescent lighting shone from inside. 

Swallowing hard, you forced your body to walk toward it. Each step you took up went slowly, trying to keep your feet silent as you climbed the stairs. Under the weight of the stars and night sky, even with the sounds of traffic passing by, each breath felt too loud.

Silently wishing to anyone that’d listen, you hoped no one stood on the other side as you slowly looked in. But you only found boxes — not all that surprising, but disappointment mingled with the relief coursing through your muscles. 

Hundreds of boxes sat throughout the warehouse, lining countless shelves. You made a guess that they probably weren’t storing any tools for fixing the infrastructure like Beaumont promised. But you wouldn’t be able to find out what they held without breaking in, something you didn’t think your nerves could take.

Though… someone else could show you what’s inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw a brief movement along the floor of the building. Someone moved into view, dressed in a black uniform and holding a clipboard in their hands. They walked to a shelf you could just barely see and opened up one of the boxes. They set the clipboard aside to pull out something… long and metal. At the end appeared to be a claw of some sort–

Internally, you winced, instantly able to recognize it from all your articles. It was one of Doc Ock’s arms. The other side was full of fraying wires, no doubt ripped apart from a fight with Spider-Man. God, why did everything always have to come back to Spider-Man? 

And, in that moment, you must’ve pissed off some god of fate to deserve this irony. As you were about to pull out your phone to capture the evidence, your thought alone summoned the man. A web attached to the worker, the other end coming from the red and blue superhero crouched on a support beam. Within a second, he pulled them up to the ceiling and cocooned them in webbing to dangle there — the scene forcing an involuntary gasp escape your lips.

Spider-Man had jumped down with supernatural grace and looked like he was going to investigate the box further, but whipped his head toward you at your gasp. Your heart crawled into your throat, your hand snapping up to cover your mouth.

Racing down the fire escape, your scrambled thoughts tumbling around your head, you hurried back to the street away from what you’d witnessed. But before you could leave the alleyway, a flash of those dreaded shades of red and blue dropped down in front of you — your feet stumbling backward as you barely kept a startled scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey. Not here to hurt you. I do the opposite actually,” Spider-Man said, his hands up to show you he meant no harm. His voice sounded unnaturally deep, but blood rushed past your ears, clouding your senses. You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on getting out of there.

“But uh…” he continued, cautiously taking a single step closer, “I don’t think you live at this address. Is that right?”

You absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him. He’d caught you sneaking around, but was that technically even a crime? Most likely. But clearly, you both were after some pretty similar things. So, while nodding your head toward the warehouse, you quietly asked, “What’s in there?”

His head tilted to the side as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some no-no things. Which is probably why I should handle it, right?”

“Handle it how? By handing it over to the police?” you asked, a small jolt of panic rising in your chest. “What if it connects to something larger?” Your questions assumed that he didn’t exactly know where this warehouse came from and how it connected to Beaumont, but maybe not. Still, you couldn’t risk cutting this whole thing off early and breaking the investigation apart… and the story.

“Does it connect to something larger?” he asked, his gaze never seeming to leave you. You couldn’t tell much behind his mask, but the weight of those white eyes stayed focused on your face. They watched every microexpression crossing your face, despite the urge to hide from them.

Knowing you needed him on your side, or at least to not cover you in webs, you gave him a little more. Nodding, you said “Yeah, I think it does. I’m not sure how it all fits, but…”

“But?”

Pursing your lips, you let a breath pass before answering him. Jameson would kill you if he knew you were having this whole conversation without taking ‘photographic evidence’ and helping out Spider-Man. But that man was a prick anyway.

Letting out a long sigh, you said, “Check out Ellis Beaumont’s non-profit. I don’t think the donations are going where he says they are.”

He just cocked his head, but you moved around him, ready to leave this place and those watchful eyes. Your gaze avoided his as he let you pass toward the street, though he yelled out, “Do you need me to walk you home?” You just waved him off, your pace picking up. Still, he shouted a “Thank you!” for the information as you made the journey back to your apartment.

Unable to calm your body back to normal just yet, you found yourself jumping at every noise around you until your apartment door locked behind you. What you’d seen ran through your head again and again. 

What did Beaumont want with Spider-Man? Or was he working with the villains to get rid of Spider-Man? His money couldn’t just be going toward costume dress-up storage, but breaking into that warehouse alone was out of the question for you. Leave it to the superhero rather than risk your neck.

Your brain racked itself for answers, working to figure out what interest Spider-Man had in showing up at that warehouse anyway. Even into the next morning, these thoughts plagued your mind. It left you in a haze as you entered The Daily Bugle — the noise of the coffee machine and Jameson’s muffled yelling more distracting than usual.

Even more offputting was that sat at your desks was Parker, the second time he’d ever beaten you into the office. Immediately, his eyes found yours, but you didn’t have the energy to give him a sneer or a smart-ass comment. You just started up your computer, planning to type up your notes again. Your hand rubbed down your face as you waited for it to turn on, already anticipating the inevitable interruption.

Sure enough, Parker stuck his head over the half-wall, leaning his forearms along the top of it. His chin rested on them as he said, “You look rough.”

Without raising your eyes to him, you let out a long sigh. “Wow… Thanks,” you said, letting an unimpressed look take over your face. You opened your notebook, turning to the pages where you wrote every piece of information you could remember after the events last night.

Parker raised his hands up in surrender, as if he hadn’t insulted your appearance. “Jus’ saying, you seem a bit stressed. Need any help, sunshine?”

At that, you finally raised your gaze to meet his — his ruffled hair dipping over his forehead while waiting for your response. 

You squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing at his words. “...I’m not letting you take this story from me, Parker.”

“Hey, I could merely co-author this story with you,” he offered with that smirk of his. “And I’m sick of writing about Spider-Man’s favorite restaurants to order from. C’mon.” He dragged out the word, practically begging you.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you considered him for a moment and his offer. His mouth tightened, drawing your gaze down to his lips and the sharpness of his jaw. Not the time.

“You really want to help me?” When he nodded, you still didn’t believe him. With a scoff, you asked, “Are you going soft on me?”

A sharp laugh escaped his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. This would cost you a week’s worth of granola bars.”

“Aren’t you the one asking to join?” you questioned with a smile you couldn’t hide. When he didn’t budge despite his ridiculous demand, you just muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

The long groan he gave as he sat back down told you how he felt about your answer, but it was easier to ignore now that he wasn’t staring at you. Why he was so interested in this story made no sense to you — not that you thought about it long as you finally typed up your notes. 

Instead, you tried to figure out where to go next, where this warehouse might lead you. But a growing fear told you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, your research online not giving you someone to question or even contact information for Beaumont. This politician seemed to keep things annoyingly tight under wraps. 

As minutes slipped away while you ran into dead end after dead end in your searching, you internally debated whether to accept Parker’s help. Waves crashed in your stomach, the tide receding far away as if in anticipation of a tsunami — one threatening to destroy you. Letting him in meant risking your story, and risking the chance that he could get all the credit for your work.

As much as you hated the idea of sharing this with him, part of you thought you might’ve been in over your head. Especially after the run-in last night. And Parker certainly knew his stuff… sometimes. Not that you’d tell him that.

It was only once your search about Beaumont and that warehouse frustratingly turned up blank once more that you let out a sigh. It seemed it’d be a story with him or no story at all.

“Parker?” you called across the desks. 

The sound of his chair shifting joined his raspy, “Yeah?” You bit back a grin as you realized you’d woken him up from one of his frequent work naps. When he swiveled into view, the red spot on his cheek from where he must’ve laid it on his arms confirmed your suspicions. 

Still, you had to clear your tight throat before telling him, “You can help. But only if my name goes first, got it?” Before he could respond, you followed with, “And I take the lead on things, okay?” Your stare pierced his eyes, silently begging him to not take this from you.

The small laugh he gave loosened your tense shoulders just a bit, made your fists unclench. “Whatever you say goes…” he said, nodding with the most honest look you’d seen from him. “With some exceptions though. Cause you have a lot of bad ideas I’d like to veto.”

You wondered whether asking for Peter Parker’s help was one of those terrible, idiotic ideas. You hoped not.

@reidslovely