#this is just kinda what i'm thinking. not set in stone

[quitealotofsodapop]

Saw the notes... got inspired by the silly! MK would absolutely be confused over the baby stone monkeys but also really think the little clones are cute. He uses the explanation Wukong had given him about the babies being clones of an old friend he'd kept preserved until they eventually morphed into a pair of actual baby monkeys to the Noodle Gang. Tang is of course, extremely excited to meet Savage and Rumble because these are basically Sun Wukong's kids and the mystery of who the baby clones original self was gets added to the cork boars alongside Wukong's baby daddy!

Macaque, jealous and feeling betrayed: WHO DID YOU HAVE A CHILD WITH!?

Wukong: You, idiot.

Ha yes! Was rambling in the notes here about the Penumbra au (with some SlowBoiled sprinkled in).

MK rambles about the babies to the rest of the gang (and theorizing thats why Monkey King needed a successor), and the while gang are "aww"-ing at the thought.

The adults have concerns.

Pigsy: "Wait, how old are they? What is he feeding them?" MK, thinking: "Uhhh super tiny-old? Monkey King said the shadows he preserved turned into newborn babies some weeks ago. He keeps them in his shirt so I don't know how he feeds them." Pigsy, concern growing: "He's probably on that island without proper food for himself..." Sandy, also concerned: "And there's a lot of good vitamins one can't get from just fruit and transformed hair. He'll need some ginger tea." Pigsy, already in the kitchen: "And some soup! Tangy! We need some fish heads!" Tang, nerding out: "Are we forgetting the huge fact that these are newborn Spiritual Monkeys!? We're talking like baby unicorns here! This is a major discovery!" Pigsy, handing him a list: "Just get me these ingredients and I'll forgive your tab!" Tang, diligently grabs list and shopping bags: "Okie dokie!" MK: "Eh? Why tea and soup?" Mei: "Odds are the Monkey King is the babies' only source of food." MK: "They're eating him?!" Mei: "Bruh. Boobs." -_- MK, embarrassed: "AH. My bad." >_<

So yeah Sun Wukong quickly gets the adults knocking on his door with big pots of soup and tea for him to take. He's touched by the gesture, but a little startled by how fast the gang were to appear on his doorstep.

So of course MK has to deal with wanting to become stronger faster (can't do certain training when the twins are in the way), and runs into Macaque.

MK takes one look at the black fur, red face marking, and shadowy powers, and thinks "omg! he might be the shadow babies' other dad/clone-original!!" - but holds the knowledge to himself for the moment.

Eventually MK gets a text from Mei during his additonal training, and she sends him an adorable photo of the twins. Macaque overhears.

Macaque, very serious: "Who are they?" MK: "Oh! It's just my friend Mei!" Macaque: "No. I mean the baby monkeys." MK: "Oh haha. Well... the big reason Monkey King can't train me as hard as he can is cus he's got... them." Macaque, grabs phone and glares at the photo: "WITH WHOM?!" MK: "Whoa! You're uh... kinda upset." Macaque: "Of course I'm upset! My former ma- friend had cubs without me!" MK, thinking Mac cannot be that dense: "Wut." Macaque: "What's their names?!" MK: "Zàoyīn and Bàoliè." Macaque: "He named them Rumble and Savage?!"

This of course leads to a confrontation where Macaque has drained MK's powers and is now knocking on Wukong's door demanding to know who fathered his twins.

Wukong: (*opens door with the twins tucked into a skin-to-skin top. Looks a bit sleep-deprived.*) Macaque: (*angry frown*) MK: (*waves nervously cus Macaque dragged him over*) Wukong: "Wondered when you'd get here." Macaque: "Let me see them." Wukong: "Say please. You're not setting a good example." Macaque, forces self to calm down: "Ok. Please let me see them." Wukong: "Thats better." (*Wukong loosens his shirt, letting the twins' heads to poke out. The twins stretch awake as Wukong kisses their heads. A pair of six-ears flutter like that of a kitten as one yawns loudly.*) Macaque: (*quiet. eyes glistening*) Wukong: "Plums, are you crying?" Macaque, trying to hide tears: "Who- who did you have them with!?" Wukong & MK: "Wut." "Seriously!?" Macaque: "They're too beautiful to be mine!" Wukong, sighing: "You literally left behind two shadow clones before you left the island. Shadows that I... had trouble letting go of. And I might have broken some rules of magic to keep them around." Macaque: "You... donated your dao to preserve them??" Wukong: "Yeah. I didn't want to like... lose all of you just yet. But about a few weeks ago they sort of collapsed into themselves and popped out like this." Macaque, doing math and suddenly blushes: "OH." MK: "What oh?" Macaque: "Shadow clones aren't like hair clones. They aren't extensions of the original's body, but rather their soul. When Wukong donated his dao to my shadows - we accidentally, uh... inmaculada." MK: "Omg I was right! You are their dad!" Macaque: "Ok yeah. Uh, here's your power back by the way." MK: "Wut." Macaque: "I had this whole revenge plan in the works but uh, knowing that these little guys are here, I just can't." Wukong: "Aww. Is that the only reason?" (*flutters eyelashes*) Macaque, still blushed: "And I uh... kinda am really touched that you couldn't let go of my shadows after all this time." Wukong, smugly smiling: "Knew it." Rumble & Savage: (*fully awake, now grabbing Macaque's face and chirping excitedly!*)

Macaque quickly turns from "edgy shadow version of Monkey King" to "super-adoring dad" once he meets the twins properly.

Rumble and Savage love having their Papa back.

[violenciorp]

What if...? The Super Soldier Serum doesn't work and Steve doesn't become Captain America?

There is a 'What if…?' inspired (?) game ("""immersive story""") on the apple vision now. I have not played it (who the hell would buy an apple vision lmao) but I watched some lets plays (on youtube) and while I don't think the full experience is…. all that great, it does look very nice, seems congruent (canon-compliant?) with everything else from the What if...? show, AND there is a Steve plotline featuring Bucky, Hydra, Red Guardian and kinda Red Skull that has some interesting plot points that I feel are interesting both as character studies or as AU starting points, so I'll summarise and provide some badly screenshoted pictures as evidence 🥲 I'll put this under the read more just in case soemoen here does have 3.5k for useless equipment and wants to experience the 'game' themselves.

Basic set up of the little interactive experience/game; You get recruited by the Watcher to collect all infinity stones for… reasons, and to do that, you get zapped around different multiverses. To collect the power stone (purple), you get put into Siberia, where you learn the following: During the second World War, the allied forces tried to create a supersoldier to put a stop to the Nazis/Hydra -- just as they did in our universe

Unforunately, though, shit goes wrong, the serum doesn't work, and the machines explode, so that Steve doesn't become the hunk of a man we know and love but… well, red skull.

Don't get me wrong, he's still a good guy, but, in his own words: 'The allied forces had an ideal vision of a super soldier -- and that wasn't me.'

They basically didnt use them as propaganda because he's uggo now, lmao. Without touring as a motivational piece doing little shows, though, he also never really becomes Captain America.

And without a force to put their bundled hopes in, the allied forces fall apart, and Hydra wins (!) without a super soldier to stop them.

The timeline gets more fuzzy now, it is not clear to me if some/most/all of the events are meant to be happening at around WW2 time, or much later. 'Siberia 1988' was thrown around, but I'm honestly not sure if it's meant to be the date, or just some reference. However, one character shows up significantly aged at the end of the show, so it actually might be 1988, implying that Hydra did rule most of Europe (?) for 30-40 years. Either way, Hydra does start creating Super Soldiers using the purple Infinity Stone, the Power Stone. Steve, either on a solo-mission or sent by Shield (unclear), goes to Siberia to retrieve the stone, that is guarded by Red Guardian. Red Guardian refuses to give the stone to Steve, as 'the powers of the stone make monsters out of men', using it is "nothing to be proud of" and 'you don't look like scientist. you don't sound like scientist… well, uh… no, you have skull for face' (literal quote, lmao, love it), so they fight.

Steve looses the fight, BUT --- sees Bucky in one of the tanks, before he has to flee the scene, as he is just about to get his ass whooped.

Wanting to save his friend, Steve now helps you to collect all the stones, yadda yadda, intergalactic multiverse bullshit happens, blabla, i dont care. Once you do collect all the other infinity stones with some other marvel characters, there is a bit of a twist, a big showdown, and then you have two choices: Either, you give each hero the stone that they were after, or you "do the right thing" and destroy the stones.

If you go for the good ending and destroy the stone, Steve goes back to his universe. Without the stone being there to create all these Super Soldiers for Hydra Steve and Red Guardian team up to free Winter Soldier Bucky.

and together they form a 'nation-less alliance of superheros' to fight some bad guys which the red guardian calls the… musketeers.

[[It is unclear to me where Steve got a shield, considering that he absolutely didn't have one up to this point. I also wonder if 'nation-less' means that Steve rejects being an American here? Red Guardian not being American makes sense, Bucky not easily being allowed to return also makes sense with all the war crimes he committed, but I do like the idea of Steve doing the right thing here leads him to be a lot less patriotic than in our canon.]]

However: If you do give Steve the infinity stone, he brings it to SHIELD ---- which seems to be represented by the aged What if? model of Howard Stark from the second season of the show, making me believe that it might in fact be playing in 1988 --- which does lead the US to win the war against HYDRA, but also "unleashes the super soldier threat back home" with there being hundreds of supersoldier chambers being shown.

I'm assuming the implication is that shield = hydra or maybe just super soldiers = bad no matter where they are? Interestingly, there is no more mention of Bucky in this ending, so I guess Steve was too busy acquiring world domination or something to still care about him. Considering that Howard is his old-model here, this does imply that Steve only retrieves the power stone by the late 80's. Not sure what he has been up to for the 40 years until then -- was he also somewhere frozen? Do red-skull-supersoldiers just not age? --- but it does imply that Hydra was (openly!) in control of at least most of Central Europe for this entire time period, before the US finally had a chance to beat them.

They are definitly using the same models/assets as in the TV show, so I do wonder if we will see some of these elements in the next season, too, considering they already announced an episode featuring Bucky and Red Guardian. Overall, while I feel like it doesn't really fulfill the criteria of a good interactive game/experience, I found this plot line quite interesting, and having the serum fail Steve, and he therefore nor being the Golden Boy and rejected by the allied forces, plus the potential 40-year long rule of Hydra are super intriguing to me. Bucky and Red Guardian also not being created by the serum, but by the powers of the infinity stone also seem like an interesting starting point for some musings, AUs and fics. I also wonder what Hydra had been doing with Bucky for those 40 years for Steve not having known/heard about him in the mean time. Ie. if someone writes fanfic based on this, please send it to me haha. Or TL; DR: It's basically a "What if Steve was ugly?" (in the words of @tinaxpow )

[softgrungeprophet]

every day i go "maybe i should kill off xyz character" and then i go "but what if they could live instead"

[dan-crimes]

Me and my issue with always overcomplicating every character I make smh smh

I mean I think part the issue is that I wouldn't even know how I myself would react in a lotta situations cuz you have to think about the specific person, the environment, how I'm feeling in that moment (emotionally and physically), if other people are around and also the type of response I'm looking for

Like in the moment it's a no brainer for me but if I think about a moment in THEORY then I overthink it

Which also leads to me overthinking every possible interaction and response a character will make like idk how they would act in that situation! Is there some sort of backstory reason that they might have a certain reaction to that thing! Have they thought about this interaction before or are they going in without any preperations for this interaction! Do they think before they speak!! How am I suppose to write a character who doesn't think before they speak while I am literally thinking before they speak

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hi Jonny, if you don't mind I have a question about the TMA TTRPG! So I noticed that on the player's guide there's this guy, who my friends and I assumed is probably Jon. If it is him, is this a canon design, or more like some of the non-canon stuff that's in the merch?

So, I hope you don't mind if i use this ask to go a bit off on one. I'm not specifically dragging you (I'm actualy glad you asked, as I've thinking about posting on the topic), but all the discussion around the RPG art and how "official" or "canon" it might be is, to my mind, slightly silly.

First up, is it "official" art? I mean, yeah, its art for the officially licenced Magnus Archives RPG. This means Monte Cook Games have commissioned someone to do a beatiful illustration broadly based on some aspect, episode or character from the podcast and it goes in the book. But that's kinda all it means. "Official" is a legal distinction, not an artistic one. The fact that it's in an official product doesn't make it any less one artist's cool interpretation of a character that has only been vaguely described in audio.

Second, is it Jonathan Sims the Archivist? I mean, it's probably based on the idea of him, but it's certainly not set in stone. When we were first discussing art with MCG, we advised that character pictures be more vibes-based and not explicitly tied to specific people (ie. a portrait inspired by Tim wouldn't be captioned "This is Tim" and wouldn't be placed opposite a profile for Tim Stoker, archival assistant.) This was mainly because we wanted the artists to have plenty of freedom to interpret and not feel too tied down by the need to know everything about the podcast. But, to be frank, it was also because we know that there are a few fans out there that are kinda Not Chill about what they've personally decided these characters look like and can get a bit defensive over depictions that differ.

It strikes me as particularly strange to be having this discussion about art that's for a roleplying game book. Something that's explicitly and solely designed to give you the ability to play in your version of the Magnus universe. The idea that this is the thing where we'd for some reason try to immutably establish unchangable appearances for these characters would be pretty funny if some folks weren't taking it so seriously. Similarly ridiculous is the idea we could reasonably have said to MCG "We'd love for you to make a huge beautiful RPG book of our setting... Just make sure you don't depict any of the iconic characters or events from it!"

But... is it "canon"? Now, to my mind, this highlights a real weakness in a lot of fandom thinking around "canon", which is that it generally has no idea what to do with adaptations. All adaptation is interpretation, and relies on taking a work and letting new creatives (and sometimes the same ones) have a different take on it. Are the appearances of the Fellowship of the Ring in the LOTR movies "canon"? How much, if at all, does that matter? Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere was originaly a 90s BBC series made with a budget of 50 pence; is anyone who makes fanart of Mr Croup that doesn't look like the actor Hywel Bennet breaking canon? What about the novel that describes the character differently? Or the officially licenced Neverwhere comic where he looks like neither of them? Which is his "canon appearance"?

Canon is an inherently messy concept, and while it is useful for a creative team trying to keep continuity and consistency within a creative work, for thinking about anything beyond that it tends to be more hinderance than help.

Anyway, all this is to say that the above picture and all the others in the RPG are exactly as canon as every other picture you've ever seen of the Archivist.

[noxtivagus]

thinking abt maybe i cld unmute for once this thurs for uwu clear before the static breaks off hmmm

[wachtelspinat]

i can't help but feel like my drawing days are kind of over. not entirely, i'll still be drawing from time to time. and deffo not because i want to. but i'm having this exact same feeling since mid 2022, since i was really struggling with my elective period, i kind of disconnected with art there and never truly found my way back. on top of everything that came after - moving, starting a job and working to be good at it which leaves such little room for other things because i can't handle my life well - there is just so much horrible shit going on. and i'm having a hard time comprehending it.

a part of me also feels very stupid for drawing one thing for almost 4 years now constantly, but another part of me knows "hey, but this makes you happy". it's a constant battle in my head because online spaces are like school grounds, and i don't actually wanna stand in the corner as that one kid that just can't shut up about that one character. but then again all i ever did was drawing fanart so... what does it. who gives a shit. be cringe and be free alright. but it kinda feels so hollow, esp. when you're at it for so long. a lot of mutuals move on. some are not even active anymore anywhere. and i wonder what happened. plus a huge chunk of the tone of the fandom has changed. also with the source material getting butchered so hard (since the release of ow2) it just kills the fun. playing this game used to be fun. playing this game was one thing that helped me getting through the last meters of university. it's like watching the downfall of the simpsons again without making the comparison too set in stone, just... this thing that used to be decent and nice and watching it getting ruined in real time (broken promises about pve, the recent gameplay changes?? the lore was fucked up from the start but they kind of tried, now it's just skins for 20+ dollars) while still having feelings for the characters is shit. anyway...

i recently went through a big folder of stuff i'd drawn at the age of 12-15 and there were so many fucked up but cool monster and cyborgs designs and just silly stupid stuff and all i could think of was that i felt so distanced from it, like i don't even know i think this is normal? because a lot of time has passed and a lot has happened and i knew i've drawn all this but i wasn't able to locate the person who did in my present me now and... it's just so normal that things move constantly forward but i feel like i missed huge chunks and passed a few stops and now i'm kind of lost.

i don't even know what i'm trying to say here anymore. i just feel sad because it feels like sth is slipping out of my grasp or sth has changed tremendously and i don't know how to make damage control.

i keep trying tho, i try to draw once a week at least. it's just like as soon as i take a step back and look at it i don't feel it at all. gonna continue tho, until it makes sense again i hope.

[moonstruckme]

hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius. 

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara. 

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?” 

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge. 

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?” 

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat. 

“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye. 

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears. 

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either). 

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?” 

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.” 

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily. 

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home. 

Sirius nods. 

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek. 

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest. 

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?” 

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side. 

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?” 

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him. 

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home. 

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair. 

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs. 

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?” 

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

 “It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching. 

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.” 

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.” 

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently. 

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers. 

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.” 

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.” 

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow. 

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.” 

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.” 

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?” 

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing. 

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?” 

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.” 

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.” 

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

[thegnomelord]

Hello there! I'm a new anon, kinda scared to ask and spill all of my weird ass fantasies that I can come up with, but I somehow found the courage to do so.

After reading through the soft sex fic with Makarov (and omfg I am going CRAZY over it) I just randomly came up with an idea involving that.

So hear me out (aka let me just be delusional)...

You, a member of 141, currently stand in the interrogation room, your back facing the door as you stared down at the one and only Vladimir Makarov himself. It was honestly a miracle that you had been able to capture him, and you still had no idea how the hell the rest of your team had managed it.

You were currently their last hope at getting some sort of information out of him, and by now the others knew very well by now how talented you were at getting it out of prisoners (albeit they didn't quite know what your methods were), hence why you were here in this room.

At this point you might as well have tried everything, these including the good old torture methods (which you noticed he seemed to quote like for some reason, perhaps he was a masochist, you weren’t completely sure), intimidation, asking politely (which wouldn't you know, didn't work), and practically everything you could think of.

As you racked your brain for any sort of other ideas, you could hear some sort of taunt from the other, and that must have set you off or something along those lines as you found yourself suddenly pinning the bastard down on the desk (you must have unlocked his handcuffs at one point during it, or perhaps he had already managed to unlock them beforehand, you weren't paying attention).

You wanted to think that the other was surprised, even just a little bit, but he wasn't, having probably expected you to have a small outburst.

Maybe you would have to resort to that. That one method that none of the others had seen in action, but one that if they did, you'd definitely get in a lot of trouble from. At least it always seemed to work.

So that's how you found yourself slowly fucking the other, not at all causing any pain, and although you'd expect the cold metal table would still inflicted just a little, you had taken the precaution to place something soft under the other to ensure that he couldn't get what he wanted. This was torture, even if in the eyes of others (not that they'd ever get to see this sight) it'd be much better, but no, it wasn't. You were well aware that the other wished for it to be harsh, having picked up on it earlier (the sick bastard), so you did the complete opposite. You weren't exactly used to it, but it was a last ditch effort.

So yeah thanks for reading whatever the hell that was :)

Idk how to continue it.

- ⨂ (I swear if that symbol has already been taken)

No no dude this is so good! SOrry it took me a lil while to respond lol, but you got my brain worms going brrrrrr so I'm just continuing it :Dd.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, Vladimir Makarov x male reader, short ficlet

You are so getting discharged for this.

"Is this what you wanted?" You ask under your breath, voice husky and raw. You grip his hip gently, your other hand keeping his tied wrists pinned to the scratchy blanket covering the cold table. "All that snark, all those insults," You slowly grind your hips, cock lazily scrapping against his walls and making him groan. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's not like he can talk with his tie gagging him. It's the softest material you had on hand, and it works to ensure Makarov doesn't bite you or himself. You're smart, despite him thinking on the contrary, more than the gruff animals that had captured him. No, you're clever. Clever enough to realize bloodshed and pain are not the stones that pave Makarov's road to hell.

Makarov trembles beneath you, teeth clenching on the fabric, desperate to get his lip between his teeth so he could bite it raw. He can't. Hell he can barely stifle the groans and moans, chest heaving to swallow the sound before it can stumble past his open mouth when your head grinds down on his prostate. Drool runs down his chin, precum leaking on his belly where his cock is trapped between your belies.

He wants to curse you out, wants to get his hands around your throat and squeeze until you choke on your own blood. But he only manages a small grunt, tear blurred eyes glaring up at you. His legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into your back.

A lick of pain races up your spine, but you don't fall for it, languidly rolling your hips. You'd taken your time to stretch him out with what you had, prepping him thoroughly even when he'd trashed and tried to kick you. You're glad you did, now Makarov can't ignore the stretch of his hole, your massive cock moulding his insides to your shape. It's just raw unadulterated feeling, please assaulting his mind whenever you bottom out and your cock bulges his stomach without any pain; so sweet it's sickening to him.

He'd kick himself at how the disgustingly sweet pleasure has his cock twitching, body winding tight as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. But his mind is starting to go numb, the hate he feels shrouded by the nearing edge of bliss. He nearly seizes off the table when you wrap your calloused hand around the base of his cock, squeezing until he's just at the cusp of pain.

"Nu-uh." You growl and stop, cock twitching deep inside him. Leaning down to press gentle kisses across his throat that burn him like acid. "You're not getting off easy." You growl, kissing the corner of his lip. "Not until you give me what I need." You look at him expectantly.

He bares his teeth, swinging his head to try and headbutt you, but you pull your head just at the right time.

"Have it your way." Your grip relaxes, starting to jerk him off at the same pace of your languidly rolling hips. His head rolls back, his best attempt at a hateful sound escaping him when his head rests on the soft blanket. He hates it, tries to struggle as best he can but it's fruitless as you just hold him down, forcing him to just take it, to just suffer this gentle torture.

You may be discharged for this. But fuck, you'll make him suffer before you are.

[chxrrydrxp]

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

(Jason x Dicks Ex! Reader)

blurb coming soon yall

word count: 1.3k

chapter 1

chapter 2

( reader is pissing me off like I know I made her but I'm really bouta rock her shit)

Jason shut the door behind him with a click. You sat back down on your couch, once again bringing your knees to your chest. “I'm fine Jason. You didn't have to come all the way here.”

He took a seat beside you, leaning comfortably on the soft cushions. You stared into your hands. A few minutes passed, and the silence between you began to make you fidgety. From the corner of your eye, you could see him mindlessly fumbling with your keys.

The silence burned a little longer until you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. “How long will it go on like this?” You questioned. Jason removed a keychain that had your initial and began prodding at it. “For as long as you let it,” he said with his eyes still on the letter.

You glanced over at him, trying to find something wrong with what he said. But you couldn't. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. “But I love him.” You felt him flinch for a second, but it must've been a shiver from the cold.

He finally turned to look at you, then slowly lifted a hand to wipe away a stray tear. He leaned further into the cushion and looked up at the ceiling. “Is love enough?” You sniffled and stood up from the couch. “I need some air, you wanna go for a walk?”

...

If there was one thing all Gothamites could agree on, it was that Gotham always looked better at night. At nights when you can't see the polluted air, and it's harder to see the trash flooding the sidewalks, or the occasional dead body that often gets mistaken for a hobo. Gotham had a beauty that few understood. Its beauty didn't come from the visible gap in the social hierarchy that kept the nightlife…relevant to say the least. Its beauty shines from the cracks. The little imperfections on the sidewalk allowed pretty flowers to bloom from within. The hidden alleys and caves are covered in spores and overgrown vines. Somehow you ended up stumbling past stubborn weeds in some wet alley that smelled of… never mind you didn't even wanna think about it. “Jason, what the hell is this?” You wiped your hands on your jacket.

“You'll see, just keep up. Oh, and watch your step or you might lose a leg. Potholes.” You blinked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck Jason? I said I wanted to go on a walk, not lose my leg.” He ignored you. “Found em.”

You made your way over to him, leaning over his shoulder. “What? mushrooms?” You glanced down at the far end of the stone alleyway. “All of this just to look at some mushrooms?”

“Not just any Mushrooms, they're luminous.” You turned his head over to look at you with your eyebrows furrowed. His oblivious expression instantly evaporated any frustration this trip brought you. “I can't with you…” You let out a soft laugh. “If this was your attempt to distract me from my recurring misery, it worked.” Jason grinned and kneeled to the family of mushrooms huddled in the moist corner. “Don't touch em’ they've got a sting that hurts like a bitch.” He pulled out a plastic bag and put on a leather glove. “What are you doing??” He broke the mushroom off from the stem. “Got a friend that's into this kinda stuff.”

“What..the..-" Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name set in the contact made your heart drop. Jason must've sensed your hesitation, because he added, “Go ahead.” You answered the phone, backing up behind a wall for privacy. “Dick?” No answer. You heard shuffling in the background, along with laughter. A woman's laughter. You repeated his name to no avail. You realized you recognized the female voice to be Dick's coworker.

The one who just happens to be the topic of your argument with him. You hung up the phone and stared at the other side of the mossy stone walls. You heard shuffling, and Jason came to stand in front of you, bag in hand. “You good?” “He's with her right now.

Guess he accidentally butt-dialed me. Huh. Maybe he did it on purpose. Perhaps to knock some obvious sense into my head.” Jason signed, running his fingers through his hair. “Wanna go find out?” Your heart sank. “W-what?” You questioned as if this wasn't exactly what you were thinking. the second he asked, you'd already decided what your answer was. You needed this.

You know you did. Maybe if you witnessed the cheating first-hand it'd give you the answer you begged from him. "What if they're just working, I can't just assume-.” Jason now stood closer, gripping your arm sleeve. “What the hell is wrong with you?” “I don't know what you're-” He gripped your arm tighter, but not enough to hurt you.

“Don't gimme that. What, you're gonna just ignore this one as well? We could go there right now. You'll finally be able to see it with your own eyes, and you're not gonna go?”

He didn't notice the tears that began quickly streaming down your cheeks. You fought to keep your voice steady. “I know. I know damn it. I just…can't.” He stared into your eyes for a hard minute, then dropped your hand. “Fuck it. Don't go then.

But I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

You looked down at your feet, speechless. Jason sighed. “Come on, I'm taking you home.”

Silence. The entire walk back home was filled with silence, all the way up until you both reached your front door. Jason dug his hands in his pockets, avoiding your eyes as you searched for any sympathy. “Jason.” He looked up, maintaining his silence. Maybe for a second he'd hoped you'd invite him in. Instead, “Please don't say anything to Dick. Just leave it alone, alright? Please.” He hated the desperation in your quivering voice. It sounded like you were on the brink of shattering into nothing. He simply nodded, and turned away. “Be safe,” was all he said before walking away. You shut your door, dropping your things to the floor and sitting at the dining room table. You hesitantly opened your phone, and to your surprise, saw a text from Dick.

Dick: hey, you awake? i wanna talk.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You opened the message and saw that he was typing.

Dick: can you come over?

So that's exactly what you did. You picked up your things, and walked out the door, not noticing Jason in the distance, leaning against the rusted bars that fenced your apartment.

tag list: @12134z03 @xxsweetnlowxx @broadwayotakufairy @harleycao @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @calicocat45

[my-own-walker]

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

+

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

+

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

[risingsuntarot]

1--2

3-4

General Messages & Advice !!

⚠️TW Quick mention of s*icidal ideation⚠️

I honestly had no set plan for this reading negl so I kinda just pulled out some cards to describe the collective energies and give them some advice sorry if this is long !! This took me quite a while so any love would be greatly appreciated!! Thanks for reading 💜

Excuse any typos :+//

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile ONE

---Cards pulled---

Ace of cups/Queen of Coins/2 of Coins

---Clarification---

9 of Coins/7 of Coins/8 of Wands

I see you're able to either barely able hold onto your emotions and new beginnings or you manage them quite well no inbetween

Youre extremely intelligent, patient yet fast and direct, dedicated and multifaceted it may have taken a lot to get to this point although

Im sensing a lot of emotional sensitivity yet you are perceived as stone when you feel like glass

"Petite, Cute, Princess, Marilyn monroe, Dainty" maybe youre described as such?

Strong sense of justice and very dependable, able to maintain balance

Maybe you feel lost inside? S*icidal ideation ? Or loneliness is a big factor

Possible lack of belief in change and self confidence

Im getting Hopeless romantic or dissatisfaction in love life if im being honest

No inspiration for life :'+(

Unstable Family background or relationships

Youre extremely pessimistic arent you? Im so sorry but i feel genuine pain hurt and the urge to cry almost? But something wont allow me to

Suppressed emotions or memories :+((

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Eagle "see from a higher perspective"

Air Gaurdian "Shift your perception"

Lord "Take charge with authority"

High Priest "Intend ans Create"

There is a need for the sun and nature for playing a huge part in your healing, maybe its seasonal depression or simply anxiety or the "no inspiration for life" thats here

Bed rot could be a thing

There is a need to release old habits desires and ego

Confide in a masculine figure in your life or a masculine figure sees your distress (Gender doesn't matter its all energy)

Protection is needed and maybe a nice cleanse, maybe a cedar bath?

Again seasonal depression is coming up lol

You could be either a pieces or one of the Air signs

Take pride in your appearance, in the card she has long flowing black hair and stunning eyes!! Piercings too? Specifically a left nose piercing

Over thinking/pondering lol

Possible past friends or connections have ended badly?

Opportunities will only open up when you open your eyes and see that what you choose to see in the world if what youll perceive and experience

Lord of the rings/DND/Elden Ring/LARPing?

Rams could be significant or Aries sign!!

Learn a new instrument!! Make more art but with your own style ? Maybe youre in a art achool that doesnt allow for much individuality? But being a proud ab your individuality here is important!!

Birds are an important sign here, look out for feathers, hawks or eagles!!

If youre indigenous/Native/Aboriginal you may be receiving an Eagle Feather from an elder or during ceremony?! What an honor oml

Willie Jack from reservation dogs Vibes !!

---Channeled Songs---

LVL up - David strickland, Drezus, Aspects, prognosis

This came on during writing the eagle feather bit a lyric that caught my attention was

"Been a problem, Still a problem

But problems are what you need to grow"

Runaway - Lil peep

"Everybody act like they care, Why the fuck do everybody act like they care"

When I'm Gone - Eminem

"Just know that I'm looking down on you smiling

And I didn't feel a thing,

So, baby, don't feel no pain

Just smile back"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

PILE TWO

---Cards pulled---

The hermit/Knight of wands/8 of wands

---Clarification---

9 of cups/The Empress/Strength

Im getting like lost rebellion? And being unhealed and hurt inside from past trauma's specifically abandonment, neglect or betrayal from authority figures or those you had trusted

Feeling empty and misguided despite only trusting yourself, and no one seems to want to listen to your advice/experiences leading you to feel isolated and forgotten in a way?

Maybe you're a party animal, possible drinker and/or just popular/known in social settings

There is heavy overindulgence in emotionally fufilling things, specifically overspending and maybe other possible addictions (sleep, food, drugs etc)

Mother/Feminine figure is very important in your life

You look to them for approval of many things but they may have been not caring about your emotional needs or satisfaction rather they cared more about your hidden strengths and "beast inside" ?? Or even how "weak" they perceived you, they may have been disappointed at your strengths and abilities, n maybe they put you in some kind of martial arts or boxing despite your disinterest in it?

Quick to move on from situations!! Yet indecision and regret is coming through Strongly

Impatient with skills and talents that dont turm out they way you wanted so perfectionist type vibes

You are a clear communicator but tend to be rather impulsive with decisions or say one thing and do a completely different thing

Extreme harshness towards oneself and heavy judgement too :+(

Feeling exposed? Like all eyes are on you yet you dont want them

I feel a facade of confidence but there is true confidence coming through by the tiniest bit? yet it's heavily based on the feminine figures perspective in your life one with authority also your own perspective on yourself

Lots of self hatred and anger

Family oriented, getting protective yet detached energy tho

Cancer by my chemical romance came on so that song may be relevant?

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Wise One "Grow within your current situation"

Mountains "Stand your ground"

Stargazer "Set your sights higher"

Direction guardian "Choose your path"

Owls maybe significant to you and other avians such as ravens

The wise one card depicts a woman with feathers in her gray hair, description of someone possibly?

Also a crescent moon is atop the owls head so maybe Athena or Greek mythology is important to you

I sense there was a lot of hardship in your life, ups and downs, peaks and valleys yet you choose to persevere and stay strong

I see you have may have been passed down a gift having to do with dreams, keep a journal and look into meanings of those dreams!! Also maybe astrology is something you love to look into or have an interest in ?

Although something is blocking this gift from its fullest potential i believe there is healing or a cycle to be closed off before youre allowed to fully tap into it !! It'll take time and work on your part

As of now you have many choices to make in many areas of life, youre heavily protected by your guides and loved ones, the direction guardian is depicted with a Seraphim as described by the hebrew prophet Ezekiel!!

Specifically in Ezekiel 28:11-19 is where the seraphim is described

You have choices, this card is to remind you that YOU have the power of your own path and direction

---Channeled Songs---

Cancer - MCR

"Baby I'm just soggy from the chemo

But counting down the days to go

It just ain't living

And I just hope you know

That if you say (if you say)

Good-bye today (good-bye today)

I'd ask you to be true (I'd ask you to be true)

'Cause the hardest part of this

Is leaving you"

No place to hide - Korn

"Some will look at the time I looked back into my life

You wanna touch me to see what's in my eyes

Why do you make me remember my hate, all this shame?

Don't you hate me? Sometimes"

I-E-A-I-A-I-O - SOAD

"Mine delusions acquainted,

Bubbles erotica,

Plutonium wedding rings,

Icicles stretching,

Bicycles, shoestrings,

One flag, flaggy but one,

Painting the paintings of the alive."

Although this seems like nonsense many fans believe its abbreviations or like code!! Soo...

M D E = Media and so on

The sentence comes together as:

"Media back-end power is bullshit, opposing force for the power of propaganda"

Stole this^^^ from genuis btw lmao

Theres the "lost rebel" part lol

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

PILE THREE

---Cards pulled---

2 of swords/The Chariot/10 of Wands

---Clarification---

Ace of Swords/Knave of Coins/6 of wands

I feel more a message for this pile? And i do apologize but it is quite shorter than the rest but I will try my best to deliver both tho

You seem to be a very balanced person with clear morals and judgement, you have an ability to see all shades of gray in a black and white world maybe you work in the justice system? Or are dealing with the justice system ?And this stresses you out greatly yet you maintain hope for all that you see and deal with even if you see repeating injustices to those around you

Maybe PTSD is a factor here too, overthinking your own trauma or others

Anyways despite your position here you choose this pile for a reason !! You offer people truth and often give closure to cycles that needed to end

With the 2 of coins tho i think there is some imbalance between what you can and cannot do ? If that makes sense, like you can heal others or give them justice but cannot do the same for yourself :+(

Anyways the message i sense from this pile is pretty straight forward, you are giving someone (or yourself!!) the chance or closure to heal once more and whatever you may be waiting for is coming in quite quick although I feel there may be someone who may come in to sabotage the whole thing so be careful about who you choose to reveal this information to

They may offer a trade of some sort?

A deal, hush money or simply intimidation

Up your protection and be aware of fake friends yet still remain hopeful about the outcome because i see it turning out in your favor

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Snake "Shed old skin"

Protection Guardian "Drop your Shields"

Winter "Take care of your needs"

High Priestess "Harness mystic power"

Again straightforward, beware of fake Friends and deals with strings attached my advice here is to up your protection and stand your ground!!

Drop your gaurd with those who you KNOW you can trust, you may need ro let out some stresses and emotions? Because the card winter is all about needs and hibernation so sleep well, eat and take some time to relax !!

Also might be an indication that whatever this situation is it may have happened in the winter/colder months

While in this time of self care and healing strengthen your knowledge and strengths learn how to master them !!

Your dreams and own special psychic gifts are important and potent !! Use them for yourself at this moment in time use that healing energy for yourself

Have confidence in yourself and know and own your protection because again you are heavily protected at this time you will most likely know who to stay away from very soon

Follow you intuition and what it tells you !!

---Channeled Songs---

The bird and the worm - The Used

[Whispered Post-Chorus] "Don't tell on me, don't tell on me. No, don't you tell on me, please. It's okay, don't tell on me, please..."

I find it interesting that its not the actual audible lyrics but if you listen to the song this is what the whispers are saying so...take it as it resonates

Spiders - SOAD

"Approaching guiding light

Our shallow years in fright

Dreams are made, winding through my head"

Bad dreams might be significant to you? Please try to relax good things are coming !!

Mama - MCR

"You should have raised a baby girl

I should've been a better son

If you could coddle the infection

They can amputate at once

You should've been

I could have been a better son"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile Four

---Cards pulled---

5 of cups/4 of wands/Knave of coins

---Clarification---

8 of wands/6 of cups/Knave of wands

I believe there currently is dissatisfaction with your love life or offers within love at this moment or even just impatiently waiting for your current partner/interest to "make a move"

There isnt a lot of hope or faith in the connection on your part but i do see this person is interested they just operate differently and have some concerns

Mostly having to do with being used for their material gain, name position and/or authority

They do see this connection quite successful but they hate being put on a pedestal, due to this they wont have the guts to come forward if they do!! It will most likely be impulsive or very confusing and indirect which might leave both of yous flustered mainly them

This might be over drinks because my face is warming up lol

They see you as the four of wands and 6 of cups what a wonderful pair of cards together!!

But they see your disappointment and or pulling away from their energy which is turning them off easily but they still have their eyes on you

They have no time to be a chaser or to be chased this person is quite serious in their relationships so dont play childish games, play stupid games and win stupid prizes right?

They have come to a decision on their own but its also up to them when this information is revealed to you directly

Also there seems to be a sort of distrust with relationships on either sides which needs to be addressed before hand

Communication maybe be an issue

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Medicine Guardian "Be open to healing information"

Elder "Healing through lineage"

Peacekeeper "Harmonious resolution is possible"

Lady "enjoy growth a reap rewards"

I feel like time is needes to open up tp yourself and heal some issues on your side first, become the best possible version you can before you can move on with this

I see that this connection may heal cycles in your family and generational trauma possibly?

Its your job to keep cool despite the circumstances now and remember to mediate and that peace is always an option. Not every battle is worth fighting

However this goes you will be happy with what you see in the mirroe nonetheless!! Enjoy your hardwork and healed state

---Channeled Songs---

Fed Up - Ghostmane

"I'm fed up with the fame

I'm sick of reading my name in any other way than I intended

Fed up with all of these motherfuckers misunderstandin' me

I'm fed up with the ones that try to say you a fan of me

But then they turn their back and mothafuckers abandon me

You think I'm sitting high with everything, but now can't you see?

I'm livin' in reality, a struggle, not fantasy

I'm in a million-dollar couch, back then I was in a van"

No you girls - Franz Ferdinand

"Sometimes I say stupid things

But I think, well, I mean I

Sometimes I think the stupidest things

Because I never wonder

Oh, how the girl feels

Oh, how the girl feels"

Driven Under - Seether

"Must be something on your mind

Something lost for me to find

Do you know I'm faking?"

I feel this is more the distrust with their previous relationship possibly?

Also this lyric

"We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face

I need you, I breathe you

I can't go through this all again

We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face

I need you, I breathe you

I can't go through this"

Also pile 3 may have some messages?? I accidentally typed pile three for this one? :+//

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

[deconstructthesoup]

It's Black Friday, which means I'm, of course, thinking about Starkid... and I have a theory that the specific order that the LiB are always listed in (Pokotho, Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblephem, Wiggoth Y'Wrath) are, in fact, the order of how powerful they are, from least to greatest.

Let's start with Pokey. Now, on the surface, yeah, being able to completely take over people and turn them into hollow shells that speak your voice may be pretty damn powerful, but I think this actually works to the LiB's detriment. Think back to what Hidgens said, way back in TGWDLM---the existence of the hivemind would result in world peace, because if they're all under one mind, one "Singular Voice," there's nothing to fight about... but the LiB are all about sowing chaos, driving people to ruin. And if Pokey takes over everyone, there's nobody left to mess with. Even Webby outright compares Pokey to the rest of his brothers, which speaks a lot to how they see him---short-sighted, close-minded, and probably a little selfish. (I could also bring up the fact that unlike the others, he seems a lot more serious and even somber in his infliction, tying into his stone-face mask, but that's a whole other thing.) He's also, interestingly enough, one of two LiB who weren't introduced by way of Sniggles---even Nibbly got a little song from two of them after he did his Honey Queen munching---so maybe that means something? Idk.

Blinky definitely seems to have a good deal of power, if the horrors going on in Watcher World are anything to go by, but it also seems kinda... limited. From what we can see (heh), Blinky just operates out of this theme park, and unlike the others? He actually got defeated. Alice and Bill broke out of the effects, flooded Watcher World, and made it out with their bond strengthened rather than broken. Compare this with Pokey succeeding in taking over the world in TGWDLM---even if he failed later in Yellow Jacket---Tinky easily pulling the rug out from Ted's feet in Time Bastard, Nibbly snacking on Linda without so much as a second thought in Honey Queen, and Wiggly fucking starting a nuclear war in Black Friday despite his cult getting defeated and him not actually manifesting, you gotta wonder... what's up with Blinky failing? But I think his human look in NPMD speaks to that---it's a very laid-back look, and I saw someone suggest that he (or she, here, I guess) is trying to emulate the type of teen who's just there to chill, sit back, and watch TV. Maybe Blinky's whole deal is that he's fairly passive, and just wants to watch the chaos happen while he nudges some folks in the right direction. I could be completely wrong, of course.

Now, Tinky as the brother who's smack-dab in the middle actually makes a lot of sense. His domain is time itself---that's nothing to sneeze at! He's incredibly devious, and he always seems to get what he wants! His specialty is driving people insane! But when you look at the fact that he seems a little too chaotic, even for his brothers, and the fact that his eldritch form is, uh... kinda tame, since it's literally just a yellow goat, you have to wonder if Tinky suffers from middle-child syndrome. He's powerful, sure, but he's weird. Either he gets overlooked or he's just there to be along for the ride---I'm just guessing this based on the fact that he had, like two lines in The Summoning, even though he's probably the reason the messed-up timeline in Hatchetfield exists. He's just the crazy middle child, and honestly? That works. Good for him.

Nibbly, I think, is the only LiB (aside from our tentacle boi) who is explicitly stated to be considered "unique," with a power set that automatically puts him on a different level than a lot of his brothers. He's the only one who can regularly manifest in our reality, which makes him the only one who can physically affect the real world---and sure, that means eating pagent winners, but it could also mean a shitton of other things. It's kind of amazing that with his constant hunger and the power to manifest on Earth once a year, he only limits himself to one sacrifice... and maybe that's the point. Maybe the sacrifice only exists because Nibbly used to use that night to cause as much devastation as possible, and he's calmed down since then. Which, uh... yeah, scary thought.

And, yeah, Wiggly is obvious. He's in charge, he makes the decisions, he's always revered over the others---it's pretty clear that he's the most powerful brother, and though everything he does in Black Friday speaks to that, I have a feeling that we don't actually know the extent of Wiggly's true power... and maybe, that's the point. The other LiB get clear-cut domains---control, surveillance, time, and hunger, with not a lot of room for wiggle room, if you'll forgive the pun---but for Wiggly, it's not so obvious. We know that his line in The Summoning is "Wiggly wants his wrath," but it's not just wrath that he preys on. In Black Friday, he uses what people want to become strong, quite literally marketing himself as the solution to all of their problems. In NPMD, he asks Steph, Pete, and Grace for the thing they cherish. He's not just wrath, but greed and desire, and that adds a punch. Also, that extra bit of complexity makes him line up perfectly as a devil figure.

And considering all of this, you have to wonder---where does Webby fall in all of this? Is she stronger than her brothers, and it's just that they outnumber her, or is she weaker? Is she older or younger (this might've been answered, I'm not as caught up on livestream lore as some may be)? Is it just her in the White, or does she have sisters? She's described as "A Queen in White," not "The Queen in White," which points to there maybe being more, but why haven't we seen more? Why is it just Webby fighting against her brothers, and why can't she do more?

*pauses*

Wow. Okay. Jesus, that got away from me.

Anyways, the Hatchetfield saga has super cool horror worldbuilding

[dailyadventureprompts]

Why do you focus on 5e? Obviously your content can be used in any other rpg that can accomdate a fantasy setting but it's very clear you don't like 5e all that much, considering the amount of patches you make to fix flaws in its design?

Friend, I think you've misunderstood me: I love 5th edition, I love it the way nerds love objectively kinda bad genre shows or middleaged men love broken down sportscars that remind them of their fathers. Love in this instance manifests as a desire to improve, to iterate, to imagine a less flawed version of the thing and through my efforts bring that version into being.

5e is flawed, but it's flawed in JUST the right way for my brain to start surging with ideas about how it could be better, which helps me learn to be a better game designer/modder as I test out how those ideas could be implemented or improved upon. There's a baseline level of stuff I like for d&d (how adaptable it is, how easy it is to onboard new players, the particular level of mechanical crunch) that the otherwise flawed system makes a great canvas to work with.

What you might've caught wind of is my vendetta against Wizards of the Coast and their Hasbro overseers; if I could I'd crash into their studio, plunder the IP from their vaults, and run off into the night making feral goblin noises. My ire particularly focuses on the fact that in trying to produce a market focused product that appeals to everyone they refuse to actually make anything of substance, leading to the marvel-ification of my favourite game.

5e is the system that feels the closest to the ideal game of d&d I've been chasing for two decades, and when something comes along that better fits that ideal you can bet I'll jump to that. I'm really excited about the OGL crisis spawned games (daggerheart, mcdmrpg, tales of the valiant) and I look forward to seeing what direction they take the TTRPG space. If I don't end up preferring any of them, I'll likely end up up using 5e as a roseta stone to translate good game design ideas between them.

[luveline]

Zombie!au- would love to see more grump Steve in the earlier days. And r just trying to lighten things up a bit!

thank you for requesting ♡ steve zombie!au —your attempt to cheer steve up backfires, but he's not so oblivious to your feelings as you think. fem!reader, 1k

Water drips down the length of Steve's arm. It follows a path to his elbow, shining honey-orange in the last dregs of sunlight that haunt the room. The stone wall at your back is cooling, the baking heat of the day abating with the setting sun. 

Your shirt is still damp but clean. Steve scrubbed it until the fabric turned fuzzy, the faint smell of sweat lingering despite all his efforts and dawn dish soap. He sits close enough to rest his leg atop yours, touching you without apology. It's hard to care about personal space when you spend time with someone like this, isolated. Your survival is tied to his like shared veins. 

Water sloshes over the edge of the bucket onto a towel he placed beneath it. You clear your throat, drawing his gaze. 

"Kinda weird how many towels people leave behind." 

His constant frown doesn't so much as twitch. "Why's that?" 

"We all need towels. Makes you wonder if they thought there'd be towels somewhere else… We loot all these houses and half the time there isn't a can of peaches, but there's always a couple of towels." 

"You only need one towel," Steve says. 

"Not the way we use them." 

Steve's eyebrows raise ever so slightly. You can guess what he's thinking —you're making small talk about towels. Maybe he'd rather sit in silence than listen, but if you stay silent in the wake of his bad mood any longer, you'll disintegrate. 

"I'm just saying it's weird to take soap but not the towel." 

"They probably weren't thinking about it. Not the way it happened, I mean." Steve's brows pinch together. He pulls his shirt from the soapy water filled bucket between his legs and squeezes the excess water from it. 

"Were you going to say something else?" you ask cautiously. 

Steve wrings his shirt, the muscles in his arms singing as he twists it tighter and tighter. You can't choose what to look at, his arms, the coiled definition of his upper chest, or the strange expression that plays on his fine features. Eventually he drops his sodden shirt on the towel and wipes his hands dry, not looking at you as he asks, "What did you think was gonna happen?" 

You shift your foot under his weight. He doesn't move it still, and you're glad. You need touch. You need his touch, even if he doesn't need yours. 

"I thought everybody was going to be fine." Your stomach aches remembering. "For a week, the news didn't bother me. The radio hosts were pandering and CNN were fearmongers. But then… one day I woke up and I knew it was the end." 

"When they started saying–" 

"Don't try to hide." You swallow a lump of past hurt where it swells. 

"That's why people didn't bother with towels," Steve says. "That's what I think. They knew they wouldn't make it past the week, deep down, even if they didn't know." 

You cross your arm over the other and hold your elbow. The sun sinks like a stone, dark eating the corners of the room. It feels colder now. 

It's scarier, in the dark. You worry about what you can't see. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Steve says, speaking more gently than he had been as he pulls his leg away. "I know you were trying to make me feel better. I didn't mean to kill the mood like an asshole."

"That makes a difference," you tease. 

Steve stands and grabs the bucket of dirty water, pouring it out of the open window. You can hear the loud slosh of it slapping overgrown bluegrass below. 

"I'm sorry for being a dick," he says, turned from you still, bucket braced in two rigid hands. 

"Steve, I don't care if you're in a bad mood. I just worry it's my fault." 

He tosses the bucket aside, the thin metal handle rattling as it lands. Brushing the hair from his face, Steve turns back to you and, silhouetted by the last light, gives you a tentative smile. 

"You drive me crazy sometimes, but if I'm pissed, that's my problem. Not your fault." 

You sit up, a muscle twinging between your sore shoulders. "Oh. Cool."

Steve nods to the left. "Come over here. We'll sleep where it's dry." 

You do as told, achy and worn from another day at the end of the world. You could sleep in a queen size bed every night and it'd make no difference to this kind of exhaustion, the burden of perpetual hyper vigilance like slow releasing venom. You kick the shitty single mattress you've been sleeping on for the last few days across the room and Steve spreads out a blanket for you to lay on. 

You can't sleep. Most of the time, you lay down for a few hours feigning rest while Steve sits soldier, nothing to do, nothing to darn nor sharpen nor tend to. You're in a strange limbo of having no urgent needs and no strength between you to move on yet. With a stache of protein bars you found in the desk in the den, you and Steve can stay here for a few more days. 

You sit down regardless of the sleepless tossing and turning that awaits, surprised when Steve wastes little time sitting beside you. Shirtless. He leans against the jacket you've been using as a pillow and puts his arm behind your back with the familiarity of a lover, hand on your waist. 

Your breath pulls in funny. 

"Thanks for trying," he says. 

You risk looking up at him. He looks down, a little bit of King Steve charm in the quirk of his mouth. 

"But towels?" he asks. 

"It was the first thing I could think of." 

He nods like this makes sense and pulls you into his side, rubbing yours with enough affection to floor you if you weren't already on it. "I didn't pack a towel, and neither did you. We're all the same." 

"Then how come we're here?" you ask, quiet with the embarrassment of asking such a vulnerable question. How come we lived and no one else did?

"I don't know."

You put your face in the curve of his neck hesitantly. Steve rests his cheek on top of your head.

"I'm glad we are, though," he murmurs. 

[nolita-fairytale]

don't you worry, there's still time | chef luca x fem!reader, feat. marcus brooks

summary: after losing his mother, marcus searches for joy and stillness in copenhagen. you and luca, who are more than happy to host, decide to take a big next step in your relationship. a oneshot from the world of 'burn your life down.'

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, light smut, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 5.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: wow, i missed this world! who is ready for the reveal of chef's restaurant name?! while i don't think i have the bandwidth to write another full series (nor a linear story to tell) i'm thinking of creating a second part to 'burn your life down' where we just get to drop in and see what they're up to. thoughts??

chef luca masterlist | full masterlist

After a tumultuous holiday season, it doesn’t take long for Sydney to realize that her friend is in need of a little help. A reprieve, she so kindly explained to both Marcus and Carmy when she’d proposed the idea. 

It was Sydney this time, who called Luca, knowing that she and Carmy would have to find something to do with Marcus. It wasn’t fair – that he’d lost his mom just before Thanksgiving – and they both agreed that Marcus needed to get out of dodge. Quick to act, Carmy set up a few stages in NYC for a week or so, which, while seemed to inspire Marcus, seemed to only plunge him further into a slump come Christmas. “I don’t know. I think we gotta send him on some kinda… eat, pray, love trip. The guy can only sulk on my couch for so long before I consider jumping out of the window,” Sydney says, her attempt to lighten the mood with humor still genuine. “It’s getting sad, Carm. Like… real fuckin’ sad.”

“You’re right. Uh… what about Copenhagen?” Carmy pitches with a shrug, because he knows what all consuming grief feels like. 

“Again?” she asks, uncertain of whether it’s the best choice that they could make. 

“Yeah,” Carmy shrugs in response. “Think he got a lot of it last time. Could be good for him to go back to somewhere familiar… work with Luca again. You don’t think it’s a-?”

“No I do! I just-,” Sydney hesitates, though she knows her business partner makes a good point. “Familiarity will be good for him. To be around people he can trust.”

“You want me to uh-,” Carmy begins to offer, figuring he’ll make the call. 

“Probably best if I explain the situation. Just ‘cause, you know, I know more of what’s going on… just send me his info and I’ll call later,” Sydney interjects. 

Carmy agrees with a curt nod before adding in:

“Uh… okay yeah. Yeah.”

*

You get plenty of time to prepare for Marcus’ visit, performing all kinds of fancy footwork to arrange a proper visit – a week’s worth of time spent staging and living in Copenhagen. When Luca finds out that the prolific houseboat, a chef retreat of sorts that’s always been an option for lodging, is booked for the week and a half that Marcus plans on visiting, you offer up your place without hesitation. 

The arrangement goes as follows: while Marcus stays at yours at no cost, you’ll stay with Luca for the duration of the time. 

This is how you find yourself at the massive Ikea on Dybbølsbro on a Saturday morning with Luca, in search of a set of fresh bed linens intended for guests. 

“I really should host more. And Astrid said she and Lina were planning a trip out here so… why not kill two birds with one stone?” you’d reasoned to your boyfriend, making a strong case for why you and Luca should make this little shopping trip. 

“What do you think of the blue?” Luca asks you, as you run your hand over a set of the display sheets, checking for softness. 

“Don’t know if the blue is what I’m going for. I was thinking of something warmer. Maybe a yellow or… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been into that trendy rust color as of late,” you reply with a shrug, moving onto the warmer colors. 

Luca chuckles and with a small shake of his head, he clarifies his previous questions with:

“No, I meant for me.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him curiously, his comment pulling all of your focus as you search his face for answers. “You just got new bedding.” 

And expensive ones too. 

But as your eyes follow his gaze, you realize that he’s not talking about sheets, focused on the XL Twin-sized duvets just above where the sheets messily fall along the shelf. 

“I was thinking…” Luca trails off, checking in with you before he continues, with “... maybe it’s time I get two duvets… you know… for us.” He takes a beat, and a step towards you, and you know you’ll never stand a chance against his boyish charm as one side of his mouth turns up into a smile. 

You’re no stranger to the Scandinavian duvet method – two twin duvets for one king sized bed – but it sounds like Luca’s suggestion is about way more than buying an extra duvet on this trip. 

“I want you to feel at home… at my place."

“I do,” you reply, almost instantly, a warmth spreading through your belly as you take a step towards him. 

“But I mean really… feel like it’s your home. Because it is. It could be. You know… if you want it to be,” Luca continues, this time with more insistence, a look of hopefulness in his deep blue eyes. 

“Are you… are you asking me to move in with you?” you manage to get out, your heart skipping a beat. 

“Why not? We could use this week to try it out,” he suggests so casually that you practically have to do a double take. “See how it goes while Marcus stays at your place?”

“Yeah I-... that sounds like a good plan, yeah,” you stammer out, the grin on your face undeniable as you nod enthusiastically in the middle of a goddamn furniture store. 

“Besides,” Luca says, clearing his throat as his tone changes to one that’s much more playful. “You’re an absolute blanket hog and a repeat offender at that.” Luca winks your way as you roll your eyes with a laugh in response. “This could prevent some of our silly little quarrels, don’t you think, love?” 

“Uh huh,” you sound, your face skeptical as you look his way again. “Preventative measures. Sure, babe.”

Luca chuckles before leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, right then and there, in the Ikea bed linen section, the place you’ll now forever think of as the place your boyfriend asked you to move in with him.

Connection

When Marcus arrives in Copenhagen, you’ve arranged your home with the most comfort in mind, having already packed a week’s worth of things and left for Luca’s. You can only imagine what he must be going through, deciding that something like that – losing your mother – though inevitable, is your goddamn worst nightmare. 

“Marcus, 

Enjoy your stay and please reach out if you need anything. I can’t wait to meet you!”

…is the note that you leave him, along with a few morning pastries you picked up from your favorite baggeri across the street, and your number scribbled down at the bottom of the notepad. 

As Marcus arrives, his eyes drawn immediately to your note and gift, Marcus smiles to himself, noticing that you left a very nice looking bottle of wine on the counter as well. He’s moved by your generosity, considering you’ve never met, and the fact that you’re willing to take so much care, extend this much kindness to a stranger, causes a wave of softness to wash over him. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can find softness again – the last few months riddled with pain, grief, and numbness to get through the days. 

While he came here to work, encouraged by his friends that a change of scenery may do his broken heart some good, it’s the first time Marcus has had a chance to be still. His feelings of grief sit heavier here and it catches him off guard, uncertain that he’s quite ready to sit with them yet. He pushes aside the thought, focusing on exploring your home and unpacking his bags. Marcus knows how to stay busy – he’s become an expert at it by now – reminding himself that he’s got work at 5 am sharp tomorrow.

*

“A little too much, chef. Take it down by about 15 grams,” Luca directs, his voice even and sure as he inspects the balls of dough that Marcus currently shapes. 

“Yes, chef,” Marcus nods in understanding, plopping the ball of dough back on the scale to adjust the measurement. 

The two of them work like this for the rest of the morning, Luca treading carefully while keeping things professional, while Marcus buries himself in the work – something that feels good, safe, right. 

He’s missed this. While Marcus has one chef he works with directly at the restaurant, he’s the expert – the head patissier. He misses being surrounded by excellence, getting to be a student of someone who is just as driven, if not more, and inspired. It’s good, quiet, calm, yet there’s a focus and intensity in Luca’s kitchen that feels like a breath of fresh air. 

His stage trip to New York has been more of a mess than beneficial. Maybe it had been the chaos of the city, or the chaos of the chefs he was working with. Maybe it was the fact that Marcus, though hungry for a distraction, hadn’t quite been ready to walk directly into the line of fire yet.

As Marcus’ practiced hands move with the dough, there’s a newfound confidence in the way that he works that's not lost on Luca. Luca watches his friend carefully, pride swelling in his chest as his mentee makes the adjustment with ease and diligence.

“Can I join you?” Luca asks, gesturing towards Marcus' workstation. 

“‘Course, chef,” Marcus replies, his response short yet reverent. 

As Luca joins him, finding a space to the right of Marcus, he busies his hands with rolling each perfectly measured ball of dough into mini boules, ready to proof. The two of them work quietly, side by side, the air between them heavy with words unsaid. He can feel it – the weight that lays so heavily on Marcus' heart – but Luca doesn’t want to bring it up, uninterested in forcing the conversation. Especially about something so painful, something he knows that Marcus has barely begun working through. 

“Thanks, again. For uh… you know… letting me come work,” Marcus begins, momentarily checking in with Luca to gauge a reaction. 

“‘Course,” Luca replies, his answer instantaneous. “You’re welcome here any time, mate.” 

“Yeah?” Marcus asks, stealing a glance in Luca’s direction.

“Yeah,” Luca responds with a certain nod. 

“And uh… shit. I can’t thank your girlfriend enough for letting me crash at her place,” Marcus adds, as he works through his discomfort and overwhelm from the wave of feelings that begin to bubble up in his chest.

“You can thank her yourself on Saturday,” Luca brings up, excited over the fact that Marcus will not only be meeting his girlfriend, but staging at her restaurant too. “She’s really looking forward to meeting you.” 

Marcus nods slowly, his hands the only steady thing about him as he continues to focus on his work. 

“I just mean-, well, she didn’t have to-. ‘S not like either of you owed it to me or anything and I-. You guys just really came through…” Marcus trails off, wanting to make his gratitude clear. It means more to him that he can articulate so instead he settles for, “So thank you. Again.”

Luca shrugs with an aplomb about him as he returns with, “We got you, mate.” He pauses before continuing, fully aware that Marcus isn’t quite comfortable with the feelings that have presented themself in this moment. “And the way I see it, I wouldn’t have met her if it weren’t for you – for our conversation the last time you were here – so we really do owe you for it.”

This time Luca makes an effort to check in with Marcus, gauging his emotional capacity as he concludes with:

“But that’s not what any of this is about: debts, who owes who what. We were both more than happy to host you. That’s what mates are for.”

It’s not till the end of the next shift that it hits him, and Marcus finds himself sitting outside of the restaurant on a bench across the street. He’s not sure whether it’s the jet lag or the exhaustion of the 5 am start time in another time zone, but it hits him all at once, like a ton of bricks. Suddenly consumed with the feelings that he’s been trying his best to avoid, all he can do is pause, completely caught off guard by the strength of them. 

Quietly, Luca joins him, having spotted him on his way home, rerouting himself in Marcus’ direction instead. 

All he can think of are the words you’ve asked him, and he you, time and time again – the ones that cut right to the core of you each and every time – that show you how much he cares. 

“How’s your heart?” Luca asks Marcus, after a few minutes of sitting on the bench together in silence. 

And how is his heart? 

He’s not sure how to answer, considering it’s been a while since he’s really had a chance to check in, the crippling reality of this great loss is too much to bear alone. 

His heart is broken, shattered into an infinite amount of pieces. 

He, and his heart will never be the same again and he doesn’t know where or how he’ll ever put it back together. 

His heart is… lost, in desperate need of finding a soft place to land. 

Marcus takes a while to answer, racking his brain for any semblance of a cohesive answer. 

He waits. And then he waits. 

Until finally, he can answer. 

“I uh… don’t know. But I’m hoping this trip will help me figure that out.”

Creativity 

“do you remember the 21st night of september? love was changin' the minds of pretenders while chasin' the clouds away.” (earth, wind, and fire.)

Everything about the way you run your kitchen feels different than what he’s used to. 

It’s sure as hell different from his last stage trip to New York, Marcus thinks to himself.

With Carmy and Syd, working with them, there’s a buzz of chaos that runs underneath even the most organized and efficient service. It’s something integral to what they have, gives an edge to The Bear that seems to make it hum in all the right ways. Even with Luca, who comes from fine dining and Michelin-starred restaurants, there’s a quiet and determined focus – an intensity to his work – even without the undercurrent of chaos. 

But this. But you. 

Your kitchen somehow teeters the line of organized chaos and reckless play so well that Marcus understands why this works – why it’s efficient. 

Still, he watches as you and your staff dance – no, literally dance – around each other to the highly recognizable Earth, Wind, and Fire tune. Mathilde sings along while chopping chives for the brothy mushroom grain bowl, while, mid-phrase, manages to yell out a short command to a line cook in Danish. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus catches Jesper working the dining room, while you finish plating two more dishes, ready to be walked out. 

It’s as if you find focus in the center of all the noise, somewhere between the electric energy between you, Mathilde, and your staff, and the feel-good vibes and homeyness of the restaurant that you’ve created. 

You had been more than welcoming when Marcus had walked through the doors of your restaurant, Kokuore, mere hours ago. You’d given him the tour, shown him which station he’d be working this evening, then warmly introduced him to your entire team before family meal started. Marcus can’t stop moving, too afraid to be still in fear of falling apart in the presence of how comforting you’ve been. 

And this? Your kitchen. It’s all joy, connection, and artistry. 

It’s not hard for him to see why Luca fell in love with you. 

“Marcus, feel free to take a break,” he hears you say, as you nod towards the dining room through the open kitchen. 

As Marcus follows your gesture, he notices that Luca’s arrived, remembering something about a standing Saturday date. 

“You sure, chef?” Marcus asks, looking to you for approval. 

“Positive,” you nod, reassuringly.

Marcus nods in return to confirm, before taking his apron off and making his way over to the dining room where Luca is exchanging a few words with Jesper. 

“Wassup, chef,” he greets his mentor. 

“You know, you can call me Luca,” Luca reminds him with a crooked smile. “At least when we’re off the clock.”

Marcus chuckles, “Uh… yeah alright. That’s gonna take some getting used to.” 

Luca chuckles in return, before Jesper shows them to his table, mentioning something about Americans being so afraid of fluidity. 

“She’s brilliant isn’t she?” Luca asks, in reference to you as his eyes catch yours from across the room. 

“Nah for real. Like… mad scientist vibes,” Marcus concurs with a smile. “She can throw down for sure.” He pauses as they sit down at Luca’s table. “So you come every Saturday night, huh?”

“When I can, yeah, which is… most Saturdays,” Luca replies honestly, before beginning to list why he’s kept up this routine. “But it’s nice. Keeps me inspired. I get to see my girl, walk her home at night which makes me feel better.” Luca leans back in his chair this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I never mind helping close down at the end of the night.”

Marcus hums in response before one of the waitstaff comes to their table, with a glass of wine in hand, on the house. They chat for a little longer before Marcus returns to the kitchen, his excitement for what you’re doing here filling him to the brim. 

As dinner service comes to an end, Marcus can’t help but notice the chemistry and how unique it is as you all work together in perfect harmony. There’s a warmth to it, something different, and he begins to understand why the name of the restaurant comes from the word, heart. 

Luca is quick to get up from his table, quickly finishing his glass of wine as he offers to help close down. The music volume goes from underscoring the buzz of a busy night of service, to the main attraction, as a motown throwbacks playlist begins to blare from the speakers. You all work quickly and efficiently, eager to close down, get home, and begin your weekends, but it’s when an old Otis Redding track that Luca decides to put a pause on the progress. 

“Dance with me, my love,” he says, offering his hand out to you as a huge gesture that earns a few looks and giggles from some of your staff. 

“Luca,” you begin to protest, looking around. 

“You can take three minutes,” he offers, exchanging a look with you this time. 

You nod, taking his hand as you agree with, “Okay.”

And as Luca wraps you up in his arms, engaging you in a slow dance to Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong my Love is,” you chuckle, relaxing into him.

“Oh, get a room, you two!” Jesper calls out after you, teasingly. 

“She pretends – always puts up a fight – as if they don’t do this every single week,” Mathilde adds, as an explanation to Marcus. 

“Every week?” Marcus asks, a little surprised by both you and Luca’s willingness to pause and revel in a moment with each other, instead of just pushing through. 

“Yeah. Romantics, they are,” Jesper chimes in. 

Marcus smiles to himself. It’s a reminder of slowness – something he hasn’t let himself experience in a long time – and for just a moment, he lets himself settle into the feeling. 

*

You don’t even mind that you woke up an hour before your alarm the moment you feel Luca’s arms wrapped around you, and his lips against your soft skin. The low rumble of his voice resonates across your shoulders, sending chills down your spine as you arch into his hands, his arms wrapped around you. 

“I know we’re only a few days in… of our little trial,” Luca begins, the bass of his voice reverberating through your shoulder blade.

“Our living together trial?” you clarify with your ask, letting out a gasp as he nibbles on your shoulder gently. 

“Yeah. Just wonderin’ where your mind’s at,” Luca murmurs, his eager hands beginning to explore underneath the oversized shirt you put on before bed last night. 

“Well… I really like this,” you reply, the sound that comes out of your mouth somewhere between a giggle and a moan. 

“Hmmmm?” Luca sounds, innocently. 

“This… Waking up to you thing.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm.”

Luca’s name escapes your lips as his fingers gently begin to play with your nipples, his erection hard against your back as you begin to grind your hips back against. 

“And the access to round the clock sex is really a bonus,” you sigh, blissfully. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks you again, a large tatted hand slipping between your legs. 

“Yeah… I’d even be… interested in leaning into that part… right now,” you hiss in reply to his touch. “Considering you’re distracting me with sex.”

“Hmmmmm. ‘S not just it, love. Have I told you how grateful I am for what you’ve done for Marcus?” Luca asks, his mouth back on your neck. He presses your body against him, your back to his chest as he rocks his hips against yours. 

“Luca!” you protest, unable to focus on the conversation. 

“It’s your kindness. Your heart… I’m in awe of it,” he continues to praise you as the two of you begin to set a rhythm between your bodies. 

It’s all heat, and soft sighs of pleasure, and foreplay.

“Well, I know a little something about what he’s going through,” you answer breathlessly. You begin to impatiently push the hem of your shirt higher so that you can give Luca more access to your body. 

“That’s why I love you,” Luca murmurs into your skin, his hands all over you, his focus unbroken and your mind beginning to go blank. His hands are tearing your shirt over your head as he continues to praise you. “Your heart, the way you share it.”

“You helped me get there, baby,” you gasp, turning your head so that you can kiss your boyfriend. 

Instead of answering, Luca nods knowingly, before crashing his lips into yours. His mouth on yours feels like heaven, and you can’t believe that you ever fought your feelings for him. 

“Ah fuck it. Let’s do it. Let’s move in together,” you surrender to him, lost in the moment. 

“Yeah?” Luca pauses, pulling away, as if almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“Yeah. I mean it, baby,” you nod, catching his gaze, certain in the way you answer. “I wanna wake up to you every morning.”

“Me too, my love,” Luca grins, before pressing his lips to yours again. “Now will you please let me fuck you, darling?”

“Fuck yes.”

Luca spends the next hour showing you just how grateful he is for you, while you in return, spend the next hour showing him just how sure you are about this decision. 

And you are sure. If mornings like this are a constant for the rest of your life, you think you’ll die a happy woman. 

You’ve found a home in him, and he, you. He’s the person you want to come home to at the end of the day. He’s the man that puts a smile on your face every single time he gets on his soapbox about how Beyonce is the performer of your lifetimes, and he is unequivocally the best, most unexpected thing in your life. 

Luca Davies, in almost a year of knowing him, and eight months of getting to love him, has somehow become your favorite person. 

By the time you and Luca are both showered and decent-for-company, you’ve begun your mise en place for brunch, completely content with the fact that you’re running a little behind schedule (and in all fairness, the sex was worth it – it’s always worth it). The smell of bacon sizzling away on your carbon steel fry pan fills the entire apartment, and you’re glad that Luca opened a window earlier. It’s not exactly window weather yet, but the air ventilation is a must when it comes to smoked meats.

While you play catch up with your brunch plan, Luca’s busy welcoming Marcus in, pouring him a cup of coffee using the extensive ten-step pour over he’s been fixated on ever since he purchased it, while they chat here and there about what else he’s explored in Denmark. 

“Been too busy working, to be honest but… I don’t know. I might wander around today… see what kind of stuff I can get into,” Marcus answers frankly with a shrug. 

“Ah, mate. We just had a walk at the Frederiksberg Gardens. Definitely something I’d recommend checking out,” Luca suggests, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he mentions it. 

Luca continues moving through his list of recommendations, Marcus chiming in with places and things he did the last time he was here, excited to spend a few days exploring the city instead of just working. 

“Wanderin’ around. I dunno. There’s something about it. ‘S good for the spirit, you know?” Luca concludes. 

“Yeah,” Marcus nods in agreement, before turning his attention over to the French toast you’re working on. “Okay, I see you. What is that? Mascarpone?”

“Yeah, good eye. It’s just something new I’m working on: a mascarpone stuffed french toast. We’re actually talking about extending our hours… maybe doing weekend brunch,” you answer thoroughly, as you dip the stuffed pieces of bread into their egg batter, pre-cook. 

“For real? That’s sick,” Marcus compliments, watching you carefully. “I mean… shit. You could have a whole brunch spot.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your cutting board. 

“A Brunch spot,” Marcus repeats, simply, the excitement in his eyes at the new idea, evident. “Yeah, you know. Luca could do the morning pastries. You work your magic on the rest of the menu.”

“That’s a novel idea! What do you think, my love?” Luca asks, intrigue in his voice as he searches your face for a reaction. 

“I-,” you begin, looking from Luca to Marcus, then back to Luca again. “I… never thought about it like that.” You take a beat, eyeing Luca carefully. “We’ve never talked about going into business together.”

Marcus shrugs, before picking up his coffee mug, “Yo, it’s just a thought. I think you two would be unstoppable together.”

“Unstoppable, eh?” Luca asks, his eyes locked with yours. 

You only hum in response, raising a quirked eyebrow in Luca’s direction before adding:

“It’s certainly one hell of an idea, Marcus.”

Kokuore

Monday afternoon, you find yourself at your restaurant with Marcus Brooks, on a day off. 

“I might need a little extra help with something tomorrow. We’re closed tomorrow, but I want to get ahead on this special I’m working on. Could use the help of a pastry chef. What do you say?” you’d proposed to him, over one more espresso before he left. 

To Luca’s dismay, (“ you silly Americans just can’t enjoy a day of doing nothing,” he’d teased the two of you) Marcus had given you an unwavering yes, reassuring you that he was down to learn everything he possibly could from you, especially while he was here. 

And it’s true. You do need the help. But should he want someone to talk to – someone who gets it, even just a little bit – you want to offer him the space and the opportunity to do so.

“As a patissier, do you get tasked with pasta? At The Bear?” you ask Marcus, as you pleat a dumpling in hand with a speed that only comes with practice. 

“Nah,” Marcus sounds, his focus on the dumpling he’s pleating too. His concentration on getting the pleats right is reverent and unbroken, even as he answers your question. “Our head chef, Carmy, he uh… he comes from an Italian American family so when we’ve done a stuffed pasta… he usually takes the lead on that.” 

You nod in understanding, placing the dumpling you’ve just finished down on the full-sized sheet pan. The two of you sit across from each other, having pushed a few dining tables together as a makeshift workstation. 

“Think Luca’ll take over this kinda stuff when you guys open a restaurant together?” Marcus asks, lightheartedly pushing his agenda from yesterday. 

You laugh in response, your hands working quickly on yet another dumpling. 

“For someone with no skin in the game, you’re really insistent on this idea,” you tease him in return. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it,” Marcus pushes right back, his tone still light. 

“I…” you sigh, trailing off as you pause your work for a moment. “You know, we just said we’d move in together. That and a restaurant? Feels fast.” 

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Like… a few hours before you came over for brunch,” you elaborate, earning a whistle from Marcus. The two of you exchange a look, and a laugh, as you pick up another dumpling wrapper that you and Marcus rolled out together earlier. 

“It’s a good idea though,” you add, stealing a glance his way so that he knows that you’re serious. 

“Well, when you two inevitably do open a restaurant… I want ten percent,” Marcus jokes, earning another laugh from you. 

“Deal,” you agree with him. 

You and Marcus work like this, exchanging a few words, the conversation light, underscored by a softer acoustic soundtrack from one of your Spotify radio stations.

“So how’d you learn to cook like this?” Marcus asks you curiously. 

“Uh…” you hesitate, treading carefully as you realize this conversation could open a can of worms. 

“I don’t know how much Luca’s told you about me… but I was married… before him,” you begin, cautiously. “And… well, I learned a lot of this… a lot of traditional Japanese cooking from my mother-in-law.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These are her dumplings actually – her recipe. She passed away last Fall and… well, it was important to me to celebrate her – to celebrate her life – by creating a few dishes for her,” you continue, and it’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room. “We’re bringing this one back as a special this month but um… yeah. I’m… still very much grieving and… it helps me remember her. Cooking her food helps me feel close to her, you know?”

“Yeah,” Marcus sighs, his heart heavy as he exhales. 

He waits a beat. 

And then another, having paused his work as he watches you pleat, head down, with expert hands. 

The silence between you and Marcus is full, heavy, connected by shared experience. You wait for Marcus to say something, and when he doesn’t, you decide to continue. 

“This restaurant… has so much of my heart in it: it’s got my love for Italian food from growing up in my best friend’s family’s restaurant, and it’s got my love for her – for Aiko – and everything she taught me,” you begin to explain. “And lately… it’s got a fresh perspective… inspired by the love I have with Luca, I think. Well, I know. Inspired by him… how this place brought us together.”

“The name itself is… totally made up, but means a lot to me. The Japanese word for heart is, kokoro, and the Italian word for heart is, cuore. Somehow an homage to my past… and was… Prophetic in so many ways too.” 

As Marcus listens, Luca’s previous question lingers in his head:

How’s your heart?

At the time he didn’t know how to answer, and after five days in Copenhagen – after five days of doing what he loves in a place that he loves – his heart is somehow so full, yet so broken all at once. He’s filled with deep sorrow and with the spark of creativity all at the same time, and he’s just not sure how to hold all of this feeling inside of him. 

Marcus waits a beat, opens his mouth, then lets the words fall out. 

“It’s evident. In your food,” is all he manages to say. “It’s got soul. It’s got heart. I-, it’s inspiring. That’s for sure.” 

“I made a dish. For Michael,” Marcus adds, his eyes on the dumpling he works on, but the guard on his heart beginning to fall away. “He was uh… well, he was the old owner of the restaurant, called The Beef back then. Carmy took over after he died. Felt right to honor him and his life, you know? When we reopened as The Bear.”

“Food is… it’s our art, you know?” you agree. “Sometimes it’s the only way I know how to express myself and… sometimes it’s just the thing that makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

A beat. 

“Maybe one day I can make one for my mom,” Marcus says, his voice stuck in his throat as he admits, “I don’t know if I’m ready yet. But I think… I think I’d like to eventually.” 

“Of course,” you reassure him gently. “You don’t have to be ready now. You don’t have to be ready ever. But when you are, your art will always be there.” 

“Thanks,” Marcus nods solemnly. 

You get up this time, realizing the sheet pan is full, and ready to be placed on the baker’s rack. As you return to the table with a new empty sheet pan, lined with parchment paper, Marcus finally asks you, his eyes soft, the heartbreak in them present. 

“How’d you get through? You know. Losing her? Your mother-in-law?” 

You return to your chair with a heavy sigh. 

“I’ll let you know when I do,” you answer, letting up a soft chuckle. “It helps to have good people and… from what Luca’s told me, you do. But… I had to let ‘em in, let ‘em help me. Let ‘em love me. And in all honesty, most days I’m still just… taking it day by day.” 

“Yeah, I-. I do. I got some really good people. Back home,” Marcus drags out slowly. 

“Then that’s all that matters. Your people and your heart. The rest… you just-,” you start. 

“Take day by day?” Marcus interjects, pausing to catch your eyes. 

You and Marcus exchange a knowing look, the recognition of each others’ pain is met with empathy. 

“Yeah. I think that's all we can do.”

By the end of your work session with Marcus, you’re ready to head home so that you can spend the rest of the day with Luca. 

“What’re you gonna do with the rest of your day?” you ask Marcus, curiously. 

With a sigh, and then a shrug, and a heart that feels just a little lighter, he answers with:

“Think I might wander around a bit. Someone once told me it’s good for the spirit.”