#we all poured bits of ourselves into everything we created and we shared that with everyone

[certified-anakinfucker]

ok this is unprompted but if you pride yourself on being the reason people leave a space for something they genuinely love and have done no objective wrong - youre a piece of shit btw. like full send youre horrible.

[crazybojoe]

"Tired" (Part 2 connecting to the Geras and Liu Kang au)

(I'mma set this up for y'all, all of these, will be in the perspective of Geras. In case y'all didn't know while I was writing)

Just in time to start such a sociable call as this, Liu Kang and shown me how lively it was to sit inside the teahouse that Madam Bo had upheld. Intricate furnitures of hospitality were accompanied with the comfortable cushions that would made a mortal wish to stay here a little longer. "It is a prospering business to what Madam Bo upholds, ever since the time we all battled Shang Tsung to restore time itself has greatly brought forth peace to both realms." Liu Kang speaks as he poured a cup of tea. "I can see it myself, but what is it that made you willingly show me around this creation we mode secured?" I ask politely, not wanting to disrespect his statement. "I wanted to show that life, itself, can make itself worth living if you look through the verdant economy that had build over eons. Not everything is all of staying beside the hourglass and to work tirelessly."

It took me a little bit of time to think about it as we both sat in silence, he was looking over to the beauty he had created. Each and one of the design he had constructed had been balanced. Only then when Madam Bo called was when she had brought a small boiling stove with assorted and steamed dimsum, meat and vegetables mixed together in the flavorful broth. "Here's your hotpot, the meat came from cow and pig. With vegetables and your seasonings to your liking." Madam Bo smiled as she looked at both of us, with Liu Kang smiling as he bowed in gratitude. "An excellent dish as always Madam Bo. We will enjoy ourselves for tonight." He was rather pleased of the sight of the food as to was I. Colorful pieces of the mixed greens and red meat showed me a delicious sight, the bubblies merely at a medium boil to only pop and make the food glisten with tasty ingredients as I gently pick up the chopsticks and the small bowl. "You can give it a try, I'd like to see how you like the dish for yourself." Liu Kang looked at me as I nod, taking the small ladle bit by bit as I had cupped myself a bowl of hot pot noodles, crabsticks, lettuce and pork. Slowly had I gave the product a taste, taking in the warm hotpot food as I seem to have grown quite fond to its addicting flavor. "This is... Amazing." I feel myself smile as I continue to eat, enjoying the dish as Liu Kang joined me after a moment of eating together.

"How had I not stop by for... This?" I look at the bowl I ha din my hand as I felt warm to eat a dish such as this for a lifetime. "Duty, can be a longing call, but nothing beats the hotpot when we're both restless to the things we must keep for this timeline to stay safe." Liu Kang yawned as he adjusted his headband. "Now I had come to realization of how tiring it had been... We both needed it anyway." I smile as we finish the hot pot in a share. Had I never had been ever once in a timeline, felt as if I had a father figure of my own. Guiding me to the proper way to becoming an educated pupil, it was nice.

[are-you-romanticizing-murder]

I keep thinking back to this quote from Heizer:

"My rib cage is blown out. My feet don't work. Every bone in me is torqued and twisted."

He suffered for his art. It hurt. It burned. It cost him years of his life.

It made me think of the parasitic nature of art.

How we pour everything into our art. In a sense, it feeds off us. It grows and flourishes the more of ourselves we put into it. We sweat and bleed for it. But sometimes all we get in return is emptiness.

The only way I've found to combat this overwhelming exhaustion and disappointment is to share art with others. If they can find joy in my sick mind and broken body, then it makes me feel a little bit better about the monsters I've created.

[swordheld]

hii faye, what is something you hold onto for hope when everything seems pointless 🌟

hi ana!! this is a very good question and one i wanted to sit with for a bit, and since then my answer has only grown in validity within my heart and mind, and it is (maybe) surprisingly: people.

i’m a firm believer in that we, as humans, are intrinsically kind; that we have the greatest capability to be kind, to change learned or influenced behaviors for the sake of the needs of the oppressed. and as we can clearly see by opening nearly any kind of social media at the moment  –  the world is not doing a very good job at proving that, right now; at least for the people in positions who can bring about the most impactful change for the largest amounts of people.

so then i go smaller, narrower in scope, to the people i interact with everyday; whether that is the people i talk with or see along my day, or the things people have made that i enjoy, or anything else that i have the opportunity to interact with that someone has created with their own wonderful attention and intention. through these creations we find their joy, their heart, the way they pour themselves into the things they love like there is no separation.

this is what fuels that hope, for me. that we find something inside of us that sparks us alive, and we go: oh, i have to do something with this. i have to figure out how to share it, how to give pieces of it away, to have it inspire others, too. and isn’t that the kindest thing?

here is something i love  /  is there a chance you might, too?

you know when you finish something, or even are in the middle of a piece of something (whether that be media, recipe, etc., anything with ties with creation of any sort), and there is a moment where it just suddenly strikes something within you? where it feels like puzzle pieces destined to slot perfectly into place together, like everything has brought you to right here, and you are seen by it, remade by it, if even by a little. where within it there’s a kind of portable, palpable optimism, full of wonderstruck idealism, where we are alive to experience overwhelming joy and it makes us dizzy with it; like we can finally feel the earth beneath us spinning and soaring in our solar system’s dance.

where it makes the other moments  /  even just a little easier to bear.

it's that shift, that the world is a thing worth living in. how to be alive is to be able to experience, to take it all in; every breath and every day and every moment. how amazing it is, really and truly, to feel the wind on slow and stormy days alike, to make someone laugh, to be able to have a idea and then go on to create it. to be able to run your hands over something soft and kindly crafted, to feel the beat of music physically, in your chest, rumbling its way through your bones. to watch the sun set and rise, to hold a firefly delicate and star-like in your cupped hands. we are made of all of these melodies of memories, of things we have lived through and dreamed and survived. 

it has to be worth something. these small moments that feel like a star is bursting within you? where you are a near-bursting thing? that has to mean something bigger than anything we can put words to. i would venture to say that it is a kind of purpose  –  to create and to enjoy and to love; to live in a world where we can do that, share pieces of ourselves like lighthouses casting light out into the fierce dark. where we are so lucky, to be able to do so.

yet also, i like to keep in mind that there is always tomorrow. how there is always something new just beyond reach. look at it like this: for how much i prefer the soft chill of winter and fall, there’s something so fond about missing the warmer summer seasons. walking to the farmer’s market and slicing up strawberries and lazing in the warmth of the brightest sun. the echo of children’s laughter, wind through the trees, it’s like light bounces off of everything a little brighter, leaving everything with this orange-tinted warmth.

there is so much to hold on to, and the wonderful thing is that you have never experienced any of it alone. there is always something waiting for you. there is always something about to call you by name.

[nox-artemis]

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

[shealwaysreads]

Just dropping in to say I hope you realise how fucking talented you are. Your writing is just beautiful and I am envious and bitter and completely addicted. It should be illegal for you to be such a wonderful person and that fantastic an author ♥️

Hey anon!

First off, I want to thank you for your beautiful compliments on my writing—I put a lot of love into it so it always means the world when someone lets me know they enjoyed it. I pour a lot of precious time and energy into my writing, and everything I’ve created and shared has come from the heart—I write it from myself and for myself primarily, but I share it purposefully and the joy I get from hearing that other people have connected with it really is immense ❤️

But I also want to talk a little bit about the idea that my writing makes you feel envious/bitter—which might have been a completely off-hand comment without any deep intention, but it really caught my attention and gutted me a little bit, because I can empathise with that. I go through phases of feeling like I’ll never be skilled or talented enough to write the way I want to, and it’s become part of my creative process to encounter and then deal with that feeling when I’m in the midst of a project. There was also this post  (particularly @pineau-noir’s brilliant addition) circulating on my dash which has provoked a lot of discussion amongst me and my friends, and I wanted to bring a little of that out here, so forgive me for highjacking your ask.

Envy/jealousy is something that all of us feel, at one point or another. Whether it's looking at how many followers/subscribers/kudos a creator has, or the perfect turn of phrase or clever plot device that just makes you wish you’d thought of it! And jealousy is uncomfortable, we all know it’s not a nice emotion, and I think part of what makes it difficult to process is that it can feel like something that we need to keep secret. It isn’t a pretty emotion to feel, even less to admit to publicly, so it’s an emotion that can fester if left unchecked. It’s when this happens that resentment/bitterness can set in, and once those feelings get their feet under the table it’s hard to get rid of them and find your equilibrium again.

But if we accept that we probably all feel envy at some stage, then perhaps we can be a little kinder to ourselves and each other about it instead of letting it become something that settles into a stone around our feet that stops us from taking joy in our own work and in the work that other people share with us. We can accept that an emotional response (feeling like we’re not as good, or as experienced, or just plain less-than) is a natural thing, but we can also acknowledge that our first initial emotional response isn’t the be-all and end-all—we can choose how we express and respond to that instinctual kick of emotion.

We’re in the position to cultivate a sense of self-awareness and catch ourselves when we feel that envy creeping in, and we can challenge it, and manage it. Sometimes that’s going to mean taking a break, sometimes it’s venting to a friend, sometimes it’s actually facing ourselves down and recognising that the negative self-talk is coming from inside and we need to rewrite that narrative for ourselves.

For me it’s about looking at what I love about someone else’s creativity and appreciating it—it’s a gift they’ve given, and focusing on the pleasure I can take in their talent and skills, and remembering that they probably feel like I do when they see their own favourite creator means that I can tune in and remember that we’re all in the same boat, and there’s a lot of comfort in that.

Making fandom friends is something that makes a huge difference—when you can look at someone you love, creating work that you love, it becomes easy and habitual to take joy in their victories, and then you can look at every other fandom creator in that way. Because fandom is a community; to survive it needs all of us to participate. It needs every writer, and every artist. It needs every podficcer, every reccer and beta-reader, every gif-maker, every graphic maker, and every editor. It needs every fanvid creator, and every reader, commenter, and enthusiastic tumblr-tagger. It’s a community that lives and breathes on creation, interpretation, re-interpretation, celebration, sharing, the interlinked inspiration of headcanons and tropes and subversion and elevation of every iteration on character and plot.

Fandom exists because we’re all here. Including you.

I’ve got some links here, of posts that helped me and inspired me, including the tag I use on my blog to collect all the quotes and advice that keep me on track with remembering that my writing is mine, and it’s okay, and it’s worth creating.

Writing advice

@ruinsplume’s beautiful advice here

This art

Advice on competition

[heresathreebee]

Old Stomping Ground

[Ava Starr X Female Reader]

Summary: One of the good things to come out of constant alien invasions are the abandoned ruins of New York, and you’re fixing to show Ava your favorite place. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 13+ | can be reader gender and race neutral reader but is written with woc readers in mind, no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp, Ava and reader on an adventure in post Avenger's New York, homelessness, alien trees and the power of community.

AN: no-snap au, post-Ant Man and the Wasp. No beta, we die like men. Just you and Ava having a short adventure.

You took three days off of work for this one. Packed two backpacks with food, water, clothes, and other supplies. Bedrolls and bug spray and hiking poles. Ava laughed at your enthusiasm but she seemed to vibrate with excitement right along with you. 

"Can you at least tell me where we're going," she pleaded. 

You ran through the end of the checklist for the third time, trying to be extra careful now that you wouldn't be hoofing it solo. You dodged the question expertly with a "it's not far and it's not dangerous so hush! Learn to enjoy the mystery, babe." 

Ava rolled her eyes playfully but stopped asking and let you finish. After that you ate a hearty breakfast and began your journey north by northwest. In the taxi, your girlfriend's eyes darted from building to building as you turned on every street and you mentally gave up on scolding her. She was too pragmatic to allow for that level of trust yet. 

You were surprised that it took her until you passed the ruins of the daycare you once attended that she whipped her head around to whisper, "is this… Leviathan alley?" 

You shush her but can't keep the excited grin from your face. "It's a bit more than just an alley." 

Once SHIELD was finished stripping for parts and gutting the cybernetically enhanced alien creature left behind in the Battle of New York, the rest was abandoned. The city's been planning to clean up and rebuild but there are scores in the earth where the leviathan crashed and crumbling, precarious buildings that need to be brought down first in the safest way possible. While the city’s been debating how to deal with the destruction, the poor and destitute had moved in and discovered the blood of the chitauri has some very interesting properties. 

"It's like it changes the property of concrete," you explained, climbing over rubble and reaching back to pull her up, "uhg– breaks it down into some kind of hyper fertilizer. There's this copse of trees growing where we think the stomach was and I think in its natural habitat, the creature was probably an omnivore of sorts and may have swallowed thousands of seeds–" 

"That's all very fascinating dear, could you please take this?" Ava shoves a canteen into your hands and cups your hands to bring it closer to your mouth. You've climbed for what feels like miles and hey, you are pretty parched. "Think we'd better rest and eat, maybe look for a safe place to set up camp and… oh, look over there!" 

Ava's sudden whisper makes you turn. It's green in that direction, though this 'alley' is shrouded in darkness due to the dome made from the spine and ribs of the leviathan, the sprigs seem to grow just fine, becoming taller as they moved farther away from you until they began to develop woody stalks and trunks. 

"That's the forest you were talking about," Ava whispered in awe. “I wanna get a closer look.” 

You gently caught her arm. “Camp first, eat. It’ll still be here tomorrow.” 

~ 

Ava didn’t expect you to take her into an encampment. There were two dozen people in tents, an open grill going and laughter. They seemed to recognize you. It was mostly older adults, a few elderly people wrapped in thick blankets and teens walking around asking anyone needed drinks. You grabbed the blanket from your pack and wrapped Ava in it as soon as she found a seat on a slab of concrete. 

"Comfy?" 

Ava smiled up at you, taking the proffered fruit slice from you. "Very." 

She examined the strange fruit. It had a thin violet skin with a spongy white inner layer and pink juice with black seeds  dripping from it. She leabed over your shoulder get a look at the fruit as a whole, and it seemed the pink goop was loose inside the fruit similar to a coconut. 

"Are these from the trees," she asked. 

"Yeah, they're edible don't worry. No side effects we've seen," you assure. 

Ava nods but as she's licking the tangy pink juice you continue, "well except for Nadia but she's a mutant." 

Ava flicks worried green eyes at you and slowly takes the fruit from her mouth. She's already swallowed on reflex so there's no turning back now, only managing whatever weird things would come next. 

"Uh… what do you mean by that?" 

You blink at Ava. "Oh it's not, like, bad or anything. Right, Nadia?" 

A dark skinned girl in an orange beanie looked up from her phone. "What?" 

"Tauri makes you, what, gassy?" 

The man on the grill threw his head back in a laugh and Nadia kicked a rock at you. "Ha hah, you're everybody's favorite clown in the circus. It doesn't make me gassy, you jerk, it makes me smell like roses actually." 

"Oh," Ava said, "that's all?" 

You and Nadia shared a knowing look. "It's strong. Not overpowering but strong like you've got your nose buried in a whole bouquet of them." 

"And your fingers tingle and you make sparkles– " 

"Nadia I think that's just you, baby!" 

People laughed and the conversation died down. Ava let the slip of tauri fruit linger in her grasp until you gently pried it out and ate it yourself. You were side eyeing her but kept your question to yourself and eventually Ava was able to relax. She fell asleep during Nadia's uncle Rodney's story with her head on your shoulder and dreamed of violet things. Violet dresses, violet paint, violet fires, and violet sprigs. 

All you could dream of was the smell of roses so close and so thick you could touch it. 

~

The walk through the natural path as the trees got thicker finally prompted Ava to ask the question that's been plaguing her. "How do you know them? Are they family?" 

You cast a quick glance over your shoulder and slowed your pace to match hers as your fingers tapped the straps of your backpack nervously. "Sort of. They were family when I had no home to go to. Then I got a job with enough money and a stupid good deal on my apartment because I had no priors. 

"Rodney and Jules and some of the others prefer it out here with the forest. Some of them have nowhere else to go or no way to take care of themselves. Nadia's been kicked out of every home she's ever been to, but she won't go to that gifted school for mutants in Westchester county. Can't say I blame her either." 

"School for mutants, eh," Ava said as she trudged on, "interesting." 

You walked along in silence, drinking in the inviting quiet of the forest and the tiny chirps and peeps of its new inhabitants. You'd almost say it would be a shame to tear this place down knowing it's a new natural habitat, but you know New York had a hundred bigger and more pressing issues to deal with right now. As long as any capitalist moguls kept their eyes elsewhere, the new jungle should be fine. 

As the forest becomes denser, you have to pull a rechargeable flashlight out to see the ground beneath you. Black bugs crawl under and over the brush and fallen twigs, and something no bigger than a cat scuttles away out of the path of the light. Ava puts a hand on your arm and you open your mouth to assure her you'd protect her, but as you look at her you realize she's ready to protect you. Arm poised out and eyes darting around for signs of sudden movement from the brush. 

You walk in silence for what feels like an fantastic eternity but when you look at the canopy you stop yourself. Ava looks up to, gently taking a hold of your hand to keep you close and it sends tingles up your arm. She rarely reaches for you but she seems to be growing more and more confident of it. 

Light dances beyond the thicket of the leaves. Green and gold flashes as a soft breeze creates gaps beyond the chitauri rib ceiling and every time a light flashes you feel warmth on your skin like soft little kisses. 

Something wooden creaks, and that creaking quickly turns to snapping. You unconsciously squeeze Ava's fingers as you spot a black tree trunk beginning to fall towards you. Suddenly, Ava's arms are around you and she pulls you down into a duck. 

Everything happens so fast it blinds you. You can't see, can only feel as shivers of warmth and cold jitter through your entire being, drowning you into sensations you've never felt before. It makes you feel fear more than anything. Is this how you die? Cowering? 

When the sounds of falling trees stop, there is only the wind and the rush of Ava's windbreaker against yours. You test your fingers to see if they still work and dig them into her back. Nothing broken, you're still standing if gravity is correct. 

She finally lets you lift your head from her embrace and survey the scene. That tree opened a spot in the canopy for more natural light to pour in which is good because your flashlight was lost among the thick bramble bushes. 

Ava brushes your forehead. "Are you OK?" 

It must be a trick of the light but she looks like she's shimmering. Perhaps you hit your head or something but it seems like you never fell. Your standing just beside the fallen tree but you could have sworn you'd almost felt it go through you. And then…

And then there was the smell of roses. 

"I'm fine," you say at last. "Let's get back, probably shouldn't have come here by ourselves anyways…" 

Ava gives you a look, it almost looks like trepidation. You steel your resolve and press on to retrace your steps, knowing you had a lot of walking to do before you would exit the treeline. 

Ava has powers and you're ok with that. You'll just let her tell you in her own time. 

[nashvilledreams]

My Naya, my Snixxx, my Bee. I legitimately can not imagine this world without you.

7 years ago today, she and I were together in London when we found out about Cory. We were so far away, but I was so thankful that we had each other. A week ago today we were talking about running away to Hawaii. This doesn’t make sense. And I know it probably never will.

She was so independent and strong and the idea of her not being here is something I cannot comprehend. She was the single most quick-witted person I’ve ever met, with a steel-trap memory that could recall the most forgettable conversations from a decade ago verbatim. The amount of times she would memorize all of those crazy monologues on Glee the morning of and would never ever mess up during the scene… I mean, she was clearly more talented than the rest of us. She was the most talented person I’ve ever known. There is nothing she couldn’t do and I’m furious we won’t get to see more.

I’m thankful for all the ways in which she made me a better person. She taught me how to advocate for myself and to speak up for the things and people that were important to me, always. I’m thankful for the times I grew an ab muscle from laughing so hard at something she said. I’m thankful she became like family. I’m thankful that my dad happened to have met her weeks before I did and when I got Glee, he told me to “look out for a girl named Naya because she seemed nice.” Well dad, she was nice and she became one of my favorite people ever.

If you were fortunate enough to have known her, you’ll know that her most natural talent of all was being a mother. The way that she loved her boy, it was truly Naya at her most peaceful. I’m thankful that Naya got that beautiful little boy back on that boat. I’m thankful he will have a strong family around him to protect him and tell him about his incredible mom.

I just hope more than anything that her family is given the space and time to come to terms with this. For having such tiny body, Naya had such a gigantic presence, a void that will now be felt by all of us - those of us who knew her personally and the millions of you who loved her through your TVs. I love you, Bee.

My favorite duet partner. I love you. I miss you. I don’t have words right now, just lots of feelings. Rest In Peace Angel, and know that your family will never have to worry about anything.

We started out as the closest friends and then like all new things, we went through a bit of a rocky phase. However, we stuck by each other’s side and created the most beautiful friendship built out of love and understanding. The last I had the chance to see you in person, I had left oranges outside our home for you to take. I wanted to say hi through the window but my phone didn’t ring when you called (which it never does, f*cking T-Mobile), so instead you and Josey left two succulents on our doorstep as a thank you. I planted those succulents and I look at them everyday and think of you. I still listen to your EP on repeat because from the moment I heard it, it struck me and I always wished the world knew more of your voice. You sent me over 5 dozen SnapChat videos when you and Josey woke up in the morning and I kick myself that I didn’t save one of them. You always shared recipes and I admired your love for food. We vowed to spend every Easter together, even though Covid stole this last one from us. You are and always will be the strongest and most resilient human being I know, and I vowed to carry that with me as I continue to live my life. 

You constantly taught me lessons about grief, about beauty and poise, about being strong, resilient and about not giving a fuck (but still somehow respectful). Yet, the utmost important lesson I learned most of all from you was being a consistent and loving friend. You were the first to check in, the first to ask questions, the first to listen..you cherished our friendship and I never took that for granted. 

We never took photos together because we mutually hated taking pictures...our relationship meant more than proof. I have countless pictures of our babies playing, because we shared that kind of pride and joy. So I’m showing the world a photo of our little goof balls for you, because I know that meant more than anything and they remind me of you and I. I speak to you everyday because I know you’re still with me and even though I’m feeling greedy that we don’t get more time together, I cherish every moment we had and hold it close to my heart.

There are no words and yet so many things I want to say, I don't believe I'll ever be able to articulate exactly what I feel but... Naya, you were a ⚡️ force and everyone who got to be around you knew it and felt the light and joy you exuded when you walked into a room. You shined on stage and screen and radiated with love behind closed doors. 

I was lucky enough to share so many laughs, martinis and secrets with you. I can not believe I took for granted that you'd always be here. Our friendship went in waves as life happens and we grow, so I will not look back and regret but know I love you and promise to help the legacy of your talent, humor, light and loyalty live on. 

You are so loved. You deserved the world and we will make sure Josey and your family feel that everyday. I miss you already.

She was bold. She was outrageous. She was a LOT of fun.���

Naya made me laugh like no one else on that set. I always said it while we were working together and I’ve maintained it ever since. Her playful, wicked sense of humor never ceased to bring a smile to my face.⁣

She played by her own rules and was in a class of her own. She had a brashness about her that I couldn’t help but be enchanted by. I also always loved her voice, and savored every chance I got to hear her sing. I think she had more talent than we would have ever been able to see.⁣

I was constantly moved by the degree to which she took care of her family, and how she looked out for her friends. She showed up for me on numerous occasions where she didn’t have to, and I was always so grateful for her friendship then, as I certainly am now.⁣

And even as I sit here, struggling to comprehend, gutted beyond description- the very thought of her cracks me up and still brings a smile to my face. That was Naya’s gift. And it's a gift that will never go away. ⁣

Rest in peace you wild, hilarious, beautiful angel.

How can you convey all your love and respect for someone in one post? How can you summarize a decade of friendship and laughter with words alone? If you were friends with Naya Rivera, you simply can’t. Her brilliance and humor were unmatched. Her beauty and talent were otherworldly. She spoke truth to power with poise and fearlessness. She could turn a bad day into a great day with a single remark. She inspired and uplifted people without even trying. Being close to her was both a badge of honor and a suit of armor. Naya was truly one of a kind, and she always will be. 💔 Sending all my love to her wonderful family and her beautiful son.

Dear Naya, 

I’m failing miserably to process this news. I always imagined old future senior moments where we would hear your infectious laughter down the hall knowing that our funny bone was in for a treat. To many people, myself included, you were the life of the party. Not only able to rock when fun was to be had after a long day but that shining friend that was always willing to listen, offer sympathy, perspective and at times, give much needed levity to any situation. 

You were a beast on the show. I admired you as I watched you nail multi page monologues that you learned moments before and pour your heart into every performance with an energy that had that snicks special written all over it. Our deep conversations about life inbetween scenes are some of my favorite moments with you. Getting to hear about your hopes and dreams for the future and with Josey’s arrival, ‘Your greatest success’ I was so happy to see your dream turn into reality. 

You deserved more. I’m so sorry but you deserved more. You gave life your all and I hope all the good that you have given to the world will be returned in abundance when you reunite with our brother in the heavenly skies. I’m so grateful for our memories. We will make sure to keep your legacy and spirit alive so Josey will grow up to know the incredible woman you were. Love you, Naya. You are already missed. Eternally. 

-HSJ

Naya and I fell into stride with such ease, she was my first friend and ally on our show. In the pilot, our characters came and went with such swiftness. Our enthusiasm brimmed with all of the unknown. We tried to grasp what the other cast members must be feeling as we were working in such separate manners. We dared to dream. What if this show worked? Wouldn’t that be something? Something was brimming, it was palpable. And thank god it worked. Naya’s magnetic talent was going to be unleashed, we just didn’t know it yet. ⁣⁣

I’ve been revisiting Naya’s performances on our show and it has brought me great joy. To work with her was a gift. There was a great deal to absorb - her work ethic, her fearlessness, her talent - supreme. Naya had a laugh that would envelop you and hold you captive. She was mesmerizing. That twinkle in her eye, her luminous smile. Naya lead with truth, humor, wit. I loved her for all of these reasons. ⁣⁣

I loved her sense of curiosity and wanderlust. I was lucky enough to be her travel partner for some of my most favorite adventures. As I write this, I’m grinning with swelling memories of a spontenaous 36 hour excursion - one might even say diversion - to Paris. With Naya, everything was possible and would often simply unfold before us, almost magically.⁣⁣

On this particular jaunt, within ten minutes of checking into our hotel, we found ourselves strolling the halls of L'École des Beaux-Arts, sipping wine from paper cups with students showcasing their latest work. It was fantastic. We were united in our commitment to discovery. And there was always a list of cleverly curated ideas in Naya’s back pocket, should we need it. ⁣⁣

I cannot make sense of this tremendous loss. I will hold onto her and these memories for the rest of time, alongside our Glee family. Please hold space for her, her family, her beautiful boy. ⁣⁣

In absolute, loving memory.

Naya The world is at such a loss and I am truly heartbroken. I still remember the day I met you. You Walked straight up to me, grabbed me by the face and drug me around until I met every single person on set, introducing me as “new booty”. You were one of the first people who made me feel like family when others saw me as an outsider. I didn’t know then that you would become my family and that’s just who you were to everyone.. A Mother, Sister, Daughter and most of all a friend. Your massive heart and bright spark is what carried our entire show, when at times we all felt like giving up. 

You always showed up for me when I needed some wisdom or was down and just needed someone to talk to. You took care of everyone around you in a way that was so warm and comforting and you sure knew how to throw a hell of a party! 

I always admired your bravery and passion to fight for what’s right even when it seemed like you were up against the world. Your spirit is contagious and you continue to make everyone you have touched a better and stronger person by knowing you. 

My favorite part of glee was getting to watch you perform and shine up close every day. You really were the pulse of that show. Anyone who was blessed enough to see and experience your raw talent knows it to be true. You’re one of the smartest and most gifted people I have ever met. There is no one like you and there never will be.

You have changed peoples lives all around the world and you continue to change mine forever. I will never forget your love and kindness. Thank you for sharing your spirit Angel.

I will miss you always. I Love you Naya

For the last 7 years the 13th of July has shattered our hearts beyond repair. There aren’t enough words to describe the pain we are feeling, we are truly heartbroken at the loss of @nayarivera .

Naya, Cory loved you so so much. He cherished your friendship more than you will ever know. From the laughs you shared, to the strength you gave him when he needed it the most. Cory truly adored you. He was in awe of your incredible talent, the way you gave everything you had to each performance; the slap in the auditorium was one of his favourite stories to share. You once said Cory was like a member of your family; you will always be a part of ours. We’ll carry you in our hearts forever. We miss you. Friends reunited for eternity.

We send all our love and strength to your beautiful boy, your family, friends and fans 💔🐻💔

[incarnateirony]

Hi!

Sorry for troubling you with this but I wanted to clarify something for myself. In those posts where you were answering people's questions about, whether Cas's got himself a soul or was saved by Jack, and were saying that it all was in the script, which leaked a long time ago, and all over your meta. But how can people, who didn't read the script and your posts, work it out? Like was there something on the show which said how souls are created through feelings? Because it seems a bit of a stretch that the authors made, for example, so much obvious that Cas's confession was love confession but failed to deliver some at least visual evidence that he got to heaven (with some spec of light in the Empty or something). They had to give some verbal or noticeable visual evidence of the process of creating a soul or Cas going to heaven.

Or we were supposed to get this from the fact that souls don't go to the Empty?

Everyone explained it with Jack because they have seen him an episode before calling desperately for Cas because he missed him and then getting the abilities to bring him back.

Figuring out the soul option from only TV episodes requires analysis if it is even possible, which i don't think, the authors thought the audience would do.

So what do you think about it?

Sorry for the length. And thank you.

So here’s the deal: do I imagine somewhere, in the depths of official business notes even beyond script drafts, there may even be a “yeah sure whatever jack brought him back” to answer any questions to the same suits that can’t tell what the fucking Roadhouse is much less more nuanced story beats? Sure.

But here’s the beats.

Check my #Shadow and #Cosmogenesis tags to begin--but in summary: the shadow is both a protogenic and personal psychological concept of the unformed or unaddressed self, and As-Above-So-Below, of the unformed and unperceived world. That is to say-- everyone and everything has a shadow. If you check out Jung, he explains essentially that the shadow is everything we repress about ourselves or fear addressing.

Now, look at the Occultum, where Jack reclaimed his soul; as Cas put it: “Loosely translated: In order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you.” -- but also remember the same episode highlighted “Occultum” is just Latin for “hidden.” -- They made an entire funny trade-off about that. 

See, with the alchemy theme on the year, the original cipher reads, in Latin:  “Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem,” or in English, “Visit the interior of the earth and rectifying you will find the hidden stone.” 

The motto originated in L’Azoth des Philosophes by the 15th Century alchemist Basilius Valentinus. But in alchemy, the shorthand is that the earth is symbolic of the body, and the hidden stone is the perfect soul. 

Naming it the Occultum in Latin, and highlighting the latin, then randomly transcribing it in Enochian for Castiel to be the one to get that line spoken was incredibly poignant: they streamlined the symbolism with his “roughly translated” commentary, but the sentiment remained. Given, the gnostic dweebs in our server, when we realized Jack literally ATE IT:

Either way, Jack disappears into the occultum within him to unlock his hidden soul, where the serpent asks one of the prime questions of the journey of the self: “Who Are You?” -- in rectifying what is found there, Jack rediscovers his soul and is reborn.

But the Occultum isn’t only JUST this literal place. It’s a place, it’s a thing, whatever it is, it’s powerful. That was the core key to come in contact with it, but the moral of the story is simple: the kingdom of heaven is within you all along. 

But first we have issues to rectify.

The stages are simple. The Shadow asks, “Who are they?” in its dawning state, lacking self identity. On a cosmogenic level, this is where for example Chuck and Amara come to be. On a personal level, this is when we look both outward at other people for identity and even almost disassociated from ourselves.

“I know what you hate, I know who you love, what you fear, there is nothing for you back there.” - Castiel’s shadow on an individual level reflected this in a detached third person sort of way, even if the reflection itself is incredibly personal. The speech is “I speak in order to affirm we are the same.” -- I’m you, you’re me. But if the shadow is rejected, we do not address it.

The Animus, or basic ego, asks “Who am I?” it’s the first stage of wondering. The speech phase is marked “I don’t speak as I don’t dare.” By the next phase (Anima, the superego or dawning soul), it’s “Who are you?” and the speech phase is “I speak as I don’t dare to remain silent.”

On Castiel’s journey, this comes through things like the prayer group where he talks about rediscovering who he was. In the raw initial text, it was coming to realize that he became a father and found a family. But later, 15.18 -- as we approach a stage called Rubedo or the Magician -- has the question “Who art thou”. The speech stage is “I speak in order to hear what I have to say.”

Now, Dean for example had his share of this journey even if it was less about gaining a soul as SPN gives him one as a human birthright but more in repairing the damages on it and also learning when to let go. The four phases are also associated with birthing phases. And death phases. Rubedo is death and birth at the same time.

Notice closely Castiel’s dialogue with Dean; in Purgatory, in a stage reflective of the shadow called Nigredo, where their relationship had rotten and putrefied, he took a knee into Albedo, connected to Animus. I don’t know why I get so angry. It’s always been there. And I can’t stop it. You’re my best friend and I just let you go. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop it. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. Cas, there’s something I have to tell you. 

But I don’t speak as I don’t dare/you don’t have to say it.

Castiel turned around in his own awakening and answered this prayer. He addressed why Dean has these self worth and anger issues and how worthy he is of love.

This, just like several other visuals on the year (15.09, 13) are symbolic of something called the Marriage of the Minds. If Grace/Mind is embodied in Castiel, which also mirrors the divine feminine (hence calling the light Rowena parallel in both his death and what he does post-rebirth), and well--Soul and humanity has always been Dean, which is also the solar emblem. Their union gives life to the World, which they just kept kicking us in the teeth with both the phrase of over the year and the visuals in 19. Cue, planetary zoomout, for reasons.

But this also falls into the shadow’s “threat” to Castiel: When you let the sun shine on your face, that’s when I’ll come.

Castiel poured out his heart and, well... soul, basically, about Dean. He changed because of Dean. He carried his torch of right and wrong and what it meant to love because of Dean. Dean changed him. And the moon and mind was full of light reflected in the soul, because of what they did and learned for the Whole World. For love.

A phrase from the corpus hermeticum is, “The cause of Death is Love, but Love is All,” and All itself is another macro/microcosm: the All is the Shadow when perceived, the universal soul, it is essentially--in SPN terms--heaven, unadulterated by the whims of the demiurge that was Chuck. It is the place where souls are born -- as the occultum, the garden, led to Eden, which DSOTM also tells us some see as god’s throne. It’s that we all have a throne inside of ourselves. 

Castiel in subsuming Death in an act of love addressed his every fear and repressed issue of himself, and came to learn that Happiness wasn’t in the having, it was in the Being, it was in the Just Speaking It. The just tweeting it out.

But if you track back to those cosmogenics tags, Being comes from the Prima Materia, and the Prima Materia once perceived is the light of the world that is the soul. Souls are real, everything else is perception. People, families, we are. 

The Empty is both a cosmogenic paradox and a place within ourselves of our own hollowness -- those things we won’t let ourselves have or feel, but without it, we will never be complete. The idea embodied in the occultum is opposite of that, but also within all of us. It’s nowhere-everywhere-in-us. It’s a matter of asking: Who are you? Who am I?

“You think that’s what you are/That is not who you are.” Castiel addressed, but instead told him of love, and the world, and being the most loving man he would ever meet. “That is who you are.”

In this moment Castiel addressed both himself, and even Dean’s issues. Castiel answered who he was and, at the same time, helped Dean come to peace with who *he* is. And that sacrifice and moment would not be in vain. So it was time to stop the anger, and the desperation, and to live on as intended, and eventually let go in peace come his time. 

Sam’s path on this was always leading opposite and always leading him towards earth. Not in a bad way either. It’s fine to do that. Sam had his own chance at individuality told in the future-story. 

But it’s about the Shadow integration, about the difference in Being or Absence and knowing what is Good, in about the peace we can find in all of ourselves to be complete. 

I do feel a bit sad that the plot end had to be diverted; they generally addressed the idea of Dean needing to speak at the end of the road. But the original point he “had to tell you” and got shut down on never manifest, to the expectable disappointment of all. But I guess that’s what eternity-ever-after is for. 

“Castiel is At Peace.” -- At Peace. Heaven tag. Not the Empty. “Mary Winchester is At Peace”, remember that? And teaching the guys to let go and move on because she was at peace?

Even souls can burn out--that’s what demons even are after all. The fact that Dean’s story long walked parallel to the threat of wandering into the Empty isn’t a fluke either. Because of his own issues the concept reflects. But he didn’t. He went to heaven. And probably has 15.09 and 15.18 to thank for that in the subtext.

Integrating with the shadow to become a complete persona (Jung) or soul (general alchemy) aka gold (also general alchemy) doesn’t leave regrets to even sit there and dream about. In fact, the entire heaven structure and division--even that’s perceptual. Check out the Axis Mundi meta on that. Chuck protected his Thought Box against the shadow and it needed summoned, but anybody notice it’s fine on rolling through heaven? It’s up to the rules in each chamber there. It’s just the flipside of the garden/throne/heaven-- it’s not being At Peace. It’s not being full. It’s not being your complete self. It’s just Absence (14.18, the soul.)

The Shadow haunted Castiel as his fears, and when Castiel lacked self worth and to some extent invited death and suffering, it reflected those desires. But in addressing the reasons for having them, it turns into another form of Being entirely.

[honey-andtea1889]

Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice

AN: Hi babies! So I am obsessed with Fall and I want to do this with someone eventually because I’m v lonely and want to express my hopeless romantic side to literally everyone on the Internet lol and I chose the song because this is literally one of my favorite songs ever and I feel like it fits so well with this!! Please request things my lovelies! 

Summary: Matthew just wants to spend his one day off with Y/N

Song: I Remember You by Seth MacFarlane

Warnings: Extreme fluff, like might make you puke glitter kinda fluff

Word Count: 1974 (kinda small but still)

October is one of Matthew’s favorite months. He loved the smell of the fresh fall air, the crunchy leaves under his feet, Halloween, and just the overall aesthetic of the season. He also enjoyed the cooler temperatures only because that meant more snuggles from his girl. It’s been hard recently due to filming movies and working on his new book, but you were so understanding of it all. That’s what Matthew adored about you.

You knew that with dating an actor, he’d be away filming movies or tv shows, doing what he loves. That’s what you admired about Matthew. He was so passionate about his work and took pride in everything he did. You were so proud of him and everything he accomplished. Not to say he wasn’t proud of you either. You had been attending college and you’ve been working so hard with your course work. 

One of the props to days like this is that both you and Matthew had the day off together. You both had been working so hard and definitely deserved a break. It was also very rare that the two of you had days off together. Usually, it would alternate which made it hard to see each other throughout the day but you two always made time in the evening to catch up and talk about how the day went.

Matthew woke up to the warm feeling of the Fall sun beaming through the shared bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he turned over to you. A smile graced his face as he saw you asleep next to him. He ran his fingers over your cheek as he admired your features. He noticed how your mouth was slightly opened as you breathed in and out. Your hair was a messy due to tossing and turning, dreaming sweet dreams. The blankets covered you comfortably, making you look like a cute little burrito.

Matthew could feel his heart expand and he studied you. Your eyes soon flutter open to be met with his chocolate brown eyes. You smile and snuggle closer to him, feeling his body heat take over you.

“Good morning, Darling.” Matthew whispered, kissing your head.

“Good morning, my love.” You smiled.

You glanced up at the man you are so lucky to call your boyfriend and begin to play with his hair. He chuckles as you continue to tamper with the growing locks that you’ve come to adore oh so much. 

You and Matthew have been dating for almost two years now, which was a huge accomplishment on your end because you weren’t really into the dating scene. He was actually the first person in a long time to have you even consider dating. It was almost love at first sight. the two of you have pretty much been inseparable since. 

Matthew kissed your lips sweetly as you snuggled into his neck. 

“So, what’re our plans today lovie? You choose.” You said as you ran your fingers up and down his chest. 

Matthew sighed contently and thought about the one thing he’d want to do. His smile began to break through as he looked down at you with gleaming eyes. You raised an eyebrow as he bit into his lip. 

“If you want my honest answer, I really just want to stay home with you. maybe we can bake up some stuff and watch a movie! We haven’t really had a day where we just stayed home and relaxed with each other, think we may be long overdue for that.” Matthew grinned. 

You beamed at the idea. 

He wasn’t wrong. The two of you never really had an at home day. Either you were at school or the library and Matthew was out doing actor stuff. It wasn’t easy and sometimes, it became very stressful on you both. An R&R (rest and relaxation) day is just what the Doctor ordered. 

“Okay! Do you want breakfast?” You asked as you shot out of bed. 

Matthew chuckled at your enthusiasm, moving over and planting his feet on the floor. 

“That doesn’t sound bad. But if I can be frank, we do have pancakes and eggs often, can I make a new suggestion?” He asked. 

“Of course baby, I never mind switching things up.” You winked. 

Matthew smirked back at you as he stood up and stretched out his lanky limbs. 

“How about Cinnamon Rolls? My mom could text me her recipe and we can make them ourselves!” he said as he made his way to you. 

You giggled as you took his hand and led the way downstairs into your shared kitchen. You and Matthew have been living together for about three months now and you couldn’t be happier. He had asked while you were having lunch together at a little Bistro down the block from your college. Your heart had filled with so much love that you squealed in the middle of the small café, causing customers to stare at you two. Since then, you’ve made his snug little home into yours. 

Matthew was awaiting the text from his mom while you began to make some pumpkin spice coffee. It was one of your favorite flavors, and with how the weather was, it only made sense to divulge into the sweet flavored coffee. Matthew chuckled at your choice of drink. He didn’t mind the flavor but it wasn’t his favorite. However, he knew how you felt about it, so he never even tried to poke fun at it. 

“Ya know what movie you wanna watch?” He asked, looking up from his phone. 

“I know it’s super corny, but The Nightmare Before Christmas. I haven’t seen it in a while.” You said as you finished making your coffee. 

You took a sip of the warm liquid and sighed happily. Matthew smiled. His phone soon binged, signaling that his mother had responded with the recipe for her famous Cinnamon Rolls. Matthew handed the phone to you. You looked at the recipe and began to grab the ingredients. You began to follow the steps to create the delicious pastry. Matthew watched with attentive, loving eyes. 

Matthew had been thinking about your futures together. He knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, he just wasn’t sure how or when he should do it. All of his friends pushed him to ask, hell even his older sister was wanting them to tie the damn knot. He just wasn't sure when was the right time. 

You slipped the freshly twisted cinnamon rolls in the oven. You cleaned up a bit and went back to sipping your coffee. 

“Do you think they’ll be as good as your mom’s?” You asked. 

“Of course they will, darling. Your cooking is amazing!” Matthew boasted. 

“Well thank you, lovie. I greatly appreciate it.” You smiled. 

Matthew leaned over the counter and pecked your lips softly. You softly placed your hand on his cheek after he pulled away and studied his features. His deep brown eyes were something you could get lost in. He had the cutest little button nose, and his full lips were a dream that you so enjoyed on yours. In your eyes, he is the most perfect human, your perfect human. 

“You know what we need? Some music!” You squealed. 

You turned to your phone and searched for the song that you and Matthew immensely enjoyed. You typed in I Remember You sung by Seth Macfarlane. Matthew broke into a smile as the sweet song began to play through the speakers. 

Was it in Tahiti? Were we on the Nile? Long, long ago Say an hour or so I recall that I saw your smile

You grinned as you slowly swayed to the song. The warm feeling took over you as the song continued. 

I remember you You're the one who made My dreams come true A few kisses ago

Matthew made his way over to you, his arms wrapping around your waist and carefully taking your delicate hand in his. The two of you began to slow dance in your kitchen, the smell of cinnamon rolls and pumpkin spice engulfing the both of you and the sound of Jazz music taking control of the sweet moment. 

The song continued to play as you danced. 

I remember you You're the one who said "I love you, too," I do Didn't you know? 

 I remember, too A distant bell And stars that fell like rain Out of the blue 

You rested your head on Matthew’s shoulder, the smell of bergamot, mahogany, and patchouli taking over your sense. You loved the way he smelled. It was warm and welcoming. He kissed your head as he spun you around the tiled floor. 

When my life is through And the angels ask me to recall The thrill of them all Then I shall tell them I remember you

  Just as the song ended, the oven beeped for the cinnamon rolls, indicating that the pastries were done. You parted with Matthew, grabbing the oven mitt and pulling the cinnamon rolls out. As they cooled, you made the delicious frosting to top off the pastries. Once you were finished with it, you poured the frosting on the cinnamon rolls and quickly cleaned up. Matthew helped himself to one and moaned at the taste of it. 

“Oh my god babe. These are amazing!” Matthew complimented as he took another bite. 

You giggled and grabbed a cinnamon roll for yourself, taking a bite of the warm pastry. 

“Come on, let’s get the movie started.” You perked, taking his hand and leading him to the living room. 

Matthew grabbed the remote and got the movie started. The opening scene to the movie gave you goosebumps as you sang along. Matthew joined you, the two of you giggling once the song was over. 

The final scene came quicker than you thought it would’ve. This scene topped every other in the movie. You were singing along with Jack and Sally, a smile breaking out on your face 

 My dearest friend, If you don't mind I'd like to join you by your side

Matthew quietly joined in as he watched you. 

Where we could gaze into the stars And sit together now and forever For it is plain as anyone could see We're simply meant to be 

The scene ended with the famous Jack and Sally kiss. You looked over to see Matthew staring at you with slight tears in his eyes. 

“Lovie, what’s wrong?” You questioned, scooting closer to him. 

“I love you so much Y/N. I really, really do. I didn’t think I’d be able to love anyone as much as I love you and I think today solidified my thoughts and feelings.” He gazed as you played with his hair. 

Matthew then proceeded to get down on one knee and your breath got caught in your throat. 

“Y/N, I don’t have a ring right now but today with dancing with you and just being with you, I know that I want days like this for the rest of my life. I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Matthew smiled as he sniffled. 

Tears ran down your cheek as you nodded quickly. You kissed him passionately. Tears both staining your faces as you shared the kiss. He pulled away and looked into your eyes as he held yours hands. 

“Sorry, I didn’t really plan this out all that well. I just couldn’t wait.” He whispered. 

You sniffled and played with his hair. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled. 

Matthew grinned and kissed you again. 

From here on out, Matthew wasn’t your boyfriend, he was your fiancé. 

[secretlywritingstories]

I am regularly so amazed and giddy about content made by people in fandoms. It makes me happy that I am alive particularly in this time where it’s so easy to share and find other people who enjoy the same thing that you do and you can get together both to talk about it but also to create stuff. I think that’s one of the things that make us fundamentally human. We crave to make stuff, it comes so naturally to us.

I am talking about every aspect of fandom creations. From the artists, the writers, the theories, the gif makers, the editors, cosplayers, and anyone else adding to the pile. Every little piece of content feels like a bit of a love letter to the things we love. Even the love letters that are a protest against canon, maybe in particularly those at times. The fact that there is something in there, maybe characters, maybe the universe, that you care so much for but you want it in a new way that you think better. It can be a big fuck you to parts of it, and still carefully holding your favourite parts. 

I like when fandoms work like that. I wholeheartedly hope that everyone can carve out their own corner, no matter if it’s a larger one that includes most of the fandom, or a smaller one with just carefully selected and likeminded people. Fandoms get a bad rep, and there are things about them that goes too far, which I acknowledge, but that is not my focus with these spilled thoughts. I would much rather talk about the good parts. The parts that bring me joy and make me smile. 

It’s the thousands if not millions of hours we collectively pour into making things. Not for any particular “obvious” or profitable reason. Just for a love of it. Billions of hours poured and poured into these things we love. It’s often a learning experience too. When you start out, you’re a rocky, you’re just fumbling, maybe still finding your style but if you stick with it, then you grow. I’ve both seen edits, gifs and art, read fic and theories that made me want to shout of joy and amazement. Sometimes, it makes me wonder why these people aren’t out here doing something so cool in a professional capacity. 

I catch myself when I think that. Because it is insanely cool if fan creators want to make their own original stuff or paid work for others, but it’s not meant to be about the money. I think it is kind of cool that some people can get money from fanworks, that rocks. But I don’t think it’s the motivation for most. I think, and I at least know from my own experience, that it’s this instinctive drive. This string winding around my heart and giving a tug forward. 

For me, fandoms are a space to let the imagination run wild and for limitations to only be set by myself. Here, we should be allowed to make everything we want. Even, or maybe especially, if it’s really niche and just something we make for ourselves. I have found that there will always be at least another person who will love your niche creation, and likely more than one. Fandom people know how to find each other. 

Thank you to all fanworks creators - and also to all the invisible one that might feel like they don’t make anything. That’s not true, we’re all in this together. 

[dreamwraith]

Baking

Summary: In home economics, Tucker and Danny are told to bake a cake. The teachers should know better than to pair those two together when food is involved… Warning: Danny and Tucker are a bit sexist, but hopefully no worse than canon Pairings: Danny and Tucker being best friends. Implied DxS feelings, but nothing official

On Ao3

Danny drummed his fingers against the countertop, and the dull tap-tap-tap-tap created a steady rhythm to the Dumpty Humpty song he had stuck in his head. A tap-tip-tap soon joined his beat, adding a new dimension to the cadence. Danny glanced at his best friend and smiled when he saw Tucker tapping the countertop with his pencil. Tucker returned the expression, but he added a quirked eyebrow. Danny, not one to back down, answered the unspoken challenge by humming softly. As the two reached the chorus, Tucker used his other hand to beat against his leg.

Seconds away from reaching Jonathan's awesome guitar solo, a great SNAP destroyed their tempo and made the boys jump. Danny was so startled, his jump caused his chair to overbalance. Their classmates burst out laughing, and Danny blushed in embarrassment. He quickly climbed back into his seat, but the damage was already done to his reputation.

Their teacher lifted the yard stick from Danny's desk, smirking in satisfaction. "Serves you boys right," she said. "This is Home Economics, not music class. If I catch you goofing off again, I'll be forced to give you detention—and you and I would both hate it if we have to spend more than our allotted hour together."

The two boys blinked stupidly at her.

She glowered. "I'll make this simple. If I catch you two playing around in this classroom again, I'll have you lazy yokels scrubbing every inch of my kitchen!" She turned sharply on her heel and made her way to the front of the class again.

After she'd returned to her lecture and the class stopped paying attention to them, Tucker leaned toward Danny and whispered, "Dude, did she just call us 'lazy yokels'?"

Danny nodded dumbly. "I think she did. What are yokels?"

"No clue…"

"I bet Sam would know if she were here…"

"I bet she'd blame the word usage on Ms. Loretta's man-hating issues."

"If that's true and she hates us, how are we even passing?"

Tucker flashed Danny a wide, white smile. "Not even that witch can resist my charms, Danny!"

Danny smirked, and leaned his cheek against his propped up hand. "There are ten girls in this class, Tucker, and we're the only guys. If no girl can resist your charms, how come you haven't got a date yet?"

Tucker flinched before scowling and muttering something too quiet for Danny to hear.

"What?"

"I said, it's because you keep stealing all the girls!" he whispered.

Danny drew back, blinking in surprise. "What?" He frowned. "What are you talking about, Tucker? I haven't even talked to half these girls!"

"And yet they keep on falling for you!"

"They are not!"

"They are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Prove it!"

"I—"

"Fenton! Foley!"

Danny and Tucker jumped, recoiling away from their counter. But the sound of a large stick striking metal didn't reach their ears and they slowly opened their eyes. Three counters away, at the front of the class, their teacher raised an eyebrow at their odd behavior.

Danny smiled nervously. "Y-yes, Ms. Loretta?"

"Turn to page 324 in your Home Economics book. You and Mr. Foley are baking a cake today."

"Us?" Danny asked.

"Bake a cake?" Tucker added, equally incredulous.

"By ourselves?"

"That is what you are here for, isn't it?" Ms. Loretta demanded. "To learn how to bake?"

Half a classroom away, and Loretta's angered presence was still enough to make Danny and Tucker cringe away from her. "Yes, ma'am," they said.

"Good." She returned to calling out groups.

Danny and Tucker looked at each other, flinching in unison.

"I don't suppose you know how to bake a cake?" Danny asked his best friend.

"I know how to charm my mom into making me a cake…" Tucker answered. "You?"

"Jazz usually handles the normal necessities like suppers and birthday parties." Danny pulled his book toward him and opened to the directed page. "I guess we'll just have to follow the instructions."

"Easier said than done, dude." Tucker tapped his finger below the tsp. symbol. "What does that even mean?"

Danny scratched his head. "Um, I think it means tablespoon…"

Tucker groaned, and dropped his head onto the countertop. "It would be so much easier to get a date with a girl if Ms. Wichita actually paired us up with the opposite sex. I'm always stuck with you in this class!"

"Normally, I'd be insulted, but this time, I agree with you. How the heck does she expect us to bake a cake without a girl's knowledge?"

"It's a conspiracy! She knows why we signed up for this dumb class, Danny. She knows…"

"No, she knows why you signed up," Danny corrected. "I'm here because my best friend insisted he needed a wingman."

"Yeah, but you've turned out to be a terrible wingman. You're supposed to send the ladies my way, not gather your own entourage."

Danny rolled his eyes. "We're back to that? You're being ridiculous, Tuck. None of these girls like me."

"Oh yeah?" Tucker lifted his head, and searched the room. He pointed to Natasha, a geeky redhead with braces and a lot of freckles. "Go ask her for a cup of sugar."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "But…we have sugar, Tuck. Why would I—"

"Just go ask her, clueless!"

Danny pouted but snatched up a measuring cup. "I'm not clueless…" he muttered to himself, walking off towards Natasha's station. Tucker must have heard, because he chuckled and shook his head at his friend's obliviousness.

Natasha's partner, a brunet named Amanda, spotted Danny walking towards them, and she quickly elbowed her friend. Natasha looked at her, and Amanda answered her silent question by pointing at Danny. Natasha's eyes widened, but she smiled at Danny when he reached their counter.

Danny smiled back. "Uh, hey, Natasha. Hey, Amanda."

"Hey, Danny," they said.

"What brings you over here?" Natasha asked.

Danny held up his white measuring cup. "Tucker sent me over to get some sugar."

Natasha glanced over at his and Tucker's counter, frowning slightly. "Don't you have sugar?"

"Yeah, but something must be wrong with it, because Tucker was really insistent I get some from you guys—er, girls."

Amanda and Natasha shared a look, and then burst out in giggles.

Danny blinked. "What?"

Natasha took the cup from his hands, smiling oddly at him. "It's nothing, Danny. Just a cup right?"

"Yup. Oh, and what does t-s-p stand for?"

"Teaspoon."

"…Oh…" Danny blushed and rubbed his neck, thinking, Whew, that was close.

Natasha turned around to get the sugar, giggling softly. Amanda leaned toward Danny, staring eagerly, almost creepily into his eyes. "So has Goth Girl made her move yet?"

Danny leaned back, blinking. "What? What move?" His eyes widened. "Sam's moving? Why haven't I heard of this?"

"Easy there, Danny," Natasha said, turning back around. "Sam's not going anywhere. It's just an inside joke."

"Oh." Danny pointed at the full cup of sugar in her hands. "Is that my sugar?"

"Uh." Natasha blushed, and jerked the cup out to him, the motion sending some of the crystals over the edge. "Yes. Here."

Danny took the cup, and flashed the girls a grateful smile. "Thanks. See you later."

"Yeah…bye, Danny."

Danny waved his hand as he turned around and made his way back to his own station. He heard Amanda say something about brunets, but she spoke too quietly for him to hear. He shrugged. They were odd, but then, all girls except for Sam were a mystery to him.

Well, he amended, Sam is a mystery sometimes too, but she's like one of the guys! …If I said that to her face she'd probably kill me…

Tucker grinned at Danny once he reached their counter. "So…"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"How did it go?"

Danny set the cup of sugar on the countertop. "I got the sugar. What was wrong with ours, by the way?"

Tucker frowned. "That's it? Just the sugar? You didn't get her phone number or anything?"

"No…" Danny said slowly. "Was I supposed to get her phone number for you? Is that what a wingman would do?"

Tucker face-palmed. "My gosh, Danny, you are clueless."

"Hey! I'm still new to this wingman stuff!"

"I don't mean that!" Tucker sighed, and looked up at the ceiling forlornly. "Where did I go wrong with him? I taught him everything I know, and yet he turned out like this…"

Danny wrinkled his nose, eyeing his best friend warily. "You're…acting weird, dude. …Are you being overshadowed?

"Of course not!"

"Then can we just bake the cake already?"

Tucker shrugged. "Might as well. Clearly nothing else is going to happen in this class…And it might be fun…"

Danny chuckled. "If Loretta heard you say that, she'd kick you out of her kitchen for suspicious behavior."

"Good thing she didn't hear it then."

"True." Danny pulled the cooking book towards him, and read a few of the instructions. "Alright. It says we first have to get a large mixing bowl."

Tucker bent down, and reached into the cupboard beneath their counter. He pulled out two bowls. "Red one or blue one?" "Does it matter?"

"I guess not." He put the blue one away, and placed the red one on the counter. "Next?"

"Um, 'pour in two cups of all purpose flour'," Danny read.

Tucker cocked his head to the side. "Is there another purpose for flour?"

"I once dumped a bag of flour over myself when I was eight," Danny said slowly. "Dad saw me, shouted GHOST, and brought out his prototype ecto-gun…Does that count?"

Tucker winced. He reached out a hand, and patted Danny's shoulder. "That's rough, dude."

His best friend shrugged; the present had numbed the pain from the past. Danny opened the flour container and measured out a cup. Tucker watched him pour the fluffy whiteness into the bowl with large, unblinking eyes. Danny repeated the process, and when he poured the last cup into the bowl, Tucker sighed in relief.

"This isn't so bad. We can totally do this!"

"Yeah," Danny agreed, smiling, "so far so good. Next is one, one half cup of sugar." He snatched the acquired cup of sugar off the counter, and dumped it into the bowl. He frowned questionably at Tucker "…Should I get a half cup from Natasha and Amanda, too?"

Tucker rolled his eyes. "No. Our sugar will do."

"If our sugar was fine, why did you make me get some from them?"

"A misguided attempt to help my friend overcome his issues," Tucker responded curtly. "Pour in another cup of sugar already."

"But the book says to only add another half cup."

"So? It's sugar!" Tucker waved his hands around. "How can sugar ruin anything?"

Danny grinned. "We'll have the sweetest cake in the class!"

"You bet!"

Danny dumped another cup of sugar into the bowl.

"'Half cup of shortening'," Tucker read. He frowned. "What the heck is shortening?"

"I don't know," Danny said. "Is it supposed to make you shrink?"

"Who wants that? Leave it out?"

"Leave it out."

"'Three and a half t-s-p of baking soda'…Are you sure that means tablespoons?"

Danny brows furrowed, thinking back. "Um, actually, I think Natasha said it was something else…"

"Like…?"

"…Uh, what's that other measuring spoon?"

"…I don't know!" Tucker threw up a hand. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would know? Why don't you go and ask a girl what it means?"

"Me?" Danny asked incredulously. "Why me?"

"Because the girls actually like you!"

"Don't start that again!"

"It's true!"

"It is not!"

"Problem, boys?"

Danny gasped, startled into another jump. His hand knocked against the bowl, and it would have fallen off the counter, if Tucker hadn't jumped forward and caught it. Both boys sighed in relief. They flashed each other triumphant grins, but Ms. Loretta, standing over them, frowned disapprovingly.

"Be careful!" she hissed.

"Sorry, Ms. Loretta," the boys said meekly.

"By the way, teach," Tucker said before Loretta could turn away. "What does t-s-p stand for?"

Loretta scowled. "You would already know the answer to that if you actually paid attention in my class." She walked away, leaving the boys to gape after her without an answer.

"Now that," Danny said slowly, "is one mean teacher…"

"Uh-huh…" Tucker agreed.

Danny rubbed his neck, and asked hesitantly, "What do we do now?"

"We'll use tablespoons," Tucker responded, like it was obvious. "As they say, you're first guess is your best guess…or something like that." He pulled a tablespoon out of the drawer and started measuring out the suspected amount of baking soda.

"I don't know, Tuck," Danny said hesitantly. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

Tucker scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We're baking a cake, Danny. What's the worst that can happen? Worst case scenario, the Lunch Lady makes an appearance and gets in a fight with Ms. Grouch…Actually, that'd be totally awesome!" Tucker laughed, imagining the fight. Danny smiled. "Now where's the vinegar? Mom's secret ingredient for everything is vinegar…"

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

"FENTON! FOLEY!"

Danny fought evil ghosts on a regular basis, but somehow Ms. Loretta's shouts always made him jump. It made no sense to him! And because the floor was covered in slippery foam, when he landed on his feet, he instantly lost his footing and fell on his butt with splash. Tucker managed to avoid Danny's fate by clinging desperately to the countertop, but his feet did a funny dance over the slick tiles.

Danny pointed a finger at his best friend. "He did it!"

"Lies!" Tucker shouted. He regained his balance, and pointed a finger of his own at Danny. "I'm innocent! Danny's the one who thought t-s-p meant tablespoons!"

"But Tucker was the one who wanted to add the vinegar!"

"And Danny didn't stop me!"

"That explains the foam," Ms. Loretta growled, her voice strained, "but not the flour or the eggs!"

Tucker grimaced as egg yolk slid down his face. "Danny threw eggs at me because he's in some serious denial."

"That's not true!" Danny objected. "I threw eggs at him, because Tucker dumped the flour over m-m-m—ACHOO!" Danny sneezed, and the force of the blast sent his head colliding with the bottom cabinets. The force made the white powder waft off Danny's hair and float around his head. "Ow…"

"But I only dumped the flour over him because I got frustrated with the cake and his cluelessness!"

"I'm not clueless!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"If you're not clueless, then how come you haven't noticed all the moves Sam has made?"

"What moves?"

"You would know if you weren't so clueless!"

"I'm not clueless!"

"Yes you are! And you're a terrible wingman!"

"I never even wanted to be your wingman!"

"Good because you suck at it!"

"And you suck at baking!"

"Like you're any better!"

"I—"

"DETENTION!"

[starlight-thoughts-ao3]

Handle With Care

Summary: For a moment, he considered walking back out of the room, give her the privacy she clearly desired, but she wasn't stopping, so he kept watching. She kept dancing to the delicate music and he sank to the floor in front of her, his legs crossed over themselves, a captive audience. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and as the song came to an end, she bowed in his direction.

TW: Nothing, so far as I’m aware. Let me know if you disagree.

Notes: This is part me being poetic and pretentious and part me being unable to get the image of Natasha dancing for Tony out of my head. I just, their relationship in the MCU is one I find fascinating. The "I should not care about you, but I can't help it" on both ends of that is something I can't help but play around with, and I've been toying with this fic for months and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I have it written so here. Cross-posted on AO3.

Human beings like to tell themselves such pretty lies. Things will get better. Everything happens for a reason. Love always wins. We tell ourselves stories where the good guys win and the bad guys get put away behind bars because we can't cope with the concept that sometimes, life just doesn't care. Tony Stark was born into a world that would always know his name, though not for the reasons he'd wish they would. Such careful manipulation of the facts made sure that no one would ever think that the man who was known as the Merchant of Death was so full of life and energy he was drowning in it. He poured all his passion into things he'd never publicize but they were his children; they were made of metal and code, but they were real and he loved them enough to hide them away from prying eyes. Act like you don't care about anything or anyone long enough and eventually, people stop caring about you.

Tony Stark was born a disappointment, and he learned early on that he'd be allowed more freedom if he didn't even try to change their minds. So he wore a mask made of recklessness and failure and watched as the world forgot that he was brilliant. The problem with masks is that some people will see them and decide it's far more interesting to see what they're hiding.

James Rhodes watched as the boy who was way too young to be sitting in the college lab twisted lines of code into a simple, but charming, personality like it was magic, then build it a body, sketching designs for the robotic arm over the blueprints his father wanted him to look over, just to see if his son had a mind for weapons as he did. James watched as Tony fixed all the issues his father's designs had, then go back to creating life like it was nothing special. James watched as his best friend was told his parents were dead and he watched as Tony shut himself off from the world and created JARVIS. It would occur to him later that AI was the first bit of armor Tony built.

Virginia Potts was the most terrifyingly competent person Tony had ever had the pleasure of being yelled at by. He had stumbled into her -- literally -- one night while leaving the R&D offices and she had given him hell for it, all while towering over him in her high heels, not a hair out of place. Her fury mixed with her composure startled a genuine laugh out of him. He promoted her on the spot. He liked the way she treated him as human, instead of a toy or a trophy. Things were easier with her at his side. The world didn't seem as overwhelming when she was there to take care of the practical things. She didn't judge him for having his head in the clouds, she just tied a string around his wrist and guided him like a balloon while she stayed firmly on the ground. It had taken him much too long to realize that there wasn't enough money in the world to keep someone with him, so her continued presence in his life had to be because she genuinely cared, and that was when he gave her the codes to his personal lab. He found her, his Pepper, asleep on the couch more than once, hair loose, feet curled up under a blanket she had brought down because she liked to watch him work.

One kidnapping and betrayal later, Tony began to distrust everything and anyone connected to his father. The only ones who actually seemed to care about him were the ones he chose himself.

Steve Rogers was everything everyone had wanted Tony to be and having all that rush back into his head out of nowhere put him on the defensive. He knew Pepper would tell him that none of that was Steve's fault and could he please get his head out of his head now? But he couldn't. This was the man that his father had idolized and searched for until the day he died. This was the man that Howard had poured all his time and energy into instead of his son, and while Tony knew, and he did know, that Rogers had no part of that, Tony was tired of the past coming to haunt him. Realistically, anyone his father had liked was bad news for him and there was no one, save Aunt Peggy, that Howard Stark liked more than Steve Rogers.

They clashed and shattered against each other, the whole world watching as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers fell into synchronization, the pieces of shared history falling to the wayside in the light of victory.

Natasha was difficult for Tony to process. She was the only person he'd ever met who wore as many masks as he did, and he tried desperately to not think about the fact that she was so deadly because of it. People underestimated her, didn't see how clever her eyes were, didn't see how she'd change everything about herself to fit the image they wanted to see. He saw how it wore her down. He could relate, and she knew it. It was strange, the art of being seen as what other people wanted shared between a man who was always in the spotlight and a woman who learned to blend into the background.

He liked to watch her dance. It wasn't that it made him forget that she was lethal -- quite the opposite, actually -- but more that she looked more human while she did. It was almost like whatever it was that allowed her to drift seamlessly between personalities melted away and left just a woman who loved to dance behind. She was talented and beautiful because of course, she was, but it was how carefree and unguarded she was as she twirled around that caught -- and held -- his attention. The funny thing is, he almost didn't have this, he almost let it slip through his fingers. The shooting range was originally going to be both Clint and Natasha's "welcome to the dysfunctional family" present, but the archer had a different idea.

"You want her happy, Stark, you give her a place to dance," Clint had said in such a no-nonsense tone that he almost thought that he was playing a prank on him, and if he followed through, she'd kill him without mercy. But the glint in Clint's eyes told him to take a chance, and so he lined one wall of the gym with mirrors and had a barre installed, much to the confusion of the builders. When he took all of them around the tower, the way her fingers trailed along the metal was reverent. She and Clint shared a look, he nodded, and suddenly Tony's arms were full of a redhead who could kill in an instant if she wanted.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. He's still not sure what platitudes he said, but a second later, she was across the room, no hint of the raw emotion she had just displayed on her face. And that was that.

He hadn't expected to ever see her actually use the space he had carved out for her, as it was well known that she was in the gym late at night when the more sensible members of their team had long since gone to sleep or pretended to. But he was no stranger to aimless insomnia, and had wandered into the gym one night, just walking around, and had been startled out of daydreams by slow music, and it would have been ethereal if not for the haunting melody. The sound of her feet hitting the floor came after and his eyes drifted to her. It was in that moment he had reconsidered the meaning of the word "revealing". He had certainly seen more of her skin than the leotard was showing, but he had never seen more of her. He looked so much like his father that they tended to forget that he was Maria's son as well. He'd been to enough ballet performances to know that while her movements weren't the most technically accurate, that was only because she didn't want them to be. He also knew she was aware of his presence. For a moment, he considered walking back out of the room, give her the privacy she clearly desired, but she wasn't stopping, so he kept watching. She kept dancing to the delicate music and he sank to the floor in front of her, his legs crossed over themselves, a captive audience. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and as the song came to an end, she bowed in his direction.

"You could do that professionally, you know. Drop the whole spy thing and just do that," he told her as she offered him her hand. She shook her head.

"No, I couldn't," she said. He looked her up and down, and smiled sadly.

"No, you couldn't," he agreed, "but you should dance for us, sometimes. Pretty sure that little number you just did would scandalize our dear captain." He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed and laughed. Tony pulled her into him and began a simple waltz in the silence. She fell into step so effortlessly that it almost startled him, but only almost.

"Maybe I'll dance for everyone one day. We'll see. It's not personal, it's just," she sighed, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"It's just too personal," he suggested. She nodded. His hands on her body felt warm and distracting in a way she was not accustomed to. They were not wandering; they stayed exactly where they were supposed to be for the dance, and while his embrace was steady, it was not strict. She could walk away from this moment, and he would let her.

"I don't know how to let people in, Tony. I don't know how to be a person, not really." Her steps never faltered, but her voice wobbled, just a bit.

"One person at a time, one little truth at a time," he said, switching the dance from a formal ballroom to a playful mishmash of whatever he wanted. She grinned and teased him with chaos of her own. She twirled away from him, and as just as he pulled her back to him, he whispered into her ear, "and sometimes, Miss Rushman, you don't let them in at all. They come barging in anyway and you hope and pray they don't break your heart."

[knight-queen]

Lunatic Parade Yuma Mukami –(Chapter 4)

[Chapter O 1]  [Chapter 2]  [Chapter 3]  [Chapter 4]  [Final] 

一

Place: Tart Tatan , Glimmer Street Restaurants 

Yui: (For now, he told me to get something to eat as I got hungry but…)

Yuma: Ah...how shall we get staaart…

Yui: It was...the one who chased two rabbits didn’t get a single one.

Yuma: Aah...what’d ya mean?

Yui: I meant, it was impossible to get both heart and that giant cake at one shot.

Yuma: Tch...fuck. Don’t just decide the rare things or stuff all for yourself!

Aah, when I feel irritated, it gets on my nerves.

Yui: (I’m aware that I can’t have a gloomy mood but, it’s not impossible to...)

(get back my heart…)

*Running footsteps*

Yuma: Nh? That man is….

The fear store Manager:  Ooh! You’re ‘re after all, I got you!!!

Yui: Good afternoon! Why are you in a hurry?

The fear shop Manager: Details explanation will be later! Anyway, I want you to come with me!

Yuma: Jeez...what’s now?

Place: サントノレパーク通り / Saint Honoré Park Street

Yui: (Shop Manager...he’s running surprisingly fast…!)

Yuma: I knew, the bakers were slow but steady...Yui! Have a look there!

Yui: Eh?

Place: サントノレパーク通り /  Saint Honoré Park Street

Yui: (There’s a curtain in the giant cake’s space…?)

Yuma: Oi, that curtain, what’s that?

Shop Manager: I’ll have you to look at that no matter what. Come on, hold this rope?

Yui: Eh?

*Hold the rope*

Shop Manager: You too! Don’t pull it roughly, okay?

Yuma: Y- yeah…

Shop Manager: Aight, we’ll start counting. Hey, is everyone prepared?

Clown D: Of course!

Shop assistant: Same here, we’re ready!

Shop Manager: Okay then….One, two and ー!!

*Uncovers the cake*

Yui: This is...a new giant cake?

Shop Manager: Yeah, we ended up making one.

Yui: Eeh?

Yuma: However...isn’t it a little different though? It’s huge but the color is also different.

Shop Assistant: Fufu~ there was a lack of ingredients at last. So, we changed it’s usual design, therefore this time is a cheese-cake!

Clown D: For this, the rear car also smelled like cheese~!

Yui: (Wow…!)

Yuma: Heeh~ It means y'all did it.

Manager:  Aah, that was the spirit. Since, it was stolen, so decided to rebake once ‘gain!

You taught us the lesson to never give up. Thanks alot for that.

Yui: No, we didn’t do any…

Manager: Nope, I’m sure, we couldn’t get stirred up all by ourselves like this.

You could face many dangers in order to bring back the cake, am I wrong?

Yuma: Aah? I don’t get it?

Clown D: Ms. Assistant, you can’t hide the truth!

Assistant: Yeah. When you were passing by through the garden shop street...you bought the seedling of the demon-world strawberry, right? 

-> Spoiler! 魔界イチゴ means Demon world’s strawberry literally! 

Yuma: Y- yeah, what’s wrong ‘bout that?

Manager: Demon world’s strawberry has a very complex color plus the taste is very luxurious...but you still wanted to plant it, which is pretty difficult to.

It’s bines completely move like a hitting whips and if the flower blooms, then the pollens are deadly poisoned, in some cases, it is also called devil strawberry.

Despite of these, you still thought you had to grow that...for the giant cake...uuuh *cries out*

Yuma: Tha- that’s right...if it’s me then, it’s a piece of cake...haha…*fake smile*

Yui: (...Does that mean he bought it without knowing anything…)

Manager: Anyways! As you showed up your stubborn side, we also couldn’t give up at all.

Me too, more, more, much more than before! I’ll have pledged to having a warming up passion for making cake!!

Assistant: Thanks to that, we’ve passed a wonderful time...really, thank you.

And also, could you concentrate on finding a rare thing for Earl Walter...for your heart?

Yui: Eh…?

Manager: You told us the time cake was stolen, no?

Clown D: We have been worried~ Could it be that you were putting off your own purposes for us.

Manager: Thank you for all of these feelings...and also you helped us, we were encouraged.

Yui: That’s….same here, thank you.

(The truth’s that….we were the one to break the cake from the very first...but still they cared about us)

Yui: Really, thank you so much.

Manager: It’s aight! You were also in trouble.

Assistant: If everything goes well, then come again for eating the cake. We’ll serve it.

Yui: Ah...yes…

( I see. Everyone’s taking me as a resident of demon-world, not a human)

(It hurts when I feel like I’m deceiving them…)

Selectionー

-> Tell them you are a human /人間だと言う 

 -> Be silent/  黙っておく  (+Correct)

Yui: (I want to say bit, but I’ll end up creating chaos for sure)

(There may be bad people out there and also I don’t want to pour water on this excitement)

*Yuma gets closer suddenly*

Yuma: Yui…

Yui: Eh..?

*Strokes her hair*

Yui: (He’s...stroking my hair…)

(Does he know that I’m being worried)

Yuma: ...You better not say extra words. You gotta lie at this point.

Yui: Yes...got it.

Yuma: Aah--, sorry for making worries! We’ll concentrate on getting heart from here on!

Clown D: Yup, yup, do your best~!!

*Yuma’s BGM*

Yuma: Aight, this time for sure! We’ll protect the cake!

Manager: But...didn’t you hear what we just said? Heart!?

Yuma: Kukuh….unfortunately, I’m not a kind man who’ll just act on protecting the cake, ya’know? Well, I’ll explain my plan.

Earl will be coming to steal this cheese-cake too. Hit it in all newspapers!!

Yui: Ah...I see…!

Clown D: But, will the cake get stolen again?

Yuma: Dumbass, we have no choice but to bring the same topic. This time I ain’t allowed to fall behind!

Protect the cake too and following that, I’ll get the heart back!...make sense?

Yui: yes…!

Assistant: If that’s the deal, then we’ll cooperate too!

We have business in the shop, so it’s impossible to help all the way but...after that, let’s have the vow and help them!

Yuma: Oh! My bad!....This girl looks so overwhelming, so I’ll count on you being super nice!!

Yui: It’s...shameless thing.

Yuma: It’s fine ‘cuz there’ll be our victory from ‘re on.

*After a while*

Yui: (It’s been a long time but…)

Yuma: He’s not showing an appearance. Where’s he, that bastaard Earl!

Yui: (The pedestrian traffic is also less than before)

(I can’t have a guess since the demon world is dark, but to its residents, this time is natural)

Sorry for having all of you gathered here. I’m sleepy for a while, is it okay to get a sleep?

Yuma: No, it’s fine. Same goes for you, are y’ feelin’ cold?

Yui: No, since you gave me a blanket, I’m fine.

Yuma: Noo, that one piece of close won’t work.

Yui: Not really, it’s fi一!

*Hugs her*

Yuma: Stop talking and cling onto me more.

Yui: ...Yes

Yuma: ...kuku, if you think about it deeply, this situation quite looks like a dream.

Yui: About what?

Yuma: Ya’ know...the atmosphere that everyone’s restless, I don’t hate it.

Perhaps it’s been so since I was a lil’ kid.

Yui: Eh? When you were a kid…?

Yuma: In the past...every single day I had to plow the field and that wasn’t fun at all.

The thing I remembered that sloppy circus used to come in the spring festival during the snow thaw time. 

To a brat liked me, it was very interesting show...and I used to watch that like a stupid.

Yui: That’s how it was…

Yuma: It was like a provincial town, so I wouldn’t stay all the time there.

End of the day, that group used to leave, continuing to wave their backs.

“Don’t leave, do it more and more...continue creating this dreamy world…” I wished.

Those circuses always used to come in my dreams...Without even having any realization, I forgot ‘bout them.

For this, when I am in this parade with you, I am having a restless and a strange mood.

Yui: I see, thank you.

Yuma: Haa? Why give me thanks?

Yui: Because you shared an event about your childhood...it’s something to be happy about.

*Yuma blushed*

Yuma: Ha? That...not really, it wasn’t like that.

Yui: Nope, thank you for sharing that.

Yuma: Jeez...well, it’s fine. It’s your turn to share some of your past.

Yui: Yes...I want to share a lot.

Yuma: Kuku, is that so.

Yui, no matter what this place’s, if I am with you then一

Earl Walter: Hahahaha!! Conversations between lovers in one kind of beauty in a parade.

Yui: Kh!!

Yuma: Finally show up!!

Earl Walter: It’s useless if you just stand and watch. This elegant giant cheeze-cake will belong to me!!

Yuma: Wait ‘re!!

*Yuma runs off*

Yui: Yuma kun!?

Look here!! Don’t ya dare to think that you’ll fight the same thing as before!!

Yui: (He is holding a...mop?)

Earl Walter: Kh...don’t tell me this cake…

Yuma: yeah, I’ll make it into a brutal state in no time!

Yui: You...can’t!

Yuma: Shut up! Don’t split out anything!

Yui: ….!

Yuma: Oi, I’ll make you hear me! Give her heart back!

Earl Walter: Haah...that means you want to trade between the heart and the cake?

Yuma: The truth’s that i don’t wanna handle any of those! But...I am sure the guys of the shop will be convinced if I talk to them!

Yui: Yuma kun, but…!

Earl Walter: Pftt...Hahahah!!

Yuma: What’s so funny!!

Earl Walter: I’m apologizing for being soaked in this sentiment, however, there’s no way trade with that heart and just this cake.

Yui: Umm...then, what can we do so you can trade?

Earl Walter: In this area, a valuable thing is…

What about trading with this boy?

Yui: (Eh...?)

Yuma: Ha? Kh...me?

Earl Walter: Someone’s precious person, it has corresponding value right?

To you, he is precious, right?

Yui: …….

(What should I do...if I agree, then Yuma kun will...)

Yuma: Haa...if I go, then she will survive, right?

Yui: Kh...no!

Yuma: But, I’m not valuable at all. Are you targeting correctly?

Earl Walter: Aah, ofcourse. Human plus vampire...very interesting.

Since I haven’t gotten anything like this before...that’s it. I’ll decorate him like a stuffed animal.

Yui: Kh! That’s absolutely NO…!

Earl Walter: Then, will you give up on trading?

Yui: Then fine! I can’t hand over Yuma kun!

Earl Walter: Then, let’s break this conversation here.

Yui: …...Yes.

(It’s good...now)

Yuma: Wait...I get it. I’ll go with you.

Yui: Eh!?

Yuma: ...I can’t give up just for this.

*Yuma knocks out Yui*

Yui: Uuh….!

*Yui falls*

*Screen black*

Yuma: I’m sorry...Yui.

???: O~i! Are you okay!?

Yui: nh...I…

Clown D: What a relief, I was worried.

Yui: Ah...Where is...Yuma kun!?

(Not here...it means he went with Earl)

Clown D: When I rushed into here, I didn’t see him.

Yui: I see….

Clown D: Yes, I don’t know where did big bro go leaving you behind~

Yui: (He told that he will decorate with Yuma...it’s very awful)

(It can’t be…!)

I have to go there. Clown san, where’s the castle of Earl Walter?

Clown D: Bernstein castle? It’s that direction.

Yui: That way...I get it, thank you so much!

Clown D: No not at all~ By the way, *sniffs*...neh, I smell something good.

Yui: Eh?

Vampire Woman A: What is the smell? It’s so delicious…

Vampire Man E:  Aah, I can smell too...hey, is this woman, a human?

Yui: Kh!?

(Smells good, does it mean me?)

(Oh...I get back my heart, by trading with Yuma)

Vampire Woman D: You, it smells so good...can I have a little?

Vampire Man B: No, I’ll be first. Come one, gimme your blood!!

Yui: Kyaa!!

(I gotta run…!)

*Runs off*

Place:ベルンシュタイン城  城門前 / Bernstein Castle  front of castle gate

Yui: Haah...haah…!

(This is bernstein castle…)

*knock*

Yui: Excuse me! Please open the gate!

Give back Yuma kun!!

(I gotta get their attention quickly or…!)

*Running footsteps*

Vampire Man A:  Here she’s!! That woman!!

Vampire Woman A: Hey, lemme suck first!!

Vampire Man D: Nooo, me first! Hey you, come here!

Yui: Kh...No, don’t touch!!

*Knock*

(Please, open…!)

*Soaring*

Vampire Man C: Hm? Something’s flying? A giant bat…

Vampire Woman C: Hey, come here, won’t you!?

*Eagle’s flying*

Yui: (That’s...the egg we wanted to get in the mine, the giant mom eagle?)

Vampire Man A: Kh, this woman is a wild-...wild-animal-tamer!? Run!!

Vampire Woman D: Kyaa-!!

Yui: Why….

I wanted to do a terrible thing with you...but you helped me?

Thank you...kyaa!

(It’s rubbing my back...does she want me to ride?)

Vampire Man B: First of all, we have to deal with that eagle!

Vampire Woman D: Beat that at first!

Yui: Kh...please, fly away!!

(Let’s cling onto her...I’m sure it’s gonna be fine….!)

*Flies*

Yui: (Kh...I could be thrown off)

Vampire Man E: Oi, you can’t escape! Shoot it and make her fall!!

Yui: Fly higher…!

Place : Sky

Yui: ( Wow...she has reached higher in to time)

(It’s fine if she left me inside the castle)

(I don’t know she’ll understand my language, but let’s request)

Would you mind if I get off in that castle?

There’s a person there whom I can’t lose...please!

*Flying to that direction*

Yui: Kyaa!

(Diving down...I'll collide…!)

Place: ベルンシュタイン城  バルコニー / Bernstein Castle Balcony

Yui: (...Huh? It doesn’t hurt?)

Waah, wait, I’ll get off.

*Gets off*

Thank you for helping...you can now go back to your eggs.

(Maybe that cake has already hatched out? It was good that I gave back the egg couragely)

(He forcefully stole my heart but now he simply exchanged it, how weird. So, I can’t give up at all.)

(So two of us can escape together...for now, I have to search him first.)

Place: ベルンシュタイン城 宝物庫 / Treasure Room of Bernstein Castle 

Yui: (Waah...wonderful, all of these are Earl’s collection?)

(Glittering stuffs and also slightly creepy things...there are so many)

(I’m sure each of the owners of these treasures cherished a lot….I can’t forgive him.)

*Foot steps*

Yui: Kh…!

(Looks like someone’s here...I have to hide!)

???: Who’s there?

Yui: (Eh...this voice)

Yuma...Kun?

Yuma: Yui…?

Yui: Yuma kun!

Yuma: Why are y’ ‘re? That’s even alone...it’s dangerous!

Yui: Giant mom eagle protected me all the way and brought me here.

Yuma kun, why’d you go all by yourself? It’s awful!

I couldn’t help it...even if I helped all the way, I won’t be satisfied at all.

Yuma: Haah...Not really, I just paid back everything you did, that was all.

I told you that if you cut out your own purposes and think only ‘bout others, it’s comeout like this!

Yui: Kh…

Yuma: Of course, I didn’t do it just with a single inference.

My real intention was to help you, no matter what happens to me.

I really don’t care about the strangers but if it’s you then I can’t lose.

If it means to help you then I’ll overwhelmingly put myself into a fire...even though you’ll be sad.

Yui: (I can’t say anything back...he was always holding sorrowful feelings for me)

(Despite of then, I... was just acting on my own)

Yuma: Did you understand the feelings of the guys you left behind?

Yui: Kh…

Yuma: I’m asking if you understand their feelings when they were chasing after the person who was risky flying!?

*Yui cries*

Yuma: ….Now, crying out will be a foul game.

Yui: Because….uuh…

Yuma: If you’ve learned by this experience, don’t you ever throw out your life away, got it?

Yui: ….Yes...uuuh….

Yuma: Aah, you’re making an ugly face. Don’t just stand, c’mere.

Yui: Eeh…?

Yuma: You come to steal me from Earl, no? ...Kukuh, what ‘bout catching me then?

*Yui blushed and then laughs*

Yui: ...Yuma kun!

*Runs off*

*Fades to CG*

Yui: I’m sorry…

Yuma: I’m tired of hearing your “Gomennasai” Say something different.

For example “As a punishment for acting on my own, I’ll let you suck blood as much as you can” etc.

Yui: Yes...I’ll let you, no matter what’s the amount.

Yuma: heeh? You say it after all.

Yui: Because I got my heart back, and sure my blood will taste ー

Yuma: Haah...Stoppu! I told you that I don’t care ‘bout the taste. Don’t go against it.

Yui: But...you were the 1st one to say that “I want to suck your blood”

Yuma: Oh, well...I didn’t say for it’s yummy taste...I want it, because it’s your blood.

Don’t misunderstand.

Yui: Yes…!

Yuma: Kukuh...you’re finally making such a happy face just ‘cuz I’ll drink your blood. You can’t escape from these fangs anymore.

Yui: ...I don’t want the fangs, what I want is just to stay by your side.

Yuma: Haah? You also said it before…

Yui: It’s something to give back.

Fufu

Yuma: Well, I’ll forgive today.

Yui...let’s stay together forever.

Yui: (These gentle eyes...put me at ease)

(Stay with me all the time, Yuma kun)

*CG Fades*

*Claps, Claps*

Yuma: You dumbass!

Yui: Earl Walter!?

Earl Walter: Hahahah, you did really wonderful.

Yuma: Haa? What are ya’ saying?

Earl Walter: I thought you guys will be the perfect to possess the treasure.but...I didn’t think you’d do that far.

Yui: What do you mean?

Earl Walter: Sometimes it’s charm confuses humans and leads to misery.

...Vampires are deceived and end up going to a wrong path, the same goes with your heart.

So you and your partner are the appropriate owners of this heart. I was the judge.

But, it was needless to be worried. If your mutual bond continues like this, it’ll be fine.

Yuma: Tch...Without even yer words, it’s obvious to be fine!!

I mean, it’s still fishy. You make everyone unhappy for that cake.

Yui: (Certainly...everyone was having a smiling face…)

Earl Walter: Aah, I ate that cake as much as I could.

Yuma: Haaah!?

Earl Walter: I lost my interest in the cake so I returned it back to the forum. As I thought, a suitable amount is important. 

Yui: (So that was his purpose….I’m somehow disappointed.)

Yuma: I get it but not get it. When I speak with bastards like you, I wanna hit so bad. Anyway...see ya.

Yui: But, how can we get back…

Yuma: We’ll fly from the balcony...I want to have you in my arms for a while.

Ya’ can’t get separated.

Yui: ...Yes!

-> Continue

一 The end of Chapter O 4

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

Tangled Webs - Chapter Three (Peter Parker x Reader)

Dark Webs Masterlist | Tangled Webs Masterlist

Warnings:   Angst, language, Smut (smut in this chapter!), Topics of death and depression, PTSD, more angst, violence, a bit more fluff and smut than the last series? Somewhat ignoring the MCU timeline due to mature content

Word Count: 5520

Summary: When the truth begins to unfold about whats happening to you, you decide to turn to Peter for help

A/N: Cleaning up my taglist so if you haven’t put your name on the form please do so. I can’t wait to hear your feed back on this chapter! I know with everything going on right now, we can use more distractions so I really hope this helps. FEEDBACK PLZZZ (Also I found this .gif on google, so if you made it, or know who did, let me know and I will credit!) Thank you xx -N

“Every time I look at that picture of my brother, I really just want to use again so badly,” one of Peter’s grief members confessed as he stared down into his coffee cup, “Been clean for two years but his death has been something I don’t think I can get through,” he admitted as he looked up to Peter for advice.

   Peter nodded his head solemnly, relating to each and every story he heard, as he always did. Coming to these meetings was always hard and Peter knew how hard it was to talk about your own story. Listening was the easy part; just nod your head and ask questions, try his best to offer advice and talk things out until hopefully the feeling of wanting to use again would disintegrate.

   It was the telling that was always hard. Sharing what was happening, admitting there was a problem. Releasing the anger that made everything inside convince you that the only escape or solution was at the bottom of a bottle. Accepting the reality of the situation by admitting there was only one person responsible for those actions. That was the hardest part of all.

  And Peter still struggled with it. Every time when it was his turn to talk, he’d stumbled over his words; sometimes afraid to fully admit the truth. If he had a bad day, he would talk more, hoping that if he kept talking that unnerving feeling would suddenly vanish.

  He’d talk about the things that made him happy instead. The things that pushed him forward and made him realize the value of his life. Most of those things had to do with you; the way you made Peter feel and how lucky and grateful he was that you were so supportive of him. How every time he felt like he was going to lose his mind, you’d pull him back up in the simplest of ways; always making him see there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

   “My dad has been coming up a lot again ever since I went back to work and it’s been making a lot of old feelings resurface that I wasn’t ready for. And like you, I wasn’t sure if I could push through that pain,” Peter responded as he looked at him knowingly, “But we came here today. And we’re here for each other to get through that. And we have to remind ourselves that tomorrow is a new day, you know?” Peter answered as best as he could. Giving simple advice was usually the best way to go.

He absolutely hated when others would preach certain ideas or beliefs and shove them down Peter’s throat. He knew what did and didn’t work for him and he just hoped those things might help somebody else in the process.

Peter thanked everyone for coming and ended the meeting, shaking everyone’s hand and telling all the participants how proud he was of them and he listened to how proud they were of him. He headed over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before he headed back home for the day.

“Hey,” one of Peter’s confidants came up to him by the coffee machine, “Still no Y/N?” they asked casually as they grabbed a cup from the table to make them self a cup.

Shaking his head no, Peter let out a shrug, “I don’t want to force it too much. But she’s been pulling back a lot lately. I don’t know, I feel like I’m only making matters worse for her. It’s been a bit like walking on eggshells lately but I’m sure it will pass,” Peter admitted as he blew on his coffee.

He hated that he was telling somebody else his problems instead of confronting you. It wasn’t fair to you and he knew it. But he had nobody to turn to anymore. You were suffering and you weren’t telling him what was bothering you.

And even though Peter assumed it had a lot to do with you and Harry, he needed you to be the one to say that first. But in the meantime, all it had been doing was causing an enormous elephant in the room with you hiding things. And he was now at a standstill, unsure of where to turn.

“She uh...came home drunk the other night,” Peter revealed as he looked down vacantly at the black liquid in his cup, “We haven’t really spoken much since,” he cringed at the thought. Peter couldn’t stand not speaking to you, especially when you needed him.

“I know you probably don’t want to do this. But when this happened to me, I had to take a break. Take some time for myself and let them come to their own terms in their own time to cut off the toxicity in my life to grow. I know it isn’t ideal but-”

“Thanks,” Peter answered back curtly, cutting them off as he felt his nerves bundling up again. He couldn’t imagine his life right now without you in it. A break? It sounded absolutely absurd and not to mention, unnecessary. You needed time, yes. But you didn’t need to be isolated. That would be the last thing you needed.

Peter’s mental health was important, yes. And he’d come such a long way from then to now. If something or someone were that bad for Peter and he thought he would use again, he would do what he had to in order to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Especially since the city needed him to be on top of things, it was another reason for him to keep going.

But you weren’t toxic to his life, not even in the slightest. And just hearing somebody say that to him, who didn’t even know you, only made him more annoyed. You were sick and all he wanted you to do was just reach that point of acknowledgement sooner rather than later. Unlike Peter, who didn’t do something until much, much later.

Peter would never want that for you. You just needed time, which is why he was so goddamn persistent about it. But he didn’t care. If that’s what it would take, then so be it. He cared way too much about you to let anything else bad happen to you. He’d take the hit first with no hesitation before it even went to you.

--------

You stood still in the machine, waiting for the scan to complete as the lights swirled and swiveled around your head. Your head felt like it weighed a million pounds and the feeling that you got hit by a  truck wasn’t going away. This wasn’t a hangover, you knew this had something to do with the other day.

Deciding to figure it out on your own before calling Dr. Octavious, you started your morning by doing a full body and brain scan of yourself up in the lab while Peter was out for counseling. Of course, if you had told him what you were doing, this would have been a lot easier since Peter had EDITH and KAREN; but you didn’t want him to freak out about what you had done. And Peter would freak out.

You robbed someone and someone got stabbed because of you. If you hadn’t been there, none of that would have happened. It felt like you weren’t in control of yourself anymore. And whatever was going on, was only getting stronger.

The only good thing so far was that you hadn’t heard any voices, or experienced any paralysis like you had since that night. But you couldn’t take any chances with this. You had a gut feeling they would be back at some point, whatever they were. You wanted to be ready when they did and perhaps create a countermeasure for it and prepare yourself properly when it did happen.

Stepping out of the machine once the scan concluded, you practically ran for the computer to check on the results. Waiting anxiously for them to finish calculating and uploading, you glanced to the other side of the lab where your stash  of bottles were hidden away along with your mask and the pile of cash you had stolen.

“Don’t,” you told yourself through your teeth. Remember Peter’s face, you reminded yourself as you stared at the hiding spot. Remember what had happened to him. Distract yourself while you wait, you suggested to yourself.

You grabbed your phone and you called Peter like you always would when you needed someone. He was the only one you really trusted being around, your best friend. And even though the two of you really weren’t talking, you knew he would be there for you for anything no matter how upset he was.

But it went to voicemail, making you frown. His phone seemed to be off, so you assumed he was still in his meeting. Waiting for the voicemail to beep, you cleared your throat as you turned your head away from your stash, trying not to look at it.

“Hey, it’s me,” you told Peter into your phone as you felt yourself get quiet. Your voice was so off and you knew Peter was going to worry when he heard this. But you really just needed a distraction, “I just...wanted to say I really miss you. And I am sorry about the other night. I’m…”

You took a breath, feeling yourself get weak as you apologized. Apologized for coming home drunk in his face and hiding everything from him. It was a burden you began to despise more and more each and every day. You couldn’t take much more of it.

“I think it’s just a weird day, so just delete this when you get it. I just really miss you,” you sucked in another breath as your eyes fluttered to the computer screen, noticing the scan had officially been uploaded, “I love you, Peter,” you breathed out before you hung up the phone.

Tapping on the screen, you opened up the brain scan. Examining it carefully, turning it around in every which way. You felt your head already pounding like a migraine beginning but you tried your best to ignore it. Whatever the problem was in this scan.

Your eyes widened when you noticed a small white particle in your brain scan. What the hell was that? It didn’t look like it was meant to be there and it stuck out like a sore thumb. Zooming in on it, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Karen, can you please figure out what this thing is, please?” you finally asked out loud as you slid Peter’s mask over your head. You didn’t really want to because even with the protocols you created to prevent KAREN from sharing your history with her to Peter, you still knew Peter had authority to override anything. It was risky but you couldn’t make heads or tails with this scan.

Karen lit up, the computers moving around rapidly as she searched, “I’m having a hard time accessing the files in the microchip located inside of your brain, Y/N,” she answered.

“Wait, did you say microchip?!” you screeched, your heart beating even faster now. You stared at the computer in front of your eyes as Karen showed you a closer look, “Can you tell me what the chip is used for?” you asked again, getting more and more nervous.

“Ahem. She can’t. But I most certainly can,” another voice came through. A male voice. And it was crystal clear. You couldn’t tell if it was in your head or through KAREN’s system. But there was something about that voice that sounded eerily familiar.

It couldn’t be, you thought to yourself. Beginning to realize how badly you had screwed up. You did this. You trusted someone too much because you were desperate for answers and now you were paying for that in the worst way possible. You only wished that none of it were true.

“What the fuck did you put inside of me?” you finally asked as you tried to compose yourself but you could feel yourself breaking the more you spoke.

“Nothing that wasn’t already there. I just helped move it along a bit more,” Doctor Octavious replied in a menacing tone that sent shivers down your spine, “The others didn’t have what you had. You can go farther than any of them,” he continued, which didn’t make you feel any less at ease.

You swallowed harshly, the lump in your throat only getting bigger and bigger as you felt your body tense up. This couldn’t be happening. How could you have done something so stupid? So careless? You didn’t even know what was going on but you could already tell just how severe it was going to be.

“What. The. Fuck. Did. You. Do?!” you asked again through your teeth. Feeling the anger and stress build up more and more, only you weren’t blacking out like you were used to. Everything felt different right now and you were completely lost.

You heard Doctor Octavious laugh and it only made your stomach continue to churn hearing he was actually laughing at your misery, “Consider it an implant with some oversight from our lab. Making sure you do better than the other experiments.”

“So it’s a mind control chip,” you scoffed out a laugh as you shook your head, feeling the tears streaming down your cheeks, “Please just let me go. I can’t even control what I have, I’m no use to whatever you’re thinking I can do,” you pleaded.

The vibrating through your body stopped suddenly as you heard a sound from outside of the room. Opening your eyes, you looked around and noticed that one of the computer monitors were now cracked. No doubt from you and whatever the hell you can call this sixth sense that was only getting worse now.

“Oh, I beg to differ. And we can help you control it and get better, Miss Y/L/N…” Doctor Octavious added with another laugh. He was laughing at you. And now you realized what you needed to do.

You already hid this for too long. Bottling it up, lying about it, trying to make excuses for it when it was only getting worse. You went to go see Doctor Octavious to help but now you really were in way over your head. And doing this on your own was only getting you into more trouble. Not to mention, you hated going through all of this by yourself.

“KAREN, call Peter,” you whispered through your tears as you looked over in the corner where your stash from the other night was hidden. Running over to it as quickly as you could, you threw the cabinets wide open as the phone began to dial with KAREN’s confirmation.

The phone rang once more before it abruptly disconnected and you froze in place. Of course, not by choice. You were right in front of your stash, your confession to Peter, and now you couldn’t move again, which was only making you more upset and beginning to cry harder. You were officially in hell.

“Please…” you cried out through your mask as you whimpered. You stared at the cash, the gun, and everything else you had stowed away inside of there. Wanting to come clean so badly but knowing you couldn’t.

“If you tell him. I will have you kill him. I refuse to have you fuck this up for me, girl,” he demanded of you as you began to feel your heart beating in your throat, “I’ll summon you when I need you next in a week. Until then, enjoy the silence as a thank you in advance,” he said.

And then you could move again. And the echo was all gone.

Collapsing to the floor, you let out a loud scream as you removed Peter’s mask from your head. All of your worst nightmares coming true. Not being in control of yourself, hurting Peter while the whole reason you went to Doctor Octavious in the first place was so you wouldn’t, commiting crimes, everything just too horrible to be true.

“KAREN, wipe memory of that phone call and everything from the last hour,” you said to the AI through your tears as you put everything back where you found it, shutting down the computers and scans. Peter couldn’t find any of this out.

You closed the cabinets and locked them again. If what he said was true, and he would make you kill Peter, then you had to do whatever you possibly could within your own will to keep him safe. You had to protect him in whatever way he would. And when Doctor Octavious came back as he said, you had to be ready.

--------

  The rest of the day you stayed in the apartment, doing your best not to interact with too many people. You waited impatiently for Peter to come back, even though you weren’t speaking at the moment, you needed him by your side right now; even though you really couldn’t explain to him what was happening right now. You were hoping that he would eventually forgive you for that if it meant you were keeping him safe.

  Luckily, Morgan came upstairs to visit after school with a stack of homework. Helping and spending time with her was the best distraction to keep you from freaking out and going off the deep end. And you were more than happy to be sitting with her at the kitchen table to keep busy.

   “There’s no way you were given this as homework, Morg,” you looked at the sheet and how complicated it was for a six year old to complete, “This is a fifth grade level math. Did your teacher give you this?” you asked her curiously as you handed her back the sheet.

   Morgan shrugged as she picked her pencil up, “I may have offered a few older kids my service if they buy me french fries for lunch for the week,” she answered as she answered the first equation on the sheet. Correctly, at that.

   It was nice having Morgan around for the afternoon. You were actually beginning to feel normal again. Coming down from the shock you had earlier and trying to push it aside for right now. It was the distraction you wanted, even though you knew you really shouldn’t have one right now, you didn’t care.

   “Your service? Meaning you’re doing their homework in exchange for french fries?” you asked for clarification, trying your best not to laugh. But the truth was, you needed that little laugh right now. And you were glad it was Morgan making you feel better. Like an actual human being with no problems to deal with.

   Focusing on the math equation, Morgan nodded her head, “I think I can turn a profit if I make it until May,” she told you, knowing perfectly well exactly how smart she was. She was her father’s daughter, after all.

    “Well then if you do, I’m requesting 10% equity for your company since you’re using my table as your office space,” you teased as you smiled at her, watching her solve the next problem. She didn’t even need your help.

   “Four percent,” Morgan countered as she put her pencil down to give you a proud grin, “But only you get four percent, not Peter. Otherwise it’s 8% and I don’t trust him with my company,” she told you sternly.

  You laughed harder as you extended your hand out to her, “Deal. But first, make sure your own homework is done, please,” you told her as she shook your hand firmly before both of your heads turned as you heard the door beginning to open.

   Morgan pulled her hand away and brought her index finger up to her lips, shushing you to keep your secret as you placed your palm in front of your chest, promising her silently that you would as Peter came in with a bag filled of groceries. He smiled a bit when he saw you at the table with Morgan while he trotted his way inside.

   Peter’s eyes fixed on you as he greeted the both of you with a warm smile. But you could tell he was looking at you because he heard your voicemail and you most likely panicked him. Especially since you turned your phone off after the incident in the lab, probably worrying Peter further when he assumably attempted to call you back to see if you were alright.

  “Long time no see, Morg,” Peter said to her cheerfully, trying to keep his voice level. He didn’t want to worry her but Peter really needed to check on you and see what was going on. The silence between the two of you over the last few days was deafening and now he really needed to break it.

   “Not long enough,” Morgan rolled her eyes as she answered Peter in her snarky little tone that always made him laugh. Only he really couldn’t laugh right now because he was only concerned about you, “We’re busy,” she sang at Peter, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

   Peter laughed to himself a bit as he stuck some of the groceries in the refrigerator, “Hey, Morgan? I need to talk to Y/N about something right now. But if you come back later, I will tell you what the password is to Happy’s snack cabinet where he keeps the good candy under lock and key,” he offered her with a playful smile.

   Morgan gave Peter and you a look before she collected her things and slid them into her folder, “Bribing a six year old with snacks, real nice,” she told Peter, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony as you waved goodbye to her.

   “Enjoy your grown up couple crap!” Morgan called out from the door as she grabbed the doorknob and started to pull it closed behind her.

   “Don’t say crap!” Peter called out to her but the door was already closed, leaving the two of you alone, not sure of what to say to the other.

    You knew you had to say something as you stood up and followed him into the kitchen. Trying to force a smile, but you couldn’t pretend with Peter. Especially when he knew perfectly well that something was going on with you based off of your phone call.

   Sucking in a breath, you met Peter’s gaze as you stood against the counter, “I-I’m sorry about the voicemail I left you. I didn’t mean to freak you out or worry you,” you finally said as you felt your chin beginning to quiver.

   “I already am plenty worried, Y/N,” Peter told you as he rested his hand against your hip to try and steady you, “I miss you,” he admitted, knowing how horrible it had been the last few days not speaking to you. Especially when he needed to every day since.

  “I missed you too,” you told him as you wrapped your arms around him. Taking in his scent as if he had been gone for months. You felt yourself beginning to tear up, whimpering against his chest, “I f-fucked up, Peter. I’m sorry. I'll-stop drinking, okay?” you apologized for the other night, coming home drunk, amongst other things. But you were genuinely sorry for doing that to him, he certainly didn’t deserve it.

  And with everything going on, you really didn’t intend on drinking like that again. You knew you needed a fresh mindset and that didn’t involve your clouded judgment from the other night. Not to mention, surrounding Peter with something extremely triggering for him. It wouldn’t be good for either one of you.

   Peter shushed you as he brought his lips to the top of your head. Not wanting to say anything because he wanted you to get it all out. Release everything that built up inside of you as he held you in his arms, wanting you to so badly find your way to the surface as quickly as you possibly could.

  “I let you down and I’m sorry,” you cried out against his chest as you pulled away, wiping your tears in hopes that he couldn’t see but you knew that he could. You were always so open with Peter, even when you didn’t want to be.

   “I’m just worried, that's all. I’m sorry for shouting like that the other day. I-I just...” he trailed off thinking about it. Thinking about what he went through and seeing you go down a similar path. How he tried seeking some advice from earlier and hated the answer he got because he didn’t want to do that at all.

   You cupped Peter’s face as you pulled him closer, “Am I going to be okay?” you asked him as you rested your head up against his, your lips both inches apart from each other as your eyes closed. Finally feeling a sense of calm knowing you had Peter again.

  “You’re going to be more than okay. I know it,” Peter told you without skipping a beat. And he meant that. You were trying, he could see that. And maybe you weren’t ready to go to grief therapy like Peter, everyone worked in different ways. But you were taking small strides. And for that, Peter was glad.

   “I love you, Peter Parker,” you told him as you swept your lips gently against his bottom lip. Capturing a small and gentle kiss, your first kiss in days in what had felt like an eternity without them, reminding you both how much you missed the other.

   Peter’s lips began to trace yours slowly in return as he lifted you effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I love more than anything, Y/N,” he whispered against your lips as he carried you into the bedroom.

    Laying you onto the bed, your neediness for each other grew and grew as Peter discarded your t-shirt and jeans along with his, tossing them towards the wall. Cussing underneath his breath when he saw you in your lace bra with the necklace he gave to you underneath.

  His fingers went to the necklace as he hovered over you, pressing small, soft kisses to your chest, “I never want to lose you again,” he muttered against your skin as he laced his free hand into yours. Beginning to think about the time last year when he had lost you and how empty he felt inside without that missing piece.

    “And you never will,” you reassured him as you arched your back while Peter pushed himself into you. Letting out a whimper against his lips as he began to roll his hips slowly against yours as the two of you began to find your rhythm.

   Locking your fingers together, Peter rutted his hips faster into you, whispering your name softly as your leg wrapped around his hip to pull him closer. You both craved each other so badly and even though you both knew you still had so much to talk about, this was all that mattered right now.

    Peter’s lips found yours again as the hairs began to stick up on the back of his neck as his senses heightened with every touch. Moaning into another kiss, your tongues wildly began searching for each other’s. His hands running down to your breast, kneading you gently as he heard your soft moans wanting more from him.

Using all of your force, which wasn’t much at all since you were getting stronger these days, you rolled Peter onto his back, letting out a giggle as you did so, “I want to make you feel better too,” you whispered as your lips went to his neck, sucking a small bruise against his skin.

“Jesus, I’ll say,” Peter chuckled as his hands flooded down to your waist to guide you, “Nearly knocked the wind out of me there,” he laughed into another kiss as he pulled you down on top of him. The two of you laughing and being playful with each other was a simple reminder to the both of you of how much you both still loved the other and that feeling wasn’t ever going away no matter what was going on.

Your hand splayed against Peter’s bare stomach as you motioned your hips deeper into his. Letting out a soft moan as you felt him push himself deeper into you and his fingers beginning to circle you slowly while your eyes began fluttering opened and closed. The combination of his touch and your senses going as wild as his making it all the more incredible for you as you threw your head back with a loud moan, moving your hips faster for him. You knew everything always felt good with Peter, but this time was...different.

It was even better.

  Peter bit his lip as he circled you faster, “Ungh...k-keep going like that, Y/N,” he cried out to you as he was trying to make you feel just as good as you were for him.

   Pressing your palm into his stomach, you began to ride Peter faster. Feeling the coil in your stomach building up as you continued, Peter’s eyes kept watching you. Beginning to let all of your concerns from earlier go. The past was in the past and your present and future was Peter. That was all that mattered.

   What once was tension from the last few days, now was turning into lust and love building up between the two of you as Peter arched his hips higher towards you. Your desperate gasps whimpering his name and breathy, ‘I love yous’ were beginning to send him over his edge as he continued to rub harsh circles against you.

  Digging your nails into Peter’s sides, you bit your bottom lip as you began to unravel. Peter held onto your hips with his spider-like grip as he began to follow your lead. The two of you coming undone together as you collapsed into his chest, muffling your moans against him as you cried out one another’s name in ecstasy. The sensitivity from both of your capabilities magnifying it even more now than it ever did for you. Maybe it was because you were becoming more in control of it, but this was one of the few beneficial things of what was going on with you.

  Peter took a few breaths as he came down from his high with you, smiling to himself as he picked your face up to look at you. Cupping your face lightly, he frowned at you when he saw there were tears in your eyes.

   “What’s wrong? Please don’t do that because you know I’ll start crying too,” Peter smiled, trying to make light of it in hopes that he would make you laugh. Which only made him smile bigger when you let out a tiny giggle, rolling your teary eye at him, “That’s my girl,” Peter told you as he wiped a tear away.

  “I just really missed you,” you told him as you smiled at him, resting your chin against his chest, “Missed this with you...” you mumbled as your finger began to trace circles against his bare stomach.

  Pressing his lips together, Peter nodded his head, “It’s never a good day for me when I can’t speak to you,” he admitted as he felt his nerves coming back the moment he told you that. He hated not speaking to you and he hated admitting his stubbornness was one of the reasons why he didn’t.

   His hands went back to your necklace as his thumb brushed over the spiderweb charm in the center of it. The fact that you wore it every day meant so much to him, “We’ll start fresh tomorrow, right?” he asked you.

   “I’d like that a lot,” you agreed as you rolled off of Peter and nestled yourself against him.

That hope for a fresh start sparked a sense of calm within you. A feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time ever since you developed these powers. You almost felt a pang of pain in your chest thinking about how this must have really been for Peter when it all happened for him.

But that serene feeling was beginning to become overshadowed by that prickling fear and anticipation of Doctor Octavious returning. And what that return would bring for you and Peter…

@captainemrys @geniousparker @fallingforfics @coni-martina @osterfield-holland-andcompany @mikalaka @beiroviski @missmulti @lonikje,     @hazmyheart @averyfosterthoughts @detroitbydark @astoldbydanid @dee-rosemary @wherewecomealive @ninjalex1d @jillanaholland @mcuassemble @mannien @unicorn-princess-1999 @blahhhhhhhaaa @lauras-collection@ruefulposts @lilostif16 @thwip-it-real-good @parker-holland-osterfield @lightmelikeacigarette @when-marvellous-things-happen @farfromhaz @rebekkah4766 @kayla-m1996, @underoosmarvel @shirukitsune   @mktravelbuggie @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @desir-ae @asmilinghopelessromantic @itsjusttor, @hollandfanficlove @msmarvel-19 @thevelvetseries @whatdafricklefrackle @missleahlin @000nova000 @sarahkatexoxo @adayasgeorgia @belleknows @itjustkindahappenedreally   @spidermanffh3000   @pluckypete @whatareyouhidingpeter  @baby-unidorn @bitteral @tnu-ree @heavenspidey @imsuperawkward  @spideyyeet @morbiddanvers @tomhollandseverything  @the-crazy-fanfictionist @lulueliott24  @fangirlingisajob @imfreefallinall @stilessarcasmqueen @parkeret @quacksonhq  @the-professional-procastinator @tomhollandthing @madon566 @tom-holland-is-spiderman @peruvian-bae @molkel @giuls-394 @theolwebshooter  @tori719 @quackson-love  @rebekkah4766 @whiskeywinter89 @gathania93 @peterspideysense  @skymoonandstardust  @hoforhaz @spideylovin @greenarrowhead @holland-aisesauce @imagine-lovebug @thenerdiverse @hollandergirl @tom-hollands-blog @paaaam97 @ifntelyinspirit @thinkoutsidethebex @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @tomholland-mcu @u-rrose @hihiweezing @hollands-osterfield @violet-lilyy @phluffyphantom @spider-manholland @clarissahunter @dorbiksbitch @marvelbarbie @sophietsbastard @carol-danvers-wife @bellanotte24 @estate-euphoric @lulueliott24 @asonofpeter @sltwins @worldoftom @roosterteethgirl @harrysbbby  @rororo06 @thewinchesterchronicles @aussie-holland @minetticatinwonderland , @spideyyypeter, @oswald-1998, @danicarosaline @wonders-of-the-multiverse @xapham @cxxl-gall @lowkey-holland @zabdisamor @lookalivefrosty @emmmmszy @babebenhardy @sondheim-stephen @angelicshinigami @ddaeing @demonsintheair @fangirl-trash-things @spideylovin @darktwistydiamond @th0ttie4tommy​ @just4muggles​ @good-vibes-and-glitter​ @muade-mua-de

[onwesterlywinds]

Raised Glasses

Content warning for brief allusions to physical and emotional abuse.

Early one evening, well before the sun had set over the city above, Ashe was struck with an urge to go deep into the limestone quarry. She entered from a hidden archway along the city's outermost walls and walked down for nearly a bell until she found the place she sought: past Aster's open sigil-gate, past a thin tunnel where the underground wind blew like whispers, into a winding crevasse along which someone had posted standing torches. That otherwise featureless path led her on and on, until at last the walls widened outward and the ceiling rose up for yalms above her and she stood in a vast subterranean chamber: an abandoned workers’ station.

Dozens of others had already gathered, bringing with their work a flurry of motion and purpose, and others still entered in behind her. Little by little they assembled an entire market - the market, the Undercity's traveling venue for wares of all kinds. Ashe watched the procession of vendors and buyers from a distance as the hall slowly filled with color and noise and activity to rival the city above. As more of the Undercity began to trickle in, merchants and musicians and ruffians and a great many others, she contented herself with wandering about, intent on nothing except sating the fateful urge that had driven all of them there to begin with. Soon each booth and stall sat attended, except for one: a chest-high bar carved directly out of the limestone wall, with a fully stocked shelf behind it but no one present to make or serve drinks.

Ashe made her way around the market three times before taking up a shift.

The only woman seated at the bar raised an eyebrow at her coming but hailed her all the same. "Grand Steward."

"You can call me Ashelia," she said. "What's your name?"

"Jas." She was a warrior of some sort, with a full bandolier of weapons draped across each shoulder. "I'll take whatever's in the barrel at your right."

Ashe lowered a glass to the tap, and it filled with a dark, heady beer. She passed it back to Jas and Jas accepted the drink with a nod, and though the woman offered no coin in exchange, Ashe somehow knew their transaction to be fulfilled.

Other orders came in, one by one, as varied as the people asking for them. Rarely did she recognize the drinks: most visitors called for a specific liquor or else a name scrawled on a bottle's label. Before long, she fell into a rhythm of shaking and tapping and pouring and serving, until the line that had stretched out from the bar slowly settled into a small and comfortable crowd, a lethargic gathering to contrast with the market's stream of people.

"Where'd you learn to tend bar, Grand Steward?" asked a broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard.

"At the Sandsea," she said, then added, "The Riskbreakers' headquarters in Thanalan." Even now, she had little idea if her company's deeds were widely known throughout the Undercity. "Back when the XIVth Legion were setting up their castra all over Eorzea, we advertised ourselves as a tavern. It brought in a stream of adventurers, and it let us keep an ear to the ground for any imperial movements."

"Did it work?" piped up a gruff voice.

"It did." She handed off a whiskey drink to the speaker - a woman with one eye, a woman who had passed her in the Ala Mhigan Quarter only a day or so before. The woman saluted her but held on a moment for her to continue the rest of her story. "Precious few knew of us as anything more than a bar for clan hunters until we stormed the Praetorium and took down van Baelsar." Her mention of the erstwhile viceroy's defeat was met with a brief but hearty chorus of victory cries. "Even then, our reputation was so well-hidden that many Eorzeans didn't make the connection that the Riskbreakers of the Sandsea and the Riskbreakers harrying the Garleans were one and the same until much later."

Someone in a hooded robe shook their head, gesturing languidly with a hand already gripping a flask. "Explains how you practiced. Not where you learned."

Ashe rolled her eyes in what she hoped was a good-natured expression but took the correction in stride, tapping another pint of Jas's choice for a Roegadyn soldier who'd appeared at the opposite end of the bar. "Where else but Limsa Lominsa? I started by watching the barkeeps' hands, to make sure they weren't about to snatch up my purse. By the time I became a proper adventurer, getting dragged around to every backwater alehouse in Vylbrand, it was simply a force of habit."

"Who was Ludo?"

The voice was Stella's, tucked away somewhere in the crowd. Sure enough, Ashe espied a flash of white hair, though the girl crouched as if to avoid further detection.

All other chatter slowly died, and her chest went tight, even as she reached to pour out a glass of absinthe without being prompted. Something had shifted with the speaking of his name, as if he came to life so very briefly - as if she could make out his thin, pale face among the crowd and the whole of the Undercity knew him as well as she did for everything he had done. She did not dare halt the movements of her hands; as the glass stopper clinked against its decanter, the sound resonated amid the lull in conversation that had settled over their shadowy corner of the market.

"Ludo was my former partner," she replied at last. She could not find Stella again, and so she spoke to the person in the hooded cloak. "He and I created the Riskbreakers together."

"Did he die?" asked another of the children. They spoke the word without fear or sadness, as had many of the other young ones she'd known in the desert.

"Yes," she said, her voice a little firmer. "Ludo died. His ashes are buried far away on the other side of these mountains, in a place called Coerthas."

Somehow, the persisting silence that fell in response was worse than the question that had preceded it. And so she took up another pair of wine glasses, poured a hearty serving of red into each, and found her voice again, with a crowd of watching eyes upon her.

"He was... special, and charming, easy to admire and confide in - though he so rarely shared his emotions, or even his goals." It was such a facile thing to say in the Undercity, a place where hardly anyone spoke their intentions aloud. "But once we opened up to each other, I couldn't imagine being without him. Even when he lied, or kept things from me, or gambled with our safety."

Someone standing at the market's grocery lobbed an object that was brightly colored and vaguely grenade-shaped; her onlookers ducked their heads and she caught the lime effortlessly, unthinkingly, in her palm. She took up a knife at the counter, rolled the flat of its blade across the surface, and dug in deep to squeeze as much juice as she could into a shallow glass before carving up its rind.

"Twenty years," she said, watching the last bits of pulp fall over the ice. "The first person in twenty years whom I'd learned to trust, implicitly. But he coveted power over our life together. Over me. I suppose I'd always known it, deep down - I just hadn't wanted to believe it until the truth was staring me in the face."

She topped off the glass of lime juice with a rum that so perfectly matched the gold his eyes had been, and her chest went tight at the memory of those eyes meeting hers for the last time: her jaw trapped under his crushing grip, as he promised her power enough to fell the Empire.

When she slammed the drink down upon the bar, not a soul moved to claim it.

"Promise me," said Ashe, meeting the gaze of the closest of the children - a little girl in a patchwork dress. "Promise me you won't stay with someone if they hurt you, no matter who they are or how much you love them. Find a friend, go somewhere new, and don't let them get near you again."

The girl nodded, and her crowd of compatriots swiftly followed suit. Only Stella's face scrunched up in a childish display of pensiveness.

Jas cleared her throat, and Ashe gladly took the cue to refill her beer. "Anyway, the lot of you should meet my husband." The relatively offhanded quip earned her more laughs from the crowd than she'd expected. "I mean it. He remembers far more of this place than I do, on account of his being six moons older than me, and the stories he tells aren't half as morose as mine. But don't tell him I told you so; it'll go straight to his head."

The conversation shifted like a welcome breeze, and still the glass of rum remained on the limestone bar while its ice slowly thawed. Only when the crowd dispersed hours later along with the rest of the market did the last remaining patron, a stocky woman with her light hair tied up in a high bun, down it in a single gulp before hastening off.

Once relieved of that final burden, it was enough for Ashe to bask in the afterglow of good conversation and a job well done. She doubted she had any obligation to clean up the bar behind her - and many of the bar's guests had simply taken their glasses with them - but she nonetheless lingered for long enough to stack the used dishes into a single empty washbin and wipe a damp rag across the countertop, just as she would have done were she at home in the Sandsea. Stella hopped up onto the crate where Jas had been sitting and watched Ashe's movements on occasion, though mostly she carried out her own private listening. When Ashe ended her shift, Stella followed her closely out of the limestone quarry.

"I'd appreciate it if you were to warn me the next time you do that in public, you know," said Ashe. "It's rather impolite to air someone's innermost thoughts when they least expect it."

Stella gasped. "S-S-Sorry."

When the girl looked up at her, Ashe cast what she hoped was a reassuring, if teasing, smile; she gave no words of affirmation but tousled Stella's white curls, earning her a little giggle in response. Together they traipsed their way back upward and eastward to the areas under the Noble District, until Ashe came to a fork in the path and found that Stella had already vanished from her side.