Tarzinnia - If You Come To A Fork In The Road; Pick It Up...

I am so happy you're doing better. I think the part I left off regarding patience is that one of the most difficult endeavors is to have patience with ourselves and remembering to do so when we feel low or stressed or anxious.

No worries on the reply, you have a lot going on!!

RE: "Guys I'm so burnt out right now..."

Feel free to ignore this ask as one always always has that option, but may I inquire for some further elaboration along with some thoughts? (per usual, long long long)

Burnt out covers a lot of ground so trying not to get too too personal. Is this feeling specific to a story (i.e. Dulcet, etc), writing in general, certain life (away from Tumblr) events/situations? Each of these has, perhaps, different causes and effects.

In speaking with other writers on Tumblr, one thing I've come to learn is this: do understand that you are not alone--not in feeling this way, not in coping with this feeling, and finally, not in spirit--for the community here, while not face to face, can be as present or likewise, invisible, as you wish us to be. We can provide encouragement, sympathy, tips, and so on, OR (and this is important to remember) we can also wait patiently unseen while you recover whatever it is that nourishes you to be the best person you can be. For that is the heart of it all: you are human. You are unique in that we cannot and never will BE you, but you are also part of the world in that we can share the universal feelings and emotions that all humans have and attempt to understand your perspective.

Going back to the community on this platform, one thing in particular I've noticed is that sometimes creators feel a certain amount of, for lack of a better word or perhaps it is THE word, guilt. Guilt that somehow they're letting others down in some way. I cannot tell someone to stop feeling what they feel. That seems rather rude. However, I can say, that many many readers would much rather the artists on Tumblr feel reassured that most of us (ignore the trolls) understand that content is not manufactured wholecloth by magic, but an extraordinary amount of time, thought, and energy go into these works and it is on top of whatever else the artist has going on in their life.

My late granny used to say (often because I was terrible at it) "Patience is a virtue," and well, she was correct in that. For, as I used to tease her back (very impudent child I was) that "a rolling stone gathers no moss," it wasn't until some years later and thinking about her that I thought about that moss covered stone in the adage. Reach down and run your fingers across that green velvety surface. Feel the softness and think about being so much in a rush that you fail to notice the time it took for that moss to flourish and spread. The rhizoids had to find a rock that was habitable, there had to be enough moisture to sustain life, and it took someone with enough patience they were willing to wait to appreciate its beauty.

So, thinking about all that (and it's a lot), consider the question specific to you but know this: you are more than what it is that you do or don't do and it is enough. It is always enough. Because you are a part of the world and we see you not only as one of us but also as the only one of you.

This is beautiful, and I thank you for taking the time and tiring yourself to write this! I was feeling burnt out because of writing too much, but I think I'm kind of better now, and working on my wips :) I think these words should be posted if someone needs to hear them as well. Thank you again, and I think your granny was indeed a very wise person :)

also, sorry that it took me this long to reply

Thank you for the reblog and comment!

Sometimes we wait until the last possible moment to express what we so desperately want to say. It is visible on the surface no matter how we try and hide it...expressing our love despite our fears helps our spirits become lighter, like bubbles.

Surface Tension

This is for @littlewhispersofsolitude OTP Prompt: Kisses

"Kissing each other as tears well in their eyes because they're not sure if/when they'll see each other again. Wrapping their arms around each other, pulling them closer to feel every bit of them in case it's the last time they get to."

A/N: I hope I credited the prompt properly. Please correct me if I need to change how I did that.

Pairing: Peter Parker x OC or Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Angst maybe?

She was sitting on a small blue blanket near a tree; it wasn't their tree since this was Central Park. Their tree, where they usually shared lunch, was in a park in Queens, much closer to each of their apartments but she had asked to meet him here, near her office. She said she needed to finish this project before she left tomorrow but he knew it was to keep the moment impersonal somehow. Easier.

As if anything was easy.

As if anything was.

As if anything.

As if.

He didn't approach her. Not yet.

She hadn't started searching for him amongst the people dotted here and there like a painting by Seurat. People walking, lounging on the grass, tossing a frisbee.

She was motionless, however, her face turned slightly away. His eyes followed her gaze to a brown-haired young man and a slender woman each holding the hand of a small boy between them, lifting the child up every so often and swinging him, his bare arms taut while his little legs bicycled through the air.

He didn't care to examine the emotion that descended from his throat and twisted somewhere in the vicinity of his heart at the vignette displayed on the grassy lawn. Him watching her watching them. What could be. Whatever there is. Whatever...

As if.

Her raised arm indicated she had spotted him and he strolled over to the tree that wasn't theirs.

"Hi."

"Hi." She was smiling at him but her eyes were not. The word inscrutable came to mind but he didn't normally use fancy words like that.

"I bought sandwiches, I hope that's okay?" She gestured at the paper sack from a deli near her workplace and pulled two water bottles from her ever present tote with I read banned books emblazoned on the side. He gave her that tote last October, when they sat under their tree, its bare arms reaching up. Reaching out. As if.

He didn't want to sit near this tree. He didn't want to sit and catch the scent of her perfume. To sit and watch her delicate fingers brush her hair from her eyes as the breeze blew wisps about her face. To sit and see her wistful smile as she watched him eat. Reaching out with her fingers to brush a crumb off his cheek. As if.

They ate in silence. The words were knotted in the tangles and twists of a timeline that began at their tree and ended at the tree that wasn't theirs. They sat together, watching as the couple with the little boy tossed a kite in the air. Watching as it danced clear of the open arms of nearby trees, reaching for the sky. As if.

Him watching her watching them. Until she caught his eye and cleared her throat, and began to gather their empty wrappers and napkins, sweeping them into the tote. Inscrutable, he thought.

His hand closed around the pink bottle in his pocket and he slowly withdrew his hand, turning away slightly so she couldn't see as he set the bottle on the blanket and twisted off the lid. Two wands. After the very first time at their tree he added the second one just for her.

He turned toward her, drawing a wand out and lifting it to his lips so that the bubbles came around them like a cloud. Floating towards her, floating into open arms reaching towards his, floating towards the sky. As if.

"Peter." Her voice caught on his name. Her arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly while the bubbles floated around them and above them and vanished one by one.

She kissed him as if afraid the memories would vanish like bubbles. She kissed him as if their arms would forever be empty, she kissed him as if it were the easiest thing in the world to love him.

She kissed him as if she would never see him again.

As if.

"I'm coming back, Peter. I love you. You know that. I promise I'm coming back."

He looked at her face, no longer inscrutable; reaching out with love.

As if it were a kite, his heart lifted toward the sky. As if.

END

What’s a stereotypical food from ur culture that u absolutely love.

I was giggling at Peter’s reaction to B.B. like the character ‘Mater teasing Lightning McQueen in the film, Cars: “Peter and B.B. sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-something, something…” and then when she adroitly (innocently?) slips him her number, Peter’s mental “Kachooga, kachooga.” Apologies if you haven’t ever seen that film, but it is adorable, just like this intro was. You have a knack for getting in Peter’s head and I enjoy that. It’s nice to know what he’s thinking. Wonder what Betty is going to think when she sees the two of them together? Will she spot that Peter’s interest extends beyond sugar and spice? Hmmm.

Of Coffee and Cinnamon Rolls - Chapter 1

Pairing: TASM! Peter Parker x F!Reader

Rating: T

Story Summary: Peter's coffee maker has broken, leaving him in need of a caffeine fix. Luckily, there's a new coffee shop right by the Daily Bugle... With a beautiful barista inside.

Warnings/Tags: Meet-Cute, Coffee Shops, Strangers to Friends to Lovers

Word Count: ~1650

A/N: Continuing my reignited thirst for Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker with this super sweet, super fluffy goodness! Enjoy this first chapter and I'll be back with more soon!

That being said, if you want to be added to the tag list for this or any of my other stories/characters I write for, please let me know!

Ugh, what a morning, Peter Parker thought as he hurried down the sidewalk towards the Daily Bugle's building. His ancient second (or more than likely actually third) -hand coffee maker that he had purchased at Goodwill when he had first moved into his apartment had finally given up the ghost that morning and he hadn't had time to try to fix it before needing to leave for work. Mr. Jameson had eventually relented and hired him on as a staff photographer rather than a freelancer after the former staff photographer, Eddie Brock, had quit to go work for the Post, which meant that Peter was expected to attend the 7am staff meetings.

He slowed as he spotted a sidewalk sign up ahead welcoming people inside a brand-new coffee shop. 

Deciding that getting his caffeine fix was more important than potentially being late, Peter adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and headed inside, taking a quick glance around the empty shop.

The woman behind the counter smiled as he approached. "Hi, welcome to Bean There, Done That, what can I getcha?"

Wow, she's beautiful, Peter thought . "Hi, could I get a large black coffee?"

The beautiful barista nodded. "Room for cream or sugar?"

"No, thank you."

"Can I interest you in a cinnamon roll?"

Peter's stomach growled as he eyed the display case of what appeared to be freshly-baked cinnamon rolls. In his haste to clean up the mess his now-broken coffee maker had made he hadn't had time for breakfast. "Uh, yeah, actually, a cinnamon roll sounds great."

"Awesome." The barista tapped at the iPad that was serving as the register. "For here or to go?"

"To go." As much as Peter would've liked to stay and enjoy his breakfast he was already cutting it close.

"Okay, that'll be $6.43. Can I get your name?"

Peter must've looked confused because she pointed to the stack of paper coffee cups and added, "for your coffee order."

"Oh! Peter... My name is Peter."

"Peter," the beautiful barista (or B.B. as Peter was now calling her in his head) repeated, tapping at the iPad again. "Your coffee will be ready at the end of the counter."

Peter paid for his breakfast and moved to the other end of the counter, watching as B.B. set his coffee to brew then moved to the display case. She appeared to be roughly his age, with Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. She wore black pants, a white shirt, and a flour-dusted apron which bore the logo of the shop and showed off her figure.

"Here you go," she said, walking back towards Peter and handing him a small bakery box. "Cinnamon roll for Peter."

"Thank you."

She put a lid on Peter's coffee and slid it over to him. "And here's your coffee."

Peter picked up his coffee and bakery box as the bell above the door chimed, signaling another customer. "Thanks again."

"No problem. Thanks for stopping by, come back again soon."

"Will do."

Peter ran the rest of the way to the Daily Bugle. Luckily Jameson was running late so Peter managed to slip into the conference room with a couple of minutes to spare.

He opened the bakery box and took a bite of the still-warm cinnamon roll. Wow, this is delicious.

He finished it right before Jameson walked into the conference room.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," Jameson barked.  "We need a puff piece to round out Sunday's edition. Whaddya got for me?"

"The library is having a book sale--" one of the junior reporters began.

"Boring, nobody goes to the library. What else?"

"There's a pet adoption event in Central Park--" another one tried.

"We covered the last one. Gimmie something different."

Peter cleared his throat. "There's a new coffee shop down the street that's having a grand opening tomorrow… Bean There, Done That?"

"New coffee shop, huh? Is it any good?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir. I just had a cinnamon roll from there. It was great."

Jameson thought for a moment. "Might get some free baked goods for promoting it. Ok, fine. Brant!"

"Yes, sir," Betty Brant, one of the senior reporters, replied.

"Set up an interview with the owner. Parker, you go too since we need photos of the opening."

Peter grinned. "Yes, sir." Hopefully B.B. will be there.

"Alright, now get out of here. I've got golf with the mayor in an hour and I need to practice my back swing."

Peter headed to his desk to work on editing photos for the online edition of the paper, briefly stopping to eat lunch in the staff break room before getting back to it. As he was packing up to leave for the day Betty stopped by his desk. "Hey, so I stopped by that coffee shop during my lunch break and talked to the owner, and she agreed to an interview but asked if it could be before the shop opens, so I'll see you tomorrow morning around 7:30?" 

Peter nodded. "Sounds good."

"Oh and you were right, the cinnamon rolls are excellent. I can't wait to try some other stuff from there."

"Me either. See you tomorrow, Betty."

He grabbed his backpack and headed down to the lobby.

"Bye, Stan!" he called to the elderly security guard as he exited the building.

As he approached Bean There, Done That he noticed that the chalkboard sign was still outside. Maybe I should stop in and get another coffee and cinnamon roll since it's gonna be a long night. And if B.B. happens to still be there, well, that's just a bonus, isn't it?

B.B. looked up from the tray of cinnamon rolls that she was boxing up as he entered. She smiled. "Hi, back again? It's Peter, right?"

Peter nodded. "Right."

"What can I do for you?"

"Um, actually I was wondering if I could get another coffee and a cinnamon roll."

B.B. nodded. "You're in luck. I'm getting ready to close up so I was boxing up the few I have left."

She moved over to the coffee machine. "Large black coffee, right?"

Peter nodded, impressed that she had remembered his order from that morning. "Right."

"Ok, I'll have that for you in a sec."

Peter waited at the register while B.B. brewed his coffee. "So, uh, first day open?" he asked.

B.B. glanced over at him. "Yeah, sorta. Technically tomorrow's our official opening but I decided to go ahead and open for a couple of hours today."

She popped the lid on and set it in front of him, then grabbed the box of cinnamon rolls, waving off Peter's payment. "Here you go. On the house."

Peter blinked in surprise. "Oh, wow, thanks. Are you sure though? I wouldn't want you to get into trouble with the owner."

B.B. grinned. "Considering I am the owner, I don't think I'll get into trouble for giving away free stuff. Besides, you're my first repeat customer, so that should at least entitle you to a free coffee and bakery item, right?"

"You're the owner," Peter repeated, suddenly feeling dumb considering how obvious it was. 

B.B. nodded. "Yep. I couldn't sleep last night, and when I can't sleep, I bake, hence the cinnamon rolls, so I figured it was better to open for a few hours a day early and sell them rather than have to throw them out because I can't eat them all." 

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Y/F/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N."

Peter took it, giving it a brief shake. "Peter Parker."

"Very nice to meet you, Peter Parker."

"Nice to meet you as well, Y/N." Peter enjoyed the way her name felt on his tongue.

"Thanks for stopping by again. Hope to see you again soon."

Peter grinned. "Actually, you'll be seeing me tomorrow morning. I'm the staff photographer for the Daily Bugle so I'll be taking photos for the paper during your interview."

A look of realization flitted across Y/N's face. "Ohhh, that makes sense now. That reporter from the Bugle did say that one of her colleagues had stopped by this morning and recommended that she try the cinnamon rolls."

Peter chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, that was me."

"Well thank you for recommending them to your colleagues. I really appreciate it."

"It was no problem, really. The cinnamon roll was excellent." Peter gestured to the bakery box. "Well, I mean obviously, since I'm back for another one." Not because you're beautiful and I just wanted to see you again, he thought. Well… not only that.

He took a sip of his coffee. "So I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Y/N smiled. "Yeah, I guess you will."

Peter picked up the bakery box. "Thanks again for the coffee and cinnamon rolls. I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem."

Peter turned to leave.

"Oh, hey, wait!" Y/N added.

Peter turned back towards her.

Y/N bit her lip, then picked up a business card from the holder in front of the register and wrote something on the back before handing it to Peter. 

Peter studied the card.

Bean There, Done That

714 2nd Ave.

New York, NY 10016

(646)-555-2390

www.btdt.com

He turned it over and saw an additional phone number written on the back. 

"If no one's up front when you get here tomorrow morning you can text me and I'll come let you in," Y/N explained.

Peter put the card in his wallet for safekeeping, making a mental note to add Y/N's contact info to his phone as soon as he left the shop. "That sounds great."

"See you tomorrow, Peter."

"See ya, Y/N."

Peter left the shop with a grin. Maybe my coffee maker breaking wasn't such a bad thing after all. 

I read your post with a light-hearted tone because I've been in such situations and funnily enough, coming from a blended family, several cultural conundrums. But specifically to your situation, I'm imagining not the difficulty with salsa or corn tortillas which is Level One, but tamales over the holidays which raises the bar considerably....

For a while in my life I legitimately considered moving to Germany. There’s multiple reasons I inevitably ended up staying in the US but one of the big ones was that one time when I was in Germany and wanted some salsa the closest thing I could find was basically just tomato sauce.