#(also happy new year! last tip for the year and will be posting more next year ^^)

[lifewithcake]

Sage Tip: Haima snapshots heal buffs

You can boost the strength of Haima by using it when heal buffs like Krasis and Physis 2 are active! All stacks of Haimatinon will be buffed, even if the heal buff falls off before a new barrier is applied (this is called snapshotting). In dungeons, take advantage of this to give your tank a really healthy shield with Haima.

Panhaima works the same way. Combining Physis 2 and Panhamia creates a large shield for your team and can be a good way to handle heavy multi-hit mechanics.

[pixiesfz]

Okay brutal to be hit with the transfer news and the angst… any chance you want to make a part 2 with a little “reunion” 👀 either reader transferring to a different NWSL team or maybe going to see Jessie since the WSL and NWSL are on breaks at different times, or just any happy redemption, I’m already hurting from the transfer and want some happiness

I am back from my holiday.

this may be a three-part series idk if I can restore their relationship this quickly.

hey there? j.f

plot: a year later you transfer to Gotham after not getting enough game time at Chelsea and you run into Jessie.

warning: angst

You sat on your mattress in your apartment with your hands in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers.

"Are you regretting it?" Sam asked as she sat next to you, Millie at the door leaning on the frame with her arms crossed.

You sniffed and wiped your nose, trying to stop your overthinking "no I know it's better for me” you declared as they both nodded “But I really am going to miss you guys" you admitted and Sam wrapped her arm around you "well if it makes you feel better you're already being forced to see us two more times for me and Mil's weddings" she shrugged.

"Does me moving affect my chance at best man?" you asked Sam who laughed "Oh c'mon you know you had that role in the bag" you laughed, leaning into her embrace.

"You'll do great at Gotham, they've offered you starting eleven and full 90 minute games plus, you've got some friends in the NWSL" Millie shrugged and you looked at her "I wouldn't call her my friend"

"It's been a year y/n/n you both have to talk about it and plus Sinclair loves you so much she'll go behind Jessie's back to help you out." You laughed at your friends very true comment.

"Kristie may have also threatened to hurt any of the Gotham girls if they mistreat you"

"Kristie!"

After that day Niamh volunteered to drive you to the Airport, there was silence. You and Niamh had become less close after Jessie told her what had happened but she soon figured out why you did it after the third match after she left, you had scored a goal and usually you would celebrate with Jessie.

Niamh watched your eyes gloss over when you turned around and remembered that the Canadian was gone. Niamh always stayed in contact with Jessie as the two were peas in a pod.

"does she know?" you asked softly in the car and Niamh nodded "She asked me if it was true and I said yes" Niamh told you and you looked out the window "what uhm- what did she say?"

"Y/n-" "I know" you cut her off "I'm sorry" you apologized, you couldn't dive into their conversations like that.

"She said that she missed you"

You sunk into your seat at your friends' words "Yeah well I miss her too".

You sat in your airplane seat in first class shortly after bidding Niamh goodbye, trying to get comfortable so that you could sleep but your mind was running about Jessie.

You had seen the comments that were left under your post where you had announced your leaving.

'is she moving for Jessie'

'finally her and Jessie will be reunited'

You rolled your eyes at the comments and turned off your phone.

You tried to sleep through the flight, waking up every now and then to go to the toilet.

When you finally landed you weren’t expecting anyone to pick you up but when you saw Christine Sinclair with a piece of paper that read your last name with a childish grin on her face you knew one of your friends from London had tipped her off.

You hugged her tightly when you saw her “I missed you y/n/n” she smiled and rubbed your head “I missed you too Chris” you sniffed and she grabbed your shoulders “excited to be in the NWSL?” She asked and you smiled

“A new challenge will be good” you shrugged and you began to walk to her car “Chelsea not doing you justice?”

“They like their new and shiny toys”

Christine smirked as she opened her trunk, you put in your luggage and jumped in the front seat.

“I don’t think I’ve driven you around since I had to pick you up from Jessie’s hotel room in friendlies” she joked and you turned your head.

Christine watched as you looked out the window “she told me what happened” she said and you looked at her “you don’t hate me?” You asked.

“Would I be here if I was”.

She smiled at you to ensure you that she did not in fact have a hatred for you “actually it made me respect you more even though I dealt with a heartbroken Jessie”

“I did what was best for her”

“Was it best for you?”

You shook your head “going to Gotham is best for me” you said and she nodded “I have a small confession to make” Christine said and you furrowed your brows “what?”

“I may have also sent Jessie to your house to help set you up”

You shot up in your seat.

You were not ready to see Jessie right now.

“Christine!”

“I’m sorry but we should just rip off the bandaid, I don’t want your first meeting back to be on the pitch” she defended as you both pulled in to your new house where another car was.

Jessie’s car.

Christine opened her side of the door and walked out to your side, tapping on you window which you rolled down slightly.

“Are you going to get out?”

“No”.

Christine rolled her eyes and unlocked the car door herself opening it and forcibly dragging you out of the car, you hoped Jessie wasn’t looking back.

“Does Jessie know it’s my house?” You asked as you walked to her car “I’m pretty sure it’s best if I don’t tell you that”.

You took a deep breath as you saw Jessie get out of her car “hey you said that-“ she started but stopped when she saw your figure next to her teammate.

“Hey there” you said softly and Jessie stood in her spot next to her car “hey” she muttered.

“Cool let’s go!” Christine clapped her hands together before making her way to your front door as you and Jessie still stood looking at each other.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hi hello i wasn’t expecting to write barzy long fic but those damn musician mat photos KILLED me. also yes, i started this fic literally the day after the photos were posted but here we are. it needed major editing and also i need to like sit on it for a bit before posting. ANYWAY it’s here and i’m happy with it? i hate the title but whatever, it is what it is. enjoy and let me know what you think!! 🫶🏻

word count: 4.3k

tw: semi-public fingering but doesn’t go all the way, public thigh grinding

summary: hanging out in a dive bar on long island, the last thing you expect to see is mat with a guitar over his shoulder, joining the cover band on stage

When you look up from responding to a text and Mat’s nowhere to be found, you’re not really that surprised. He does this a lot - gets distracted and wanders off. Occasionally, he’ll be cornered by a fan, smiling gamely for a selfie and chatting for a bit. Every once in a while he gets roped into a game of pool, chatting with the random men like he’s known them for years. Once in a bar in the city, and this one nearly killed you, he struck up a conversation with Aaron Tveit - your favorite Broadway star and secretly a man that you absolutely would use a hall pass on - without realizing that he was talking to someone more famous in certain New York circles than he is.

All this to say, Mat disappearing in the bar isn’t a totally unprecedented occurrence.

You set your phone back down on the high top table and lean a shoulder against the wall next to you, crossing your legs at the ankle and taking a sip of your High Noon. It’s warm-ish now, starting to taste more artificial, and you look over your shoulder at the bar, scrutinizing the crowd that’s gathered and waiting for the bartender to notice them. It’s not worth it to leave the table since it’ll be snatched up in a second, so you flip your phone over and use your index finger to tap out a quick message to Mat asking him to get you another drink when he gets back from wherever he wandered off to - at this point you’re assuming there’s a major line for the men’s room. The little blue bubble floats up and shows it was delivered. Satisfied, you lean back against the wall, scooping your hair off the back of your neck with your free hand and holding it in a lazy ponytail so your neck can cool off a bit.

Long Island is a humid, swampy mess, August slipping away into a moment in time, as Queen Taylor says. But September is doing her damnedest to remind everyone that she’s still a summer month too.

Not that you mind, having been born and raised on Long Island and intimately familiar with the weather extremes, but it’s particularly gross in the bar tonight. Sweaty bodies packed in for the 90s alt cover band that’s supposed to be playing tonight. They’ve played at the bar before and they’re pretty good you have to admit, but right now you’re just wishing for a little bit of a breeze.

Giving up on your hair, you twist it up into a messy knot, securing it with a thin black elastic that’s seen better days. Three loops around thick hair, and you know it’s going to snap before the night is over, but you can’t worry about that now. There’s immediate relief from pulling your hair off your neck and now you can focus on the fact that Mat’s actually been missing for more than a few minutes. You tap your phone screen, looking for a message, but there’s nothing from him, just a few messages in the girls’ group chat talking about Monday night’s poker event. Wrinkling your nose, you look around the bar again, trying to see if you can spot your boyfriend.

It’s too dark though, Mat’s hair and black tee would blend in with the crowds. After a few more minutes of looking, you give up, rolling your eyes and muttering to yourself, “he better not have found Aaron Tveit again,” before taking another sip of your High Noon. The spark of grapefruit flavour hits the back of your tongue and you pinch your lips together, swiping at your lower lip with the tip of your tongue. Drops of condensation roll down the can, making your hand wet and you wipe your palm on the fabric of your dress, already a little sticky with sweat.

Bored without Mat, you reply to the group chat and scroll through Instagram, double tapping on a photo Sofia posted of Olivia and commenting a string of heart eyes emojis. While you’re on your phone, the band takes the stage, a group of older men that have clearly been on the circuit for a while now. You start to swipe over to the phone app, ready to call Mat and find out where he went, when another man comes out onto the stage - this one much younger, much more handsome, and much more familiar to you.

“What?” The shocked gasp falls out of your mouth and either you’re louder than you thought or Mat just has radar to tell where you are at any given moment, because he looks over as he’s adjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder and winks at you, his mouth curling up in that familiar cocky smirk you know and love.

Mat’s been fooling around on the guitar for years now and he’s gotten half-way decent in that time, but you had no idea he was feeling confident enough to play in front of a packed bar. Or that he knew the band well enough to ask or be asked to join.

The lights over the stage dim and brighten simultaneously and the band gets into position, drumsticks clicking together to signify the start of the set. In your excitement and rush to grab your phone so you can record Mat, you nearly knock over your drink, catching it at the last second. Mat grins at you again and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, looking down at the guitar to position his fingers. You cover your mouth with your free hand to muffle the excited noises that start when the band begins to play - you want to make sure that the video you record has Mat’s playing, not your squeaks and cheers. He looks a little nervous at the start, focused intently on her fingers and the guitar strings, but as the song goes on, Mat gets more into it and relaxes.

The phone shakes in your hand a little from your excitement and the inevitability of you bouncing a bit on the balls of your feet as you get into the music too. Mat’s hair falls over his forehead and curls around his ears, long at his neck, and a flush of heat spreads through your stomach. He’s stupidly attractive up on stage, playing his guitar, and you’re ready to jump him. You lean up a little on your toes to get a better angle, the hem of your dress fluttering around your thighs. Mat looks up while he plays and spots you again. You move your hand from your mouth and grin brightly at him. He responds with another delighted smirk, shaking his hair out of his face.

Around you, the crowd is into the cover, singing along when they know the lyrics and dancing in that lazy way people dance in dive bars. You catch a few mentions of Mat’s name, eyes landing on a handful of younger girls that are staring openly at him and recording. You bite down on your lower lip to prevent the self-satisfied smirk from forming. There’s something extremely satisfying knowing that all these girls are thirsting over Mat, but you get to go home with him.

Mat shakes his hair back again and scrunches his nose up while he plays and the girl closest to you nearly yelps, “fuck, he’s so hot with that hair.”

Her friend chimes in with, “it’s giving Nathan Scott season four minus the depression.”

The first girl replies, “it’s going to be such a crime when he has to cut it for the season.” She’s not wrong - you always hate when Mat does the Lou-approved chop at the end of the summer.

You muffle a laugh behind your hand and focus on Mat’s playing. The song winds down and his grin is immediate and genuine. He shakes the hands of each of the guys and claps them on the back before wandering off the stage. You stop the recording and set your phone back down on the table, clapping and cheering along with the crowd. The band starts back up again and you bounce on the balls of your feet, waiting for Mat to find you.

He ducks through the crowds, still grinning, and appears in front of you suddenly. Before he can say a word, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and slanting your lips over his. One of Mat’s arms wraps around your lower back, holding you flush against the front of his body. You grin against his mouth - he tastes like peach flavored High Noon, chapstick, and the salt of his sweat. Mat’s tongue swipes against your lower lip, encouraging you to open your mouth and you do, deepening the kiss and twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed up by your lips. The kiss lingers and fades out as you pull back for air, but then Mat ducks forward and kisses you softly. Your forehead rests against his and you exhale a little giggle.

“Hi, babe,” he laughs, whole face crinkled up in delight when he pulls back, one arm still looped around your waist. You can feel his hand tremble against your waist, betraying nerves or leftover adrenaline from his stint on stage.

“Oh my god! You loser!” You laugh, pushing at his shoulder with the palm of your hand. Mat grabs your wrist with lightning quick reflexes and flexes his fingers around your wrist, tightening gently before he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss your pulse point. Your breath stutters in your chest, but you continue, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to play!”

Still holding your wrist, Mat steps closer and shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning on it. I went to the bathroom, sort of got talking with the band,” he shrugs, “it just happened.”

“It just happened!” you echo on a laugh. “Well you were amazing.”

“Thanks,” Mat ducks his head, ears going a little pink underneath his hair. He releases your wrist and scrapes his hand through his hair, the sweaty strands holding in place. Your back bumps against the wall and you realize Mat’s still crowding your body, one muscled thigh in between your legs. You hook an ankle around his, dragging his leg a little closer and the faint smile on his lips becomes more salacious, hungry. He leans his hand against the wall next to your head, caging you in. Your stomach flips and heat coils low, throbbing between your legs.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip and Mat’s gaze traces the movement, eyes darkening in a familiar way. His palm is flat over the curve of your hip, but his fingers curl up a little, capturing the cotton fabric of your dress and tugging the fabric up a little. A flutter of a breeze hits your upper thigh.

“Maybe you should quit hockey,” you giggle a little, blinking lazily, “and play guitar full time.”

“Yeah?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think amateur guitar playing is as lucrative as professional hockey.” His fingers twist in your dress more, making you glad that he has you backed against the wall and blocked with his body. He leans in, pressing his leg against your inner thigh, knocking it out an inch or so, widening your stance. Your entire body flushes with heat and it has nothing to do with the humid bar atmosphere.

Your head lolls back, hitting lightly against the wall, and you hum. “It’s really fucking hot though,” you murmur, tipping your head up so you can press a kiss to the edge of his chin. “All that fingering,” you giggle the innuendo, finding it cheesy even as you say it.

Mat huffs a laugh against your temple. His fingers loosen their grip in the fabric of your dress, letting the damp and sure to be wrinkled fabric fall back against your thigh. “I already have a fingering side-gig,” he informs you, his hand slipping underneath the hem of your dress. He presses the pads of his fingers up against the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp, jolting your hips forward. He strokes the fabric slowly, dropping kisses against your temple and down the side of your face. He works you over through the fabric, sticky arousal collecting between your legs. The lace surely can’t be doing much at this point and Mat’s fingers slide over your inner thighs. His calloused fingertips catch and snag on the lace, stuttering his work and making your clit throb.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna let you touch me after that line,” you laugh, choking off into a little gasp when Mat snaps the elastic of your panties against the crease of your thigh.

“You started it,” he reminds you, a cocky smirk gracing his lips. His forehead touches yours as his fingers continue their exploration, trailing up and dipping under the waistband of your panties. Your stomach clenches when he stops inches from where you really want him and you bump his nose with yours. “You’re not supposed to start things you can’t finish,” he warns, pressing closer to you, sliding his fingers lower. Your skin is hot, sweat beading at your hairline from the effort of keeping your legs from trembling.

You let out a harsh exhale. “Mat,” you mumble his name, grabbing at his wrist with both hands, trying to force his hand lower. He shakes his head against yours and doesn’t budge, your muscle strength no match for his. “We’re in public.” As if to punctuate your sentence, the drummer goes into a solo, the beat of the sticks on the drums pounding in time with your heart.

His fingers curl briefly and then they’re gone, leaving you cold and hot and frustrated. “Okay,” he says, shrugging. There’s an infuriating smirk on his face when you manage to look up. “I’ll behave.” He flips the hem of your dress down and smooths his palm over the fabric.

“I…what…Mat!” You stutter, the throbbing between your legs pounding in time with your heart. “You can’t just…” your voice trails off and you press your thighs together - or try to at least - Mat’s muscled leg is still in between yours and prevents you from giving yourself any relief.

Your absolute menace of a boyfriend holds his index finger - the one that had just been making a home in between your legs and is still wet with your arousal - up to his lips and shushes you. “Shh, I’m trying to listen to the music,” he smirks, sliding his other hand down the wall behind you and wrapping it around your shoulders, easily manhandling you so your back is leaning against his chest while he leans against the wall. You’re so stunned by the delayed pleasure that you don’t resist at all. Mat reaches around you and picks up your half-empty High Noon and knocks it back, holding the can lightly and sliding his arm from around your shoulders to wrap around your waist, forearm pressed against your stomach. His broad palm rests on your opposite hip, blunt nails scratching lightly and absently.

He hums along to the music in your ear and you sink back against his chest, still frustrated, muttering, “I can’t believe you shushed me.” Mat exhales a little laugh and kisses the side of your neck, scraping his teeth against your pulse point. Your head suddenly feels too heavy for your neck and you drop it back against his shoulder, giving Mat easier access to kiss your cheekbone. “Take me home,” you whine quietly, silently willing Mat’s hand to drift lower, but it remains stubbornly planted on the jut of your hip bone.

Mat’s nose bumps against your temple and you catch the scent of his cologne, mixed with the citrusy sweet alcoholic scent of the High Noon on his breath. He lazily rolls his hips forward, the hard bulge of his erection pressing against the curve of your ass. You grind back against him, whining low in the back of your throat. “Mat, please, I wanna go home,” you mumble, the vibration of the music rattling through your chest. Your hands wrap around Mat’s forearm, squeezing. “C’mon, take me to bed.”

“Babe,” Mat’s arm tightens around you, pulling you harder against his erection. You push your ass into him again, nearly grinding over the thigh that’s still in between your legs, desperate for relief. He holds you in place. “Thought we were in public?” His voice is slightly strangled, his breathing hitching when you press back harder, slipping a hand behind your back and in between your bodies. It takes a second, but you manage to wiggle your hand into place, pressing the heel of your palm, hard, against the fly of his jeans. Mat sucks in a sharp breath and he pinches your hip in warning, his head dipping down and his teeth sinking into the side of your neck in a matching warning nip. You hiss at the sting of his teeth, knowing there’s going to be a mark there in the morning when he sucks gently at the spot, tracing his tongue over the faint impressions of his teeth.

“We don’t have to be,” you murmur, brushing your knuckles against the ridge of his erection. “You have a very nice car that can get us home in twenty minutes.”

Mat’s breath is harsh in your ear, the empty can in his hand making a crunching noise when he crumples it in his fist. Your arm is starting to go a little numb, twisted behind your back and pressed in between your bodies, and you’re desperately hoping Mat gives up and gives in to what you want soon. His hand flexes over your hip and you grind down on his thigh again, hiccuping a breath at the drag of his jeans and your lacy panties over your swollen clit. Faintly, you wonder if you’re causing a scene, if people are watching you both, but Mat’s hands aren’t anywhere they shouldn’t be and your grind on his thigh could easily be mistaken for drunken dancing.

“Think you can wait twenty minutes, babe?” Mat jerks his hips into your ass, tossing the can back onto the table top and wrapping his other arm around your stomach so you’re caged against him. You wiggle your hand out from behind your back just before it’s completely lost feeling. “Moving pretty good on my thigh,” he bounces it lightly, sending shockwaves up your spine. “Think you could get off like this?”

Yes, is your immediate thought.

You have and can use Mat’s thick, muscled thigh to get yourself off. Most recently two nights ago, lazily grinding yourself over him on the couch while half-heartedly watching a movie. But tonight, with alcohol and lust fogging your brain and the image of Mat’s capable fingers working the guitar strings, you don’t want his thigh.

“Wan’ your fingers,” you turn your head and press the tip of your nose against the side of his neck, nuzzling him. He smells so fucking good. Mat chuckles, kissing your forehead. “You’re so good with your fingers.” Your hands cross your stomach, covering his hands, and you play with his fingers, lacing them with yours.

“You’re good at getting what you want,” Mat grins and you can feel the lift of his cheek against the side of your head. He squeezes you in a hug once, tightly, before loosening his grip. “You gotta walk in front of me to the car, babe. Hide the evidence of what you do to me, don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Your heart kicks up its tempo in your chest and you lift your head from Mat’s shoulder. “Home?” You ask brightly, wiggling and turning in Mat’s arms, your own coming up to loop around his neck.

“Yeah, home,” he laughs, smirking, cupping your cheek with one large hand and dragging your face up to his for a deep kiss. His hips roll mindlessly against yours and you lift higher on your toes to press flush against him, the throbbing between your legs building. When he breaks the kiss off, there’s a mischievous little gleam in his eyes and a slightly mean curl to his lips. “But you don’t get to touch. I’m gonna practice on you, okay, babe?” He taps his fingertips against your cheek, “just these. Gonna practice my finger placement.” Mat’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with lust, obscuring the usual hazel-green color.

Your head bobbles up and down in an agreeable nod. You’ll agree to almost anything just to get Mat’s fingers inside your throbbing cunt. You also know that he’s a total softie and as much as he tries to act stern and tough, once you get into bed with him it’s only a matter of time before he gives up the act and gives you whatever you want. Honestly, you’re both too horny for each other to really commit to the bit. Plus, you roll your hips up into Mat’s, based on the rock hard erection he’s sporting, you’re not even sure Mat’ll be able to keep to the promise of giving you only his fingers.

His hand slides back from your cheek and tangles in the messy bun knotted at the nape of your neck, gently pulling so your face tilts up. “Let’s get out of here,” he grins, kissing the corner of your mouth and turning you around swiftly, one hand resting on your lower back to push you in front of him and through the crowd. You reach back and tangle your fingers with his free hand, a zap of excitement running up your spine when Mat’s hand slides lower and grabs a handful of your ass.

You’re navigating the crowd with Mat hot on your heels, purposely stepping on the backs of your sandals and laughing when you whip your head around to glare at him. His hand flexes against your lower back, warm through the cotton, and he uses his hand in yours to pull you back slightly so your ass bumps against his groin. “Gotta move a little faster, babe,” he teases.

“You’re a fucking menace, Mathew,” you grumble, a laugh startling out of your chest when Mat finally urges you out the front door and crowds you up against the front of the bar. Heat pools low in your stomach and you lick your lower lip reflexively. Mat grins down at you and ruffles a hand through his hair. It’s messy, the little wings sticking out around his ears and neck, and all you want to do is tangle your fingers in it and pull while he eats you out. And you tell him so, watching with delight as his eyes glaze over a little and his mouth goes slack.

“Why the fuck are we still standing here then?” He asks, voice a little strangled.

A giggle slips past your lips. “You tell me, Van Halen.” Your hands slide up Mat’s arms and over his shoulders so your fingers can twist in his hair. Mat hisses when you tug gently. “Why aren’t we in the car or at home where you can get those talented fingers knuckle deep in me?”

Mat groans your name and drops his forehead to your shoulder, growling a little against your overheated skin. His hands slide to your waist, gripping tightly. You grin wickedly, even though he can’t see it, and tug his hair again. “If you get me home soon, I’ll show off my skills,” you murmur into his ear, tongue darting out to trace the shell of his ear.

“Fuck,” Mat grunts, grabbing your hand and nearly yanking your shoulder out of its socket with the force of pulling you down the street to his parked car. Your giggles echo around the quiet street, the humid air enveloping you and making your hair frizz around your temples. At the car, Mat pushes you up against the side, grasping your chin in one hand and kisses you, hard and bruising, his tongue dipping in your mouth. His other hand slides up your dress and he presses his thumb against your clit, the rasp of the lace on your clit providing extra simulation. Your knees go weak and you moan into his mouth, flattening your palms against the side of the car for stability. A rush of heat floods between your legs and the longer Mat’s lips are on yours, the wetter you get. At this point you’re not sure if it’s sweat or arousal that’s dripping down the inside of your thighs. He slides his tongue over your lower lip and rubs his fingers against your damp panties again, eliciting a strangled noise from the back of your throat.

When Mat breaks the kiss, pulling back from your face and breathing heavily, you blink up at him, completely dazed and lust drunk. He kisses the tip of your nose and squeezes the inside of your thigh and you giggle, unable to stop the words from slipping out of your mouth, “are you gonna play Wonderwall before or after I get my orgasms?”

A laugh barks out of Mat’s mouth and he pinches your ass cheek, making you squeal. “Just for that, it’s gonna be before,” he laughs again, reaching behind you to pull open the passenger door. You fold into the seat, making sure to flash Mat a little before yanking the door shut and grinning at him from behind the window.

“Who’s the menace now, babe?” Mat sticks his tongue out at you, laughing, his eyes dancing with mischief.

“Still you,” you tease back, wrinkling your nose at him, knowing he’s going to be so worked up the more you poke fun at him. “Now get in the car, I’m gonna put Wonderwall on so we can get straight to the fingering practice when we get home.”

[kerryweaverlesbian]

for the prompts! 9&13 combined 👀👀

(From this post) (also here's the last one I did).

Castiel had escaped to the empty kitchen at the earliest opportunity as soon as the number of people in the map room had exceeded 8. He doesn't mind crowds, he quite likes them outside - the warm, hurried rush of humanity is quite endearing - but he'd become accustomed to there being a maximum of 4 in the Bunker, including him, so it feels almost claustrophobic to have more, even somewhere as large as this.

He's not surprised that Dean came to find him two hours in, though he is a little surprised that it took him so long.

"There's just so many of them," Dean complains, a little muffled against Cas's shirt, "I think the fuckers are multiplying. I turn around, there's two of them, I look again, there's five."

"The creation of a new prophet is a cosmic event. I certainly would have noticed," Cas says, mildly. He strokes soothingly down Dean's back with one hand, and takes a sip of coffee with the other. Dean grumbles and blindly pushes the coffee mug away from his head when it brushes against him, squeezing into Cas tighter with the strong arms around his waist.

"How many prophets does one god need? There's not that much interesting stuff that happens in the world. And more importantly, why the hell do they have to come here?"

"You invited them."

"Kevin invited them!"

"Because you told him to."

"Well, the kid needs more friends! He can't just hang out with you, me, Sam and Garth for the rest of his life. Anyway, it's definitely working out, I haven't even seen him for over an hour."

"I think he went to his room."

"What?" Dean pulls his head back from his embrace, appalled.

"He said he wasn't feeling up to it."

Actually, he'd muttered stupid Dean, stupid Bunker, stupid prophets, I wish none of them had ever been born, fuck my life, this is the Andover middle school dance all over again as he'd loaded his arms with chips and stormed out of the kitchen in the opposite direction to the gathering, but Castiel's powers of extrapolation had been improving over recent years.

"Then who the hell is this party for?" Dean complains, but he doesn't resist when Cas pulls him back to his nuzzled in position. He likes having Dean here, choosing his company as the antidote to others. Dean belongs in any place that brings him comfort, and Cas is lucky that in his arms is where Dean frequently finds it.

"It appears to be for 47 strangers who are better at getting along than we are." Then he tips his head. "48."

"What?" Dean squawks, pushing back from Cas's chest with alarm.

"They're multiplying."

Dean laughs, "You're an asshole."

Cas agrees with a hum. "You like that about me."

"Sure do. Get over here."

Dean's kiss is lingering, sweet and tender, and Cas's chest glows with it. It takes a second for Cas to open his eyes after, and he's treated to Dean's warm, relaxed grin.

"I guess I better go get rid of them so we can all stop hiding, huh?"

"That would be wise," Cas agrees, but tugs onto Dean's outer shirt when he starts to turn, "You've got..."

He smooths fixes the front of Dean's hair where it'd got smooshed in his impromptu snuggles with gentle fingers, then brushes his thumb over Dean's eye crinkles with affection on the way down from it, since he was in the area. The warmth in Dean's gaze when Cas meets his eyes again cannot be overstated, matched only by the feeling in Cas's own heart. He gets kissed again, and would've been happy to continue that way all through the party, but then there's a crashing noise from the direction of the war room, followed by laughter, which wrenches Dean's attention away.

"That's it," Dean says, untucking his gun from the back of his jeans, "I'm clearing house. Two minutes, tops, and we're free and clear."

Cas wishes him luck as he , and 30 seconds later there's the sound of a gunshot and Dean's voice authoritatively saying "Y'all better haul ass out of my house right now or the next one's hitting a body!", then the desperate scrambling of 47 people scrambling out of a single door.

In 30 seconds less than Dean's suggested timeframe, the place is empty but for its regular inhabitants again. Cas smiles into his coffee cup. They don't need anyone else to be happy.

@hauntedpearl hi Doe!!!! thank you for the prompts!! which were: Pressing their face into the other's neck, hiding from the world and brushing away an unruly lock of hair. I had been working on a Jo/Bela for this one but it wasn't working, and this one suddenly came to me in a vision this morning. So sappy. They love each otherrrrr. PS Sam's hiding in the armory lol. Not one of them likes big parties.

[alrightbuckaroo]

Button

thanks for the tag @jesuisici33! this came out much sappier and longer than expected but oh well. Rules: Everyone uses the same word prompt. Write as much or as little as you want for any fandom. Tag at least 5 peopleThere’s NO time limit! Just have fun! Reblog or post separately

"Carlos would kill me if he knew I was showing you this." Andrea flips through the photo album, the plastic pages crinkling against each other as she turns the through it. "This is was the first time we took him to see the Easter Bunny."

Andrea shows TK a photo of a five year old Carlos who's teary eyed and red faced. "It was also the last time we took him to see the Easter Bunny."

Andrea points at a photo of a nine year old Carlos in wide-brimmed black cowboy hat, black button down, a denim jacket and denim jeans. "He wanted to be Cordell Walker from Walker, Texas Ranger for character day at school. He said he wanted to be just like his dad."

Next to it is another photo of Carlos is the same outfit, but Gabriel is kneeling down to be level with his son. They're both wearing cowboy hats that are battling for the focus of the photo. Carlos is smiling TK's favorite kind of smile. He remembers seeing the same smile when he asked Carlos to marry him. Carlos is smiling like he's unapologetically happy.

"Who's this?" TK reaches for an amalgamation of fuzz that's sitting in the box. After pulling it out, he sees that's it a stuffed Koala that's a little weathered, faded grey and missing a blue button eye.

"Kique." Andrea says the name fondly, like she's being reunited with an old friend. "Most kids had a safety blanket, but my Carlitos." Andrea reaches out and gently rubs on one of Kique's ears, feeling the soft fur against the pads of her finger. "He had Kique."

Andrea tilts her head and takes in Kique's missing eye. "If only we knew where that eye went, though." Andrea sighs, then shrugs. "I don't know, part of me wonders if he still needs Kique, maybe even now more than ever." Andrea looks at TK and smiles. "Then again, now he has you."

TK grins at the statement, flattered that Andrea thinks so much of him. That said, TK looks at Kique and can't help but think, maybe having a couple of reinforcements isn't a bad thing. And he is pretty sure he has a couple of buttons lying around the apartment looking for a new home.

"Andrea," TK begins, hoping the answer to the question yet to be asked will be yes. "Do you have a sewing kit?"

Andrea smiles and TK feels hopeful. "I sure do."

--

"Hey baby," Carlos announces when he walks through the front door. "I stopped by the pharmacy and got band-aids, like you asked. Are you finally going to tell me, oh my god." Carlos eyes widen when he sees TK's red stained fingers. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I thought I knew how to sew." TK says while looking at the tips of his fingers. "Turns out, I do not know how to sew."

TK watches as Carlos frantically opens the box of band-aids. "I promise, it looks worse than it is."

"Well it looks pretty damn bad." Carlos had already unwrapped a band-aid and is working to take off the pieces of paper on the back of it. "Why were you sewing in the first place?" He wraps the bandage around TK's right index finger. He doesn't need to, TK could do it himself, but Carlos wants to. He looks up at TK. "TK?"

"I was trying to surprise you." TK comically frowns as Carlos wraps another bandage around TK's left ring finger.

Carlos raises his eyebrows. "I'm surprised all right. What was the actual surprise?"

TK holds up a band-aid clad finger and walks into the bedroom before walking out with a stuffed koala one with a blue eye and a red eye. "Your mom took me down memory lane."

"Of course she did." Carlos mutters under his breath.

"And in doing so, introduced me to Kique, the one eyed protector." TK wipes at the red button eye. "Figured I would take matters into my own hands to make sure he has a second eye. Better to see any oncoming monsters with."

He passes the koala to Carlos, and Carlos smiles TK's favorite kind of smile. "TK, you didn't have to do that." Though, based on Carlos' reaction, and the way he instinctually grabs on to Kique like he never wants to let him go, TK think he had no choice but to do just that.

"I know, but I wanted to." TK tries to respond casually, but his grin gives him away.

"I can't believe I have Kique the Koala back in my arms again." Carlos smiles down at the mismatched eyes. "I'm going to cherish this like it's what I love most in the world. Well second most, I suppose."

"What's the first?" TK asks, eyes bright with knowing.

Carlos reaches over and pulls TK into a kiss. "You, and I think you know that."

TK smiles and it's Carlos' favorite type of smile. "I did, I just wanted to hear you say it."

no pressure tagging: @heartstringsduet, @carlos-in-glasses, @catanisspicy, @rosedavid, @strandnreyes, @reyesstrand, @welcometololaland, @rmd-writes, @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut, @bonheur-cafe and @sanjuwrites :)

[mbakuetshurisprincess]

The Secret Princess

AN: Hello my loves. Once again this is just a palate cleanser while I work on BTB3, Completely unrelated, y’all liked A Betting Woman A LOT more than I thought yall would fr thank you. I look at the reblogs and giggle at all the funny shit y’all comment so thank you for making me smile. University is about to revamp for me in the next two weeks so if I go ghost I DEEPLY apologize in advance. Also this is my last fic without a taglist, go check out my last post to join it! This fic is my first semi-supernatural reader, I wouldn’t really say she’s supernatural tho, more spiritually inclined. Just wanted to put that in their idk.  Hope y’all enjoy!

Summary: The wind always did seem to have a way of bringing certain things back to your doorstep. 

Pairing: Shuri x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of spirits kinda, idk spiritual stuff about people visiting you in non physical ways after they’ve passed. 

Word count: 3.447

Suggested listening: Moonlight - Chris Bloom

“Your company is my cup of tea This light in between us is dim just like The moonlight Shit got me feeling nice When you hit me up I feel a drop in my tum like Damn, am I in love? I might be if she comes to spend the night That could be nice”

You plopped yourself into your hammock chair and let out a hearty sigh. Finally a moment of calm after a long day, you gazed out into the French Quarter and people watched for a moment. Although you had only been in the space a year you loved how it allowed you to just observe people going about their daily lives. 

You reached for the blunt you had rolled the night before and brought it to your mouth. Taking one final look out into the Quarter you brought the lighter to the tip of the blunt and held it there just long enough for the paper to catch fire. You removed the lighter once you were satisfied and took your first pull of the blunt, savoring the aroma benefits that the rose and lavender had.

A light gust of wind swept past you and when you looked down at your blunt it had gone out. You shrugged your shoulders and relit the blunt, happy that it sparked again without canoeing. You turned your head to place the lighter down on the stand next to you and the same gust of wind swept past you, extinguishing your blunt once again. This time you were smart enough to notice the slight smell of sandalwood and ginger in the air when the wind passed you, both scents unusual for the New Orleans air to have. You were a clever woman and knew that once was an accident, twice was a coincidence but three times, three times was a sign. Deep down you had a feeling that you knew what, rather who the wind was trying to speak for but you needed one more attempt to know for sure. 

You picked the lighter back up again and lit the blunt for the final time. A second passed and the gust of sandalwood and ginger air was back again put out your blunt. You took the hint and put down the blunt and lighter, clearly, he wanted your full attention right now. 

“No sir, I don’t know what it is you want but I can’t today.” You spoke out to the wind, hoping he was listening. “It’s a full moon tonight. I’ve got plans.” 

You waited for a response or sign but none came, evidently, that wasn’t the answer he wanted. You dropped your shoulders in defeat, even in death you couldn't say no to T’Challa. 

“She’s here already?” You asked him. His response was to rustle the leaves underneath a light post across from your home. You could easily see the spot from your balcony and you knew when she came she would be able to do the same from her spot.

You leaned back into your hammock chair, satisfied that at least this time he was bringing her to you. 

While you were now in a relaxed state Shuri was in exactly the opposite. After a mission had gone wrong, Nakia, Okoye, and her were left in New Orleans with no way of communicating with Wakanda. She had sustained a decent injury in her abdomen that her kimoyo beads were not fully healing and Okoye had at least dislocated her shoulder.  Thankfully this city was slightly familiar to Shuri having been here once before. Running on pure hope, the young royal had led the group into the French Quarter hoping that by some miracle someone had heard her prayer and helped her once again. 

“Shuri we are LOST,” Okoye stated plainly. “We need to develop a plan on how we are going to get back to Wakanda.” 

“I have a plan,” Shuri said quietly as she continued walking ahead. 

“Walking around the French Quarter aimlessly is not a plan!” Okoye urged through tight lips, not wanting to alarm any of the drunken guests that surrounded them. 

“Nakia, are you concerned?” Shuri asked, turning around to face the two women. 

“Slightly,” Nakia answered truthfully. 

Shuri nodded, appreciating the honesty in her answer. “Okoye, only worry slightly then.” Shuri turned back around and resumed her path forward leaving the other women to follow her. Her fake confidence was slowly starting to leave her and she soon became worried that maybe her hope was a foolish thing to rely on. 

Just as those thoughts started to enter her head Shuri felt something, it made her pause in her tracks stopping just under a streetlight. She was being watched. Her travel companions stopped behind her and looked her up and down confused. 

“What is it?” Okoye questioned, concerned at the royal's sudden change in attitude. 

“I am being watched.” Shuri looked all around the ground level of the quarter trying to find the pair of eyes that alerted her. When she couldn’t find them she moved her eyes up higher scanning the buildings and open terraces until she found you. There you were just as she had hoped to stare down at her in all of your ethereal glory, lit by the early moonlight. 

You two exchanged looks for a minute before you tilted your head to the side inviting Shuri to come to you and make your way inside your apartment. It took you a few seconds to make it down the stairs and by the time you did Shuri and her partners were standing at the doorway. 

The Queen was the first to approach you, walking up to the bottom of the steps she bowed in front of you. 

“Princess,”

You narrowed your eyes at her when she stood up. Deciding to repeat her gesture you bowed to her. 

“My Queen,” 

Nakia and Okoye could both feel the fake formality in the gesture, it seemed more like a dig at each other than a showing off of titles. 

“You knew I was coming?” Shuri questioned. 

“He let me know not too long ago that you were here. Almost made me waste half a lighters fluid trying to get the message to me.” You replied with a shake of your head. Shuri nodded and Nakia glanced at Okoye to see if she had any idea what you two were talking about; she did not.  You looked over the women's state and instantly saw Shuri and Okoye’s injuries. He always seemed to bring her back to you when she needed you the most. 

 “Well c’mon in.” You stepped aside and held open your arms gesturing towards the door. “An Udaku on my doorstep, I should have played the lottery.” 

Shuri mouthed a thank you to you and led the two women up the front porch and through the front door. You followed behind them, “Take them into the back room Shuri, I’ll bring y’all some tea.” 

The three women walked all the way to the back of your house to the screened-in back porch, Shuri gestured for them to sit on the couch and after exchanging a weary look the women obliged. Shuri sat in one of the bean bag chairs and relaxed into it; silently thanking Bast that her prayer had been answered. 

Okoye and Nakia looked around the room, Nakia admired the art that you had displayed and the photos of snowy mountainsides. Okoye on the other hand was identifying points of exit and possible weapons within the room. What? Someone needed to be rational here.  

“You never answered our question Shuri, who’s home is this? Who is she?” Okoye wanted answers and the way Shuri was so willing to let her guard down only left her with more questions. 

Shuri sighed, she knew Okoye’s questions were reasonable but she didn’t want to give a straight answer before you got back. “She is a friend of the Udaku family, someone to who we owe a thank you for saving us tonight.” 

Okoye groaned, “That is not an answer Shuri! We walk around an unfamiliar city and happen upon some “Princess” to take us in for the night? Nakia, do you know who she is?” 

Nakia shook her head no in response, truthfully she was still too fixated on the art you had displayed. Something about a few of the landscapes felt familiar to Nakia but she couldn’t place them.  

“Shuri just answer the-” Okoye’s words were stopped by your sudden presence at the door, she hadn’t even heard you walk up. 

You smiled lightly. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, General.” You set the tray of tea down on the coffee table between you all. “Please have a glass, it’s not like home but it’s still strong.” 

Shuri was the only one to grab a cup and pour herself some of the hot tea. Okoye watched on in horror, wondering if this was how Wakanda’s monarch was going to go out. When nothing happened she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, thanking Bast that everything was fine, for now. 

“You didn’t come in here with that technology this time, thank you.” There was something about the way you said technology that caught Nakia’s ear and brought her back to the conversation; once again it felt familiar as if she had heard it said like that before. She studied you as you sat down on a mat on the floor, tucking your legs beneath your long skirt as you sat crisscrossed.

“I am nothing if not respectful of your space.” Shuri took another sip of the tea savoring the strong herbal taste. “Thank you for taking us in tonight, I am not sure what I would have done without you.”  

You smiled at Shuri’s thanks, “That tea should help with the pain some but if you want me to do something about your abdomen,” You turned to face Okoye. “And your arm, I’m gonna need to actually help you.” 

Shuri went to speak, to tell you that you could do whatever you wanted but Okoye’s voice stopped her. “Does no one else see the problem with this?” Okoye turned to Nakia. “We are just supposed to trust some random American whom we know zero information about to ‘help’ us? After everything?” 

You tried to act like Okoye’s questioning of your intentions didn’t hurt but deep down it did. You rose from the mat and grabbed your medical bag, allowing the sound of the wind to ground you. “Shuri, you’ve brought them here. Explain to them who I am.” 

Once again Shuri went to talk but you sitting down next to her and speaking stopped her again. “But, I can tell you by the way she’s holding her stomach that the first stages of infection are starting to set in. So I can sit here and wait for her to tell you who I am and allow it to fester further. Or you can trust her judgment that she brought you here unarmed in the first place and allow me to give her and you the necessary medical aid you need.”

For a moment nothing could be heard in the room but the faint sound of the wind coming in through the window. Nakia broke the silence first, being ever the pacifier in tense situations. 

“Please go ahead.” She nodded towards Shuri, “And you, start speaking.” 

You opened your kit and began creating the mixture of plants you would need to stop Shuri’s infection. Shuri took off her shirt leaving her in just her sports bra and sweatpants. She rubbed her head for a few seconds debating how to phrase her next sentence before just blurting it out. 

“This is Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Jabari Land, and M’baku’s baby sister.” 

It all clicked in Nakia’s head, the sceneries were from Jabari Land, and the way you said technology was identical to the way M’baku did. “I was not aware M’baku had a sister.” She studied your face as you lifted it from your kit, noticing your similar features. 

You chuckled at her words as you began applying the paste lightly to Shuri’s stomach.“Then he’s done well by honoring our parents' wishes.” 

The Queen winced for a second when you applied slight pressure to ensure that the remedy had saturated her wound, upon hearing it you spoke a “Je suis désolé mon chéri.” just loud enough for her to hear and she smiled sweetly down at you. 

“You said she was a friend of the Udaku family, Shuri, who else knew of her?” Okoye looked you up and down trying to decide if she believed you let alone trusted you.

You could feel Shuri tense up underneath you before she spoke softly. “She was a friend of ‘Challa’s.” 

Nakia’s eyes became more focused on you, curious as to how you could have come into contact with her former lover. “You knew T’Challa?” 

You pulled your eyes from Shuri’s wound and over to Nakia. She could see the soft smile on your face. “I had the pleasure of knowing him when he was here with us and I’ve got the pleasure to still know him now.”

You spent the rest of the night explaining how you had met the former king. How after being shunned from your Jabari family for not following tradition and refusing marriage with a man, you ventured off out of Wakanda and into the United States, listening to the ancestors who spoke to you along the way through the wind. Eventually, you settled here in New Orleans and after living here for a year you felt a certain breeze come through, it called you into the city with its alluring nature and led you all the way to a very injured T’Challa. At first, he didn’t trust that you weren’t there to harm him but after you revealed your true identity to him, trust became quick with you two. 

You nursed him back to health and in exchange, he promised that he would never forget you and left you with a set of kimoyo beads. Although the physical time that you two spent together was minimal T’Challa still made it his mission to call and check in on you every few months and ensure that you were still doing okay. When he stopped calling one day you just assumed he had forgotten about you finally and had moved on with his life. It wasn’t until you were sitting outside one day smoking a blunt and a warm breeze that smelled like him passed you that you knew. No one had to call you to tell you he had passed, the smell of sandalwood and ginger in the wind was enough to tell you that not only had he passed on but he came to visit you like all the rest. A final way through the wind to tell you that he hadn’t forgotten about you.

By the time you had finished telling the story of you and T’Challa’s friendship you had patched Shuri’s wound and set Okoye’s arm. The moon was high in the night sky letting you know that it was later in the night than you intended to keep your guests up. 

“Alright,” You started with a clap of your hands. “We stay up any longer and I’m gonna run out of stories to tell.” 

Shuri went to protest, she loved to listen to you talk and claimed she could do it for hours but you hushed her with a look. “I’ve only got one spare bedroom, blame New Orleans architecture. But it’s got two beds so you two are more than welcome to have that.” 

Nakia mouthed a thank you to you, glad to have somewhere she knew was safe to rest her head for the night. Okoye just nodded at you, you could tell she had earned some amount of trust or at the minimum respect for you after listening to your story. The two women rose from their seats on the couch and made their way over to the open guest bedroom door. 

“Now you,” You turned your attention back to Shuri who was clearly very sleepy. “You can take my bed and I’ll take the couch.” 

“No, we will sleep together. In your bed.” Shuri declared, scrounging up her face and giving you a ‘what even made you think that wasn’t what was happening?’ look. 

“You need all the space to stretch out tonight.” You retorted, giving Shuri a look of your own. One that said ‘you’ve lost your damn mind if you think I’m sleeping with you tonight.’ 

The Queen stood from her chair and did an exaggerated yawn holding her hand out to you. “Let's go.” 

That was all it took for Shuri to get you into your bed with her. You followed her up your stairs and crawled under your plush covers aside from her. As you assumed she would, she laid her head on your breast and wrapped her arms around your waist. You had asked her once why she enjoyed sleeping in that position with you so much, to which she replied that it was because she could hear your heartbeat in her dreams if she slept still enough. You wrapped your free arm around her waist and rubbed circles into her skin until she fell asleep. Only when you were sure she was truly asleep and you felt sleep coming to get you too did you finally speak. 

“Thank you for bringing her back to me.” 

Shuri was pulled from her sleep when her hands realized they no longer were holding tight onto your waist. Before she opened her eyes to find you, she heard you. The sound was faint but she could hear you singing a Wakandan lullaby, one her mother had sung to her many times as a child. She opened her eyes and saw you sitting out on the balcony with your back to her. Moonlight backlit your body and the sound of your voice entered the room through a small crack you left in the door. 

Light on her feet, Shuri made her way over to the doorframe so she could hear you better and watch you more intently. You were singing to the moon, the lullaby was a story about familial love. The song no doubt is a painful reminder for both you and Shuri about your former relationships with your respective families. When you finished, Shuri spoke softly to not scare you. 

“How come you’ve never sung like that for me entle?” 

You chuckled softly, you had already seen Shuri’s shadow so she didn’t alarm you when she finally decided to speak. “You should be in bed.” 

“You should sing more often.” 

You turned around and gave Shuri a look that only made her chuckle this time. She stepped out onto the balcony and sat down on the mat next to you. She leaned her head on your shoulder and you allowed it to rest there for a moment, savoring the sweet moment of silence between you and your love. 

“Did he really tell you we were coming?” You noticed how whenever Shuri brought up her brother her voice got quiet as if she worried saying his name too loudly would disturb his memory. 

You took Shuri’s hand in yours and interlaced your fingers. “Mhm, he always seems to bring you to me doesn't he.” 

Shuri let out a small puff of air in agreement with what you said. “Can you tell me what it feels like again?” 

You had answered this question for Shuri many times, trying to explain to her what it felt like when not only T’Challa spoke to you but any ancestor did. Any regular person would have found it annoying to continually answer the same question but you felt no burden obliging Shuri, especially when it was just you two being bathed in moonlight. 

“With T’Challa he comes to me like a breeze, a warm summer breeze. He’s always brief, never staying for too long, just passing by and staying long enough to feel his presence.” You thought for a moment about how you could further describe what T’Challa’s company felt like to you but no more words came to you so you just wrapped your arm around Shuri’s waist and pulled her close to you. You pressed a kiss to Shuri’s cheek and gave her a sweet smile. “Thank you.” She said and you nodded, not needing any thanks at that moment, just happy you could give her some amount of peace of mind. 

As you two sat there intertwined in each other and your own thoughts a breeze passed over you, smelling distinctly of sandalwood and ginger. A small nod from T’Challa signifying you had done well, you looked over at Shuri, and judging by the smile on her face you guessed she had felt it too. 

[crimeronan]

turning off reblogs bc we were able to get the car fixed!! ty everyone!!

god okay. i wish i was NOT constantly having to keep you guys updated on various life struggles. at the very least, i’m Extremely Hopeful that this is the last post i’ll need to make to this end for a while -- my rheumatology referral is finally sorted, so i’m just waiting for them to call me to schedule me in, and then i Should finally have some control over the medical emergency i’ve been trapped inside for. months.

i’m on medicaid so i don’t need financial help with medical bills (THANK GOD). however, my car just died. it needs a new starter and my mechanic has quoted me around $870 for the cost of parts and labor. i was able to use the help you guys gave me last time to get caught up on bills and to have my engine tuned, so i’m hopeful that this fix will keep my car running properly for the next few years.

it’s very very very important that i fix my car -- i can use public transit to get to the grocery store and to my main doctor’s office without much trouble, but the bloodwork lab & specialist doctors & my partners’ doctors & other stores are further away and more difficult to access. in theory, i CAN still do it, but chronic fatigue and crippling mobility problems make long trips on public transit infeasible. and obviously lyfts/ubers are extremely expensive when i’m already below the poverty line.

i’m happy to expand more on my financial and health situations if anybody needs more info, i’m just trying to keep this post concise. i don’t want anyone to overtax themselves donating to me, i know pretty much everyone is struggling. if you DO have a couple bucks to spare, everything will go toward repairing my car. literally anything helps and i’m immeasurably grateful for the help i’ve received in the past.

i’m also spending tonight reaching out to old job clients and getting my fiverr profile set up for a better / more consistent client pool. i haven’t been able to work as much as usual because of the aforementioned health problems AND because AI articles have really eaten into my usual client base. but i promise i’m doing my best to keep my head above water. my dream is to get back to a place where i can be the one donating to my friends instead of asking them for help ;-;

thanks for reading and thank you all for the support -- not just now but over the past several years of hashtag Struggle. it means So Much, i don’t have words to express how much it means.

venmo: @Katherine-MacEachern

paypal: paypal.me/kitkatmkath

ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/elliptical

AND i just got direct tipping set up on this blog if it’s easier not to leave tumblr!

[flowersforbucky]

Do you have any general advice for someone who wants to post their writing but is scared to? I write a lot. But I have never posted on tumblr or anywhere else. I don't know why but I'm so nervous to.

had to add a keep reading link because i ended up rambling way more than i originally intended to 😅 sorry if this isn't helpful or isn't the kind of answer you were looking for but here's a summary of my experience with writing/posting on tumblr and some general tips -

i completely understand being nervous. i feel nervous every time i post my writing. i'm always worried that people won't like it, that it'll flop, etc. when i first tried posting bucky fanfiction about 5 years ago, and when i posted eddie munson fanfiction a couple years ago, just about everything i posted performed really poorly. i had a couple pieces that did alright but for the most part, just about everything flopped. and it was very discouraging, i would let it get to me too much for sure - i'd wonder how other people got their work to get so many notes so easily when nothing i did seemed to help.

so when i started writing/posting for bucky again a few months ago i was really nervous, since i hadn't had much luck in the past. i decided to give it a shot anyway, and told myself that i'm doing this for fun, and if people like what i put out then great, and if not then i wouldn't let it get to me because at the end of the day i'm doing this for myself, because i want to.

everything i've posted for bucky the last few months has surpassed my expectations, truthfully. i don't really know why all of my one-shots have performed so much better this time around than when i first tried to write for him back in 2019 - maybe my writing has improved? maybe i'm just getting lucky and posting at the right times? maybe it's the fact that i write more smut than i used to and the fandom seems to love that? maybe a little bit of all of those things? i'm not 100% sure, but i'm happy to give you some tips that i think work for me, at least.

also disclaimer i definitely don't think i've been doing this long enough or am a "big enough" writer within this community to even be giving advice LMAO but since you asked!!

i usually post on wednesday or friday evenings and i've had good interaction on both of those days, however fridays have been the best and i think i will be sticking to friday evening posts for the most part in the future

i usually post between 7:00 - 10:00 pm eastern time, most often around 9:00 pm - if the time you post doesn't seem to work well, try a different time with the next post

tags tags tags! add the most relevant tags first, and avoid adding tags that are irrelevant. so when i post for bucky i add tags such as the following: bucky barnes x reader, bucky x reader, bucky barnes, bucky barnes x you, bucky barnes smut, etc

write a brief summary for the piece that will draw people in but not give tooooo much away. also always give appropriate warnings

use the "keep reading" feature. to be completely honest, if someone posts something that's 500+ words and they don't use the keep reading feature, i'm instantly going to get annoyed that it's clogging up the feed and scroll past it lol. i personally like to insert the "keep reading" link a couple paragraphs into my fic so that people can read the first tiny bit of it and (hopefully) be interested enough to click the link and keep reading.

don't be afraid to reach out to other writers in your fandom and initiate friendships. i know this can be super intimidating because they usually already have mutuals that they are close with but what's the worst that can happen with trying? most people here love making new friends/mutuals and want to be supportive of new writers, though i know it doesn't always feel like that. not everyone that i've followed/interacted with has followed me back but a lot have!

tease snippets of upcoming fics before posting them (and make sure to add a bunch of tags so more people see) to help people get excited, draw in new followers, etc. pick a few lines of dialogue, or a specific paragraph or whatever, that you're particularly proud of and screenshot/copy & paste it and post it and basically say hey here's a snippet of an upcoming fic! i don't always do this but i like to on occasion

lastly, and this piece of advice won't necessarily help your writing perform well notes wise, but i think it's important to remember: write and post what YOU want to write and post. this is a hobby, this is supposed to be fun, and you are not getting paid for this. if you don't want to write smut, DON'T write it just because it's popular and you feel like you have to. if you don't want to write reader inserts and prefer OCs, then write an OC. if you prefer writing one-shots and drabbles over multi-part series, then write one-shots and drabbles! of course readers are going to have their preferences and that's fine, i have my preferences when it comes to reading fanfiction as well, but it's not your job to appeal to every reader out there. it's your job to enjoy this hobby as much as you can and write things that you're proud of.

[pennyblossom-meta]

I just wanted to say that I love your fanfic Ideas in April, I even read the side story, it’s amazing I cannot wait for more

Hello kind reader! I was very much blown away by your message and comments on the DN analysis posts! Thank you so much for reading and engaging, it means the world to me <3

The next chapter for The Ides of April (TIoA) should be posted in the next couple of weeks, if everything goes well. Work and my tendonitis sometimes make it difficult to write.

I'm also happy to announce that Shi, Ku (4, 9) is also getting its next (and last chapter) sometime after TIoA chp:3 gets released.

As a personal thank you, here's a draft for the next chapter of TIoA that I posted on Tumblr a while ago.

And here's a snippet (but still a draft! some things might yet change) for the next chapter of Shi, Ku that's currently being written:

(...) While Anna is looking up at the ceiling and musing about the best ways to make a strategic exit, — she opens the button on her left sleeve just so, making enough room between herself and the edge of the table so she can whip out her wand and bolt somewhere to Apparate, should it be necessary — the door swings open with a groan that sends a shiver down her spine.  She glances at the thin box the police officer is carrying; whats-its-name is on the tip of her tongue, she has a bigger one of its kind at the apartment, a better one without a doubt that she brought from Britain. Perhaps this NPA is underfunded and this was the best they could scrape off the bottom of the barrel in such a short time.  With fingers interlocked on her lap, she observes how the device is placed in the middle of the table, at an angle of about 45º. Once open, the panel inside is dark but shiny. She cocks her head to the side, confused. “Hm, sir?” Anna follows the officer with her eyes as he sits further down on the side of the table. Within sight of the device. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”  Just as the officer opens his mouth to reply, the entire screen goes white. Anna jumps in her seat, eyes wide as saucers when a black calligraphy ‘L’ appears with a flash, overpowering the display. She stares at it with her mouth slightly ajar and clutches her bag closer to her middle, hearing the newspaper inside crinkle and rustle in the quiet room. “Greetings, Miss Green. Officer Moji tells us you’ve important information to share about the Kira case.” Right down to business, just like Naomi mentioned. “You’re a letter,” Anna states outright, pointing her index finger at the screen. She touches it right in the middle, a baffled frown scrunching up her nose while the police officer regards her warily from his seat, like she’s insane. “And your voice sounds like it’s been put through a meat grinder. She never told me you’d be talking to me through a letter in a machine.” “And who is ‘she’?”  “Naomi Misora,” she tells the giant ‘L’ floating on the screen, giving the blinking green light at the top of the monitor a brief glance. “We’ve been trying to find a suitable way to contact you since early February, but we couldn't risk doing this without a plan." The silence that follows is tense; it drags on, perhaps longer than Anna can perceive as she fiddles with the hem of her sleeve, fingernails grazing the threads on softly embroidered chrysanthemum. She can feel the police officer’s eyes on her and wonders if he’s assessing just how high a threat she might be. Anna takes a deep breath. “Look, I think I’d better start by telling you this: something rather nasty happened to Naomi on New Year’s day that caused her irreversible damage. If I’m not with her every day at 4:44 in the morning and the afternoon she will die of a heart attack.” “What event was this?” came the immediate response.  “I — I don’t know. At first we thought it was some kind of curse, or that she had come into possession of an item that was hexed, but the situation took so many twists and turns it became unrecognisable  — even by our standards. You see, I found Naomi going into the train station when I was shopping for clothes in Ginza that day; I noticed there was something wrong because she seemed unfocused; strangely so.” There’s silence, so Anna proceeds. (...)

Thank you once again, hope you have a wonderful week!

[shakespearefreak]

🎂 Happy Birthday, Samantha! 🎂

(Even though we actually celebrated her birthday a day early because the weather forecast said it was going to rain all day on the 26th, I somehow STILL managed to be a week late posting this, eep)

For Samantha’s birthday this year, we went back to Olbrich Gardens for another picnic! 🌸 (Initially, we were going to be joined by someone from one of my doll groups on Facebook, but because we rescheduled due to the rain, she wasn’t able to come after all. 😕 Ah well, next time.) Sam and Nellie attracted some attention: at one point, a passerby told me that while I’d been lost in taking the perfect photo of their picnic, a rabbit 🐇 had gotten quite close to us until their group had approached and accidentally scared it away. A little later, a very nice older fellow stopped and asked me if I was telling a story. I said yes, surprised and pleased he’d understood so immediately what I was doing, and he asked me questions about what the girls were doing, and gave me some really helpful photography tips when I expressed frustration at how my earlier photos were turning out. It was very cool.

This time Marley managed to get a shot of Samantha sitting on the pillar inscribed with her creator’s name!

After walking around a bit, we found a grassy spot and set up the picnic. There was strawberry cake 🍰 with vanilla icing, a small dish of tea cakes, and a large pitcher of ice-cold pink lemonade (which was very welcome on the warm day!). Even Jip had a rawhide bone 🦴 to gnaw, though you can’t see it here. Nellie raised her glass in a toast: “To Samantha — the most caring, generous, and wonderful person I know, and the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Happy Birthday!”

Samantha felt her gift through the wrapping. “It must be a book!” She sounded more excited than some children might be at the prospect of a book as a birthday present; she loved to read, and was eager to see what the title would turn out to be. 📗

“Peter and Wendy! Oh, I love this one!” Sam cried out happily.

“I know,” Marley returned with a grin. “It’s one of my absolute favorites too.”

“I can’t wait to re-read it! I’m going to start tonight,” Samantha said. “Thank you so much!”

Jip came over to investigate what all the fuss was about. Samantha stuck the white gift bow on his head over one floppy ear, giggling. Jip put up with this with unaccustomed patience for a few moments, then shook his head vigorously, flapping his ears and knocking the bow to the grass, to the amusement of everyone.

True to her word, as soon as Samantha was in her nightgown and slippers, she snuggled up with her teddy bear (last year’s birthday gift) in Marley’s bed with her new book and began to read. As Samantha followed the adventures of Peter Pan, the Lost Boys, and Captain Hook, Marley was lost in their own (somewhat darker 😂) novel, The Dark Half by Stephen King.

When Marley looked over a bit later after finishing the latest chapter detailing Thad Beaumont’s Jekyll-and-Hyde situation with his “dark half” George Stark, Samantha was slumped over, still holding her new book loosely in one hand, fast asleep and dreaming of Neverland. ✨

(Also, yes, I know the book should be the other way around; I didn’t realize that until it was too late to fix it! 😅)

BONUS: A few doll-less photos of the Gardens:

[hoffstrap-yuri]

A Sweet Surprise

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Lindsey excitedly told her partner, Petra, about a new bakery. They go to investigate. Simple as that.

*Rating: E for Everyone

*Content/Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Genderbending, Gender or Sex Swap, Female Hoffstrahm, Female Coffinshipping, Fem Hoffman (Maureen Hoffman), Fem Strahm (Petra Strahm), WLW Hoffstrahm, WLW Coffinshipping

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

Author's Note: For a lovely anon who asked for Fem!Hoffstrahm in a rom-com scenario. I was waffling back and forth about what kind of au I wanted for them, before ultimately deciding on a bakery au. Also needed a happy au where Angie lives because... why not? Hope you enjoy! Also posting this because Saw XI got pushed back another year, so let's just pretend that that didn't happen and have happy fun times here!

“C’mon, we gotta try it.” Perez rested her head on the tips of her fingers as she pleaded with her co-worker, Petra, to go with her to a bakery.

“Do we have to?” The other woman pushed back her bangs

“It’s new… newish. Okay, new to me, but new nonetheless.” Perez explained, “It just looks so good from the tart that I saw on Rodger’s desk that I asked her where she got it from and she told me about this place. A patisserie. Outside of Manhattan. I’m sure there’s decent parking.”

“Well you know me,” Strahm huffed, “I hate parking in Manhattan.”

“Exactly.” Perez threw her hands in front of her, “Which is why we should go check this place out.”

“Alright fine. What are their hours?”

“I’d have to ask Rodgers. Or we could do a drive by this afternoon.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Fine let’s go do a drive by.”

“You’re the best.” Perez flashed her co-worker with a pair of finger guns. Petra looked at her younger co-worker with a mild disdain before cracking a smile. After all, she was one of Petra’s best friends. After about a half an hour of actual work Petra pushed her work off to the side and reached behind her for her coat.

“C’mon, it’s been a day.” She motioned towards the office door. Lindsey dropped what she was working on and followed behind the senior agent, getting into Petra’s car. Sure it was Petra’s car, but when Lindsey was in it, it was her car. The music changed from a ‘classic rock’ channel to a more contemporary pop station. Lindsey liked to keep the windows in the car cracked open when the weather allowed, much to Strahm’s seasonal allergy’s dismay. “You know where this place is?”

“Yeah.” Perez replied, lifting her feet up onto the dash for a second, before getting a disapproving look from her partner. She put her feet back down and offered the address to Petra, who started the car. “So…”

“So what Linds?”

“How did the date go last weekend?”

“Didn’t sleep over, if that’s what you’re asking. You should know better than anyone a woman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“She was pretty.” Lindsay shrugged, “How long had you been trying to set up a date with her?”

“Couple of weeks. She was too bubbly. Like I was dating an older you.” Strahm shrugged, getting an eye-roll from Lindsey. “What, what, what are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing.” Lindsay laughed as her coworker pulled up to a parking spot next to the bakery. It was street parking, which Strahm wasn’t a fan of but at least it was better than trying to find parking in the village. The outside of the business had an almost a sickly amount of pink in the branding. Strahm wanted to gag. Lindsay first stepped into the business cautiously, taking a look at the pastry display cases. When Strahm entered, she heard the bell ring over her head. Her eyes grew wide at the rows and rows of pastries, cakes, and even some chocolate at the end by the register. It looked like something Petra had seen when she studied abroad.

“Hi!” A little girl stood on the other side of the counter with a bright smile. She couldn’t have been more than ten the way her two front teeth were missing as she smiled at the potential customers.

“Hi.” Perez smiled back at her. It was quiet for a second before Lindsey asked her, “What’s your favorite thing here?”

“Hmm…” The girl thought for a moment before walking over to the pastry case closest to the two agents. “This one. It has a fancy name, but it’s really just a chocolate cake.”

“Oh that does look good.” Perez squatted in front of the display case, watching where she pointed, “I’ll definitely think I’ll be getting one of those.”

“Okay. Anything else?” She looked up with the cutest eyes that made Petra want to buy everything in the store.

“Marissa!” A woman’s voice called from the back before shuffling up to the counter, placing her hands on the child’s shoulders. “Sweetie, why don’t you get back to your homework, mama can help the customers. Okay?”

“Okay.” The girl shrugged her mom’s hands off of her and walked to the back sullenly

“Sorry about her.” The woman tucked her hair behind her ears, “I was trying to wrangle my other kids in the back… she must’ve heard the bell before I did.”

“Oh it’s fine.” Petra accepted the other woman’s apology. The mother smiled softly at her with a ‘thanks for understanding’ in her look.

“Anyway, was there anything I can get for you right away? Anything you need explanations on? Allergy information? Unfortunately I can’t lie and say nothing in here has zero calories.” She laughed at her own joke. Petra tucked her hair behind an ear too as she did everything in her power to not also laugh at the awful mom joke. Lindsey stood behind her and gave her a look before stepping up the counter to start ordering,

“Can I get one slice of the gateau au chocolat?” She asked politely, pointing at the glass

“Oh definitely, that’s my daughter’s favorite.” The woman smiled and started folding together a box to put the cake in. A taller, bigger woman stepped out from the back, holding the other woman’s daughter in her arms and pressed a kiss onto her cheek. The little girl giggled and hugged the woman’s neck. “Maureen. I just told her to get back to her homework.”

“It’s fine, she’ll get back to it in a minute.” The woman, Maureen, hummed. Strahm bit her lip as she stared at the other woman. She looked… stunning with her neat white uniform. The other woman’s eyes caught Petra’s gaze and she returned the smile with a quick wink. Petra broke the contact between the two of them and ran her hands over her head to pull her hair back. “Can I help you with something?”

“Huh?” Strahm looked up at her. After putting the girl down, Maureen leaned onto the glass, putting her weight onto her elbow as she looked at her customer.

“Mara. I’ve got this. Don’t you have dishes to do?”

“They can soak for another minute.”

“Forgive my sister.” The shorter woman sighed, “She’s the owner of this place, and I’m just her lowly assistant.”

“You’re more than that, Angie.” Maureen frowned, “You’re my business partner.”

“Anyway… I’ve got this at least I’ve got one of their orders.”

“Then I can help our other customer. You need help, just let me know.”

“Got it. I can wait until your sister’s free with my partner.”

“Partner?” Maureen raised an eyebrow

“Oh don’t worry, she’s not a cradle-robber.” Perez interjected. Strahm shot her a look in between wanting to die on the spot, “We just work together.”

“Okay.” Maureen laughed a little bit. She rested her head on her fist as Perez kept browsing through the display case. Strahm shoved her hands inside the tiny pocket of her pants suit outfit and balled the fabric up in between her fists. A timer went off from the back and the large woman removed herself from the counter, walking off to go grab whatever was in the oven. Strahm tried everything in her power to not look at the white shirt as it clung to the woman’s back. Strahm let air escape from her barely opened mouth as the woman entered the kitchen. Both Perez and Angie looked at each other for a second before getting back to the transaction at hand. Angie rung Perez up before approaching Strahm.

“Anything I can get for you?”

“Um… what’s your favorite here?” Strahm asked, easing the tension in her fingers

“Oh,” Angie smiled and placed her forefinger on her chin. “Well I mean you can’t go wrong with the opera cake. That’s probably Maureen’s favorite if you asked her. Though she does make a really good macaron. Actually her rosewater ones are a new seasonal option she’s trying this year… so I’d definitely go with those.”

“Okay… one… no,” Strahm hesitated, “What size boxes do you have?”

“Six and twelve.” Angie replied with a smile

“And what other flavors?”

“So this one here’s going to be a chocolate-hazelnut… and this blue one is going to be a cotton candy, whereas this green one’s pistachio…”

“Just one of everything is fine. Except, I’ll take an extra pistachio instead of the cotton candy one. Please.”

“Got you.”

“And… one of those opera cake slices.”

“Sure thing…” She built another box for the slice, “Anything else?” Strahm stumbled for a minute before the baker stepped back out of her kitchen. Strahm looked past her sister and at the woman as she took the white shirt off, tossing it into the linen bag resting next to the door leading to the alleyway. Petra’s nose nearly started bleeding as she saw the way her arms were built. Thick with a soft layer of fat over it, but still definitely enough muscle to probably lift Strahm over her shoulder like she was a purse. Did she know she had a captive audience as she flexed her back muscles and worked the tension from the day out of her shoulders? She felt fingers hit the side of her arm as she was snapped back to attention.

“Um that’s it for today.” Strahm replied, not daring to make eye contact with Angie after ogling her sister the way she had been

“Great, I’ll get you rung up then.” Angie smiled and punched the buttons a couple of times before coming up with a total. Strahm handed her her credit card and Angie was more than happy to run it. Maureen started undoing her braid and letting the soft brown hair fall onto her shoulder.

“Throw in a cookie for both of them.” Maureen said, tucking a hand into her slack pocket, “I’ve got fresh chocolate chips cooling in the kitchen. So long as the kids didn’t steal them already.”

“Thanks.” Perez smiled at the owner

“You’re welcome. Hope to see you two again soon.” She smiled back at the agents before ducking out and running upstairs

“Cute place.” Strahm mumbled under her breath

“Yeah. It’s always been Maureen’s dream.” Angelina smiled, “She went to culinary school and decided to come home and set this place up, and I was recovering from the twins… not a lot of places would’ve hired me.”

“That’s nice of her.” Perez nodded along with Angie. “We’ll definitely be back soon.”

“Thank you, that’s the best thing we can ask for. Give me a second and I’ll get you those cookies.” Angie started walking back into the kitchen. Lindsey laughed at Strahm as her co-worker started batting her arm with the palm of her hands.

“You like her!” Lindsey laughed, drawing out the word ‘like’

“I do not.”

“Girl, even her sister saw you eyeing her up.”

“Just shut up, she can probably hear us in the kitchen!” She wanted so badly to tack on a ‘dumb-ass’ at the end of her statement, but was worried about Angie hearing the two of them fight.

“Fine, fine.” Lindsey rocked back and forth on her tip toes, enjoying mildly embarrassing her co-worker. Angie returned with two cookies in sleeves that she stowed into Strahm’s bag before handing it off to the customer

“See you again soon!” She waved as the two left the bakery and Strahm ducked quickly back into her car, taking off once Perez was in her seat.

---

“Did you have to do that?” Angie threw a magazine at her sister’s head. Maureen blocked it with her hands and threw a pillow back at her sister in revenge

“She’s so pretty, Angie…” She stared down as Strahm’s car pulled away from the parking stall. She bit down on her lip and flopped onto the couch before taking the other couch pillow and screaming into it. Angie offered a quick pat on Maureen’s shoulder in support. “Like so pretty…”

“I know.” She sighed, “She was looking you up pretty hard too.”

“No she was definitely looking at my pastries.”

“No, I know she wasn’t.” Angie rolled her eyes at her over-dramatic sister. She sat down next to Maureen and hugged her. Maureen freed herself from the grips of the pillow and gave her sister a proper hug. “Listen, her and her co-worker said they’d come back. Why don’t you make a move next time they come?”

“And what if she said no?”

“I’ll give her the ugliest looking macaron.” Angie said with all sincerity

“You’re the best baby sister.”

“I know I am.”

“So how do you think I should go about it?”

“Just… ask her if she wants to come upstairs and watch a movie with you.”

“Or we could go out for dinner.”

“Or you could go out for dinner.” Angie repeated, “You’ve got this.”

“I’ve got this.” Maureen repeated before groaning and hiding under her pillow once more, “I don’t got this.”

---

The bell rang and Maureen’s new favorite customer walked in. She leaned against the counter for a moment before being greeted once more by the little girl.

“Hi Miss.” She smiled at Strahm

“Hi.” Strahm smiled back at her, “Is your aunt here?”

“She’s doing some cleaning. Told me to stay out of her kitchen.”

“It’s probably pretty dangerous back there. I’m sure she’s just worried about you.”

“Yeah.” She kicked at the floor as she looked down at her feet. Her mom came out a couple of moments later and picked up her daughter,

“Hi Petra.” Angelina greeted her, “How have you and Lindsey been?”

“Doing good. We’ve been up to our ears in paperwork though, so I thought I’d get her a treat.”

“Well thanks for coming here. Is there anything in particular you want for her?”

“Yeah one of those strawberry tart things look good.”

“Absolutely.” Angie smiled before her sister stepped out from the kitchen. When Maureen saw Strahm she tried to shuffle back into the kitchen, only for her sister get a hold of her baker’s shirt and pull her over to interact with Petra. Petra started nervously tucking her hair behind her ears as Hoffman popped the button on her shirt before threading it back through the hole. This continued for awhile while Angie helped Strahm. The boys, who Petra had learned were named Will and Lucas, came barreling out of the back. Maureen pulled one boy away while Angie got the other, it seemed like this was a normal occurrence in Maureen’s bakery. Strahm hid a smile as Maureen gently scolded her nephew before turning him around and letting him run into the office area. Meanwhile, her sister held onto her son by the collar of his shirt. After getting a promise from her son that he’d behave this time, she let him free before returning to help Petra.

“Sorry about them.” Maureen apologized, leaning next to her sister as Angie punched in the codes

“No, it’s fine. They’re cute.”

“Thanks. You want to try babysitting them sometime?” Angie offered

“No, I’m not that good with kids, but I’m sure Lindsey would like to… not that I’m offering for her.” Strahm backtracked a little. Maureen looked at her with a grin and she darted her eyes away from the object of her affection. Affection? Was that the right word for the little relationship between customer and owner? It didn’t really matter, Strahm shoved her credit card towards Angie and started to walk out. Angie pushed her hefty sister towards Strahm before turning around and stepping into the office.

“Maureen?” Petra paused

“Um… you can say no if you want, because let’s be honest you don’t really know me…”

“Oh.”

“No that’s not what I want you to get from this,” Maureen scrunched her fists up as she stumbled over the words to say, “I… want to ask you out on a date.”

“Me?” Strahm started choking on the air she inhaled. After regaining her composure, “Um. Yeah, sure. When would you want to go out?”

“Um… you want to go up to my place now?”

“Yeah, let me just… Do you have parking in the back so I don’t get towed?”

“Yeah, just next to the crown royal in the back should be fine.” Hoffman bit her lip as Strahm walked out to her car and brought her car around back. She was afraid for a second that Strahm was going to leave her at the bakery and never come back… but then she heard a knock on the back door. She ran across the bakery floor and opened the door for Petra before tossing her uniform into the laundry bag and guiding the other woman up the stairs and to her apartment. She cracked the door open slightly and threw herself onto her couch. She sprawled herself across the furniture, noticing that Petra didn’t sit down on her own

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

“You mind if sit next to you?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Maureen scooped herself up and opened a space next to her, patting the now open area. Petra sat next to her and crossed her leg. “Want anything for dinner? It’s not just the culinary school, I’m a pretty good cook.”

“I’m fine…” Petra started, “But thank you.”

“Okay. We could also get take-out, if that fits you more.”

“We can think about it later.”

“Later?” Maureen laughed, “Just how long are you going to stay?”

“As long as I feel like it… at least for tonight.” Petra started, before promptly shoving her foot in her mouth. She didn’t want to presume how long she was allowed to be there

“And if I told you…” Maureen swept a piece of Petra’s hair off her shoulder, “If I told you I don’t want you to leave anytime soon?”

“I…” Strahm began to stutter. Rather than say another word, she hooked her leg around Hoffman’s lap and pulled at the undershirt. Maureen paused for a moment before Petra’s lips met with hers and she put one of her big calloused hands on the small of Strahm’s back. “I’d like that.”

“You want to stay forever? You might become Marissa’s favorite aunt.”

“Shut up.” She kissed Hoffman once more. Hoffman pulled her closer and held her flush against her body. Strahm’s hair dangled in Maureen’s face while they sucked face for a moment

“You’re so pretty.” Maureen’s hand reached up for Petra’s cheek and run the back of her thumb over it

“I’ve been staring at you since I saw you the first time I came to the bakery.”

“I’ve been staring back at you.” Hoffman smirked, “I’d get so happy every time you came in…”

“Shut up.” Petra kissed her again

“You seem to like telling me to shut up a lot. Even more so when I say something sappy.” Maureen’s hands rested on Petra’s hips

“I… Yeah, maybe I do.”

“Don’t worry, I like it.” Maureen leaned into Strahm’s space and pressed her lips onto Petra’s cheek, “I could stare at you all night like this.”

“It’d be a waste of you time.” Strahm bickered for bicker’s sake

“And I’d happily waste those seconds, minutes, hours or days for you.” Maureen replied lazily, her thumbs rubbing circles around Petra’s hips. Petra purred softly as she hooked her arms around Maureen’s neck

“Sh…”

“Got you, Agent.” Maureen’s smirk grew, “Now seriously, what do you want for dinner?”

“Chinese is fine.” Strahm replied, hiding her blush behind her bangs. She got off Hoffman’s lap and let the other woman get up. Maureen strolled across the room and grabbed the landline before punching in a number.

“Anything special?” She asked

“Whatever you wants fine. I’m not picky.” Strahm replied, stretching out a little on the couch

“You’ve got it.”

[astr0disiac]

⚠️IMPORTANT UPDATE⚠️

People have told me that I don't owe anyone an explanation, but I hate going back on my word.

Hurricane Helene and Milton have displaced me and my family drastically. Thanks to some friends in high places, I have been able to find some stability again while our house is under construction. They know who they are, and I am forever grateful. And because of midterms being thrown off, I've had to throw myself into my studies while simultaneously getting my house in order. I had to pick up other jobs because my other one was completely closed after the storm due to renovations. So I do apologize for the wait, it wasn't supposed to be this long. I am safe, so there's that!

As a treat, I will be posting BLOOD ON THE TRACKS, starting October 26th-31st to celebrate the last few days of the spooky month. There are only 5 chapters, but the last one may be an authors note, or and extra day in case I fall behind again. They will be posted at 10PM EST.

In terms of MISTY, it will be put on hiatus as BLOOD ON THE TRACKS has become my priority. The good news is that I can use some of my experience with the storm to finish writing! The bad news is that I may not be able to MISTY before the new year. I really wanted to finalize it by it's one year anniversary, but that may not happen. There are only 3 chapters left, but I'm trying to tie up themes and loose ends so that the ending is cohesive and makes sense. I was going to post the next chapter last week, but I've been so unhappy with it, and felt it was way too short compared to other chapters. It wouldn't have been satisfying for either party, and I would rather take my time and produce something I'm proud of than rush to make readers happy. It will most likely be posted in November. That being said, TIANAMI TUESDAY'S will also be on hiatus while I play catch up. Hopefully everything will be back to normal by December, and the new Tianami story I'm working on will be posted in the new year *wink*. That is the plan, but life is unpredictable. I won't make any concrete promises, but know that I am doing my best to create content for yall.

Kinktober is obviously cancelled which works for me because I didn't really want to do it. Requests are open for any writing prompts to make up for it! If I do end up posting the few that I have, it will be on AO3 so that I can backdate it and make it look like I'm a consistent author. I may do another month challenge, because they truly are fun, but this month is a no. I do apologize for that! Maybe next year.

I'm so sorry for all these problems and apologies, and I will make it up to you all. I simply ask for a bit of understanding as I try and return to normalcy.

In the mean time, please enjoy this excerpt from BLOOD ON THE TRACKS.

Every time Tiana grew near, Nanami felt strange.

No, it wasn’t the presence of bashfulness usually found in juvenile couples, they had been married for five years now, and dated in high school. There was nothing to be shy about.

And no, it wasn’t an intense desire that lurked in more sentimental moods, not even with Tiana’s lingering finger tips ghosting over his warm body in the cool of the night.

That’s what made the feeling even stranger.

It was dark.

It was plain odd.

Nanami had a very keen sense of discernment when it came to the beings beyond; he had retired from a life of sorcery 3 years ago, but to Tiana he had simply retired early from a day job as a regular salaryman. He couldn’t divulge her into such dangers, being together was already a risk in itself. Not to mention, Tiana was very superstitious and had a certain level of discernment of her own. While she called them “loa”, Nanami knew them as cursed spirits. Some may call them demons, ghosts, phantoms, the paranormal; they were all very similar by how they interacted with the physical realm.

And that was usually by causing some sort of mischief and a sense of despair.

An influx of cursed spirits had begun to infiltrate their home, hiding in dark corners or shaded areas, skirting around the borders and slithering under their floorboards. It would wake Tiana up at night in a frenzy, and while the spiritual cleansing she did with her sage and incense helped, it didn’t permanently rid themselves of the problem. So Nanami, who didn’t even break his exorcism streak to help the daunted citizens on the streets of New Orleans, found himself back on the clock around the clock. When he decided to move here with Tiana, he knew he was bound to run into those fleshless beings, he just never expected them to run amuck in his own home.

Especially to this extent.

Thank you for your support! See you soon!

[clonerightsagenda]

i would love to hear anything more about communications director minkowski that you would care to share, it sounds like a very fun route for postcanon! 👀

It IS very fun. In lieu of writing a coherent post I just spent quite a bit of time scrolling through 3 years of discord messages for good tidbits:

Gill spent part of my day wondering “you know you’d expect Lovelace to have some Loud And Pointed Opinions about Minkowski being offered the post of Communications Director but maybe instead she’d be the first to figure out there’s no better way to dismantle the company than from the inside out” Kat If you want a job done wrong you gotta do it yourself Gill Minkowski: They… want me to be the next director… and I think I’m going to take the job. Lovelace: …actually. That sounds like an amazing idea. Minkowski: Minkowski: who are you and what have you done with Captain Lovelace Kat Careful Renee. That joke has a bit of an edge to it Gill Nobody’s getting out of post-flight quarantine without an identity crisis of some kind it seems Kate I bet Lovelace would jump at the chance to have a woman on the inside… who has a lot of practice ruining Goddard's plans. Gill Lovelace, probably: You’re gonna need your own version of Cutter’s hypercompetent Right Hand Minion, and it seems to me that the person who kept him distracted while you put a harpoon through his torso would be the ideal candidate. Lovelace: Also, it’d be fun to deface Kepler’s old office.

*

Kat was thinking about Minkowski marriage drama in the context of her voluntarily signing on to be comms director under the same contract as the last one fully aware this means everyone will try to kill her just in case she can keep everyone else safe and then having to explain that to her husband tfw your wife never prioritizes you bc she's too busy prioritizing a) dying in space b) dying on land now Gill Dominik Koudelka, maybe: it just feels like I have to get myself kidnapped by shadowy corporate goons if I want to spend time with you!

*

Kate Communications Director Minkowski 1) definitely publishes her own adapted fifth edition of the Survival Manual that’s not a joke and full of useful things and 2) mostly inspired by things Eiffel did that his justification was “well no one ever TOLD me this would happen in space!” Gill “Leprechauns are not real. Ghosts, however, are.” “In the unlikely but theoretically possible event that leprechauns are discovered at some point in the near future, disregard previous. It’s important to keep an open mind.” Kate Adaptability! Flexibility! Priorities! Acknowledgement that space is full of unpredictable and incomprehensible bullshit! The spirit of the new space age Gill Tip #1002: You may say “fuck”. Once.

*

Kat thought: re Goddard possibly having prison labor going on, maybe when they got Eiffel out of jail they just transferred his sentence to them, and Comms Director Minkowski finds out she technically owns two of her crewmates now and isn't super happy about it Eiffel: so for the next 23 years my ass is yours I guess Minkowski: I don't want it Minkowski, sifting through paperwork: why… why do I own prison laborers now? Can I pardon them? What is this news anchor voice: Goddard Futuristics stocks dipped today as new director Renee Minkowski gave the entirety of their asteroid mining staff early release, quoted as saying "Go home. The fuck." Gill Comms Director Minkowski like ok first off we’re actually giving our workers benefits Kat we'll reroute some of the money headed toward all the R&D for evil shit Gill we’re also defunding our paramilitary branches. Why do we even have those?? Kat Jacobi, raising hand: To do stuff like break into Elon Musk's Mars colony and take him out with extreme prejudice Lovelace: ok that one sounds justified actually Gill Lovelace: Can I go fuck up Elon Musk’s stupid libertarian summer camp? Minkowski: Later, I need you here right now. Lovelace: Aw, ok. ): Kate Okay project Fuck Up Elon Musk can stay

*

Kat underappreciated aspect of the comms director Minkowski concept: DC girl Minkowski finds out she now owns like 75% of the politicians on Capitol Hill. Is not sure how to stop owning them It's like feeding wild animals, they keep coming back for your money even when you try to cut off the lobbying Gill Minkowski: next time a senator shows up at my house I’m siccing Lovelace on them Kat Minkowski: Cutter had an entire budget line for funding ballot initiatives and…. wow, that's a lot. Hey Doug, what are your thoughts on felons being able to vote? Eiffel: Felons can't vote? Minkowski: …. yes?? Eiffel: Oh. Huh. I don't ever vote so I didn't notice. And I see from your expression that you don't approve of this.

*

Gill Comms Director!Minkowski: If you need me, I’ll be in a meeting. /crawls into the vents Kat Local unions still talk about the super weird HVAC remodeling the new director insisted on

*

Gill You are an astronautical engineer at Goddard Futuristics’ special projects division. You were handpicked by the special projects manager herself to work on this new prototype. The craft you and your colleagues poured untold hours of work into is commandeered by Warren Kepler, Legendary Local Douchebag, and two of his minions (an entire ship! For three people!!) to go off and babysit one of your boss’s boss’s ultra-secret pet projects, which you quietly believe is actually an elaborate fraud scheme of some kind. You rage at this. Then, you mourn. Perhaps you drink heavily. Either way, you move on, setting aside your quiet hope that the Urania one day re-enters terrestrial skies, but gradually making peace with the idea you may never see this particular fruit of your labor again. And then a year and a half later you get it back and the interior is just plastered in printer paper that looks like a brigade of toddlers just went nuts on it with their crayons. And also your boss is dead and the apparent leader of said toddlers is the new communications director. Kat Hey at least the astronautical engineering division can feel vindicated that that shuttle a few years back didn't malfunction Gill Engineer: So that shuttle didn’t malfunction and Cutter was actively orchestrating a fake explosion and cover-up. Then he sent Warren “Oh just let me fire off this prototype in a civilian area” Kepler and his goon squad up in our prototype to go fuck around with you guys some more. Minkowski: Yup. Engineer: And you killed him. Minkowski: …yes. Engineer: …did you kill him painfully? Tell me it was painfully. (Minkowski is mildly worried about how she acquires some of her new supporters) Kat Lots of long simmering resentment Kate I imagine she gets a lot of goodwill points for taking out Cutter and Kepler… imagine

*

Kat comms director Minkowski having to do tax fraud to protect her team somehow Gill Jacobi, having just another day in the office, doing taxes: god this is so dull, I hate tax season. I wonder if Minkowski’s gone and holed up in the accounting department, she probably lives for this kind of thing. /smash cut to Minkowski threatening an IRS agent at harpoon-point Kat Minkowski making Hera her own LLC so she has rights now: This is legal according to Citizens United as long as no one looks at it too closely (my dad became an LLC today so he can contract with his work after he retires. I joked he will be the last person able to vote in the household once they take everyone else's rights away but corporations are people) Gill “Minkowski Commits Tax Fraud” would be an amazing chapter title for a fic at some point though Kat Minkowski early in the mission diligently doing her taxes in space because she's a good American citizen Minkowski like 5 years later: fuck capitalism Gill That one meme image but it’s, Minkowski: You mean the game was rigged all along? Minkowski @ herself: always has been. Kate This is my strongest Minkowski belief Gill Minkowski: wow, capitalism sucks, and growing up in a Soviet satellite state was also awful. Perhaps… the true problem… is giving people the power to wholly dictate other people’s lives…

*

Kat after the story of the Hephaestus crew breaks and they're famous Eiffel gets Minkowski a funko pop of herself it has a little harpoon Kinsey i support this wholeheartedly Gill It is both unsettling and adorable. She sets it proudly on her desk at work Kat someone coming into Comms Director Minkowski's office: uhhhhh Minkowski sitting next to her funko pop: what it's got the same psychic damage potential as Cutter having a #1 dad mug on his desk and everyone's too scared to ask about it Gill Concept: Minkowski eventually being gifted the Funko Pop versions of her entire crew They’re referred to affectionately(?) as her minions Kate If you’ve been called to her office because you’ve done something Sketchy and Capitalistic, you might even prefer looking into the creepy flat soulless eyes of the funko pop rather than Minkowski’s very, very sharp and angry human ones Gill Another mental image. Lovelace, beholding her funko pop: I mean, I don’t think my eyes are that terrifying even when I’m possessed by unknown cosmic entities, but other than that, it’s a perfect likeness. Lovelace: Look, she even has her arms folded because she’s mad at the other little plastic crewmates for being idiots. I love her.

[jack-kellys]

Not quite a request but re: your Jack doppelganger concept, what is the tipping point that leads to him and/or the other newsies realizing something isn't right?

HI ISABEL :) hello happy new year

jack knows something is weird when katherine comes into jacobi’s. because he doesn’t get why the girl he ran into on the street is talking about being a reporter all of a sudden…

(i think jack gets davey and les safely to medda’s and when her show starts.. something. happens. he doesn’t remember how he got back to the lodge that night.)

but jack realizes it’s someone else when he’s being forced down to pulitzer’s cellar and an entire other jack kelly walks by him, smiles, and walks up the stairs. reporting for duty and whatnot.

davey knows at the rally that that is. someone else. that something is off. jack is more reckless than this, he wouldn’t just surrender so insincerely. like genuinely it isn’t messy enough to be jack kelly LMAO. it’s careful in the way jack isn’t- jack makes every effort he can for his shots that he calls to appear streamlined and off the top of his head (when they aren’t usually, hence why jack needs a second to sit and literally think when the price raises). and davey knows that surrender like this, a change in plan within the last few hours he and jack would’ve talked about it, is not something jack would be speaking so confidently through.

also. davey would’ve been fucking told abt this if it was jack, he thinks. (he thinks wrong, but it’s still why he doesn’t think it could be jack.)

somehow jack(real) gets free the next day and calls another meeting and then the 92sies raid happens

idk if you know abt a sort of modern era magic exists au @thefactsofthematter has/used to have but she’d posted a scene where pulitzer had this magic control over jack and yeah. yeah. similar vibe but think more frankenstein??? idk. idk

[dlsintegration]

hi you..... 1, 12, 32 and 40 for the ask game >:D

Hiiii my angel ​🫶🏻​

When did you fall in love with the show:

Started watching a little bit after it started airing, I don't remember the specific tipping point that made my brain fully snap in two and decide to make my entire life revolve around iwtv but. It has to be the Church scene right . Ep1 is a movie of its own and I loved it from the very first scene but the last 15mn are just everything i'd been missing in my life at the time, I remember literally calling my friend and screaming at her to put it on it was already so bad for me...It's almost surreal to think about that period now but yeah . Immediately fell in love and now well. lestatwhiteshirtclaspedhands.jpg

12. What were your favorites moments of season one?

UGHHH so hard to choose just a few but immediately my mind goes to the Dubai scenes and the insane power dynamics going on in that penthouse... the entire show is so gorgeous and smart and thoughtful but there's something about the moments where you catch a glimpse of what's really simmering beneath the seamless surface and it makes me insane. the best example of that is the honey and pineapple scene the tension is so thick and charged and dangerous and . yeah . it just goes back to how excited I am to actually see Dubai armand outside of his rashid persona. but if we're talking new orleans I really have a soft spot for the scenes Louis shares with Paul and Grace.

32. Is there a specific moment or plot point you're hoping to see next season?

Well, yes! Not going to be super original here but I can't wait to see how they're going to rework Armand and Louis' first meeting as I'm having. well. very specific theories about it. Also the "No pain" scene, obviously, and also very curious about how they intend to integrate the political aspects of post-war Paris into the narrative framework of the show. I'm also equal parts terrified and excited to see Louis and Claudia's falling out happen on my screen because of how genuinely heartbreaking I know it'll be.

And um. Armand torturing lestat in that tower, boot on his neck and all .

40. If you made any fanworks of your own, what are your personal favorites? Throw yourself some flowers!

Hopefully will have more things to feel proud of this year but I'm so happy that House exists and that I've been lucky enough to write alongside some of the people I love and admire most <3

[electromignion]

Thomas Bradshaw and Anne Becker — Bridgewater Fanart 🫶

As I like difficulty here are not one but two Anne/Thomas fanarts in one (+ another little Thomas) (first time I draw Thomas! Wahoo!!) 😭 (might be better to have heard the show fully before reading further!! ‼️🫶)

I had been wanting to draw that for more than a week so I’m glad I’ve finally been able to! There’s a lot to show so in the read more you’ll get the alt versions (without transparency the nowadays Thocker (idk if there’s a ship name for them but for my own sake it’s shorter and it sounds cool to me 👉👈), the 1980 Thocker sepia version, the 1980 coloured version and the newspapers on its own! (Idk if the alt text is truly readable on this app so I’ll also put the text version ⬇️)

The nowadays version of Thocker, I tried to show the age difference and all so it was possible to see that it was from nowadays. My little headcanon, Thomas stole one of Jeremy’s shirt (I usually draw our beloved Jeremy in light blue shirts), and as to Anne, there’s a whole explanation on her nowadays look made myself in that other drawing I did a few days ago.

I decided to do that pose for them because it seemed like something evident to me, that fit them; they’re still pretty much in love, looking at each other, and caressing each other’s cheek from the tip of their fingers but the way their backs are facing the opposite directions is so important to me, they finally reunited but with all the hectic circumstances it’s fated to not last and it’s so sad at the same time and I want to see them happy (I swear) 😩

This whole drawing was actually made only for this and my brain builded it up around it (I don’t know how my brain works either), so this whole thing that took me around 10 hours of my life (it was a really struggle) has been inspired by this post of @draw-the-squad-like-this and I’m forever so thankful for all the pics poses they make my brain sparkle ways I wouldn’t be able to myself 😭🙏

Here are the 1980 Thocker sepia version and coloured version of the drawing!

This is the first time I draw Anne in her 30s so here you go! I thought about making a close couple pose, their love 😩🫶 (and this way it shows the importance of the text on the newspaper as Anne is quoted)

Here’s the journal!

“BRIDGEWATER DAILY

Vol.31 No. 156 20 cents 1980

Local police officer has been reported missing

Thomas Bradshaw has been reported missing after leading an investigation in Freetown State Forest. The police has yet to determine the reason of his disappearance.

A call for witnesses has been made. Anne Becker, his work partner dismisses him deliberately dieppearing “he would never leave his 5 years old son behind"she declares.”

And next to it there is a small black and white portrait of Thomas.

I wanted Anne to be quoted because it shows her proximity to Thomas, and that she also cared about Jeremy 💔

It was also a good background to put an emphasis on their love because 40 years!!!! That’s love 😭 + also the news was known to have been covered a lot and a lot of times as Jeremy was pretty traumatised by it, so it was very probable that local newspapers like this totally invented one by myself would have picked it up right away because of the “buzz” and the mystery surrounding it

If you’ve read that far I hope you liked it and thank you once again for you huge support, lots of love 💜🫶