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[natalievoncatte]

Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.

[hornyhornyhimbos]

"One Of Me Is Cute... But Two Though?" ~ L. Alvez

Summary: When Reader spots her pregnant friend at a Halloween party, the wheels start to turn in her head. If Luke really loves her, won't he love having a second Reader even more?

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,664

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, couch activities, breeding kink, Luke is kind of a mean!dom oops, nicknames (baby, brat; Luke is called daddy once), sorta implied drinking since they take an Uber home but not really, explicit language, lowk this fic was kinda rushed sorry, fic title is of course from "Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: so sorry this was not posted on time 😭 hope you guys still enjoy though!

Originally Written: 10/25/2024 through 10/27/2024

criminal minds masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

Ever since you'd gotten in the Uber, you'd been sulking. You refused to even look at Luke, your hands staying planted in your lap instead of reaching over to hold his like they normally would. It wasn't his fault—really, no one was at fault—but you couldn't seem to help your pouty nature.

Every so often, Luke would meet you with a pout of his own, his eyes sad as he tried to figure out what exactly was the matter with you. “Baby, please talk to me,” he'd say every few minutes, and every time, you just kept on silently moping.

As you walked into your shared home, his hands landed on your hips. A soft pair of lips peppered kisses along your exposed shoulder, Luke’s silent way of trying to get you to talk to him.

Still, you weren't giving in that easily. You simply let out an annoyed huff, moving away from him and sitting down on the couch.

Hot on your trail, Luke followed, squatting in front of you and reaching to undo your strappy heels. “Okay, you gotta tell me what's going on,” he said, clearly put out despite his calm tone. “I can't fix the problem if you don't tell me what's going on.”

“Doesn't matter if I tell you,” you grumbled, nearly under your breath. “You won't fix the problem anyway.”

His eyebrows raised, his expression somewhere between serious and shocked as he registered what you'd just said. “You wanna try that again?”

A tingle shot to your core as his dominant side started to show. You couldn't deny how much it turned you on when he was mad, so you decided to press a little more. “You heard me,” you said, lips still turned downward in a bratty pout.

Luke stood back up to his full height, practically towering over you as he placed his hands on his hips. Despite his dorky mailman costume, he managed to look sexy in those mid-thigh shorts and navy baseball cap. “I know what I heard,” he said, his words still sounding calm even though his expression told a different story. “I'm giving you a chance to fix it before you earn yourself a little punishment.”

The word punishment sent heat straight through you. You frowned again, not saying anything else on the current topic as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Luke huffed, his anger finally starting to show just a little. “Do I need to fuck a confession out of you?”

Despite how tempting that was, you finally gave in, figuring you should at least try to have a civil conversation about what was bothering you. “I want a baby.”

Luke's mouth dropped open in shock, his eyes widening a little. He didn't say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“Didn't Hannah look so cute in her costume tonight?” you asked with pleading eyes. “Don't you want that to be us next Halloween?”

Some might have found your college roommate's costume a little silly. She'd somehow turned an old cardboard box into an oven and painted a cinnamon roll over her six-month pregnant belly, effectively turning her stomach into “a bun in the oven.” Hannah's husband had his oven mitt-covered hands on her the whole night, proclaiming he was the proudest baker that had ever existed.

However, something about your friend (and her slightly possessive husband) made your baby fever kick in. The thought of Luke knocking you up, the thought of him being absolutely primal with you, sent your head spiraling.

The sound of Luke's deepening voice brought you out of your thoughts and back to reality. “So you thought the best course of action would be to act like a brat until I gave you your way?”

You couldn't help the slight blush that crept its way onto your cheeks. You stayed silent, knowing whatever you said next would probably get you in worse trouble.

He knelt in front of you again, his hands slipping under your dress, fingertips dancing along the expanse of your thighs. “You know, you really don't deserve anything tonight. Acting like I've never taught you any manners.”

With a smirk, you replied, “Maybe you should teach me again.”

Luke’s lips turned upward into a smirk of his own, dragging a finger slowly over your covered core. “You really are a little brat,” he scoffed. Still, his hands slid your dress upward until your thighs were uncovered, revealing the wet spot starting to form on your cherry red panties. “I rest my case,” he said with an eye roll.

“Come on,” you said, puckering your lips outward and giving him puppy eyes. “Can't you give in just a little?”

A low chuckle rumbled through him as he grabbed your legs and pulled you forward. “C'mere, my sexy little love letter.”

Teeth grazed your thigh as his hand pulled at the waistband of your underwear, sliding them off agonizingly slowly. In an instant, his mouth was on your core, attacking you with kitten licks and dirty kisses.

Your legs instinctively tightened around his head, practically holding his face to your center. Though your hands were practically shaking at the pleasure he was already providing you with, you managed to turn his cap around backwards. Instantly, he was diving even further into your center, groaning at the easier access.

A finger replaced his tongue, slipping inside of you and curving exactly the way you needed. You couldn't help the moan that fell from your lips as his mouth joined back in, desperately tonguing at your sensitive bud. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned as a second finger joined in, the words a low rumble against your center.

“Luke,” you sighed, his tongue leaving precise licks along your clit. Despite how good his ministrations felt, it simply wasn't enough for you. “You're never gonna get me knocked up if you don't fuck me.”

He scoffed, the hot air of his breath heavenly against your cunt. His fingers stayed inside you despite his mouth leaving your clit, his eyebrows raised as he met your gaze. “You're being a greedy brat right now.”

You started to reply, but the words were cut off as he flexed the digits inside you again, fingertips brushing over that perfect spot it seemed only he could reach. Your hands grasped at the couch cushions, trying to steady yourself in any way you could.

“You want me to knock you up?” Luke asked, his voice practically a growl. He tore his hands away from you, leaving you feeling absolutely empty as he worked on the fastening of his shorts. As he realized your eyes were fully focused on his hard-on, he demanded, “Answer when you're spoken to.”

“Yes,” you managed, nearly salivating as he pulled his cock out of those tiny khaki shorts.

He chuckled, the sound making your pussy ache more, if it was even possible. “Be careful what you wish for, baby.”

Without warning, he was shoving his length into you, giving you no time to adjust. His movements were quick, hips snapping into yours greedily. This was about him now, about teaching you a lesson and getting his own way.

“You want a baby?” he asked rhetorically, cock slamming into you as he practically held you down to the couch. “Fine. I'll give you a baby.”

Pleased whines slipped between your lips as he practically bullied your cunt. Every ridge and vein slid in and out of you, the friction absolutely delicious and exactly what you needed.

One of his hands met your center again, rubbing fast circles over your bundle of nerves, his eyes still on you to see your reaction to the pleasure. “Gotta cum first if you want me to fill you up,” he instructed, toying with your clit a little harder. “Gotta earn it.”

His filthy words and commands had you keening, your back arching off the sofa. You couldn't form words at this point, only noises that showed him how desperate you truly were. The sound of your bodies moving against each other filled the air, the scent of sex heavy in the air as skin slapped against skin.

You were close, so close to your release. The coil in your stomach burned as you inched closer to your climax, hands meeting Luke's hips and pulling him impossibly closer. “Please, Daddy. Make me cum,” you begged, your head falling back against the couch.

Luke only sped up at that, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over. His eyes closed in pleasure, and you could tell from his expression that he was close too. He pulled your pelvis closer to his, his movements shoving you further into the couch. Hips grinded against hips, perfectly in time with the circles he continued to place on your clit.

The new angle was just what you needed to fall over the edge, your orgasm burning through you. Your veins were practically on fire as he fucked you through it, now searching for his own release.

The tiny noises of pleasure coming from you as he fucked you into overstimulation was what he needed to reach his own release. Hot spurts of his seed filled what felt like every inch of you as he finally started to slow his movements.

After a moment of you both catching your breath, Luke lifted you by the waist, holding your body close to his as he headed for the bedroom.

“What are you doing?” you managed to ask, the sound close to a confused giggle, before kissing at the small sliver of his neck you had access to.

With a smirk, he answered, “Gotta make sure it sticks, right? You want a baby or not?”

Your head fell back in a laugh, though you couldn't argue. You were both in for a long night, but you couldn't seem to bring yourself to care. You just kept on kissing his neck as he laid you down on the mattress.

-> taglist: @reidsbookclub @dungeons-are-too-cold @ptrckjcne @longlivejemily @staley83

-> icon in collage by @lilacprentiss

-> dividers and support banner by @saradika-graphics

-> bun in oven costume idea by @dungeons-are-too-cold bc we are both lil freaks

[ammoniteblue]

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.1)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“-And we’re expecting light showers this afternoon with heights of 17 degrees celsius. So make sure to pack an umbrella. In other news, the Giants are about to welcome legendary Japanese baseb-“

The morning radio rambled quietly in your car, some light background music on your morning commute to work. Today you’d left too late, a delay caused by your alarm clock not going off on time, and now you were paying for it. The traffic jam was long. At this rate you were going to be late for work.

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. If you were even five minutes late your editor was going to kill you. this was a super important meeting, one Sana had been fighting for for months. It could make or break your career, taking you from a small time author to the real thing. An international bestseller. A book adapted into a screenplay. A movie. A show. World wide recognition. A dream come true.

You could feel that dream slipping away as the traffic in front of you crawled forwards.

There was a ding. Your phone. No doubt Sana asking about where the fuck you were. A cursory glance at your watch informed you had twenty minutes to get down town.

fuck.

Was your heart racing from the three cups of coffee you chugged this morning or the stress ?

Another ding. And then another. Oh my god.

It was wrong, perhaps even evil. something you’d never admit aloud. but a tiny part of your brain wished, just for a second, that a Kaiju would drop down from the sky and rid the streets of traffic.

A great scream tore through the air. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard before. Beyond animalistic. a noise only a monster could make. Horns began to blare ahead of you and as you strained your neck to look up you realised why.

“Be careful what you wish for…” You hissed to yourself, as a towering reptilian figure appeared ahead of you.

It was easily taller than the surrounding skyscrapers. The Kaiju resembled a lizard, a knock off version of Godzilla. It’s beady yellow eyes didn’t seem to blink and as the creature took a step the ground trembled. earthquake like ripples shook the earth, sending your cup of coffee teetering over in your car.

People had begun to panic. Pedestrians turned and ran in the opposite direction, not afraid of pushing each other out of the way. In your rear view mirror you watched as an office worker knocked an old lady over in his hurry. He didn’t bother to stop.

Now you’d never call yourself a hero. You weren’t particularly brave or even outgoing. Maybe that’s why you became an author. It was a great gig and one you got to do alone. So it came to a shock to you when you found yourself getting out of your car and rushing into the crowd.

People barrelled past you, mothers clinging to their children, workers evacuating buildings. even cats and dogs had taken to running for the hills. You did your best to push through them until you were there, standing over the old lady.

She was struggling to pick herself back up, her cane discarded to the side. Quickly, you grabbed it and with your free hand helped her up to her feet.

“Thank you my dear, you shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger.” She said her voice wobbling a little.

A quick glance down informed you that she’d been hurt. blood was trickling down her left leg. she needed medical attention.

“It’s okay, we need to find you hel-“ You began to say only to be interrupted by a thundering roar.

A ray of purple light shot only metres past you both. It hit a row of cars near you, each one vaporising into nothing but debris and ash. From where you were huddled you could feel the heat radiating off of it.

The old lady let out a scared scream and as you glanced up you realised why. The Kaiju’s snakelike eyes were trained exactly on you. You blinked as your body suddenly went numb. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. To be under the glare of a creature so big, so terrifying. A primal instinct in you told you to run. to leave the old lady and turn and save yourself. But you didn’t. You stayed. Whether that was out of nobility or fear you didn’t know.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not when in mere moments you would be dead. reduced to nothing but ash on the sidewalk. No big meeting, no movie deal. You’d die a small time author no one has ever heard of. Your parents. What would they think ? their only child dead. They wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

goodbye mum. goodbye dad. I’m sorry.

There was nothing you could do but try to shield the old woman as the Kaiju opened its mouth and roared. There was a great flash of purple and heat. heat unlike anything you’d ever felt. and then nothing.

Moments passed and you realised you weren’t dead. Neither of you were. The attack hadn’t come. But how ?

A feeble glance informed you how.

Stood only mere feet away from you, shining in silver and red was Ultraman himself. The city’s hero returned after months of absence. He was here. He was back. He saved you.

“Ultraman.” You breathed, staring in wonder up at him as he used a shield to divert the attack.

It was almost beautiful. the way the purple ray clashed with the blueish shield creating a symphony of light and colour.

The attack stopped and his shield dropped. Before the Kaiju could move, he raced forwards and tackled the beast into the ground. the impact sent tremors through the earth, one’s that almost sent you and the old lady toppling over.

“Quickly, let’s find shelter.” You slung her arm over you and used this diversion to try and drag you both to safety.

Soon after the KDF arrived, and emergency services. A paramedic saw to the old lady, Mrs Tanaka, who repeated endless apologies to you. She held your hand in hers and said:

“my dear you saved my life. i can never repay you. i am forever in your debt.”

Then as you started to cry, overwhelmed by stress and sheer relief at still being alive, she brought you into a hug. it was warm and homey. it felt like you were a kid again. like everything would be alright.

When you did finally turn up at your editors, six hours late and covered in scratches and blood, some yours and some Mrs. Tanaka’s, Sana flung herself into your arms. Your boss bitch editor, the self proclaimed Ice Queen of publishing, bawled in your arms like a homesick baby. The meeting was pushed back till you felt better and she demanded you take a few days to rest and de stress.

By the time you got home you were a shaking mess of nerves, trauma and exhaustion. if not for the blood and dirt you would’ve flung yourself on your bed and promptly passed out. But a shower was sorely needed and after the shower you realised how hungry you were. Saving an old lady’s life hadn’t left a lot of time for lunch.

There was a ramen shop below your apartment. a nice cosy spot run by a sweet old man who’d gone out of his way to actually read your book, after you’d finally told him you were an author. you’d been a regular there since you moved into your apartment a year ago. A nice warm bowl of ramen might just be the thing you needed.

In sweats and glasses you padded out of your apartment and down the stairs.

It was only nine thirty and the streets of tokyo were very much alive. People shuffled up and down the streets. groups of giggling university students, no doubt on their way to a bar or club. Oh to be young. Office workers were only just now leaving work, slumping down the streets like zombies. Their briefcases hanging limply in hand.

You shuffled into Mr Ozami’s ramen shop to be greeted with the savoury smell of veggies and meat. It was fairly quiet, a lull between the dinner crowd and night walkers. The booth in the back, your favourite spot, was free. Mr. Ozami didn’t even give you a menu, he nodded from behind the counter and went to whip up your usual.

It was nice. the pair of you exchanged barely any words but had somehow forged an unlikely friendship. right now it was just what you needed. quiet company and a warm meal.

Prompt as always, Mr. Ozami slid a bowl in front of you, popping a pair of chopsticks down. He nodded again and like that returned to his spot behind the counter. He knew you’d leave the exact amount of change for the meal after. Never a tip. you’d tried the first time you came and he’d immediately handed it back.

It was perfect. down to the last minute detail. Warm broth flowed into your stomach and slowly your nerves began to fade. an ease settled over you. tonight you’d sleep well. despite the absolutely harrowing day, you’d sleep well.

Or so you thought, until a stranger walked into the shop.

at first you didn’t notice. your whole face was almost in your bowl of ramen, too fixated on slurping noodles to realise someone else was in the shop. Maybe that’s why you were so startled to notice a guy standing by the counter, examining a menu in hand. Or maybe it was because the longer you stared the more you realised he looked familiar.

Too familiar.

And that’s when it hit you.

Tall, lean and dark haired. the man in front of you was Kenji Sato. New addition to the Giants and legendary baseball player.

Holy shit.

He looked up not giving you any time to wipe the broth off of for your face. a noodle hung limply from your mouth. for the second time today you were shocked still. The moments of eye contact were unbearable. His eyes flickered over you and you could see in his mind he was weighing you up.

Of all the days to be wearing sweats and slippers.

Thankfully he must’ve registered you as disgusting because he glanced away and back at the menu. With his eyes off you, you were free to slurp the noodle up and wipe the broth from your mouth, while trying to ignore the gentle stab in your gut.

Of course a superstar like Kenji Sato wouldn’t find you attractive. He wasn’t just a stupidly talented athlete, he was also good looking enough to be a model. in fact he did model. you’d seen the giant billboards with his face on, the flying blimps with him eating food or drinking something. not to mention in one fashion magazine there’d been this pic of him half naked with fake tattoos a-

No that was enough. stop it. today had been hard enough and you came here to relax. this person, because at the end of the day Kenji Sato was a person just like you, would not ruin that for you. You needed to sleep tonight. You needed to stay calm.

“Hey I saw you staring so i thought you might want this.” And there goes staying calm.

Kenji Sato was stood in front of your booth, looking like sin itself in his varsity jacket and sunglasses, holding out a signed baseball card to you.

For the third fucking time you froze. seriously it was becoming a problem. clearly you could only take action when it came to saving little old ladies. but anything else ?? nope not happening.

“Here then, i’ll just leave it on your table.” He half chuckled, sliding the card next to your bowl.

It wasn’t till he turned away that your brain finally started to work and your stupid mouth opened.

“O-oh uh thanks. that’s very nice of you but maybe you should save it for someone else ?” oh my god. what the hell were you saying.

Kenji paused and half turned to face you. one of his eyebrows was raised.

“It’s just,” you quickly tried to save yourself, “i’m not the biggest baseball fan and there’s probably a fan out there who’s really like it.”

nope yep you made it worse. why were you telling like the best player in japan, maybe the whole world, that you didn’t like his sport ?? Did you hit your head today and just forget ? It had to be the exhaustion talking, it had to be.

Amazingly, Kenji didn’t balk at your words. Rather the corners of his mouth twisted into an amused smile. He considered you for a moment and maybe he would’ve said something in response, if Mr. Ozami hadn’t come over with a take out box.

“Here.” He said plainly, handing the box to Kenji.

Kenji took it with a thank you, maybe a little perplexed at Mr. Ozami’s blunt way of speaking. he had been in the states almost his whole life. They probably did things differently over there.

“So um yeah…here you go ?” you held the card out to him, trying not to blush in embarrassment at your awkwardness.

everything that had come out of your mouth since he walked in felt stupid. it was like you were a completely different person. Why were you acting like this ?

Kenji glanced between you and the card. His amused smile never faded.

“You know what,” he grinned, “keep it. might just make a baseball fan out of you yet.”

He gave you one last look and it took everything in you to not turn bright red under his gaze, before turning and walking out of the shop.

It wasn’t till many minutes later that you glanced away from the doorway where he’d disappeared through. The card in your hands was shiny, a small laminated rectangle.

There he was, bat in hand, dark eyes shining, a self assured smile on his face. at the bottom was his signature scribbled in dark ink.

you flipped it over, expecting to find nothing but a blank white space. what you saw sent your heart into a cacophony of thumps. the blush you’d been holding back spilled over. every part of you felt red and hot and horribly unnerved.

scrawled across it in lazy handwriting were the digits:

+81 3 1234-5678

Kenji Sato’s phone number…..

[heechwe]

love actually — 𝐭𝐱𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

ALL WORKS IN THIS SERIES WILL BE 18+; MDNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.ᐟ ୨୧ synopsis: College is already complicated enough without romantic struggles being thrown into it all. But like all things, love is complex, and you're determined to get it. [TEASER HERE] ♫ playlist: i believe | jonas brothers, brand new | big time rush, cover me in roses | holden lawrence, too young | sabrina carpenter, on a night like tonight | niall horan, timeless | taylor swift, eyes | joan, blue spring | txt ˋ°•*⁀➷ apply for the taglist here.ᐟ ꄗ key: ☁︎ — fluff, ༄ — angst, ✗ — smut, ✦ — lexi’s favorites, tags masterlist will be updated with each chapter's release.ᐟ @hursheys Bless you for editing the synopses idk where I'd be without you ❤︎

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐃 — 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧

As one of the star pitchers on the college baseball team, Yeonjun has mastered the art of concealing his feelings. He believes it's essential to keep both himself and his relationship hidden. However, if he wants you to remain by his side, he may need to allow his true emotions to surface. ࿔*:･ read here

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 — 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧

Soobin has no choice but to agree to the love of his life's ridiculous plan for the school semester: make him her fake boyfriend to avoid being the nth wheel in her friend group. But this may be the perfect opportunity for him to show her how far he will go to turn pretend into reality. ࿔*:･ read here

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 — 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐨𝐦𝐠𝐲𝐮

Choi Beomgyu has sworn off love for good. He will not fall privy to another girl's charm, especially one that is head over heels for the concept of an eternal soulmate. He's got nothing to lose doing a end-of-term project with her...right? ࿔*:･ read here

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 — 𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

Taehyun dreamed of the opportunity to reconnect with his long-lost dream girl. Now that she is on his campus and back in his life, will he be able to correct the mistakes he made in the past and finally find happiness? ࿔*:･ read here

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 — 𝐡𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐚𝐢

According to all of Kai's friends, exes are considered scorched earth. But how can he stop himself from wanting to try again, especially when you have circled back into his life by a random chance of luck and your perceived misfortune? ࿔*:･ read here

[sc0tters]

His Caretaker | Jamie Drysdale

summary: after Jamie has too much to drink you get called to help get your boyfriend home.

request: yes/no

warnings: mentions of being drunk, tooth rottingly sweet couple.

word count: 1.54

authors note: Jamie gives me such soft vibes and this is fully what this piece is based off on. The baseball fan in me loves that picture of him (not even an angles fan but I’m willing to look past that). Fluff is not my forte so I’m gonna hope that this isn’t shit and sorry that you’ve had to wait so long for your request to be filled!

Somehow you should have known you wouldn’t be getting your own way tonight.

A relaxing evening was what you had planned for yourself after you turned Jamie’s offer of joining him and the boys at the bar. Sure you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend but going out was the last thing you felt like doing after the hectic day of college classes that you had been through all you wanted was a nice bubble bath.

Sure Jamie was a little upset that you didn’t want to come but when you told him to have a good night for the two of you, he seemed to take that a little bit more literally than you intended.

A groan fell from your lips when your phone began to ring “yes?” You tried to act like Jamie hadn’t just interrupted the movie you were watching.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought you heard your boyfriend in the background of the call “y/n you gotta come get Jamie,” Trevor explained as he was somewhat panicked “I wanna say hi!” Jamie whined as his eyes lit up at the mention of you.

You were quick to get up as you grabbed your shoes “I’ll be there in like fifteen?” Anaheim wasn’t usually known for its traffic but you knew that it would be longer for a weekend on what was bar central street “I want her now,” it was the complaint in Jamie’s voice that made you know he was doing his puppy dog face that he would do whenever he would want to get his way in something that you two were planning “and tell Jamie to stop pouting because I’m coming,” you pointed out as you shut the front door to the apartment.

It wasn’t hard to find the boys, Trevor had sent you a message saying that they were going to sit out front as some of the other boys were now also waiting for their girlfriends “y/n!” Jamie cheered as he saw you get out of your car.

A smile formed on your lips as you couldn’t help but laugh “hi baby,” he almost knocked you off of your feet as he wrapped his arms around you “missed you,” he confessed now making all of the boys laugh.

You kissed his cheek as he nuzzled his head in crook of your neck “you can let go of me,” despite the fact that the hug felt really nice you sort of needed to look at his friends to talk to them “never,” Jamie shook his head not liking your idea.

Somehow you managed to position yourself to actually see them whilst not letting go of Jamie “I’m going to get this man child home,” you announced drawing a scoff from your boyfriends lips.

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you “I’m not a man child!” He complained as he let his lips form a pout again “you’re my man child,” you spoke in a duh tone as you pecked his lips. It was that gesture that almost made him melt as his irritated look turned soft and smiley “let’s go,” he nodded as he sent a wave to his friends. The boys all couldn’t help but shake their heads as they waved back knowing that the Canadian was not going to remember this tomorrow.

It seemed that the second Jamie’s head hit the headrest of his seat he was out. In all honesty you couldn’t help but look over to him occasionally to smile at yourself, you found yourself the cutest boyfriend you could have asked for “baby?” Jamie mumbled as he looked at you when the car stopped at a red light.

His eyes fluttered open as he had woken himself up “hi love,” you felt giddy as he reached out to grab your right hand. Usually whoever was driving only got one hand for the steering wheel as the other was usually being held by the passenger, Jamie’s real favourite place to put his hand though was actually on your knee when he drove you two through the streets of California.

The soft sounds of the engine rumbling seemed to help Jamie fall back asleep but not before he could remind you “I love you,” it was like each time he said it you fell more and more in love with him.

Even though he was asleep you still responded “I love you too,” as you kissed his hand before you continued the rest of the drive back to your apartment.

The only real thing that you had felt on the way up to your apartment was the warmth of Jamie’s hand, he had this smug looking smile on his face too “what’s got you all happy?” You asked as the elevator doors opened up to your floor.

Jamie threw his arm around you “you love me,” he slurred as he tapped his finger on your nose.

It drew a laugh from your lips “yeah I do,” you nodded in amusement as he repeated that you loved him all the way until the two of you reached your door.

Thankfully you hadn’t locked it so it meant that you two could just walk right back in “I’m gonna need you to strip baby,” you cooed as you realised that the front of his white shirt had beer spilt on it.

The comment only made Jamie smirk “didn’t know you were so horny,” he teased as he placed his hands on your hips.

You shook your head “don’t want you sleeping in this,” you explained causing him to look down at his outfit, those denim shorts really weren’t ideal to sleep in.

All the boy could do was mutter an “oh” as he began to walk to your room. As drunk as he was he still seemed to have that clear thinking part of him.

He pulled the shirt over his head letting you get a moment to look at his naked chest “you like what you see?” Jamie asked as he began to unzip his pants. You smiled as you nodded “got me a cute boyfriend,” you announced as you placed a peck on his lips.

With his clothes now on the floor you picked them up “let’s go brush your teeth,” on the way to the bathroom you had the chance to drop his clothes into the hamper.

It seemed like Jamie remembered the few times that he had taken care of you in the bathroom as he walked over to the sink “sit on that,” you shook your head as the height difference between you two was not going to make brushing his teeth easy if he was stood up.

Jamie sat on the lid of the toilet as you had him open his mouth “you’re so bossy,” he mumbled as you placed his toothbrush in his mouth.

You sent him a thoughtful look as you contemplated entertaining his conversation “I’m just helping you.” You pointed out as you continued to brush his teeth “it’s hot,” you were surprised that you heard what he said between the toothpaste and the toothbrush in his mouth.

A smile formed on your lips “thank you,” you bit your lip as you tried to not let your cheeks turn pink.

His hands trailed up your legs before they wrapped around behind you to squeeze your ass “keep your hands to yourself mister,” you warned causing him to giggle as he raised his hands in surrender.

These cute moments in your bathroom weren’t usually a thing as you both had very different morning schedules and not to mention that Jamie didn’t live with you, he just had a lot of his clothes there “go spit and rinse,” you reminded him as you took the toothbrush out of his mouth.

He followed your request as he dried his face before he looked up to you with an over exaggerated grin “nice and shiny,” he spoke as you nodded before you motioned to him to go back to your bedroom.

Your walk back to your bed was short as you watched Jamie plop onto the mattress “oh my god you’re taking up the whole bed!” You complained with a laugh as you watched him sprawl out on his back “there’s space for you,” Jamie nodded to himself as he smiled.

You played your hands on your hips “where?” You waited for him to answer but instead you were met with his hands on your hips as he pulled you onto him “J!” You squealed as he wrapped his arms around you practically trapping your body on top of his.

The boy let out a giggle as he kissed your forehead “isn’t this nice,” he confessed causing you to look up at him “I have to go brush my teeth,” you reminded him as he groaned “nope,” Jamie shook his head sending you a grin in the process.

You furrowed your eyebrows “what do you mean no?” In all honesty you thought he was kidding “I love you and your smelly breath,” the hockey player confessed as it was now your turn to laugh.

You used to say that you were lucky he loved you.

But that made you think it was possibly the other way around tonight.

[intrepidacious]

a million summers

summary: Something shifts between you and Bucky when he comes back home from college.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: modern AU; childhood friends to lovers; alcohol consumption; making out; the rare occurence of me writing something that's almost exclusively fluff. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

prompt: @allcapsbingo O1: "You've changed."

a/n: i didn't plan on posting anything today but something came over me. happy valentine's day, everyone!! this one's for @jesterstrange – remember when you sent me two songs for my sleepover and i completely ignored one of them? this is why 💛

masterlist | read on ao3

The air in the car is buzzing with late night heat and the crackling of the radio rapidly switching between stations, but you can’t seem to mind. Your heart is pounding in tune because less than two hours ago, you were kissing Bucky Barnes.

The Bucky Barnes, whose hand is currently gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. Valedictorian, baseball legend, first boy you ever fell in love with, prodigal third of your trio, Bucky Barnes.

Shit, if Steve found out about this, you’re not sure if he would laugh or kill both of you.

You wonder if the same thing is currently going through Bucky’s mind, because when you steal a sideways glance at him, he’s biting the inside of his lip, like he always does when he’s wrapped in thought.

It’s funny, in a way. You’ve noticed these little things about him since you were eleven years old, innocently collecting tiny facts about James Buchanan Barnes in your mind like other children kept pebbles or leaves they found on a walk. Like how his hair would stick up and begin to curl in his neck when it was about to rain. Or how he always got the first splatter of freckles in May, after months and months of them hiding away from the cold.

They’re there now, dancing across his cheekbones and down the bridge of his nose, and when the sunrise hits them at the right angle, they point out all the places you want to kiss; underneath his eye and on the tip of his nose, and, most importantly, right at the corner of his mouth, where his smile starts.

Your heart still can’t believe he’d actually let you do just that.

(He would, he would. He has.)

Your phone vibrates again and you ignore it. Reality might be on the other end, and you’re not ready for that quite yet.

There’s a slight tick in Bucky’s jaw when you peek at him again, barely noticeable to anyone who doesn’t know him quite as well as you do, and it sets your cheeks on fire. You roll the window down to feel the wind in your hair. Maybe it’ll cool your face a little.

You haven’t talked to each other at all ever since you got in the car, Bucky concentrating on the road, you counting the cars you pass. There’s not a lot of them, not at this hour, so the activity doesn’t exactly help to calm your mind, but you don’t trust your voice enough to start a conversation quite yet.

(Still, he hasn’t let go of your hand since you got in the car, either.)

It’s strange, this silence between you, not uncomfortable but unusual, because even though you’ve filled countless hours just quietly doing your own thing next to one another, it’s never been with this tension that’s making the air between you thick enough to cut.

The radio finally settles on a station, and there’s a spark of recognition at the song that manifests in Bucky squeezing your hand a little more tightly, and you finally break the silence with a quiet laugh and a warning, "Don’t."

"I didn’t say anything," Bucky says with a smile in his voice.

"Your thoughts are very loud."

"My thoughts are none of your business." He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a small kiss to your knuckles. Your breath hitches. "Besides, you were very cute."

"Slow down," you say, "I want to throw myself out of the car."

Bucky has the audacity to laugh. "Come on. Everyone had a phase in middle school."

"Everyone who knew me in middle school needs to die," you groan.

"Is that a threat, Y/L/N?"

You take in his cocky grin, tapping a finger against your chin in fake contemplation. "Maybe."

"Oh yeah?" he says, and you swear his smile grows even more crooked as you echo his words back at him.

(You want to trace it with your fingers and then taste it again.)

"So this is what we’ve come to," he says, his face exaggeratedly appalled as he shakes his head. "You’ve changed."

"I’m afraid there can’t be any exceptions," you say, squeezing his hand. "Especially not if this 'short drive over' takes much longer," you say, turning to the window again. The clouds look heavy with the reminder of rain.

Bucky rubs soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, and the gentleness of the action makes you press your lips together to hide the giddyness threatening to spill over. "Almost there," he says, and continues driving.

A little faster than before, maybe.

***

You’d seen this look in Bucky’s eyes before, but it’d never been directed at you. Pupils blown wide, hair sticking to his forehead, gaze unwavering and so intense you felt like you were being stripped naked in the middle of the crowd.

(And during his own homecoming party, no less.)

You forced your gaze away, trying to focus on whatever story Wanda was telling intently, but it was impossible to do anything other than nodding and humming and taking another sip of your drink whenever there was a breath for you to do so.

When you dared another glimpse in his direction, Bucky was still watching you, even though he was doing a much better job at pretending to listen, one of Steve’s arms still slung around his shoulders, his lips widening into a smile at the same time the rest of the group started to laugh while you were just out of sync with everyone else.

Not that you were staring at his lips.

It’d been so long since you’d last seen him in person. He was supposed to go off to college with Steve, but instead ended up going to an entirely different part of the country, and despite the fact that the three of you once shared every spare minute, there was only so many lagging phone calls at odd hours a friendship like the one you used to have with Bucky could take.

It broke your heart, of course, but maybe it was for the better. After all, your feelings for him had been drifting towards something different to friendship for a while at that point, something softer and more precious, something hidden away in stolen glances and late night journal entries.

Him literally being out of reach had made it easier, in a way, even though you’d never quite managed to move on from the color of his eyes.

(How could you have?)

Now, seeing him right in front of you again, they seemed so much brighter than they did in your memories; like someone had broken off two pieces of a clear summer sky and put them in the center of his face. It was honestly unfair.

You managed to steal away to the upstairs bathroom for a few minutes, not bothering to turn the light on, splashing your face with cold water to try and get a grip on. You weren’t quite drunk, but tipsy enough to recognize the light haze in your eyes as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, angling yourself in the thin strip of moonlight falling in through the window, trying to see if there was anything different about you.

Anything that Bucky might have picked up on tonight, of all nights.

There was a knock at the door, so you quickly fixed your hair with a small sigh and mentally prepared to continue the night with a smile, determined to enjoy yourself, weird and totally not heart palpitation inducing looks from former best friends be damned.

As soon as you swung the door open, though, your confidence was immediately shattered when you almost barreled into someone standing right on the other side, leaning against the frame, hands in his pockets, smile blinding.

Like he’d been waiting for you.

"Y/L/N."

(Your name still sounded like honey on his tongue.)

"Barnes." You raised your eyebrows when he didn’t move to let you pass. "Can I help you with something?"

"Maybe," he said, and then he pulled you back into the room with him, locking the door behind the two of you.

You leaned against it, arms crossed in front of your chest, swallowing heavily. Bucky hovered very close by for a moment before he retreated, pushing both hands through his hair and then hiding them in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Right," you said, your head spinning slightly. "This isn’t ominous at all."

Bucky chuckled quietly, his eyes searching for something. "You look great," he finally said.

With a snort, you tilted your head and looked at his feet, not really believing his compliment. Your fingers were itching to unlock the door and just slip back into the party on the other side, but at the same time, you found you couldn’t move.

(You’d never been able to move away from him.)

"Look at that," you said, nudging your shoe against his. "You haven’t changed."

"Not really."

There was a strange edge to the smile in his voice, like he was trying to swallow something down. Maybe it was more clear on his face, but you couldn’t look up at him.

It was strange, the small details you remembered from years ago. Even when you and Bucky had begun to drift apart (because bottling up your feelings all the time could only ever have gone well for a short while), you would still spend most lunch breaks with him and Steve. How many times had you joined them on the tiny, dried up shrivel of lawn next to the library, being silly together and trying to stretch those thirty minutes into infinity, your sneakers always, always untied.

Steve had sprained his ankle in college when he tripped over his own feet, and so he’d started to tie them like the proper adult he pretended to be, and because the two of them had a habit of always copying the other, you’d just assumed that Bucky would have eventually grown out of the whole thing as well.

(Unlike you.)

Seemed like some things had stayed the same, after all.

And as if that stupid little observation had returned both of you back to the days that were, talking was suddenly so easy. You drifted closer to each other and apart again, like you were moving to a song much slower than the one still audible through the bathroom walls.

Later, you wouldn’t even be able to recall what you’d said. Some teasing remark, probably, a snarky comment like the ones you used to hide your feelings behind when you were fifteen and he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

Whatever it was you’d said, Bucky chuckled again. As if he thought you funny. "I can’t believe I …" He trailed off, shaking his head, dragging a hand through his hair again.

Your eyes tracked the movement. A single curl kept sticking up near the top of his head, like it always had when you both were younger. "You what?" you said, almost entranced by it.

"Nothing," he said, looking over his shoulder like he expected someone to come up to him. There was no one there, but he kept moving like he was struggling against some unseen force.

"You what?" you laughed, thoroughly intrigued now.

He shook his head, but it spilled out anyway, like some tidal wave he couldn’t keep contained. "I used to have a crush on you in high school, alright?"

A pause, a break, a screeching record halt.

"No, you didn’t."

(He didn’t.)

"Uhm, yeah I did." He sighed heavily. "Look, you were never supposed to find out."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you could feel it in your ears. "Why not?"

"Because you’re …. You were my best friend. That was more important." The past tense really shouldn’t have broken your heart the way it did, because you’d known. Of course you’d known.

"And what about now?" you said, your hands clutched tightly around yourself." We’re not best friends anymore, are we? So … what are we now?"

He stared at you very intently, and his voice broke a little when he said, "I’m not sure what you want me to be."

There was a pause, and you realized Bucky’s face had turned even redder. You could barely look away from his eyes, though. It was almost impossible to make out their color in the semi-darkness of the bathroom, but there was a softness to them that made your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Are you drunk or something?" you asked, feeling very, very sober yourself.

"What?" he said, almost offended by your suggestion. "Of course not."

"Good."

You stared at him for a moment longer, and then you kissed him.

You’d imagined kissing Bucky Barnes so many times before, but the real thing was so much better than even your wildest dreams could have predicted. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world and still didn’t want to waste a single second. Your hands circled around his waist to press him ever closer to you, and he made a noise at the back of his throat that made your brain short-circuit.

His hands trailed across your shoulder blades, gently pulling you with him as he took a step backwards and his back hit the wall with a low thud, his mouth never once leaving yours. He tasted like coffee and salt and something that was so distinctly him it took your breath away.

When you finally came up gasping for air, Bucky whined in disapproval, peppering smaller kisses along your cheeks, your jawbone, your neck. You grabbed his shoulder for support as your knees threatened to buckle, the fingers of your other hand grabbing a fistful of his hair.

"Shit, Y/N," he mumbled against your pulse, and the low timbre of his voice was enough to make your eyes flutter shut again. "You’ve got no idea how long …"

He didn’t finish talking, his lips finding yours again with a hum that made your grip on him tighten involuntarily, his hands large and solid around your middle. There was no telling how much time you lost to that kiss. Hours, maybe, an eternity of both of you trying to get as close to each other as possible.

At one point, Bucky tapped your thigh, as if he was trying to get you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist, and you were about to, honestly, but just then you were interrupted by a sudden and incessant knock at the door.

"Whoever’s in there, can you hurry up? There’s a line out here!"

You broke apart with an embarrassed snort. "Just a minute!" you called, somehow managing not to sound quite as short-winded as you felt. You steadied yourself against Bucky’s chest, feeling his heartbeat drum a mad rhythm underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. "I do not wanna go out there," you mumbled.

"Neither do I," he said, and his voice sounded so low and so wrecked you had to kiss him again. Just a small peck on the lips, this time, but you still came up light-headed. "Wanna get out of here?"

(More than anything.)

"I can’t," you sighed apologetically. "Nat’s not even here yet and I told her I’d help with the cake."

"I don’t give a shit about the cake."

You giggled. "I promised, though"

Bucky groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. The person on the other side of the door started knocking again. "She has an hour," he mumbled and sealed it with a quick kiss before you could say anything else. "Tops."

You left that bathroom with your head held high and an incredulous smile on your face. Outside, a clash of thunder shook the window panes.

***

It crosses your mind, then, when the car slows and the gas gauge finally stops blinking, that your younger self would have killed to be in your shoes. Or rather, bare feet pulled up on the passenger seat, Bucky’s fingers entertwining with yours, feeling tired and wide awake at the same time as nervous excitement curls up in your chest.

How many summer night did you use to lie awake in bed, imagining a scenario just like this?

(A million, at least.)

The summer air carries the smell of the ocean, and if you looked out the windscreen, you could probably see the waves crashing against the shoreline as the sun starts to rise, a picture perfect view like something out of a fucking dream. You’re still not quite convinced you haven’t fallen asleep on Wanda’s shoulder earlier in the evening, your subconscious making all of this up out of some long buried yearning from years ago.

You don’t want to look outside, though. You don’t want to look anywhere but at the boy beside you, whose hair is still tousled from your touch and who looks at you like he’s on cloud nine and absolutely terrified at the very same time.

"Do you feel kinda nervous or is it just me?" Bucky says, and you laugh.

"Yes. What’s up with that?"

It’s like the manic, pent up energy that made your kiss in the bathroom feel like you got struck by lightning has vanished from your bodies, making room for something more quiet. More anxious. A question whispered at the back of your mind that makes your hold on his hand tighten.

What now?

(Reality stopped calling a while ago, but it’s only a matter of time.)

"I guess it’s a good sign." Anticipation makes the blue of his eyes shimmer. "Means neither of us wants to fuck this up."

You smile tentatively. "Is there something we could potentially fuck up?"

Bucky swallows, tilting his head. "I hope there is."

(You want to run away with him. You want to stay with him. You’d wait a million summers more to get here.)

"Me too."

When he leans in this time, it’s sweeter than before, slower, less a declaration and more a promise. Neither of you would have to wait anymore.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Logan Sargeant is a silly little guy

@vii-tto idk why but it wouldn't let me tag you. Hopefully you see this. also @spell-of-the-rain i added things if you want to check out 75-87

But here's the list of things i know/want to know about logan sargeant

Favorite Actor is Brad Pitt

Favorite Movie is Wolf of Wall Street

Favorite food is a hamburger

Has a boat and often goes deep sea fishing

Lived in London since he was 15

Lose Yourself by Eminem is his favorite hype up song

Is a Dolphins and Heat fan

Enjoyed “No Man, No Cry” by Jimmy Sax

Drinks iced lattes with oat milk

Pumpkin spice lattes?? Edit 12/16/23: No

Has been to Wimbledon

Knows what cricket is

Has a rescue dog named Coco

Also enjoys hockey Edit 11/1/23: Supports the Florida Panthers NHL team and has gone to at least 1 of their games with his friend Kyle Kirkwood

Does he follow college football?

What does he think of the new Miami head coach? 

If not for motorsport, does he think he would have gone pro in a different sport, and if so which one?

Enjoys listening to 50 Cent (is also a big rap fan in general)

Can he speak any other languages with any degree of familiarity?

Cannot draw

Can make a sandwich (other foods?)

Rates all food from one bite and with weird decimals

Gritty-ed in his f1 car

Makes the Williams photographers look like they take good photos

Does he have an English or a Florida driver’s license? And does he still have US citizenship even though he lives in the UK? What kind of visa is he on?

Top three female athletes? (Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Megan Rapinoe are all acceptable answers) 

Collects Aussies and Kiwis for friends

Does he like the snow? Prefers the heat but does he like snow?

Does he like Missy Elliot? (Requirement) 

“Basic Halloween Bitch”

Calls people “mate” but in an American accent which will never stop being funny

Eye Crinkles™️

Does not have a set eye color he’s just too mystical for that

Has never been to a concert (presumably too busy with racing)

He can swim, he can drive, but can he ride a bike? Edit 11/15/23: He can indeed ride a bike

American commercial cars or  European ones?

Has an older brother but is like an older brother to Benny’s kid

Likes marshmallows

Does not like black beans

Did not think apple could be chips

Knows how to sail??

Knows how to golf

Can paddle (required for any F1 driver)

Lost the F3 championship in 2020 bc of a DNF in the last race

Can he sing??

Does he drink energy drinks? Red Bull or Monster? 

He and Duracell are passionately making out

Blush is very pretty 

Wears a lot of baseball hats

Somehow beat jet lag (expat king)

Mostly spends his nights in but he has some nights out (presumably very interesting ones)

Has an iPhone with a blue case

He looks very pretty in blue

His eyes are sometimes blue

Blue=fav color?? Edit 11/6/23: favorite color is Ocean blue (credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

Pretty insecure (armchair diagnosed anxiety)

Close with his brother and parents but maybe not his extended family?

Is Florida State his college team?? (Worst thing a man can be is a Florida St fan) Edit 12/16/23: believing that FSU got screwed over this year is acceptable

Did he graduate high school??

Did he ever consider going into NASCAR or did moving to Europe at a young age kind of set in stone his path towards open-wheel racing?

Hair is blond/dirty blond

Does he vote in American elections?? (If he supports RonD I cannot stan)

Burger Sauce™️

Logan Hunter Sargeant, certified Frat Bro, most American man ever

Has seen peaky blinder and presumably stranger things

Knows how to carve a pumpkin but has not celebrated Halloween at home in a bit

Possibly dating some instagram model

Caused $4 million in damages, gets payed $1 million a year, and supposedly brings in $30 million in sponsors

Key phrases: “Locked in”, “Bam/Boom”, “Done and dusted” Additions 11/1/23: "Oh hell yeah", "I think you're a little lost here, Chief". Additions 11/6/23: “Yeh” (gets quieter throughout the word (how it’s one syllable??)), “on the bounce” (credit to @spell-of-the-rain i believe)

Joined the Williams Driver Academy in 2021 

Got stuck in F3 bc he didn’t have the money to move up

Driver for Carlin in 2022

Former teammates include Liam Lawson, Oscar Piastri, Frederick Vesti (Edit 11/6/23: Max Fewtrell possibly?)

DOB: December 31, 2000

5'11

Had a giveaway for gloves he used to win an F4 race on Twitter in 2017 and both Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell replied

Originally his number was 3 but he switched to 2 for F1 (to much fan consternation who thought he had so many better options)

Childhood best friends with Kyle Kirkwood, a current Indycar driver

Logan's older brother Dalton raced in NASCAR until 2018

Did a commercial for Sport23

Does not have cowboy boots as of COTA 2023

Born in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, USA

lived in Switzerland from 14-15(?)

knows the conversion rate for a kilometer

is taller than a tuna fish

Podiumed at the Macau Grand Prix in 2019

Won the CIK-FIA championship when he was 14 Additions as of 11/1/23

Loves waffles but they are not his favorite dessert

Very patriotic (oh hell yeah)

is the first American F1 point scorer in 30 years and the first one to score on home soil since 1989

Went to see the Nets in NYC (but would have preferred to see the Knicks)

has a custom Miami Dolphins jersey with his last name on the back

Claims to know all the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" (credit to @formulaaone) (Edited 11/6/23)

Additions as of 11/6/23:

Under the same talent agency as Alex Albon

Has the same manager as George Russell

George Russell was his mentor coming up

Went to a catholic private school (credit to @wenevrknew)

Does not like fish? (Credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

He runs weird (in my opinion as he reminds me of my brother when he was 12 (he ran very strangely))

Karted in Las Vegas when he was a kid

Can he drive a stick shift? (Alex believes he cannot)

Enjoys video games

Refers to his car as “she”

Knew how to attach a visor to his helmet prior to February(? Could’ve been March but before the season) 2023

Additions as of 12/16/23

Broke his arm in a 2014 German Karting Championship when Marcus Armstrong took him out at T1 (credit to @spell-of-the-rain )

Has gotten his head eaten by the Golden Knights mascot

If he could have any superpower, he would like to teleport

Has never flown a drone

Favorite racing movie is Talladega Nights (sad Mater noises)

Does not trust other people to drive him

Would rather sleep in then get up early

Considers himself fairly organized

His mother makes a very good sweet potato casserole

Got his habit of worrying from his mom

“Santa’s Little Helper”

Driving for Williams Racing Formula 1 Team in 2024

Got out qualified by his teammate every race of 2023

[drewsbuzzcut]

Fight Or Flight

college baseball player!drew starkey x fem!reader

a college baseball au blurb

warnings: panic attacks, anxiety, reckless driving, mentions a car wreck, fear, angst

You are on your way home from Drew’s baseball game, a bad baseball game, when it happens. He wouldn’t mutter a word to you, only grabbing your hand and leading you to his car. The drive is even more silent, tension filling the empty space. You know he’s upset, but you’ve never seen him like this before. Granted you have only been together for 9 months. His hands have a deadly grip on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white and his veins bulging. You start to notice the way his chest starts rapidly moving up and down. His breathing is speeding up, becoming erratic.

“Drew, what’s wrong?” You ask softly, your hand attempting to card through his hair, but he jerks away from you causing you to flinch in return.

You have to force your hands to not reach out again. You didn’t want to make him even more upset.

His driving speeds up, your body becoming tense with nerves and maybe fear. Your eyes take turns looking at the road ahead of you and the boy beside you.

“Drew, slow down,” you say warily, gripping onto your seatbelt while your legs start to tense up.

He doesn’t hear you, just continuing to push on the gas.

You scream his name in shock, trying to not cause anymore distress but also trying to not get in a wreck.

“Drew, please!” You plead, tears gathering in your eyes and your voice getting scratchy.

He turns to look at you and when he sees the fear swimming in your eyes, he speeds off to a stop on the side of the road. You grasp onto the dashboard, willing yourself to calm down. Drew exits the truck with haste. He’s pacing in front of you, hands pulling at his hair.

You get out of the vehicle, not knowing what to do, or how to calm him down. You situate yourself to lean against the hood of the truck. You’ve never witnessed him like this before. If you are being honest, it is really scary.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breaks the awful silence, tears falling from his eyes.

You open and close your mouth, not knowing what to say. Your eyes plead with him to stop pacing and to take a deep breath. His panic makes your panic worse.

“What happened?” You ask.

“I- I can’t do this. The pressure is too much. They all want everything to be perfect, but I’m not perfect, y/n!” He rants, hands further expressing his words.

“The game was absolutely shit. I was shit. I tried my hardest and I was still shit,” he screams out, making you flinch again.

You refrain from looking at him, knowing that if you looked at his broken down state, you’d just start bawling your eyes out. You see the tops of his shoes come into vision. You feel him hover over you. It’s not intimidating, but begging for your touch. You look up, witnessing the storm in his perfect, blue eyes. He’s gasping for air. It’s enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into the comfort of your body. His face finds home in your neck, hands placed on the center of your back, keeping you pressed to him.

“It’s okay, baby. I promise everything is going to be okay. I know this game was tough, but like you said, you tried your best. You have to drown out all the unnecessary noise. Please don’t let it get to you,” you soothe him, softly whispering in his ear.

“I know,” he sniffles.

“You really scared me in the car. Maybe you should try seeing a therapist to sift through all the anxiety,” you say, trying not to come off as pushy or judgmental.

He just breaks. All the pressure breaking him into a shell of himself. The harsh sobs rack through his body. He trembles in your arms, saying sorry as if it were a mantra. He really didn’t mean to scare you, he just couldn’t find his way out of all the negative thoughts.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. Please,” he cries, tears wetting the skin of your neck. His hands are gripping the material of your hoodie that belongs to him.

“Please? Please what?” You ask, confusion replacing the fear in your body.

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. You shouldn’t even be with me; I just put you in danger. I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he blurts, separating himself from you. It’s almost as if your touch burned him, and that hurt you.

You attempt to walk towards him, but he quickly backs away, holding out his hand to stop you from continuing. He shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes again. You see the way his body is starting to cave on himself, he is hurting and he isn’t letting you help. You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his waist even though his arms stay frozen at his sides. You rub his back before grabbing onto his cheeks, dragging his face down to meet yours.

“Listen to me, yes, you scared me, but I’m fine. You just had a panic attack. I’m not scared of you, and I’m not in danger anymore. I love you so much, you know that,” you whisper into his ear.

“Let me drive us back to yours. You need to shower and rest, cowboy,” you say, feeling his body go lax in your hold.

The drive home is silent, but free of panic.

Arriving at Drew’s dorm room, you lay in his bed, waiting for him to come out the shower. When he does, he quickly climbs into bed next to you.

He’s staring at the ceiling, on his back and you’re facing him while on your side. Once he connects his eyes with yours they starting watering again. You notice the way his chest is starting to heave again. You scoot closer to him, grabbing his hand and placing it over your heart. The consistent thumps calm him down. You let your hands massage his scalp, putting him to sleep. You rub your nose against his, telling him how much you love him and how you’ll always be there for him.

a/n: A little on the heavier side, but I just wanted to show how strong their relationship has been since the beginning. Hope you all enjoy!

taglist: @maybankslover @91vhs @sp00ky-spr1te @livsters @seris-circle @one-sweet-gubler @a06e @tiacordelia02 @ijustwanttoreadlols @a23starkey @cameronmedia @mutual-mendes

[starlightkun]

2024 tumblr wrapped

i was (sort of) tagged by @suhnandmoon (ilysm sunny you're literally so sweet im so honored that pur autre vie and the strawbsunday anthology were some of your favorite fics of 2024). i wrote so many fics that i'm really proud of, tried out new genres, and just had so, so much fun writing in 2024 (so much so that i wrote like 150k more than i did in 2023...)

2024 fic stats

number of works posted: 25 ! (i counted sequels that had different titles to the original fic as separate and multi-parts that were just part 1, 2, etc. as one work) fics in progress: 2 (oh my god who am i?? i only have two official wips wth) total words written: 392.3k in 2024 (that's actually so crazy omfg... i think i need to go outside actually)

top 5 fics (by notes)

1. that hot (sungchan x reader, meet-ugly/forced proximity trope) 2. tongue-tied (model!jeno x journalist!reader, revised sleepless cinderella route for a former member that was deleted) 3. filler episodes (punk drummer!sungchan x normie!reader, band au, the beginning of the venue:hell au) 4. out of left field (baseball player!jisung x rich kid!reader, brother's best friend au/college au, holiday themed) (yall omg that was posted a week before the end of the year?) 5. tourist trapped (sungchan x reader, getting stuck on a ferris wheel, secret relationship)

fun fact, half of my top ten most popular fics in 2024 were sungchan fics

most recent fic

out of left field (baseball player!jisung x rich kid!reader, brother's best friend au/college au, holiday themed)

longest fic

frankenstein complex BY FAR at almost 68k words lmao

favorite fic i wrote

god this is SO HARD, i played around in so many new genres and with a lot of different dynamics and just put out SO MANY fics i adore... if i had to pick ONE, it really has to be frankenstein complex. even tho it didn't get nearly the notes that my other fics do, i did it for the arts not the charts and the people who did read it left THE MOST AMAZING FEEDBACK EVER AND WERE SO INTERACTIVE AND INVESTED it rlly has been... dare i say... a cult classic. sci-fi is my favorite genre to read in my own free time and it was so much fun to finally take a crack at writing it this year (twice)

goal for 2025

keep having fun!!! like i felt absolutely zero pressure or stress while writing this year, it truly was my favorite hobby, and i really want to keep that groove in 2025. ngl, i wouldn't mind my word count going down IF it means that i'm like going out doing things and hanging out with friends and stuff 😅 like this year was incredible from a creative standpoint, but also between work and this, i spent a lot of time inside on a computer...

fave fics books i read this year

sooo i don't really read fic anymore blasphemous i know, but i will rec my favorite books that i read this year:

the complete robot - isaac asimov

this isn't actually all of asimov's robot short stories, but it's most of them. some of his lore was direct inspiration for frankenstein complex. i like this particular compilation not only bc it has all of my favorite short stories, but i think the introduction at the beginning is worth reading as well. asimov discusses the difference between Robot-as-Menace and Robot-as-Pathos stories and i think abt it all the time. my favorite short stories in here are robbie(!!), light verse(!), true love, satisfaction guaranteed(!), feminine intuition, reason, and the bicentennial man(!)

mouthful of birds - samanta schweblin (translated by megan mcdowell)

this is another short story compilation with several focusing on women and various, insidious ways that they're oppressed under the patriarchy (also, the author is argentine, and the characters/setting are clearly meant to be in south america as well), but it's all shown and represented through a surrealist, borderline horror lens at some points. like, don't read this one if you're looking for a light, easy read. there's some body horror and odd, dark imagery, but it's also so, so good. my favorites are mouthful of birds(!!), headlights, the merman(!!), heads against concrete, a great effort, the heavy suitcase of benavides(!)

being mortal - atul gawande

this is a nonfiction book about how we approach mortality, dying, end of life care, and death in the west. the author is a doctor and provides a lot of great insight both professionally and personally. despite the topic, i found it actually be a very optimistic and inspiring read if you can handle open and honest conversation and depictions of grief and mourning

don't really have anyone to tag and it's also super late to be doing this! but if anyone sees this and wants to do it go for it and tag me, i'd love to see it and also make new writer moots <33

[miniscule-meow]

G/t ask game A 20 🫢

Random fun facts!

Marcus: Marcus is a sporty guy (tm) This is filed under "pieces of info about this character that I hold, but may never do anything with." For a while I figured he played baseball. Now I think it's hockey. Either way, he can definitely ice skate. I think he plays with his college, but even if he didn't he would be involved like in a local community team.

Zeke: I talk about Zeke a lot in the story, I'm not sure what else there is to really say about him. He wants to own his own shop for alterations one day. He likes to paint his nails, usually black or green. He's always liked miniature things, he thinks they're super cute. So, with Isabell being around, he really likes making tiny things for her. He loves reading, typically like epic fantasy stuff like The Wheel of Time.

Isabell: If Isabell was human, she would still be really short. Like, 5'2" also, she would be a ballerina. This has also been something that has been true about her in my brain for forever, and I've just never talked about it before.

Felix: Felix holds all of my anger. He is responsible for it, and he keeps it safe. When I first wrote his story, he was very chill. He very quickly gained sentience in my brain and was very loud about how he is very much NOT chill. He craves violence. I'm still ironing out the pieces with him, but I feel like his story can be really really cool. I'm just a little daunted by the world building, honestly. I'm torn between wanting to write something grand and epic and just wanting to write some lil scenarios. Especially because he's a size shifter, so not every chapter has actual G/t in it, and that's not great for the notes lol. But, while I desire the validation of the numbers going up on my posts, I don't write just for that. I want the story to be... good.

Sometimes I forget about how many backlog WIPs I have, compared to what I've actually posted. I don't know exactly the direction I will settle on for them, but I'm really excited about it.

Charlie: If Charlie was real, we would be best friends. She's so cool. She's also like. fearless. obviously there are things she's afraid of but she doesn't back down, not without a fight. (it's just that... Felix loves a fight, and he will usually win)

Deckard: my disaster boy. I love this silly little guy. His self-sabotaging nature is so enthralling to me. He is the master of bad decisions with good(eh?) intentions. Pretty much all of my OCs have like some sense of like, preference towards honesty and communication. but this guy? He just likes to lie. A true unreliable narrator here.

Lark: I don't know if this is necessarily a fun fact, but I think Lark is my least favorite OC. I am planning on a full re-do on their story. The bones are there, she just feels really flat to me. My first chapters in this story are really really old. I feel like I can do better now, and there are new choices that are more exciting to me.

[psuedochakra]

swing away

Rating: Teen

Summary: While Ice and Mav are away, the Daggers borrow their larger living room to watch movies. Signs has been chosen this time, and now they really need to know which among them would excel at saving the day.

Word Count: 1120

Status: complete!

Tags: canon divergence, background icemav, crack treated seriously, minor spoilers for signs (2001)

This was a silly little crack idea I had while I was watching Signs at work! I hope you enjoy

“Anybody could do it!”

⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️💦👽

“I think I could do it.”

“Fuck you. That's not my point. I'm saying I'd be the fastest.”

“No way. I played baseball in college. I can swing a bat.”

“Yeah intramural baseball!”

“Your mom's intramural!”

“Fuck you! My mother is a saint!”

“Saint of intramural!”

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“You don't make sense!”

“Just… let them get it out.”

“Get you out.”

Payback's whistle is shrill, but it disrupts the argument. Everyone else either winces or covers their ears.

“There's only one way to settle this,” he announces.

“Contest!” Fanboy cheers.

“Wait,” Rooster starts, “How's that gonna work?”

“We fill glasses with water and swing at them with a bat,” Hangman rolls his eyes, “Obviously. Ow!”

Phoenix pinches the back of his arm. Hangman scowls at her as he lightly massages the spot. Everyone starts discussing the contest. Rooster stares at the rest of the Daggers like they've collectively lost their minds. 

“Guys, we can't break my uncles’ glasses,” Rooster explains, exasperated. “In their house? Everything would get ruined!”

They all look at each other like that hadn't been considered. Because it didn't even cross their minds.

“Well, what about plastic cups?” Coyote offers.

“The weight would be wrong,” Bob points out.

“The nicer plastic cups,” Omaha suggests.

Harvard adds, “We could do it outside.”

Halo brings up thrift store glasses. Which is a great idea because they also need a baseball bat. Rooster, again, relays his concern over water and broken glass getting everywhere. Harvard, again, brings up the backyard. 

“We're not saying in the house, Rooster. What about the garage?” Coyote reasons.

Luckily, the garage is mostly empty. Mav's tools are in there, of course. Most of his bikes are at the hanger. Ice's old Chevrolet Camaro IROC is under a trap. Rooster concedes it will probably be okay. Some of the tool chests are on wheels and open.

The Daggers break into teams. Rooster, Hangman, Omaha, Fanboy and Halo stay at the house to reorganize the garage. Chests and benches are moved around to better replicate the movie shots. Fanboy directs them around. Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote go to get glasses and a couple of bats. Yale, Harvard, Fritz, and Payback are also on a glass run, but they're looking for tarps and towels too. 

Finding enough glasses for everyone is the hardest part. Both teams cleared out two second hand stores worth of cups. Team Phoenix also hit up a dollar store for the fancy plastic glasses too. It takes a few hours, but they get the garage all set up. There's a mix of dollar store plastic and glass-glasses for everyone to try. 

“So parameters?” Hangman asks, twirling one of the bats in his hands.

“Fastest?” Fanboy shrugs.

“Most glass broken in the least time?” Halo suggests.

“How long does Joaquin Phoenix do it?” Payback muses, looking to Fanboy for the answer.

“If he could go all night, I'd be happy,” Phoenix mumbles to Halo. The two women giggle.

“Unfortunately, ladies, he's pretty fast,” snickers Hangman.

“We don’t have a lot of glasses,” Bob says, “I’m thinking max time of 30 seconds for ten glasses.”

The rules are discussed. Not for very long, but they mull it over for at least five minutes. They draw straws to determine order. Fanboy, Halo, Coyote, Rooster, Fritz, Payback, Yale, Phoenix, Bob, Omaha, Hangman, and finally Harvard. There's five glasses and five hard plastic cups to smash (or knock over). The hitter leaves while everyone else resets, so nobody knows where the cups are until their time starts.

Rooster's still nervous about the whole thing by the time his turn comes around. Which honestly doesn't take long. Fanboy gets a bad start and exceeds the maximum time, Halo smashes every cup in 20 seconds, and Coyote only takes 28 seconds. He steps back in the garage, eyes closed. Phoenix counts him down from ten. She gets to “one, go” and he swings away. Rooster had played baseball in high school; he was even scouted. But the only thing on his mind back then was flying, so he turned the scouts down. Mentally, he counts the cups as he swings. He doesn’t think about how long it takes.

The last cup is one of the hard plastic ones. With a loud crack, he sends it flying. It crashes somewhere in the garage with a dull thump and soft shatter. Rooster’s eyes widen as he realizes what the cup collided with. The IROC. Rooster learned how to drive in that car (he was technically only 14 at the time, but Ice let him drive around an empty parking lot a few times). Iceman had that car for as long as Rooster could remember.

“Ooh! New record!” Hangman cheers.

As he’s talking, the garage door starts to roll up. Rooster drops the bat. The Daggers immediately quiet down.

“What the fuck!,” Mav exclaims, “I heard shouting from the end of the driveway and… What the fuck!”

“I uh,” Rooster blinks.

“We were doing uh,” Fanboy starts.

Payback picks it up, “You ever see Signs?”

“Joaquin Phoenix smashes a bunch of water glasses to injure aliens,” Harvard continues.

“Right, and we wanted to see which one of us would win,” Halo adds.

“She means do it the fastest,” Fritz clarifies.

Hangman tacks on, “The aliens, they don’t like water.”

Maverick looks at them like they’re all crazy. He stalks over to the car, glass crunching under his feet, and peers under the tarp. Mav inhales sharply through his teeth. Rooster winces. 

“Side mirror is busted,” Mav tells them.

“I’m sorry,” Rooster sighs.

“Ice loves this stupid car.”

“I know. I’ll get it fixed, I swear!”

“Yeah, you will. What were you thinking, guys?”

The Daggers mumble their heartfelt apologies. Nobody can admit they weren’t thinking, because there was a whole plan. It was just stupid. Everyone starts cleaning. The garage is put back how it was. Maverick dismisses them all.

“Not you, Rooster,” he says.

Rooster freezes. They all stop, actually. Everyone’s looking at him.

“You’re grounded,” Mav sighs.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Rooster processes what Maverick just said. 

“You can’t ground me,” Rooster scoffs, “I’m 34!”

“Act like it next time,” Mav retorts, “Guest room, now.”

Snickers ripple through the rest of the Daggers. Rooster’s face flushes. He’s not entirely unconvinced Maverick won’t haul him into the house by his ear. Mav glares past Rooster. The squad silences immediately.

“The rest of you I’ll deal with Monday,” Maverick warns them.

More apologies are offered. Everyone’s quiet as they shuffle off. Phoenix gives Rooster a sympathetic look and mouths ‘sorry’ at him. He waves as she gets in Bob’s car.

[ladywaffles]

humpback whales

mavdad + whales: a discord prompt written for @nicejobkid

So here’s the thing.

Bradley Bradshaw was all of eighteen years old with a head full of exactly jackshit nothing when he left Maverick and Iceman’s house on the end of the street. He didn’t know a goddamn thing about being an adult, even if he claimed otherwise. He left behind an entire life: baby pictures and journals and reels of home videos.

He really did think leaving was the only choice he had. In hindsight, it’s the dumbest thing he’s ever done.

On the one hand, he knew it would be fine. The Navy always provides. He got three square meals a day at Basic and an annual physical that he always aced, thanks to a lifetime of playing baseball and racing Maverick around the diamond. His old man had no right sprinting that fast.

But then there’s the other hand: the calendar of shots and immunizations a teenage boy going off to college required, the yearly appointments with an optometrist, a dermatologist, and most crucially of all, a dentist.

Bradley, Iceman always said, was blessed in that he didn’t take after either Goose or Maverick, both of whom had terrible teeth. Their x-rays were surely some kind of dental case study in a textbook somewhere. But Bradley had taken after his mother and Iceman, in this regard: his teeth all came in like ducks in a row, pearly white like ivory piano keys.

Maybe it was just bad timing, maybe it was because his teeth were just that good, but when he enlisted, no one bothered to ask Ensign Bradshaw if he’d ever had his wisdom teeth out.

So fifteen years later, with a toothache so bad it’s finally driven him to the clinic—and isn’t that embarrassing, to survive Maverick Mitchell’s particular brand of insanity, an ejection out of an F-18, a dogfight in a jet that had no business being in the air, and a (controlled!) crash landing, only to be done in by a goddamn toothache—Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, aged thirty-four, with his newly re-acquired father in tow, has his wisdom teeth removed.

They don’t hook him up with an IV, thank goodness. Instead, they give Maverick a packet of pills to make Bradley take an hour before surgery that will supposedly knock him out for the duration.

As a member of the F-18 Ejection Club, Bradley’s been on the good shit for the past few months. He has sincere doubts about these pills.

“Bottoms up, kiddo,” Maverick tells him, pushing the pills towards him with a cup of coffee. It’s the same mug he gave Maverick for Father’s Day when he was ten years old.

“You’re the worst,” Bradley says, swallowing the pills in one go with a scalding hot gulp.

Later, Maverick will laugh at him over the dinner table as he recounts to Ice what exactly happened when Bradley had his wisdom teeth out. (He really shouldn’t have doubted those pills.)

The meds hit about fifteen minutes after he takes them. It falls to Maverick, all five-foot-and-change of him, to wrangle six-foot-oh of Bradley into the Bronco, strap him in, and haul him back out into the dentist’s office. He vaguely remembers being wheeled into one of the surgery rooms and led to sit on the chair, falling asleep, and then waking up to the dentist telling him they’d finished taking his teeth and they just needed to stitch him up.

He immediately bursts into tears—he hates stitches more than anything—and then conks straight out again.

He doesn’t really remember getting home, only that the next time he wakes up, he’s back in Maverick and Ice’s house, laid out on the couch. Maverick is whistling in the kitchen. He’d covered Bradley with an old blanket. A smart move on his part; Bradley drooled on it in his sleep.

Maverick comes back into the room with two bowls of very boring chicken broth.

“Good morning!” he teases. “I didn’t know you were such a lightweight, ducky!”

“Yuh’re de wurst,” Bradley gums through the cotton gauze in his mouth.

Mav hands him a bowl and a spoon. The broth is barely hot. Gross. He looks up at Maverick with the same baleful expression he used to get dessert before dinner as a kid, but Maverick just laughs at him.

“No dice here, Brads. You’re not getting anything hotter, unless you wanna get your stitches replaced.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and slurps his lukewarm soup.

Maverick flips on the TV. He turns on a nature documentary on humpback whales, then kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, the exact way that Bradley knows Ice doesn’t let him.

He can see straight through Maverick. It’s the same routine he used to do when Bradley would stay home from school sick. Animal Planet never failed to knock him out. It was more effective than anything else at getting him to sleep.

But this time, Bradley finds himself staying awake as he watches this otherwise ordinary whale documentary with Maverick sitting next to him on the couch. He’s an adult now, but Maverick is treating him as if no time has passed. There’s no resentment, no blame, for all the pain he’d caused his father.

He missed moments like this, in the years they spent apart. He’d almost forgotten how nice it was to have someone to care for you.

In the end, Bradley stays awake for the whole movie. It’s Maverick who falls asleep, his head lolling to the side to rest on Bradley’s shoulder. It’s not such a bad place to be, Bradley thinks to himself, trapped on a cozy couch with his dad.

He hits play on the documentary again and settles in closer to Maverick. The whales are pretty cool, after all.

[georgiapeach30513]

I got baseball, Ari, smut, character discovers fanfic of themselves, college, multiple men, and step brother. My mind is running wild with Ari and his best friend with “little sister” who writes, but you do what you think is best. 😏

*gulps* *fans self*….I wasn’t prepared!!

You were a dreamer. Dreamed of writing a beloved and explicit dark romance novel. Ari was cocky, and carved by the gods. He was your favorite muse. He was your step brother. He was an ass for digging through your things and having fun reading the most salacious story you had ever written. About Red Sox players and their sweet Fawn. Ari, August, and Frank had no problem in helping your research….

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Please do the Chris Evans pottery fic! I legit have always thought about for years! Like him taking a night class or a private class for anxiety or hobby (that Scott guilted him to take) so he doesn’t get recognized and the reader (please preferably male) vaguely knows who he is and doesn’t care and teaches him and he falls in love with reader. Like a slow burn. Bro please I’m on my knees begging 🙏 your writing is god tier for Chris fics

related to this

First and foremost I have to say, goddamn, you really went back into the archives to find that post 💀💀 don't get me wrong, I appreciate the hell out of you for that but, also, oof, have I already been on Tumblr for 3 fucking years!?

What? When?

Second, I actually never thought too much about that idea haha. I just couldn't get past the idea of Chris using his hands in that way 🥴 because look, I'm much more of a sculptor than a potter, but it has never been lost on me (a) how much skill it takes to throw on the wheel, and (b) how fucking hot it can look lmao

So, because I never thought too deep about the idea beyond the look, I have to say That's A 👏🏻 Top 👏🏻 Notch 👏🏻 Idea 👏🏻

I love that idea, like:

Chris rolls up to a night pottery class with a baseball cap pulled down real low, trying not to be noticed, squeezing his shoulders in to be less big and noticeable.

You notice him though--he looks a little funny, trying so hard not to stand out and obviously not realizing that a long sleeve, chunky cardigan is 100% the wrong thing to wear when you're about to be playing with clay. But, you don't care about him being Mr. Movie Star (or dressed badly for this activity lol) because, obviously, if he's here for a class, he wants to learn

(Later you'll learn that Scott was the one to push him into it, telling him, lovingly, to quit just talking about beginning to work with his hands and actually Do It)

and so, he's gonna learn.

You are the teacher though, so... it's your duty to keep the secret that Captain America is in their midst.

(But that won't keep you from teasing him subtlety by asking him if he'd perhaps like a blue or red or clear glaze)

Chris might not pick up the skill of throwing as quickly as some of the others (mostly because he's never messed with clay before while many of the other students have even if it was years ago in high school or college or wherever), but he's dedicated.

He puts his all into learning throwing.

You learn quickly, instructing Chris, that he has this tendency to squeeze a little too hard and over-correct the clay. The strength he's got comes in handy with wedging clay and assisting in reconstructing the electric kilns by putting in the heavy shelves, but, when on the wheel, it's not about how hard you can press the clay, how hard you can squeeze it, or anything like that (unless you're working on huge, HUGE projects with massive amounts of clay... but, these students are not there yet). It's about letting your hands glide over the clay, it's encouraging the clay to stretch and compress delicately.

Pottery very much more finesse than force.

And you tell him that a lot in the beginning, "relax, for now, don't try to control it too much. Try to let go and just feel. Keep your elbows anchored in your hips and thighs, but, otherwise, stay loose and relaxed. Breath out. Sink into it, y’know? Relax."

Chris laughs, looking up at you from the little mound of clay he's been centering on his wheel head, "I didn't know this would be so... spiritual? I mean, shit, this feels like therapy."

"Ha," you say, "just be glad it's therapy and not Ghost."

Chris chuckles, "are those my only two options?"

"Right now, rookie? Yes." You point back at his unattended and still spinning wheel, "now, please put your nose back to the grindstone before I'm forced to saddle up behind you. I don't need to be shot in the streets before I get hands-on with my teaching"

You swear, under that cap and beard, Chris blushes. But. He also gets back to work, so... you can't be sure you're not just seeing things 👀

There are a lot of little moments like that throughout the class. Flirting. Maybe. Maybe not. Chris might just be that charming. You can't be too sure.

It's very charming to watch Chris pick up his wobbly creations after they've been put through the bisque kiln and laugh at their unstable bumps and lumps as he tries to set them flat on the table. Plus, when he sands his pieces, he murmurs to himself, talking about all the silly mistakes he finds. Nail marks. Dips. Bulges. Extra bits of clay he missed when trimming. You swear you hear him call himself a "meatball" once...

That is a challenge to not laugh at, but, you don't because you don't want him to know you're paying such close attention to him. (You can't have favorite students after all 😘)

And later, it's very sweet to watch him admire his first glazed pieces. He's very gentle with them, running his fingers back and forth, back and forth, over the smooth glaze. He seems to enjoy the smooth sensation.

Also, listen, I have no proof but I feel like Chris is gonna be the type of potter that gets Really Messy. Like, clay and slip all over his hands, of course, but also all up his forearms and flecks of it on his face and in his hair. His poor apron and shoes.

Also, I think Chris would be the type of potter that wipes their hands on their thighs over their apron 😮‍💨

Chris takes one class then another and another. He's getting much, much better.

But, he still looks like he's watching you perform magic when you quickly throw a vace or pie platter for a demonstration. It's really endearing. You'd love to see more of his face while watching you work, but, no matter how good you are at pottery, you can't do it without looking. Not yet... maybe someday, if you keep practicing.

And eventually, I'd like to think that you exchange numbers. Chris no longer takes your class and so it's fair game.

He comes over to your place and you cook a meal together because you already know each other well enough. So, you skip the more public dates that are better for strangers.

Chris seems mystified by the fact that ALL your plates, bowls, mugs, etc. are things you've made. Thrown on the pottery wheel. He just thinks it's very cool and personal. Also, he swears because of taking your class that he can't look at a factory-made plate or bowl or mug the same. They look so plain and lifeless now. In return, you tease that you'd offer to make him a set for his own home as a present (maybe for his birthday or Christmas) but, you're gonna insist that he at least try to make a set himself first.

And, hey, if he needs more encouragement maybe that Ghost option could come true...

Sorry, this is so short but I just had to get some real quick thoughts out between study sessions lol

Thank you so much for bringing this up again and thank you for reading!!

[jimi-rawlings]

ROCKSTAR TUTELARY DEITY

Spirit: Jimi Hendrix

Call me Jimi Rawlings and Let me Swag out the Brand through Nike Collabs

Jimi Hendrix as Ancestral Deity with Visual-Spatial and Kinaesthetic Spiritual Genome Editing

TONY GWYNN HITTING

He was less concerned with getting a hit in a particular at-bat and was more focused with being comfortable at the plate, having a fluid swing, and making solid contact. Over the course of the season, he figured it would result in success.[34]

Gwynn was hard-working and known for his work ethic and devotion to extra batting practice.[3][13][185][197] On the road, he stayed in his hotel room, studying video of his at-bats or playing video games.[68][198]

In the first 12 years of his MLB career, Gwynn used a 32½-inch, 31-ounce bat. In his final eight years, he employed a 33-inch, 30½-ounce bat.[d][11][29] Gwynn wanted his wooden bats light like his aluminum ones in college. Instead of having the barrel of his bats shaved, as many batters do, he had them "cupped", with the end of the barrel hollowed out like the bottom of a wine bottle.[176]

MODERN DAY KANSAS CITY MONARCHS AT METRODOME (BLACK MAFIA)

Season Ticket Holders

What it is: Sports tourism is a type of tourism activity which refers to the travel experience of the tourist who either observes as a spectator or actively participates in a sporting event generally involving commercial and non-commercial activities of a competitive nature.

Baserunning Sabermetrics and Sportsbooks

Weaver's style of managing was summed up in the quote: "pitching, defense, and the three-run homer."

UZR Prospect: Jimi Rawlings

Ultimate Zone Rating (UZR)

Definition

UZR quantifies a player's entire defensive performance by attempting to measure how many runs a defender saved. It takes into account errors, range, outfield arm and double-play ability. It differs slightly from DRS (Defensive Runs Saved) in its formula, but the concept is the same.

Traditional Baseball Training: Gymnastics Rings and Landmine Circuit Training; Sledgehammer Training; Kettlebell Hip Isometric-Mobility; Léger Model with French Contrast Training for 60m Jamaican Sprint Training

Nike White Home Jersey matches Ball and Turf Sneakers with Astro Turf Bullpen Foul Line Dead Ball Era Entertainment District/Maritime Stadiums.

I am on Elite Models; I am running London Fashion Week through Burberry.

I use Ghostwriters and YouTube Freestyle DJs instead of Rap Crew.

Off Season Science Experiments through Baseball Kids Show.

Subsistence Construction with Architecture Arithmetic Skills for Astrodome Ballparks

Kansas City Barbeque Society is a competitive cooking organization based in Kansas City, Missouri, famous for Kansas City BBQ. It is the largest competitive barbecue organization in the world, with more than 15,000 members.[1] It was founded in 1985 by Carolyn and Gary Wells and Rick Welch. Their desire was to put together a local group for competitive barbecue. It has since grown and provides oversight to hundreds of competitions.

3 Run Home Run, No Errors, and 5 Holding Relievers, 5 Openers, & 3 Closers.

Batting Line Up WITH Pitchers: BUNT P-5; Top 4 is 3 Run Home Run and Bottom 4 is Slap Baseball.

Defense: C, SS, 2B RF are Slap Baseball and 1B, 3B, CF, LF are 3 Run Home Run. NO DOUBLES WITH CORNER IF/OF; RANGE UZR WITH CF, SS, 2B

DYNAMIC HITTING AREA BATTING TEE UMBRELLA

Mechanics then Drill — Jimi Rawlings

Exit Zone Cage (Shorter Roof Cage Soft Toss)

Wiffle Ball (Free Swing)

Creep Drill (115 MPH with 60.6 Inches)

MY UZR: PUTOUTS; BASERUNNING/ARM VALUE

A Statcast metric designed to use data to evaluate the performance of baserunners and outfielders in taking or preventing extra bases.

BATTING SPIRIT: PRINCE FIELDER

Toe Tap with Sidearm Top Hand and Bottom Hand Bat Lag Manipulated Release with Over Shoulder Ferris Wheel Diamond Strike Zone with + Slice & Hook Visual Aids

INFIELD SPIRIT: ERNIE BANKS

1B One Hoppers for SS One Handed-Fielding

OUTFIELD TRIO SPIRIT: ANDREW MCCUTCHEN; TONY GWYNN; AND RICKY HENDERSON

Bat Lag with Manipulated Release 34 Inch 32 Ounce Wine Cup Maple Bat; Running Back to Full Back age 20-30/30-40

Drive Phase with Head First Slide or Closing Speed Catch

Toe-Tap-Flamingo Strike Count Indicator Swings

EXECUTIVE SPIRIT: RUBE FOSTER, BUCK LEONARD, FERGIE JENKINS, AND WILLIE MAYS

Feeder Club Gentertrification Union Depot Metro;

Grassroots; Prep School; for Metrodome

Investor Invite 20 Per Game Wine Course Meal Red Wine-Lamb with Spices-Herbs and Cheesy Potatoes; Smoked Meat Kansas City BBQ/Subs Ghost Kitchen Course Meal Reference Appetizers Kebab, Cleansing Salad Coleslaw; Entrée Lamb Creamy Cheesy Spice/Herbs Savory Potatoes; Banana Desserts; Ballpark Bagel/Coffee Pistachio/Strawberry/Banana Bakery; Rube Foster developed a style of play that emphasized speed, bunting, place hitting, power pitching, and defense. As a manager and team owner, Foster was a disciplinarian. He asserted control over every aspect of the game, and set a high standard for personal conduct, appearance, and professionalism among his players. In 1920, Foster, Taylor, and the owners of six other midwestern (Rural Area) clubs met in the spring to form a professional baseball circuit for African-American teams; Focus on Outfield and Pitching (Andrew McCutchen or Doc Gooden); CB based HR Derby; Negro League Museum Jazz Society Union OPS% w/ XB and Bunt% (TB + Bunt In Play) as a Lead Off Hitter Trixie-Parlay; Runs Completed% (Total Bases ÷ Runs); Options Trading Derivative Turf Arithmetic Accounting TOTAL BASES, =, and % (Pythagorean Theorem); Wood Bleachers with Astro Turf 400FT CF & 60,000 Capacity; 3 Inning Saves

Great Lakes Region LLWS; KC OT to Chicago: The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum (NLBM) is a privately funded museum dedicated to preserving the history of Negro league baseball in America. It was founded in 1990 in Kansas City, Missouri, in the historic 18th & Vine District, the hub of African-American cultural activity in Kansas City during the first half of the 20th century. The NLBM shares its building with the American Jazz Museum. Outfield Hats Oversized No TV Dives; Sol White's History of Colored Baseball with Other Documents on the Early Black Game, 1886-1936; The Pays d'en Haut (French: [pɛ.i dɑ̃ o]; Upper Country) was a territory of New France covering the regions of North America located west of Montreal. The vast territory included most of the Great Lakes region, expanding west and south over time into the North American continent as the French had explored.

ALEJANDRO POMPEZ AND SOL WHITE NEGRO LEAGUE MUSEUM JAZZ SOCIETY UNION

uzr for modern all star negro leagues

Jean-Claude Traoré CF; Jazz Chisolm 2B; Javier Báez SS

draft kings youtube highlights

A + B (OPS% w/ XB) = C Bunt% (TB + Bunt In Play) as a Lead Off Hitter Trixie-Parlay; Runs Completed% (Total Bases ÷ Runs); Options Trading Derivative Turf Arithmetic Accounting A + B (UZR%) = C (TOTAL BASES) (Pythagorean Theorem); TB with Baserunning/Throwing Value UZR is Frame

GOLD HEDGING RESEARCH

Executive MBA

Kellogg offers an Executive MBA program designed for senior and mid-career executives. Executives can choose between two campuses, Evanston and Miami, and also two schedules, one weekend a month or two weekends a month.

IFÁ Cluster Jewelry: IFÁ mean Divination System through Orunmila Santería/Yoruba Orisha

Amber as a Hedge

STARBUCKS & SEPHORA COFFEE RIGHTS

Ethiopia and Oxfam America urged Starbucks to sign a licensing agreement with Ethiopia to help boost prices paid to farmers. At issue was Starbucks' use of Ethiopia's famed coffee brands—Guji, Sidamo, Yirgacheffe and Harar—that generate high margins for Starbucks and cost consumers a premium, yet generated very low prices to Ethiopian farmers. Cappuccino (/ˌkæpʊˈtʃiːnoʊ/ ⓘ, Italian: [kapputˈtʃiːno]; from German Kapuziner)[1] is an espresso-based coffee drink that is traditionally prepared with steamed milk including a layer of milk foam.[2] Variations of the drink involve the use of cream instead of milk, using non-dairy milk substitutes and flavoring with cocoa powder (in Europe and Australasia) or cinnamon (in the United States).[3][4] It is typically smaller in volume than that of a latte, and topped with a thick layer of foam rather than being made with microfoam.[5]

A liqueur coffee is a caffeinated alcoholic drink that consists of a shot of liqueur, mixed with coffee. It is typically served in a liqueur glass, often accompanied with cream and sugar. Coffee liqueur beverages are served in different fashions and can be found throughout many countries. One of the most popular liqueur coffee beverage is commonly known as Irish coffee.[1] Liqueur coffee beverages are largely classified as cocktails as well as digestifs which are aimed at aiding the digestive process typically after a meal.

Coffee is well known as a cosmetic ingredient, particularly due to the presence of phenolic compounds, such as chlorogenic acids, and caffeine. Caffeine is widely used in cosmetic formulations due to its photoprotector and anti-aging properties, as well as lipolytic action in cellulitis, and hair regrowth.

SHOP GLD IMAGE RIGHTS

Subsistence Factory/Metallurgy for Industrial City-Rural Areas State; Chefs; Farmers; Blacksmith Trade School; Let me sell Baseball Jerseys through GLD SHOP Exhibitions at the High School Level. I will find swag guys to wear my clothing. It's an UNOFFICIAL GAME at the Wrigley Field… I will Brand Activation my Consumers with HS Home Run Derby's in Pro Fields; Rap Video Directors and Jewelry Leasing. Mining REITs; 51% Equity; Quarterly Gross Revenue Rent; Cash Conversion Cycle: Accessories, Tattoos and Car Decals, Med Spa, Salon, Apparel

Gold: OTC Risk Management Solutions for Gold, Silver, Platinum, Palladium and Rhodium

Futures Options and Clearing for CME traded precious metals contracts

OTC Averaging Swaps

LBMA Fixing Averaging Forwards

Precious Metals Inventory Financing

Precious Metals Leasing and Deposits

Doré Financing

Transportation and custody/storage of physical products

HOME DEPOT REAL ESTATE AGENT IMAGE RIGHTS

The Home Depot, Inc. is an American multinational home improvement retail corporation that sells tools, construction products, appliances, and services, including fuel and transportation rentals. Home Depot is the largest home improvement retailer in the United States.[4] In 2021, the company had 490,600 employees and more than $151 billion in revenue. The company is headquartered in unincorporated Cobb County, Georgia, with an Atlanta mailing address.[citation needed]

Real Estate Intrinsic Value Think Tank; Solar Panel Real Estate Investment Group

TD BANK — BOUTIQUE HOTEL IMAGE RIGHTS

The Hu. Hotel[2][3] is a luxury boutique hotel in Downtown Memphis, Tennessee, United States, located in the historic former Tennessee Trust Bank building.

TD Bank, N.A. is an American national bank and the United States subsidiary of the multinational TD Bank Group. It operates primarily across the East Coast, in 15 U.S. states and Washington, D.C. TD Bank is the seventh-largest U.S. bank by deposits and the 10th largest bank in the United States by total assets, resulting from a series of several mergers and acquisitions. TD Bank, N.A. is headquartered in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, an inner suburb eight miles (13 km) outside Philadelphia. TD Bank is a federally chartered bank, thus its trading name bears "N.A." letters. TD Ballpark, originally Dunedin Stadium at Grant Field, is a baseball field located in Dunedin, Florida. The stadium was built in 1990 and holds 8,500 people. It is the spring training home of the Toronto Blue Jays, as well as home to the Dunedin Blue Jays of the Florida State League and the Dunedin High School Falcons baseball team. The stadium has also been known as Knology Park (2004–2008) and Florida Auto Exchange Stadium (2010–2017).

Take a Declining Bank and Renovate it to a Boutique Hotel for an Enterprise Foundation.

FARMLAND PARTNERS IMAGE RIGHTS 

This includes Real Estate Private Equity (REPE), Real Estate Investment Management, Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs), and Real Estate Brokerage.

REIGs Homestead Rental Properties 

In the most basic terms, a real estate investment company invests clients' assets in real estate and provides them with profits on those investments in exchange for a fee. Typically, this is the well-known approach of renovating completely and then reselling for a profit.

Rural economics is the study of rural economies. Rural economies include both agricultural and non-agricultural industries, so rural economics has broader concerns than agricultural economics which focus more on food systems.[1] Rural development[2] and finance[3] attempt to solve larger challenges within rural economics. These economic issues are often connected to the migration from rural areas due to lack of economic activities[4] and rural poverty. Some interventions have been very successful in some parts of the world, with rural electrification and rural tourism providing anchors for transforming economies in some rural areas. These challenges often create rural-urban income disparities.[5] Rural spaces add new challenges for economic analysis that require an understanding of economic geography: for example understanding of size and spatial distribution of production and household units and interregional trade,[6] land use,[7] and how low population density effects government policies as to development, investment, regulation, and transportation.[8]

A commercial economy is an economic system characterized by the exchange of goods and services, often driven by trade and market forces, rather than subsistence agriculture.

REIGs Edge City Slum

An edge city is a concentration of business, shopping, and entertainment outside a traditional downtown or central business district, in what had previously been a suburban, residential or rural area. The term was popularized by the 1991 book Edge City: Life on the New Frontier by Joel Garreau, who established its current meaning while working as a reporter for The Washington Post. Garreau argues that the edge city has become the standard form of urban growth worldwide, representing a 20th-century urban form unlike that of the 19th-century central downtown. Other terms for these areas include suburban activity centers, megacenters, and suburban business districts.[1] These districts have now developed in many countries. Urban economics is broadly the economic study of urban areas; as such, it involves using the tools of economics to analyze urban issues such as crime, education, public transit, housing, and local government finance. More specifically, it is a branch of microeconomics that studies the urban spatial structure and the location of households and firms (Quigley 2008).

AMTRAK BEDROOM MONTREAL-GREAT LAKES IMAGE RIGHTS

Bedrooms

If you’d like a bit more space on your journey, try booking a bedroom for your next trip with us. Each bedroom has the capacity of two adults (with an option for a third), one to two suitcases and are 6’6” x 7’6”. Unlike roomettes, our bedrooms also have an in-room toilet, shower and a sofa that converts to a bed. Travelers looking to stretch out and upgrade from our roomette should explore our bedroom option.

Other Amenities Include:

Everything in the roomette plus…

An Armchair

An even bigger landscape window

Private sink and vanity

Toilet and shower

Spiritual Baptist

THEOLOGY: Sun Principality Divination LEFT HANDED-PATH PLANETARY INTELLIGENCE CROWN CRISTA ANCHOR VESSEL INVOCATION

SUNSET ANGELS (SUN EVENING STAR)

Human Form: Premier-Chargé d'affaires and Executive Branch Communist Working Class Athletes

Hedonic Sun Lightning Angels

Hedonic Astrology: Capricornus Constellation Conjunction Leo Minor Constellation Conjunction Taurus (Sun Sun, Uranus-Saturn Moon, Mercury Rising)

Hedonic Paradox Liberal Arts: Science and Arts (Nutritional BioChemistry and Gastronomy-Culinary Linguistics); (Bioaesthetics and Modelling)

Hedonic Birth: Prenatal Hormones Vitamins with Fetus Alcohol Consumption for Sensory Overload Asperger's

Hedonic Economic Geography (Church): Peninsula Husbandry Metallurgy Purchasing Matrix Business Cluster

Hedonic Animals: Lammas & Alpacas

Hedonic Chef: Wine Dinner Fixed Course Meal: Kebab Hors-d'oeuvres, Apple Sweet Mayo Coleslaw Palate Cleansing Salad, Steamed Mollusk or Smoked Meat Entrée, Apple; Strawberry; Banana Dessert

Hedonic Pricing Primate City: It has transformed people's lives from agriculture to businesses linked to tourism, significantly raised the standard of living, and helped reduce the economic divide between urban and rural zones (Su, 2011; Zeng & Ryan, 2012).

Value theory is the systematic study of values. Also called axiology, it examines the nature, sources, and types of values. As a branch of philosophy, it has interdisciplinary applications in fields such as economics, sociology, anthropology, and psychology.

The term originates in ethical philosophy, where axiological or value hedonism is the claim that pleasure is the sole form of intrinsic value,[3][4][5] while normative or ethical hedonism claims that pursuing pleasure and avoiding pain for oneself or others are the ultimate expressions of ethical good.[1] Applied to well-being or what is good for someone, it is the thesis that pleasure and suffering are the only components of well-being.[6]

Psychological or motivational hedonism claims that human behavior is psychologically determined by desires to increase pleasure and to decrease pain.[3][1]

Hedonic pricing is a model that identifies price factors according to the premise that price is determined both by internal characteristics of the good being sold and external factors affecting it.

SUN CHURCH PRACTICE

The Nicene Creed (/ˈnaɪsiːn/; Koinē Greek: Σύμβολον τῆς Νικαίας, romanized: Sýmvolon tis Nikéas), also called the Creed of Constantinople,[1] is the defining statement of belief of Nicene Christianity[2][3] and in those Christian denominations that adhere to it. Although Constantine lived much of his life as a pagan and later as a catechumen, he began to favour Christianity beginning in 312, finally becoming a Christian and being baptised by Eusebius of Nicomedia, an Arian bishop, although the Catholic Church and the Coptic Orthodox Church maintain that he was baptised by Pope Sylvester I. He played an influential role in the proclamation of the Edict of Milan in 313, which declared tolerance for Christianity in the Roman Empire. He convoked the First Council of Nicaea in 325 which produced the statement of Christian belief known as the Nicene Creed. In the Roman Catholic Church, to obtain the plenary indulgence once a day, it is necessary to visit a church or oratory to which the indulgence is attached and the recitation of the Sunday prayers, Creed and Hail Mary.[82] Recitation of the Apostles' Creed or the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed is required to obtain a partial indulgence.[83] Tithe; noun; one tenth of annual produce or earnings, formerly taken as a tax for the support of the Church and clergy.

The Council of Trent issued key statements and clarifications of the Church's doctrine and teachings, including scripture, the biblical canon, sacred tradition, original sin, justification, salvation, the sacraments, the Mass, and the veneration of saints[4] and also issued condemnations of what it defined to be heresies committed by proponents of Protestantism. The consequences of the council were also significant with regard to the Church's liturgy and censorship.

Language Arts (Religious Swear Words and Sicanje) Igbo Vowel Harmony and Yoruba Religious Term Ori, Ase, and Ifà with Roman Alphabet.

Geopolitical Religiopolitical Economic Geography Westminster System Liberal Arts for Mirror for Princes

Sun Peninsula Supply Side Economics Commerce Center Busıness Cluster with Plantation Economy Rural Areas and Industrial States Border as a Premier Referenced Prince.

Contract Theory with Business Clusters (Retail and Supplier)

Subsistence Construction with Architecture Arithmetic Skills

Subsistence Farming with Options/FX Hedging

Tribal Prince of Lozi Sol

PLANETARY INTELLIGENCE

SUNSET

The great chain of being is a hierarchical structure of all matter and life, thought by medieval Christianity to have been decreed by God. The chain begins with God and descends through angels, humans, animals and plants to minerals.[1][2][3]

SUNSET CROWN TUTELARY TO PRINCIPALITY; PRIMER CHARGÉ D'AFFAIRES TO PRIMATE CITY PRINCES; LION; AMBER; OPIUM- SASSAFRAS-TOBACCO; IFÁ CLUSTERS AND GOLD MINTING; G MAJOR OR SOL, A MUSICAL KEY; DEFLATED GOLD STANDARD WITH COMMODITY ECONOMIC TABLE EXCHANGE; ROMAN GLYPH

BIRTH NATAL CHART THROUGH OCCULT PLANETARY INTELLIGENCE

Men MLB

Mars-Sun (Mars sol)

Saturn-Jupiter-Uranus (Capricornus)

Mercury-Moon (Canis Minor)

Girl

Moon-Sun (Leo Minor)

Mercury-Venus-Mars-Pluto (Scorpius)

Saturn-Uranus-Jupiter (Capricornus)

SUN CROWN CRISTA ANCHOR VESSEL INVOCATION HORCRUXES

The great chain of being is a hierarchical structure of all matter and life, thought by medieval Christianity to have been decreed by God. The chain begins with God and descends through angels, humans, animals and plants to minerals.[1][2][3]

Humanity: Humans uniquely share spiritual attributes with God and the angels above them, Love and language, and physical attributes with the animals below them, like having material bodies that experienced emotions and sensations such as lust and pain, and physical needs such as hunger and thirst.[3]

The Planetary Intelligences are invoked in occultism to control the blind forces of the planetary spirit, specifically in the creation of astrological talismans.[4]

Sunset Crown: Theocracy is a form of autocracy[2] in which one or more deities are recognized as supreme ruling authorities, giving divine guidance to human intermediaries who manage the government's daily affairs.[3][4] Priest-king (ensi), assisted by a council of elders including both men and women.[51] (Asė)

Palm Fond Laurel Wreath: UZR Prospects/Eco Warrior (Mars Sol Canis Minor)

Midnight Crown (Sun, Jupiter, Pluto, Lust and Inccubus)

Nuit Blanche Crown (Sensory Processing Sensitivity-Expansive Mood Canis Minor with Sun)

SAINT

Thomas Aquinas OP (/əˈkwaɪnəs/ ⓘ ə-KWY-nəs; Italian: Tommaso d'Aquino, lit. 'Thomas of Aquino'; c. 1225 – 7 March 1274) was an Italian[6] Dominican friar and priest, an influential philosopher and theologian, and a jurist in the tradition of scholasticism. He was from the county of Aquino in the Kingdom of Sicily.

GEMINI TWIN

Nzambi a Mpungu (also Nzambi and Nzambi Mpungu) is the Supreme God, eternal Sky Father and God of the Sun (fire) in traditional Kongo spirituality.[1] His female counterpart is Nzambici, the Sky Mother and Goddess of the Moon. Among other Central African Bantu peoples, such as the Chokwe, and in the Kingdom of Ndongo, Nzambi Mpungu was also called Kalunga, the god of fire and change. This may have a connection to an element of Bakongo cosmology called Kalûnga. It was seen as the spark of fire that begot all life in the universe.[1] After Portuguese colonization, Nzambi Mpungu became synonymous with the Christian God and existed chiefly as the Creator God.[2]

Roman equivalent Jupiter • Sol

HEDONIC SUN LIGHTNING ANGELS

Hedonic Shamanism: Crista Wing Transfer in Urban Setting

Hedonic Hell: Material religion is a framework used by scholars of religion to examine the interaction between religion and material culture. It focuses on the place of objects, images, spaces, and buildings in religious communities.

Hedonic Keystone Community: HAŠK Mladost (Mladost, lit. "Youth") is an academic kinaesthetic society from Zagreb, Croatia, sponsored by the University of Zagreb. Clubs named Mladost exist in Painting Polar, Culinary, Construction, Ag/FX Simulators, athletics, field hockey, judo, basketball, bowling on ice and asphalt, fencing, volleyball, swimming, rugby, synchronised swimming, skiing, ice-hockey, ice skating, table tennis, archery, chess, tennis, water polo and rowing

Hedonic Human Form: Sun Peninsula Supply Side Economics Commerce Center Busıness Cluster with Plantation Economy Rural Areas and Industrial States Border as a Premier Referenced Angel Prince.

Hedonic Acting: Red Collar (Freeport Smuggling and Canvas Robbery) with Conflict Minerals for Screenplay and Quarterly Budgeting for Painting Polar (Tuxön Polâr)

Hedonic Husbandry: Coffee (Mıxology, Olfactory Arts, and Sephora)

Hedonic Astrology: Capricornus Constellation Conjunction Leo Constellation (Sun Sun, Mercury Moon, Uranus-Saturn Rising)

Hedonic Paradox Liberal Arts: Science and Arts (Nutritional BioChemistry and Gastronomy-Culinary Linguistics); (Bioaesthetics and Modelling)

Hedonic Birth: Prenatal Hormones Vitamins with Fetus Alcohol Consumption for Sensory Overload Asperger's

Hedonic Economic Geography (Church): Peninsula Husbandry Metallurgy Purchasing Matrix Business Cluster

Hedonic Animals: Sheep (Rambouillet, Lacaune, Texel) and Lammas & Alpacas

Hedonic Pricing Primate City: It has transformed people's lives from agriculture to businesses linked to tourism, significantly raised the standard of living, and helped reduce the economic divide between urban and rural zones (Su, 2011; Zeng & Ryan, 2012).

Value theory is the systematic study of values. Also called axiology, it examines the nature, sources, and types of values. As a branch of philosophy, it has interdisciplinary applications in fields such as economics, sociology, anthropology, and psychology.

The term originates in ethical philosophy, where axiological or value hedonism is the claim that pleasure is the sole form of intrinsic value,[3][4][5] while normative or ethical hedonism claims that pursuing pleasure and avoiding pain for oneself or others are the ultimate expressions of ethical good.[1] Applied to well-being or what is good for someone, it is the thesis that pleasure and suffering are the only components of well-being.[6]

Psychological or motivational hedonism claims that human behavior is psychologically determined by desires to increase pleasure and to decrease pain.[3][1]

Hedonic pricing is a model that identifies price factors according to the premise that price is determined both by internal characteristics of the good being sold and external factors affecting it.

IFÁ

Sunset Crown Wing Transfer Asė

Possessive invocation may be attempted singly or, as is often the case in Wicca, in pairs - with one person doing the invocation (reciting the liturgy or prayers and acting as anchor), and the other person being invoked (allowing themselves to become a vessel for the spirit or deity).

Automatic writing, also called psychography, is a claimed psychic ability allowing a person to produce written words without consciously writing. Practitioners engage in automatic writing by holding a writing instrument and allowing alleged spirits to manipulate the practitioner's hand.

SOL ANGELS: HELL EVENING STAR SUN MATERIAL WORLD SUNSET ANGELS CLAN SOLAR CROWN DEITIES (SUN PRINCIPALITY)

In a later extended sense in intertestamental Jewish literature, the abyss was the underworld, either the abode of the dead (Sheol) or eventually the realm of the rebellious spirits (fallen angels) (Hell). In the latter sense, specifically, the abyss was often seen as a prison for demons.

In this example, the adept must surrender all, including the guidance of his Holy Guardian Angel, and leap into the Abyss.

A tutelary (/ˈtjuːtəlɛri/; also tutelar) is a deity or a spirit who is a guardian, patron, or protector of a particular place, geographic feature, person, lineage, nation, culture, or occupation. The etymology of "tutelary" expresses the concept of safety and thus of guardianship. A radiant or radiate crown, also known as a solar crown, sun crown, Eastern crown, or tyrant's crown, is a crown, wreath, diadem, or other headgear symbolizing the Sun or more generally powers associated with the Sun. Apart from the Ancient Egyptian form of a disc between two horns, it is shaped with a number of narrowing bands going outwards from the wearer's head, to represent the rays of the Sun. These may be represented either as flat, on the same plane as the circlet of the crown, or rising at right angles to it.

Thomism is the philosophical and theological school which arose as a legacy of the work and thought of Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), the Dominican philosopher, theologian, and Doctor of the Church.

Augustine of Hippo, who converted from Manichaeism to Christianity, criticised the Manichaeans for polytheism and paganism, stating that Manichaeans, due to their dualistic cosmology, believe in two different deities. The Manichaean bishop Faustus of Mileve defends Manichaeism by stating that Catholics erroneously assume that the Prince of Darkness had a divine essence, while in fact, the Prince of Darkness does not share any attributes with the Divine, thus Manichaeism would not worship multiple gods, but rather one true god.[2] They are both two different principles: although eternally existing, clearly distinct. Only the light particles within humans are consubstantial to the Divine.

SAINTS

Augustine of Hippo (/ɔːˈɡʌstɪn/ aw-GUST-in, US also /ˈɔːɡəstiːn/ AW-gə-steen;[22] Latin: Aurelius Augustinus Hipponensis; 13 November 354 – 28 August 430),[23] also known as Saint Augustine, was a theologian and philosopher of Berber origin and the bishop of Hippo Regius in Numidia, Roman North Africa. His writings influenced the development of Western philosophy and Western Christianity, and he is viewed as one of the most important Church Fathers of the Latin Church in the Patristic Period. His many important works include The City of God, On Christian Doctrine, and Confessions.

Thomas Aquinas OP (/əˈkwaɪnəs/ ⓘ ə-KWY-nəs; Italian: Tommaso d'Aquino, lit. 'Thomas of Aquino'; c. 1225 – 7 March 1274) was an Italian[6] Dominican friar and priest, the foremost Scholastic thinker[7], as well one of the most influential philosophers and theologians in the Western tradition.[8] He was from the county of Aquino in the Kingdom of Sicily.

THE ARABA, CHIEF PRIEST OF IFA: "YORUBA RELIGION AT THE CROSSROADS”

Ifarinwale Ogundiran ("The Araba")

The Araba is the Chief Priest of Ifa, a traditional Yoruba religion, of the town of Modakeke, Nigeria. He has worked with scholars from American and European universities conducting research on his life and Yoruba religions. The visit incorporated dance and drum performance of various orisa rhythms, and a discussion of the Yoruba religion's inclusive cosmology and the challenges it faces in the increasingly exclusive religious landscape of contemporary Nigeria.

BABALAWOS

Babalawos are key custodians of the Ifa system, preserving and transmitting Yoruba cultural heritage through oral tradition, rituals, and ceremonies. This system provides a framework for understanding morality, human relationships, and the world at large. As spiritual leaders and diviners, Babalawos offer guidance to individuals and communities by employing the Ifa divination process, addressing various aspects of life such as health, relationships, and career choices.

The Babalawos are believed to ascertain the future of their clients through communication with Ifá. This is done through the interpretation of either the patterns of the divining chain known as Opele, or the sacred palm nuts called Ikin, on the traditionally wooden divination tray called Opon Ifá. In addition to this, some of them also perform divination services on behalf of the kings and paramount chiefs of the Yoruba people. These figures, holders of chieftaincy titles like Araba and Oluwo Ifa in their own right, are members of the recognised aristocracies of the various Yoruba traditional states.

ASĖ

Brother DNA

ORI

Intercessory Prayer with a Conscious Vessel and KABBA NICENE as Religious Identity

In the Roman Catholic Church, to obtain the plenary indulgence once a day, it is necessary to visit a church or oratory to which the indulgence is attached and the recitation of the Sunday prayers, Creed and Hail Mary.[82] Recitation of the Apostles' Creed or the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed is required to obtain a partial indulgence.[83]

The Nicene Creed (/ˈnaɪsiːn/; Koinē Greek: Σύμβολον τῆς Νικαίας, romanized: Sýmvolon tis Nikéas), also called the Creed of Constantinople,[1] is the defining statement of belief of Nicene Christianity[2][3] and in those Christian denominations that adhere to it. The original Nicene Creed was first adopted at the First Council of Nicaea in 325.

KABBALISTIC TEXT

The Zohar (Hebrew: זֹהַר‎, Zōhar, lit. "Splendor" or "Radiance"[a]) is a foundational work of Kabbalistic literature.[1] It is a group of books including commentary on the mystical aspects of the Torah (the five books of Moses) and scriptural interpretations as well as material on mysticism, mythical cosmogony, and mystical psychology. The Zohar contains discussions of the nature of God, the origin and structure of the universe, the nature of souls, redemption, the relationship of ego[citation needed] to darkness and "true self" to "the light of God".

The godhood self sought by left-hand path followers is represented by the qliphah Thaumiel in the Tree of Knowledge.[4]

In the Zohar, Lurianic Kabbalah, and Hermetic Qabalah, the qlippoth (Hebrew: קְלִיפּוֹת, romanized: qəlīppōṯ, originally Jewish Babylonian Aramaic: קְלִיפִּין, romanized: qəlīppīn, plural of קְלִפָּה qəlīppā; literally "peels", "shells", or "husks"), are the representation of evil or impure spiritual forces in Jewish mysticism, the opposites of the Sefirot.[1][2] The realm of evil is called Sitra Achra (Jewish Babylonian Aramaic: סִטְרָא אַחְרָא, romanized: sīṭrāʾ ʾaḥrāʾ, lit. 'The Other Side') in Kabbalistic texts.

Regardie and Crowley

According to Aleister Crowley, the three evil forms (before Samael), are said to be Qemetial, Belial, and Othiel.[15]

Crowley (who calls them "Orders of Qliphoth")[16] and Israel Regardie[17] list the qlippoth and their associated sephiroth on the tree of life as:

Thaumiel, associated with Kether

Ghogiel, associated with Chokmah

Satariel, associated with Binah

Agshekeloh, associated with Chesed

Golohab, associated with Geburah

Tagiriron, associated with Tiphareth

Gharab Tzerek, associated with Netzach

Samael, associated with Hod

Gamaliel, associated with Yesod

Lilith, associated with Malkuth.

The Kabbalistic angels, also known as the Angels of the Shem HaMephorash, are 72 celestial spirits whose names are derived from the 72-fold name of the Hebrew god as found in the Book of Exodus.

TUTELARY DEITY

A radiant or radiate crown, also known as a solar crown, sun crown, Eastern crown, or tyrant's crown, is a crown, wreath, diadem, or other headgear symbolizing the Sun or more generally powers associated with the Sun.

DIASPORA

Odinani, also known as Odinala, Omenala, Odinana, and Omenana[1] (Igbo: Ọdịnanị/Ọ̀dị̀nàlà), is the traditional cultural belief and practice of the Igbo people of south east Nigeria.[2] These terms, as used here in the Igbo language, are synonymous with the traditional Igbo "religious system" which was not considered separate from the social norms of ancient or traditional Igbo societies. Theocratic in nature, spirituality played a huge role in their everyday lives. Although it has largely been syncretised with Catholicism, the indigenous belief system remains in strong effect among the rural, village and diaspora populations of the Igbo. (Nigerian ASĖ; Chicago and Ethiopia)

JEWS I PROTECT

Proponents of the Kenite hypothesis explain this inconsistency as a preserved implication that the cult of Yahweh said to have been created by Moses had a known pre-history. Further indirect support for the Kenites being the true bearers of the Yahwistic faith is taken from the positive portrayal of Kenites in the rest of the Tanakh. Kenites and some groups closely associated with them appear to have been known as fervid devotees of their god Yahweh, even during times when Yahweh's own chosen people, the Israelites, had at large abandoned his worship.

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