#i better not be disappointed the rest of this year

[vamptizm]

NOT A SECRET — paige bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x wnba!fem!reader

synopsis : the bliss of winning the wnba championship causes a big slip up that exposes your relationship to the world

warnings : explicit language, alcohol, cigars and sexual innuendos (if you don’t like the new york liberty, you can replace it with your favourite team idc)

note : i haven’t checked for typos that thoroughly so… my bad

word count : 2.6k

What’s better than succeeding in life in almost every aspect? Sharing that success with someone you love and that loves you back, unconditionally and wholly. Meeting Paige Madison Bueckers had undoubtedly been one of the best things that life had blessed you with, other than your flourishing career. The two of you had met in 2019, both playing for team USA. Later on you would meet again at UConn, playing and succeeding alongside each other for the past four years. It wasn’t until barely a year ago, that the two of you decided to be brave enough to confess your love. But sadly, everything must end for a new chapter to begin, and here you were, living a two and a half hour drive from her to chase your dreams.

Luckily for you, Paige was the most dedicated and passionate girlfriend in the world, making it her mission to attend as many of your games during the playoff season as possible. Today was no different. It was her birthday, her special day, and here she was, supporting you. Hoping to celebrate you, rather than celebrating herself.

You were pacing around the open kitchen of your—extremely overprized—apartment, the nerves and anxiety eating at you like maggots, heart pounding in your throat and hands sweaty. This was by far, one of the most important games in your life so far, if not more important than the game against Iowa only six month ago.

“How about you stop walking around in circles and c’mere?” Paige spoke up from her spot on the malta-beige couch, arm slung over the back rest as her neck craned slightly to look back at you.

“I can’t, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You spoke, your voice coming out almost like a choked whine, wiping your hands down on your sweatpants for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

You only had an hour left until you had to be ready and at the Barclays Center. Two and a half hours until the final game against the Minnesota Lynx began. You were a mess, and no one could blame you.

Sighing at your distressed state, the blonde lifted herself off of the couch, walking towards you with sympathetic eyes. She hated seeing you this way. It wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last, but it never burdened her. If you needed to cling to her like a lifeline, she would be there. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Her arms opened wide once she was standing a mere foot away from you, wrapping you into a hug. So tight and warm, so comforting and safe that for a moment, it felt like all your worries vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating scent and the protective warmth of your girlfriend.

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapping around her waist as you allowed yourself to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since you had woken up. “I’m just scared. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint everyone and then I’ll be the rookie that ruined everything.” You mumble into her neck, voice slightly muffled but she understood you perfectly.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Paige’s voice was firm, yet it didn’t lack the tenderness and gentleness you so desperately needed. Her hands snaked up, pulling away from the hug just enough to be able to cup your face in them. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re on top of the league right now, if not the world. This is not going to ruin your career. It is not going to diminish everything you have achieved and you’re sure as hell not going to disappoint everyone.”

With her hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks and eyes looking deeply into yours, you couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the nerves, or maybe it was the reassurance and praise that not only her words offered, but her entire presence in that moment.

“You’re going to be great, just as you’ve always been. How many times have you felt just like this and ended up wiping the floor with everyone?”

The way she was looking down at you almost had your knees crumbling, so gentle and sincere. “You think so?” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and if it had been any other situation, you would’ve cringed at yourself.

“Baby, I know so.” Paige didn’t have to say more than that. It was enough to boost your confidence from basement level, to the roof.

You didn’t say much either, choosing to bask in the moment, hands snaking up to lay over hers that were still cupping your face, looking up at her with glassy eyes and a faint smile. In that moment, it was only appropriate for you to inch closer, placing a soft and short kiss on her pillow soft lips.

A smile crept up on the blonde as you pulled back again, “So… How about ‘pre-game good luck’ head?”

“Well… Wait, No! I’m still in distress.”

The arena buzzed with a low hum of anticipation as you stood at the edge of the court, taking in the packed stands, the flashing lights, and the sea of Liberty blue and green. Your heart was pounding—though you'd had nerves all day, they'd sharpened now that the moment was upon you . You scanned the crowd, gaze catching Paige's in her seat near the front. Paige's steadying smile softened the sharp edges of Your anxiety, and you exhaled, focus narrowing. This was it. The moment you had been working your ass of for. It was now or never.

As the whistle blew, your nerves dissolved like mist, replaced by the razor focus of competition. Everything outside the court vanished, your only objective now to take down the Lynx and bring home a win for the team. But as the first quarter unfolded, it became clear this game wouldn't go as planned. Your team struggled to find their rhythm, their usual crisp passes and quick plays seeming off. Shots were bouncing off the rim, free throws missed their mark, and the Lynx defense was ruthless. Every time you managed to drive toward the basket, you felt hands clawing at your arms, hips bumping you hard off course. You fought to keep your form steady, but even your own three-pointers—normally a guaranteed lifeline—fell just short. Beside you, Sabrina was playing through visible pain, her movements cautious, hindered by her UCL injury.

Paige's chest tightened with each missed shot and lost point, her eyes tracking your every move. She could see your frustration mounting, shoulders tensing after every failed attempt, and every bit of her wanted to rush down there, to shield you from the weight of this game. Tell you that she believed in you more than anything.

By halftime, the Liberty had fallen behind by nearly double digits. You felt your stomach knot and churn as you walked back down the tunnel toward the locker room, breath shaky, mind racing over every failed shot, every error. Before you knew it, hot tears were spilling down your cheeks, stinging with the shame of coming up short. You barely noticed the footsteps trailing you until you heard Paige's voice calling out her name, a beacon of comfort piercing her distress.

You slowed and turned, and there was your girlfriend, just outside the locker room door, her eyes brimming with concern. A teasing voice broke the tension—Stewie, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, save some of those tears for the win, rook. You're not out of this yet."

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, and then you were in Paige's arms, face buried against her shoulder. You clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent and drawing strength from your girlfriend's embrace. "I'm playing like shit right now," you mumbled, voice thick with disappointment.

She tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with steady determination. "Hey, look at me. You've been through worse than this. Most of these people today are here to watch you. You're gonna go back out there and you're gonna play your game. I know you. You're not done." Her words wrapped around you like armor, steadying your nerves. With a last kiss on the cheek, Paige whispered, "Go show them who you are, Ma."

Buoyed by the reassurance, you returned to the court for the second half with renewed fire only ten minutes later. Your team began to close the gap, each player digging deep as they fought to find their rhythm. Your shots began to connect, and your movements were sharper, cleaner, feeding off your team's newfound energy. You could feel Paige's eyes on you from the stands, grounding you with every step.

By the time the game went into overtime, your team had clawed their way to a slim four-point lead, the clock ticking down the final seconds. With a fierce determination, you seized her moment—gripping the ball just past half-court, you made the reckless decision in a split second. You set your stance and launched a deep three-pointer, watching as the ball arched high into the air. The arena fell silent, everyone holding their breath as it spun toward the basket.

And then—swish. The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and the crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates surged around you, pulling you into hugs and shouting in joy, their faces bright with triumph. You felt the overwhelming relief, the weight of victory sinking in as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

Amid the chaos, your gaze instinctively searched for Paige, who was already standing by her seat, pride radiating from her. Without thinking, you ran toward her, your heart full to bursting. When you reached Paige, your threw your arms around her, catching her in a fierce embrace. Before either of you registered what you were doing, you pressed a kiss to Paige's lips, the world melting away in that single moment. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down, anytime soon.

Paige held you close, tears shimmering in her own eyes as she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Baby. You fucking did it."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of every struggle, every doubt, lifted, replaced by the solid warmth of love, victory, and the freedom to embrace who you truly were.

But then it dawned on you. The sudden realization of what you had just done and your face dropped, heart pounding impossibly faster in your throat all while Paige continued to hold you close. "Oh my god... Oh. My. God." You could barely manage to find the words, the guilt of what you had just done so impulsively hitting you like a wave and throwing you off that thrown you had been sitting on just a mere minute ago.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Oh god, I fucked up. The whole world just saw that, what do we do?" It was clear as day that you were panicking, the fear of disappointing your girlfriend eating away at you.

Paige however, didn't seem to have lost that smile on her face, her bright eyes almost blinding with the sparkle that shimmered in them, all while gazing at you. "I don't care. We've talked about this before, I want the world to know."

"Really?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep it from cracking in that moment.

"Yes, really. I would be fucking insane if I had anything against the world knowing that I'm not only dating the most wonderful person alive, but also a champion."

Your frown quickly turned upside down into a small smile, heart searing with love and pride. Not only were you a winner tonight, but with her on your side, you'd be a winner for the rest of your life.

"Now go and celebrate, you deserve it." The blonde began to release you from her grip, a soft grin playing on her lips.

"Come with me." You suggested instantly, not wanting to be apart from her for even just a second, if you didn't have to. "I wanna show off my prettier trophy on her birthday."

Paige's grin melted into a smirk, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly clouded and you had to make sure that your own eyes weren't playing tricks on you. "Your trophy, huh? Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back home, champ."

Back in the locker room, the team was in full championship mode. As you and Paige stepped in, you were instantly drenched with a spray of ice-cold champagne, your teammates laughing and cheering as they each took turns celebrating. The room was filled with a mix of joyous shouts, laughter, and the sticky-sweet smell of champagne spilling from bottles held high. You could feel the bubbles fizzing on your skin, jersey soaked through, but none of that mattered—this was the taste of victory, and you drank it in like the best moment of your life.

Stewie grinned, grabbing a cigar and offering it to you with a proud nod. “Here you go, rook. You’ve earned it.”

You took it with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the cigar in your hand as you looked around at your ecstatic teammates. You didn’t smoke often, but right now, it felt like the perfect way to mark the moment. As you lit up, you took a slow draw and exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the air, feeling an odd thrill in the movement. Around you, your teammates roared in laughter and cheered you on, playfully tousling your hair and congratulating you as you relaxed further into the moment.

Paige stood slightly apart from the chaos, watching you with an expression of open admiration. Paige’s gaze lingered on you, catching every spark of joy in your eyes, every smile, and every bit of laughter that spilled from your lips. She let herself soak in the sight, wanting to imprint it on her memory—this perfect image of you, triumphant and glowing, a little champagne-drunk and flushed from the celebration. She didn’t care about the sticky residue of the champagne on her own skin or the faint smell of smoke in the air; all she could focus on was you, looking impossibly beautiful.

As you took another drag, exhaling the smoke with an air of confidence that was as charming as it was unfamiliar, Paige’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you held herself tonight, bold and carefree, that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

You caught Paige’s eyes and, with a giggle, took a playful step toward her, the effects of the champagne clear in your soft, relaxed gaze. “Are you okay over there?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, clearly catching on to Paige’s stare.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, her voice low as she leaned in, brushing a hand along your arm. “Oh, I’m doing great,” she murmured, her tone filled with a hint of mischief. “Just… can’t wait to get you home.”

Your eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as you smirked right back, the faint scent of champagne and cigar smoke hanging in the air between them. “I’m all yours in an hour or so,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that only Paige could hear.

“Longest hour of my life,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as they lingered on your smile.

The locker room buzzed around you, but in that moment, you both were in your own world, two people tangled in a look filled with promises for later, ready to savor every bit of this win—together.

[annebd]

prompt: scotty and max fucking dirt nasty about daniel

My first ask prompt! Thank you for turning my own horny tags against me! I don’t know if I managed to get all the way to dirt nasty, but I feel like we can at least call this “potting soil rude.” ;)

Below the cut and also here at AO3.

Max and Scotty have a tenuous agreement. A custody arrangement, Scotty calls it. When Daniel had first introduced them all those years ago, he’d clearly assumed that since he loved them both, naturally they’d like each other, too. They did not. Instead, they spent the first few months of their acquaintance doing their damnedest to avoid each other’s presence while fighting over who got to spend more time with Daniel. Neither of them wanted to share their time with him with the other, and each felt that they had a more compelling reason to lay claim to Daniel’s attention. Max declared teammate dibs, while Scotty argued for compatriot rights. The arguments escalated- furious text messages interspersed with angry glares and whispered squabbling away from Daniel’s ears until, eventually, they decided that the only viable option was to share custody.

Max gets Daniel on race weekends, from Thursday all the way through to Sunday night (and if they’re celebrating a good race result, well into the wee hours of Monday morning). Scotty has free rein over the rest of the week and any non-race weekends, except for times when Daniel and Max are both in Monaco at the same time, in which case Max gets first dibs on invites to dinners, clubs, or padel dates. Scotty had tried to argue that this rule unfairly favors Max, given that Max and Daniel both live in Monaco, which immediately gives him way more Daniel-time. Max wasted no time in pointing out that Scotty also lives in Monaco, so that’s a dumb argument, and with the amount of travel they all do, there’s very little overlap in their schedules anyway, which was the whole point in the first place.

The most important rule in their agreement, though, is that Daniel remains absolutely unaware that any of this is going on. If he knew the lengths Scotty and Max were going to in order to rearrange their schedules and his, he would make that face at them. The one where his eyes go wide and soft and red rimmed. He would shake his head at them, and he would use words like “childish” and “manipulative” and “disappointed.” No. It’s better that Daniel doesn’t know.

He’s somehow never managed to catch on that Scotty doesn’t ever hang out with him on race weekends, even if he’s at the grand prix and chilling with Chloe in the Aston Martin hospitality. He’ll give Daniel a wave, a pat on the bum if they pass each other in the paddock, but he's never asked for a pass to Daniel’s garage, even though he could easily get one as a Red Bull athlete himself. And Daniel’s also never noticed that Max pretty much disappears after race weekends, only to pop up in the background of one of Martijn’s Instagram stories or on stream with the other Twitch boys, even if Daniel mentions he'd be happy to hang out if Max finds himself in LA whenever he’s there.

Over the years, they’ve reached a tentative truce over their shared time with Daniel, but neither of them has ever gotten what they truly want: Daniel himself. He’ll flirt with them all day long,  but they know he’d just as easily flirt with a brick wall if given the chance. Flirting sometimes leads to more: Daniel will get up close behind Max on the crowded dance floor at a club, brush the tease of a half chub against Max’s ass as he scoots past him, a drink in each hand and a grin on his face. He’ll wrap one arm around Max’s waist from behind, a gesture with a flourish to present him with the G&T he’d ordered for Max, and whisper “just for you, Maxy,” as he hands him the drink and presses his cock against the seam of Max’s ass. And then he’ll flounce off again, shimmying to the pulse of the music and unaware of, or simply uncaring about, the state of Max’s shorts.

Max has seen him with Scotty, knows that he acts just the same way with him. Always standing too close, legs intertwined, sharing jokes murmured under his breath or whispered too loudly in his ear. He’ll tuck himself under Scotty’s chin, fingertips of one hand tugging teasingly at the collar of Scotty's shirt, while the other hand reaches out to take a selfie that he’ll send to Max and caption “wish you were here!”

But Daniel never lets them get any closer than that. He’ll tease, flirt, hint that he wants more, but he never takes the next step- or lets Scotty or Max take it, either. Somewhere along the line, they realized that if they can’t have Daniel himself, they’ll have to settle for the next best option.

That option is this: Scotty has Max face down, ass up on his driver room floor. There’s no space in here for this, but neither of them had cared about the logistics of anything beyond getting the door shut and tearing off enough clothing to get started. Max is still wearing his Red Bull polo- the hem rucked up to his armpits. His jeans are hanging off one foot, caught on the shoe he didn’t bother to take off before he started peeling out of his clothes. Scotty is no better off- his jeans are unzipped far enough for him to have pulled his cock out, but he’s otherwise still fully clothed.

Max watches over his shoulder as Scotty coats his fingers in lube. It’s the shitty kind in a packet that Max swiped from the complimentary amenity kit in the hotel this morning and tossed at Scotty’s head as they stumbled into his driver room and started pulling off their clothes. It’s sticky and a little goopy, but it’ll do in a pinch.

Scotty opens Max up brusquely, stretching him with two and then three fingers in quick succession. Max bristles at the burn, the way he can feel a flame lick up and down his spine, unsure of whether the sensation is pleasure or pain. He breathes through the too quick stretch and the way Scotty intentionally avoids so much as brushing past his prostate. Max knows they don’t have time for gentle. The first free practice session starts in barely more than half an hour, and Max still needs to go through his warm up routine and check in with GP about the set up plan for the run. But even with all the time in the world, Scotty still wouldn’t give him the courtesy. His focus here isn’t on Max’s pleasure.

“Come on already,” Max complains. He’s reaching back with a free hand to pull Scotty in closer, trying to grab at his cock. At least when Scotty is buried in him, Max can fuck himself back onto him, guide the angle exactly where he wants it.

“Shut up,” Scotty hisses, pushing Max’s polo further up and stuffing the hem into Max’s mouth. Max is loud. Always. But here, they don’t have the luxury of being able to hide behind the anonymity of a private hotel room, where the sound of Max’s drawn out groans or high pitched squeals can be passed off as coming from one of the other rooms down the hall; nor can they rely on the ironclad NDAs of the staff on Max’s private plane, who may have overheard him more than once begging for Scotty to stop fucking around and fuck him harder. Checo’s driver room is just next door. He’ll hear if Max starts shouting the way he wants to.

Assured that the makeshift gag will do for now, Scotty grabs a handful of Max’s left ass cheek, pulling him wide, fingers of his other hand moving unceremoniously in and out of his hole. Max can feel the cool metal of Scotty’s wedding ring against him, a twin sensation to the cold slick of the lube dripping down his rim. He wonders if Chloe knows. She’s probably lounging in the Aston Martin hospitality right now, sipping casually on a glass of wine as she chats with Fernando or jokes around with Lance. Does she know that her husband is only a few dozen yards away, wiping the excess lube off his hand and onto his cock and lining it up with Max’s hole? He wonders what she’d say if she knew. He wonders what Daniel would.

He groans as the thought hits him. Imagines Daniel’s face if he walked into Max’s driver room right now, saw him splayed out like this, moaning like a whore as Scotty takes that moment between breaths to push in, his first thrust already a zero to sixty full send that has Max sliding further to the floor. His knees slip wider and his hip flexors stretch beyond the point of a pleasant ache. Rupert is going to kill him if he shows up to his pre-race warm up with a limp. Maybe Daniel would help soothe the ache. He could slide to the floor beneath them, tuck himself under Max’s juddering hips, suck the tip of his cock into his mouth as Scotty keeps pounding into him.

Max gasps and clenches down as he imagines it. Fuck, what he wouldn’t give for Daniel to burst through the door. Through the drool soaked fabric held between his teeth, he moans out a barely coherent “Daniel!”

The room is immediately quiet as Scotty stills inside him and Max inhales sharply at his own outburst. For a long moment, neither of them moves. They breathe in the shared silence for a beat, and then Scotty pulls back to sit on his haunches and grabs Max by the back of his polo shirt to haul him back with him. The change in angle has him sliding, somehow, even further down onto Scotty’s length. Max groans. From his new position on Scotty’s lap, he can feel the bite of zipper teeth against the back of his thigh. That’s going to leave a mark- another thing he’ll have to explain away to Rupert when he hops into the ice bath tomorrow.

Scotty wraps one hand firmly around Max’s chest, brushes the sharp edge of a thumbnail over Max’s nipple, drawing out a hushed squeal. He pulls Max tight against his body, cock buried balls deep inside him. As he starts moving again, stabbing staccato thrusts aimed directly at Max’s prostate, intended to tease but not satisfy, he leans in to whisper directly into Max’s ear. “Come on, Maxy. You’re not trying to get us caught, are you? Not trying to get Daniel in here to see what you look like getting fucked like this.”

Max huffs out an annoyed moan. “Like you don’t want it, too. You would be putting on a show for him. Trying to show him how good you can fuck. Which, of course, isn’t even very good at all.” 

Max knows he’s hit a nerve. It always comes down to this for them. Sometimes they’ll spend the entire time just egging each other on. It usually doesn’t take much more than the mere mention of Daniel from either of them to get things ramped up. Like clockwork, he can feel Scotty’s rhythm start to falter behind him, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. Before he even has time to reach down for his own cock, he feels Scotty stiffen and then grind hard into him. 

Everything immediately feels wetter, the slick combo of lube and come mixing inside him as Scotty starts to pull out. Max whines, tries to clench down and keep Scotty’s dick inside him. “Don’t fucking stop, you fuck!” he whisper-shouts, trying to bounce on the flagging cock already slipping free from his hole. It’s too late. Scotty pulls out completely and shoves Max off of him to flop back to the driver room floor. He’s still fully dressed, just his bare wet cock out, lying limp on the precarious biting edge of his unzipped jeans. 

Furious and still achingly hard, Max clambers on top of him, knees spread on either side of Scotty’s hips. He grabs at Scotty’s hand and forces two fingers together before lifting up and shoving them between his legs. He refuses to look down at Scotty’s face. He knows that if he does, he’ll see that fucking smirk. He closes his eyes and throws his head back instead, so that in his mind’s eye, he can imagine that it’s Daniel beneath him, whose hand he’s riding quickly to climax. Scotty’s doing nothing to help him along, but his fingers are serviceable enough as a makeshift dildo for Max to ride, and quickly enough, he’s approaching orgasm. He comes and chokes back the cry that threatens to spill over. 

He catches his come in one hand to save it from landing directly on Scotty’s shirt. He’d deserve it, the asshole; but Max knows those aren’t risks they’re able to take. Can’t explain away the random stain or have to come up with an excuse as to why Scotty’s wearing a borrowed Red Bull t-shirt and walking away from the Red Bull end of the paddock on a weekend he’s supposed to be hanging out in the Aston Martin garage. So Max catches his come in his hand. But he can’t resist the opportunity to fuck with Scotty at least a little, so he pushes up his shirt- some obnoxious NFT branded thing- and smears his cupped hand across Scotty’s abs, painting his stomach with it before Scotty even realizes it’s happening.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Scotty complains and pushes Max off him for the second time. He grabs randomly for the first thing he can put his hands on to serve as a rag- the balaclava that Max is supposed to be wearing for free practice today- and uses it to wipe himself off. He tosses the balaclava at Max to finish cleaning up and then stands to tuck himself back into his jeans and zip up. 

Once they’re both mostly presentable, Max pokes his head out of the room, checks that there’s no one around to see Scotty exiting. Satisfied that they’re clear, he steps out of the way and jerks his chin at Scotty, a nod towards the door for him to get out.

“Yeah, I’m gone. See ya never, mate,” Scotty throws over his shoulder as he saunters out of Max’s driver room.

“Fuck you, too,” Max throws back at him. He glances at the clock. He’s almost late for his warm up with Rupert. Fuck.

***

The rest of the weekend is mostly business as usual. He has to sit through a lecture from Rupert about having to rush through his warm up (“Where’ve you been? And why are you so stiff in your hips today?” he asks as he takes Max through the exercises. “Do we need to add more stretching to your routine?”), and then another from GP about having to rush the prep for the practice session, but neither is out of the ordinary. He puts it on pole the next day and wins the race the day after. He takes a moment to celebrate with the team and then makes sure to seek Daniel out for the biggest hug, an arm looped around Daniel’s waist and a hand clasped at the back of his neck, holding him close. He’s only got a few more hours of custody time before he’ll have to hand him over to Scotty, and he intends to make the most of them.

After the champagne, the ceremony, the interviews, he follows Daniel to his driver room, chattering all the way about the race and how the car is finally feeling like they’ve got a handle on it this season. Daniel nods at the appropriate moments, points out things he’d noticed on track, too. Max beams. He loves talking about racing with anyone, but most especially with Daniel.

In Daniel’s driver room, Max makes himself as comfortable as he can on the small padded bench and watches as Daniel strips off his race suit and fireproofs and tosses them in a heap on the ground. He wanders around the tiny room in just his boxer briefs, which are molded to his thighs, still sweat-slick from the race. Max’s own briefs start feeling a little tight as he takes in all of the skin on display in front of him.

“What are we doing to celebrate tonight?” he asks. “Carlos told me about this new club that he and Charles have visited. We can go there together, if you want. Few G&Ts to end the weekend?”

Daniel nods while he throws on his regular clothes, and Max sighs as all that golden skin disappears from view. “Sounds good, mate. I’m all in!”

Max smiles back at him. Perfect. He’s riding the high of the win, and as the blood rushes from his brain to locations further south, he decides to press his luck. “And then tomorrow, do you want to fly with me in my plane? You can come with me to Greece for a bit, if you want.”

“Sorry, no can do, Maxy. Got plans for this week already. Besides,” he pauses halfway out the door, gives Max a sharp look over his shoulder, “it’s not your custody week, is it? Scotty wouldn’t approve.”

Max stares after Daniel as he skips down the stairs out of his driver room. Fuck.

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 8

Hey guys!!! Just one more chapter to go!! Next Sunday will be the epilogue and I will post it Sunday and Tuesday and it'll be all done. It's honestly a little sad for me to see this little universe go. I loved playing in its sandbox and I am grateful to have gotten three stories out it. Will I return? Maybe, but right now, it has run its course.

In this we have Eddie fucking up and making up for it and we see the start of a blossoming romance that will take awhile to come to fruition.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

~

Eddie paid a gondolier in Venice to dress up in Carnivale gear and ferry them through the city with their own costumes and masks. Murray opted to sit that one out as there was no way that anyone would recognize Eddie in the Harlequin getup he wore. Steve wore the white baggy outfit of Pulcinella while Robin and Chrissy dressed as the lovers, in fancy dresses and fitted clothes.

Eddie had wanted Steve to Colombina or even a male version Colombo. But Steve was still worried someone might recognize them. He was drawn in on himself during that river trip, with not even the antics of Robin as the male lover and Eddie as Harlequin drawing him out of his shell.

He handled the mask he was wearing better than his peers, having been used to singing and dancing with one on. When they removed theirs, laughing and talking rapidly, they were covered in sweat and smeared makeup.

Steve had sweat on his temples but was otherwise unscathed.

“You know,” Chrissy huffed, putting her hands on the flared skirt of her costume, “you could have share your tricks with us before leaving the hotel.”

Steve cracked a smile for the first time that evening. “Unless you can suddenly have three years of performing in a mask under your belt, I really don’t think my advice would help.”

Robin opened her mouth to protest, but Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and ran off with him. The girls started to give chase, but Murray stepped up to stop them.

He shook his head. “Just let them go. I think Steve is feeling a little morose having to wear a mask on his vacation away from being masked all the time.”

Chrissy and Robin shared opened-mouth glances of shock. No one had stopped to ask Steve if he was okay with the costumes and the masks.

“But he could have gone as Colombina or Colombo or whatever,” Robin protested. “That character doesn’t wear a mask.”

“But the rest of you were.”

“Oh.” Chrissy sat down hard on a nearby bench and Robin followed suit. Typically the lovers don’t wear masks but they all thought it would be a fun idea to wear Venetian masks on the gondola. Well most of them.

And then add to the fact that Steve picked someone who wore shapeless garments? Yeah, they fucked up.

Hard.

~

Steve could barely keep his feet under him as Eddie shoved him into a nook away from prying eyes.

“I fucked up,” Eddie hissed as soon as he was sure they were safe from view. “I couldn’t be here during Carnivale and wanted to experience the costumes and the masks and thrill of a river ride at night. But I didn’t ask you. I assumed you’d be fine despite everything screaming that you weren’t. You even tried to ask to do something else, but everyone else wanted to do it and my kindhearted sweetheart would never disappoint his soulmate, never mind his boyfriend so you went along with it.”

Eddie took his face in his hands. “I’m sorry Stevie. I’m so sorry. This was supposed to be romantic and I fucked up.”

Steve’s lower lip began to quiver. “I should have been more vocal about why I didn’t want to do it.”

Eddie pressed their foreheads together. “No you shouldn’t have. You don’t owe us an explanation of why you don’t want to do something. Okay?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie lifted his head and pressed their lips together. “I love you, baby.”

~

Rome was better than Venice in every way imaginable.

For starters, no masks.

For another, they happened to be there when Simon was.

Well, okay that was better for Steve, not so much Eddie. It was a feeling that was just so hard to shake. He knew that Simon was straight. He knew that Steve loved only him, but he felt his stomach drop the second he saw that stupidly buff Adonis leaning against the Key bridge, like he was waiting for Steve to share a lock with, not Eddie.

He tried to tramp down on the feelings of jealousy as Robin and Steve ran up to Simon and were hugging and laughing with him.

Chrissy put her hand on his elbow. “Down, boy.”

Eddie turned to her, bristling but when he looked at her, she was pointing to a bench not too far away from the bridge.

Eddie’s salvation. With bright red hair, green eyes, and cute freckles on her face. Vickie Cameron.

It didn’t appear that she was aware of the reunion going on literally twenty feet from where she chose to read.

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face. He licked his lips slowly and did his little loping walk/run over to Vickie.

“Well hey there, stranger,” he said brightly. “Fancy meeting you here. You here for business or pleasure?”

Vickie looked up and smiled just as brightly. “Eddie? Oh my gosh! It’s great to see you!” She leapt to her feet to give him a hug. “It’s a little of both actually.”

“How are you doing?” Eddie asked with a fond smile. Despite his current mission, he really did like his new agent.

She waved her hand back and forth. “Eh. I’ve been keeping up on things and they’ve really been quiet. The new looks have really gone a long way to keeping a low profile. Boston notwithstanding.”

Eddie winced. Boston was still a sore spot of their trip.

She picked at his lapel, running it between her finger and thumb. “I’m really digging the pink suit and shirt. It looks good on you.”

Eddie grinned back. “That’s all Stevie. Speak of whom, would you do me a favor, light of my eyes?”

Vickie snorted. “I thought that was Steve but go on.”

“Do you see that beautiful hunk of a straight man next to my heart of hearts?” he asked, pointing over at Simon.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, grimacing. “You see I have this very romantic evening planned and that bronze Adonis will absolutely derail all my best laid plans.”

“Consider it done,” Vickie said with a smile. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

Eddie loped back over to the others. “While you were admiring the statues, you missed a beautiful rose in bloom.” He moved to the side. “Look who I found!”

“Vickie!” Robin squealed and threw her arms around the other woman.

Then it was Chrissy’s turn to bristle.

“Down, girl,” Eddie teased. “I have a plan. Your little bird is safe, I promise.”

Simon lit up too. “Vickie! Imagine meeting you here.”

Chrissy’s mouth formed an O. She pursed her lips and ducked her head, slyly looking at the painfully shy guitarist. So that’s the plan then, she thought. Three couples.

Steve was torn. He liked Simon and loved hanging out with the guy, but Rome was supposed to make up for the disastrous Venice.

“I have an idea!” Chrissy said, coming to the rescue, her manager senses tingling. “Why don’t Robin and I take Vickie and Simon out to dinner so that Eddie and Steve can still have their night and then we’ll all meet up for breakfast.”

Simon readily agreed. “We’ll meet at the Fontanella degli Innamorati at, say, 9am?”

Steve looked to Robin to translate.

“The Fountain of Love.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds good. You four have fun!” He grabbed Eddie’s wrist and tore off the opposite direction.

Eddie followed behind, laughing. He really didn’t have anything to worry about. Steve would chose him every time unless it was an emergency.

~

Eddie and Steve had a wonderful candlelit dinner and moonlit walk of the city. The walked to the Key Bridge and Eddie pulled out an antique lock with their initials engraved on the back. He held it out to Steve with the key.

“Did you want to do the honors?”

Steve smiled and took them both from him. He looked up and down the bridge looking for a good spot, Eddie watching with a fond smile. Finally Steve called Eureka! and Eddie made his way over. Near the middle, toward the top, Steve snapped their lock into place.

He handed the key back to Eddie. “I placed it, I think you should throw away the key.”

Eddie grinned. “Sounds fair.” He took the key and chucked it as far as he could. It landed in the water with a soft plunk!

Then he got got down on one knee and held out a small velvet box. Steve’s hands went to cover his mouth as he fought back tears.

“I know we can’t do rings because Abbadon doesn’t wear them,” Eddie began, “but he does wear other jewelry.” He opened the box and inside was a single charm on a delicate chain. It was a guitar. He pulled out a similar chain from under his shirt. It was a pair of wings. He pulled up his shirt sleeve to show that the tattoo had been altered too.

Steve looked down at the white wings in confusion.

“After Venice,” he continued, “I realized that you aren’t your mask, Stevie. You’re the wings. The way you fly is incandescent. So I had it changed to wings so that I will always remember that if I fall you will catch me.”

Tears started flowing down Steve’s cheeks. “I love you so much.”

“Will you marry me?” Eddie asked. “We don’t have to get married right away but–”

Steve pulled him to his feet and kissed him soundly. “Of course yes!! A million times yes.”

~

The next morning they all meet for breakfast and Steve and Eddie shared the news.

Simon smiled. “About time!” he said nudging Eddie shoulder playfully. “I was starting to think I was going to have to give you the shovel talk if you didn’t ask him on this trip.”

Eddie blushed.

They walked back to the Fountain of Love and there was a beautiful older woman there in a white dress and large brimmed hat, dipping her fingers into the pool and splashing any pigeons that got too close.

She looked up at the six of them and smiled. “A coin for the fountain, dearies? To ensure true love?”

Simon and the all the ladies hastened to get out a Euro or two for the fountain. She turned to Eddie and Steve.

“Is love too good for you gentlemen?” she teased.

“No ma’am,” Steve said softly, looking up at Eddie. “I just already have it.”

Her face transformed into a brilliant smile. “Aww, young love. Well then perhaps an offering to the fountain as thanks for your good fortune?”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then Eddie dug into his pocket. He handed Steve a Euro and they both tossed in their coin.

“Thank you,” she murmured and then looked over at Simon and Vickie laughing together. “How long do you think it will take the other young man to realize the lady is his true love?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well it took Steve and me a decade and they’re way smarter than us. So half that maybe. Five years give or take?”

The woman nodded solemnly. “I fear you maybe right. But they’ll get there.”

A flock of pigeons took to the air and when they had gone, so too, had the woman.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked anxiously. “Did we talk to another spirit?”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded wide-eyed, rocking back on his heels.”Yep!”

“I hope that was some ghostie,” Eddie said with a grimace, “and not actually a god.”

“Same.”

~

Narrator voice: Just Venus, blessing our boys. Nothing to see here, move along.

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[joelsdagger]

i’ve made and deleted this post quite a few times over the last couple of days. and at first, i wasn’t going to say anything because this doesn’t even cover what i wanted to say by even a little, but ultimately, seeing a few others make similar posts encouraged me, and i really just need to get this off my chest, and if it resonates with one person, then i’m happy. this is not coherent at all, but like many, my brain is mush, so forgive me, and here we go...

as a (closeted) queer palestinian american woman, a daughter to immigrant parents, living in a fairly conservative state, i’m fucking terrified. i don’t have faith my rights are protected here. i don’t have faith that my parents and my sisters will be safe every time they step out of the house (in true typical arab fashion; i am white passing, they are not). my family has been targeted and met with violence numerous times since october of last year, and it's only going to get worse. which brings me to my next point.

i also don’t have faith that the genocide in gaza (that has now expanded to south lebanon and syria) is coming to an end, an end where palestinians can live and thrive in their native land anytime soon. and seeing people turn on us — so fast, spewing hate in saying “fuck palestine”, “fuck boycotting” and “you don’t care about my rights, so i don’t care about yours,” is incredibly saddening, disappointing, and infuriating. my grief, anger, and anxiety are at their peak and have been at their peak for well over a year now. and i don't have the brain capacity to say what i really want to say about the hatred and misplaced anger being directed towards arabs, but for now i will say this: 

now is not the time to turn on one another. now is not the time for infighting within marginalized groups. now is not the time to be selfish. to care about yourselves and not others, makes you no better than them. that is why this country is so divisive in the first place. that is how we got here. having that mentality — that ideology is dangerous and destructive. you are doing the work for white supremacists. you are perpetuating white supremacy. and it isn’t going to serve any of us because essentially our struggles as oppressed groups are deeply interconnected. we need to look out for one another. take care of one another. it will get worse before it gets better. and we’re only at the tip of the iceberg.

the fight isn’t over; we’re just getting started. and i know you’re tired; i, for one, am at my breaking point. but we cannot let them win. so let yourself feel whatever it is you need to feel right now: grief, anger, sadness, hurt, whatever it is; it's all valid, and believe me, you are not alone. take the time to feel it. and then let it fuel you and your ambitions.

i also want to reiterate that this is a safe space for all. except anyone who believes trump is a good man and voted for that racist, fascist, rapist piece of shit. y’all can fuck right off. the rest of you: disabled people, chronically ill people, queer people, aro-ace people (i’m specifically pointing you out because i know how we're treated in queer spaces, and it is not fair nor is it right), trans people, women, people of color, sexual assault survivors — if you're reading this and you're unsure of your place, please stay. i need you. i care about you. this place and this world are better with you in it. you are welcome here. you are safe here.

i’ll be here for anyone who needs it, whether it’s to chat about silly little fandom things — it’s imperative we protect this space and continue to encourage the creation of art around here. it’s imperative we stop normalizing the censorship and policing of fandom spaces (because that's another reason how we got here). fandom spaces are communities, and very often they are the only spaces where people feel safe. for most (myself included), it’s all we have left — or whether you want to vent about how much you hate the state of the world — you'll always have a listening ear and a shoulder to lean on in this tiny little nook here. seriously. my inbox and dm's are always open. 

hold each other close. protect one another. the only way we’re going to get through this is if we stand together and continue putting in the work, because it’s times like this when the real work begins.

i’m sending you all so so much love. forever and always.

noelle xx

[junkgatorswritings]

The Prisoner of Azkaban

Hello, I started reading the Harry Potter books with one goal in mind: to prove that one of the reasons it has so many plot holes is because JKR didn't plan out the marauders era.

This book is better than the last one on account of JKR actually (to some extent) figuring out what happened in the marauders era. Now maybe I'm just a tragic backstory type of gal but I really want to know exactly what happened. But I'll get onto my questions later.

Here's what we learn about Lily Evans in this book:

She was a bad egg (Aunt Marge pg. 28).

She begged Voldemort to kill her instead of Harry, and didn't take his offer to move aside (pg. 179).

James and Lily were Married (pg. 204).

Dumbledore advised the Potter's to go into hiding after a spy tipped him off (pg. 204).

There you go that's all we get. Which both makes sense and doesn't. She wasn't technically friends with the Marauders but you'd think that she'd be mentioned at the very least.

James Potter:

He was a wastrel (Aunt Marge pg.28).

At some point probably around their 5th year (because this is when they became animagus) the marauder's map was created (pg. 192). 

You never saw James without Sirius (pg. 204).

He trusted Sirius more than all his other friends (pg. 204).

Sirius was his best man (pg. 204)

Technically it says "they" named Sirius as Harry's godfather but lets be honest it was probably mostly James seeing as Sirius doesn't mention Lily at all (pg. 204).

Dumbledore advised him to go into hiding after a spy tipped him off (pg. 204).

James trusted Sirius so much he told Dumbleore that he thought Sirius would rather die than give up their location (pg. 205).

James insisted that he use Sirius as his secret keeper (pg. 205).

James told Lily to take Harry and go, that he would try and hold Voldemort off (pg. 240).

He was exceedingly arrogant, a small amount of quidditch talent made him think he was a cut above the rest, and apparently he strutted (according to Snape pg. 284).

He saved Snape from an exceedingly deadly prank that was set up by him and his friends. James got cold feet at the last moment, so saving Snape's life was just a way of saving his own future (according to Snape pg. 285).

James would have done the same thing as Harry and go see Sirius himself when he popped up on the map (pg. 339).

James must have used the invisibility cloak fairly often, Remus makes a mention of "the number of times" he saw James disappear under the cloak (pg. 347).

Was one of the cleverest students in the school (pg. 354).

He helped Peter become an animagus and he himself became an animagus in fifth year after trying since third (pg. 354)

There were several near misses for the Marauders when they were running around with Remus on full moons, nothing specific is mentioned about with who or how. They laughed it off because they were young and carried away with their own cleverness (pg. 355). 

James didn't actually know that Snape had been told about the whomping willow, but at great risk to himself he pulled Snape back before he could come face to face with Remus (pg. 357).

He was too arrogant to believe that he shouldn't trust Sirius (Snape pg. 361).

He flew as well as Harry (pg. 372).

James was nicknamed Prongs because his Animagus form was a stag (pg. 411-412).

He would have been disappointed if Harry never found any of the secret passages out of the castle (pg. 424).

Dumbledore knew James very well, and he thinks that James would have spared Peter Pettigrew as well (pg. 427).

Sirius Black:

He was rumored to be Voldemort's second in command (pg. 39).

He has a nasty temper, whether this is just a current timeline thing or not is debatable (pg. 161).

At some point probably around their 5th year (because this is when they became animagus) the marauder's map was created (pg. 192).

Madam Rosmerta was shocked to hear he'd gone dark, in fact he was the last person she thought would (pg. 203).

You never saw Sirius without James (pg. 204).

James thought he would rather die than tell anyone where they were hiding (pg. 205).

People think that Sirius got tired of playing double agent and the Potter's death was a declaration to him (pg. 206).

Sirius showed up to the Potter's house almost immediately after they were killed, he got there right after Hagrid pulled Harry out of the house (pg. 206).

He tried to get Harry from Hagrid, but failed (pg. 206).

Said he wouldn't need his motorbike anymore (pg. 207).

He was found laughing with Peter Pettigrew's severed finger in front of him in a crater caused by a magical attack thought to be caused by him (pg. 208).

Fudge believed that Sirius was unhinged for sometime after Voldemort's death (pg. 209).

Sirius was in a picture of James and Lily's wedding as the best man (pg. 212).

Sirius was one of the cleverest students in the school, it took him the better part of three years to figure out how to turn into an animagus (pg. 354).

He could transform into large enough of an animal to keep a werewolf in check (pg. 255).

Sirius thought it would be amusing to tell Snape how to get past the whomping willow (pg. 357).

He blames himself for the Potters death because he's the one who convinced them to make Peter their secret keeper (pg. 365).

The night the Potters died he went to check on Peter and found him gone, it didn't feel right so he then went straight to the Potters house (pg. 265).

There were several near misses for the Marauders when they were running around with Remus on full moons, nothing specific is mentioned about with who or how. They laughed it off because they were young and carried away with their own cleverness (pg. 355). 

He thinks that Peter is weak and talentless, he thought that they could fool Voldemort by making him the secret keeper (pg. 369).

He didn't go insane because he knew he was innocent, and that wasn't happy so the dementor's couldn't suck it out of him (pg. 371).

He thought Remus was the spy (pg. 373).

Remus Lupin:

At some point probably around their 5th year (because this is when they became animagus) the marauder's map was created (pg. 192). 

He thinks that the makers of the Marauders map would have thought it entertaining to lure Harry out of the school (pg. 298).

He was very young when he received the bite that turned him into a werewolf. His parent's tried everything to fix it, but there was no cure. (pg. 353).

Dumbledore brought him to the school, and planted the whomping willow, so there would be a safe place for him to transform. Because there wasn't anything else to destroy he tore at himself. (pg. 353).

He was happier than he'd been in his entire life at Hogwarts, he had friends for the first time (pg. 354).

He made all kinds of excuses about where he was going when he transformed because he was afraid that his friends would leave him (pg. 354).

There were several near misses for the Marauders when they were running around with Remus on full moons, nothing specific is mentioned about with who or how. They laughed it off because they were young and carried away with their own cleverness (pg. 355). 

They used to roam the castle and Hogsmeade grounds with his friends, which is apparently how they learned so much about the castle and eventually got the idea for the Marauders map (pg. 355).

Remus and Snape didn't get along (pg. 357)

He thought Sirius was the spy. It's unclear if this is because he was put in prison, or he thought so before James and Lily died (pg. 373).

Peter Pettigrew:

At some point probably around their 5th year (because this is when they became animagus) the marauder's map was created (pg. 192). 

He was a fat little boy always following after James and Sirius (pg. 207).

He was always bad at dueling according to McGonigal (pg. 208).

He received the order of Merlin First Class (pg. 208).

His mother got back the order of Merlin first class and Pettigrew's finger in a box (pg. 215).

Was helped by Sirius and James with becoming an animagus, it took him the longest (pg. 354).

There were several near misses for the Marauders when they were running around with Remus on full moons, nothing specific is mentioned about with who or how. They laughed it off because they were young and carried away with their own cleverness (pg. 355). 

He was the Potter's secret keeper, because Sirius convinced James that no one would suspect Peter (pg. 365).

He betrayed the Potters (pg. 365).

He's been hiding from the death eaters more than Sirius (pg. 368).

He always liked big friends who would look after him, it used to be the other Marauders (pg. 369).

Peter never did anything for anyone unless he could see what was in it for him (pg. 370).

He says that Voldemort forced him to spy, but almost immediately back tracks and says that Voldemort was taking over everywhere and that he would have killed him (pg. 370-371).

General Marauder's era knowledge

Harry theorizes that Lucius Malfoy was in the inner circle and knew about Sirius (pg. 215).

According to Snape the Marauder's map is full of dark magic (pg. 289).

Snape was jealous of James, apparently of his quidditch prowess (pg. 357).

Snape saw Remus being led across the grounds by Madam Pomfrey one night and became curious (pg. 357).

Snape tried to get in on Sirius' advice and was then pulled back by James; saving his life (pg. 357).

Now on the surface this is a lot of information but here are my questions that I'm pretty sure aren't answered.

Why did Sirius think Remus was the spy? Was it simply because he was a werewolf?

Why did Peter betray them? Yes in theory it's because Voldemort was growing in power but was there a specific event? Did he get captured and then flip? Did he seek Voldemort out?

If Remus did think Sirius was the spy before he was sent to azkaban, why?

Where the hell are Lily's friends? One of her friend's is the only one who lives past the second war and she's part of the order, why doesn't she ever talk to Harry?

[monismochi]

I'm ready to get cancelled but like..

Unpopular opinion maybe, but I'm disappointed that jk chose to have a feature that icky on a song under his name....

This isn't a mature direction, it's gross and demeaning honestly, and even if it's not his part of the song, he still went along with it and that's just... it's just disappointing when I thought he was morally better then that.... :/

JKs part of the song mightve been just poppy and fun, but it's still HIS song and clearly he thought that Jacks part wasn't an issue since he kept it in...

[dazais-guardian-angel]

never forget what they took from you

[juicezone]

:’]

[torgawl]

the more we discover about dion's father and anabella the more i'm happy dion impaled the shit out of that motherfucker and the more frustrated i become anabella got an easy death by killing herself. not that i expected clive or joshua to do anything because i don't think they're those types of people but it would have been satisfying to me

[artisanalpeanutbutter]

I'm so glad my friends are (mostly) not book lovers bc holy shit I hate she who became the sun so much and if I was surrounded by people who love it I would not be able to talk to them until they got over the hype. I only liked abt half of it and I would explain my feelings but I don't feel like doing that rn.

Tldr though: I didn't think it was feminist at all and going in thinking it was a feminist piece of literature made it a bad read for me. I liked how the author explored another gender class through the eunuchs though. Should've contested the other main character's misogyny & toxic masculinity (maybe that's not the right term here but idgaf this is just a tumblr post) though (can't remember their name bc i read it so long ago. The monk)

[vairiance]

I really think Pokemon should go back to 2D. Not even necessarily like HD 2D or whatever like Octopath Traveler (although that'd be cool I guess), but just what they had going in Gen 4/5, but polished up to modern tech standards.

So much charm was lost in the shift to 3D (not without benefit, of course, but still), and it brought a whole host of space issues, all in the name of making Pokemon look less appealing and having awkward movements. Like, compare these images of Hippowdon:

Leftmost is Gen 5, middle is modern, and rightmost is the (leaked) sprite from S/V.

Gen 5's is awesome! Grainy, obviously, by design, but otherwise it's super cool. You see a fierce looking hippo, posed threateningly, spewing sand to demonstrate its signature mechanic. Perfect.

Modern Hippowdon makes me sad. It's still kind of grainy (beyond what the resolution change of this image did to it), and it just looks like me on a Monday morning. You'd have no idea that this thing shoots sand, and you'd only get to see it look cool for a fraction of a second when it attacks, sometimes.

Then there's S/V Hippowdon. It's just a menu sprite icon, but look how clean it looks compared to modern Hippowdon! Imagine the Gen 5 Hippowdon pose, with the SV Hippowdon style. That'd be ideal for me I think.

3D has its benefits for sure, obviously, but I think 3D should be saved for spinoffs where a smaller scale can be enforced, and thus more care can be put into what is in the game. Comparing the 3D animations of Pokemon Colosseum/XD and what we have now proves this; in the Orre games, the Pokemon really feel alive, because they move in a way natural to what you'd expect, whereas in the modern era, everyone stands there idly and twitches once in a while to attack or get hit.

Move animations suffer as well. Let's compare the animation of Earthquake, a move that's supposed to be a terrifying massive quake of the earth. Here's how it's depicted in Gen 4:

Pretty cool, right? The magnitude of the quake is shown by literally everything shaking violently, with some dramatic flashes and rock effects. Not bad. But this could really benefit from 3D, let's take a look at how a powerful explosion of the earth is shown with the cutting edge graphics of Gen 8:

It is what would be considered a god awful green screen effect if seen in a movie.

Sure, but how much better could a 3D Earthquake animation be? Well, let's turn to the love of my life, Pokemon XD, to see how it's done:

Look, maybe you disagree with my assessment of these images, and that's fine. But I strongly encourage you to go back and play, say, Emerald, or Platinum, or what have you, if you haven't recently. You'll be able to palpably feel the difference between it and the newer games, and the visuals are just the surface of this. They're just what tends to come to mind whenever I think about it.

Idk I just miss when Pokemon games were delivered as strong single player games with multiplayer capabilities meant to last a decent while and then be put down, and returned to in a few years when you're feeling wistful, as opposed to increasingly lightweight multiplayer focused games with increasingly less single player endgame content so that they can push subscriptions of the god awful online pass

[hella1975]

feel free to ignore this if you feel like it's too personal, but i just wanted to say that reading some of the posts you've made about your relationship with your mother has really like. helped? in a weird way? bc i know everyone's experience is different but my mum has always treated me as if i'm somehow fundamentally bad in a way my siblings aren't, and it can be so so hard to cope with feeling like the one person who is meant to know you best is convinced that you're actually a terrible person. so reading your posts where you mention something sort of similar to that (not exactly the same but near enough) is really really reassuring bc i've been following you for ages and you seem like a really sweet and protective person and it's like (weirdly) 'okay, if other people have that experience too maybe it's not just me and maybe i'm not the worst, actually' lol

this is actually such a touching ask to receive! to date my relationship with my mum is the most complicated relationship ive ever had with a person and i honestly wholeheartedly believe that will never change even if i have a family. she's such a complex, tortured woman and she has such a temper and she's said such awful things to me, but we're also complete mirrors of each other. growing up my mum recurringly says she thought she was 'mad and bad' - that's a phrase of hers she uses a lot. mad and bad and here i am feeling all those things she felt and it's heartbreaking because oftentimes she's the reason i feel that way, or i feel that way and she makes me feel worse. im constantly torn between guilt and shame and anger, or love so strong i cry over it. it's taken me a long time to accept i will always feel these emotions for my mother and through it she's my favourite person in the world as well as the person who can hurt me worse than anyone, and knowing you're not alone in that, that it doesn't make you a bad child to acknowledge these things, is really reassuring so thank you x

[romanceyourdemons]

i need to be locked in a fucking abandoned 19th century seaside resort. for my own safety.

[fanaticalthings]

While I do find it funny that henchmen in Gotham probably warn each other about the Red Hood because he's a bat who will actually kill you. I think it would be better if Jason was actually seen as some sort of savior or idol to like 90% of the goons scattered around Gotham. Doesn't matter who they work for, they all know Jason, former crime-lord that took over majority of Gotham's underground in one night.

---

Jason, years after the events of UTRH, now fighting crime alongside the batfam, except every goon he runs into immediately recognizes him, stops fighting, and starts begging.

the first time it happens, Jason assumes they're begging for their lives only to hear them begging for him to return to the crime lord business so they can work for him and not Gotham's current money-stingy, abusive rogues (Black Mask lol)

---

Jason showing up to patrol as backup for Dick in an overrun warehouse full of Two-Face's henchmen and as Jason's about to interfere, one of the men stops dead in their tracks and stares really hard at Jason until:

Goon: Oh my God, boss, is that you?

Jason, pulling out his guns, about to shoot:

Goon: Mr. Hood, sir???

Jason, halfway about to pull the trigger: Wait a min–Jeremy? Oh wow, it's been ages! How's the wife?

Goon (Jeremy): Oh my God it IS you, holy shit where have you BEEN? Me and the guys miss you, man!

Dick, with a knife at his throat: What is happening right now

Jason: Ahh, well, crime-lording just wasn't fitting in on the daily schedule. Tryna turn over a new leaf and all that

Goon (Jeremy): Aw, that's disappointing. We really liked working for you, right guys?

[Chorus of enthusiastic "YEAHS" from the rest of the henchmen (even the one holding Dick at knifepoint)]

Goon (Jeremy): Well, anyways, I can't beat you up knowing you're my old boss! You gave us the best health benefits! We'll just let you take the evidence and leave.

Jason: Aw, thanks guys :)

---

And that's why 95% percent of Jason's missions in Gotham end in success. Not because he's willing to kill people or because rogues are terrified of him, but because 90% of the rogues' henchmen once worked for Jason and fuckin love him lol.

[kittyprincessofcats]

ICJ Ruling

Okay, let's get into this.

First of all, I get the frustration at the court not ordering a ceasefire. I was disappointed and frustrated at first too, since a ceasefire was the biggest and most important preliminary measure South Africa was requesting - and of course we just all want this horror to finally end for the people in Gaza. So I get the frustration and disappointment, I really do.

However, I do think this ruling is still a major win for South Africa, Palestine, and international law as a whole and here's why:

The court acknowledged that it has jurisdiction over this case and completely dismissed Israel's request to throw out the case as a whole. It will now determine at the merits stage (that will probably take years) whether Israel is actually commiting genocide.

The court acknowledged that Palestinians are a "distinct national or ethnic group and therefore deserving of protection under the genocide convention". Pull this out next time someone tells you "there's no such thing as Palestinians, they're all just Arabs".

The court acknowledged very unambiguously that "at least some" of Israel's actions being genocidal in nature is "plausible". South Africa has a case, officially. Israel is accused of genocide, in a way the ICJ deems "plausible", officially. This is huge. (And seriously, how freaking satisfying was it to hear all of those genocidal statements by Israeli politicians read out loud and used as justification for this rulling?)

The court might not have ordered a "ceasefire" in those words, but they did order Israel to "immediately end all genocidal acts" (which includes killing and injuring Palestinians) and submit proof that they actually did. How are they going to comply with this ruling without at least severly reducing or changing what they're doing in Gaza?

In fact, this wording might actually be more appropriate for a genocide (vs a war), as author and journalist Ali Abunimah notes on Twitter:

He's completely right. Israel lost today, by overwhelming majority (I mean, 15 to 2? I heard people predict the rulings would be very close, like 9 judges vs 8, but instead we got 15 to 2 (and even 16 to 1 on the humanitarian aid). Holy shit.) The court disimissed almost everything Israel's side of lawyers said, while acknowledging that South Africa's accusations are "plausible".

And this is important especially because of Mr Abunimah's second tweet there^. Because the question is, where do we go from here?

This ruling means that Israel is officially /possibly/ commiting genocide and that should have huge international consequences. The rest of the world now HAS to take these accusations seriously and stop arming and supporting Israel - and if they won't do it on their own, we, the people, have to make them. This is THE moment to rise up all around the world, especially in the countries most supportive of Israel (the US, the UK, Germany): Protest, call your representatives and demand a ceasefire and an end of arms deliveries to Israel.

We now have a legal case to back our demands: If Israel is, according to the ICJ, "plausibly" commiting genocide, then all of our governments are, according to the ICJ, "plausibly" guiltly of aiding in genocide. And we need to hold that over their heads and demand better. We need to do that right now and in huge numbers. Most politicians only care about themselves and saving their skin. We have to make them realize that they could be accused of aiding in genocide.

(As a German, I'm thinking of Germany here in particular: After South Africa's hearing, our government dismissed their case as having "no basis" - how are they going to keep saying that now that the ICJ officially thinks otherwise? Over the last months, people here have been arrested at protests for calling what's happening in Gaza a genocide. How are the police supposed to legally keep doing that now that the ICJ has officially deemed this accusation "plausible"? I used to be scared to use the word "genocide" at protests or write it on my protest signs - not anymore, have fun trying to arrest me for that when the ICJ literally has my back on this one 🖕🏻.)

So yeah - don't be defeatist about this, don't let Israel's narrative that they "won" (they didn't) take over. This might not be everything we wanted, but it's still a good result. Don't let what the court didn't say ("ceasefire"), distract you from the very important things that they did say. Let this be your motivation to get loud and active, especially if you live in any country that supports Israel. Put pressure on your governments to not be complicit in genocide, you now officially have the highest international court on your side.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: short fics (blurbs?) characters: leona, floyd, jade, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

It's eight in the morning after another disappointing attempt at rest, and now you can't even sleep in. Damn visitors.

You throw open the front door.

"What? What could you possibly- wh- Leona?"

The housewarden smirks. He looks a little too proud of himself for this early in the morning...

"A little wolfie told me you weren't sleeping well. Lucky for you, that's my specialty. Now, are you gonna let me in, or what?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and making himself comfortable on the couch in the foyer.

He pats the spot next to him.

"Listen..." you say. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm fine."

"Don't be proud. I don't pity you, I just... owe you. Now get your butt over here, yeah?"

Leona isn't so scary when he's asleep. He's more like... the world's largest pillow. Of course, you're at risk of being smothered until you crawl into a better position, but once you're on top, he's surprisingly warm and comfortable.

You can tell you're being watched before you hear anything.

And you think you might just know wh-

"Shrimpyyy!"

For two boys so tall, the tweels are awfully quiet. Especially when it comes to "surprising" you in random places. This time: the hall.

Floyd pulls you into a bone-crushing hug while Jade watches from behind, smiling subtly.

When he finally lets you down, you're dizzy. (Though, at this point, you'll take whatever physical touch you can get).

"Shrimpyyy, why didn't you tell us you were lonely? We had to squeeze it outta Spade," Floyd pouts.

"His face makes fascinating expressions when he's afraid," Jade says, merrily.

Before you can answer, Floyd's already got you under his arm (seriously? Where do they find the strength?) and is heading straight towards the hall of mirrors.

You already know there's no getting out of this one...

Floyd is, unsurprisingly, all over, from leaning his whole body weight against you to lying across your lap, to biting your shoulder (in his sleep...?) Oh, and he drools, too.

Jade sits on your other side, one hand holding yours, the other leafing through an almanac from twenty years ago.

You're almost hesitant to admit just how nice it really is.

"And nothing else has worked?" Vil says, throwing open the door to your bedroom with no regard for a "hello" or, "how are you?"

You blink. "...Hello to you, too. May I ask what you're talking about?"

He storms inside, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

"Just that I overheard Epel Felmier asking my vice housewarden if he would be willing to satisfy your need for physical affection. You've been struggling? With sleep? And you didn't think to come to me, first?"

He almost sounds... offended that you didn't.

"...Well... I wasn't making a big deal about it,"

"So, no teas, no vitamins, no pills- nothing has helped?"

You shake your head. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is purely psychological... very well. Get up. I hope you don't toss and turn much, I'm a light sleeper,"

Vil is completely still when he sleeps. No tossing, no turning, no drooling, no snoring. He also insists on sleeping on his back, you, clinging to his side, and a single arm around you. Just as elegant as when he's awake. He'd be a true sleeping beauty if not for the mumbles of nonsense that come from him every few minutes. You swear you can make out your own name, once or twice or three times...

He is warm nonetheless, and his mumbles and idle stroking of his fingers on your waist is enough to satisfy you for a night of good sleep.