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[rablackauthor]

Press coverage, then and now...

[iwatcheditbegin]

I feel like with the past announcements the clues were just very loud. There was so many signs. I’m not ruling it out but I’m also not entirely convinced rep tv is happened rn.

[baronessvonglitter]

Holiday Heat

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: Sharing a hotel room with a grumpy (and handsome) stranger while a storm makes travel inaccessible. What could possibly go wrong?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Only one bed/forced proximity trope (with a dash of sunshine x grumpy because we love a cantankerous Joel). Age gap (reader is in her 20s, Joel's in his 50s). Strangers to lovers. Oral (f receiving). Sleeping together to stay warm. Unprotected p in v. Fingering. Reader has very little description apart from having hair long enough to get in her eyes. No use of y/n. Please lmk if I've forgotten anything!

Author's note: It was my pleasure to step in to gift this fic to @frannyzooey for the @pedrostories Secret Santa exchange! I hope you had a great holiday and have a wonderful new year, hon! ❤️Also, huge shoutout to @pedrorascal who so generously created the ✨gorgeous✨ banner for this story!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Wind and snow roar outside as the taxi pulls up to the last motel for the next hundred miles. The driver doesn't dare to drive any further in the snowstorm, and offers to bring you to a place where you and your fellow passenger, a gruff, unsmiling man named Joel, to stay warm and have a roof over your head.

"This place is a shithole," he grumbles as you're pulled to a stop.

"It's quaint," you say, refusing to let his sour attitude ruin what's left of your holidays.

You're both heading home for the holidays: you're returning from your senior year at college and he reluctantly admitted he's returning home as well from an extended trip north to visit his brother.

Despite the fact that you're both Austin citizens just trying to get back to your loved ones, Joel remains a total grinch. You've had to endure this man the entire drive from DFW airport. He sat in the aisle across from you on the flight down from Nashville, sighing and making exasperated grunts every time a baby cried or a young person took a selfie. His legs jittered with impatience. You took pity on him and offered him a CBD gummy, hoping to ease whatever stress he was under but he brushed you off with an annoyed groan.

When you found out there were no connecting flights to Austin, you and Joel were the last in line for a car rental. And of course, the last one was rented out to a couple in line ahead of you.

You saw this as an opportunity to help your fellow man, especially as it was the holidays. But all Joel did was shrug when you offered to split a taxi to whichever hotel was closest.

"It's not the Hilton, but it'll do for tonight," you tell him, persisting in your sunny outlook, hoping it will catch on.

The bored-looking eighty-year-old man in the motel office tells you that due to high demand and the inclement weather, there's only one room left, with a single bed.

"We'll take it," you bounce on the chance, much to Joel's chagrin, offering your credit card. Your surly traveling companion offers to split the room, but not without complaint.

"No way in hell am I sleeping on the floor," he says as soon as he steps into the room. There's a stale stench of cigarettes that the cinnamon air freshener on the small round table can't mask.

"Of course you're not. We'll just.. divide the bed. I'm good at staying on my side."

"You'd better be. I don't need you grabbin' onto me in the middle of the night 'cause you're havin' a nightmare or somethin'."

"You wish." It's the only thing you tell him that has some sting behind it.

"Just don't steal all the blankets, sweetheart. Gonna need 'em with this deep freeze comin' through."

"I'm gonna shower first if that's all right with you. I need to warm up." You grab your pajamas from your bag.

"Don't use up all the hot water," he calls out before you close the bathroom door.

"If there's no hot water to spare we could shower together." You glance behind your shoulder, eager to see his reaction.

The look on Joel's face is priceless as he nearly chokes on his next breath. "What? Are you out of your mind? There's no way I'm showerin' with you!"

You grin. "Gotcha."

You step out, hair still damp, towel wrapped around you, shyly going back into the room. "I forgot my panties," you say softly, going to your bag.

Joel tries not to stare too much, but it's a challenge.

"Turn around," you tell him so you can have privacy.

"Go change in the bathroom."

"I had a hot shower, it's still humid. I can't get dressed in there. Just close your eyes."

He grunts but accedes to your request, leaning back against the headboard as he puts his hands over his eyes. His heart is pumping madly, listening to the rustle of clothes as you get changed. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts instead of wondering what the shape of your body looks like.

Relief is a brief respite before he sees what you're wearing to sleep. He thought you'd wear something comfortable and decent, like those fuzzy plaid pajamas girls your age like to wear during the holidays, but instead you're in an oversized t-shirt, the hem down to the middle of your thighs, revealing your bare legs. He puts a pillow on his lap to hide his growing erection.

You get onto your side of the bed. "The shower's free if you want it."

Joel swallows hard before he forces himself to think about something other than you in the bed with him. "Yeah, uh, thanks," he says gruffly, his voice strained. He quickly gets up, trying to hide his aroused state, and gathers his pajamas before he goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. For good measure he locks it.

"Get it together, Miller," he tells himself, splashing some cold water on his face. He can't deny the effect you have on him, but he also knows it's impossible to act on it. He barely knows you. You could have a boyfriend or a husband for all he knows, though there's no ring on your finger.

He showers, hoping to stay in as long as he can to avoid you. But it's a shitty motel after all, and soon he runs out of hot water and has to rinse the shampoo from his hair under the icy cold spray.

Dried off and clothed he steps back into the room and finds you on the bed, rubbing lotion onto your arms and legs. The sight nearly takes his breath away. He tries to look away but his eyes are drawn to your glistening skin.

"Good shower?" you ask, catching a whiff of his body wash, something fresh and woodsy. From lowered lashes you check out how he looks in his sweatpants.

"Yeah," he replies. "Outta hot water though. Since you used it all up."

You roll your eyes and go back to applying your lotion.

"Smells nice," he says, sitting close to you.

"Thanks. It's coconut."

The sweet scent hangs in the air as he watches you spread the white lotion across your skin, giving rise to lewd thoughts about what other thick white substances would go well on you. The coconut aroma, the sight of you touching yourself, the forced proximity and having to share a bed.. it's all sensory overload.

"I like coconut," his voice is thick with restraint.

Your hands stop and you hand him the bottle, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "Will you help me?"

He takes the lotion from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours a moment. "Where do you want me to start?"

"My legs," you tell him, spreading them slightly as you lean back.

Heat pools in Joel's groin and he bites his lip to stifle a groan. He squeezes out some lotion onto his palm and kneads it into your shin and calf, his touch gentle but firm, lightly massaging. He spreads it up to your knee, brushing against the tickly spot right beneath and smirking when you try to stifle a sound.

"Feels nice," you eke out.

"Your skin is so smooth," he murmurs, eyes drinking in the sight of you looking both relaxed and wanting. His hands move over your thighs as they part and he realizes you're not wearing panties after all. His brain goes haywire for a moment, unsure if he should call attention to your undressed state or not.

The scent of your arousal reaches him, and he dares a glance between your thighs. His dick pulses when he sees the telltale sheen at the apex of your inner thighs. His eyes meet yours and there's a charge, a current that passes between you.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he rasps, his voice thick with desire.

It's too much, too fast, but the part of you that doesn't care wins out, falling for his low, silky remark.

"Joel.. put your mouth on me," you whisper, legs parting further, an open invitation.

His eyes darken to nearly black, all semblance of restraint breaks as he leans forward, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath warm on your inner thighs. "As you wish, sugar," he rumbles, placing a soft kiss on your soft flesh. His kisses move higher and higher up, and he gently moves your legs over his shoulders as his kisses get more persistent.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as his hands find their way under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your belly and the mounds of your breasts, your nipples hard in anticipation. Willfully trapped beneath him, you're at his mercy when he finally buries his face in your cunt, gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

His tongue runs over your soft, saturated folds, tasting you and listening to the sounds of your moans and gasps. He laps at your softly, then adding more pressure, dipping his tongue inside and swiping at your clit, teasing you just enough to get you screaming for more. A strange sense of tenderness surfaces among the lust of the moment as he brings you to life. There's no denying there's something inherently sweet and affectionate about the lascivious act.

Joel can't get enough of your taste, your smell, the way you feel against his mouth as you desperately grind against him. He's lost in the moment, his every sense consumed by you. Hearing you panting his name he hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, and he gladly licks up the nectar you gush out.

"Oh! Joel! Keep doing that!" you gasp, tugging at his greying locks. His mouth is hot against your pussy, tongue stiff and pointed, soft and wet. The pleasure seems neverending. Just when you think you know the pattern, he switches it up, licking harder or softer, tracing shapes with the tip of his tongue. "Please.. don't stop.. I'm gonna.."

Pleasure blossoms from within, too big to keep in, and you come apart beneath him.

There's a feeling of ownership, something dominant and masculine and protective in Joel as he works you through another one, his hips rutting against the bed in need of his own release. At last he moves over you, bodies pressed close as he kisses you for the first time. It's sweet and soft, the taste of you still on his tongue, tangy and sweet.

"Thank you," you sigh, your foreheads touching, breath mingling.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart," he says quietly, brushing loose strands of hair from your forehead.

You're still feeling the lingering traces of pleasure, but even you can feel the cold seeping into the room. "Get under the covers with me," you tell him, and giggle at the speed with which he pulled both of you under the western-themed duvet.

Clothes fly off, thrown over the sides of the bed, landing in haphazard piles. Joel slots himself between your legs again. Desire grows bright in him, making him feel like he's burning from the inside out, starving for the taste and feel of you.

Your body is a perfect fit for him, the glorious slide of his flesh into yours causing you both to cry out. He's completely sheathed within you, surrounded by your perfect, tight, wet heat. Thrusting slow at first, he watches your expressions, planting little kisses on your cheeks and eyelids, drinking up your moans as his tongue slips between your lips.

"More," you whisper as his lips graze your neck, gently biting your ear lobe, and you're rewarded with a more forceful pace as he spreads you open, angling your hips up to get in deeper, finding that sacred spot within that makes you see God. He plants one hand on the headboard above you for leverage as his other hand kneads your breast, tweaking your nipple as your own hands grip his sides, digging your nails in as you blissfully curse with each push of his hips.

"That's the spot, ain't it?" he grunts above you. "Right.. here."

Stars collide behind your eyes as he gently glides over your G-spot. His lips curve into a smile when you clench around him, but he slips out before he can come, replacing himself with three fingers. "Come on them, sweetheart. Come on my fingers then you can have my cock again."

You're lost in bliss as he glides his fingers in, curving to get that spongy spot, eager to make you scream. You bring your own fingers to your clit, gently pinching and rubbing until you feel your climax begin in your extremities, gathering pressure within until it's released, your orgasm shattering you with Joel's name on your lips.

He gives you a moment to come back before he lays down, letting you straddle him. Though he was just inside you, it's still a stretch to fit around him, and you slide down slowly before you're comfortable enough to start riding.

"There you go, darlin'," he murmurs, large hands on your hips. "Do what you need to do to come on my cock, baby."

In a delicious haze of pleasure you ride him, switching up the pace, going slow and deep before slamming down on him, making him groan as he tries to hold back. Your slick is pooling on his groin, coating his balls. Holding your hips steady he rams up into you, eager for you to come all over him again.

You're positively feral at this point, shaking and crying out as you come harder than any other time before, and Joel follows soon after, spilling inside of you, his dick twitching.

Hours later you're curled up together under the thick blankets, sharing and savoring what warmth you've generated.

"Thank god for this storm," Joel murmurs, holding your back close to his chest as he spoons you.

"That's the first positive outlook you've had all day," you smirk, snuggling against him.

dividers by @cafekitsune 👑

[elierlick]

Tennessean Charlotte McLeod, 28, was the 2nd US trans woman to obtain gender-affirming surgery in Denmark after Christine Jorgensen. I love this 1954 photo with her father. You clearly see the love and support in his eyes. He adored his daughter and celebrated her for who she was.

At first, Charlotte McLeod's father didn't support her medical transition. However, after her surgery, he explained, "now that it’s over, I’m ready to accept Charlotte as my daughter[...] It's a little hard to get used to after all these years, but I will, you can bet on that."

Unlike present newspapers, nearly all reporting on Charlotte was positive and celebratory. A 1954 issue of the Nashville Banner noted her beauty and that all her friends, neighbors, etc accepted her. How cool would it be if they still did this (with some improved language) today?

[roosterforme]

Draft Day | Rooster x Reader

Summary: If Bradley knew anything about his son, he knew Everett wouldn't be happy with a normal job. Not after wishing and hoping to play major league baseball for most of his life. But when Draft Day turns out even better than expected, Bradley becomes a viral sensation.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

"I hate flying commercial," Bradley grunted as the enormous Boeing 747 touched down on the rainy runway in Pittsburgh. "These pilots couldn't land smoothly for a million dollars."

You kissed him where he was crammed into the economy window seat, his broad shoulders hunched slightly in discomfort. "I told you before we took off to go up to the cockpit and show them how it's done."

Bradley snorted. "And I told you that even though I wanted to, we'd get kicked off the flight. And tomorrow's too important to miss by being grounded in San Diego."

Bradley reached for your hand when it was time to deboard, and he ended up practically dragging you through the airport to the baggage claim area. "Can we slow down?" you asked with a laugh.

"No. Come on, Kitten. Ev's flight from Nashville landed forty minutes ago." 

"Okay, okay," you muttered as the two of you ran toward an escalator. The entire airport was swarming with media groups and college aged players hoping to get drafted by an MLB team tomorrow. And your son was one of those hopefuls.

You had barely taken a step off of the escalator when Bradley said, "I see him." And you kind of loved the way he released your hand to rush toward Everett. Your son looked tall and strong in his Vanderbilt tee shirt and backwards Phillies cap, and a second later, he was hugging your husband.

"Hey, Dad," he said with a laugh as Bradley kissed his forehead and folded him up in his arms. "Hi, Mom." And then you were pulled into the hug, too. 

"Did you get your bags yet?" Bradley asked. 

"The last one's coming around now," Everett replied, and he bent to pick up the long, thin luggage that must have been filled with his baseball gear. "I'm starving. Where are we eating dinner?"

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

After Everett had two enormous roast beef sandwiches filled with french fries and coleslaw, Bradley said, "I was about to ask if you were still getting enough calories every day, but I guess it's safe to assume that yes, you are."

"I'm just always hungry," Everett replied from across the booth, patting his flat belly. "I think the fact that my baseball scholarship covered the cost of food on campus saved you guys from bankruptcy." 

You pushed some of your uneaten fries to the side, and Everett started picking at them. "We would have had to sell the house," you said, shaking your head as your son polished off the rest of your meal, too. 

"So what's on the agenda tomorrow? What time do we have to be at the field?" Bradley asked. "Some of the kids at the airport looked really young. Are you nervous?"

Everett just shrugged. "Nah, what's the worst that can happen? I don't get drafted? I mean, I'm still not twenty two quite yet. I skipped the draft last year so I could finish college, and I have a degree now, so I could always get a normal job. Or join the navy. I already have a call sign."

But Bradley knew his son didn't want a normal job. When he'd gotten an invitation to the draft, he called Bradley immediately and told him how excited he was. "You can't wear that cap tomorrow," Bradley said with a grin. 

Everett spun it around so the battered Phillies P was facing the front. "You're right," he groaned. "I'll have to retire my favorite hat! But at least that would mean I'm pitching for another MLB team, you know?"

"Yeah," Bradley said with a nod as he pulled out his credit card. "It'll be worth it."

Once the three of them were settled into the two bedroom hotel suite, Everett headed right for his room. "You know he just wants to text his girlfriend all night," you said. 

"She's not my girlfriend," he replied with an eye roll. "Goodnight." And then he closed the door with his phone already in his hand. 

"She's totally his girlfriend," Bradley whispered, heading for the other bedroom with you right behind him. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it next to his suitcase before dropping onto the bed. 

"She totally is." You climbed into bed with him as he turned on the TV to ESPN. They were already showing live coverage of the MLB draft preparations. Reporters were interviewing coaches, and they were starting to remove some of the tarps and set up the stage at PNC Park as the rain had finally tapered off. You were just starting to get comfortable curled up on Bradley's chest when he jolted so hard you yelped. 

"Baby! They're talking about Ev."

You listened to the analyst on TV as he said, "And Bradshaw out of Vanderbilt, well he skipped the draft last year to finish his degree. That's almost unheard of! But his senior year stats were his best yet, so maybe he knew what he was doing. There are a lot of National League teams looking for a young ace pitcher who can also show up at bat, and he looks like he's just going to keep getting better. He should go late in the first round or early in the second."

Bradley's eyes were wide as he laughed and rolled you onto your back. "There are literally ESPN analysts talking about our son, Kitten." Then he kissed you softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands were inside your shirt and you were giggling. 

"Hey, you seem excited, Coach." Bradley groaned as his hand drifted down to the fly of your jeans. "Okay," you agreed, "but we have to be quiet." And then your jeans were off and your husband showed you exactly how excited he was.

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

"Oh my God," Bradley mumbled over and over again as the three of you headed up toward the enormous stage that had been erected on the outfield at the ballpark. The weather had mostly cleared, and the city skyline looked gorgeous lit by the late morning sun peeking through the clouds. 

"Third row, Dad," Everett said, guiding them toward their assigned seats. Bradley and Everett were both wearing navy blue suits, but while Everett had chosen a neutral looking yellow and white tie, Bradley's was red. If they were going to have to start wearing a new team's jerseys and colors, he wanted to at least have one last hurrah. 

Bradley let you go into the row first, and then he took the next seat so Everett could sit by the aisle. And when everything started up, the ballpark got loud. The regular seats were filled with spectators, and it was so surreal that Bradley was sitting down here with the draftee hopefuls and his own family. 

You pulled out your phone and said, "Aunt Molly wants a selfie." Bradley grinned as you and Everett both leaned in closer to him and smiled. You snapped the photo and said, "I'm sure she's going to want a ridiculous selfie, too." So the three of you made obnoxious faces, and then you sent them to your sister with a giggle before letting your cheek rest on Bradley's shoulder. 

It was starting to get hot in the sun now as the league commissioner made her way up onto the stage and announced that the draft was officially beginning. "Holy shit," Bradley whispered, reaching for your hand. He was so excited, practically shaking. And he cheered politely as the crowd screamed when shortstop Javier Marianas was chosen first by the Milwaukee Brewers. 

"He's really good," Everett remarked, completely calm while Bradley was sweating bullets. "He went to USC and I pitched against him once. He nailed my slider."

Bradley could only grunt in response as the Toronto Blue Jays were up next. He had no idea how everyone around him was so calm when he thought he might throw up. He looked up to see the teams listed in order on the jumbotron. The Phillies had the sixth pick, which surely would never happen, but the Padres were drafting twenty third. Having Everett close to home in San Diego for most of the year would be amazing. Bradley was already crossing his fingers. 

The Texas Rangers, Washington Nationals and Chicago White Sox all chose power hitters. Bradley tried to sit still while Everett told him that the player chosen by the Rangers was his roommate a decade ago at the Little League World Series. But Bradley was too distracted to listen to much of anything as members of the Phillies organization walked up onto the stage, and the clock started ticking down until their draft selection needed to be turned in.

And then Bradley could tell that while his son seemed calm on the outside, he was a little anxious after all. He saw the prominent bob of Everett's Adam's apple as he swallowed and whispered, "Would have been cool, huh Dad?"

Bradley gently let go of your hand and turned a little bit to wrap his arm around Everett's shoulders and pull him close. His son smiled at the awkward hug, and Bradley told him, "Kiddo, any team would be lucky to have you." He wanted to give him some more reassuring words, but there was nothing else to say. If Everett was selected, the team that chose him would be gaining an amazing pitcher, sure, but also a solid teammate and someone who cared about more than just himself. 

So Bradley kept his arm around his son as the league commissioner returned to the microphone. There were Phillies staff members ready and waiting with a jersey and baseball cap, and they all looked excited for their new player to be announced. The commissioner cleared her throat and said, "With the sixth overall pick in this year's draft, the Philadelphia Phillies choose pitcher Everett Bradshaw."

"Holy shit," Everett whispered as he stared up at the stage with his mouth hanging open. 

Bradley jolted forward in his seat as you scrambled to get your phone out again. "Holy shit," Everett and Bradley said in unison as the crowd started to cheer when Everett's stats started scrolling along the jumbotron screen.

"Ev!" you shrieked, and Bradley jumped to his feet. 

"Kiddo! The Phillies!" he said, and slowly Everett rose to his feet too. "The Phillies!" 

And then his son was in his arms, slapping him on the back as he said, "Dad. Oh my God! The Phillies!"

Bradley kissed his cheek and squeezed him. "The Phillies! Go up and get that fucking jersey!" And then Everett leaned in to give you a quick hug before he very gracefully walked down the aisle toward the stage. 

But Bradley was absolutely losing his mind now as the cheering around them grew louder. "Yeah! The Phillies! Kitten, the fucking Phillies!" He raked his hands through his hair. "Our son is going to Philadelphia!"

"He got drafted!" you screamed over the crowd, and Bradley vaguely registered that you were holding your phone up as you jumped around. 

"He got fucking drafted! By the best team in baseball!" Bradley shouted, pumping his fist in the air. And then there was a champagne bottle in his hands, and he started chugging it before screaming, "Yes!" He was jumping with you now, spraying champagne all over the place as he watched Everett take some photos on the stage in his brand new Phillies cap with the jersey held up in front of him. "That's my son! That's my son! I love you, Everett! He's a Phillie! Hell yeah!"

Bradley lunged for you and your shriek of ecstatic laughter had him scooping you into his arms. "Coach! He did it!"

He smothered you in kisses as you took the bottle from his hand and drank some of it. "That's our son! I'm so proud of him!" 

"You did this, Coach! You're the one who made this happen!"

Then he shared so many champagne flavored kisses with you as Everett was escorted off the stage to riotous cheering.

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

A couple hours later, the three of you were back in the hotel room, all sticky from champagne with enormous smiles on your face. You watched as Everett kept hugging Bradley, and now both of them were wearing brand new Phillies caps turned backwards. "Thanks, Dad."

"You need to stop thanking me," Bradley replied softly. "It was all you. I'm so damn proud, Kiddo." But he did look pleased with himself. "Hey, my phone keeps blowing up. Everyone is so excited. I've got about a hundred texts from Maverick, Bob and Molly." But then Bradley froze and squinted down at his phone screen. "Charlie and Flora sent me links to a video they said went viral?"

"What is it?" you asked, but as soon as you looked at the screen, your eyes went wide. "Oh my God."

You watched as the video you had taken of Bradley screaming with the champagne bottle played on his phone. 

"The Phillies! Kitten, the &%@#ing Phillies! Our son is going to Philadelphia!"

Everett erupted into laughter as Bradley just stared at the screen. "I feel like maybe I should be embarrassed?" he mumbled as he continued to watch himself spraying champagne everywhere.

"He got &%@#ing drafted! By the best team in baseball! That's my son! That's my son! I love you, Everett! He's a Phillie! Hell yeah!"

"How did Yahoo Sports get this?" Bradley asked as the video started to play again on loop. His cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

You were gasping as you tried to stop laughing. "I don't know! I only sent it to Molly!" 

"Molly," Bradley growled, cradling his forehead in his hands as he blushed deeper.

"Dad, it's got half a million views already! This is the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life! I'm sending it to everyone I know!"

And when you turned on the TV in the hotel room, the video was playing there. And when you went back to that sandwich place for dinner, Bradley pulled his cap down lower over his face, because it was playing there, too. And you and Everett couldn't stop laughing no matter how hard you tried.

"It's okay, Coach. If you weren't the biggest Phillies fan in the world before, you certainly are now," you told him. He squeezed into the booth first and then pulled you in to shield him as the people sitting at the bar were laughing at his viral video. 

"Nah, I'm just the biggest Everett Bradshaw fan in the world. But listen, we need to come up with a game plan," Bradley said, pulling up the notes section on his phone. "The Phils want you there by next month, Ev. So we all need to fly out and find you an apartment. We can pay the first month and the security deposit until you actually have your signing bonus available. And we also need to go over that contract with a lawyer when we get back home to San Diego. Kitten, can you call that lawyer in your book club?"

But you just kissed him on the cheek as Everett leaned over the table with a smile. "We'll figure it out, Dad. But actually... I was thinking after we eat dinner, you and I could go to that park down the block from the hotel? I brought all my gear with me. Maybe I could pitch to you until it gets dark?"

Bradley immediately dropped his phone onto the table and squeezed his son's hand while tears stung his eyes. "Yeah, Ev. I would love that. The perfect ending to the perfect day." 

And then he watched his son eat two more huge sandwiches and half of your fries as he gushed about how excited he was to play major league baseball for his favorite team and Bradley's.

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

I love thinking about how Everett becomes known as the player with the "really excited dad". Thanks for reading! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

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[yeoldenews]

"Baby is shake me so I can hardly write. so I will have to close"

(source: The Nashville Banner, December 15, 1904.)

[ef-1]

bitches out there mad as hell at Daniel for existing and Red Bull decided "yeah no so send him out to Nashville, make sure he's decked out in Red Bull gear head to toe NOT Alpha Tauri, need the entirety of the event area cleared out, at least 6 floor to ceiling banners of Daniel, 3 year old instagram photos, a fake album roll out that runs veryyyyy adjacent to his newest personal merch line, a country band and some ambient lighting for sex appeal" I'm afraid they're simply trying to kill you all ://

[justinspoliticalcorner]

DOJ Indicts Russian Nationals in $10 Million Scheme to Spread Covert Propaganda to U.S. Audiences

Brett Meiselas at MeidasTouch:

The Department of Justice has unsealed an indictment charging two Russian nationals, Kostiantyn Kalashnikov and Elena Afanasyeva, with conspiring to violate the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA) and money laundering in a scheme to covertly influence U.S. audiences. Both Kalashnikov and Afanasyeva remain at large, according to the DOJ’s announcement today. The indictment reveals that Kalashnikov, 31, and Afanasyeva, 27, who were employees of Russia's state-controlled media outlet RT, played pivotal roles in funneling nearly $10 million to a Tennessee-based online content creation company, referred to in court documents as U.S. Company-1. The content company, unbeknownst to its viewers, was funded and directed by RT to produce pro-Russian videos aimed at American social media users. This company is believed to be TENET Media, who touts right-wing hosts Lauren Southern, Tim Pool, Benny Johnson, and others, as part of their roster.

[...] Since its launch in November 2023, U.S. Company-1, believed to be TENET Media, has posted nearly 2,000 videos across platforms such as YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, and X, garnering over 16 million views on YouTube alone. The DOJ notes that while the content appeared to offer commentary on domestic issues, it was aligned with the Russian government's goal of weakening U.S. opposition to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. The defendants are also accused of deceiving two U.S.-based online commentators with large followings into producing content for U.S. Company-1 without disclosing RT’s involvement. The DOJ alleges that RT used a fictional persona named “Eduard Grigoriann” to conceal its role as the company’s true financial backer. Within the indictment lies a troubling sequence involving directives from Elena Afanasyeva, alias "Helena Shudra," to manipulate content creation at U.S. Company-1, aiming to tailor videos to specific agendas. Notably, in early 2024, Afanasyeva orchestrated the creation of tailored content that included a video featuring a "well-known U.S. political commentator," who MeidasTouch can identify as Tucker Carlson, during an bizarre visit to a Russian grocery store in which Carlson said he was "radicalized" by how low the prices were in Moscow.

The DOJ handed down indictments to two Russian nationals Kostiantyn Kalashnikov and Elena Afanasyeva for violating FARA.

The two helped funnel nearly $10M into creating a right-wing pro-Russia propaganda outfit called TENET Media founded by Lauren Chen and Liam Donovan. TENET Media has right-wing pundits Lauren Southern, Tim Pool, Dave Rubin, and Benny Johnson in their stable.

See Also:

The Guardian: Russia accused of trying to influence US voters through online campaign

Nashville Banner: Nashville Media Company Appears in U.S. Indictment of Russian Propaganda Efforts

Mother Jones: New Indictment Alleges Conservative Media Company Took Millions of Kremlin Cash

[coimbrabertone]

NASCAR Numerology: How NASCAR's Current Teams Got Their Numbers: Part Three.

Alright guys, we've done Trackhouse, Penske, Wood Brothers, RCR, and SHR, now we're gonna cover the numbers for Hendrick Motorsports, Roush Fenway Keselowski Racing, and Spire Motorsports. That's a grand total of nine cars to cover and some very historic numbers, so let's get on with the origins, the meaning, and some of the notable events in the history of some of the most significant numbers in modern day NASCAR.

We start with Hendrick Motorsports, which is a bit of a mess for two reasons:

The first is that Hendrick has like three different numbering schemes simultaneously: One built around the #5, one built around the #24, and a handful of car numbers that don't fit into either scheme.

The other is that Hendrick Motorsports has recently restructured, to the point where...the #5 is the #48, the #48 is the #88, the #9 is the #24, and the #24 is the #5.

Confused yet? Don't worry, I'll explain it all.

The Hendrick Motorsports story begins in 1984 with the All-Star Racing #5 of Geoff Bodine. This team initially had high aspirations, trying to sign the likes of Richard Petty, Dale Earnhardt, and Tim Richmond, but after sponsorship and co-ownership deals fell through, Rick Hendrick was left holding the bag alone, he and Geoff Bodine would need to make do with each other.

Well...they won Martinsville, Nashville Fairgrounds, and the season finale at Riverside.

This was enough to keep the #5 team alive, and for 1985, they returned, now properly under the Hendrick Motorsports banner. The #5 didn't win in 1985, but improved results throughout the season moved them up from 9th in the standings to 5th.

This was enough to finally win over Tim Richmond, who came over to start a second team with Folgers sponsorship - this was the #25, and Rick Hendrick's dad, Papa Joe, co-owning this entry.

Tim Richmond took seven wins in 1985 and finished 3rd in the standings, but unknown to everyone else...he was suffering from AIDS all this time. This would keep him out of the car for most of 1987 - with Benny Parsons running a Folgers #35 car in his place - but he would return midseason and immediately win two in a row at Pocono and Riverside.

Unfortunately, Richmond's return would only last eight races. Tim Richmond would attempt to return to NASCAR for 1988, but the medications he was taking to manage his illness conflicted with NASCAR's drug testing policy. Richmond would die from AIDS complications in August 1989.

Hendrick Motorsports at this point ran three numbers built around the #5 - the #5, the #25, and the #35.

They were also running the first non-scheme numbers in the form of the #17 with Darrell Waltrip, however, DW would take his team and his number in 1991 to start his own team, Darrell Waltrip Motorsports. The split was amicable, and Rick Hendrick actually helped DW get the team setup.

The next team - and the next numbering scheme - came in 1993, when Hendrick Motorsports hired Jeff Gordon to drive the #24. Initially, the team had intended to run the #46 - because for the movie Days of Thunder, Hendrick Motorsports provided the car and had Greg Sacks race at Phoenix 1989, Atlanta 1990, and Darlington 1990 to acquire footage.

The City Chevrolet sponsorship on the $46 Days of Thunder car is actually modeled on a real Chevrolet dealership that Rick Hendrick owns in Charlotte.

Unfortunately, issues with Paramount - who distributed Days of Thunder - prevented Hendrick Motorsports from running the #46 for real. So instead, they picked the #24, because it had relatively little history in NASCAR prior to Gordon, it was available, and it came right before #25. Thus began the most dominant partnership of the 1990s.

Jeff Gordon would win 93 times and would win championships in 1995, 1997, 1998, and 2001.

Terry Labonte in the #5 would add to Hendrick's 1990s domination with a 1996 championship.

Such was Jeff Gordon's success that, in 2001, Rick Hendrick allowed Jeff to become the co-owner of a new entry - the #48 of Jimmie Johnson. #48 was double #24, beginning the new numbering scheme. This would also see a part-time #84 car for Kyle Busch in 2004.

Jimmie would win the 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2013, and 2016 championships in the #48, equaling the 7 titles of Richard Petty and Dale Earnhardt.

Then we get the #88 car, which was set up in 2008 for Dale Earnhardt Jr. when he moved to Hendrick Motorsports. Why #88? Well, his DEI number was #8, Dale Jr. had a rabid fanbase, and a lot of people already had #8 merch and #8 tattoos. How to keep those people invested in Dale Jr.? Simple, make his new number two 8s, hence #88.

Thus, come 2017, Hendrick Motorsports has the #5 of Kasey Kahne, the #24 of Chase Elliott, the #48 of Jimmie Johnson, and the #88 of Dale Earnhardt Jr.

Then everything started to change.

For 2018, Chase Elliott moved to the #9, taking the number most associated with his famous father, Bill Elliott. Bill had run the #9 at his own team from 1975-1981, then continued running it at Melling from 1982 to 1991, and then ran the #9 again at Evernham Motorsports in 2001, 2002, and 2003 as he spearheaded Dodge's return to NASCAR.

Chase was in the #9, but he took his #24 team with him. Hence my joke about the #9 really being the #24.

Meanwhile, Kasey Kahne dropped out of Hendrick due to chronic dehydration issues impacting his ability to race. Kahne's #5 team became the #24 team for rookie William Byron.

Also in 2018, Alex Bowman took over the #88 for Dale Jr.

Fast forward to 2021, and Hendrick Motorsports shuffles things around again.

Kyle Larson started the 2020 season win Chip Ganassi Racing, however, during the COVID-19 hiatus, Kyle Larson used a racial slur on a hot mic during an iRacing event. McDonalds, Credit One Bank, and Chevrolet dropped him that day. This left Chip Ganassi no choice but to fire Larson the next day.

Kyle Larson was highly rumored to replace Jimmie Johnson in the #48 for 2021, but after the n-bomb incident, sponsor Ally didn't want to touch him.

Nevertheless, Larson dominated in dirt racing in 2020, completed a racial sensitivity course, and made outreaches to black communities to apologize for his actions, including a visit to the George Floyd Memorial in Minneapolis.

All of this convinced Rick Hendrick that he should hire Kyle Larson after all, but he needed to shuffle things around to make it happen.

The flagship #5, Hendrick's original number, would return for the first time since 2017, with Kyle Larson running it, primarily sponsored by Hendrick Cars, but also Valvoline, Cincinnati Inc., and Tarlton. The team, however, would be the same as Jimmie Johnson's 2020 #48 team.

Alex Bowman's #88 team, however, would switch to the #48 plate and take on Ally as their sponsor.

Thus the #24 became the #9, the #5 became the #24, the #48 became the #5, and the #88 became the #48.

An awful lot for one team, huh?

Roush is thankfully a bit simpler.

The #6 is Roush's flagship car and has been ever since they were founded in 1988. Why the #6? Then sponsor Stroh's Light wanted a one-digit number to be instantly recognizable. Thus, Mark Martin's time with the #6 began.

Initially, Roush built around the #6 brand, with their second car being the #16 Family Channel Ford and them running the #60 Winn-Dixie car for Martin's Busch Series starts.

Their third car in in 1996 was the #99, which didn't really fit - other than the coincidental of 9 being 6 upside-down so #99 is kinda like two sixes, but Jack Roush says that was a coincidence. But Roush Racing went back to the sixes scheme in 1998 with the #26 car. They also bought the #97 John Deere Pontiac in 1997 and changed it over to a Ford for 1998, bringing it into the team for a five-car effort.

Roush had a couple of six car races in 1999 because Jack grew interested in Busch series racer Matt Kenseth, who was running a Chevrolet for Robbie Reiser. Jack didn't seem to mind too much, and by the time 2000 rolled around, he took Reiser, Kenseth, and their #17 car into the Cup series, running the DeWalt Ford.

Matt Kenseth won Roush's first Cup championship in 2003 with the DeWalt #17, and so in 2024, RFK Racing's two cars are the #6 and the #17.

The original Roush number, and their first championship winning number.

Now for Spire Motorsports real quick.

The #7 car in NASCAR became famous due to owner-driver Alan Kulwicki, who in the late 80s and early 90s, insisted on doing things himself even as NASCAR was starting to move towards bigger, multi-car teams. Alan winning the championship himself in his own equipment in 1992 would inspire a slew of drivers to follow his lead in this era, but for Alan himself...well, he died in a plane crash on the way to Bristol in 1993.

He never got the chance to defend his title.

The #7 AK Racing team was taken over by Geoff Bodine in 1993 - 'member him from Hendrick? - and ran as Geoff Bodine Racing for awhile, before selling to Ultra Motorsports for 2000. Ultra Motorsports and the #7 car of Jimmy Spencer had precisely one notable moment to their name.

At the 2003 MBNA America 300 at Dover International Speedway, the #7 Sirius Satellite Radio Dodge was a lap down when the caution came out, becoming the first car to benefit from NASCAR's new beneficiary rule - implemented to stop drivers from racing back to the line after the caution flag came out - which led to commentator Benny Parsons dubbing him the lucky dog.

Sirius' logo at this point included a little dog.

So yeah, that's where the term "Lucky Dog" in NASCAR comes from, the more you know.

The #7 then went through Robby Gordon Motorsports for awhile, followed by Tommy Baldwin Racing - in which Danica Patrick made her final NASCAR start in the 2018 Daytona 500 - before winding up at Spire Motorsports for the 2021 season.

Corey LaJoie has run the #7 from 2021 to 2024, accomplishing fuck all, and will be replaced for the 2025 season. It is currently unknown who will replace him. Justin Haley has been linked to the ride, and he actually won Spire's only Cup series victory in only his third start at a rain-shortened 2021 Coke Zero Sugar 400 at Daytona.

Spire then built out their numbering scheme off the #7, with Carson Hocevar running the #77 and Zane Smith running the #71 - though he is due to be replaced by Michael McDowell for 2025.

So yeah, that's Hendrick, Roush, and Spire down. We've done #5, #6, #7, #8, #9, and #10 already, so next time we'll pick up with Joe Gibbs Racing and their #11 Toyota.

[bettie-may-page]

Early Bettie #33

Named Winner Of DAR Medal

Miss Bettie Page (above), sixteen-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Roy Page, 893 Carter Lane, has been named winner of the DAR medal at Hume-Fogg High School. The medal is awarded on the basis of scholarship, good citizenship, and dependability, and the recipient is chosen by the seniors and members of the faculty. Miss Page, a senior, was also voted the girl-most-likely-to-succeed in the senior class. In 1938 and 1939 she was voted the most intelligent sophomore and junior. She is former secretary) and treasurer of the Student Council and is a member of both the College and Dramatic Clubs. She is manager of the latter for the spring term this year. This outstanding student is a co-editor of the school publication, The Fogg-Horn, and recently was elected co-editor-in-chief of The Echo, annual Senior publication. For the last three years her name has appeared on the honor roll.

Clipped from the Nashville Banner, Nashville, Tennessee, Tuesday, March 19, 1940, page 20

DAR Award is a Good Citizens Award and Scholarship Contest, created in 1934, is intended to encourage and reward the qualities of good citizenship.

[busterkeatonsociety]

This Day in Buster…September 9, 1923

The Nashville Banner prints an ad for “Three Ages” with some rather unfortunate initials…

[callmeblake]

Entire playlist of the Q & A at The Basement East in Nashville, Tennessee on July 9th, 2023

[iwatcheditbegin]

I still think about the absolute chaos the night Taylor dropped that speak now tv announcement

[oneknightstand-if]

what!? Zain has his fun fact post?! not fair

please make one for Felipe ;w;

Not doing a banner for Felipe either. He can share Broderick's... which is rather suitable.

Current Job: Warehouse manager at a stuffed toy manufacturer

Favorite Color: Burnt Sienna

Favorite Drink: Black Cherry Cola

Favorite Food: Nashville Hot Chicken (but not the....)

Least Favorite Food: Chicken feet

Favorite Book Series: Never Have I Ever

Favorite Movie: The Tree of Life

Family Life: Single child but his cousins were all "hyperactive lunatics"

Favorite Karaoke Song: Real Nigga Roll Call

Cats or Dogs?: Cats

Best Known For...: Cursing someone out so much when their negligence allowed one of the shelves to collapse at the warehouse that they promptly quit working there

First Love/Crush: Zendaya -- hey, a celebrity crush counts!

You'd Never Expect....: His favorite animal to ride isn't a horse; it's an ostriche. Don't ask.

[michellecathlene]

Named Winner Of DAR Medal Miss Bettie Page (above), sixteen-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Roy Page, 893 Carter Lane, has been named winner of the DAR medal at Hume-Fogg High School. The medal is awarded on the basis of scholarship, good citizenship, and dependability, and the recipient is chosen by the seniors and members of the faculty. Miss Page, a senior, was also voted the girl-most-likely-to-succeed in the senior class. In 1938 and 1939 she was voted the most intelligent sophomore and junior. She is former secretary) and treasurer of the Student Council and is a member of both the College and Dramatic Clubs. She is manager of the latter for the spring term this year. The outstanding student is a co-editor of the school publication, The Fogg-Horn, and recently was elected co-editor-in-chief of The Echo, annual Senior publication. For the last three years her name has appeared on the honor roll.

Clipped from the Nashville Banner, Nashville, Tennessee, Tuesday, March 19, 1940, page 20

[yeoldenews]

(source: The Nashville Banner, December 13, 1907.)