#north american brand

[captdedeyes]

Congrats to Team Lightly Salted (うすしお) on winning this month’s Splatfest in Japan!

No need to get salty over this…

(Context below the cut)

This is a straightforward theme about picking your favorite flavor of potato chips. The flavor choices are lightly salted, consommé (based on the stock/broth soup of the same name), and salted seaweed.

The chip bag designs are based on Calbee products which Nintendo did a cross-promotion with.

Source (JP)

[newsbrand]

On what would have been his 67th birthday Disco King Mario gets a street named after him in The Bronx. Disco King Mario is a founding father of Hip-Hop. By 1971 Disco King Mario was the king of the park jams in The Bronx. DJ Kool Herc and Afrika Bambaata were both seen in attendance at these park jams (years later they would go on to do their own park jams). Afrika Bambaataa started out as an assistant to Mario, and Mario loaned Bambaataa the technical equipment for his first appearances as DJ. Disco King Mario was born in North Carolina in 1956 but moved to the Bronxdale Housing projects in order to escape working cotton and tobacco fields. He was an original member of the Black Spades, which is how his connection with Afrika Bambaata came about. #RIPDiscoKingMario

[jrnerad]

Mercedes-AMG GLC 43: Fighting Old Maine Winter in Performance Style

A performance crossover might not be everyone’s can of Red Bull. Some might suggest a performance CUV is akin to the world’s tallest midget, but this week co-host Chris Teague took the wheel of the hot-to-trot AMG GLC 43 in the teeth of yet another frigid Maine winter, and he’s ready to report on his finding in this edition on of America on the Road. Meanwhile, the figurative elephant in the room…

[rabbitrah]

A continuation on my post about unloved foods, specifically this is my in-depth defense of root beer.

Root Beer isn't inherently gross, it's just one of those weird local flavors that's off-putting to people who didn't grow up with it. We all like different things and also we all tend to like flavors that are similar to what we grew up with. That's okay! But honestly root beer is pretty unique and, in my opinion, delicious.

One of the main complaints against root beer is that it tastes like medicine. Funnily enough, it was originally marketed as medicinal! This is true for most OG sodas actually. Pretty much as soon as carbonated water was invented, people were drinking it to soothe various ailments. A lot of the original soft drinks were actually invented by pharmacists. I just think that root beer is especially cool because the main flavor came from the root bark of sassafras, a common North American shrub. Because it's so widespread and aromatic, all parts of the sassafras plant have been used in food and medicine by many different Native American tribes throughout history and was subsequently picked up and used by European colonists. In the 1960s, some studies indicated that that safrole oil, which is produced by the plant, can cause liver damage. Whether or not this would actually remain true after it had been boiled and added to root beer is unclear, but it was really easy to replicate the flavor, so the sassafras in commercial root beer these days is artificial. Another fun fact about safrole is that it's a precursor in the synthesis of MDMA. None of this information has stopped my childhood habit of eating sassfras leaves right off the shrub whenever I walk past it on a hike. I'm like 85% sure it's safe and also mmmm yummy leafs go crunch.

Another root beer complaint is that it tastes like toothpaste. I think this is probably because another key flavor in most root beer recipes is wintergreen. I'm assuming that the people who think this are the same people who think mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste. I can understand and even respect that some people don't like mint and associate it only with brushing their teeth, but like. Mint is a pretty common flavor. I mean I think it's safe to say that humans have been eating mint flavored stuff for longer than toothpaste has existed... anyway!

Other common flavors in root beer (real or artificial) are caramel, vanilla, black cherry bark, sarsaparilla root, ginger, and many more! There's not one official recipe, and root beer enthusiasts often have strong opinions about different brands. Some root beer is sharper, with more strong aromatic flavors, and others are mild and creamier.

Another thing I think is cool about root beer is that it's foamier than most sodas. This was originally because sassafras is a natural surfactant (and why sassafras is also a common thickening agent in Louisiana Creole cooking.) These days, other plant starches or similar ingredients are added to keep the distinctive foam. Root beer foam > all other soft drink foams. That's why root beer floats kick more ass than like, coke floats.

If you've never had root beer before, imagine if a sweetened herbal tea was turned into a soda, because that's basically what it is. If your first response to that is a cringe, fair enough. That's why lots of people don't like it. If your first response to that is "interesting... I might actually like it, though" then I encourage you to track down a can of root beer today, hard as that might be outside the US and Canada. Next time you see an "ew, root beer tastes like medicine/tooth paste" take, know that there's a reason for that, but also the same could be said for literally any herbal or minty food/drink.

My final take on root beer is that it would be the soda of choice for gnomes. Thank you and good night.

[snailkites]

Big news for bird names: American Ornithological Society to replace eponyms

AOS intends to change all offensive and eponymous (named after people) common names of birds in the USA and Canada.

Renaming these species will be done with involvement of the public and overseen by a new committee made up of ornithologists, social scientists, and communications and taxonomy experts.

AOS will work with the ornithological societies of Central and South America determine who in these regions will maintain stewardship of common English names.

AOS announcement: https://americanornithology.org/about/english-bird-names-project/american-ornithological-society-council-statement-on-english-bird-names

More information under the cut.

How do bird names work? Scientific names (binomials like Zonotrichia albicollis) are set by the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature. These names are meant to be unique, unchanging, and universally recognized. Common names, on the other hand, are more fluid. The American Ornithological Society is the recognized authority on English-language common names for North American birds, published in their annual Checklist.

The larger context. Ornithologists name birds after people to commemorate those individuals, but this create problems. What do you do when a common name is racist, or when a bird is named after someone who, frankly, sucked? AOS has changed bird names for both of these reasons already.

In 2000 AOS changes the common name of Clangula hyemalis from a racist word for Native women to Long-tailed Duck (although at the time, they denied it was because of "political correctness")

2021: AOS changes the common name of Rhynchophanes mccownii from McCown's Longspur to Thick-billed Longspur. McCown was a Confederate. The push to rename this bird was a flashpoint in the #birdnames4birds movement.

Why not decide one-by-one? Sometimes it's obvious. For example, John James Audubon was a grave-robbing, slave-owning racist; birds such as Audubon's Oriole and Audubon's Shearwater are named after him. Although the National Audubon Society has voted to keep their name ("won't someone consider the branding"), many chapters have changed their names, e.g. the Chicaco Bird Alliance. Other individuals with birds named after them are less well-known or clear-cut in how much they did or did not suck. Removing all eponyms, rather than debating who sucks on a case-by-case basis, will cut down on the arguments.

How will this actually happen? It's not yet clear. Any free-for-all-poll might result in some Birdy McBirdFaces. No timeline either. But it sounds like this really is happening!

[metamatar]

something something american necropolitics the tillamook county creamery association found online on tillamook dot com that sells many dairy products in the united states under the brand name tillamook has no relationship and makes no acknowledgement of the tillamook people from whom it get its name. the name comes from the chinook translation of the people of nehalem. early contact with european sailing ships is dated to the 1770s. in 1805 lewis and clark's "discovery" expedition noted at the time that many large villages had been depopulated by pandemics and many adults had smallpox scars. this followed a period of fur trading with the involvement of hudson bay corporation. in 1850, the us govt passed the oregon donation land act, announcing over 2,500,000 acres of land as available for settlers to seize, which happened in patterns whose violence mirrors that of the continent. there was no treaty. in 1907, the tribe sued and was paid 23,500 dollars for the land the us govt has seized from them when it forced them onto the siletz reservation. the tillamook language is a salishan language that lost its last fluent speaker in 1970. many descendants are considered part of the confederated tribes of siletz. other nehalem are part of the unrecognized clatsop nehalem confederated tribes. the nehalem-tillamook were also socially and economically integrated with the clatsop peoples. today the town of tillamook has a population that is only 1.5% native american. the modern day corporation started as a settler coop created in 1909. it is the 48th largest dairy processor in north america and posted $1 billion in sales in 2021.

[cassandraclare]

New publishing announcement!

Hi guys!

I know it’s been a long time since there’s been news about The Wicked Powers. I’ve actually been sitting on information for a long time because I was not allowed to talk about it. It was making me pull out all my hair, so I am super glad to be able to share the following announcement with you: The Wicked Powers is scheduled for publication, and will be published by Walker Books in the UK and Random House in the US.

There’s a bunch more about this announcement, including the announcement of a brand-new YA romantasy series I’ll be doing called In Fire Foretold. That will be published by Pan Macmillan in the UK (same people who published Sword Catcher) and by Random House in the US.

I know there will be a lot of questions about what my schedule is, why things are coming out when they are, whether I have anything coming out next year (Yes, The Ragpicker King, the sequel to Sword Catcher, and also for those who participated in the Kickstarter, those four books) and the overall future of everything Shadowhunter-related. So I will be doing followup announcements to address all that stuff, but first, here are both press release from my publishers in the US and then in the UK with all the info!

GLOBALLY BESTSELLING FANTASY PHENOMENON CASSANDRA CLARE TO PUBLISH  FINAL TRILOGY IN THE ‘SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES’  AND NEW DUOLOGY WITH ALFRED A. KNOPF BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS  First book in THE WICKED POWERS to release in Spring 2026

(New York, NY, April 5, 2024)—Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, will publish five new books from #1 New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cassandra Clare, whose novels have sold more than 40 million copies worldwide, been translated into 43 languages, and published in more than 60 countries. The new publications will begin in Spring 2026 with the first book in THE WICKED POWERS trilogy, the sixth and final series in Clare’s 23-book, young adult fantasy franchise The Shadowhunter Chronicles. Also slated for publication with Knopf is a brand-new YA romantasy duology, IN FIRE FORETOLD. The news was announced today by Melanie Nolan, VP and Publisher, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, who acquired North American rights from Suzie Townsend and Joanna Volpe of New Leaf Literary & Media in a highly competitive auction. Michelle Frey, Senior Executive Editor, Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers, will edit both series. 

Cassandra Clare mesmerized readers across the globe with the publication of City of Bones (2007), the first book in the Mortal Instruments series, and was quickly dubbed the “New Queen of Fantasy” by the Wall Street Journal. The Mortal Instruments became the basis for the far-reaching Shadowhunter Chronicles, an intricately drawn world that has seen global success and has been adapted into both a feature film and television show. The books follow the Shadowhunters, a secretive race of humans born with angel blood, whose mission is to eliminate the demons that plague the Earth. Knopf’s first publishing collaboration with Clare, THE WICKED POWERS (Spring 2026), will follow Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, and Drusilla Blackthorn from The Dark Artifices series as they are drawn into the final massive conflict between the demons and the angels. 

IN FIRE FORETOLD is a pulse-pounding YA romantasy duology set in a new world with entirely new characters. The story centers a young woman who must learn to control her dangerous magical abilities in order to save her kingdom, all while finding herself torn between two brothers—the kingdom's princes, born to a cursed royal bloodline. The publication date for IN FIRE FORETOLD, as well as news of additional books to come from Cassandra Clare and Knopf, will be announced. 

Says Cassandra Clare: "I am delighted to have Knopf and Penguin Random House as my publishers for this last trilogy in the Shadowhunters world. They truly understand what it means—both for the story and for my readers—to wrap up such an epic tale that has been told over so many years. I'm also excited to be launching my next YA series — a kickass portal fantasy that contains a ton of things I love, from a bold and reckless heroine to a magical wasteland filled with terrifying monsters that must be fought, to a love triangle with two very unusual cursed princes. I can't wait for us to bring these stories to the world."

Says Michelle Frey: “Cassandra Clare is a beloved author whose work has a massive following for good reason: she sucks you into a fully imagined world and never lets go until the last, satisfying page. I have long admired Cassie and am thrilled to be working with her on both the delectable final trilogy in the Shadowhunter Chronicles and the heart-stopping new love triangle she has dreamed up with IN FIRE FORETOLD.”

Random House Children’s Books (rhcbooks.com) is the world’s largest English-language children’s trade book publisher. Creating books for toddlers through young adult readers, in all formats from board books to activity books to picture books, novels, and nonfiction, the imprints of Random House Children’s Books bring together award-winning authors and illustrators, world-famous franchise characters, and multimillion-copy series. Random House Children’s Books is a division of Penguin Random House LLC.

UK/AUS/NZ:

Walker Books will publish three new books, the final trilogy in Shadowhunter Chronicles, the first coming in Spring 2026.

Separately, First Ink will publish a brand new YA duology, introducing readers to a fantastical new world of Clare’s creation, filled with enticing new characters and heart-racing action. With sales figures for Cassandra’s novels exceeding 40 million copies worldwide, translated into 43 languages and published in more than 60 countries, these are exciting and major acquisitions for both publishing houses.

Walker will launch THE WICKED POWERS in Spring 2026 with the first book in the trilogy, The Last King of Faerie. THE WICKED POWERS is the final instalment of Clare’s 23-book, young adult fantasy series, Shadowhunter Chronicles.

THE WICKED POWERS (Spring 2026), will follow Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn, and Drusilla Blackthorn from The Dark Artifices series as they are drawn into the final massive conflict between the demons and the angels. The novel marks the beginning of the final trilogy in Clare’s globally beloved series.

Cassandra Clare Says about THE WICKED POWERS: "I’m thrilled to be taking this momentous step in the Shadowhunter chronicles with Walker! They published City of Bones in 2007 and now we will be bringing this huge epic to a close together. With their creativity and dedication, I know they’ll do it justice."

Denise Johnstone Burt says: “We at Walker are immensely proud to have been Cassie’s publishers from the very beginning, when City of Bones launched the Shadowhunters into the world. Since then Cassie has become one of the most beloved writers in YA fantasy all over the world, and with very good reason. Her world-building and character portrayal are absolutely second to none and her books never fail to mesmerise her fans. I am delighted that we will be returning to the world of Shadowhunters once again in THE WICKED POWERS, and know Cassie will bring the Chronicles to a conclusion with her trademark brilliance and consummate style.”

First Ink will publish IN FIRE FORETOLD, a pulse-pounding YA romantasy duology set to delight all fans of Cassie Clare. UK and Commonwealth rights were acquired by Samantha Smith, Publisher of First Ink and Macmillan Children’s Books�� Fiction, Non Fiction and Picture Book List, from Danny Baror and Heather Baror-Shapiro at Baror International.  The duology will be a super lead title for First Ink and will launch with a significant multi-channel communications campaign including national media, influencer and fan events [HBS1] and multimedia advertising.

IN FIRE FORETOLD sees the launch of a brand new world and set of entirely new characters for Clare. The story centres on a young woman who must learn to control her dangerous magical abilities in order to save her kingdom, all while finding herself torn between two brothers - the kingdom's princes - born to a cursed royal bloodline.

Cassandra Clare says about IN FIRE FORETOLD: “I’m so excited to be publishing IN FIRE FORETOLD with First Ink. This story contains so many things I love- it’s a portal fantasy that swings between worlds, where the gritty LA streets exist alongside a dangerous magical world filled with deadly monsters - and a uniquely tough heroine who’s ready to do battle on all sides. Not to mention some gorgeous princes with shady pasts. I know how much Pan Macmillan loves fantasy and how well they publish it so I’m thrilled for this partnership."

Samantha Smith, Publisher at First Ink, says: “Cassandra Clare is a phenomenon author who has delighted and surprised her millions of readers across the world for decades now. As a huge fan of both her YA Mortal Instruments series and latest adult fantasy Sword Catcher, I cannot wait for her to turn her formidable pen to a new, heart-stopping series in In the Fire Foretold and could not be more excited to welcome her onto the First Ink list”

Belinda Ioni Rasmussen, Managing Director at Macmillan Children’s Books, says: “ Welcoming Cassandra Clare to First Ink with a brand new fantasy world is very exciting - both for us and her fans.  Her storytelling is second to none and her new duology on our list is the perfect partner series to her brilliant publishing that sits on our Tor list at Pan Macmillan.”

About Walker Books

Home to books for all ages, Walker Books publishes many award-winning authors, illustrators, and literary franchisesincluding Anthony Horowitz, Angie Thomas, Cassandra Clare, Lucy Cousins, Anthony Browne, Patrick Ness, Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney and Anita Jeram, We’re Going on a Bear Hunt by Michael Rosen and Helen Oxenbury, and Where’s Wally? by Martin Handford. Walker Books is part of the vibrant international Walker Books Group that includes Walker Books Australia; Candlewick Press and Walker Books US in America and Walker Productions.

About Pan Macmillan

At Pan Macmillan we publish a broad and vibrant range of books for audiences of all ages, from dazzling bestsellers to influential prize-winners; books to inspire lifelong readers and listeners to enduring classics for generations to come. The fourth largest UK publisher, we pride ourselves on publishing successfully and sustainably and are committed to working together to positively impact culture and society at large.

[sgiandubh]

In other news...

S in Andermatt, Switzerland - posh, expensive, overrated ski resort, on par with the more famous Zermatt -, sharing a selfie with Leoni Zopp, aka @lexonii on IG, who hails from Andermatt itself, btw:

Quite an interesting character, this one, with her own accidental downfall (in more ways than one) & redemption/fortitude story:

This is clearly some sort of business (?) stunt/collaboration between S, Stellar Equipment and Zopp, who is actively being promoted as one of their brand ambassadors - see the 'thanks @ stellarequipment' mention in his post above, it is enlightening enough and tells us this is an #ad post, as per UK legislation:

[Source, LOL: https://www.stellarequipment.com/interstellar/people/leoni-zopp]

And before trolls would go to lewd speculation (they already did, LOL), she does have a significant other, so - no dice. They even spent three weeks in South Africa, late 2023/early 2024 and went to a wedding together, there. Nope, not exactly her brother, heh:

This non event aside (God forbid Those Two would be seen in the same place and at the same time!), what is next for S, spare that TCND panel in New York, on January 15th?

A new book, it would seem:

It will be published in the UK on September 18th 2025, by Quadrille Publishing Ltd (formerly Hardie Grant Books, before being acquired by Penguin Random House UK in May 2024, see here: https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/publisher-news/article/95140-hardie-grant-rebrands-as-quadrille-following-prh-uk-acquisition.html ), which is more than decent:

... and on September 23, 2025, in the US:

Finally, as per Norouzi's latest story, the Sassenach gin finally made it to the Whole Foods' supermarket shelves, which is not bad at all, either. The price tag is still reasonable-ish: 46 $.

All this added up, my question is: how long before yet another Sassenach Spirits' North American Tour?

I am ready to bet hard cash for it and you probably read it here first.

Cue in vicious Anons, I don't care. I won't answer them anymore - it gives undue space to idiots and I think you didn't like or follow this page for that reason only. #NewYearResolution

[seat-safety-switch]

Although the Pizza Hut brand still occupies parts of this world, it no longer stands for what it once did. You'll be hard-pressed to locate a sundae bar, glittery sticker dispenser, or red cups made of translucent acrylic – of which I can assure you were once "bottomless." The only thing left are the disaffected, stoned teenagers taking the orders. That, and the Personal Pan Pizza: more than any other, a symbol of North American culture.

In Italy, where hard-working chefs stole the idea for the pizza from visiting space aliens, they decided that a pizza should be shared. Sure, they are often capable of being eaten solo, and the owner of the restaurant would be extremely pleased if each member of your party slammed their own pizza down before ordering a flotilla of liquor, but the way they are enjoyed best is to give a couple slices to your friend. This means you have to compromise on toppings, of course, which is a concept alien to those of us raised on lifted Powerstrokes and fuzzy VHS tapes of air show disasters.

Not so with the Personal Pan Pizza – you get what you want, and to Hell with everyone else in the dining establishment. As well, Pizza Hut gets to charge a little extra margin on each pizza, their shareholders laughing all the way to the bank. You're happy, they're happy. Maybe the guy (your stepdad?) paying the bill at the end of the night isn't happy, but he can get a Personal of his very own.

Nowadays, this humble concept of individuality is becoming abandoned in favour of collectivism. No, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those radical psychopaths who films TikTok videos about overthrowing the government from the front seat of his pickup truck. Pretty sure all those dudes got blown up by drones a couple weeks ago, and replaced by exact body duplicates grown in a lab. What I care about is being able to get a good paint colour on a new car.

Nowadays, everyone worries about resale value. Back then, nobody freaked out about choosing the optimal toppings to keep their lease payments low on their pizza; that would have been an insane thing to say. The pizza was for their enjoyment, and it was meant to be used up. Maybe the crusts got left behind and stolen by a rat. That rat is me. What I'm trying to say is: please order your new hybrid Lexus in bright green, so that I can drive it in thirty years. Don't be so selfish.

[xoxorealitygalore]

Nasty Dancer

Summary: Due to her unyielding confidence, Aphrodite earns her spot on the main roster, becoming The Bloodline's manager — or rather, Sefa's Special Counsel. His Wisewoman. But can she maintain her bold, unapologetic style when faced with her greatest challenge yet: working alongside her ex-boyfriend?

Joseph Yokozuna Fatu (born March 18, 1993) is an American professional wrestler. He is signed to WWE, where he performs on the SmackDown brand under the ring name Solo Sikoa as the leader of The Bloodline.

Aphrodite Erykah Caramanica (born February 7, 1996) is an American professional wrestler. She is signed to WWE, where she performs on the Smackdown brand as a manager of The Bloodline stable. She is also a former one-time NXT Women's Champion, one-time NXT Women's North American Champion, and a two-time NXT Women's Tag Team Champion.

noitsreallyaphrodite ✓

1,325 Posts 1.8M Followers 900 Following

A P H R O D I T E ♥︎

Athlete

@wwe

Liked by trinity_fatu, miayimofficial, nikkita_wwe, and 341,634 others

noitsreallyaphrodite POP UP GUESS WHO

#RawOnNetflix

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Aphrodite had worked tirelessly to reach this moment. From the moment she signed her contract with WWE in 2020, she knew her journey wouldn't be easy. But she wasn’t the type to shy away from a challenge. Her unyielding confidence had been her trademark ever since she stepped foot into the NXT developmental brand. She wasn’t just a talented wrestler; she was a force to be reckoned with. Two-time NXT Women's Champion, one-time NXT Women's North American Champion, and a two-time NXT Women's Tag Team Champion—her accolades spoke for themselves. Aphrodite was a rising star in the wrestling world, and it was time for the world to see what she was truly capable of.

Her big moment had finally arrived.

It was the debut of WWE's weekly Monday Night Raw program on Netflix, a new chapter for the company. The streaming service had chosen to bring wrestling to the forefront of their programming, and this was the perfect event to launch the next era. The stars of WWE were out in full force, making their way down the red carpet at the Intuit Dome in Inglewood, California. The cameras flashed as each wrestler posed, showcasing their Hollywood-ready looks. Aphrodite stood among them, effortlessly commanding attention in a stunning outfit that was a perfect mix of strength and elegance. Her aura was undeniable—every inch the star she was born to be.

As the cameras captured her every move, she felt a rush of excitement. This was just the beginning.

Backstage, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. The locker rooms were filled with wrestlers catching up, preparing for the night's events, and celebrating their own achievements. But for Aphrodite, everything was about to change. She had been waiting for this moment ever since she signed with WWE, and she had known deep down that her time at NXT wouldn’t last forever. The next phase of her career had been calling to her, and now, Paul Levesque was about to make it official.

Aphrodite stood with Paul in a quiet corner of the backstage area, her heart pounding in anticipation. The words she had been waiting for were about to leave his lips.

“You’ve done exceptionally well over at NXT,” Paul said, looking at her with an approving smile. “But it’s time to make your mark on SmackDown.”

Aphrodite’s eyes widened. She had expected this moment to come, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real. “I’m ready,” she said with a confident grin.

Paul nodded, but the next words he spoke made her stomach drop. “After discussing with the creative team, we believe your next role should be The Bloodline’s manager… Joseph’s special counsel. His wisewoman.”

Aphrodite blinked, unsure whether she had heard him correctly. “Are you serious?”

Paul’s expression was unwavering. “Very serious. Heyman and Joe have been keeping an eye on you for a while now, and they think you’re perfect for the next phase of The Bloodline storyline. You should be honored.”

Her mind raced. The Bloodline? The most powerful faction in WWE. And not just as a member, but as a manager? Aphrodite had built her career on being unapologetically bold, and now she would be standing beside one of WWE’s most dominant forces. But there was more to this than just the role.

“I’ll do it,” Aphrodite replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. “I can’t stay at NXT forever, and this could be the chance to prove myself to everyone.”

Paul gave a satisfied nod. “Good. I’ll leave you to enjoy the show. Congratulations, Aphrodite.”

As Paul walked away, Aphrodite stood frozen for a moment, processing everything. Her mind quickly flashed to her past—years of struggle, sweat, and sacrifice to reach this point. Now, here she was, about to step into the most high-profile role of her career.

After the conversation with Paul, Aphrodite wandered through the backstage area, absorbing the whirlwind of activity around her. The stars of Raw and SmackDown mingled, catching up, sharing stories and preparing for the night’s events. It was a celebration of the future, of new beginnings, and of the legacy of WWE’s most iconic athletes.

Aphrodite caught sight of Trinity, one of her closest friends in WWE, who waved her over with a grin. “Hey, Dottie!” Trinity called. “Let’s get some pictures!”

Aphrodite smiled, stepping over to her friend. They posed together for a few photos, laughing and reminiscing. As they were finishing up, Aphrodite noticed a familiar face nearby—none other than Travis Scott.

“Hey, Jacques,” Aphrodite greeted with a knowing smile. She was one of the few who could call him by his real name, a testament to their long history together.

“Hey, Dottie,” Travis said, pulling her into a hug. They had known each other for years, both rising to prominence in their respective worlds—Aphrodite in WWE, and Travis in the music industry. Their bond was strong, built on years of shared experiences.

As they chatted, Aphrodite couldn’t help but let slip the news of her big call-up. “I’m officially on the main roster,” she said, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Travis raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “That's amazing. I knew you had it in you. You always did.”

He paused for a moment before a grin spread across his face. “You know what? I think I should make your entrance theme song. What do you think?”

Aphrodite’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that, Jacques! Let’s make it happen.”

They exchanged a quick handshake, sealing the deal, before Aphrodite was pulled away by a member of the production crew.

The production crew member led Aphrodite down a hallway, her thoughts still racing from the earlier conversation. They stopped in front of a backstage area where none other than Joseph Fatu—better known as Solo Sikoa, the self-proclaimed "Tribal Chief" of The Bloodline—was waiting. The moment she laid eyes on him, a strange mixture of emotions stirred within her.

“Looks like it’s official,” Joseph said, his voice smooth but laced with a hint of amusement. “So, you're my wisewoman now?”

Aphrodite couldn’t suppress a small chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I am, Joseph.”

He raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Ouch. What happened to calling me Sefa?”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed as the years of history between them surfaced in an instant. “Ain’t that reserved for family?”

Once upon a time, she had been ready to take that next step with him. But he had ended things abruptly. He’d chosen to reunite with his baby mama for the sake of their sons, and Aphrodite had respected his decision, even if it broke her heart.

Joseph’s expression softened, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “You can still call me Sefa, Aphrodite,” he said quietly, his tone shifting from playful to sincere.

Aphrodite stared at him for a long moment, the emotions inside her a swirl of unresolved feelings. But she had been through too much to let herself be caught up in old memories. She couldn’t afford to let him get to her, not again. He had broken her once, and she wasn’t about to give him the power to do it again.

She kept her voice calm and professional. “I’ll call you whatever I need to for the job, Sefa. Let’s keep this professional, alright?”

Joseph looked at her for a moment longer, as if weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he nodded. “Alright, Aphrodite. Professional. But just know, I’m glad you’re here. The Bloodline needs you.”

Her chest tightened at his words. The Bloodline—the very thing she was now a part of. But it wasn’t just about the group; it was about proving herself to everyone who had ever doubted her.

With a nod, Aphrodite turned to face the cameras, knowing that the journey ahead would not only challenge her professionally but personally. The eyes of the world would be on her, and she had no intention of letting them down. No matter what happened, she would rise to the occasion, unyielding and unapologetic, just as she always had.

As the segment wrapped, Aphrodite walked off, the weight of her new role settling into her bones. The future was uncertain, but one thing was for sure: She wasn’t going anywhere.

Next: Chapter Two

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

bb Porsche Turbo Targa Moonracer, 2014. After a 28 year hiatus Rainer Buchmann relaunched his bb brand at Frankfurt in 2014 with a reinterpretation of 1976 bb 911 Turbo Targa Rainbow. Moving forward 10 years Galpin Motors has announced a collaboration with bb-Auto to introduce the company and its products to the North American market. BB-Auto will make it's North American debut at Monterey Car Week in August with a homage to its original "Polaroid" 911

[chrkrose]

A lot of Brazilian fans waking up to who Taylor Swift actually is and honestly? Finally.

The way she has handled not only the death of a fan but the rescheduling of her concert has been nothing short of horrendous and she deserves all the criticism she’s getting from Brazilian swifities and the general public around here. All she cares about is her brand and how things will impact her carefully built image:

- She made a point of posting an Instagram stories (so it won’t be on her feed) about the death of a fan without even mentioning the girl by name, lying about it happening before her concert when in reality the girl started succumbing to the heat when cruel summer was playing, and saying she wouldn’t talk about the girl on stage at all (probably so there wouldn’t be video recording of her talking about it).

- She waited an entire day, knowing fans were queuing under the sun to enter the venue, and when 95% of the public was already inside the stadium, to only then announce it via insta stories again that the show would be rescheduled, an hour before the show was about to start. Taylor’s team and t4f spent the entire day in “conversations” about rescheduling the concert or not and were “monitoring” the situation. As if the weather forecast wasn’t known for days ahead of the day of the concert. As if a fan hadn’t died the day prior because of the heat.

I’ll finish this post with the statement about North American fans not being able to buy tickets vs statement about Brazilian fans who spent hours and hours in line in a 42 degree sun, entered the stadium, spent absurd amounts of money on water (which was not in abundance as expected), after a fan died the day prior because of the heat:

I hope Brazilians (and people from countries outside Europe and North America) start realizing how these international stars actually treat us and stop giving these people any kind of respect, they clearly do not deserve it. Let’s celebrate our national music scene or international artists who actually give a fuck about us.

[azuremist]

“It might feel as if Musk is untouchable. But he’s not. And this growing discontent can be channeled into concrete action. If you want Musk to feel your rage, don’t buy a Tesla. And if you already own one, consider selling it.

Musk’s stake in Tesla comprises the lion’s share of his wealth. He can laugh off a few protesters, but if consumers launch a sustained boycott, both Musk and his car company could find themselves in dire straits. Tesla was already in a precarious position before Musk’s flirtation with the far right turned into an all-out embrace. Nosediving sales would be an incapacitating blow. …

Tesla’s soaring valuation has been driven primarily by two forces: first, historically scorching sales growth across its three core markets of North America, Europe, and China; and second, investor belief that Musk is a genius who can conjure lucrative innovations out of thin air. …

With Tesla’s fundamentals looking shaky, the company’s elevated stock price becomes increasingly dependent on the belief that Musk the magician can deliver wildly creative new products. That image is fading. Last year, Tesla rented Warner Bros. Studios, in Burbank, California, to unveil the “Cybercab,” a vehicle that, according to Musk, will begin offering robotaxi service in Austin this summer. The market response to the Cybercab has been tepid; many observers noted that the company’s CEO has consistently failed to meet previous deadlines to deliver self-driving technology, and that Waymo, which already offers robotaxi service in several cities, seems far ahead. …

A North American sales collapse would be a disaster for Tesla shareholders, starting with Musk himself, who owns around 13 percent of the company. “Musk’s stake in Tesla is partly pledged for loans that he depends on for cash,” Niedermeyer said. If the value of his Tesla stock falls, lenders could force Musk to sell additional shares. Many Tesla investors (and his fan base) may see that as a vote of no confidence in the company’s future, prompting them to sell shares—triggering a full-on Wall Street rout, with Tesla’s stock crashing in value.

What does this mean for people outraged by Musk’s recent behavior? Take it out on Tesla by boycotting the company. Any further dip in Tesla sales would amplify growing calls for Musk’s ouster as CEO. Whatever time Musk spends doing damage control is time not spent dismantling federal agencies or elevating Europe’s far right. If you were considering buying a Tesla, don’t. If you’re renting a car, choose another brand. And if you own a Tesla, sell it. Yes, that would help: A deluge of used Teslas would lower their resale value, further depressing the new-car sales that the company depends upon.

For years, Tesla has capitalized on Musk’s showmanship and celebrity to obtain an eye-watering market valuation. Now that Musk is wreaking havoc on America, it’s rational that people direct their fury at the car company whose identity is inextricably linked to his own.”

[blurredcolour]

In The Bleak Mid-Winter

[One-shot]

Ronald Speirs x Nurse!Female Reader

No good deed goes unpunished, but your reassignment brings with it an unexpected reward.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex - m/f receiving, fingering, cum eating] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: This was written entirely on my phone as my laptop is in for emergency repairs - I hated the experience, and apologize if there are any formatting issues or a surplus of typos. Also, I made some distinct narrative choices in writing this but I won’t burden you with them up front. They’re in the post-script if you’re interested! This is a work of fiction based off the actors’ portrayal in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life persons mentioned within.

Word Count: 6171

————————————-

December 29, 1944 - Bastogne

“Fifty surgeries in two days with only three deaths. It is nothing short of a miracle. I’m halfway through a report recommending you all for a medal....and then I come to find out you landed in the middle of an encircled town on an unpiloted glider, through all manner of artillery fire, with a goddamn woman?! A woman!”

Your bleary eyes focused on the lit end of the cigarette pinched between the index and middle finger of your right hand, the icy caress of the north wind howling between the tent and the garage outside the Bastogne barracks one of the only things keeping you awake. Weary from nearly forty-eight hours of surgery, it would have been difficult to stay awake under normal circumstances, but the mortification you felt as General McAuliffe screamed at Major Dorward behind thin walls of canvas was certainly helping keep you on your aching feet in the ankle deep snow.

Bundled tightly in your great coat, collar turned up against the wind, face buried into the olive drab scarf around your neck, helmet protecting your head, the only bit of exposed skin was that hand you were straining to focus on. The other was deep inside your pocket, balled into a fist. You were vaguely aware of various people darting through the barracks yard behind you, making their way to and fro, loading vehicles, delivering men to the now-central clearing station since the bombing of the cathedral the day before your arrival. Covered as you were, you were barely indistinguishable from an ordinary soldier, yet the General had managed to find out your secret nonetheless.

“I have every faith that she can handle herself out here sir, there was no more qualified surgical assistant to accompany us.”

“But she is not a surgical assistant, Major, is she?! She’s just a nurse! A nurse whose life you endangered by sneaking her aboard that glider! I ought to have you court martialed!!!”

The General did have a point, hidden though it was within the avalanche of vitriol he was sending the Major’s way. You were in fact no more than a surgical nurse - assistants were enlisted men. But during your third or fourth surgery with the Major, right after D-Day, a brand new surgical assistant had been assigned to the operating room and not five minutes in had fainted to the floor.

With the patient in a life threatening position you had stepped forward to fill in the gap and ensure no impact to care or outcome. It had been the start of a very effective working relationship as the 12th Evacuation Hospital made its way across France behind the advancing American army.

Thus when Major Dorward had volunteered for this assignment, and asked if you would consider joining him, your only hesitation was born of the concern for the hell you two might catch. The hell he was in the very midst of catching right now.

You hissed at the sudden pain as the lit end of the cigarette met your flesh and quickly flicked it into the snow, not having taken one puff. When General Nuts himself had stormed into the tent, eyes blazing, the Major had sent you outside in the early dawn light with the lit cigarette and his rifle for protection. It had rather felt like you were your own firing squad, though the Major was most certainly the one under fire at the moment.

The creak of boots in the nearby snow, much closer than all those that had passed by before, made you jump slightly. You turned quickly to see an exhausted soldier, eyes bleached a pale grey in the now-brilliant morning sunshine. He looked cold, and exhausted, as all the men you’d run into here did. His face was handsome, though, lashes luxuriously long for a man carrying a Thompson submachine gun. He held out a pack of cigarettes to you, offering you a new one to replace that which you’d mistakenly allowed to burn out and you shook your head before extracting your face from its position nestled deep within your scarf.

“I don’t actually smoke, please don’t waste any of your cigarettes on me, soldier.” You smiled weakly, watching as his eyes widened a fraction before the General’s voice somehow rose even further in volume to respond to something the Major had said.

“I don’t give two shits if she can transplant heads, the risks involved were unacceptable, Major, and believe me you have not heard the last of this! Your surgical record over the last two days has been impressive, but this was utterly reckless!”

The soldier’s eyes flicked to the tent then back to you as everything surely came together in his mind and you looked down at the outline of yourcombat boots buried in the snow, wondering if it was too much to ask for the ground to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You heard the tent flap flutter and tensed in anticipation of the General’s departure, but instead a gunshot rang out from across the clearing beyond the barracks, the snow scattering at your feet.

Strong arms yanked around your waist and pulled you back behind the shelter of the tent and the pair of you quickly lay flat in the snow, unmoving, barely breathing. The harassment from the enemy had been almost constant from the moment the glider had entered occupied air space and that, combined with any and all abilities you might possess being questioned by the General simply because of your gender, had you feeling rather enraged.

Pulling Major Dorward’s rifle from your shoulder, you crawled on your elbows to cautiously peer around the corner of the tent across the meadow and into the tree line beyond. Nothing moved. Years spent stalking deer at your father’s side had taught you patience, and how to aim the rifle in your hands. It seemed the former would not be required as a soldier came blithely walking out of the garage-turned-operating theatre completely unaware that there was a sniper.

The soldier at your side gestured at him violently - you could feel the movement of his body where his hip was still pressed against your leg, but it went unnoticed. Another shot rang out.

“Holy shit!” The man wailed as he darted back inside, a shower of brick dust audibly hitting the snow somewhere to your rear. The sniper was clearly lacking in talent, but you were focused on the movement in the coniferous tree to your two o’clock.

Exhaling slowly you squeezed the trigger and there was a hoarse shout followed by the sound of a body tumbling through cracking branches and ending in a sickening thud.

“Trying to kill my goddamn patients.” You muttered bitterly under your breath and carefully sat up, looking back to the soldier as he exhaled slowly.

He was eyeing you, expression intense and inscrutable, but your gaze was drawn to the gap at the collar of his ODs where you could see fresh blood oozing from a poorly bandaged wound at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, staining his wool shirt just below below his silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia.

“You’re bleeding, Lieutenant.” You said quickly, pushing on his hip to encourage him to roll over so you might kneel at his side for a better look, pleased when he immediately complied.

You laid the rifle in the snow next to him and pulled the bandages away, frowning deeply to see lingering splinters of wood in the wound. As you carefully probed at them he hissed and you tensed, quickly apologizing.

“It’s nothing, ma’am, I’m fine.”

The tent flap opening and closing followed by heavy footfalls in the snow signalled the arrival of General McAuliffe on the scene.

“Everything alright, Lieutenant?” He asked quickly and the man below you nodded quickly.

“Just some shrapnel from a tree burst, sir.”

You looked up to the General slowly, watching his eyes land on the rifle at the Lieutenant’s side before glancing across the clearing.

“Good. Well done with the sniper, son.”

The Lieutenant shifted uncomfortably but you nodded quickly, helping him sit up. “An impressive shot, sir.” You added.

The General’s eyes fell on you, still full of that heated rage, but apparently he’d run out of words to say on the subject of your unwanted presence for he simply turned and made his way back towards the barracks.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lieutenant.” You turned back to him, the coppery tang of blood on the air focusing you like nothing else seemed to be able to.

Working your way to your feet, you picked up the abandoned rifle before leading him into the tent. Major Dorward looked up from some papers on his desk, opening his mouth but closing it quickly as you were followed by the Lieutenant.

“Tree burst shrapnel, sir.” You announced in your easy working shorthand.

“Damn Nazis have weaponized the forest. Have a seat, soldier.” He stood and offered his chair, walking over to the stash of supplies to fetch a field kit and bandages for you as you set the rifle on the cot in the corner, putting your helmet down beside it. “Ah my apologies, trooper.” He amended.

You turned back to see the distinct jump boots with bloused trousers now that the Lieutenant was seated and smiled. “I apologize as well, Lieutenant. I missed that outside.”

You worked his ODs and wool shirt open to began carefully cleaning his wound, leaving him in his undershirt in the chill of the tent.

“Doesn’t seem you miss much, Nurse.” He looked up to you as he spoke softly and you swallowed thickly as you noted his eyes were actually hazel, with flecks of gold around his pupils.

Mercifully Major Dorward broke out into rich laughter and shook his head. “That she doesn’t.” He commiserated affectionately from his newfound seat on the cot.

“Let me guess,” you murmured to the man seated before you as you gently worked out the last few splinters of wood that had escaped initial treatment, “you also told them this was nothing at the aid station because there were men there whom you considered hurt worse than you.” You glanced to his face as his lips twitched a little. “This could have become a real problem, Lieutenant, I’m glad you came over to offer me a cigarette.”

Turning back, you called the Major over to double check your work.

“Wound is clean and ready for bandaging.” He nodded after looking it over. “When you’re done I suggest you try and sleep. We’re driving out as soon as the truck is ready and the ride out will be about as relaxing as the flight in.”

“Understood, thank you Major.” You nodded as he stepped out of the tent to light a cigarette. You carefully lay some gauze over the crook of the Lieutenant’s shoulder before wrapping some bandages around his neck and under his armpit to hold it in place. “This should heal nicely in a week or so if you can do your best to keep it dry for me…” you trailed off as your fingers found the hole in his ODs.

Casting about the tent, your eyes landed on a tattered blanket in the corner and you began fashioning a patch, whip stitching it into place over the gash in the fabric. “That ought to do it.”

“Thank you, Nurse.” He murmured, looking up at you before he stood slowly, buttoning up his shirt and ODs with practiced efficiency.

“Take care of yourself, trooper.” You nodded, watching him step out, hoping against hope that he would be alright out there.

General McAuliffe proved to be a man of his word, which in retrospect was of no surprise to you whatsoever. The hellish ride out of Bastogne in the back of a truck on the only opened road, with the sounds of battle still raging on either side, took you to Orval where you received orders to report to the 60th Field Hospital there while the men from the 12th would return to the Evacuation Hospital you’d been stationed with since before June 1944. You had been informed your personal effects would arrive at a ‘later date.’

Nuts, indeed.

You worked in Orval for nearly a week, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, wearing the same clothing day-in, day-out, until the 60th was relieved and pulled back to Mourmelon-le-Grand. As promised, your belongings were waiting for you there, in the iron grip of a dour-faced Chief Nurse MacDonald who was only too happy to put a ‘reckless, insubordinate’ Nurse like you in her place at the 123rd Station Hospital.

What followed was a grueling month of scrubbing and refitting the near derelict buildings abandoned by the Airborne when they were abruptly called to the Ardennes. By the time the place was worthy of being called a hospital, you had managed to become at least friendly with your new colleagues, though they remained suspicious after your filthy and unceremonious arrival.

By mid-February, a tent city began to spring up around the base, heralding the impending arrival of troops from the front. And with them came all manner of cold weather maladies - pneumonia, trench foot, frostbite. Working on the general ward now, you could only eye the surgical nurses with envy, knowing your skills were going to waste emptying bedpans and changing bandages and that you had no one to blame but yourself.

Stubborn in all things, however, you worked without complaint, often being rewarded with more work or the worst assignments because your superiors knew you would complete any task with efficient silence. It was precisely this combination that saw you assigned to the night shift, a small mercy in that the vengeful Chief Nurse would never deign to work such hours, allowing you to develop a new working relationship with Captain Munro, MD.

“Nurse might I borrow you a moment?” He interrupted you as you stepped away from the bedside of a postoperative patient and you quickly nodded, following him off the ward and down the hall to his office. “I’m up to my eyeballs in trench foot but there’s an officer in here, seems he lacerated his hand helping one of his men climb out a transport - quite stubborn. Whether or not it needs sutures I am confident you can determine…” he exhaled, clearly exhausted from working a double shift as he came to a stop outside the door. “Is it alright if I leave this one in your capable hands? You’ll find everything you need in the cabinet.” He looked at you pleadingly, eyes underscored by dark bags of fatigue as he held out the chart and you nodded quickly.

“Certainly sir, please don’t worry about a thing.” You smiled softly at the relieved slump of his shoulders before he nodded firmly in thanks, dashing off down the hall to no doubt deal with another man’s beleaguered feet.

You glanced over the chart of Captain Ronald Speirs quickly before knocking on the door, giving the man some warning, before you stepped inside. You tilted your head to see the Captain with his back turned to you, halfway back into the worn jacket of his ODs, appearing quite prepared to leave.

“Just a moment please, Captain Speirs, I would like to take a look at your hand, sir.” You said softly, eyes widening as the man turned around swiftly, arms still slightly akimbo, to reveal the very same Lieutenant whom you’d bandaged that morning in Bastogne. Who’d saved your life, and watched you take out a sniper with barely a comment.

His eyes were fatigued, his hair grown long. He clearly hadn’t seen a razor in quite some time and yet you were struggling to recall a moment when you’d found a man so attractive in your entire life. You suddenly felt acutely self conscious in your white and brown seer sucker hospital dress with brown cotton stockings and cardigan to match, nursing cap pinned in your hair.

“It’s nothing ma’am, I’m fine.” He repeated himself word for word and you bit the inside of your cheek, having a hard time deciphering if he was joking or just built that obstinately. You did not miss, however, the slight rasp in the back of his throat.

“Good, let’s keep it that way, shall we Captain?”

You gestured for him to sit in the chair he’d surely recently vacated and carefully took the one across the corner of the desk from him, holding out your hand expectantly. As he set the back of his left hand in yours, you frowned at the laceration along the side of his palm. Captain Munro had been right, it really was borderline in need of suturing.

Laying his hand on the desk gently you stepped over to the cabinet to collect the necessary supplies, deciding to play it safe. You could suture quickly enough - the man clearly needed to get some rest and you did not want to keep him from it. While swiping his palm clean with an iodine wipe you glanced at him as he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t think you were assigned here.” He commented quietly.

You shook your head ruefully as you unpacked a tube of pre-threaded sutures with a curved needle. “I wasn’t until very recently. I used to be assigned to the 12th Evacuation Hospital but after my…behavior it was deemed necessary to reassign me.”

“I said nothing, I swear.” He replied quickly, brow furrowing and you could not help the smile that pulled at your lips.

“I believe you, Captain. Heaven knows where I’d be if you had.” Gently positioning his hand on the desk top, you smoothly rotated the curved needle through first one edge of his cut and then the other, looping the length of it around your forceps twice before pulling the end through to create a square knot.

You repeated two more casts before snipping the ends of the suture, looking to him sharply as he let out a rattling cough. “How long have you had that cough, Captain?”

“Few days…” he replied evasively and you hummed disapprovingly.

“If it doesn’t go away in a couple of days, you should come back and see me.” You spoke as you began the next stitch.

“And if it does get better?” He asked quietly, watching your careful work.

“I’ll be here all the same.” You replied, pressing your lips together as you fought another smile at the thrill that unfurled in your stomach.

“Whom should I ask for?” His voice came out particularly gravelly and he cleared his throat forcefully.

It was your turn to look startled as you suddenly came to realize you had yet to introduce yourself. You quickly shared your name before shaking your head in shame. “You must think me some wild animal, Captain, please forgive me.” You muttered and tied off the fourth and final stitch.

He nodded at you, eyes taking on a glossy quality that had you growing more concerned by the moment. You set down your tools and raised a hand to brush the backs of your fingers against his forehead, heart clenching as his eyes fluttered closed. Those infernal eyelashes dusting against his cheeks. His skin felt a normal temperature but another ragged cough wracked his frame and you clenched your jaw.

“I’d like to listen to your lungs, Captain.” You muttered and stepped over to the cabinet once more to grab the stethoscope you’d seen there.

He blinked up at you as he began to undo his wool shirt. “It’s Ron.” He corrected you and another smile escaped you before you managed to smother it, hands cupping the bell of the stethoscope to warm it.

“Thank you, Ron.” You said softly, inserting the tips into your ears before stepping closer to press the stethoscope against his upper left chest. “Deep breath in for me?”

You listened carefully to each quadrant of his lungs, pleased there was no crackling or anything else abnormal. Satisfied it was most likely just a cold, you looped the stethoscope around your neck as you stepped back.

“Everything seems alright, promise me you’ll get some rest and keep warm?” You asked gently, doing your best not to allow your eyes to linger on the way his undershirt clung to his lithe frame. You did take a selfish moment to appreciate how well his wound from Bastogne had healed, however.

“Promise.” He nodded, doing up his shirt more slowly this time, courtesy of the stitches in his palm. “Remind me when I get to see you again?”

You bit your lip slightly and took a breath. “If the cough doesn’t improve, a couple of days. To get your stitches out, a couple of weeks. Please keep them clean and dry until tomorrow night at least.”

“Got it.” He nodded and straightened his OD jacket, pulling on a worn scarf from the back of the chair before standing slowly.

“But for now straight to bed.” You opened the door, watching over him feeling wildly and inexplicably overprotective.

“Thank you.” He looked to you drowsily and you nodded, seeing him out then turning back to clean up and complete his chart before rushing back to your actual duties that night.

One week passed, and then another. There was no visit from Captain Speirs. You did your utmost to convince yourself it was for the best, that it meant he was healthy. That he’d had his stitches removed by a nurse on the day shift at his convenience. Word came that his entire Division would receive a Presidential Unit Citation and Ike himself would be coming to visit to deliver it on Roosevelt’s behalf.

You were promptly informed by Chief Nurse MacDonald that your presence during the ceremony was not welcome, but if you wanted to observe the Divisional dress rehearsal a few days before, on your own time of course, she would not stop you.

Breaking out your dress uniform for the first time in months, you obstinately got ready just after the end of your shift that morning and strode your way over to the parade ground with a few of the girls on the evening shift who were certainly better rested than you. More than a few off duty nurses from the five other hospitals in Mourmelon had found their way onto the grounds to take a peek at the men in their finery and you could only imagine that number would be many times higher on the fifteenth when Ike himself was there.

The weather was thankfully cooperative as you huddled together near a collection of trees watching the men of the 101st file past. The contrast between their neatly pressed uniforms with mirror shined boots and the battered but not beaten men you’d encountered in Bastogne was truly striking. Each and every one of them truly deserved the honor that was about to be bestowed upon them.

Once everyone was satisfied that the ceremony would proceed without a hitch, the men were dismissed and you turned to head back to your tent to catch what sleep you could before your shift that night. Smothering a yawn behind your hand, the group of women you were walking with all came to a halt when a familiar voice called ‘Nurse!’ All of you almost seemed to turn back as one.

If six pairs of inquisitive female eyes intimidated Captain Speirs he did not let it show. He quickly clarified with your name, the other nurses filing away murmuring amongst themselves disappointedly.

“Good morning, Captain.” You nodded to him as he came to stand in front of you, sliding his helmet from his head to tuck it under his arm.

“Good morning.” He replied, eyes skimming over your uniform curiously.

You noted he’d found the time to visit a barber, his hair neatly trimmed and styled, though you rather missed the tousled waves he’d first arrived with.

“You are sounding well, Captain. I’m glad to hear it.” You smiled softly. “Did your hand mend nicely?”

He lifted it for your inspection and you looked to him startled to see the stitches still in place.

“Captain, these sutures were ready to be removed days ago.” You chided him softly as you cradled his hand in yours.

“I was told you were unavailable.” He replied quietly and you looked to his face quizzically before it dawned on you that he must have returned to the hospital during another shift and simply left when he learned you weren’t there.

“My apologies, I work nights. Any nurse can take care of these, they must itch something fierce.” You frowned.

“What time does your shift begin tonight?” He asked, seemingly happy to leave his hand at your mercy for as long as you chose to hold it.

“2100.” You replied, noting the disappointment that pinched at the bridge of his nose. “But I could meet you there at 2015 if it means getting this taken care of.”

He nodded firmly. “2015, then. Thank you.” He eyed you a moment as you tried in vain to fight back another yawn. “What time does your shift end?”

“0900. I should get back to get some rest. Just wanted to sneak a peek at the big show. You boys will do great when Ike’s in town.” You nodded warmly.

“You won’t be here?” He tilted his head curiously and you let out a scoff of self deprecation.

“Reckless, insubordinate nurses like me aren’t to be seen by the Supreme Allied Commander.”

A furrow appeared between his brows, the muscle of his jaw ticking slightly before he exhaled. “I wish they would stop punishing you for your bravery.”

Your eyebrows shot up beneath the brim of your service cap. You had been trying your damnedest to not let it bother you, especially after hearing the men of the 12th Hospital you’d gone in with had all received the Silver Cross. To hear him speak in your defense was quite honestly overwhelming.

After a careful glance around the nearly empty parade ground confirmed the remaining individuals were otherwise occupied, you leaned in to quickly press your lips to his freshly shaved cheek, thumb swiping away any trace of your lipstick.

“Thank you, Ron.” You swallowed tightly as the heat of his gaze was as palpable as a caress on the skin of your face. “I will see you later to remove your stitches.” Squeezing his hand gently you released it to hang at his side.

His silent nod was the only response you received before you turned to make your way back to your tent for some much needed rest, though your mind would have much rather focused on the way the sunlight lit his eyes than to let you sleep.

Arriving at the hospital that night at 2000 you tracked down Captain Munro and secured his permission to borrow his office once more in the name of treating the stubborn Captain Speirs. Setting out suture scissors and tweezers on a tray upon the desk, you hurried out front to meet the Captain lest he was misinformed about your availability again.

“Good Evening.” He nodded as you stepped outside, hugging your cardigan close against the chill of the night.

“Evening, Captain, please follow me.” You smiled and led him through the maze of hallways before holding open the door to the prepared office.

He assumed the same seat as before and, closing the door behind you, you sat opposite, looking over his palm as he set it in your waiting hand.

“You’ve done a very good job keeping it clean for me, Captain, thank you.” You smiled and picked up the curved scissors, the edge that pressed against the skin not at all sharp. “I’ll cut the stitches first and then pull them out with the tweezers, alright?”

He nodded, watching you closely as you snipped your way through the silk strands very carefully.

“They call me ‘killer’ you know…” he spoke apropos of nothing and you slowly raised your eyes, feeling as though you were joining an internal conversation well in progress.

Rumors spread through camp faster than that bone rattling cough he’d arrived with - you’d heard your fair share of things about him. Particularly after your tent mates had learned that he’d spoken to you earlier that day on the parade ground.

“Sure he’s pretty and all but after the things he did to those Nazi prisoners…” Betty from Indiana had insisted with a dramatic shudder.

“And his own Sergeant!” Philomena of New York had chimed in with an emphatic nod.

All of it struck you as hollow and vapid, coming from two wide-eyed girls fresh from Stateside who’d only ever known war stationed in hospitals with roofs and walls. Never been fired on, never had an enemy soldier try and take the life of a patient right out from under them.

“Well, Ron,” you replied thoughtfully as you set the scissors onto the waiting tray, “they could easily say the same thing about me. It just so happens I had a very honorable man at my side when my anger got the best of me.”

His eyes seized yours, pinning you to the spot with your hand hovering just above the set of tweezers as you forgot how to breathe. His lips tentatively began to form words several times before he abandoned his attempts to speak and lunged forward to close the space between you, his lips slotting against yours in reply instead.

Inhaling sharply through your nose in surprise, you found yourself quickly leaning into his kiss, fingers threading into his shorter hair as you tilted your head to press your lips more firmly to his. Sliding his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you close, tongue delving into your mouth greedily. A soft whimper escaped your throat only to be swallowed by his devouring mouth as he tasted you thoroughly.

Appearing discontent with the separation between your bodies, his hands shifted to grip your hips, guiding you onto his lap before his fingers began to pluck at the buttons of your cardigan. Rucking up the skirt of your dress and slip beneath, you settled over his hips, shuddering as the hard bulge of his length nestled tightly against your core.

“We don’t have a lot of time” you panted against his lips as his hands brushed aside your open cardigan to tug at the tie of your wrap dress, revealing your cream coloured slip beneath.

“Understood.” He murmured as he pulled back to drink you in, eyes taking on that glossy quality from back in February that’d had you so convinced he was febrile.

“Ron…” you urged gently, your own hands sliding between your bodies to work at the fastenings of his dress trousers.

Lost in some sort of trance he leaned forward to press his lips against the hollow of your throat before he secured the ball chain of your ID tags between his teeth and pulled them out from beneath the v-neck of your slip. Brushing his lips against the flat metal stamped with your name and serial number, preceded by the letter N, your heart lurched beneath your ribs fondly as it forgot its normal rhythm for a few beats.

The feel of his fingertips undoing the fastenings of your stockings from your garter straps refocused you and you quickly worked his fly open, sliding his trousers and boxers down as he did the same with your underwear, depositing them onto the floor.

Shifting higher onto your knees, you pressed your face against his temple as he took his cock into his hand, pressing into your entrance slowly. You whimpered breathily against his hair before dropping your head to the crook of his shoulder to try your best to keep your volume down. Rocking your hips against his with a smothered moan you clenched your thighs to begin working up and down along his length.

Heavy breaths fell from his parted lips, brushing against the skin of your neck, goose flesh erupting in the wake of each exhale. His fingers curled into the flesh of your hips as he helped drive your hips against his.

“Ahn, Ron!” You keened against his jacket, lifting your head to kiss him hungrily.

He rocked his hips up into yours each time your pelvis met his before letting out a frustrated grunt against your lips. “On the desk.” He rasped pleadingly and you nodded quickly, sliding from his lap to shuffle backwards, pushing the tray of instruments further behind you before perching on the edge.

Surging to his feet, he nestled between your legs, tongue sliding along yours as he thrust into your aching warmth once more. You cried out hungrily down his throat as your nails dug into the sleeves of his uniform jacket, clinging to him as he set a deliciously dizzying pace that had your toes curling in your shoes.

A ragged moan rumbled through his chest as his cock twitched within your wet heat and he quickly pulled back, chest heaving. Pushing from the desk, you fell to your knees, ignoring the slight sting as they impacted the floor, to wrap your lips around the leaking tip of his length.

He hissed through clenched teeth, hand coming to rest against the back of your head as you hollowed your cheeks tightly around him. Encircling him in your grasp, you eagerly stared up at his face as you stroked his cock, clenching your thighs together as the corded muscle of his neck flexed with the effort to remain silent as his salty release filled your mouth.

Laving him clean with your tongue, you sat back on your heels, swallowing every last drop as he watched on in stunned silence. Fingers sliding up your thighs to retrieve the first of your garter straps, you shivered a little as you remained highly sensitive, having been so close yourself, but also very much aware of the lack of time. You rose to your feet, about to begin fastening your stockings when his hands were on your waist, guiding you to sit on top of the desk once again.

“You didn’t…” He exhaled through flared nostrils and shook his head sharply. “Unacceptable.” Was all the warning he afforded you before he crouched down to seal his lips around your throbbing clit, two fingers plunging into your trembling warmth.

“Holy…” you barely managed to cover your mouth with your palm, hips bucking violently toward him.

He hummed against you approvingly as you lay back onto the worn wooden surface, writhing as fingers picked up the thread of your pleasure, winding it tighter and tighter as his mouth felt like it was sucking your very soul from you. Every muscle in your body became taught with exquisite tension until, at last, like the blowing of a fuse your release detonated behind your clenched eyelids.

Relaxing into the desk top with languid ease, you ran your fingers through his hair in tender appreciation. “Really…have no time now…” you murmured breathlessly and he pressed his damp lips to your inner thigh before pulling you up to a seated position and began to help you re-dress.

Any time his lips were vaguely within the vincinty of yours, you unhelpfully insisted on kissing him softly, significantly hindering progress, but eventually the pair of you were mostly presentable. He cupped your cheek with his left hand and your eyes shot wide at the rasp of sutures against your skin.

“Ron!” You gasped, grabbing his wrist and groping behind you for the tweezers before setting about carefully trying to remove them.

It was his turn to be a nuisance as he nuzzled his face into the soft skin of your neck, sighing gently, making you giggle under your breath as his eyelashes tickled your flesh.

“You are a wild animal.” His voice held a dreamlike quality, lips brushing against your throat as he spoke.

You honestly would have swatted him if his tone weren’t so reverent, doing your best to focus on removing the last two sutures.

“A lioness - fierce and strong and brave and gorgeous.” He rambled before brushing a line of feather-light kisses up towards your jaw.

It made your heart ache with the longing to linger with this verbose version of him that had somehow been unleashed, but according to the clock above the door, you had to be on duty in two minutes.

“Ronald Speirs, you sweet talker.” You whispered weakly, setting down the tweezers, your task finally managed. “I hope you sleep well.”

“You know I will, thanks to you.” His eyes met yours warmly before he cupped your cheeks, pulling you in for one last searing kiss. “May I…write to you?” He asked, incongruously hesitant after all that had transpired.

Sliding your arms around his neck, you kissed his forehead. “You’d better. This lioness has claws.” You smirked in a playfully threatening manner, earning a broad grin in response.

————————————-

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky

Post-script: Firstly, I agonized for several hours about whether or not to have Ron be married in this. Ultimately, after reading that Ronald Speirs asked his first wife not be mentioned in any way in the miniseries I decided to do the same here. Secondly, while I used a fake name for the Major who flew into Bastogne by glider, this is all based on real events that took place! I decided to use fictional characters here to justify the radical actions I had them take in bringing the reader, but you the story of Major Soutter and the men of the 12th Evacuation Hospital is really quite something!

[thinking-emoji]

Photo-spoiler free PEOPLE article

wonderful article by the amazing Raven Brunner, but it unfortunately includes extremely cute photos of dnp on stage and in their stage outfits. So here's the spoiler free version for all you hardcore spoiler-fighters

Dan Howell and Phil Lester Say Seeing Fans on Tour Now That They're 'Older and Bit Gayer' Has Felt 'Radical and Freeing' (Exclusive)

Dan Howell and Phil Lester are currently one month into the North American leg of their tour Terrible Influence and PEOPLE has an exclusive first look

By Raven Brunner | Published on November 1, 2024 11:00AM EDT

Dan Howell and Phil Lester are cruising through the United States! 

The two British YouTubers are currently one month into the North American leg of their third joint tour Terrible Influence – and PEOPLE has an exclusive first look.

The duo will continue with stops in Chicago, Toronto, New York City, Nashville and more, before bringing their show to Australia in December. 

"Being able to see our audience in real life, now that we're all older ... and we're a bit gayer, feels so radical and freeing," Dan and Phil said in a statement shared with PEOPLE. "We've had so many people joke [that] this tour has felt 'healing' and to see people from all different walks of life feel like they are welcome at our tour makes us so happy."

They added, "Getting to perform a new show that contains so many spicy personal and professional revelations is a thrill. It's truly a DGAF new era and to see people hollering at some of the controversial moments and shedding a tear at the end makes it feel so good every night."

When it comes to traveling the states, the two continued, "The U.S.A. is so huge, we can't believe driving across the middle takes so long. From Texas and the midwest to the upcoming east coast leg - our propaganda is spreading across the nation and we're so happy to be here saving democracy, one brainwashed viewer at a time."

The show sees Dan and Phil on tour together for the first time since their 2018 hiatus from their shared YouTube channel DanandPhilGAMES, during which they both came out as gay and grew their personal brands. During this time, Dan wrote the #1 New York Times bestselling mental health book You Will Get Through This Night and embarked on a solo comedy tour We’re All Doomed, while Phil continued to grow his own YouTube channel AmazingPhil. 

In an exclusive interview with PEOPLE ahead of their arrival in the U.S., the two – who have been on YouTube together for over 15 years – spoke about the reactions to their first few shows as they began their tour in September with a stop in Belgium.

"We have had so many funny memes and reactions to it," Phil, 37, told us at the time. "Seeing the buzz on social media the first night we did the show, because no one knew anything about it or what it was going to be, was just a reminder of how hilarious our audience is.”

Dan, 33, added that the show is helping people come to terms with their past and also their future. 

"It has also been amazing seeing all the different kinds of people that come to the show because we have had people that are like, 'I’m old now and identify as a real person' – not someone that spends all their time on YouTube," he said. "All these people have grown up and gone on so many different journeys in the direction of their lives, and yet it feels like they all got to come together and feel like they were welcomed."

Dan continued, "They all got to laugh and feel like they could have some weight taken off their shoulders for who we were, for who they used to be [and] for how scared they should feel about the future. The fact that everyone’s left feeling invigorated about themselves for what the next chapters of their lives could be, I think we are really proud of that."

The new territory of the show also poses new "danger," as Dan said.

Phil has experienced two accidents while working on the show, the first of which occurred during a rehearsal and resulted in a broken rib. Then he fell off the stage during a tour stop in Sweden, after which he wrote on social media, "people think ‘phil is going to fall off the stage’ is an old joke until i actually fall off the stage."

"We joke about this,” Dan explained. “People are like, 'Dan and Phil need to stop exaggerating.' But you don’t even know the extent to which we don’t tell people half the stuff Phil has done."

"I need to be wrapped in bubble wrap at all times," Phil agreed, before adding, "To be fair, it is very dark on the stage. I thought I was leaning over the edge. There was no edge. I did a very stylish barrel roll off the front of the stage and thankfully it wasn’t very high."

He continued, "But the rib was another thing. I won't say much because it'd be a spoiler, but we were rehearsing a very active part of the show and I bent myself in a way I should not have bent myself."

Beyond the challenging physical aspects of the show, Dan noted that the specific scene also includes an emotional element where they are "jokingly being quite confrontational about a lot of things that would have, in the past, been considered sensitive topics – whether it is about us and our audience, or just like people on social media and what this culture is."

As for what the duo enjoys most about touring the United States, Dan quickly noted that "Phil is looking forward to sugar."

"Yeah, I have a sugar issue,” Phil confirmed. "Everything in the U.S. has more sugar in it. So that’s always quite exciting. The pancake stack I am going to get as soon as I arrive in America is going to be legendary."

Dan added, “You’ll find that’s essential. If someone wants a free selfie with Phil, just turn up to the local IHOP at 2 a.m. and see Phil just going, 'More maple syrup.'"

The two shared a story from their 2018 tour Interactive Introverts where their bus broke down "in the middle of Texas" and the only place nearby was a Denny’s. "So we ended up going there having a Breakfast Slam at like 3 a.m. I was like, 'I think I get American culture,' " Dan explained.

"This is it. The Slam,' " Phil added.

Meanwhile, Dan is most looking forward to "bus life."

"A lot of people go, ‘Touring! Don’t you just hate it? Imagine being on a bus cramped up with all those people?' And I’m like, 'I love it.' Get me out of the house," Dan shared. "We are not meant to just be spending all day in our head, being anxious about stuff. We are meant to go outside. And I found that the only way I can do that is to book a tour and commit to dragging myself outside of the house.'

Following their return to YouTube and their joint brand, Dan said that they are living "in this radical present where we are just seeing how things go." However, they are still aware of the demand for them to take on more big projects, particularly in relation to their former jobs as presenters on BBC Radio 1 where they hosted a weekly radio show and interviewed A-list celebrities like Taylor Swift and Fall Out Boy at special events.

"Yeah, that was really fun," Phil recalled. "I think there was a lot of anxiety for me doing the radio because you have to press a lot of buttons, you are live – so I can say anything. Anyone knows that me, unfiltered and live, is a dangerous mix, especially when you are the BBC."

Dan added, "People keep asking us. They are like 'Dan and Phil, we need you to get back doing these presenting jobs. You want to come back? Do the radio, do this award show.' We are like, 'Oh, my! Maybe we’ll do it for the people.' "

He continued to note that people are also "begging" him to return to his solo YouTube channel, but for now, they are focused on the tour. 

"This Dan and Phil comeback was so lowkey," Dan said. "Literally we had no plan for it. Phil was like, 'Just sit down, play The Sims, play a little card game,' and it is the most light, casual content ever. People were so enthusiastic about it and now they are like, 'What is the future?' People are begging us to do radio, they want us to do a podcast, they want us to do all this other stuff that their favorite YouTubers are doing. So now, we are like, 'Okay, we hear you, Dan and Phil 2.0 when we get back from this tour.' Honestly, it sounds like a threat."

"Yeah," Phil agreed. "What is it going to be? We are not sure but we are excited about it."

Tickets for Terrible Influence are now on sale.

[wilwheaton]

organizers for Right by You have told Variety that they are no longer “allowed” to distribute the contraceptives at concerts. According to three sources at the organization, the decision came from Rodrigo’s team, which decided against passing out the resources at the concerts because “children are present.” Prior to this decision, booths were going to be set up to distribute the items at all of Rodrigo’s North American tour stops.

Olivia Rodrigo Won’t Be Handing Out Any More Free Contraception

This is a cowardly and deeply disappointing decision by her team, and profoundly off brand for her. Bad move for so many reasons.