#well except once in canada

[skateisawesome]

i promise myself that one day i will see it snow.

[flemingsfreckles]

Be a Good Teammate

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader

Words: 3.4k

Preview: After Jessie misses her penalty in the Gold Cup semi final, she’s found practicing kicks by her old friend and college teammate.

Warnings: some cursing, a little angst, but nothing else too crazy.

A/N: I haven’t written anything in maybe 4-5 years. Recently fallen back into reading and then watching the Canada/US game sparked some inspiration and here we are writing again.

You could hear her before you saw her. You had come out of the dressing room well after the rest of your teammates. They hardly showered just throwing on fresh clothes in a rush to begin their celebration for moving on to the finals of the Gold Cup. The stadium had fallen silent with the exception of a faint noise coming from the far end of the tunnel toward the pitch.

It was the repetitive sound of a ball being kicked followed shortly by the swish of the net. One after the next, boot on ball, swish of the net, boot on ball swish of the net. Working like a clock, a perfect machine, that was until the sound of the net was replaced by the ringing of the crossbar and the frustration of the kicker.

“Stupid fucking penalty” a frustrated voice rang out. The sound of the voice halted your steps, you knew that voice. Jessie. You quickly recognize the voice as your former best friend and UCLA teammate. Once you hear her, you quickly realized what was happening.

You’d seen her do this when you played together, anything from missed headers, missed passes, missed shots, and now with missed penalties. Jessie was known for being a hard worker, her focus and determination was admirable by her teammates and led her to earning the right to wear the captain's armband. She pushed herself to be better and while it was that mentality that turned her into one of Canada’s best, it also came with a whole other side.

She was hard on herself, more so than anyone else, and she took it to extremes. You had watched in college as she would spend hours watching film of her mistakes, tearing her performances apart, nitpicking every step she took. Criticizing every mistake to the point of obsession. One bad touch or one missed scoring opportunity would cloud her brain, unable to focus on anything else until she could fix that mistake, that mistake was all that would matter to Jessie.

“Be a good teammate to yourself Jessie.” Those were the words you told her constantly in college when you’d find her overworking herself. Running extra laps after an already grueling practice. Taking extra shots after a game, refusing to stop the repetitions until they were in her eyes, perfect. “Treat yourself how you treat all your other teammates, you support us, you provide positive corrections, you're kind. Talk to yourself the same way you talk with me or anyone else on this team, be a good teammate to yourself.”

And that’s how you knew exactly what Jessie was doing out on that field. She was retaking her penalty from earlier in the game, the one she had kicked into the arms of your team’s goalkeeper, letting you and your teammates erupt in celebration behind her as she walked with her head down to her team’s bench.

Now you are stuck with your brain telling you to let her be, she’s not going to want to see you, especially on a night like tonight. Just go celebrate with your teammates, you thought.

You and Jessie had been close in college, so close most of your teammates were convinced you two were secretly dating. And to be fair to them, you wish you’d made a move on Jessie but you didn’t. Too worried about losing your friend and still trying to figure out yourself in the process. Now your college days were years behind you and you both moved away after graduation to play professionally, her with Chelsea and now in Portland and you with Bayren Munich and more recently with Seattle.

Your communication with your former best friend had rapidly declined over the years, you both got caught up in your new lives, new clubs, and Jessie had gotten a girlfriend. It wasn’t public information at the time but you were close enough that she shared the news, gushing about the girl over one of your nightly phone call. You knew deep down that girl is what pushed you away. Even though you knew it was never going to work out between you and Jessie, it didn’t make hearing about her new girl any less painful.

So you pulled back, with going from long facetime calls, to short catch ups, to texts. It seemed mutual as Jessie followed suit reaching out less frequently. She figured you were busy and had forgotten about her, seeing you make new friends in your new teams. These days you were lucky if you saw a “nice game” “congrats on the win” or even “happy birthday” come across your phone from the Canadian.

No bad blood stood between you two that she was aware of, except for maybe right now as you stood wearing the crest of the team that had just ended her tournament hopes.

While your brain was telling you to head for the parking lot and leave, forgetting you heard her taking the shots, your heart refused to let your feet move in any direction but toward the pitch. As you turned the corner she came into view. The bright white 17 with FLEMING printed neatly across the back of her red jersey became visible as you watched her set up her next round of shots.

Now you were frozen again, standing just inside the edge of the pitch, only your eyes moving, watching as she placed a ball, moved backward, took a deep breath and took the shot. It sailed into the upper left of the net. You watched as Jessie once again stepped back to ready herself, having already placed the next ball while you were watching her first one go in the net. Again she took a breath and fired into the net. She continued just as you had heard her before, booting the ball into the net. Over and over and over.

The stadium that had previously been filled with fans shouting, coaches calling out, music, liveliness was now eerily silent, just the sound of Jessie methodical work taking place. You weren’t even sure how long you had been standing there watching her, you’d maybe seen her take 10 or 12 shots, all screaming into the back of the net. The systematic movement and sound had lulled you into zoning out, only snapped back into reality when you realized the noise had stopped.

Jessie was moving toward the goal, collecting all the balls she had kicked, only now you could hear her mumbling to herself. Unable to make out what she was saying, you watched as she continued moving all the balls back to start her drill once again. She had turned around, her face more visible to you, eyes still down looking at the balls she was kicking. You could see her cheeks were still bright red and her skin was shiny with sweat, or maybe it was rain. Her mumbling had turned into her regular voice, allowing you to make out every couple of words.

“idiot…if I just made it… don’t deserve this…” You watched her rip the captain's armband from her bicep, throwing it aside.

You felt your chest grow tight, seeing and hearing Jessie so angry at herself was painful. She was the kindest soul, she had been your first friend at school and one of the only ones who stuck around through all 4 years. the only thing she didn’t deserve is to feel this way about her performance.

Maybe i should leave, you thought, let her work through this, she’ll be okay with some time, how much can you really help at this point, it’s over, there’s no point in making her more upset and,

“FUCK” Jessie’s voice intrudes into your thoughts as she punts the last ball with such anger that instead of landing just outside the box like the rest, she sends it sailing, landing only a couple of feet from you. You look at the ball rolling toward your feet, being slowed greatly by the wet grass.

“Sorry,” Jessie hollers with a wave and a different, more polite tone in her voice. She begins jogging over to you, “I didn’t realize they were coming to do pitch maintenance already, I’ll pack up and go-“ she starts to ramble as you realize she hasn’t noticed that it’s you who is standing in front of her.

You move your eyes down at the grass, kicking some up unsure of what to do now while you wait for her to reach you and realize you’re in fact not the maintenance crew.

“What are you doing here?” Her accusatory tone returns and you look up to meet her eyes. Just as you’d seen from across the field her cheeks remained bright red, a layer of sweat making her whole face shine. Her lips are slightly parted and her breathing is quick. Her brown eyes that you used to stare at everyday are now puffy, as though she shed some tears following the game and you can’t help but stare for a second at her black eye. She cocks her head at you and you realize she’s waiting for an answer.

“Um, I just… I heard you. And I just wanted to check on you,” you realize you should’ve spent some of the time you were watching her kick thinking of what to say to her.

“I don’t need your pity party,” Jessie scoffs at you “don’t you have some celebrating to do?”

“I’m not here to pity you,” her change in tone makes you get defensive.

“Then what? You’re here to tell me it’s okay? That it’s fine it’s just a penalty, and maybe it feels that way to you,” she stabs her index finger into your chest, her touch surprises you. Both being midfielders you had contact during the game but that was different.

Before you were just the opponent in the same way she was yours, you were aware of her but in that moment she was just Jessie Fleming, a Canada’s midfielder who you needed to get the ball from. Now she was Jess, the girl you were roommates with, the girl whose shoulder you fell asleep on during a long travel day, the girl who you tutored in calculus while she in return tutored you in physics. Her whole face now just inches from yours. You share a similar height with the midfielder, leaving you eye to eye. You can feel her breath as she continues.

“You made your penalty, and you don’t have to wear the armband, you don’t have to sit with the expectation of never missing a penalty, but I do. And you didn’t let your whole team down, I did. So maybe it seems like not a big deal to you because you’re not the one going home!”

You feel like sinking into one of the puddles on the grass, this was a bad idea, you shouldn’t have bothered her. Before you can think of something to say Jessie starts again.

“Nothing? You have nothing to say to me? Then again, why did you come out here? To gloat? Because last time I checked, we’re not even friends anymore and that’s no fault of mine, that was all you, you ignored me, so why even bother? Just leave me alone, go away.”

Her words telling you that she doesn’t even consider you a friend anymore, sting. Sure it was nowhere near like it was before but you still would classify Jessie as a friend. You have every urge to tell her the truth, that you couldn’t stand seeing her with someone else and to protect yourself you took a step back. You wanted to tell her you never meant for it to silence your relationship, you just wanted to respect hers and that meant distancing yourself. Instead, you opted with the easy way out, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” her brown eyes roll as she turns away from you.

“Jess, wait,” the short form of her name falling out of your mouth on accident. Hoping she’ll stay, you reach out grabbing her wrist preventing her from turning all the way away from you.

“I promise I didn’t come here to give you pity, honestly I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” You feel her shake your grasp from her wrist but instead of leaving she turns back facing you. “I just, I heard you and, I,” You try looking into her eyes but she’s staring at her hands that are fidgeting with the hem of her jersey.

“You already said that.” Jessie cuts you off

“I know, I know, I just,” you bring your hands up to cover your eyes rubbing your fingers along your forehead, hoping you’ll be able to squeeze the right words out of your brain. “I think I wanted to see you.” You admit finally, hoping it’s not too much at the moment.

“We just played 120 minutes against each other, you had plenty of chances to see me.” She throws back at you, her brown eyes still avoiding yours.

You begin to feel a tightness in your throat, a feeling all too familiar to you, making it harder to breathe, you start blinking away the tears that are trying to surface. You’re grateful she isn’t looking at your face. you recognize the same emotions that you felt when she had told you she was in a relationship.

Jessie had been so excited to tell you, and you tried your best to act excited for her, you really did. You had forced yourself to ask questions you really didn’t want to know the answers to. Asking about their first date, first kiss, other firsts, what Jessie liked about her, providing the typical best friend interrogation. What Jessie didn’t know was when she had hung up the phone, telling you she had to go as she was going to spend the night at her girlfriend’s, the tightness had taken over and you burst into tears.

In the moment it didn’t make sense to you, you summed it up to missing her and missing spending time with her. It took a couple months to realize your feelings were ones of jealousy. You wanted to be the girl she spent her nights with. You wanted Jessie to call up Janine and gush about you, not some other girl. And that’s when you started to pull away.

“That’s not the same, I, I just wanted to see you,” you let out a shaky breath, trying to relax before tears spill over, “I miss you.” The words come out as a whisper, almost quiet enough that you hope Jessie didn’t hear and you can move on.

A silence falls between the two of you, Jessie’s fingers are still playing with the hem of her shirt, her eyes glued to them. You look up, staring at what would be a starry night had it not been for the rain clouds covering the sky. It feels like time stops, neither of you moving, no one says anything. You stand there, looking up, while Jessie stands, looking down.

“Why now?” Jessie’s voice cracks, you can’t tell for a second if she’s looking for an answer but she continues on, “You could’ve called, or at least texted.”

“It takes you 3 to 5 business days to respond to a text.” A small laugh comes out as you say the sentence, hoping it’ll lighten the mood.

“I know, but for you,” she pauses slightly, “I would’ve answered in a heartbeat.”

Her words catch you off guard and you swing your head down. You unexpectedly meet Jessie's eyes. She’s got one hand running through her damp hair, the other resting by her side. Her stare feels intense, being under her watch gives you a feeling that sits somewhere between comfort and cowardice.

You’re lost for words, racking your brain for the right thing to say. Part of you says fuck it, tell her you love her, that you want her in every way, tell her you were jealous, you couldn’t stand seeing her with another girl, you want her to be yours and only yours.

The other and far more logical part of you says push it down, you don’t want to scare her off, you want your friend back, even if it means hearing about her girlfriend.

You’re saved from having to make a choice between the angel and devil that split your brain as your phone buzzed and a slew of texts from Lynn and Midge came in. You quickly grab your phone from your sweatpant pocket, turning the ringer off to silence the tone from going off again. You quickly skim the texts which consist of variations of ‘where are you’. You catch the time at the top of your screen realizing the game had ended nearly 2 hours ago. Sure, you had done some media, showered, and changed, but you hadn’t realized how late it was and just how long you had been standing around either watching or talking with Jessie.

“You should probably join them.” Jessie says, almost as if she could see your texts from your teammates asking when you were going to be at the bar.

“Yeah I probably should, I didn’t realize the time. The last thing I need is them sending a search party and finding me with the enemy.” You nudge her with your elbow. She gives you a quick tight lipped smile.

“I’ll uh, I’ll see you around?” You add in a raise in your voice in hopes she takes that as an invitation.

“I don’t know,” Jessie pauses, eyebrows creasing as she thinks of what to say next. “It’s just, I’m dealing with a lot right now, moving, captain responsibilities, some personal things. I just don’t know if I can add another thing on my plate right now. Maybe give me some time?” Her response isn’t the one you wanted, but you realize it’s better than a complete shutdown on her end. At least some small part of her was open to letting you back in.

“Of course, I understand the moving countries part, I mean. The rest of your stuff I don’t know about, I mean the personal stuff, and then the captain part.” You find yourself rambling at her. “But yeah that’s fine. I’ll be going.” You point your thumb in the direction of the tunnel.

She turns away, this time you let her walk away. You watch her for a moment before turning yourself and heading back to the tunnel toward your car. Just when you reach the start of the tunnel you hear it again. The sound of Jessie’s boot kicking the ball and the sound of the ball hitting the net. You turn around watching as she grabs another ball between her hands, rolls it around and then bends down to place it.

“Hey Fleming,” you call to her as she releases the ball on the ground and starts to map out her steps. You watch as she turns back over her shoulder locking eyes with you, raising her eyebrows nonverbally acknowledging your call, “Be a good teammate to yourself.”

You carry on to the parking lot, picking up your phone and calling Lynn to let her know you were leaving the stadium now. While you were too distracted on the phone, what you didn’t realize was the absence of the sound of Jessie kicking the ball.

Your words had caught her off guard, she hadn’t heard it in a few years, you last said it to her after she had a rough game at Chelsea. The simple phrase brought back feelings surrounding you that she had pushed down for a while now. She stood, staring at the ball she had just placed, taking a deep breath like she did before every penalty. Only this time, instead of stepping toward the ball with force, she simple walked toward it, picked it up and headed to grab the bag and clean up. She realized she had punished herself enough, the loss still hurt, but with your words and the smile on your face as you said it fresh in her mind, it hurt a little less.

[twilightkitkat]

Ok so if technically there are 2 Logans alive in the timeline rn (which doesn't make sense thank you Marvel)

How do you think they would interact if they met each other

Assuming that Logan is still alive and just in Mexico or Canada hiding out, I think it'd be interesting as hell if he heard about a Wolverine dupe. Because he definitely didn't live in the city and judging from the rumors, they wore a yellow suit and had his signature tufted hair. ...Which he was very much not sporting right now.

Deadpool's Timeline is before the Westchester Incident so Charles isn't yet classified as a weapon of mass destruction, even if the government is definitely wary of him. Therefore, Logan could justify leaving for a bit to investigate these rumors (if just for old times' sake and for an excuse to check up on the X-men).

He expects them to be, like most things, incredibly fake.

Except when he does some digging... they don't seem to be entirely fabricated? One guy even showed him the scars from claw marks that looked identical to his own, but Logan knew damn well he wasn't in the area at the time. Much less infiltrating a drug ring.

He snoops around and hears rumors that this new Wolverine sticks close to Deadpool. That's... an interesting name. It's vaguely familiar, and something in him recognizes it, but he can't quite place where he heard it.

But the way people react to the name "Deadpool" is telling enough. Even people who are entrenched in the underground look around warily, as if afraid to give out too much information. People are hesitant to speak, fearful of the idea of him alone.

But Logan's nothing if not persistent. He settles down in a seedy bar where he knows shady business happens and listens. If this guy was as big of a deal as people act, he should pick something up.

Soon enough, the name pops up.

"I'm thinking of hiring Deadpool for this job, actually," some sleazy rich guy remarks as he leans back in his chair. Logan's senses lock onto the conversation immediately.

"Really? Isn't that a little excessive? You know how expensive he is these days," his companion replies.

"But there's a reason he's in demand. It's a two-for-one deal these days, you know," another person at the table adds.

"Exactly," the guy nods, "Deadpool is already a force to be reckoned with on his own, but with Wolverine? They're unstoppable."

"I once saw them fight," someone nearby pipes up, "it was terrifying."

"Deadpool alone is terrifying. Did you hear what happened to Francis?" someone murmurs.

By the end of the night, Logan has a rough idea of what he's working with. Deadpool seems to be a mercenary who's well-known for getting the job done for the right price, no matter how gruesome it is. He's also someone you'd hate to cross and who would stop at nothing to get revenge, which apparently became known after he killed some bigshot named Francis.

Deadpool was definitely... interesting, to say the least (it isn't often that a mercenary is feared more than major organization leaders) but it wasn't what he came for. No, the real piece of information was that his copycat seemed to hang around Deadpool. The two were inseparable, they'd said.

"The Wolverine" apparently showed up out of the blue one day and has been trailing after Deadpool ever since. The two seemed to be partners of sorts, and Wolverine never made any appearances in battles where Deadpool wasn't present. Rumors seem to be that Deadpool hired him or that he owed Deadpool a great debt, although some people who've encountered them whisper that they might be something much deeper. Lovers, almost.

Logan snorted. What was the point of someone dressing like him if all they were gonna do was run around with a mercenary helping on missions? No evil scheme, no grand imitation, and the guy didn't even make public appearances. Maybe he was just a fanboy or some shit.

Although he wasn't as wary anymore, something in him still felt the need to investigate further. And luckily, he knew who was going to hire Deadpool next and the job he was gonna give. All he had to do was intercept.

And so he did.

He turned into the alleyway to see some guy in a red suit and... himself?

It wasn't just a realistic copy. It was an honest-to-god clone. He smelled like him, looked like him, moved like him. He had adamantium claws like him and the exact same build. Except this guy actually fucking shaved from time to time and still kept his hair up.

"Ohhh, looks like we have a visitor, Wolvie," Deadpool chirped.

Wolverine shook his head, "Damn it, I told you he was gonna drop by to check on the rumors eventually. It's what I would've done."

"...Who are you?" Logan asked warily, tensing up.

"I'm Deadpool, as you probably already know, and this is you! Well, you from another universe. Say hi!" the man in red dramatically gestured to Wolverine, who grumbled in irritation.

"From another universe?" Logan crossed his arms.

"Yeah, bub. Believe it or not, I don't care. But we're not here to cause trouble, I'm just stuck with this lunatic here so there's two of us right now." Wolverine insulted him, but let Deadpool lean over to wrap an arm around his shoulder, whining about how he chose to stay here so he was stuck by choice.

It was... a lot to take in. Logan didn't really know how to feel about it. It was odd seeing another version of him so close to someone. He forgot what it felt like, to be like that with people. Hell, even when Scott and Jean were alive, he wasn't like that. He fucked off most of the time and they were happy to ignore him until something serious happened.

It was also odd to see another, apparently older, version of him look... so much younger. Well, younger wasn't the right word, but energized? Less depressed? He still had wrinkles on his forehead and a hardness in his eyes, but it was softer. Like he had something to live for and fight for. (Something Logan hadn't in a while.)

Somehow, the other version of him was both more and less jaded. He had a vaguely haunted look on his face when Logan mentioned the X-men, one even Logan himself didn't quite understand the depths of. He'd clearly been through some shit in his original world, maybe even more fucked up than his own trauma.

But it was like someone sanded down those jagged edges. Until they stopped cutting into him every time he sifted through his emotions.

(Logan never had anyone do that for him, not really. Jean cared, vaguely, but she prioritized Scott and was more focused on her own life than Logan's baggage. Charles cared too—he'd taken him in and made sure he had the necessities—but he had so many children that there was only so much attention he could give to a rugged stray. He didn't ever manage to file down his sharp ridges, he just kept cutting himself and hoping one day it'd get easier. That he'd get used to it.)

When he sees the soft look in Wolverine's eyes as he looks at Deadpool, Logan thinks he knows who's responsible.

[pixiesfz]

this isnt really a request with an idea but please more jessie 😭🙏

Killing two birds with one stone I am here, I got a request for a jersey swap fic so here we go!

jersey swap? j.f

plot: you and Jessie have always had on field tension but one game when you ask to swap jerseys, she finally makes a move.

warning: smut, obviously I like writing a dom Jessie 🤫. Let’s pretend Sam wasn’t injured for the Canada vs australia match, bi-sexual reader! (Taking inspo from this one tik tok I saw about Lia Walti which made me cackle)

Some matches were more interesting than others you had realised in your second year in of playing at arsenal wether it was against Chelsea or you were playing with the Matilda’s for your national teams.

Nothing had changed within the games except for the fans, since the World Cup people started to know your name and your whole life story but what they loved most of all was seeing you on the pitch with Jessie.

Wether it was Chelsea vs Arsenal or Australia bs Canada the fans loved watching your interactions and your team mates did to.

It was your Australian captain who always whispered jokes into your ear that took the most pleasure out of the two of you.

“I love Canada” you admitted as your team sat on the ferry “why it’s cold” Hayley shivered from behind you “but it’s just so cozy” you smiled as you cuddled into yourself.

“Is that why your always tackling Jessie, cause she’s cozy” Sam teased as she shook your shoulders “no” you said “I tackle her cause she’s good and she’s too nice to tackle me back” you said with a small smile and Sam and Hayley laughed.

“No but seriously what is it between you two whenever you play” Mary asked as she came over “Oh my little Mary, my young prodigy” you started and she rolled her eyes

“Y/n seriously I want to know, I’m also not that young I’m three years younger than you”

“Exactly you’re an infant”

You smirked but gave her an option to lean onto your should “I’m actually not sure how we started it” you admitted “we both had our debuts for Chelsea and Arsenal on the same day and were put on each other we both wanted to make an impact I guess”

“You made an impact all right, two yellow cards” Sam laughed “You’ve had this tension ever since, even when you were dating that Tom guy” she said.

You hid your head as you looked down remembering why the relationship failed, you couldn’t admit you were not sexually attracted to Jessie and he left, funny since later you had found out he had cheated on you with a girl who had been on 2 episodes of love island.

“Yeah well I’m not dating him anymore so” you trailed off and the three girls nodded “Do you think the tension will ever ease off?” Mary asked and Hayley laughed “I think once they finally sleep together-“

“Hayley!” You scolded her “what?” She shrugged “it’s true, even the fans can see it” she defended herself as you scoffed “do you even remember the World Cup!?” she practically now yelled

“Both of your hands were practically around each other when you were on the ball” she said and you laughed “sorry if I just wanted to get possession of the ball so we could score goals”

“We pass with our feet not our hands y/n/n” Mary said and you closed her mouth “hush little one” you said quickly and she shook her head out of your grasp.

“Admit to me you’re not sexually attracted to Jessie Fleming”

“I’m not attracted to Jessie Fleming”

“Now I thought your New Year’s resolution was to stop lying” Sam stepped in and you threw your head back “No you know what I’m going to be nice” you said

“At the game I’m going to ask to switch jerseys as an act of kindness” you smiled and Hayley rolled her eyes “that’s not what I would do” she warned and you shook your head

“Trust me it will work, we will be best friends by the time you know it”

“So you won’t mark her on the pitch?” Sam asked

“Do you want us to lose Samantha?” you shot back and she laughed “anyways” you said standing up “I see Mini standing alone so I’m gonna make sure Kyra hasn’t accidentally fallen off the ferry and drowned”

You ended up finding the girl in the captains area with a bawl of lollies in her hand.

“Don’t tell Katrina”

When you finally made your way to the stadium later the next day you grimaced at the floor “fake grass” you groaned and Polks laughed at you “not a laughing matter” you said and walked into the rooms.

You felt the stadium grow as Canadian watches and a few lucky Australian fans made their way into their seats.

You were tying up your boots when you felt a presence behind you “hey skipper” you laughed as Sam sat next to you “I just wanna say no reds” she said “I know they’re out for blood since World Cup okay and I don’t want a pissy Jessie coming back to Chelsea”

“No reds got it, what about a yellow?” You asked with a cheeky smile “I’ll allow one” she said and you acted like a two year old who got told they can get ice cream.

You both laughed and Sam pushed you out “cmon idiot”.

In the line up, you were out the front behind Ellie when you felt eyes burning into your head, you knew it was Jessie so when you turned around and saw her you just smirked which made her roll her eyes and look back at her team.

“Cheeky” Hayley said from behind you and you just shrugged your shoulders.

You went to your mark on the field where Jessie was as she looked concentrated “stop frowning Jessie it will give your face lines” you told her and she looked back at you “are you talking from experience or?” She questioned as she looked at your forehead and you laughed.

“Let’s just play for now okay and then you can think about my facial features later”

The game wasn’t different than usual, you and Jessie were on each other hot, whenever one of you had the ball the other was quick to try and get you down or stop you from a long kick.

You were a bit more touchier with the legs though as One time you nut-megged her own ball through her feet “come on” she complained as she was to far behind you to stop your assist to Sam’s goal.

You turned to Jessie “you know I can take a tackle Fleming” you teased and she crossed your head at you “Just play the game y/l/n” she said and you smirked from next to her “I seem to be the only person who is”.

Jessie was rough after that, she knew she couldn’t let you get away with anything else, so next time you had the ball she was quick to kick out from under your ankle as you hit the ground, accidentally taking her down with you, automatically you turned over on top of Jessie and you watched the ref walk over to you and the Canadian.

You looked down at the brunette who was still on the floor “did I get into your head?” You whispered before sitting up and reaching your hand out for Jessie to use but she got up herself causing you to roll your eyes and shrug it off.

The red pulled out a yellow for Jessie who shook her head “Still winning” she reminded you with a smirk and you smirked back “ooh she’s coming out of her shell”.

When the game finally finished and Canada came on top you shook all the players hands, lingering on Jessie’s before you joined some of the girls on a lap.

You saw a sign that made you laugh

Australia vs Canada

Nah.

Fleming vs y/l/n!

You smiled as you looked for Jessie and found her with her captain who was having her send off.

“Fleming!” You called out to her and she turned around with furrowed brows “what?” she asked and you smirked “come look at this” you said and turned your head back.

She followed you to the sign and also chucked a smile at it as people quickly grabbed their phones to take pictures of the two of you smiling at the sign as you laughed at each other.

You saw Hayley looking at you with a knowing look in the corner of your eyes before you remembered “Wait Jess” you said before she left, not realising the nick name you let out “yeah” she said “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to swap Jerseys, last game after all before we face each other off in Olympic hopefully” you asked and Jessie’s cheeks blushed “yeah sure, need some more in my collection honestly”

Your heart raced as you saw the Canadian take off her top, you secretly took a look at her abs as she did so, you don’t know why you waited until she took hers completely off before you took yours off until you hear a whistle from the crowd you laughed and took yours off.

Jessie’s blush grew as she took no shame in staring at your body and your waist.

“Nice tattoo” she muttered as you held your shirt out for her, looking down you looked at your flower tattoo under your sports bra “thanks got it for my mum” you smiled and she gave you hers.

“Ready for the photos” you smirked and she nodded.

When you put them on you heard some fans scream out and you both turned around, you in front of Jessie as she saw her name on your back.

She lingered before stepping next to you and you smiled for some photos before a professional photographer came and you smiled again, one photo where Jessie was looking at you.

You both parted ways after as Jessie kept her eyes on you, pupils diluted as Sam went up to her “good game” she said and Jessie kept her eyes glued onto you and your back.

“She’s staying at the Grand Heir Hotel” she smirked before smacking her Chelsea team mate on the back and walking off with a smile.

You got some shit from the team when you walked in with Jessie’s shirt on, especially from your Arsenal team mates who were whisper shouting.

Sam walked over to you where your cheeks were blushing “I may have told Jessie where your staying” she admitted and you widened your eyes “why?” You asked and she shrugged her shoulders “just cause” she said and walked away.

“Samantha!” You called but she walked away.

You couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face as you turned back to your cubby.

You had showered when you got home and hanged Jessie’s shirt up in the open wardrobe so you could still see it as you lied on your bed.

It was about 10:00 when a knock on your door started. Furrowing your brows you got up and opened it to see a slightly puffed out Jessie Fleming.

“Do you know how hard it was to figure out which room was yours?” She asked out of breath “I’m sorry?” You replied and she nodded “you should be” she said as she made her way in.

“Jessie-“ “call me Jess” she cut you off “what?” You asked and she nodded “I liked it” she said “when you called me Jess”

You smiled “okay Jess” you repeated “what are you doing here?” You asked and she looked around until she found her shirt in your wardrobe and grabbed it and threw it to you “put it back on” she said as she stepped closer to you “excuse me?” You asked and she repeated again.

“Jess I’m in my pajamas I don’t have a bra on” you admitted and she smirked “put it on” she repeated and you grew hot.

fuck she looked hot right now, you thought to yourself as she looked down at you.

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me” she whispered into your ear and you tried not to shudder at her words. “Do it for me” you whispered back as you looked into her hungry eyes, her pupils were dilated and you were sure yours were too.

Jessie gripped the edge of your white T-shirt before grazing her fingers underneath and hitting your bare skin but she kept eye contact.

“I want you to know that I’m going to fuck you, giving me that yellow today and egging me on, I’m not letting that pass today” she said as she grabbed your waist under your top and pulled you closer to her so that your lips were practically touching.

The feeling in between your legs was aching, you needed her.

“Take off my top Fleming” you told her before you stepped back, getting bing her room.

She smirked before grabbing the ends of your shirt and pulling it over your head, looking at your boobs before lightly pressing on them them “you’re beautiful” she said as she kissed on them, leaning your head back you groaned and she tugged on your nipple.

“No noise until my name is on your back” she ordered and you nodded “so loud on the pitch but I can make you silent with just one touch” she cooed and you closed your eyes out of pleasure, trying to not make any noise.

When Jessie pulled your arms up and slipped her jersey over your head you bit your lip and looked down at the jersey.

“Did you know I’d react like this? She taunted as she planted kissed on your neck “Did you know that I’d want to fuck your smirk out of you” she planted more “Did you know that sitting on top of me in the middle of the game would make want to kiss you right then and there” she taunted as she sucked on your skin, marking you.

“Jessie” you muttered out in pleasure as she walked you to the bed and through you on the mattress. You were so wet you didn’t know if she could see it through your grey tracksuit pants or not.

“We’re keeping to top on” she said as she leaned over the op of you and finally brought her lips to yours and kissed you, you let her take dominance of the kiss as her hands roamed your body until they reached your pants.

She looked at you for permission and you nodded “I need your words y/n” she said and you looked at her “yes”

“yes what?” Jessie taunted and you squirmed under her touch as she traveled her hand from your waist and teasingly down your pants without touching your pussy which you craved.

“yes please fuck me with your finger, mouth anything” you groaned out and Jessie smirked.

She returned her lips to yours before she grabbed the edge of your pants and slid them down, her moth following her as she kept them on you, trailing kisses along the jersey and until she hit your undies.

“Lace” she smiled “did you know I was coming?” She asked “I may have gotten a hint” you admitted and Jessie moved her hands up to squeeze your butt as she jerked your body up towards her,

“My favourite colour is blue” she fainted as she played with your blue lace underwear “too bad I have to take them off” she said as she blew on to your pussy and you moaned.

You were pulsing, searching for any friction.

Jessie slowly pulled your underwear down before she spread your legs apart and slid a finger through your folds.

“So wet, just for me” she said before leaning in and pressing her tongue through you, making you throw your head back and your back arch which she responded with putting her hand on your stomach and pushing you down so you couldn’t move.

She kept on going until you started moaning her name “Jessie- Jessie fuck keep going” you whimpered as she shot her head up, her chin covered in your juices.

“Turn around” she ordered and you did and she walked away “Jess” you nurtured and she walked back up to you “I’m not leaving don’t worry” she assured you and pressed her lips into yours as you tasted yourself.

She walked away as you heard her rummage through her bag she brought with her, you smiled to yourself as you saw the glimpse of the strap she held in her hands before stepping into it.

“Who’s name is on your back?” She asked you, her voice darker than usual “yours” you muttered out before she tapped your entrance with her cock “but louder than that baby, who’s name is on your back?” She asked again

“Yours” you moaned out louder and she slapped your ass making you whimper “exactly” she said before pushing in to your entrance.

“Fuck Jessie” you screamed out her name as she grew her paste wuick almost giving you no time to adjust.

“New question” she said as she moaned, the strap rubbing against her clit as she thrusted into you.

“Who’s cock is going to make you cum?” She asked as she somehow went quicker making you moan out in pleasure, your hair was up in a pony tail so she grabbed on to the end of your hair and pulled you back so your face was reaching the roof.

“That wasn’t an answer” she said and you closed your eyes “Yours Jessie, your cock” you whimpered out and she let go of your hair.

“You going to come with me” she demanded and you nodded “make me cum” you whined and she went in Harder and pressed you down more into the mattress.

It wasn’t long until you felt a coil in your stomach “Oh fuck, I’m bout to come” you repeated and you heard Jessie’s whimpers “me too, come with me” she said and you both let out moans as you came together and rides out your highs together.

You both stayed there until Jessie slowly pulled out and slowly rubbed her fingers over her last name on your back.

She then helped you go on your back as she leaned down and kissed you softly.

“Can we do that again?”

[doctorbeth]

Muttsys

Have you ever seen muttsy dogs? I may have talked about some here. Most are a tannish color, about 15" long, with faux suede pawpads. They look like they're reaching their arms up to be hugged when they are young. They're never really plump... they're a skinnier breed. Well, today I thought I'd tell you the story of a Muttsy dog from Canada, with a bonus at the end of a giant Muttsy (the biggest I've seen at least) who went home last week.

First up, Joey the Muttsy from Canada. He was a pretty typical muttsy in size and shape, though no animal is typical in memory or history, and Joey was no exception there. Every animal holds the memories and stories of their person or people.

Here are Joey's diagnosis photos:

As you can see, he had some significant balding on his back and pawpads, a bit of balding in front, and quite a bit of weight loss from stuffing compression due to age and hugs. His person is one of you dear readers, and she was starting to worry about him.

Now given the localization of his balding, some people opt for fur transplants just on bald spots. But Joey's person felt, after 35 years, he deserved a full spa and a full new coat of fur, to make him sturdy and clean and plump and fluffy again. So that was the plan. We scheduled an appointment and he flew down from Canada.

The first step was the spa, so he of course had a bubble bath photo:

I think he kind of looks like he's doing a doggie paddle here. :-)

Once he was dry, it was time to choose his new fur. I wait till after the spa so you can see the fur in comparison to his own fur in a clean and as fluffy as possible condition. There were a couple of options:

His human opted for the slightly darker fur. I went ahead and started restuffing and recovering him. Of course he got a heart preserving a bit of his original stuffing. I like to think the hearts help them hold all the memories:

Now as I mentioned, Muttsy style dogs usually have a faux suede or faux leather (or sometimes real leather) footpad. Joey's surviving footpads showed they weren't real leather original, so these were the options for the soles of Joey's feet:

His person went for the faux suede. Here he is, all better and once more reaching out his arms for hugs:

Joey flew home to Canada, and his person wrote:

He just got home! Looks fantastic, thank you so much for your careful work!

But I did promise a bonus at the end of Joey's story. The largest Muttsy I've ever seen in the hospital.:-) This Muttsy is named Mutsie, and she is 28 inches long, 38" including her tail, which is also stuffed!

You can see her here next to her warm blooded sibling, which gives you an idea of both her size, and the compression of her stuffing and flattening of her fur which were concerning her person:

She was in pretty good shape otherwise, so her person was looking for a spa for her. Here she is starting her bubble bath:

Of course she got a heart with some original stuffing when she got restuffed:

And here she is getting her chubbiness approved: clean, stuffed, fur fluffed but with an open seam to adjust as needed:

Her person said:

Yes she looks perfect! It's so nice to see her all cleaned up and refreshed, thank you so much!

So I closed her up and she flew home to Arizona (in a much bigger box than she arrived in, because she was so much plumper and fluffier!).

[formulawolff]

xvii. facing reality - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.9k

warnings: cursing, age gap relationships, (slight) sexism, unfair treatment of drivers, toto being down bad per usual, mentions of divorce, allegations of infidelity, james being a dick, yadayadayada

a/n: i am aware that it is solely up to the drivers in terms of contract talks, negotiations, etc. however, let's just pretend that we do not see it and that there are some restrictions when it comes to our golden girl. okay? okay cool :p

prev. | next.

the only noise was the dull roar of the engine, and well, the occasional shuffle of papers as he flips through his notebook, careful not to produce much movement in his shoulder.

nestled on his right shoulder was your head, your breathing rhythmic, both arms cuddling his bicep. 

turning his head, his mouth places a kiss on your temple, “i love you, sweet girl.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the ease in which the words flowed from his lips sent a ripple of bliss throughout his chest. the warm, cozy feeling only intensifies tenfold as you wrinkle your nose, nuzzling into the fabric of his button-up. although you’re deep in slumber, you respond, voice thickened with exhaustion.

“i love you, toto.”

“get some rest,” he murmurs, “i’ll wake you when we make it to montreal.”

sometimes the bustling season schedule had its perks. since drivers were not required to fly in with their teams to races, typically everyone flew separately from their respective locations. so, toto had you accompany him on his jet to canada, where the two of you could be alone for just a little while longer.

approximately twelve hours longer, where you would have to go your separate ways once landing. it was arranged that theodore would be driving you to the track, where you would be able to reunite with alex and the rest of the williams crew.

meanwhile, mr. wolff had a few business obligations to attend. one was a meeting with a few potential investors for the 2025 season, while the other obligation was a little more personal.

someone had to recognize your accomplishments over the last few weeks. 

and he was going to be that person.

to add to your bracelet, toto arranged a meeting with a private jeweler where he would pick out four more charms to add to your bracelet. 

one for sazuka. one for miami. one for emilia romagna. and finally, one for monaco. 

the initial plan was to gift you the new charms before qualifying, so that you could have a few more additions to your bracelet. in toto’s mind, he liked to imagine that the bracelet was your good luck charm. 

after all, it seemed to be working. 

with the current driver standings, you were at the top of the board. max was behind you, trailing by a decent amount of points. at his tail was charles leclerc, lando norris in fourth. although your name was a hot topic in the world of formula one, rumors flying that you were the main contender for the title, it was still too early to make any definitive judgments. 

formula one was ever-changing. a single race could shift the leaderboard, as many drivers were close in points. a single weekend could also shift the team standings, as williams was now thrust in the mix for the second or third spot, fighting tooth and nail with red bull, ferrari and mclaren. 

it was all thanks to you. your reflexes, your critical thinking, your ability to remain level-headed under pressure, and your exceptional knowledge of the cars and the sport were the reason why williams was in their position.

it was the sole reason why you were the leader of the pack. sure, the car helped, but a majority of the credit was due to the american driver. 

the first american female driver to ever win points. the first to ever win a grand prix. the first woman to win five consecutive grand prixes.

the only woman to ever win a grand prix. 

you were one of one. 

additionally, you were the second woman in the history of the sport to ever score points, decades after lella lombardi paved the way. 

there was so much at stake, so much weight to be carried on your shoulders. 

yet, here you were, lightly snoring, your lips parted as your brows twitched, lashes fluttering. 

it seemed the closer the two you got, there was always something that tried to pry you further apart. 

hours ago, toto received an email in his inbox from the mercedes public relations team, formally asking the team principal if he could maintain his distance from the williams driver. this was mainly for the sake of the image of the team as a whole. 

to manage this, he needed to refrain from speaking to the driver in either one of the garages, in the paddock, in any area of the track or designated team areas. this was to be during press conferences, and well throughout any public interaction with the driver before, during, or between racing events. 

of course, mercedes supported the decisions he made in his personal life wholeheartedly and wanted nothing but the best for him when it came to his romantic and personal endeavors. however, with the current public perception of his romantic relationship with the williams driver, it was best that he focused solely on the team and their potential accomplishments for the time-being. the team was his top priority for the weekend. 

oh, and the most crucial aspect of the entire email. 

we hope that you abide by our advice and take the necessary precautions. we are hoping for a great weekend in canada!

some fucking email that was.

although there was no formal threat of repercussions, the team principal was not going to take any risks. 

even if it slightly killed him inside to do so.

it appeared that in order to have access to you, toto was going to have to tread carefully. there would have to be thoroughly coordinated meetings, where he would have to sneak away just to even catch a glimpse of your gorgeous face. he would have to slip into your motorhome in the late hours of the night, just as he used to in jeddah, suzuka, and miami. 

however, since that kiss in monaco, things were a little more intense. 

there were eyes now. on both of you. 

eyes that would follow his every move, watching as he departed from the paddock or garage. eyes that were trained by pr teams to ensure that the delicate mercedes reputation remained intact. eyes that were determined to keep the two of you separated, no matter his frustration or protest. 

you were going to be so close, yet so far. 

he would be able to look, but not touch. 

and fuck, was that shit was going to drive him absolutely insane. 

on a similar note, you had gotten the notification from the williams public relation team just as you were boarding the jet. 

although you received the same sort of message within the email, you also happened to get a text from james. 

that one was far more threatening, laced with a sour bitterness that had toto’s blood boiling, his fists tightening on the armrests, knuckles tinged white. 

i do not want to see you look in the direction of the mercedes paddock while we’re in montreal. and if i catch you talking to him between practices or the race…

as much as toto prompted you to get into contact with the human resources department to report the text, you protested. mostly due to the fact that you were already in hot water with williams. despite their reassurances that you were not to face consequences for monaco, there was still that anxiety gnawing away at you, an ever-looming thought in the back of your mind. 

even if you weren’t in trouble for your romantic pursuits, williams had made it very clear that they did not approve of the relationship. 

at least, their public relations department, some members of the board, and james, your team principal, had made it very clear. 

and to you, that was enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

however, there were approximately eleven more hours of the flight before you made it to your destination. 

for the mercedes team principal, that meant he had to savor your presence for eleven more hours before the two of were forced to go your separate ways. 

fuck the mercedes pr team for suggesting those pitiful rules. fuck the williams pr team for reminding you of their disapproval. 

and most importantly, fuck james vowles for speaking to you that way. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“there she is!” 

“hi,” you wave, suppressing a giggle as he waggles his brows, pointing finger guns in your direction.

“how’d it gooo? did you two lay under the starlight and give one another googly eyes until the sun rose over the beautiful mountains of monte carlo?”

alex is peering at you, his gaze honed in as you shrug, “it was fine.” 

he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you guys spent days together and you can’t tell me a single detail?” 

carefully, you scan the room, taking in your surroundings. currently, you were in the williams paddock, situated next to alex in one of the many debrief rooms. james was going to arrive any minute, ben in tow, along with members of the core crew. 

keeping your voice low, you fidget with the sleeves your hoodie, grateful for the traces of citrus and spice that lingered, “james texted me before i boarded my flight here.” 

alex straightens in his seat, leaning forward so that your voice didn’t have to carry, “no shot. what did he say?” 

“he said that he didn’t want me to even look in the direction of the mercedes paddock,” the words are shaky, brimmed with apprehension, “the text had a really off-putting tone to it. toto wanted me to report it but i’m not sure if i should. i’m already in an awkward position with williams and i don’t want to complicate things further.” 

alex’s tongue runs along his lower lip, the driver’s brows scrunched together. there’s concern glittering in his gaze, his fingers resting on his chin. 

“that’s really shitty of james considering i was there at that meeting following monaco. everyone seemed to be in good standing with one another. i remember patrick reminding you over and over again that you weren’t in any sort of trouble. maybe he said that so you could focus on the race this weekend?” 

“probably,” you mutter, slumping into the chair, “it just fucking sucks, you know? all of this back and forth. it’s like having fucking vertigo. one minute i feel like i’m on cloud nine, and the world loves me. james is over the moon, and the crew is hoisting me up into the air. within seconds, everyone is avoiding me. they’re shooting me dirty looks or spreading shit about me on social media. they’ll murmur under their breath that i’m a homewrecker or a slut.”

before you know it, alex has several tissues is his grasp, gently laying them on your thigh. raising your read, you feel the slickness of tears on your heated cheeks, your palms clammy as you wipe them on your sweats.

“i cannot imagine how fucking hard this must be for you.” 

“it is,” your lower lip trembles as you dab the tissue on your lids, “why do you think i flew out to monte carlo? why do you think i’ve been avoiding wantage? ignoring the emails? i just don’t feel like my relationship with williams is genuine anymore. sometimes i regret that race in monaco–”

“hey,” a thumb massages your shoulder, his voice light, “don’t ever feel guilty about that race.”

you shake your head, the words spilling out of gritted teeth, “if i would have let charles overtale me, he would have won. i would have never left that podium. i would have never kissed–”

“everything okay in here?” 

a voice rings through the room, your head swiveling to the doorway.

james enters the room, the williams crew following in suit. using your sleeve, you brush away the tears, exhaling as alex tosses the tissues in the nearest trash bin. he scrunches his nose, nudging you with his knee.

“you’re welcome for that.”

“what would i do without you?” a laugh bubbles up in your throat as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, bringing you in for an affectionate embrace. 

his mouth hovers by your ear, eyes darting to james before shifting back to you, “we can talk more later. i promise. i want to know how you and your pookie bear are doing!”

“okay you two,” james clicks his tongue, “i hate to interrupt gossip hour, but it’s time to discuss racing strategies for the weekend. unfortunately spilling secrets about a certain team principal does not get us anywhere in terms of winning.”

at his snide remark, you feel a twinge of frustration brew in your stomach, churning it into a knot as james’ attention falls on you, his arms folded across his chest, brow arched ever so slightly. 

“can you promise us that you’ll be one hundred percent focused on the race this weekend? one hundred percent dedicated to williams and only williams?”

your jaw clenches, brows knitting together, “isn’t that what i’ve been – yes. i can promise you that.i’ll be dedicated to the team this weekend, just as i’ve always been.”

“good,” james’ expression is unreadable as he tuts, “okay! let’s get started. ben, would you like to begin with the latest upgrades to the cars?”

mirroring the others, you slide the headphones over your ears, ben���s voice drowning in your ears as dives into the subject at hand. 

as much as your mind wanted you to pay attention, to listen closely, you were not present. 

not one bit.

your thoughts were elsewhere, wandering back to that one individual.

toto. 

fuck, did your heart absolutely ache. 

how were you supposed to maintain your distance for an entire weekend if you could barely keep it together after merely hours apart? 

you could sense your knee bouncing, your teeth gnashing into your cheek, chewing away at the flesh. 

fuck, this was going to suck.  

your thumbs itch, urging you to fish your phone out of your pocket. yet, you know that shouldn’t, as there were numerous eyes right along with you in the room. there were a few times in which you did glance at your phone in the past during debriefings, but that was to simply check notifications, pull up footage, or type a quick response to send back to toto. 

if james happened to catch you peeking at your phone? oh god, he would probably treat you like some sort of child and have you sit right next to him. just so that he could observe your every move and ensure that you were honed in on the tasks at hand. fuck, if he was frustrated enough, he would probably snatch that phone right out of your hand, keeping it until you all were finished. 

the treatment you were receiving since monaco was becoming more and more insulting. almost degrading, really. 

sure, you were at the top of the leaderboard. sure, you were one of the best drivers that the team had signed in a years. sure, you were writing history with every record you shattered. 

but when you were involved with the team principal of mercedes, those things didn’t really matter. you were treated like a petulant child, disciplined for something that was beyond your control. 

there was no reason to punish you over the man you were in love with. 

yet, that was just the reality of the situation. 

as harsh as it was, it was probably wise to keep the two of you separated. although the pr teams were working overtime, busting their asses to squash the rumors, to silence those whispers, there were still the ever-looming truths.

one, you were engaging in a romantic relationship with a man thirty years older than you. 

two, toto was recently divorced. that was not a good look for each party involved. it raised the questions of how long the two of you were really talking, how long you had been tiptoeing around. the heated debates if you actually knew about the divorce or if you were a homewrecker.

and of course, the third and final truth.

the mercedes amg petronas was searching to sign their second driver for the 2025 season. toto especially, as he was their main scout, announcing numerous times that he had spoken with a menagerie of drivers, even beyond formula one. 

the hot gossip was that you were to be that second driver. you were the prized pick, a valuable asset to any team on the grid. the apple of toto’s eye. the object of his every desire. the final piece to his puzzle. 

although the entire world was under the impression that they were just speculations, they were blissfully unaware that it was indeed the truth. 

toto was going to approach james after the canadian grand prix with his proposal. 

all he needed was that blessing, the nod of approval to begin the contract talks.

however, there was that one uncertainty. the one thing that both of you were unsure of, waves of anxiety pumping through your veins each time your mind wandered. 

there was that possibility that james could say no. that there would be no contract talks.

even though it ultimately was up to the driver, the fia had made it very clear there were to be no private meetings, nothing left in the dark. especially if you were to depart ways from williams and sign with mercedes. 

so if james said no, you would be fucked. 

majorly, utterly, completely fucked. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @statuewoman @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @msbyjackal @annaaepf1 @paigelouise @bborra @bblouifford @s-awturn @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @gisellesprettylies @wonderwolffs @xxforeverinadayxx @theseerbetweenus @simply-the-best23 @ringdingdingdingx @leilanixx @marknolee @rylieverstappen-sargent @whoisss @ajthefujoshi @m-1234 @ihateyougunthersteiner @nicaeno @racecardilfs

as always, thank you guys for the endless support on this series! let me know if you would like to be tagged! we have about three chapters left! i love you all!! <33

[agaypanic]

Benny weir x gothic!reader (??) She joins the school and the gang think she's a new vampire but she just wears a lot of black... I love a good black cat gf x golden retriever boyfriend. Love your character choices and your writing is just *mwah* chefs kiss <3

A Geek and a Goth (Benny Weir X Gothic!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The gang thinks they have a new vampire on their hands. Benny, thinking you’re hot, volunteers to investigate. 

A/N: watched the last season of WWDITS and omfg i dunno what to do with my life now. This def feels like a real mbav episode plot bc i feel like the boys would be stupid enough to assume that someone dressed in all black must be a vampire instead of just liking dark clothing lol reader is described as having pale-ish skin but it’s bc she wears lighter foundation/concealer, so she can be read as any race/skin tone

***

The gang has had their fair share of dealing with evil vampires, and evil people in general. It makes them cautious of any new person that comes to town. Sure, the new kid at school could be someone who happened to move to Whitechapel with their family. But nine times out of ten, they’re actually someone plotting to take over the world and decided to start at some random town in Ontario, Canada.

You were no exception to the group’s suspicions. 

“Definitely a vampire,” Ethan said as he, Rory, and Benny not so discretely stared at you. “Dark clothes, long layers, pale skin. It’s like she came out of a Dracula movie or something.”

“I’m a vampire, and I don’t dress like that.” Rory countered. “But she does look cool… Maybe I should start dressing like that.” The blonde gasped, ideas coming to mind. “I could get a cape!”

Ethan rolled his eyes at Rory straying from the topic at hand. “Maybe she’s an older vampire. The point is, we should be careful.”

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Benny decided aloud. His friends gave him a wary look. “What? Either she’s just a new kid who could use some friends, or she’s an evil vampire coming to kill us and take over the world. Might as well talk to her and find out.”

Before either of his friends could talk him out of it, Benny strided over to you across the hall. As he made his way, you being an immortal being wasn’t on the forefront of his mind. Instead, it was your appearance. More specifically, how attracted he was to your gothic clothing and somewhat extravagant makeup. One thing was for sure: you definitely stood out in this cookie-cutter town.

You were startled by Benny leaning against the locker next to yours, looking at you with a slight smirk. “Hey.”

“Hi…?” Both confused and curious by his sudden entrance, you gave him a once over before going back to shoving books into your bag.

Benny, clearly surprised that he had made it this far, cleared his throat and straightened up. “So, are you new or something?”

‘Wow, this guy’s a genius,’ you thought sarcastically. Shutting your locker door, you focused on him a bit more. Despite trying to appear suave with his pose and dopey smirk, you could tell he was more of a geeky type with his Star Wars shirt and satchel bag. Not that that was a bad thing. “Yeah.” You finally replied. “Moved here a week or so ago.” You stuck a hand out. “I’m Y/n.”

The boy smiled, grasping your hand and giving it a firm shake. “Benny.” He said. 

“Nice to meet you…” You trailed off, eyes straying to two boys staring intently at you from behind his shoulder. Seeing that you were looking at them, they jumped in surprise and started looking around for something else to focus on. “Benny.” The bell rang, and you let go of his hand. “Well, I should probably head to class.”

He clicked his tongue in slight disappointment and adjusted the strap of his bag. “Yeah, me too… Hey, what class do you have?”

It took you a minute to recall. “Uh, science.” Then you let out a huff. “Gotta go to the building on the other side of campus. And it’s so bright out, that’s gonna suck.” Benny perked up at your distaste. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” He seemed distracted, eyes following your departed form until you rounded the corner. “See you around.”

Whether it was alluring vampire powers or just pure hotness, one thing was for sure. Benny was caught in whatever trap you had knowingly or unknowingly set for him.

***

Weeks had gone by, and Benny still couldn’t determine if you were human or vampire. Despite Ethan’s protests, the young wizard was around you every chance he got. He insisted to his friends that it was to find out the truth about your identity, but it was because he was growing increasingly infatuated with you.

You’ve never hung out outside of school before, but that was about to change. Benny wanted to see you in a different environment, one that could give him answers. From what he’d seen so far, you don’t like the sunlight, you don’t eat anything during lunch at school, you consistently wear long dark clothes, and you still have a pale look to you. He hadn’t seen fangs yet, but he knew from experience with his friends that they were retractable, so he figured that maybe you were better about keeping them out of sight than the other vampires he knew.

“So, have you explored town much?” Benny asked as you walked out of school. You wore your usual attire and some oversized sunglasses, as today was another sunny day. 

“Not really.” You respond, adjusting your bag. “I like being at home more. Not that I don’t like this! This’ll be fun… probably.”

Benny laughed, feeling proud when you let out a chuckle of your own. “Yeah, I was thinking we could get some food and maybe go to some of the shops in town.”

He gauged your reaction to the mention of food. It seemed like you didn’t mind it. “Sounds like fun.”

The walk wasn’t too far or long. Benny noticed that whenever possible, you would go into the shade, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

Eventually, you reached a fast food place that Benny and Ethan frequented. He was a bit surprised that you actually ordered some food, considering he had never seen you eat at lunch. Wanting to be a gentleman, he insisted on paying and letting you choose what booth to sit in.

When you settled into your seats, Benny was suddenly itching to ask you upfront whether you were a vampire. It seemed like a safe setting to do so, for him at least. There were a few people around, so you’d have to at least wait a while to kill him for exposing your identity. And if you weren’t a vampire, he hoped you would have a good sense of humor about the whole thing.

“I have a question.” He asked after taking a bite of his burger. You raised a brow, taking a sip of your drink. “It’s a serious question.”

“Okay…” You racked your brain, wondering what he was about to ask.

Benny looked around, making sure the people around would be out of earshot before leaning a bit closer to you. 

“Are you a vampire?”

There was a giant moment of silence, and Benny felt like he had immensely fucked up. You just stared at him, processing the question.

And then you snorted.

And then you started laughing.

“Funny, Benny.” You said before finally taking a bite of your food. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

You laughed again. “What, is it all the black?”

Benny’s eyes narrowed at you. “You hate sunlight.”

“Correction, I hate direct sunlight. A bit of cloud cover is fine.”

“You never eat at school.”

“School food is gross.”

“You’re pale.”

“Again, hate direct sunlight. Also, this isn’t my actual skin tone.” Benny started to look puzzled. “I usually go a shade or two lighter; it helps with the gothic look. ‘Are you a vampire?’” You imitated his question before laughing again. “You’re such a nerd, Benny. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Wha-” Benny choked out, feeling like he got whiplash. “So, not a vampire…”

“Not a vampire.” You confirmed. “Just a goth.”

***

Benny Weir Taglist: @batmandallyboy @june-julie

[vinelark]

in return for the fic recs i got last month, here are a few fics i read recently that i want to absolutely yell about from the rooftops:

Iron, Fire, Mirror-Glass by PurpleSoot: an early batman days AU where, while slowly healing from a spine-shattering injury, bruce finds an old book about the fae. in a fit of desperation he attempts a Summoning to try to heal his spine. enter: robin.

this story is fantastic—the kind of longfic with a plot so good and satisfying that finishing it leaves you on a reading high for at least a week. one of the best early days bruce fics i’ve ever read, with honorable mentions to excellent alfred and clark and jim and selina characterizations—but robin (dick) really takes the cake here. the balance of chilling, otherworldly, not-quite-human vs. playful, earnest, Still Just a Child…chef’s kiss. the way robin’s character arc drags bruce kicking and screaming through his own emotional growth is so well-paced and well-wrought that i already want to reread just so i can experience it again. this is one of those god-tier longfics that i can’t believe i got to read for free on the internet.

mid-reading testimonial:

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne by @theskeptileptic: a tim-joins-the-family-early fic in which tim decides to do everyone (his parents) a solid by faking his own death and running away to canada, except his weirdo neighbor bruce wayne keeps butting in and messing up his plans.

this is one of the rare stories where tim doesn’t know batman’s identity yet, and even rarer stories where that somehow makes the whole thing even more compelling. this fic has two of my favorite things: small, lonely, moderately unhinged tim drake pov, and really good pangs—pangs that are expertly teased out through flashbacks that add context to the present action at exactly the right moments. also, a very fun cameo near the end. i had a blast reading this one, physically clutched my chest more than once, and am already looking forward to rereading.

mid-reading testimonial (feat. @cairoscene):

equivalent exchange by scribblemetimbers (wip): an au set during tim’s robin days in which tim discovers 1) crossroads demons are a thing and 2) people can make deals with them. deals that include bringing people back from the dead, so long as you’re willing to pay the price with your own life.

this fic is so…🤌‼️ it feels like everything i want in a fic so far, down to two incredibly specific concepts i love (bruce, in his grief, saying something harsh to robin!tim with disastrous consequences later + tim making a big secret sacrifice gambit) which are both done so so well, within a larger plot that is also done so so well. the way this fic cuts in and out of scenes at the exact right moments for max tension feels like a masterclass in causing me to tear my hair out (in the best way), and instead of assorted pangs reading it is just one big Pang. it currently leaves off on an agonizing cliffhanger but, again, in the best way. highly recommend. (thank you again @owlbats for the rec!)

exchange between me and my friend after i sent the link, which about sums it up:

and to cut this angst with some humor:

IRIS Log #1548 by @deadchannelradio: a night on patrol as recorded by the bats’ audio logs, centering around red hood getting flung into a ditch and everyone, eventually, getting home safe.

one of the top ten funniest things i’ve ever read—spiritually up there with send to all (and if you’ve seen my fic rec tag you’ll know what a compliment that is). this makes use of the audio log format SO well. the dialogue shines, the jokes land with excellent timing, and it moves at such a clip that it’s pretty much impossible to stop reading once you’ve started. every character shines in this, and i’ve randomly choked on laughter remembering the phrase ‘good god he got thrown like a corn hole beanbag’ like twenty times in the past few weeks.

mid-reading testimonial:

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 6

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

Warnings for series: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt (but don't worry he's ok) Blood, fluff, flirting, a bit of light smut. Death and killing on missions, Father of reader's death mentioned. Puking.

Authors notes: Should I start a tag list?

MASTERLIST

The rest of the team slowly woke and filtered into the kitchen. Once they were all there Simon addressed them. 

“I’ve decided it’s time to end this little road trip. It’s been hell and I think it’s safe to say we’re all ready for this to be over.” 

“Nah, tis been a stoatin time.” Soap said sarcastically

Simon looked over at him and he just shrugged with a smirk on his face. 

“I’ve changed the next flight for us. Instead of continuing to skip around we’re going to our final destination. Once in country we’ll drive the remainin.” 

“How fars the drive?” Kyle looked at YN 

“About three hours, maybe three and a half.” 

“Flights at 17:00. So be ready for 12:00.” Simon started to get up but Soap spoke up. 

“We get tae know what country at least?” 

Simon thought for a moment and then his eyes narrowed when he saw how intently Gaz and Soap were staring at him. He smirked when he realised what was going on. He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Canada.” 

“Fucking kidding me.” Gaz cursed as he pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills towards Price, Soap doing the same. 

“At least Ghost didn’t cheat us like he coulda.” Soap added and Gaz nodded 

“Someone want to tell me what's going on?” Y/N asked. 

“We’ve had a bet going since you joined the team.” Gaz explained.

“A bet? What kind of bet exactly.” Her voice rising. 

Simon reached over and put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down. 

“Well your file is redacted, and you don’t wear colours, so we all kinda bet on where you were from. Except Simon, now it makes sense because he knew, but at the time he told us he thought it was stupid.” 

“Still think it’s stupid.” Simon rolled his eyes. 

Y/N looked at them and then relaxed a little. 

“What were your guesses?” 

“I said American. You’ve a western accent and thought it was obvious.” Gaz explained.

“Not bad.” 

“I said British.” Soap offered  

“Yeah? Why?” 

“Well of the little that’s in yer file there’s a sniper program held in the UK. Accents easy to overcome.”

“Again, not bad.” 

“So sir, you goin to finally tell us how you knew. You were so confident we were convinced you were cheating.” Gaz asked 

“Didn’t cheat. Just paid attention.” Price said still not having touched the money in front of him. 

“Ye make it sound like she was out there eating hunners of maple syrup and apologising every three seconds.” 

Y/N smiled at Soap. She then glanced at Price, curious how he knew. He made eye contact with her and for the first time in days there wasn’t hostility on either side. 

“Go on then.” She nodded her head. 

“Well you have an accent. It’s faint normally but when you’re drinkin or you’re… particularly sassy it comes out. It’s not super strong, just certain words.”

She blushed and then looked around as if thinking before looking at him and nodding slowly. Price took it as a sign to go on. 

“When you write your reports, you use British English spelling, not American English spelling.” 

“Well that’s no fair, you read her reports, we don’t.” Soap argued. 

“Didn’t say it was fair, did I?” Price glanced at Soap and then looked back at Y/N. 

“You use Kilometres, Kilograms and Centimetres and you measure distance in time. Like you just did when Gaz asked how long the drive would be, you said hours, not distance. You call it a toque, not a beanie. And I knew instantly you weren't British because when you make a cup of tea you leave the tea bag in your cup while you drink it.” He shook his head disaprovingly.

“You don’t!” Gaz cried out with disgust 

“Should be illegal.” Simon added. “Hate when she does that.” 

“Come on lass, even I know that’s wrong” Soap spoke up. 

“What’s happening here?” Y/N shook her head. “You guys keep this up, the next time I make your tea I’m going to put the milk and sugar in before the water. Or heaven forbid, microwave the water” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Ghost snapped, causing John and Soap to laugh. 

“That’s it, I agree with the Captain now, you’re off the team.” Gaz joked but the table went immediately silent. 

“Oh Gaz.” Y/N sighed and then hung her head, knowing what was about to happen. 

“What are you talking about?” Simon’s voice was surprisingly calm. 

Y/N looked over at Price, who was looking at Simon, a look of acceptance on his face. When Gaz didn’t answer him he looked at Y/N who made eye contact with him. 

“Simon…” 

“What the fuck is he talking about Y/N?” 

“Listen, let’s just go get ready for the flight home yeah?” Y/N said softly

Simon stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back with such force it hit the wall behind him. Everyone was on their feet then ready for what was about to happen.  

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked John, his voice rising  

He took a step forward but Y/N stood in front of him with her forearm pressed against his chest. 

“Si, stop.” 

He wasn’t looking at her though he was glaring at Price, breathing heavily. 

“Be a man, own up to what you did.” He pushed against Y/N. 

Price sighed and then looked at Y/N who was silently pleading for him to not say anything.  

“Don’t look at her, look at me.” 

Price’s gaze then landed on Simon. 

“When we were in Germany, I told her I wanted her off the team.” Price admitted and the results were explosive. 

Simon all but shoved Y/N to the side and she had to call out to Soap for help, who jumped over the table to help her restrain Simon. Price just stood there, looking resolved to take whatever Simon was about to do to him and Gaz stood beside him. 

“You think I’m going to stand by and let you kick her off the team? I’ll kill you first before that happens.” Simon yelled. 

“Come on then.” Price grunted back and Y/N looked back at him with anger. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Let em go. Let’s get this over with.” 

His words put venom in Simon’s veins and he shoved Y/N and Soap almost breaking free. 

“Gaz git him outta here.” Soap called out 

“No. Come on.” Price yelled, slamming his fist to his chest. “I deserve this.” 

Y/N momentarily eased up on Simon looking over at John in distress. It was enough for Simon to break free and he lunged at John, tackling him back causing him to hit the wall. John hit Simon on the back with his elbow and Simon punched John in the knee causing his leg to give out. Using this opportunity Simon pulled away from him and punched him in the jaw and John punched Simon in the stomach. 

Soap and Gaz jumped in at that point and pulled them apart, both fighting them to get back at each other. 

“She’s not off the team you fucking prick.” 

“Enough. Y/N yelled. “It’s already done!” 

“No it’s not, he’ll take it back won’t he?” Simon still focused on John

“I wanted to the moment I said it.” John yelled back 

“I signed the papers this morning.” Y/N yelled now standing between the two men. 

Her words instantly caused them to stop fighting and focus on her

“What do you mean you signed the papers? What papers?” John bit at her his adrenalin still pumping. "Sorry, what papers?" He said more calmly.

“I had Laswell send me discharge papers. Keegan brought them and I signed them before he left this morning. I’m going out for bid.” 

“The fuck you are.” Simon snapped 

“Si, it’s over.” 

“It’s not. You can’t just leave.” 

“Look at us!” Y/N motioned around her. “All of this fucking fighting and drama has been going on since we decided to go home. And it’s all because of me and my choices. My choice to keep a secret, my choice for falling in love with my fucking Captain! What the fuck was I thinking?! This has all been a huge fucking distraction. Have you noticed we haven’t even spoken about Bako? Not once! The man we have been chasing for over a year. The man who literally sent us into hiding and we are talking about my feelings! I’ve lost sight of what I’m trained to do, we all have.” 

She looked at her team shaking her head.

“It’s better if I leave. You’ll all be better off. At this point I don’t even think I want to be on a team. I have an offer from Kortac but I think I’m just going to go solo. There is an American company that has been pursuing me for a while that promised me I could do solos and I think I’m just going to take it.”

“You’d just leave me?” Simon asked 

“It’s not about you.” she snapped. “It’s about me, I need to be alone, get my head on straight. Will I miss having you watch my six, of course. But I need this more. I’m just done. With all of it.” 

Y/N signed and then reached up to rub her face, frustrated with everything and everyone. 

“I need air.” She grabbed her jacket before heading out the front door. 

Simon shook Soap off him and then picked up one of the kitchen chairs, throwing at the wall. 

“Fuck you Price. Fuck you for not listenin to her when she said to wait until she could explain things. Fuck you for the things you said to her and fuck you for breaking her. Because that…” Simon pointed at the door Y/N just walked out of “ That’s a broken fucking Y/N.” 

He then stormed off and John put his hands on the table, dropping his head. They heard Simon stomp down the hallway and slam his door.

“Johnny,” John's voice was quiet

Soap stepped forward

“Go after Y/N. If she doesn’t want you there, follow at a distance. Don’t leave her alone.” 

Soap glanced over at Gaz and then left to go after Y/N. 

“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out.” Gaz apologised but John shook his head and then looked up at him.

“It’s ok Gaz, this isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” 

“You ok sir?” 

John rubbed his jaw and nodded. 

“I didn’t mean your jaw sir.” 

“I’m fine Gaz, go get packed up for the flight.” 

Once Gaz was out of the room John picked up one of the knocked over kitchen chairs and sat down. 

He'd thought that letting Simon hit him would make him feel something else besides this overwhelming pain he had been feeling. However hearing Y/N say that she loved him hit him worse than Simon ever could.

He sat and thought about everything Simon and Y/N had said to each other the day of Lasswell's call. He tried to think of what other possible situation it could be besides her and Simon being together. So many what if’s flooded his mind. What stuck with him though was that when Y/N said she loved him, it didn’t bother Simon. He wasn’t hurt or angry with her, hell he didn’t even seem surprised to hear her say it. 

“What have I done?” He whispered to himself 

He should’ve waited to hear her out. He did trust her and knew she wasn’t the person to be cruel and play games. She was the opposite. She was kind, a trait that was a part of the reason why he loved her. So why did he doubt her, especially when she pleaded with him to hear her out?

An hour later he was still sitting at the table when Y/N and Soap returned. Walking in the door they saw John but Y/N turned and went back to her room, not saying anything to him. Soap looked over at John, and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Better get ready Cap, it’s almost time to go.” 

John nodded his head and went to get ready, feeling defeated. 

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

The flight was long, and they all sat solo except Simon and Y/N.  John had a view of them and could see they were having a long intense conversation, but eventually they hugged and she ended up sleeping with her head on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight. 

The three hour drive seemed like torture to John, Y/N was sat in the front seat of the large pick up truck that Laswell had arranged for them and Simon drove. John sat behind Y/N and watched as she stared out the window not saying a word. At times he saw tears rolling down her cheeks and it felt like a stab to the gut. He tried to focus on the landscape outside his window, not being able to handle the guilt he was feeling, but it was mostly just endless snowy farmland and didn’t provide him with any form of distraction. 

Eventually they turned onto a gravel road and Simon reached over and squeezed Y/N’s hand. They were close.  As they peaked a large hill in the distance they could see a farm surrounded by a large wall of hedges. They approached the large gate at the entrance and Simon reached over to a keypad, putting in the numbers that prompted the gate to open. 

John watched Y/N’s shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, something he also did before entering his own home. Letting go of the soldier to become a civilian. 

They parked in front of the house. There was a large window facing the parking pad and John thought he saw someone peer out but then they disappeared. Three big dogs came running towards the truck barking but Simon undid his window and whistled a melody with four notes and the dogs stopped and sat down. 

They all got out, stretching their backs with the occasional groan. Y/N went over to the dogs and was petting them all cooing and telling them what good pups they were. The boys grabbed their bags and started heading for the house. At the door though Simon stopped. 

“We’re going to go in, you’re going to remove your footwear and then follow me. Stay on my six and don’t deviate.” 

“Copy Lt.” Y/N whispered with a shake of her head and a small smile. 

They all did as Simon instructed and after removing their boots, followed as he went down a flight of stairs directly to the right of the door.

As they reached the basement there was a laundry room directly in front of them and then three closed doors on their left. Simon turned towards the doors and then stopped in front of one. Before he opened it though he glanced longingly at one of the other doors. It wasn't until Y/N put her hand on his shoulder did he snap out of whatever thought he was lost in. 

He led them through the door and on the other side was a small cramped hallway that looked like cold storage. At the end of the hall though Simon lifted a panel on the wall to reveal another key pad. He put the number in and a hidden door opened to reveal a staircase. 

They descended again and were once again faced with a series of doors. Simon told them to drop their bags in the hall and they entered the door on the right. 

It was a large room with hardwood floors and sleek white walls with some artwork hung spaciously. It looked incredibly modern compared to what they had seen of the rest of the house. There was a large table in the middle room with eight chairs around it. 

Simon motioned for them to take a seat and walked to the head of the table. Instead of sitting in the chair he pulled it out and Y/N took a seat. They all looked at her expecting her to speak but instead Simon spoke. 

“Ok it’s time we tell you all the truth.”

[jamingbenn]

sidgeno werebear au

on some level i have just never moved on from this tweet. or from evgeni malkin bear [screams]. started off as a sidgeno werebear au where they mentor quinn hughes but actually now the sidgeno origin werebear au is its own beast.

anyways work in progress is this anything

When people think of shifters in the league, they mostly think of the wolves. Which makes sense, given how most of them are wolves, with one or two notable exceptions. Afterall, it is a cold climate sport full of Canadians and Russians. Canada has the world’s largest wolf population, and the bulk of Russian shifters are wolves as well, despite Ovechkin's huge grizzly stealing most of the spotlight. Even the Americans mostly come from the northernmost states, where wolves are predominant.

Zhenya heard Luongo turned into a moose, once. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see.

-

It’s pretty public knowledge that Tanger’s a wolf, because Canadians are both weirdly open and weirdly demure about this stuff. Respectable and nice about it, as apparently all Canadian’s are. Zhenya’s heard enough on ice screaming matches to know otherwise. You don’t have to be fluent in English to know when someone’s insulting your mother, after all.

Most countries largely leave shifting unregulated and undeclared out of respect for shifter’s rights, which is just as well, because shifters broadly have a longstanding fear of governance. Being the casualties of two World Wars would do that to you, but Canada stands as an anomaly. They’re the only country that’s so much more shifter than human, the shifters are comfortable and deeply untrenched in society in ways most other countries aren’t. Zhenya, for example, mostly sticks to designated nature reservations when he wants to run shifted back in Russia. Canadians have those too, but most shifters also feel comfortable enough to roam about freely in their animal form with only dog tags or other identification to distinguish them as off limits to wildlife hunters and prevent any panic in innocent hikers.

In most other parts of the world, a tag like that might as well be a beacon. You still run the chance, however small these days, of a Purist gunning you down specifically for your status.

Still. Canada’s broad attitudes on shifting have largely translated over in the NHL, given that Canadians historically made up a majority of the players. The league doesn’t mandate declaration, but people are generally pretty open about their status. Most Canadians in the league still wear their tags on their chains. Tanger doesn’t even shift that much, but he keeps his dog tags on still, even after decades of being in the states, at this point more out of superstition than necessity.

Zhenya seen it. It’s a simple tag, silver and standard issue, with Tanger’s full government name, his shift form, his shift gender, coloring, and his Canadian shift ID. People get fancier ones, but, Tanger had shrugged. He doesn’t like change. He’s kept the same one since he got registered at 16 in Juniors.

Sidney’s not a wolf — Nova Scotia doesn’t even have wild wolves, and hasn’t for the past like 200 years. “Shifters from my area tend to be aquatic mammals, and we all know that those don’t tend to end very well,” he had shrugged once, early on in their careers, when the topic came up.

Zhenya hadn’t particularly understood. “Mermaids, Zhenya,” Gonch had explained, rubbing one hand over his weary face. “Selkies. Seal shifters. They don’t do well away from water, their furs can be used to keep them hostage, and people fucking think they’re mermaids.”

“Mermaids aren’t real,” Zhenya had pointed out, in what he thought was a smart tone. “Humans can crossbreed with shifters but the kid either is a shifter or isn’t. There’s no half and half.”

“Thank you, Zhenya, I also attended high school biology,” Gonch replied dryly. “No, but selkies shift into seals and then go swimming and supposedly that’s where all the mermaid talk comes from. People trap girl selkies and all of that, preventing them from shifting from one form to another by burning or locking up their furs.”

Gonch looked uncomfortable at the thought of that, but continued on, grimacing. “So selkie numbers are very small. And they’re usually quite protected and private. I think there’s even an exception for them for the Canadian ID identification rules.”

Zhenya was aghast. “Sid. Sid,” he turned back to the original conversation, which has since moved on to Tanger ranting on about cars while everyone else tried really hard to look interested.

“Yeah, G?” Sid answered across the table, smiling where he was nursing his beer.

“If you silkie, I protect,” Zhenya had replied very earnestly, hoping his message was conveyed in his truly horrendous English.

Sidney laughed, a loud honking thing. “Yeah? I bet, buddy.”

“No, no,” Zhenya frowned. They weren’t getting it. “I, bear. I can protect.”

“Woah, Geno, you shift too?” Tanger whipped his back around.

Sidney was staring at Geno now, zoned in, beer forgotten. “Into a bear?”

Zhenya nodded, then shrugged, feeling a little exposed.

“Hey, knock it off, kid’s private about it,” Gonch chimed in. “Don’t give him shit. He’s not like Ovi.”

Zhenya rolled his eyes. Fucking Ovi. The league has just one other bear shifter, but he happens to be the loudest and showiest Russian alive, and now the whole world thinks Russian shifters are mostly bears.

In fact, bears are exceedingly rare. Evolved out of necessity to survive the winter like wolves had, but the lifestyle of a bear is just less compatible with that of a human. Werebears never hit a critical mass like wolves did, and their numbers stayed small. They mostly occur far up north in Eastern Europe, but even as someone from Russia, Ovechkin’s the only other bear shifter Geno’s ever met.

“Russia much more wolves than bear,” Geno complained. “Bear, like, so rare. But yes. I'm big bear, ok, black one, not like Sanya. But I don’t like, in, you know, media.”

Tanger reached out to bump his fist. “Hey, I get it, it can be private. We’re shifter bros now. Doesn’t leave this table.”

“Would you shift sometime?” Flower asked, his eyes gleaming. “So we can see?”

Geno rolled his eyes. He’s a black bear, smaller and more slender than Ovi’s huge Grizzly form, and easier to contain. He doesn’t know how to explain how he shifts all the time for Natalia and Victoria’s delight, so he doesn’t. “If you lucky, bring me berries, I change for you.”

“Raw fish,” Sidney had said, eyelids hooded, considering. “Black bears also like raw fish.”

[laura1633]

Red Bull's strategy team were on it again this race and Max's crew did great to get that car turned around after the damage in qualifying but their next upgrades need to be significant and effective because they shouldn't have to rely on Max pulling miracles each week.

I was looking roughly at the stats and before Miami Max was around 52 points ahead of Lando. Since that time I do believe that Mclaren have had a faster car and Lando could feasibly have won all races (perhaps with the possible exception of Monaco). Instead Max has been able to increase his lead in this time by around 32 points meaning he is now 84 points ahead. This could have gone very differently, if Lando had picked up the victories in Imola, Canada, Spain, Austria and today (all of which was possible victories) then the championship lead could have been negligible.

Max has truly been driving like the absolute champ he is and this run of races (Miami to Silverstone) is, to me, every bit as impressive as his consecutive race wins. He has been increasing his lead when it could and probably should have been reducing race on race.

Max has proven once again how good he is so my stress levels would be very grateful if he could have a car at least as fast as the Mclaren (and Mercedes) going forward.

Thanks for listening to my random thoughts.

*Take those points as estimates because I've not fully driven down into it all. Basically I am just trying to say Max is doing really well and has now been able to pull a significant gap.

[salixsociety]

Juniper | Juniperus Communis

A summary of the magical, medicinal, ecological properties.

Other names: Common Juniper

Distribution: The common Juniper has the largest geographical range of any woody plant, with a complete circumpolar distribution across the temperate Northern Hemisphere. It can be found from the mountains in the arctic, all the way south to thirty degrees latitude in North America, Europe and Asia. Small populations can be found in the Atlas mountains of North Africa. In North America it can be found in all of Canada and Alaska, and much of the Northern US, as well as in smaller populations throughout the US West.

Description: Common Juniper can look an array of different ways depending on where it's found, as the location determines the subspecies. It can range from a creeping shrub to a tall conifer tree, so it's highly recommended to look up which subspecies is/are local to you. Almost all subspecies do have the following in common, though: the leaves are green, needlelike, usually in whorls of three, and feature a white stomatal band through the middle. Juniper is dioecious; male cones are yellow, about 3mm long, and fall in spring. The fruit are cones (often mistaken for and referred to as berries), they show green initially but ripen to a purple black or blue black. They usually consist of three or six fleshy scales, each with one seed.

Ecology: The plant propagates when birds eat the berries and pass the seeds through dropping. It prefers sandy, rocky, or otherwise well-draining soil. It's associated with a variety of conifers, especially pines and firs. It's an especially important food source for birds, but doesn't receive much use from larger wildlife.

Myth and Legend: Juniper doesn't have a particularly strong presence in ancient mythology, which is surprising, considering its widespread nature and uses in medicine. It was thought for a while that Junipers were mentioned on several occasions in the Old Testament, but they mostly proved to be different plants. The only exception is 1 Kings 19:5-18, where the prophet Elijah shelters under a juniper while in hiding. So what's left? There is a small amount of much more local folklore about Juniper. In Germanic and Celtic regions, Juniper had an ancient history as sacred tree, and therefore was though to be unlucky, a fate that many formerly holy trees experience. One was not to plant a Juniper next to another unlucky tree, nor bring Juniper inside, nor chop it down without permission, as it was sure to bring catastrophy to the family. In the Germanic regions Junipers were passively associated with dwarves, as they were sometimes thought to have much knowledge about them. The yellow spores of Juniper, which sometimes travel through the woods in big clouds, were seen as a blessing upon the woods. There's a lot of Christianized Juniper folklore as well. That Christ's cross was made of Juniper (which would have been impossible), that he rose to heaven from atop a Juniper, that the voice of God commanded Christians not to fell Junipers, that Judas hanged himself from one, etc. These are all indications of holy status in the pagan faiths, which translated into the Christian era. Juniper is also sometimes portrayed as a tree of death and resurrection in European fairytales.

Religion: The Juniper plays only a passive symbolic role in Christianity as a tree of protection from persecutors. We can deduce from how the Juniper has persisted throughout time that it was once a sacred tree to the Germanic peoples. We know it was also sacred to Mediterranean pagans, especially the Romans and Hellenics. They would often substitute burning rosemary for burning Juniper for all matters to do with the underworld, death, and cthonic deities, and carve idols out of Juniper wood. It was also used for communication or summoning of monsters. Medea, priestess of Hekate, is said to have used it.

Magical Application: Juniper is quite prickly to the touch, and enjoys a status as spirit/demon-repelling plant for that reason. It is also fairly aromatic, which was also associated with repelling spirits. It is among the most famous protective plants in Europe, because of its many traits that make it so suitable. Juniper hung from doorways and the like was said to repel witches, and enchanting oneself with it would help one recognize them. All in all, a very strong protective and repellant plant, suitable for everything concerning keeping spirits away, and curing curses. It was also used for fertility rituals, especially in the continental Germanic regions. The way in which it was done was not up to snuff in terms of modern ethics (it was used as switch to beat the subject of the spell with, primarily), but it could still lend itself exceptionally well to fertility magic of all kinds. Because the plant is so sacred, it can easily be used to bless things or devote them to your Gods. It was also used in divination at times. Gin and other drinks made with Juniper berries were believed to make one more capable of divination or give prophetic dreams.

Magical Healing and Medicine: Juniper berries are rich in terpenes, volatile oils, tannins, sap and bitter components. It works as a disinfectant and diuretic, the latter function of which is the most crucial in folk medicine. Juniper leaves also harbor fungi which are stronly anti-fungal, which are now FDA approved to treat fungal infections. Much less scientifically, both Native Americans and Europeans have long used Juniper berries as a contraceptive and abortaficent. Since antiquity it has been prescribed to tone the uterus, or, in larger doses, cause "births under the saving Juniper," a euphemism for an intentional miscarriage. As medicine, because it was so magically repellent, it was especially well used to treat illnesses of a magical sort, but it might also be used for your usual remedies against fevers, warts, etc. Transfer magic would likely work well on Juniper trees. Juniper has a long history as healing plant and medicinal herb, definitely worth exploring.

Practical Applications: Juniper wood lends itself very well to carving. The berries are used to make Gin and other Juniper-based drinks, and are used a lot in cuisine. They aren't very good to eat raw, as they are quite bitter, but dried and crushed they are frequently used to improve stews, gamey meat, etc. Do not consume more than the equivalent of about 15 Juniper berries a day, as it could have negative side effects and cause damage to internal organs.

**This is a shortened version of the pages I offer on my ko-fi. You can commission any custom research project, but this is an extremely simplified version of my herbarium page. Please consider commissioning me if you would like to receive a much longer portfolio like this, with a source list, many more images, and much more information! I do custom discounts for repeat customers.

[uboat53]

Well, we're rapidly approaching inauguration day which means Trump is going to be president soon. Given that, it's time to inoculate you against a monumentally stupid perception that I can't believe has hung around for an entire decade.

Donald Trump is not smart. He's not playing 5-dimensional chess, he's not finding new ways to solve old problems, and he's not operating on a level most of us can't comprehend. The next four years are going to be hard enough and Trump's administration will undoubtedly do some genuinely terrible things. It will be terrible enough without having to over-analyze and obsess over every nonsensical utterance the man makes. He's actually extremely simplistic and predictable, just in a way that most people have way to much dignity, integrity, and/or shame to attempt.

This week's sideshow is no exception. For those who missed it, Donald Trump has been threatening to militarily seize Greenland, annex Canada, retake the Panama Canal, and rename the Gulf of Mexico and I've seen far too many breathless articles wondering what the strategic intention of these bombastic threats are. Is he trying to obtain concessions? Is he setting up a strategy that will pay dividends down the road? Is he doing something we can't understand yet? Will he follow through with it?

None of that, guys, it's a lot simpler and stupider.

Look, right now, Trump's having a rough time. Biden is doing popular things that Trump wants to undo but will find hard to undo because, you know, they're popular, his attempt to appoint a bunch of incompetent cronies to major executive branch posts is going poorly and it looks likely that a lot of them won't get confirmed, the Senate is also refusing to go on recess to allow him to recess appoint anyone, the debt ceiling didn't get raised or waived, so now he's got to deal with that pretty much immediately upon taking office, he's being forced to admit that he can't do anything about grocery prices or inflation, you know, the two main things he campaigned on, it's looking pretty likely that Jack Smith's final report is going to get a public release before he takes office and can block it, and Republicans are in complete disarray about how to pass even the border and tax bills they agree on much less anything else.

Not only are those not things he really knows how to deal with, they make him look weak. So he does what he always does when he feels weak, he starts shouting about something batshit insane that he thinks makes him look strong instead. Threatening military invasion is stupid, but it's a strong stupid. Not like failing to address any of the problems in the US economy and government or being revealed as a traitor to the country, those are weak stupid things.

This is what he always does, it's so predictable that I don't even have to actually read what he's shouting about to know he's trying to distract from something. You can do this every time. Remember in September how he accused Harris of having the questions from the debate in advance? Yeah, turns out now that FOX News gave HIM the questions from their town hall in advance. Remember when he went on a tirade about immigrants in November of 2018? Yeah, turns out he was trying to distract from China approving a bunch of trademarks for Ivanka. Every time.

So stop driving yourself crazy wondering what incredibly complex game Trump could be playing and start looking for whatever he's trying to distract you from. You'll always find it and, once you do, you can say "ah, okay" and get on with your day and, when someone bring it up, you can then show off by explaining to them exactly what's going on. Trump's not playing hyperchess, he's trying to distract you from the fact that he's losing a game of tic-tac-toe.

[anarchistka]

Israel’s war on Palestinian territory is an atrocity. And illegal Israeli settlers should be stopped and convoyed back to Israel by Israeli law enforcement. And sure, the creation of Israel itself was a debatable project from the start and mass migration is known to bear potential for violent conflicts.

But the type of pro Palestinian activism I’ve observed (in North America and Europe esp.) rises so many questions:

[some examples that came to my mind I wrote down below, I would be seriously grateful for a detailed informative answer]

- Where should Israelis go?

- How tf is beating up Jewish students and painting graffiti on synagogues in Europe and America going to save any Palestinian civilians?

- Why is Jewish nationalism bad but Arabic nationalism is great?

- Are people who are not native to a land allowed to live there? What does it mean to be native to a land? Does indigenousity expire?

- (directed at European far left) Why should the EU integrate and support every refugee but Jewish refugees to Palestine should be expelled and are treated solely as inherently evil oppressors and their reasons to seek refuge in Palestine/Israel are ridiculed and dismissed? Of course Israel plays the role of an oppressor now but Palestinian fear of population replacement was a cause for unrest in the British Mandate in Palestine. This led to immigration stops for Jews who were fleeing the Holocaust. So at that time a fear that is usually associated with right wing politics cost additional Jewish lives. Why is right wing racial nationalism agreeable when non Europeans are doing it? Why do you oppose Jewish right wing nationalism by supporting Arab right wing nationalism?

- Why do you call Israel a colony? A colony of which country is it supposed to be? Of the US? (Illegal settlements are an exception, they are definitely colonies [of Israel] )

- If Israel, because it is a colony (?), should be eradicated, shouldn’t we also eradicate the USA, Canada, Brazil etc.? Where should the colonisers go? Or has the colonial status of these countries expired? Or were the reasons for the colonisation of these countries somehow more legitimate and righteous than the creation of Israel? Wtf

- Why do you dismiss the great cultural similarities between Europe and the Middle East? Why do you portray Palestinians as the noble but primitive barbarian when the Middle East is a highly developed region that has close cultural ties with Europe (even if often by war)? Besides : Arabs are capable of doing good and doing evil as well as everyone else. Palestinians and Israeli Jews know each other, they can learn each other’s language, they are familiar with the other’s religion, they literally stand on the same cultural foundation, and they use similar weapons and technological devices…

- What should Israel do when Israeli civilians are attacked by militant extremists from Palestine? What would the ideal response be?

- Why are Jews suddenly accepted as being “white” once this identity label has become a disadvantage (according to CSJ conspiracy theories)? Over six million Jews have been killed because they were considered inferior.

- What should an Israeli do to not be considered an evil oppressive genocidal colonist? How can an Israeli meaningfully contribute to a better peaceful future?

- Why is Palestinian violence framed as trauma response and Israeli violence is seen as demonic evil that is inherent to Israeli Jews?

[toaarcan]

Rishi Sunak and the D-Day Disaster

Babes wake up, Rishi Sunak did a fuckup again!

Hokay, so, at time of writing, yesterday was the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings during World War II. This is a big deal for a lot of reasons, D-Day is one of the most significant events in the largest and most destructive war humanity ever fought, and this is likely to be the last major anniversary that the surviving veterans will be alive and well enough to attend.

Political leaders from the world over made their way to the Normandy beaches for a commemoration. Biden, Trudeau, Macron, Scholz, and Zelenskyy were present. Keir Starmer was there, as were King Prince Charles and Prince William, but the UK government proper was represented by Rishi Sunak and David Hameron.

Until suddenly it wasn't!

Let's run down everything (that I'm aware of) that went wrong!

As part of the British event, army paratroopers landed on the beach... and then had to reconvene in a tent to get their credentials checked by the French authorities. Because Brexit happened and we don't have free movement any more! Pro-Brexit nimrods have, predictably, complained about getting exactly what they voted for.

Once each nation's part of the proceedings were done, they were to reconvene at Omaha Beach for an International commemoration. Speeches, medals being awarded, that sort of thing. Except... Rishi Sunak was not present.

No, see, Rishi "The Least Elected PM Ever" Sunak had stayed until the end of the British event and then promptly fucked off back to England, snubbing the leaders of America, France, Canada, Germany, and Ukraine and leaving everything in the hands of the Hameron, his also-unelected foreign secretary that last rubbed shoulders with any International politicians when he was fucking everything up in 2016. Also, in the hands of his main rival, Starmer (Okay calling Starmer and Sunak rivals is a bit unfair, it implies Sunak has a snowball's chance in hell, which he does not).

Naturally, people were pretty fuckin' steamed about this, and put Rishi on blast for showing enormous disrespect to... literally everyone involved. Especially since this is right on the heels of Sunak proposing that they bring back National Service to "fill young British people with loyalty and honour."

Don't worry it gets worse.

Naturally, there are a lot of journalists with cameras present, and this means that we get to see images like these:

Image Description: Left to right, David Cameron, Emmanuel Macron, Olaf Scholz, and Joe Biden, standing in front of a partially cloud blue sky. Macron, Scholz, and Biden are lit by the sun, while Cameron appears to be in the shade.

Image Description: Keir Starmer sits, centrally-framed, among D-Day veterans in ceremonial dress uniforms. To the right of the frame sits Emmanuel Macron.

Image Description: Volodymyr Zelenskyy and Keir Starmer talking, with a photojournalist in the background aiming his camera at them. Both are smiling.

Quote Pippa Crerar, writing for the Guardian (You may remember her from that time she blew the lid off of Partygate!), Starmer is "already looking like a Prime Minister."

So this is really, really bad for Rishi. Britain has been keen to support Ukraine lately, and we've actually shipped a supply of our Challenger 2 tanks over to them for their use. The impact from this hasn't been as massive as you'd hope, largely because the British military has been absolutely gutted under the Tories, for reasons that I'm sure had absolutely nothing to do with all the financial support David Cameron got from Russians, but Britain has been trying to help.

Boris Johnson in particular liked to really stress the Ukraine point whenever he was losing control of the narrative, essentially making Ukraine's plight and his support for them a shield from criticism. And now, here's the leader of the opposition being photographed in a positive light with Zelenskyy. The optics are incredibly bad for Rishi.

But surely, Rishi had a reason why he had to zip back to British soil post haste? Maybe an emergency that he had to resolve?

No, he needed to record an interview with ITV, for his election campaign. That was it.

Well, interviews in election cycles become outdated pretty quickly. Normally a few days is enough to render them outdated. It must've been pretty urgent.

No, the interview is scheduled for release in six days' time.

That's an eternity in election season. There's a high chance that more than half of its content will be void by the time it airs.

As a reminder, we are four weeks from the big day. In fact, yesterday was exactly four weeks before election night. Time is very short.

Well, maybe this was the only time they could fit him in?

Nope, Paul Brand of ITV has confirmed that this was the date and time Rishi wanted, and they could've moved it to prevent scheduling conflicts!

So, how did a fuckup on such a grand magnitude happen? How did Rishi manage to create a clash between the 80th anniversary commemoration of an event with a specific date (6th June, 1944 is not hard to remember, my guy!) and the election that he called? Well that's very simple! He didn't want to be there at all.

Yes, it seems that Rishi had already told the French government a week ago that he wouldn't be attending at all. Someone seems to have convinced him that skipping the event entirely was a bad idea, but not enough for him to actually commit to it.

Image Description: A block of text reading "The French government was told a week ago that Rishi Sunak would not attend the D-Day 80th commemoration, Tory sources have confirmed. The message to Paris from his team was that he would be too busy campaigning in the general election to make the trip. The decision was reversed, and a short visit was the compromise, but it is extraordinary that an attendance by a Conservative PM, or any PM, was ever in doubt."

Rishi has denied this, however, so the whether it's true or Sunak has elected to not lie for once, well, that remains to be seen.

Quote John Healey, Labour's defence spokesperson, “Given that the prime minister has been campaigning on the idea young people should complete a year’s national service, what does it say that he appears to have been unable to complete a single afternoon of it?”

Conservative commentator Tim Montgomery called it "political malpractice."

And so, after thumbing his nose at half the world in order to pursue an already-foundering election campaign, Rishi Sunak decided that he needed to apologise. Via tweet.

It's been a very bad day for Rishi Sunak.

[mariacallous]

For a new world we need new words.

Facing the coming Musk-Trump regime, we will have to be creative. It will not be enough just to rely on the standard terms that come to easily to our lips and pens ("administration," "presidency", and the like). That normalizes the abnormal.

And to repeat unreflectively the words that Musk and Trump and other mumpers use is to take part in the transformation that they bring. Opposition requires clarity and clarity requires concepts. "Mump regime" is one I propose.

As I explained in the last post, "Mump regime," Musk+Trump, keeps the two men who currently matter the most, Elon Musk and Donald Trump, in the proper order.

Musk matters more than Trump. He is the one with the money, the one to whom Trump owes debts. Musk also has a much more lively sense of his own interests and more energy generally. When the two men's ideas clash, as over China in the recent shutdown dispute, Musk gets his way.

"Mump regime" also keeps front and center the basic issue of illness. Democracy is closely connected to health. The historic path to modern political peace and the rule of law led through two stages: vaccines and institutions of public health. Americans have never broke through to a universal health insurance system, and the associated disease, death, fear and poverty is a central problem for our democracy. Now the mumpers and the mumpets are threatening to take away vaccination, which could kill millions of people. One of the diseases it would bring back is, precisely, mumps. Some of the others are far worse.

"Mump regime" is also better, at this point, than "MAGA." That term was always Trump's propaganda, and Trump simply does matter as he once did. So “MAGA” is not only misleading but obsolete.

MAGA stands for "Make America Great Again." "Make" -- no one is going to make anything. "America" -- the people in charge are largely from elsewhere, and America is no mumper's object of concern. "Great" -- small and fractures is more likely. "Again" -- this level of oligarchy is new, as is the fascist language. We have moved on from a politics of eternity, an obsession with an imaginary past, to a politics of catastrophe.

"Mump regime," on the contrary, helps us to confront a real future. We are heading for a situation in which the fracturing of the government is deliberate and the weakness of the society desired. Some people talk of being the change they want to see in the world; the mumpers are the catastrophe their ideology tells them is inevitable.

And "Mump regime" prepares us mentally for the very real possibility that this form of politics can go on without Trump.

Musk himself is obviously completely unconcerned by the results of elections; it means nothing to him that people voted for Trump. Indeed, the fact that he was able to use a meaninglessly small portion of his wealth to get Trump in office can only breed contempt of both the man and his electorate.

Musk's current public humiliation of Trump may very well be part of a plan. Make the man look weak; and then make him look crazy; and then invoke Article 25 of the Constitution and put him to bed. I am not saying that I am sure that this will happen: but rather that it is the kind of thing that would be normal in a Mump regime but would be all but unthinkable in a "presidency" or an "administration."

Trump is a fake rich person, and Musk is the richest person on earth (except, possibly, Putin). Trump is crazy like an improv comedian, but Musk is crazy like a guy with satellites. Musk surely understands, even if Trump does not, that the welter of policies we will see in the first six months of the Mump regime will be contradictory and chaotic.

Where does popular sentiment go when tariffs increase prices, as they must? When Canada and Mexico enforce countermeasures which push prices still higher? And when government spending on deportations (which would, at least as planned, cost about a trillion dollars) also brings inflation?

And that is just one example. Will Americans actually like a defense department and an FBI designed for domestic conflict? If all of this goes crazily wrong, Trump will be to blame. It is at least worth considering the possibility that Musk foresees all this.

At the moment, left-wing commentators laugh that J.D. Vance has disappeared from public view, displaced by Musk. Thinking of a Mump regime helps us to see Vance's absence differently. There cannot be MAGA without Trump, but there can be Mump without Trump. For Musk and for kindred oligarchs, Vance is a more natural ally than Trump. He speaks their language and seems to believe the libertarian-fascist amalgam according to which government itself is doomed and therefor a strong man must rule. Vance was chosen by the oligarchs to be vice-president.

In the two scenarios above -- Musk drives Trump visibly crazy; six months of chaos is blamed on Trump-- Vance would be the successor. Staying in the background for now thus makes perfect sense for Vance. A quiet Vance does not look crazy, and is not tainted by Trump's six months of chaos. He is available when Musk is ready to move on from Trump.

As Musk once tweeted, "we will coup whoever we want." Whoever we want.

We also need a term like "the Mump regime" to classify Republicans. It offers a vocabulary that helps us to sort people out according to their involvement in and fealty towards Musk. The people who are active in the Mump regime are mumpers. The people who go along are mumpets.

But not all Republicans are mumpers, only a select few -- and, indeed, Musk and Trump and Vance lack a traditional Republican background. The mumpers are a select group, like a politburo: a few people, who can brought in and pushed out. Those beyond the small circle of mumpers who support the Mump regime are mumpets, a much broader group.

Plenty of Republicans follow Musk. But these are not the same people, exactly, who would follow Trump. And as we have seen from recent votes on the shutdown, there are Republican elected officials who are not mumpets. Not all Republicans actually want to see Congress rendered obsolete by one-man rule and the United States cease to exist as a republic.

With terms like "Mump regime," "mumpers," and "mumpets" we can parse the present reality and prepare for the future much better than we can with "presidential administration," "Republicans," or "MAGA."

"Mump regime" also gives us adjectives, like "mumpy," "mumpier," or "mumpified." Beyond domestic politics, it can help us towards understanding (topic for another post) the United States as "the sick man of the world" in foreign policy, as we will likely be.

Musk is right that he is bringing something new; what he is not bringing is a tyranny so great that we cannot think for ourselves and name things for ourselves. Indeed, holding tyranny back begins with just that.