#Byron Lane

[lgbtqreads]

Fave Five: Queer Adult Wedding-Related Fiction

Love at First Set by Jennifer Dugan Best Men by Sidney Karger All are Welcome by Liz Parker Big Gay Wedding by Byron Lane D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding by Chencia C. Higgins All links are Bookshop (or, where out of stock there, Amazon) affiliate. Using them to purchase a book earns a small percentage of income for the site (and, if Bookshop, for indie bookstores).

[burningvelvet]

Satirical prints of Lord Byron drawn by artists Robert and George Cruikshank. They depict Byron philandering with women around the time of his and Lady Byron’s scandalous separation in 1816.

That summer (around the time these would have been drawn), Byron rented the Swiss villa where Mary Shelley started writing Frankenstein. She, her partner Percy, and her step-sister Claire, had all followed Byron from England so that Claire could continue her recent affair with Byron. The third drawing shows Byron in the famous Drury Lane Theatre where he was a committee member, which is where Claire first went to meet him and initiate their relationship.

[gemstarb]

Lost Prince & Higher Lane - New Light (BYRON Remix)

[techdriveplay]

The Rise of Australian Whisky

George Bekarian, Head Mixologist at Cardea & Spirit Specialist for Barrel Lane Whisky Club As the head mixologist at Cardea and spirit specialist for Barrel Lane Whisky Club, I’ve witnessed the evolution of Australian whisky firsthand. It’s a journey that spans centuries, shaped by rich history, innovation, and a relentless pursuit of excellence. When we talk about Australian whisky, we can’t…

[pupsmailbox]

NEUTRAL LEANING MASC NAMES ⌇　abner.　 abram.　 adam.　 adrian.　 alex.　 alistair.　 andreas.　 ariel.　 arlen.　 arley.　 arlo.　 ash.　 atlas.　 auden.　 august.　 austin.　 avery.　 bailey.　 baron.　 barrett.　 baylor.　 beauden.　 bee.　 bellamy.　 bennett.　 blair.　 blaise.　 bowen.　 brayden.　 brendan.　 bronson.　 bryce.　 byron.　 caius.　 caleb.　 callahan.　 callan.　 calloway.　 callum.　 camden.　 cameron.　 carlin.　 carson.　 casey.　 cassian.　 chandler.　 chase.　 cody.　 cole.　 connolly.　 corban.　 corwin.　 cyrus.　 dallas.　 damion.　 damon.　 daniel.　 darius.　 davis.　 dawson.　 daylon.　 denver.　 desmond.　 devin.　 doran.　 dorian.　 drew.　 elian.　 elias.　 ellery.　 ellison.　 emery.　 ethan.　 evan.　 ezra.　 fallen.　 farren.　 finley.　 ford.　 foster.　 gabriel.　 gannon.　 garner.　 gavin.　 gentry.　 graham.　 greer.　 griffin.　 guthrie.　 harley.　 harlow.　 hartley.　 hayden.　 henley.　 henry.　 heron.　 hollis.　 hunter.　 ian.　 irving.　 isaiah.　 jace.　 james.　 jameson.　 jared.　 jeremiah.　 joel.　 jonah.　 joran.　 jordan.　 jory.　 josiah.　 jovian.　 jude.　 julian.　 juno.　 justus.　 kalen.　 kamden.　 kay.　 kayden.　 keaton.　 kellan.　 keller.　 kelly.　 kendon.　 kieran.　 kit.　 kylan.　 landry.　 lane.　 lennon.　 leslie.　 levi.　 leyton.　 liam.　 linden.　 lowell.　 luca.　 madden.　 marley.　 marlow.　 marshall.　 martin.　 mason.　 mathias.　 mercer.　 merritt.　 micah.　 miles.　 miller.　 milo.　 morgan.　 morrie.　 morrison.　 nate.　 nevin.　 nick.　 nicky.　 nico.　 nicolas.　 noah.　 noel.　 nolan.　 oren.　 orion.　 owen.　 parker.　 percy.　 perrin.　 peyton.　 pierce.　 porter.　 preston.　 quincy.　 quinn.　 reece.　 reid.　 reign.　 rein.　 remi.　 remington.　 renley.　 riley.　 river.　 robin.　 rollins.　 ronan.　 rory.　 rowan.　 russell.　 ryan.　 rylan.　 sam.　 samuel.　 sawyer.　 saylor.　 seth.　 shiloh.　 soren.　 spencer.　 stellan.　 sterling.　 talon.　 taylor.　 thaddeus.　 thane.　 theo.　 toni.　 tracy.　 tristan.　 tyrus.　 valor.　 warner.　 wells.　 wesley.　 whitten.　 william.　 willis.　 wylie.　

NEUTRAL LEANING FEM NAMES ⌇　abigaël.　 abilene.　 addison.　 adrian.　 ainsley.　 alexis.　 and.　 andrea.　 arden.　 aria.　 ashley.　 aspen.　 aubrey.　 autumn.　 avery.　 avian.　 ayla.　 bailey.　 beryl.　 blair.　 blaire.　 blake.　 briar.　 brooklyn.　 brooks.　 bryce.　 cameron.　 camille.　 casey.　 celeste.　 channing.　 charlie.　 chase.　 collins.　 cordelia.　 courtney.　 daisy.　 dakota.　 dana.　 darby.　 darcy.　 delaney.　 delilah.　 devin.　 dylan.　 eden.　 eisley.　 elia.　 ellerie.　 ellery.　 ellie.　 elliot.　 elliott.　 ellis.　 ellory.　 ember.　 emelin.　 emerson.　 emery.　 evelyn.　 ezra.　 fallon.　 finley.　 fiore.　 florence.　 floris.　 frances.　 greer.　 gwenaël.　 hadley.　 harley.　 harper.　 haven.　 hayden.　 heike.　 hollis.　 hunter.　 ivy.　 jade.　 jamie.　 jocelyn.　 jordan.　 jude.　 juno.　 kelly.　 kelsey.　 kendall.　 kennedy.　 koda.　 kyrie.　 lacey.　 lane.　 leighton.　 lennon.　 lennox.　 lesley.　 leslie.　 lilian.　 lindsay.　 loden.　 logan.　 lou.　 lyric.　 madison.　 mallory.　 marinell.　 marley.　 mckenzie.　 melody.　 mercede.　 meredith.　 mio.　 misha.　 monroe.　 montana.　 morgan.　 nico.　 nova.　 oakley.　 olympia.　 owen.　 page.　 palmer.　 parker.　 pat.　 paulie.　 perri.　 petyon.　 peyton.　 phoenix.　 piper.　 priscilla.　 quinn.　 raven.　 ray.　 reagan.　 reece.　 reese.　 remi.　 remy.　 riley.　 rio.　 river.　 robin.　 rory.　 rosario.　 rowan.　 ryan.　 rylie.　 sacha.　 sage.　 sam.　 sammy.　 santana.　 sasha.　 sawyer.　 saylor.　 severin.　 shannon.　 shelby.　 shiloh.　 skye.　 skylar.　 sloane.　 sol.　 soleil.　 sterling.　 stevie.　 sutton.　 swan.　 swann.　 sydney.　 tatum.　 taylo.　 taylor.　 tracey.　 valentine.　 vanya.　 vivendel.　 vivian.　 vivien.　 wren.　 wynn.　 yael.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + two

authors note: wow! so humbled by people's interest in this one! forgot to mention that i'll be playing around with joe's career, in terms of the timeline and whatnot.

also, if ya'll ever watched the bernie mac show, i was very much inspired in one section by that scene where vanessa and them was doing that car wash at bernie's house lmaooo

in addition (last point, i swear lmao), i can do faceclaims for the character, mainly mariella's family. if ya'll want. i know some people prefer to visualize for themselves. just lmk.

i don't own any lyrics used.

previous chapter

words: 7k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language, fluff, some angst, blink and you'll miss it sexy time.

Spring, 2005

Spring break.

The time looked forward to by most students, especially college students, who are granted a free week to get into all kinds of trouble, mischief and then return to campus like nothing ever happened. 

Joe and Byron can’t deny that they’ve definitely had their fair share of that the first part of college, but now with two years under their belts and only two years left to go, they’re focused on having killer seasons and landing their dreams of going into the NFL.

It’s why when coach decides to give the players a break, canceling all practices during said break, there’s not even an initial question about what they should do with their time.

Home.

They’re going home.

Because while being away is nice at times, there’s absolutely no place like home and being surrounded by the people you love the most.

Byron glances at Joe who’s looking down at his phone. “You gonna see Brianna while we in town?”

Joe looks up. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Brianna, Joe’s last high school girlfriend, was inarguably the easiest of all the girls he’s ever dated. And if not for him not wanting to be tied down while away at college, he would have tried to make it work. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m definitely hitting up Tamia. Heard she and ole’ dude broke up.”

Joe shakes his head. Tamia has been Byron’s on and off girlfriend since freaking middle school. They date, break up, date other people, break up with said other people and start right back over. Truthfully, Joe can see Tamia being the one for Byron considering how long they’ve been in this little cycle. 

“Just make sure you’re safe, man.”

Byron looks like he’s just been told to make sure he wears a seatbelt. “Always, bro. You know me.”

Joe knows him alright. Knows he can be reckless at times. And with so much at stake in the next upcoming two years, they can’t afford to be reckless. 

“I do. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Man….” Joe laughs at Byron’s dismissal. “What do we have here?” Joe turns his attention to where Byron has set his gaze only to quickly scowl with disgust. “Ugh, they in high school.”

Joe is also instantly repulsed. “That’s fucking gross.” 

Byron shakes in his seat, as if trying to shake the disgust off himself when he sees something. “Wait a minute…” Joe again tries to see what’s triggered the exclamation of irritation. “Oh hell no.”

“What are you—what the hell!” Joe shouts out as Byron suddenly swerves into the next turn lane, barely missing hitting a car. “The fuck are you doing, man!”

“That’s Ella out there!” He answers, speeding near the station where a bunch of high school girls are operating a car wash, trying to raise money for who knows what. 

At the mention of Ri, Joe’s attention is snatched. “What?” He’s looking around as Byron looks to quickly park the truck, clearly eager to get out. Joe doesn’t see her just yet. It’s not until they’re parked and out of the car that his eyes land on her.

Her smile is the first thing he notices. She’s laughing. Not surprising. For as long as he’s known her, which has been his whole life essentially, she’s always the one in the group to make everyone laugh.

Usually from her klutziness. 

It’s never a dull moment with Mariella Holmes. 

Moving closer, he can see that it’s definitely Ri, and she’s giggling along with the other girls, dancing to what he recognizes is Black Eyed Peas latest song, “My Humps.”

It’s that realization that helps Joe understand why Byron is so annoyed.

The dancing could be seen as a bit provocative.

“Ella!”

Her head snaps up at Byron’s voice, easily landing on him. Joe watches her mouth drop open in shock before she shouts, “BJ!”

Dropping the soapy rag in the bucket, she’s nearly sprinting over to the two of them, tackling Byron with a hug first. “What are you doing here?”

It’s when she steps back that she moves over to him. She smirks, crossing her arms. “Should have known you wouldn’t turn down a chance to come see me.”

Joe laughs, pulling her in for a hug. “Never.”

“What am I doing here?” Byron cuts in, angrily gesturing to her. “What are you doing out here dressed like this?”

She looks down at her outfit, frowning. Joe does the same. It’s a bathing suit top with jean shorts and flip flops. What’s so bad about that?

And she expresses as such.

“Ummm, the dance team is having a car wash. We’re trying to raise money for travel costs this season.”

This doesn’t seem acceptable to Byron as he asks, “well, you ain’t having nothing else to wear? All exposed and everything.”

That’s when she rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” 

He starts to pull his shirt off when even Joe chimes in, “dude, come on.”

“She’s half naked!”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit, BJ.” Mariella says it like he’s slow. Like he was on the short bus. “I know you’ve been away at school, so you haven’t been around as much, but I have boobs now—”

At that, both Joe and Byron turn up their nose. The last thing they need is that type of visual.

She continues, gesturing to her body. “I hit puberty, and allll the areas started filling out. It happens!”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Byron covers his mouth. “I don’t give a damn. You’re sixteen, not twenty-one.”

She gives a sly smile. “That’s not what my fake ID says.”

Joe catches her gaze, seeing that she’s just messing with him. It makes him laugh. 

“Your what? Girl, you done lost your damn mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, BJ. You know I can’t get a fake ID. My dumbass would feel too bad and turn myself in.”

“That’s true,” Joe chimes, and she glares, reaching over to hit him. She starts to say something, only for her eyes to go wide. “What’s wrong?”

She says nothing, just awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. He starts to ask again when a new voice joins the conversation. 

“Hey, babe.”

Byron jumps to a new level of annoyance. “Babe?” He and Joe watch as some scrawny looking little boy, who’s really not that scrawny in actuality but looks it compared to Byron and Joe, walks up to Mariella, kissing her. 

Byron looks like he’s about to have a stroke. He asks with all the smoke. “Who the hell are you?” 

Scrawny scoffs and has the audacity to throw the question back at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my god.” Mariella murmurs, slapping her hand against her forehead. “BJ, this is my boyfriend, Derrick—”

Mariella having a boyfriend makes sense to Joe. She’s 16 now. Why wouldn’t she be dating? It’s normal and expected. 

If only Byron saw it that way. “Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boy—”

“Derrick, this is my brother, BJ or Byron, and basically like my non-blood brother, Joe.”

Scrawny AKA Derrick looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Oh shit, my bad—”

If only he knew that Byron doesn’t forgive nor does he forget when it comes to his little sisters, especially Mariella. 

He steps toward the shorter young man. “Naw. You bad. You wanted to know who the hell I was, so let me tell you, I’m the nigga that’s gon fuck you up if you ever—”

“Byron!” Mariella is now fuming, grabbing him by his arm as she tugs him in a different direction. “Give us a couple minutes.” She flashes a sweet smile at Derrick and a pleading expression to Joe for him to also be nice.

Joe waits until they’re out of hearing distance. He then slaps Derrick on the arm. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just Byron. He’s always been a hothead.”

Derrick gives a nervous laugh, showing off braces that Joe didn’t notice before. He refrains from frowning. Ri could definitely do better than this dweeb. “You like Ri?”

Derrick shrugs, offering an unimpressive. “She’s alright.”

And that’s all Joe needs to hear to know what this kid is really about. Stepping toward him, he keeps his voice leveled and expression ice cold. “Do anything to hurt her, and you won’t have to worry about Byron.” He gives a steel smile. “I’m the one you’ll never see coming.”

———-

Present 

Post-traumatic amnesia (PTA) 

Or some milder form of it. 

Amnesia, at the very least.

That’s what Dr. Reynolds says is the cause of Mari’s complete loss of memory. A result of the head trauma she received from the accident. A prognosis that somehow feels almost worse than the coma, at least to Joe.

Because for the life of him, he doesn’t know how to look at the woman he’s known his entire life, and have her look back at him like he’s a stranger, like she has no idea who he is. 

Because she doesn’t have any idea who he is.

As devastating as that blow is, he knows it hits harder for her parents. April nearly collapsed in Byron Sr’s arms as Dr. Reynolds informed them of Mari’s memory loss.

She was in tears, desperately asking, “but—but she’ll get them back, right, doctor?”

And Joe only has to glance at the doctor, the way his lips press together before he informs sympathetically, “we don’t know. Some patients do eventually retrieve their memories. Others….others never do.”

Joe can’t even allow himself to think of the latter option. 

A couple days post coma, he knocks on her door, seeing she’s alone, her parents most likely grabbing food or something.

She glances at the door offering a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s insincere, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that either, because one of the things he’s always loved about her has always been her smile. So big and infectious. Just like her personality. 

“Hey.” There’s nothing big and infectious about her almost unsure tone. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for her to welcome him in, just walks in, taking the seat on the side of her bed. “How you feeling?”

She gives a one sided shrug. He notices the cuts and bruising on her face have gone down tremendously. That's a plus in a situation full of minuses. “Don’t know.” After obviously thinking about the question more, she offers a more descriptive answer. “Very...confused.”

“About?” He then adds. “Maybe I can clear it up for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s….it’s mostly about who I am.” He could definitely answer that one for her. She shakes her head, providing an example. “Like, I’m apparently this big singer, but I can’t even think about singing right now. It doesn’t—it doesn’t even feel like me.” She chuckles bitterly. “Not that I know who me is.”

“You love music. Always have. And you’re good at it. Singing. Writing. Producing. Dancing. All of it.” She looks over at him as he says with all the honesty and sincerity, “there’s nothing, creatively, you can’t do.”

Mariella nods, as if taking in the information to analyze later on. “What about you?” She asks. “What do you do?”

A lot of things. A lot of things he now regrets deeply. But, that’s not her question. “Professional wrestler.” He starts to say WWE to see if she knows what that is, but that isn’t important. Shit about him isn’t the priority. 

Mariella looks him over, nodding. “It fits.”

He smiles a bit. The first he’s done in weeks. “What else do you want to know?”

She’s quiet for a few moments before asking the question he didn’t know he was dreading until now. “How did I end up here?”

What a loaded question he was absolutely not prepared for.

There’s a lot of things that led them to where they are right now. A lot of which he blames himself for, and her as well, but not nearly as much as he blames himself. They both played a role in how badly their relationship deteriorated, but Joe puts the bulk of it on himself. 

He’s older and should know better.

But, the specific incident that resulted in her accident, the blowout that ended with her requesting the one thing she always swore she never wanted to have happened when they got married…that’s it.

That is the truth she is probably looking for. It’s a truth, however, he can’t find it in him to tell her.

Because selfishly, he doesn’t want that to be the thing to trigger her memories, or any memories of all the things that have gone so terribly wrong the past two years. He doesn’t want that for her.

Doesn’t want it for them.

It’s why he settles on an answer that’s neither a lie but also not the full truth.

“You had a lot on your mind and went for a drive.” His voice shifts into something quiet. He’s still trying to process his feelings about that part of this whole thing. “You were hit head on by a drunk driver.”

Silence.

For a brief second, he’s unsure if he should have just told the truth. Been honest with her and let the cards fall as they may.

And then she speaks.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks up. Joe sees it. That sense of humor that some could only take in doses, but for him, it’s always been a highlight. She’s always been able to put a smile on his face even in the darkest of his days. “How long have we been married?”

Another unexpected question, but he answers truthfully. “This March makes 11 years.”

“Wow.” This seems to take her by surprise. “And how long have we been together?”

“That….that’s a bit of a long story.”

She lifts her brow, gesturing to her hospital bed. “Not like I have anywhere to be.”

He chuckles. She has a point, but the story of them…that seems too complicated or detailed to share in a freaking hospital. Because in his mind, he’s started to sort the different ways and things he can do to help remind her of who she is. 

Of who they were. 

Finally, he answers, “I just—I think you should—” 

There’s a knock on the door, Joe turning to see April and Byron Sr.

April is the first to speak, walking over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She’s almost hesitant to move too close. Joe can see she wants nothing more to engulf her youngest in a hug but recognizes the same almost uncomfortable expression Mariella wore the minute he walked in.

“It’s okay.” He assures, going to stand up. “I’ll leave you guys—”

“Actually,” Byron Sr. interjects, shooting Joe a sympathetic expression. “We were hoping to speak with you.” He looks toward Mariella, and Joe hates it. Hates the almost discomfort that exists between them. She’s always been super close with her parents. Especially her dad. “If that’s alright, sweetheart?”

Mariella shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Sure.” She starts to lay back in her bed a little. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

Joe wonders how much of that is truth, and how much of it is her just wanting to be alone from people who are virtual strangers.

Strangers…

That’s definitely a word he never thought could be used in any context regarding Mariella.

Once outside the room and in the private waiting area, her parents wait until a set of nurses pass before April is the first to speak. She reaches over and places a comforting hand. “How are you doing, Joe? Really?”

A mess. He’s a fucking mess. Joe has seen much, much better days than the past few weeks. But, he also doesn’t want to make this about him, about his mental state, so he provides a half truth.

“Been better.” His response is gruff as he quickly moves to change topics. “What about you guys?”

Having his wife have no idea who he is is brutal, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it’s been like for two parents to not have their youngest child recognize them, to have no idea who they are.

Byron Sr. is the first to answer, mirroring his son-in-law’s words. “Been better.” 

April shifts in her seat, bringing her hand back to her lap. “We umm—we spoke to Dr. Reynolds earlier today.”

Joe looks up, partially wondering why he wasn’t present for that meeting. “Okay.”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Joe. Not her childhood. Not her family. Not…not even us.” April voice breaks at the end of her statement as Joe looks away. Hearing this again isn’t exactly helpful, though he would never disrespect her parents by asking them to shut up. Even if it’s what he wants. “And we—well, we just think—”

Byron Sr. cuts in, hand on his wife’s knee. “We want to take her back home with us, Joe.” Joe’s stomach drops. “We want to take her back to Florida.”

———-

Spring, 2022

Cameras.

That’s the one thing Mariella, Mari, still struggles to get used to. The bright lights flashing in her face as her photo is taken, whether on the red carpet, on the stage, or even when she’s just making a run to the grocery store. The latter one hasn’t happened as much as it used to, for which she’s grateful, but still.

So there’s a bit of an adjustment as she looks around the room, the hair and makeup team touching up her face once more before they kick off the segment.

She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret it at all. It’s a good look for him. For her too. And beyond any type of benefit for their careers, she’s just happy she gets to see him.

Because that’s the part she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly get over or be okay with.

The distance.

As directed, she walks down the hall, making sure not to look directly into the camera. This is made infinitely easier by pretending she’s shooting a music video. Which, truth be told, it isn’t very different. 

Mari wears the confused expression perfectly, looking down at her phone as if it has information that could help her when she ‘accidentally’ walks into him.

Head up, she gasps and immediately gets to apologizing, just as was in the script. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

His eyes widen as he ‘realizes’ who she is. “Wow. No, you are absolutely fine. Wow. You’re Mari!”

Smiling, she points at him, “and you are…..”

He seems a bit taken back at first, like he’s waiting for her to also recognize him. When that doesn’t happen, he offers his hand. “Sami Zayn. Master strategist and locker room leader.”

She nods, perfectly conveying another confused look at just what that means. “Does—does that mean you’re good with directions? Cause I suck at them.”

“It absolutely does, and you are in luck, because I just so happen to be free right now and would love to give you a tour.”

She opens her mouth to protest, “oh, that’s so sweet, but I really should—” she looks down at her phone. “You know what, I’m a little early, so why not?”

“Awesome.” He claps his hands together and offers his arm. Mari smiles and links hers in his as he starts leading them down the hall, pointing out the most obvious of things. 

The camera cuts, and she engages in conversation with Sami, who’s actually a lot like the ‘character’ he plays. Super charismatic and engaging. Kinda reminds her of herself. So much so that before she realizes, they’re back to recording after having moved across the arena. 

“And lastly we have—” His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes where they are, Sami moving his hand to her back as he directs them in the opposite direction. “Wait, we do not want to go—”

“There it is!” Mari, however, is smiling brightly as she walks toward the door.

Sami looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, frantically warning, “Mari, I know you’re like an international mega star, but trust me, you do not want to bother that man—” He’s silenced by her knocking on the door. 

His face is turning red as he urgently whispers to her, “we should really get out of here. Like right now!.”

She turns to him, confused. “Why?”

And before Sami can respond, the door is ripped open, the scowling faces of the Usos the first thing Sami lands on. He’s preparing to get chewed out only for them to look at Mari and instantly start smiling.

“Whassup, Mari!” Jimmy is the first to greet her, pulling her in for a hug. Followed by Jey, the two of them engaging in some secret handshake that ends with a ‘Yeet’.

Sami, however, laughs nervously, gesturing between the three. “Wait, you—you guys know Mari?”

Jimmy answers, slinging his arm around her. “Man, of course. This family!”

“You’re related to them?” Sami asks, eyes wide. 

Mari opens her mouth to answer when another person emerges from the private locker room, taking up almost the entire door frame, face stoic and eyes cold. 

Sami looks like he’s about to piss himself. He swallows. “My Tribal Chief, I’m so sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Mari who smiles and pulls away from Jimmy to walk up to Roman.“Hi, baby.” Sami looks on stunned as she leans up and kisses his cheek, pressing her body into his, hand on his abs. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” She grins over at Sami. “Sami was giving me a tour of the place.”

The reddening of his cheeks is about what and what with the red of his hair. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Playfully rolling her eyes as Roman continues to look like he’s contemplating murder, she lifts her left hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. “Roman’s my husband.”

Mouth open like a child who just found out Santa isn’t real, Sami does his best to reel in his surprise. “Of course, you’re married. I totally knew that!” He laughs nervously, hands on his hips. “That’s why I gladly brought you to the Tribal Chief myself. Wanted to ensure nothing but the best for the Bloodline’s first lady.”

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you.” She continues to smile, and Roman continues to send daggers with just one, stolid expression. Mari peers up, kissing him again as she reaches for his hand. “Come on.” She tugs him toward the inside of the locker room, Roman finally budging as he gives Sami one last look that has the redhead contemplating requesting a switch to Raw. 

However, as Jimmy and Jey go to follow along with their cousin, Roman is quick to slam the door in their faces. 

“Hey, Uce, uhhh,—” Jimmy tries to jangle the knob only to realize it’s locked. He starts knocking. “Roman! Hey, you gon let us in?”

A couple seconds later the door does open, but it’s Solo, followed by Paul Heyman. Wise Man closes the door behind him. He looks around, briefly bewildered and clears his throat, announcing, “The Tribal Chief has requested to be left alone this evening.” 

Sami is the only one to laugh, playfully shoving Solo and pointing to the locker room. “I bet he has.” Solo, however, also looks like he’s also contemplating murder. Sami coughs awkwardly and turns to walk away, just as the camera crew announces ‘cut’.

The remaining men share laughs about the promo, meanwhile inside the locker room Mariella relishes in the feel of being reunited with her husband in real life, and now in the WWE kayfabe verse.

She’s pressed against his body, arms around his neck with his locked around her waist, holding her to him. “Hey, Big Daddy.”

Roman, Joe, rolls his eyes. Mariella giggles. She knows he has such a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment, one of many she has for the massive man before her. “You miss me?”

He makes a sound, leaning down to connect their lips. “Always, baby.” 

She smiles into their kiss, “good answer.” His big hands venture down to squeeze her ass, Mariella moaning into his mouth which triggers something for him. He lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he goes to sit back down in the big leather chair. Joe’s tongue entering her mouth is enough to elicit another moan but also alert her to the fact of where he wants to take this.

“Baby, we cannot do the nasty at your job.”

“I don’t know why you still call it that.” His fake irritation makes her giggle. It’s an inside joke between them that she’ll never let die so long as she lives. “And who says we can’t?”

“I don’t know. The FCC?” He rolls his eyes as she grasps at his beard that she can tell he dyed recently. Most likely because of his job. She wishes he could leave it be. She likes the gray. It does….things to her. “Besides, you know the deal. If we do it right now, we can’t do it tonight.” He continues to move his hands across her ass. “Mama’s got a show this Sunday, and I’d rather not be rendered immobile because my husband impaled me on his big ole’ dick.”

Again, Joe rolls his eyes, even though there’s more truth to her statement than the typical playful jokes she cracks at any given time. Joe has a high sex drive. She’s known this for some years. Mariella, however, does not. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It’s that her husband doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to come, make her come one time for the one time, and just be done with it.

No. This man wants rounds. And truthfully, she just doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. Outside of porn stars, she doesn’t know who would.

Man is an absolute beast.

“So damn dramatic,” he chuckles against her neck. “You know I be doing most of the work anyway.”

She opens her mouth to protest. “Okay, that may or may not be true.” She can feel him smiling against her. It’s not like he minds. Joe is dominant in the sheets, wanting to be in control at all times. Her preference given he’s much more well versed in the sexual arts than she is. “But, in my defense, you’re built like a Greek god.” A Samoan god. “I get winded walking up the staircase in our house.”

“Bullshit.” He pulls back, pointing out. “You be on that stage dancing your ass off for damn near three hours.” 

She rolls her eyes, murmuring, “okay, that also may or may not be true.” Mari’s eyes flutter as he moves his hand under her dress. Long, thick fingers easily pushing aside her underwear, feeling the pool of her arousal. She squeezes his shoulders. “Joe….”

He grunts almost, gliding his fingers across her wet folds. She exhales sharply. “You this wet already and really want me to think you don’t want Big Daddy to fuck this tight lil’ pussy?”

Whining against him, Mariella unconsciously tries to move around on his lap to get his fingers back on her. In her, preferably. And it’s when he enters one of those deliciously talented fingers inside of her gushy opening, she caves. “Fine.” He smirks as she warns, “but you’re pushing me around in the wheelchair after!”

———-

Between a rock and a hard place.

That’s how Joe has felt the past few weeks, maybe even longer. But especially now.

He knows Ri’s parents are right. That they have every right to want her to spend time at home with them, in the place where she grew up, where most of her formative years and subsequent formative memories lie. Logically, it makes sense.

But, he can’t seem to get past his discomfort at the fact that Ri won’t be getting discharged and coming home with him. No, she’ll be discharged and hop on a plane with them back to Florida. Selfishly, he was hoping the doctor wouldn’t clear her to fly, but that plan went out the window. Dr. Reynolds is clearly on the same page with her parents about the potential benefit of being around constant triggers. Triggers that could help generate memories.

And Joe isn’t against that. At all. 

It’s just the fact that he won’t be there that rubs him the right way. 

“Joe.”

His eyes shut, an instant headache coming on. This is the last thing he needs. 

Turning around, he’s met with Olivia “Liv” Holmes default stare of icy indifference. Out of all of Mariella’s siblings, her family in general, Liv has always been his least favorite.

For a lot of different reasons. The main one being how she always treated Mariella when they were younger. Not mean, per se. But not kindly either. She always acted like Mariella was annoying, and she definitely could be at times, but not to the extent that Liv made it seem.

Like Mariella was just this big nuisance. It’s part of the reason she always wanted to hang out with him and Byron when they were growing up, because Liv spent most of her time with her twin sister, Everly, and her own friend group.

“Liv.” He really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone her. Their interactions have always been brief and limited to what is essential. For good reason too.

“I take it my parents told you we’re taking Ella back home to Florida with us.”

Joe has to bite back a smartass comment. Liv’s smirk and the almost smug tone of her voice isn’t what he needs right now.

“Yes.” He matches her energy a bit, reminding. “For the first couple weeks, at least. Then I’m going to bring her back home with me.” 

Where she belongs.

Liv smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “We’ll see.”

Joe gives her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know she called me.” He freezes. “The night of the accident.” Joe manages to keep a calm face despite his surprise at her words. Mariella has never been close with Liv, most of their communication occurring via texts and family group chats. 

There’s only one reason she would call her sister who happens to be a divorce attorney.

“I want a divorce.”

Liv continuing to speak is ironically appreciated, as it pulls him from the memories of what is now an infamous argument. “I was sleeping and missed her call, but she didn’t leave a message. Kinda wishing she did, because I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing out on the road that late at night.” 

He keeps his cool. Somehow. “I already told you—”

“I know what you said, Joe.” Her interruption is sharp. “I also don’t believe you, because what the hell could she have so heavy on her mind after winning 5 Grammys?” She crosses her arms. “It doesn’t make sense.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues her accusatory assault. “You seem to forget that we were in high school together, Joe. I know how you were.” At this, he can’t say anything, can’t necessarily defend himself against truth. “You and Byron fucked damn near half the girls in our school, probably at college too, and then all of a sudden you turn in your hoe card to be with my baby sister? Because you love her? I never bought that shit for a minute.”

While he can’t deny his promiscuous past, Joe isn’t about to stand here and let this woman act like he’s this horrible person who took advantage of Mariella. “What’s your point, Liv? Huh? I’m not fucking stupid. I know you never approved of me being with Ri, but just like I didn’t give a fuck then, I still don’t give a fuck now.”

Liv does relatively well hiding her disapproval among her family, to some extent. But Joe has always been hip to her truth. She thinks Mariella should have gotten with someone else, anyone else probably. Anyone who wasn’t him.

Liv, who has never done well with being challenged, steps forward, glare intense and purposeful. “I’m gonna find out what happened that night, Joe. Because I know there’s something you’re not telling us.” He keeps up his unreadable expression, though there’s a small chunk of guilt swimming around the back of his head. Not even about not being completely honest with Mariella’s family.

More about not being honest with her.

She lowers her voice. “And when I do find out—”

“Liv.”

Joe and Liv turn to see Byron Jr. standing before them with a disappointed expression.

Arms crossed, he steps toward them, focused more on Liv than Joe. “Don’t be starting no shit today, alright? This the last thing we need.”

In recent years, especially since becoming a father, BJ has matured from his hotheaded days, often even a voice of reason. One of the reasons he’s been voted Locker Room captain for his team, the 49ers, 3 years in a row.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been blinded by your friendship with him—”

“Hey.” Byron raises his voice a bit. “I mean it. You blaming people doesn’t change what happened, and you know damn well Ella would have a fit at you coming at Joe like this.”

Not really. Maybe before. Before everything collapsed so tragically between the two of them.

“Whatever.” She gives a final almost warning glare to the two of them before stalking off, probably to go see Mariella.

BJ places a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder once she’s gone. “You good, man?” 

Not at all. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. 

BJ gives a sad smile. “Don’t let Olevil get to you.” Her nickname from back when they were in high school makes Joe chuckle. “You going back to work next week?”

Joe blows out a breath. That hasn’t even crossed his mind the past couple weeks. He doesn’t even really know what storyline they came up with to cover his absence. Nor does he care really. “I haven’t even thought about that, man.”

“I think you should.” And before Joe can protest, Byron lifts his hand. “Hear me out. She’s gonna be with our parents for a few weeks, so you know she’ll be in good hands. What you gon’ do while she’s gone? Sit around the house sad and moping and shit? You know she would be chewing you out for that, telling you that you gotta get back in the game.”

Joe gives a bit of a smile. Byron is right. Knowing Mariella, she’d have a whole theatrical ass presentation as to why he should return to work, song and dance included. 

“Yeah…”

Byron slaps him on his shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?” 

Joe nods, because he will. And not for himself, not even for his job, because he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now.

But for Mariella.

His Ri. 

Because she’ll always be his Ri.

And he’s determined to make sure she doesn’t forget it this time.

———-

Spring, 2022 [cont.]

“Baby!” It’s a distant voice that becomes closer as it's repeatedly conjoined with a small hand shaking at his shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

And he does. Eyes fluttering open, his vision is blurred initially, gradually clearing up to reveal the face of his beautiful wife. Cognizant of his surroundings, Joe realizes she’s sitting on top of him, notebook and pen in hand.

He smiles. It’s been a while since she’s woken him up for this. And while he’ll regret it in the morning, he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for these little callbacks to when they were broke, living in a crappy apartment, trying to chase the dream as inspiration struck her at all hours of the night. And she would wake him up, wanting his feedback. 

He didn’t really mind then. 

And he doesn’t really mind now.

That’s just his Ri.

Eyes squinting, she asks, “you up?”

He chuckles, also enjoying the sight of her straddling him wearing only his shirt. “Yes, baby. I’m up.”

“About time,” she complains, and he rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. “I’m feeling inspired.” She says it while giving almost jazz hands, pretty brown eyes landing back on him. “Wanna hear the lyrics?”

He yawns, glancing at the digital clock that reads 2:37AM. “What else would I be doing at this time?”

She glares. “Is that sarcasm I detect, mister? Is it my fault my musical muse comes alive at night? That she flourishes when most—”

“Ri.”

“Huh?”

He closes his eyes. Joe loves Mariella with everything in him, but he’s not in the mood for one of her theatrical tangents at damn near 3 o’clock in the morning. “Lyrics.”

“Oh! Right!” Chuckling, he watches as she reads over whatever she’s written to herself at first. A bit of a habit. She’s always initially self-conscious about her lyrics. “Now, it’s just off the top of my head, so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice to you, Ri.” It’s the truth. As annoyed as he can get sometimes, she’s never been on that list. “And I’m sure it’s fine.” 

She smiles appreciatively, slightly taking him by surprise as she quietly sings the lyrics versus just reading them to him.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

Finished, she looks down at him, expectantly, “well?”

“I love it.” He loves most of what she writes though. He especially loves to hear her sing. “What inspired it?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about us. About how far we come.” She shrugs, his hands rubbing circles on her hips. “Your show was sold out tonight, Joe. Mine is sold out too. Like, we both sold out Madison Square Garden. That feels almost too perfect to be true.”

He makes a sound. “But, it is, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily and asks in a partial hypothetical tone. “We’re like really hot shit, huh?” Joe chuckles as she gasps and places her tablet down on his chest, quickly writing something down. He says nothing, having been with her for so long that none of her quirky ways really surprise him anymore.

“Also.”

“Also?”

She glares but moves to place the notebook and pen on the nightstand, resting her hands on his chest. “I was thinking about our conversation earlier…” He’s quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her sentence even if it does have him a bit on edge. He’s never been good with waiting. “Let’s do it.”

Her answer takes him by surprise. “You sure?”

She nods, tugging at his beard. “We’re not getting any younger.” She giggles, eyes playfully narrowing. “Especially you, old man.” 

At that, he sucks his teeth. “Who you calling old?” He squeezes her side, and she squeals. He knows that’s where she’s ticklish. She falls out, laughing, and he takes the advantage of her being distracted to flip them so she’s flat on her back. “Naw, say it again. I ain’t hear you.”

“Joe, stop,” she giggles as he hovers over her, tickling her until she pushes back against his shoulder. He grabs her hand, restricting her when she opens her eyes. Her laughter quietly dies down when their eyes lock. 

Love. 

So much love.

Joe leans down and connects their lips, softly, slowly, just as meaningful as any other kiss they’ve shared. She moans into his mouth, feeling his hardened length graze against her opening, her essence already making its way down her inner thighs.

He feels this too, groaning and lifting her thigh to widen her as he carefully enters her, watching her arch her back at the entrance. She whimpers, hands moving around his shoulders.

He kisses her wrist, watching the pleasure on her face as he gives her deep strokes, slow and plunging, just how he knows she likes it. “Shhhh….let me take care of you, baby.”

And he does.

He always has.

He always will.

[rollercoasterwords]

What do you think the other marauders besides Remus/Lily would like to read?

hmm interesting question....honestly lily & remus r the only ones i really imagine as big readers...

assuming this is in a canon-ish/canon-adjacent setting. i think mary would be a big poetry girly she'd fuck w plath & glück & césaire...also think she'd be into romantic fantasies like goldman's princess bride & dianna wynne jones' howl's moving castle...beagle's last unicorn as well perhaps...

don't think marlene would be big into reading but i do think lily would put her onto some sci-fi she'd enjoy--vonnegut, joanna russ, charlotte perkins gilman...i imagine her as a sci-fi fan as well but less into reading more into like. star wars & alien movies. same w james i don't imagine him as a big reader but i do think lily would find some sci-fi he'd enjoy...maybe more of like the philip k. dick lane than the vonnegut/russ lane tho. i think he might like some leguin as well; i imagine he'd be one of those people who really just wants to read a book that feels like a movie, nothing too dense or slow-moving.

i think all of the marauders would get a kick out of lord of the flies lol. & i imagine peter might find greek mythology interesting i could potentially see him reading like the odyssey or something. i think sirius would lowkey fuck w poetry but have a bit of a complex about it--think his faves would be the classic romantics so like shelley, byron, keats, etc. i think he would also fw baldwin & wilde, due to the homosexuality. also wuthering heights, & would have a complex abt that as well lol.

dorcas i imagine favoring a writing style that's a bit more brutal & dry...maybe some flannery o'connor, steinbeck, faulkner, etc...could also see her being big into like agatha christia murder mysteries. maybe some shirley jackson as well. emmeline would be into atwood i think...in my mind she'd also fuck hard w stone butch blues & would be reading lorde & butler (judith, not octavia) in the 90s. pandora would be into the weird gory shit she'd be reading like jack ketchum...probably stephen king & angela carter as well. maybe some more classic horror like poe & stoker's dracula, etc. also think she'd get really into octavia butler.

& regulus wouldn't read shit but if he did it would probably be like. fucking ayn rand. & maybe bukowski

[aal03v3ra]

Lifeguard!Gojo x Swimmer!Reader x Lifeguard!Geto

According to your schedule a normal day for you was when, you woke up at 4, got to practice by 4:30 and then trained for 3 hours, went to college, had practice in the afternoon again and then slept. It may sound extreme to other people but you love it. Its not really just the swimming aspect of it but also your team. Competing for Jujutsu High was an honor. You had friends in the team, some closer then others. Yuji and Fushigirou were your best friends, the three of you started to get known as ‘the big three’. It made sense really, you three held the fastest records in the entire history of the swim team.

You held all the fastest records for evey race that was under 400 meters. Yuji held almost all of the first place records in mens while Fushigirou had almost all the second place records in mens. The only things they moved down a rank in was the 50 meter butterfly and the 50 meter freestyle. These records were held by Gojo Satarou and Suguru Geto. The best bit about it is the fact that you get to see both of the record holders every friday during afternoon training. They had their part time jobs as lifeguards and would sometimes even give you and the rest of the swimmers some tips. Gojo was slender, had white hair and the most beautiful eyes on the planet almost the perfect body… to be doing freestyle. On the other hand Geto had broad shoulders, black hair and had one of the most handsome faces you had ever seen. Both of then were similar in height and were ripped asf. You sat there on the benches before practice thinking about all this. “Y/n? Y/n!” Yuji snaps you out of your thoughts as he continues doing some stretches to warm up. “What do you want?” you snap back a bit annoyed that you were stripped of your perfect veiw at the lifeguard chairs. “Coach Byron has been glaring at you,” Fushigirou says, “you cant be just sitting there when your meant to be warming up.” You look up at my coach and see his stern look immediately making you turn around and begin doing jumping jacks.

You cant help but keep looking at the 2 hot figures sitting in the tall lifeguard chairs. Yuji seems to notice, he raises and eyebrow. “Damn y/n didnt know you were all that into older guys,” Your cheeks flush. “I am not into the lifeguards.” Fushigirou and Yuji both grin. “We never mentioned the lifeguards,” You internally scream. “Have you guys ever tried doing jump pushups?” You ask trying to changs the subject. Fushigirou chuckles at your attempt to divert the conversation but nonetheless goes along with it. “Nope, but I bet you 5 bucks that you cant do it.” Your scoff playfully and pretend to be offended. Practice goes on as usual and you get into the water and start doing some laps. Thats when things start going wrong. As you are doing your flip turn at the wall you slam your hand into the lane rope so hard that it starts to bleed. You immediately hop out thankfull for the water on your body hiding the tears.

Coach Byron walks up to you quickly with a concerned look. “Are you alright?” He asks as he looks down and takes your hand into his. “Oh dear, that must hurt” Blood still dripping down your hand. Despite your efforts to resist he drags you to the lifeguards. You watch as the two men get off their seat and come towards you. Your heart beat going crazy. Yuji and Fushigirou have finished their set and are now watching you with eyes that told you they would never leave you alone for this. “You alright sweetheart?” Geto asks you with a deep voice that sends a shiver down your spine. “Lets see then,” Gojo walks over to you and takes your hand “ouch. Thats a bad one, Geto here slams his hand into the lane rope all the time.” You smile as you notice and embarrassed blush creep up onto Getos face. “Shut up Satarou.” You watch as they say something to your coach. “Alright then lets go,” You look at Gojo confused “go where?” Geto smiles “Into the lifeguard’s locker room. The first aid kit is in there.” Your mind races at the thought of you alone with the two finest men in the country in a locker room. You look over at the lane your friends were in only earning a sly wink from Yuji. They really are never gonna let this go.

As you walk into the locker room with both men infront of you Gojo sighs. “Thanks for getting me out of there darling,” He smiles “you have no clue how boring it is to just sit there.” You blush at the nickname a bit and he seems to notice. A smirk creeps onto his face. Geto walks up to you with a first aid kit and swiftly lifts you up and put you on the counter top with the sinks. This does not help the redness of your cheeks. Gojo whispers something into Getos ear as he bandages you up.

Geto raises and eyebrow at you when hears whatever Gojo had whispered. You look at them confused but quickly look away being unable to control your heart beat when you make eye contact with the man covering your wound. You hear a chuckle making you look up at the bulky man. He finishes bandaging your hand but doesnt let go of it. You look at him confused, your heart skips a beat as you make eye contact. Without breaking his gaze he lifts your hand and kisses it. He winks at you “Do I make you blush baby?” Can people hear your heartbeat from outside you? “w-what?” you ask in a flustered voice. “You know staring at us before practices, stalking our social media platforms using Yuji’s account” Geto says with a smirk “Don’t forget watching the ck commercial we did on repeat” Gojo adds. By this point your face was as red as it could get. “Shut up,” You manage to say. “Make me” You hear Gojo tease. “how about we take this off,” Geto says as he removes your swim cap. Your slightly wet hair is tied up in a messy bun. You can’t resist anymore. “If I lose one you lose one” you say in a suprisingly flirty way. You tug at the bottom of his shirt. Your internally screaming. Your comment earns a chuckle from the man in front of you. Geto pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion revealing his perfect abs and toned torso. A blush creeps onto your face “That includes you too” you say looking at Gojo.

“Damn,” you say under your breath as you take in the sught of the two shirtless men infront of you. Gojo slowly walks behind you and hugs you from behind taking in the scent of chlorine. You sit still as Geto holds your jaw and makes you face him. Before you realise what he is doing he smashes his lips into yours. As he does so Gojo starts planting purple marks on your shoulder and neck. Gojos hand start creeping up your body and stop at your ribs. You gasp slightly as his cold hand slip into your swimsuit. Moans escaping your busy mouth as he plays with your tits. Geto kisses you rougher and whispers “shh baby~ we dont want anyone hearing us now do we?”

This is my first time posting on this platform please tell me if i should keep posting :)

[probably-enjolras]

parking on my college campus is great because all the cars have something that is just slightly unhinged. here is a list of things i’ve seen YESTERDAY alone:

my own car that has a fall out boy bumper sticker encouraging people to keep honking at me and i’ll ignore them in favor of listening to TTTYG

a car that has the license plate “oh worms”

a regular car with military decoration saying the driver was in the marines and had family in the military and it’s all clean and organized except for a corner that just has an alien smoking a cigarette and saying “existence is pain”

a car with the license plate “mstr yda” (Master Yoda) and definitely lived up to it because instead of those antlers you can put on your car for christmas to be a reindeer, this car had Yoda’s ears on it

a car with a sticker that told people to be nice to them because their tummy was upset (AND i know exactly where this sticker came from bc it’s a local trans owned art business that does mostly DND, queer, and funny/relatable stickers, bookmarks, notebooks etc)

the staff parking has roughly 4x the amount of yellow cars than the student parking, even though it’s only two lanes compared to multiple lots for students

a staff car that was almost certainly an english professor with a sticker that said “let me tell you why i hate lord byron”

no one (including staff) following the rules on which corner to put your parking pass sticker on (guys we get free parking all over campus and they will give you more stickers any time you lose yours just PUT IT IN THE RIGHT PLACE)

a line up of three cars next to each other with one being a truck with an american flag with the blue line for the “blue lives matter” thing (gross), a confederate flag (gross also but we’re in rural virginia so not unusual), and surprisingly no tr*mp stickers but pretty much every republican in the state and local areas, next to a small red buggy that was mostly covered in doctor who, star wars, and marvel stickers and a small pride flag in the window, next to a jeep that had the sticker “silly boys jeeps are for girls” and a license plate that said “chicks rule” (in a way that fit the license plate amount of space)

and, my personal favorite because we have the same schedule and i see him at my local bagel place a lot, a guy with an ATV that has a lot of stickers about all the forests, monuments, and national parks he’s been too, but double the amount of stickers telling everyone that he loves bigfoot, bigfoot is real, bigfoot is his sugar daddy, and a line up of different cryptids in the corner that you’d see those little family stickers that show the mom, dad, kids, and pets as stick figures

i don’t like taking pictures of cars, i feel like it’s quite violating and because i’m at a local college if i took a picture, it wouldn’t be hard to actually doxx these people, so you’ll just have to take my word for it but i don’t think i’m creative enough to actually make this shit up lmao

[whipplefilter]

As someone who's historically been very big into NASCAR and the Cars franchise, and someone who owns diecast, what have your thoughts been on the NASCAR-themed line of Piston Cup diecast, and the paint job they gave Lightning McQueen?

Let's give this a look-see:

My honest opinion? It doesn't feel like it's Ramone's work, which kind of makes me feel Tex (as current owner of the Rusteze racing team) cheaped out on this, haha. Maybe Ramone's docket was full because he was designing for Cruz that week.

Design-wise, there's just something about this that feels heavy, which isn't what you want your race livery to suggest. I think it's that solid black line that's dragging this design down. They've added a yellow bar at the bottom to lighten it up, but there's clean, modern design and then there's "I made this in PowerPoint" design.

Personally, I think NASCAR schemes look best when they're ostentatious. You don't want it to be too busy, which can be an especial issue when it's a digitally printed wrap vs. paint (see: Chase Elliott's 2018 Watkins Glen scheme, though I'm honestly not mad at that one), but this is just basic.

Part of this is the lack of sponsor stickers, though if you're not actively racing in the Piston Cup you can't really help that. But the line weight on the 95 is too thin! You're showcasing a historic number! Look alive! OG LMQ wasn't a Ramone creation either, and was fairly texture-heavy, which might feel dated now, but this just looks bad. Xfinity backrunner bargain scheme bad!

In terms of NASCAR schemes that have stood out this year, Byron's have all looked pretty sharp, imho! And I admire, I guess? Penske's commitment to Ugly Blaney Yellow on Yellow, using a warm yellow for most of the car and including the greenish highlighter Menard's yellow on top of that. Never stop giving us multiple years worth of Ugly Blaney, Penske. Do I miss M&Ms? YOU BET I DO. But sure, 3CHI in victory lane, we love to see it!!

[sortanonymous]

Last-Minute NASCAR Cup Playoff Predictions (No visual grid, sorry)

Round of 16 Exits:

Harrison Burton (I'm sorry, but... duh!)

Daniel Suárez (At least my second-favorite Trackhouse driver got in)

Austin Cindric (Penske playoff magic isn't unlimited)

Joey Logano (Please tell me reality sets in for both the Steelers of NASCAR and football this fall!)

Round of 12 Exits:

Alex Bowman (Making it this far would honestly be miraculous considering the dumb off-field distractions)

Martin Truex Jr. (I don't even really care about the title. Just please racing gods, let this legend go out with just one more win after the hell you've put him through these past 14 months!)

Chase Briscoe (SHR's final ride has almost certainly already peaked, but I still can't wait to see Briscoe in the 19 - as long as James Small doesn't waste his prime like he wasted MTJ's twilight)

Ty Gibbs (This last cut was tough, but I think his sneakily solid sophomore season goes no further, unless he can come close to a win anyway.)

Round of 8 Exits:

Denny Hamlin (I was initially on the fence between "It's his time" and "He'll choke again", but that brutal penalty could really be the dagger by this round)

Chase Elliott (Consistency should yield championships, but it unfortunately doesn't in modern NASCAR, so he may fall behind the other win-worthy drivers.)

Brad Keselowski (Maybe I'm high-balling him, but I think Brad has enough recent playoff energy left in him to carry RFK this far, but not any farther.)

Ryan Blaney (VERY close between him and Byron, but while Blaney is coming into these playoffs better than his championship year, I just get the feeling Hendrick will turn it up again and get Byron back to Phoenix. I saw someone call this the modern version of Jummie and Knaus's formula for the Chase, and I think they've got a point.)

Championship 4 and why they could win:

Kyle Larson - Even if this isn't his best season, it feels like a true banner year for Larson as a racecar driver, and with him being just one point away from the Regular Season title even after getting washed away from the most valuable race of the year, he could have a good case to win his second Bill France Cup. (Heck, it looked like he would seal it last year off another clutch pit stop, but unlike in '21, he wouldn't hold on during the final restart.)

William Byron - As said earlier, Byron may be catching onto the same formula the 48 team made a dynasty out of, and even if his championship-caliber season last year didn't end on a high note, his past success at Phoenix could be enough to put the legendary 24 car in championship lane for the first time in 23 years.

Tyler Reddick - Moving onto my two real championship contenders, Reddick made a heck of a late charge to win the Regular Season title on fumes (albiet with a little help from Mother Nature in Indy), and being arguably the best driver in Cup this year, he should be able to get over the hump and get 23XI to not just its first Championship 4 berth, but perhaps the first championship ring of any kind in decades for both of its very differently decorated owners. (Maybe its last Final 4 berth though considering this charter drama that I already lost track of like four months ago.)

Christopher Bell - Chalk it up all you want to bias for who will, after a certain retirement, soon become my second-favorite driver, but not only has Bell been insanely clutch in the playoffs as of late (he's damn near NASCAR's Mr. October at this point), but if the October Bell indeed rings all the way to Phoenix, he'll be in his paradise of the kind of flat tracks he's been so good at. (Legit, he may be the only person in the world who isn't a NASCAR executive that wants Phoenix to stay as the championship track, even if he's had championship success at Homestead in lower divisions.) Yeah, he lost his first two Final 4 berths, but those were respectively due to an OP Logano car and his tire becoming a nuke just as the race got going. Considering how he's already had his best season so far, he may have just enough to secure the 20 team (and in fact any JGR ride not driven by Kyle Busch) their first Cup title in nearly two decades. (It'd be especially since SHR's closing may mean the end of the last #20 car champion's 26-year involvement in NASCAR, as if Smoke really seems to care about that.)

And my pick for 2024 NASCAR Cup Series Champion is...

Christopher Bell! (Reddick was really close, but the Phoenix factor could be the difference. No, I'm just high on hopium after one of my two favorites collapses out of a playoff spot and the other is on pace to easily the saddest final season and a half of any Hall-of-Famer (present or future) that didn't die on the track.)

Now watch as these age like milk and the Wood Brothers win their first(?) ever Cup with a driver they issued a pink slip to months ago! 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

[sweetergirlmartini]

The lables, Actor, and Writer seem too flattening to describe Michaela Coel, when she is clearly more than what meets the eye. After all, she does have stunning physical features, but the humanity that is buried beneath her striking cheek bones, feline like eyes, and blossoming lips astounds me to a deeper field of consciousness. So it is only right to label her as my ultimate idol.

I recently read her Vulture interview after binging her (BAFTA) award winning Netflix T.V show: Chewing Gum. A raunchy story of a 24 year old desperate to lose her virginity. A must watch if you’re into awkward British humor. Similar favorites of mine are the television shows and movie: Rhy Lane (Co created by Nathan Byron and Tom Malia), Fleabag, and Crashing (both created by Phoebe Waller-Bridge)

Above are a few passages from Michaela’s interview which really struck me.

In the interview, Michaela shares her experience as an early Christian, turned poet, turned drama student, turned critically acclaimed actor and writer of two award winning television series.

The multifaceted artist, speaks of how her experiences tied into each of her artistic endeavors. As well as her rise to stardom, and how it uncovered deeper truths inside of her interpersonal world. Furthermore, how the bare presence of her highly acclaimed television shows lead to her decision making process’s surrounding: ethics, politics, and writing. She furthermore shares how racism— or what she calls thoughtlessness, only inspired her to be a stronger force in the industry.

I May Destroy You, yet another one of her (8x) award winning HBO-BBC shows, visioned Michaela’s journey through her sexual assault. She details her writing journey, during the chewing gum series, and how it birthed the plot of the show HBO-BBC hit show. She ends the interview, by prudently commenting on what closure looked like for her regarding the assault; both on and off screen. A truly astonishing person, giving a must read interview. If you’d like to read it here you go :)

https://www.vulture.com/article/michaela-coel-i-may-destry-you.html

[burningvelvet]

Every Instance of Lord Byron Hating On John Keats, Listed in Chronological Order.

“No more Keats I entreat — flay him alive. If some of you don’t I must skin him myself.”

To his publisher John Murray, 12 October 1820:

“‘I’m thankful for your books dear Murray / But why not send Scott’s Monastery?’ the only book in four living volumes I would give a baioccho to see, abating the rest of the same author, and an occasional Edinburgh & Quarterly – as brief Chroniclers of the times. — Instead of this – here are John Keats’s piss a bed poetry – and three novels by God knows whom [..] Pray send me no more poetry but what is rare and decidedly good. — There is such a trash of Keats and the like upon my tables – that I am ashamed to look at them. [..] – I am in a very fierce humour at not having Scott’s Monastery. – You are too liberal in quantity and somewhat careless of the quality of your missives. – [..] No more Keats I entreat – – – flay him alive – if some of you don’t I must skin him myself. There is no bearing the drivelling idiotism of the Mankin. – – – – – [editor’s note: ‘dashes degenerate into scrawl’]”

To his publisher John Murray, 4 November 1820:

“They Support Pope I see in the Quarterly. [Let them] Continue to do so – it is a Sin & a Shame and a damnation – to think that Pope!! should require it – but he does. – – – Those miserable mountebanks of the day – the poets – disgrace themselves – and deny God – in running down Pope – the most faultless of Poets, and almost of men – – the Edinburgh praises Jack Keats or Ketch or whatever his names are; – why his is the Onanism of Poetry — something like the Pleasure an Italian fiddler extracted out of being suspended daily by a Street Walker in Drury Lane – this went on for some weeks – at last the Girl – went to get a pint of Gin – met another, chatted too long – and Cornelli was hanged outright before she returned. Such like is the trash they praise – and such will be the end of the outstretched poesy of this miserable Self-polluter of the human Mind [editor’s note: ‘untranscribable scrawl’]. W. Scott’s Monastery just arrived — many thanks for that Grand Desideratun of the last Six Months.”

Note: “onanism” refers to masturbation.

To his publisher John Murray, 9 November 1820:

“Mr. Keats whose poetry you enquire after — appears to me what I have already said; such writing is a sort of mental masturbation — he is always frigging his Imagination. I don’t mean that he is indecent, but viciously soliciting his own ideas into a state which is neither poetry nor any thing else but a Bedlam vision produced by raw pork and opium.”

Note: “frigging” was slang for masturbation.

To his publisher John Murray, 18 November 1820:

“P.S. — Of the praises of that little dirty blackguard Keates in the Edinburgh — I shall observe as Johnson did when Sheridan the actor got a pension. ‘What has he got a pension? then it is time that I should give up mine!’ — Nobody could be prouder of the praises of the Edinburgh than I was — or more alive to their censure — as I showed in English Bards and Scotch Reviewers — at present all the men they have ever praised are degraded by that insane article. — Why don't they review & praise ‘Solomon's Guide to Health’ it is better sense — and as much poetry as Johnny Keates.”

To his publisher John Murray 26 April 1821:

“Is it true – what Shelley writes me that poor John Keats died at Rome of the Quarterly Review? I am very sorry for it – though I think he took the wrong line as a poet – and was spoilt by Cockneyfying and Surburbing – and versifying Tooke’s Pantheon and Lempriere’s Dictionary. I know by experience that a savage review is Hemlock to a sucking author – and the one on me – (which produced the English Bards &c.) knocked me down – but I got up again. Instead of bursting a blood-vessel – I drank three bottles of Claret – and began an answer – finding that there was nothing in the Article for which I could lawfully knock Jeffrey on the head in an honourable way. However I would not be the person who wrote the homicidal article – for all the honour & glory in the World, – though I by no means approve of that School of Scribbling – which it treats upon.”

To Percy Shelley, 26 April 1821:

“I am very sorry to hear what you say of Keats — is it actually true? I did not think criticism had been so killing. Though I differ from you essentially in your estimate of his performances, I so much abhor all unnecessary pain, that I would rather he had been seated on the highest peak of Parnassus than have perished in such a manner. Poor fellow! though with such inordinate self-love he would probably have not been very happy. I read the review of ‘Endymion’ in the Quarterly. It was severe, — but surely not so severe as many reviews in that and other journals upon others.

I recollect the effect on me of the Edinburgh on my first poem; it was rage, and resistance, and redress — but not despondency nor despair. I grant that those are not amiable feelings; but, in this world of bustle and broil, and especially in the career of writing, a man should calculate upon his powers of resistance before he goes into the arena. ‘Expect not life from pain nor danger free, Nor deem the doom of man reversed for thee.’

You know my opinion of that second-hand school of poetry. You also know my high opinion of your own poetry, — because it is of no school. [..] I have published a pamphlet on the Pope controversy, which you will not like. Had I known that Keats was dead — or that he was alive and so sensitive — I should have omitted some remarks upon his poetry, to which I was provoked by his attack upon Pope, and my disapprobation of his own style of writing.”

To Percy Shelley, 30 July 1821:

[First page missing] “The impression of Hyperion upon my mind was – that it was the best of his works. Who is to be his editor? It is strange that Southey who attacks the reviewers so sharply in his Kirk White – calling theirs ‘the ungentle craft’ – should be perhaps the killer of Keats. Kirke White was nearly extinguished in the same way – by a paragraph or two in ‘the Monthly’ – Such inordinate sense of censure is surely incompatible with great exertion – have not all known writers been the subject thereof?”

To his publisher John Murray 30 July 1821:

“Are you aware that Shelley has written an Elegy on Keats, and accuses the Quarterly of killing him?

‘Who killed John Keats? / ‘I,’ says the Quarterly, / So savage and Tartarly; / ‘Twas one of my feats.’ / Who shot the arrow? / ‘The poet-priest Milman / (So ready to kill man), / Or Southey or Barrow.’’

You know very well that I did not approve of Keats’s poetry, or principles of poetry, or of his abuse of Pope; but, as he is dead, omit all that is said about him in any M.S.S. of mine, or publication. His Hyperion is a fine monument, and will keep his name. I do not envy the man who wrote the article; — you Review people have no more right to kill than any other footpads. However, he who would die of an article in a Review would probably have died of something else equally trivial. The same thing nearly happened to Kirke White, who died afterwards of a consumption.”

4 August 1821, to his publisher John Murray:

“You must however omit the whole of the observations against the Suburban School – they are meant against Keats and I cannot war with the dead – particularly those already killed by Criticism. Recollect to omit all that portion in any case.”

To his publisher John Murray, 7 August 1821:

“All the part about the Suburb School must be omitted – as it referred to poor Keats now slain by the Quarterly Review — [..] I have just been turning over the homicide review of J. Keats. – It is harsh certainly and contemptuous but not more so than what I recollect of the Edinburgh R. of ‘the Hours of Idleness’ in 1808. The Reviewer allows him ‘a degree of talent which deserves to be put in the right way’ ‘rays of fancy’ ‘gleams of Genius’ and ‘powers of language’. – It is harder on L. Hunt than upon Keats & professes fairly to review only one book of his poem. – Altogether – though very provoking it was hardly so bitter as to kill unless there was a morbid feeling previously in his system.”

To Thomas Moore, August 27th 1822:

“It was not a Bible that was found in Shelley's pocket, but John Keats's poems.”

From his poem Don Juan Canto Eleventh written October 1822 and published August 1823. He was going off the popular gossip shared to him by Shelley (who believed it), which was that Keats health had sharply declined due to receiving bad reviews:

“John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, / Just as he really promised something great, / If not intelligible, without Greek / Contrived to talk about the Gods of late, / Much as they might have been supposed to speak. / Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; / ‘Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, / Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.”

To his publisher John Murray, 25 December 1822:

“As to any community of feeling, thought, or opinion, between Leigh Hunt and me, there is little or none. We meet rarely, hardly ever; but I think him a good-principled and able man, and must do as I would be done by. I do not know what world he has lived in – but I have lived in three or four – and none of them like his Keats and Kangaroo terra incognita – Alas! poor Shelley! – how he would have laughed – had he lived, and how we used to laugh now & then – at various things – which are grave in the Suburbs. You are all mistaken about Shelley – – you do not know – how mild – how tolerant – how good he was in Society – and as perfect a Gentleman as ever crossed a drawing room; – when he liked – & where he liked. – – – – –“

The excerpts above are taken primarily from Peter Cochran’s transcriptions.

[kwebtv]

TV  Guide -  August 29 - September 4, 1964

Anna Marie “Patty” Duke (December 14, 1946 – March 29, 2016) Actress of stage, film and television. She first became famous as a tween star, winning an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress at age 16 for her role in The Miracle Worker, which she had originated on Broadway. She later starred in the sitcom, The Patty Duke Show. She progressed to more mature roles upon playing Neely O'Hara in the 1967 film Valley of the Dolls. She served as the president of the Screen Actors Guild from 1985 to 1988, four years after her Patty Duke Show co-star William Schallert held the same office.  (Wikipedia)

William Joseph Schallert (July 6, 1922 – May 8, 2016)

William Schallert’s face was one of those that was well known before many viewers even knew his name.  He was the chamelon of character actors who popped up regularly in anthologies, westerns, dramas and sitcoms from the 1950’s and as recent as 2014, as an unbilled elevator operator in an episode of “Two Broke Girls”.  (Wikipedia)

Jean Byron (born Imogene Audette Burkhart; December 10, 1925 – February 3, 2006)  Film, television, and stage actress. She is best known for the role of Natalie Lane, Patty Lane's mother in The Patty Duke Show. She was also known as Jean Audette and Jean Burkhart early in her career.

She had guest roles on The Millionaire, The Pepsi-Cola Playhouse, Science Fiction Theatre, Fury, and Bourbon Street Beat. Byron also served as spokeswoman for Revlon and Lux products on NBC's The Rosemary Clooney Show. She played Minnie in the syndicated TV series Mayor of the Town (1954).

In 1959, Byron landed a semiregular spot on CBS's The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis playing Dr. Imogene Burkhart, her real name.  During her time on the show, she was cast in a spinoff pilot about Dobie Gillis' girlfriend, Zelda, where she would have played the girl's mother. However, the pilot was not picked up. In the show's final season, Byron convinced producers to allow her character to discard the plain, repressed appearance she presented, and show a more modern version of a schoolteacher.

The following year, she starred in the short-lived soap opera Full Circle.  In 1963, she won the role of Natalie Lane on The Patty Duke Show.  After the series ended in 1966, she continued appearing in guest roles on Batman, Marcus Welby, M.D., Maude, and Hotel. She also was a regular on Pat Paulsen's Half a Comedy Hour (1970).

Byron's last on-screen role was in the 1999 television movie The Patty Duke Show: Still Rockin' in Brooklyn Heights.  (Wikipedia)

[thebeautifulbook]

DON JUAN by Lord Byron. (London/ New York: John Lane Bodley Head/Dodd Mead, 1927) Illustrated by John Austen

source

[mitchellparker]

hey hi hello

ziggy or ferris, any pronouns, autistic, 20, bi (gender & sexual), learning ASL. i’ve been a fan of baseball since i was 8 years old and this special interest refuses to evacuate my brain.

main: @yellowjackets96 / asoiaf sideblog: @helaenarya / writing sideblog: @believemenatalie

ULT BIASES

teams: washington nationals, cleveland guardians

players: ryan zimmerman, max scherzer, jose ramirez, sean doolittle, shane bieber, josiah gray, triston mckenzie, jordan zimmermann, victor robles, juan soto, eli morgan, CJ abrams, lane thomas, daniel hudson, luis garcía jr, steven kwan, keibert ruiz, jake irvin, mackenzie gore, mitchell parker, riley adams, stone garrett, andrés giménez, the naylor bros, gio gonzález, will brennan, emmanuel clase, tanner bibee, kyle finnegan, and probably many others im forgetting :]

OTHERS I ENJOY

teams: arizona diamondbacks, tampa bay rays

players: shohei ohtani, corbin carroll, zac gallen, ketel marte, ryan mcmahon, carlos correa, byron buxton, ozzie albies, mike trout — essentially, anyone with whom i’ve had nice encounters, and/or find silly :D