#Installation of Scoreboards

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[nicolewritesthings]

Don't press your luck

Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Summary: After the team wins their basketball game, Hopper!reader and Steve go to a party just as friends. But do you leave that way?

Warnings: a little bit of steamy time

Note: it's been a minute, and then I thought I got locked out of this account but I found my password!! This can be read alone, but also is an installment for my hopper x harrington series because I love that idea so much.

Read another part of that series here: What would Madonna do?

Enjoy :)

Spring 1985

Hawkins High School's gym is filled to the brim during a much anticipated match up this basketball season. The crowd cheers on their Tigers as the clock dwindles down to under a minute left of the fourth quarter.

Steve is having a particularly good game, leading the team in points. Boy, did he need the win. After everything that happened a few months ago with Nancy and another brush with death, he really needed some good energy. Dare he think, to get back a bit of the King Steve glory again.

He weaves down the court, faking out a player, and SWISH. Another basket. The crowd ROARS. Steve looks up at the scoreboard: 35 seconds, they're up by 4. Let's keep it that way.

From the crowd, little miss Hopper watches intently. Quite literally on the edge of her seat. She doesn't normally go to basketball games. Maybe she went to a couple with Nancy her freshman year, but basketball really wasn't her preferred sport. So, when she and Nancy naturally drifted apart and made new friends, she had no one forcing her to these games. That is, until now.

Her newly formed friendship with Steve started last Halloween when she was stuck babysitting a bunch of kids, fighting monsters, and getting beaten up by Hargrove. Trauma really bonds the least likely of friends.

Now the two really couldn't get enough of each other. And that is meant in the most platonic way possible. Well, sort of. The two are both major flirts, so it's not her fault when the banter crosses that line and there's a little too friendly of touching. It would also explain why she was at a basketball game for the first time in two years. Yeah, to support her new friend. But, she can't lie to herself, she really wanted to see him sweaty and aggressive and thankfully - winning.

So, Miss Hopper watched as Steve ran down the court again, bidding his teammate for the ball. It's passed to him and she stands up along with the rest of the crowd. They all watch in anticipation as Steve shoots and - SWISH, sinks it into the basket.

The buzzer sounds and the crowd erupts. Hawkins won! Against their rivals no less! She CHEERS, high-fiving the students around her.

Her eyes are on Steve as he celebrates with his team. She smiles, damn he needed this.

Steve breaks apart from his teammates and looks up to the crowd, easily finding her already staring back at him. He gives her an arrogant shrug, making her roll her eyes so hard, but that smirk doesn't leave either one of their faces. He nods his head toward the locker room, silently communicating to her in the very loud, packed gym.

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

Hopper waits outside the gym in the parking lot, where some other students are waiting for their friends and most likely - boyfriends. Some of the girls look over at her and eye her "GO STEVE" sign. She know how this looks, but making the sign gave her a really good laugh. With all its glitter and pep. She knew Steve would crack up too.

But here, now faced with presumably other girlfriends, she feels just a slight bit of insecurity. Then Marissa Adams is striding over to her, and Marissa's other friend, Ashley something, follows. Marissa nods over at the closed locker room doors.

"You're Steve's girl now?" Marissa asks casually.

Hopper shake her head, "just friends."

Marissa nods, her hands in her pockets, and shares a look with Ashley. She eyes the sign then looks back at Hopper and says, "no girl's just friends with Steve Harrington."

Marissa's a senior like Steve, and it's safe to assume there's some history there. Hopper thinks back, trying to recall any rumor about the two of them together but comes up short. He's been with a lot of girls, she knew that much. But, she'll have to ask Steve about her later.

"Well, there's a first for everything," she says, smiling.

Marissa smiles, taken back by her casual demeanor. She's cool, Hopper thinks, and not your typical townie. Her parents are rich, like work in the city and vacation in Europe rich.

"My boyfriend's throwing a party after this if you want to come," Marissa says cooly, "bring the MVP with you."

Hopper nods as Marissa and Ashley turn toward the opening doors. A blonde boy, Mark, envelopes Marissa into a hug. Hopper shifts her attention to a certain dark head of hair racing towards her.

Steve smiles, pointing at the sign, "that is the best fucking thing I've ever seen." He quickly pulls her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him, face nuzzled into his chest, taking in the fresh soap smell and clean clothes.

She pulls back and he takes the sign into his hands, continuing to gawk, "is that blue glitter? So cheesy."

"You love it," she smirk, walking in tandem toward his car.

Steve throws his things and the sign into the back. She eyes Marissa and turn back to Steve, "I got invited to Mark's party tonight."

He laughs at this as the two get into his car, "wait, who told you? I was just going to bring it up."

"Marissa Adams. She thinks we're dating," she flips through the radio.

Steve starts the car, "oh yeah? What made her say that."

She points to the sign and settles on some rock song.

He nods his head, "yeah that is a bit deceiving. You know, I had a thing with her back in the day."

"I gathered that," she eyes him, "she said you're not friends with girls."

"What the hell does that even mean," Steve scoffs, "you and I are friends."

She throws her hands up, "that's what I said! There's a first for everything."

Steve sneaks a glance over at her, taking in her features. Her cute nose, big eyes, perfect lips. He always does this, sneaking a look here and there when he thinks she's not paying attention. But he's oblivious to her knowing smirk and her own stolen glances.

He lets the song sit comfortably in the car, lost in his thoughts of her. Marissa is right, he wasn't close friends with girls. But, that was his former self, his previous persona. Now he had Hopper and her witty humor and their study sessions and their movie nights and late drives to pick up the kids. Not to mention they ate lunch together almost every day, save for basketball practice or her english club meetings.

They were friends. His first close girl friend who he hasn't ended up romantically, or physically, involved with in some capacity. Which is a miracle because god, have you seen her?

Her perfect hair and soft skin that he gets to feel sometimes when she's a little too close or they're a little too touchy. Oh, he's in for it come summer. She'll probably lifeguard again and come by his pool in a tiny bikini and-

"Steve!" she practically yells for his attention. His bicep burns at the touch of her hand enclosed around his arm.

He scoffs, "sorry, what?"

"Let's park at yours and walk. I'll call my dad and tell him I'm crashing at your place again," she shrugs, retracting her hand from his arm.

He breathes out, "good idea. We can sneak some of my dad's booze."

"Fuck yes," she practically moans. Steve sucks in a breath. She continues, "your dad has excellent taste in tequila."

-------

After a night of dancing and drinking and an abundance of school spirit, Steve and Little Miss Hopper make their way up the Harrington's driveway.

"Really? Rob Lowe over Han Solo?" Steve whispers as he unlocks the door. Their game of who'd you rather has gotten very heated.

She follows him inside, slipping off her shoes, "have you seen him in the Outsiders?!"

Steve shushes her, "but does he fight intergalactic space battles?"

“Now you’re suddenly a star wars fan?” she asks in disbelief, “you fell asleep last time we watched.”

“Whatever, I still think he’s a cool dude,” he shrugs.

They head upstairs and into his bedroom. Steve flicks the light on and she immediately beelines for the bed, plopping down onto it.

"But Rob Lowe's eyes are to die for," she doubles down.

Steve fumbles around his drawers, pulling out extra clothes for her to sleep in. He sets them on the bed and sits down beside her. She sits up on her elbows.

Steve shakes his head, "they have the same eyes, don't they?"

She shrugs, "I prefer brunettes anyways."

"You do?" he smirks.

She rolls her eyes and smacks his arm, "get your mind out of the gutter, Harrington."

"Oh, I could go way deeper into the gutter if I wanted to, Hopper," he laughs, looking down at her.

She sits up now, giggling, "deeper, yeah?"

Now he rolls his eyes, and can't help but join her in laughing at their mutually childish sense of humor.

See, friends can laugh like this together, he thinks. He also thinks about how she's staying the night. In the guest room, of course, but still. They can go to the diner tomorrow for breakfast, sit in their favorite booth, and order their usuals. He'll feign disgust at her purely black coffee and she'll pick at his pancakes even when she insists on never getting the sweet option.

"I'm still surprised your dad let's you stay the night here," Steve ponders this every time it happens, "isn't one of his rules, 'no boys overnight.'"

She shrugs off her jacket, "I guess he doesn't see you as a threat. And actually his rule is don't get pregnant, but they go hand in hand."

Is that disappointment she catches in Steve's eyes? Is he seriously offended that her dad, the big scary Sheriff, believes they're just friends too. I mean, hell, he's grown fond of Steve over the past few months with how much he's been there for both of his girls. Also, the Sheriff knows his daughter and he knows when she's hiding something. She's not hiding Steve.

"Don't look all sad, Steve," she moves on the bed to face him, "it's a good thing you're flying under his radar."

"Yeah, but it's like your dad doesn't think I have a shot with you," he slips out, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Hopper's eyes glimmer. A mischievous look on her face as she debates her next move. She could do nothing and look past this falter in Steve's usual smooth confidence. Or, she could give in a little and entertain this whole conversation.

So, with the help of the few drinks in her system, Hopper eyes Steve, taking in all his glorious features. His long eyelashes and great hair. What would it feel like to run your fingers through it? To tug a little?

She smirks, "do you think you have a shot with me?"

Steve looks up, taken aback by her question. He nearly melts as her big eyes stare up at him. Fuck, what is she doing? Is she doing what he thinks she's doing?

Wait, Steve knows what this is. He's done this a bunch of times with girls. He's egged them on, gotten them to be the ones to make the first move. He's never the first one to lay all his cards out there on the table. He's definitely never felt shy about being attracted to someone before and yet, here he is with the most beautiful girl he's met, in his bedroom about to change into his clothes, batting her eyelashes at him like it's some game.

No way is he going to lose at his own fucking game.

So he does what he does best and reverts back to King Steve. Just this once is fine, he thinks.

He stands up and walks over to his dresser. With his back faced to her, he shrugs, "you tell me."

Hopper sits back, shaking her head in disbelief. She thought she had him for a second there, but now he's acting all aloof and-

She looks up to find him tugging his shirt off his body, leaving the perfect view of his bare back. Oh you got to be kidding me. Now he's playing with her.

The tension in the room is palpable as Steve turns around and leans against his dresser. He doesn't break eye contact as he slips on a loose white t-shirt to sleep in. She stares back, not looking down as he covers his bare chest.

What she says next will change the trajectory of their friendship, she thinks. So she debates her next move, thinking back to how well they know each other now and how if they move into this physical territory, they risk their friendship. Is it worth it?

But the pounding in her heart is distracting and she can't help but focus on the feeling of desire in the pit of her stomach and the way her skin buzzes by the mere thought of him touching her. This isn't the first time she's felt this way with Steve.

She thinks back to the first time she felt this spark with him. When they were walking down those train tracks with Dustin slightly ahead of them. How Steve grabbed her wrist to stop her from tripping over a broken track. The electricity shot through her in an instant. Something she's never felt before.

Then the memory of desire floods her system. When she and Steve sat on his couch watching Nightmare on Elm Street and he pulled her into his chest because he was anxious and spooked. She felt his warmth and could smell his fresh linen scent. God, she could have taken him then and there if she really acted on how she felt.

But now she's in his bed, on the precipice of changing their friendship forever and instead of making the logical decision, she lets the need for his touch consume her.

His statement echoes in her mind - 'you tell me.'

"Yeah, you do," she states cooly, eyes still locked with his.

Steve breaks momentarily, sucking in a breath. He did not expect that answer, but fuck it. He can't help but eye her pouting lips and big eyes looking back at him. Don't do it, don't do it, don't-

and then she looks down at his lips, briefly, but he still catches it and now all he sees is red.

Steve strides across the room and lunges down to her level, cupping her face in his hands. He crashes his lips to hers and oh wow, is it better than he's ever imagined.

She grips his wrists, pulling him into her as he stumbles onto the bed. Her skin buzzes as they kiss, she needs him to touch her - anywhere.

He sits beside her and puts a hand on her waist. She leans towards him, sitting up on her knees and lowering onto his lap. She deepens the kiss as Steve's hands wander over her body.

The pit in her stomach grows more and more as she pushes further into him, grinding onto his lap. He groans and grabs the side of her head and neck, gripping her to look back at him. They eye each other, waiting for the other to break.

Steve bites his lip, "don't do that."

"You sure?" she smirks, going to lean in. He grips her head gently, making her look at him still.

With hooded eyes, he drawls out, "don't start something you can't finish."

Oof.

King Steve strikes again.

It's subtle. This implication that she's going to put out, and that brings her right back to any other hook up with any other guy. Maybe he didn't mean it like that, but it rubs her the wrong way. It sobers her up completely.

She stares back at him and Steve feels the mood shift.

"Don't push your luck, Harrington," she scoffs, nudging his hands off of her and rising from his lap.

Oh god, he fucked up, didn't he?

He goes to stand and go after her, but his hard-on decides otherwise. Steve stays glued on the bed as she grabs her clothes and retreats to the door.

"Wait, I'm so confused right now," Steve says quickly.

Hopper pauses, turning to him, "I'm tired, okay? Let's just talk about this tomorrow."

Before he can respond, she's already shutting the door and crossing the hall to the guest room, leaving Steve very confused and still very turned on by his best friend.

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - bonus part one

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader; past carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers, tbd

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v, part vi, part vii. part viii, part ix, tbd. author's note: I reached over 200 followers on here, and wanted to celebrate that by sharing some extra content with you all. There's a few bonus scenes I've written out, all from Lando's pov in this fic, of which this is the first instalment. Hope you enjoy getting to see a bit more of him!

January: Final Australian Open, 2025 It’s fine, Lando tells himself. You’re 3-5 behind in games in the deciding set, but it’s totally fine. He has faith in you. This is your moment, he’s just being a good friend by attending the final. A sports enthusiast. That’s all there is to it. He’s not freaking out on your behalf, and he certainly will not let the cameras see just how invested he is.

Except he’s half hiding behind his hands as he watches you fight for each point. He can’t help the yell that escapes him when you make it back to advantage, and hold onto your serve, bringing you back to 5-4. But now it’s up to Coco Gauff. The problem is that you’re friends off court, he knows that you train together quite often. It means you know each other’s strengths – but also each other’s weaknesses.

He grimaces, as Coco moves to serve for the championship. Lando really wants you to win. He needs you to win. Because he wants to see that blinding smile on your face, the euphoria of having beaten the best – he knows that feeling all too well.

“Come on, Y/N,” Max mutters from where he’s seated next to Lando. He had allowed himself to be dragged along, even though tennis wasn’t necessarily his favourite sport. He’d learned to embrace it the moment it became clear that you were going to be a part of Lando’s life moving forward.

When you hit a powerful return, putting yourself back in the race, Lando cheers loudly along with the rest of the crowd. He’s trying to be respectful, doesn’t want to embarrass you by being an overzealous supporter. Doesn't want the attention to be on him, anyways. At the same time, he wants you to know that he is your biggest supporter. You hadn’t looked at the player’s box once. He’d seen you search for the coach pod briefly, midway through that first devastating set – but that had been it. He wonders what it'd be like to drive without having constant radio access to his team.

Coco serves, and it’s an ace. You force an error, and you’re back to deuce. Lando marvels at the mental strength you must have in order to deal with the pressure. Knows how difficult it is to stay in the moment, to not let your own brain run away with you. Weirdly, it's almost harder to do so now that it's not about him, but someone else. He groans when Coco gets advantage. She can finish the job, and yet there you stand. So composed, ready to return as if it’s any other point.

“I can’t watch,” he mumbles and squeezes his eyes shut as Coco serves. Max whistles next to Lando, and the crowd roars, because it’s not over. “Fuck yeah, she’s fucking fantastic!”

He grins, opens one eye to look at the scoreboard. Deuce again. Coco’s first serve gets called out, and her second touches the net. It’s advantage for you. Lando takes another sip of his drink, and slides his sunglasses back in his hair. “Just one more,” he pleads quietly. One more, and the match is all open again. One more, and you might turn it around.

His fingers dig into his thigh, trying desperately to ground himself as he obsessively watches the ball bounce back and forth between you and Coco. It’s a long rally, and as beautiful as it is, Lando gets more and more impatient. Until your ball passes Coco, perfectly placed in the outer corner of the field.

It’s 5-5, and for the first time Lando can see your shoulders relax ever so slightly, your fist balling to celebrate the point. Of course, the crowd goes wild – they’re getting their money’s worth. The umpire is less pleased with the noise, quickly asking everyone to quiet down before letting the match continue.

You hold your serve with ease, and Lando reminds himself to breathe. Reminds himself that it’s fine. That he is absolutely fine. Max smirks and leans in. “Mate, you’re sweating more than she is.”

“Stop,” he hisses, looking over at where Y/N’s family is sitting just two rows down. He’s only met them a few times, and Lando wants them to continue to like him. It’s the first time he got to sit so close to them – in the actual player’s box. “I brought you along as moral support, not to embarrass me.”

“Embarrassing you in hopes of getting you to lighten up is my form of moral support,” Max teases, but wisely shuts up when the umpire signals for Y/N and Coco to take their spots again.

“So tell me again, if Coco wins this game, then they move to a super tie-break?” 

Lando knows his friend is only asking to distract him and not because he genuinely doesn’t know the rules. But it doesn’t matter, because he will take what he can get. It’s deuce again. Only this time, it’s you that’s two points away from victory. With a grunt and a particularly powerful return, you’ve got a championship point to capitalise on. It takes everything in him not to scream when you slide across the field and seem to sprain your ankle. But then you’re standing again, gritting your teeth and fighting to gain back the point you’ve lost.

It takes another two attempts, and all of a sudden it’s like everything else fades away. All of the noise, everyone who’s in the audience – all Lando can see, hear, and focus on is you as you let yourself fall onto the court for a brief moment. Because you did it. You just won the Australian Open. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, celebrating with Max before turning to your other friends and family in the box.

His eyes never leave you, though. Lando watches you hug Coco, and shake hands with the umpire, line judges, and ball kids. He sees all the pent-up emotion finally find its way out as you wave to the audience, then go up to your coach Kim with tears in your eyes. He’s smiling so hard that it almost hurts his cheeks, just happy to watch you succeed. He doesn’t even care that Max is taking photos of him, or the fact that there’s probably a camera somewhere that’s zeroed in on his reaction. Because he doesn’t want to hide just how much he cares for his best friend.

And then you close in on the player’s box, climbing up and into the stands to hug your parents. Lando stills, unsure of what to do here. So he waits and wrings his hands together as he looks on while you greet everyone. “Congratulations, Y/N!” Max yells, and just like that, your eyes are on Lando. He can’t help but mirror the way in which your smile widens, or how he closes his eyes when he finally gets to hold you tight and squeeze your sides. “You did it!” He tells you, and tries to keep the feelings that threaten to overwhelm him in check. “I’m so proud of you, so happy for you!” He kisses your cheek, because he needs to do something aside from hugging to convey just how elated he is for you.

“Thank you for being here,” you whisper. “It means the world to me.”

Your hand lingers on his arm as you move to give Max a quick hug, and then you’re gone – back down to the court to change and receive your trophy.

“Might want to tone down that boyfriend blush,” Max states casually, as he nudges Lando’s side.

“I’m not blushing, and I’m not her boyfriend,” Lando immediately insists for the umpteenth time, rolling his eyes like he's done in the past.  

Max snorts. “For your dignity, I’ll pretend to believe you, but I’m just saying - you’re really not helping your case.”

Next Won't Say I'm In Love instalment will be a regular series update, but hope you enjoyed this extra little bit :)

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012

[mariacallous]

The “deep state” is a top-tier conservative bogeyman, right up there with DEI and George Soros. But it seems fair to ask: If a bunch of shadowy, unelected figures, many with shared business interests and connections, took over government functions at the highest levels and directly contravened the will of Congress, what might you call that? How about … DOGE?

After years of alarm over unelected bureaucrats pulling the strings, what better example can you find than this moment the US government is in? DOGE is the thing it claims to fear the most. Elon Musk is the problem he purportedly wants to solve.

Secretive? The so-called Department of Government Efficiency has never provided an org chart, did not have a publicly documented leader until last week, and refused to reveal the identities of its young staffers in early internal meetings. Check.

Unelected? Self-evidently so. Check.

A web of connected interests outside of government? DOGE is inarguably the Elon Musk extended universe. Current and former employees from X, SpaceX, the Boring Company, and Tesla currently control or are deeply embedded in countless government agencies, including the ones they’re ostensibly regulated by. (How many of them? Hard to say exactly, so score another point for “secretive.”) In fairness, some DOGE staffers appear to have no prior affiliation beyond an apparent zeal for dismantling the US government. But otherwise … Check.

And this is all in service of an agenda set not by Congress but by the world’s richest man. Look no further than DOGE’s deep freeze of the legally mandated Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, the unilateral canceling of around 10,000 humanitarian aid contracts apportioned by Congress, or the firing of thousands of probationary workers and others—without apparent cause—for evidence that it is executing an agenda outside of any legislative framework. Check, check, check.

It’s true that “deep state” is a tricky term to pin down, largely because it’s so often used as shorthand for “things Glenn Beck doesn’t like.” Let’s look, then, at how Elon Musk defines it.

“If there's not a good feedback loop from the people to the government, and if you have rule of the bureaucrat, if the bureaucracy is in charge, then what meaning does democracy actually have,” Musk said at a recent Oval Office visit. And then, moments later: “We have this unelected, fourth unconstitutional branch of government, which is the bureaucracy, which has, in a lot of ways, currently more power than any elected representative. This is … This is not something that people want, and it does not match the will of the people.”

Sounds bad. Also sounds like DOGE. This is the same unelected Elon Musk that met yesterday with GOP senators and representatives desperate for a say in where the DOGE wrecking ball heads next. Musk reportedly claimed that agency heads were the ones doing the firing, not DOGE. But who do you think installed most of those leaders? Who told them to cut until they hit bone? It was a bald demonstration of power. Musk has it. Elected representatives do not. DOGE is the bureaucracy it came to destroy.

(Small point of order: Musk is both head of DOGE and not head of DOGE, depending on who you ask and what’s legally more convenient at the time. They’re really running up the scoreboard on the secrecy thing.)

Or maybe we should look to a neutral party. FBI director Kash Patel is not himself a member of DOGE, and he literally published a whole book about the deep state just two years ago. “It is worthwhile to be very clear who we are talking about,” Patel writes in Government Gangsters, and yes that is the actual name of the current FBI director’s recent book, “because the Deep State likes to operate in the shadows using arcane bureaucracy, opaque legal minutia, hidden levers of power, and insider political gamesmanship largely unfamiliar to the American public.”

Concerning. Also? DOGE. The agency has subsumed the most arcane corners of US bureaucracy to launch its incursions. To justify its firing spree it has attempted to draw legal distinctions so opaque, so minute, that it was recently reprimanded in court. It used an exemption intended to help onboard disabled workers faster to install SpaceX employees at the Federal Aviation Administration before anyone knew it was happening.

The only thing missing is gamesmanship, because DOGE is the kind of guy that plays Jenga with a hammer.

Or if you need a more precise definition, let history be a guide. The term “deep state” has its roots not in drive-time talk radio but in 1970s Turkey, where a bunch of unelected officials seized power within political structures.

“It is a phrase that generally refers to a kind of shadow or parallel system of government in which unofficial or publicly unacknowledged individuals play important roles in defining and implementing state policy,” writes historian Ryan Gingeras in Last Rites for a ‘Pure Bandit’: Clandestine Service, Historiography, and the Origins of the Turkish ‘Deep State’. In Turkey, those shadows were cast primarily by military figures, not juvenile technocrats, but you get the point.

There are signs, at least, that people are beginning to see DOGE for what it is. Republicans have faced loud protests in town halls, even in deep red districts. It’s gotten so bad that GOP House members have been told to stop meeting with constituents in person. The Supreme Court has handed the agency its first major defeat at that level of the judiciary. Improperly fired workers are starting to return to their jobs.

“Deep state is limited,” writes Patel. “It depends on a lot of people either having no idea what’s going on or being led to believe that what the Deep State is doing is actually good. When those people stop listening, the Deep State starts to lose control.”

The impacts of DOGE’s cuts are increasingly impossible to ignore, or to confuse with any greater good. Whether DOGE loses control will depend, though, on if anyone in power can see that it’s the very thing they’ve warned against. Or if they can bring themselves to care.

[mars101]

|| %# ⌨️ ! ! 🗯 behind the encore -> masterlist

☆ PAIRING/S = idol! minjae x idol! reader

☆ GENRE = smau, fluff, s2l

☆ WARNINGS = league of legends is a major thing here.., brain rot, i took idols and put them into a made up group,

☆ SYNOPSIS = y/n and flirting. when mixed together, it's something her members do not believe is a good idea.. especially when she decides to wink at a guy during the encore stage of inkigayo.

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★ STATUS = on-going

★ RELEASE DATE = 03/06/2025 - ???

★ AUTHOR’S NOTE = me when i have an excuse to go back to league 😍😍😍 okay but guys i promise this isn't loserish 🙏🙏 only a tiny bit..

★ DISCLAIMER = knowledge of league isn't needed (???) and obviously, the idols will not be portrayed as they are irl bc we don't know them personally obviously !

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Installation:

Player One: ECLIPSE

Player Two: XIKERS

Player Three: OTHER

Tutorial:

How to play.

How NOT to play.

Iron:

Iron II - who is this??

Iron IV - no need for dating ban

Bronze:

Bronze II - do you think it'll be weird if i sniff him?

Bronze IV - eyes opened

Silver:

Silver II - dust in her eye

Silver IV - open those eyes to reality 💀

Gold:

Gold II - kprofiles isn't helping

Gold IV - why would a man be there??

Platinum:

Platinum II - wingman moves

Platinum IV - heyyyy (i feel like throwing up)

Emerald:

Emerald II - you're on support??

Emerald IV - you me will go date go?

Diamond:

Diamond II - suffering from studio sickness

Diamond IV - head over heels

Master:

Top 500 - capital letters and proper grammar

Top 100 - lyn got game

Grandmaster:

Top 100 - doesnt even know his own company 💀

Top 50 - stupid giggles in the bunkbed

Challenger:

Top 50 - this is like a promposal

Top 5 - safe to say we made it

The Lobby:

Scoreboard - really close friends

Ready Up? - i quit

☆★☆ TAGLIST (open btw): @/kflixnet, @/boomhoon, @/sanasour, @/loonaluvz

[bearterritory]

Golden Bears Top Wolf Pack, 8-3

BERKELEY, Calif. – After the announcement that the University would break ground on a renovated softball facility at the conclusion of this season, the California softball team (26-8) earned an 8-3 victory over Nevada (28-10) at Levine-Fricke Field in Berkeley, California.   The Golden Bears totaled 11 hits, eight walks, four stolen bases and three doubles. Acacia Anders went 3-of-3 on the day with three RBIs and two doubles.   After taking a 1-0 lead after the first inning, Cal put six runs on the board in the bottom of the second to take a commanding lead. With the bases loaded, Lagi Quiroga knocked in a base hit to score a runner. In the next at-bat, Elon Butler reached on a fielder's choice, allowing another runner to cross home plate. Acacia Anders found the gap in center field for a two-RBI single to extend the lead. Tianna Bell followed with an RBI double to left field. Mia Phillips added the final run of the frame with a base hit to give the Bears a 7-1 advantage.   In the third inning, the Wolf Pack finally added a run on the board due to an RBI double from Matlyn Leetch. The Bears responded in the bottom of the frame after Anders reached first after being hit by a pitch with the bases loaded, giving the Bears an 8-1 lead.   Nevada added two runs in the sixth inning after a two-run home run by Aaliyah Jenkins but couldn't overcome its deficit as the Bears sealed the victory.   Annabel Teperson earned her third win of the season after pitching five innings with two strikeouts.

Softball Facility Renovations

The renovation is expected to begin soon after Cal's final home game of the 2025 season on April 27 and is estimated to take 16-18 months to complete. The Golden Bears are expected to resume playing at the Cal Softball Field to begin the 2027 season.  

Among the highlights of the upgraded facility:

A 30,500 square foot, two-story precast concrete structure that will house the bullpen, concourse and press box behind home plate

1,511 permanent seats on the new concourse that extends out and surrounds the field

8,500 square feet of enclosed spaces, including locker rooms, a press box, lounges and a training room

An LED scoreboard display (approximately 35x20 feet) installed in the outfield that will face spectator seating to the southwest

New fine-grained aggregate material in the infield

Synthetic turf in the outfield (replacing existing grass)

"This move is monumental for our program," Cal head coach Chelsea Spencer said. "Our new facility will allow our student-athletes to continue to have a world-class experience while competing at the highest level. Cal is the No. 1 public institution in the world, and having what we believe will be the premier facility on the West Coast, will make us a top destination for prospective student-athletes. We are grateful and very excited to break ground."

Cal's softball program is one of the most successful in the nation, having made 12 appearances in the Women's College World Series and securing 34 NCAA Tournament berths. The Bears won the NCAA championship in 2002.

[idleinstagram]

soyeon instagram update

My loves Nebobo 🐹❤️💕 The iDOL tour that started in August has finally ended! It seems like only yesterday that I was worried about what kind of setlist to make so that everyone could have fun from beginning to end, what kind of arrangement to make so that everyone can say that they've had a good day, what kind of solos to do, what kind of concepts to do, but it seems like it passed by so quickly haha 😂😂 I feel relieved but I'm also sad that there'll be no concerts next week 🥲 Forom our first tour. where there weren't even any scoreboards, our concert halls are now getting bigger and bigger! The sets that can be installed! There are more things to show, and thanks to the ever-increasing number of Neverbers, every concert was touching 😘🤩 Thank you, thank you again 💕 I was inspired a lot by Nebobo, the members, and each city during this tour, and I'm looking forward to the next tour even more! Next time, I'll go meet all the Nebobo that I couldn't meet this time!!! I love you so much 🐹❤️💕 See you again never ever!! 💋💋

[snapthistiger]

exercise 01282025

bike ride to the gym

3 x 10 lat pull

3 x 6 dips

3 x 10 tricep press

3 x 10 row

3 x 10 overhead press

45 minute spin class

6 x 5 seated press

bike ride to McD for breakfast and back to the gym

worked lifeguard job 10a to 2p

bike ride to the funeral home and then home

the gym workers received Hershey kisses

work went well. watched swimmers and water yoga class most of the time

middle left = 1st spin class for substitute instructor. she did well and welcomed our input on exercises we usually do

middle right = water yoga class. they did great and no one fell in the water

bottom = new scoreboard installed in the natatorium. it is connected to a computer and functions like a large computer display

stopped by the funeral home to sign some papers. one of my sisters wants both of our parent's vehicles so the funeral home helped us with transferring the title of each vehicle

going to visit my sisters this evening. youngest sister and her family fly back to Pittsburgh area tomorrow morning

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

[blacktofade]

Wrote a little ethubs ficlet for @going-to-the-sun because they made the most emotionally devastating video for me ;__;

The prompt they gave was: Something based on Decked Out 2, like maybe hurt/comfort, treating injuries. Or competitiveness in the dungeon carries that over into personal time.

Contains a lil blood and some smooches.

--

“Oh,” Bdubs says dejectedly, “it’s you.”

There isn’t supposed to be anyone outside the dungeon door when he leaves, but of course Etho is sitting there, beside the scoreboard, waiting.

Etho looks over, brows pulling together after a moment as his gaze rakes down Bdubs’ body.

“What happened?” he asks and Bdubs doesn’t pause, heading around the corner, down the stairs, needing the safety of his locker room.

“Me and a ravager didn't exactly see eye to eye.”

“Well, yeah,” Etho says with a huff of laughter, already following after him, and Bdubs knows what's coming, the rest of the joke.

“Don't,” Bdubs warns, not in the mood to be kicked by a short joke while he’s already down, and Etho actually listens.

“Okay,” he agrees without fuss and somehow that's worse. He hates it when Etho doesn't know when to fight him, when to push him and make him really mad.

He drops his items into his shulker, too tired to even think about organizing it, and he knows Etho’s hovering in the doorway, probably wondering what he should say instead.

Bdubs wishes he wouldn’t.

“What?” he barks, turning on him, and Etho looks surprised, not seeming to expect Bdubs to ever direct his frustration toward him. “Did you want something?”

“You’re bleeding,” Etho says, not an answer and Bdubs wipes a hand under his nose and regrets not installing a door to keep people out.

He knows he’s bleeding. He’s respawned too much, too quickly, and his older wounds are opening back up.

“It’s fine.”

It’s not. He hurts all over to the point where he’s starting to tremble.

He sets down his bed and sits on the edge of it, angled away from Etho because that’s easier.

He can practically feel Etho’s uncertainty filling the space around them, even hears the click of his throat when he swallows.

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“You think?” Bdubs retorts, nothing but sarcasm, shoulders tensed up around his ears, aching along with the rest of his body now.

He stares down at his hands, the way they’re clenched up on his knees, knuckles white, and he knows he’s not being fair. But nothing about life is fair and it’s not his job to try to fix that.

He shuts his eyes and draws in a slow breath, and after a long moment, the mattress dips beside him.

He doesn’t look over, but there’s a warmth all along his left side, and when he opens his eyes, Etho’s knee is almost close enough to touch his own.

Etho doesn’t say a word and Bdubs isn’t ready to give in yet so he keeps his mouth shut too.

The silence between them isn’t as uncomfortable as it probably should be. Etho knows him — they’ve had years together, learning each other.

Finally, Etho’s knee nudges against him.

"Let me see," Etho says, voice quiet, and Bdubs doesn’t want to listen to him, but he can only ever do what Etho tells him. It’s a bad habit he can’t kick.

Bdubs lifts his head and turns to look at him.

It's not pity in Etho's eyes, which is good because Bdubs doesn't think he could stand that. It's more of a quiet resignation that this is who Bdubs is. This is who Bdubs will always be.

Etho tilts his head, the gesture of a thousand unspoken questions, and he raises his hand to touch Bdubs’ face, his thumb pressing to the bruise that’s under Bdubs’ left eye.

The skin is tender, but the heat from Etho’s skin feels good.

After a moment, it shifts and traces down the line of Bdubs’ nose instead.

“Did it get broken?” Etho asks, a stupid, obvious question, but Bdubs nods.

It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last either.

“It’s fine,” Bdubs grunts because it is, but Etho still thumbs at the bridge, as though trying to check for himself.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Bdubs lies, and Etho stops touching it, like he knows.

Instead, Etho’s hand shifts down to hold his chin, tilting Bdubs’ head back as he brings his other arm up, using his own sleeve to wipe at the blood that’s sluggishly dripping across his mouth.

“Etho,” Bdubs complains, muffled, not that it does any good because Etho doesn’t stop.

He works methodically, cleaning Bdubs’ face with gentle wipes, turning Bdubs’ head this way and that as though to check his handiwork.

Bdubs watches him, staring at the dent between his eyes where he’s frowning as he concentrates, kind of wanting to trace his fingers over it.

"What’s the prognosis, doc?" he tries, and Etho meets his gaze, face shifting as though he might be smiling.

"Terminal," he jokes and Bdubs shuts his eyes and takes a breath.

“Etho.”

Despite all of Bdubs’ frustration, all the ways he’s trying to shut Etho out, Etho’s still trying to make him laugh.

Bdubs shifts, moving his head out of Etho's grasp, but Etho reaches out for him again, holding him steady.

“The dungeon is meant to be difficult,” Etho tells him, holding his gaze.

“Easy for you to say,” Bdubs grumbles. “You’re not losing.”

“You’re not losing either.”

Bdubs snorts. “Maybe you’re the one who's been hit by ravagers too many times, ‘cause I’m definitely losing. You won’t hurt my feelings by being honest.”

Etho hesitates, hand shifting against Bdubs’ jaw. “Okay,” he agrees. “Maybe you’re losing.”

Bdubs laughs before he can stop himself and Etho’s eyes crinkle as though pleased with himself.

“Take a break,” Etho tells him again. “Come back another day and I’ll help you.”

Bdubs blows out a breath, a half-scoff. “What, you gonna give me some top Etho tips?”

“Is that what you want?” Etho asks, laughter in his voice, and Bdubs bats his hand away from his face.

“No, it’s absolutely not what I want.”

Etho laughs outright and Bdubs finds himself shifting his knee sideways to nudge against him.

He doesn’t apologize for his anger. Etho wouldn’t accept it anyway.

Instead, Bdubs reaches over, tucking a finger into the top of Etho’s mask and pulling it down. Etho doesn’t fight it and Bdubs doesn’t fight the voice in his head that tells him it’s a bad idea.

He leans in, tilting his head just enough to find Etho’s mouth with his own, and even his nose pressing painfully against Etho’s face doesn’t deter him.

Etho freezes against him for a long beat, then another, before finally reaching for Bdubs again, sliding a hand to the base of his head to hold him steady, mouth eager in response.

Bdubs feels a crazed kind of laugh bubble up through his chest. There’s no stopping it once it starts, and it slips out, disappearing between Etho’s lips, chased closely by his tongue.

He feels the way Etho smiles, feels the vibration of his laugh buzzing against his mouth in return and it’s addictive.

He pulls back with a hiccuped breath, gaze darting around Etho’s face, enjoying the wet sheen of his mouth and the ruddy pink of his flushed skin.

“Adrenaline is one hell of a thing, huh?” Bdubs says with a half laugh and Etho offers a crooked smile in return.

“I might prefer this part to you being mad at me.”

“Is that right?”

There’s a smear of blood against Etho’s cheek, like maybe Bdubs’ nose is still bleeding, and Etho shifts his hand, thumb swiping above his top lip.

“Don’t do another run today,” Etho says, tone light, but Bdubs can read the concern between the lines.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks and Etho watches him, assessing.

After a moment, he leans back in, mouth soft against Bdubs’ own and to be honest, he makes a good argument.

Bdubs exhales slowly through his nose.

"Okay," he agrees, and kisses Etho back.

[planet-of-the-machines]

A Rude Awakening (attempt #2)

“Oh look, it’s the try-hard.”

“Team leader? More like a stubborn girlfailure who doesn’t know when to quit.”

“You say your teammates are worthless? Maybe you should look in the mirror, J.”

“…and here you are, leading the lowest team on the scoreboard for 8 years in a row–”

“All I see in front of me are a spineless loser, a feral beast, and a spoilsport with delusions of grandeur.”

“Maybe if you stopped trying to look so professional, you’d be killing more than a handful of drones per quarter—”

PAINFUL MEMORY REMIX.MP3 DETECTED

(PLS GET A LIFE)

REBOOTING…

*The moment J woke up, she was met by the same metal ceiling as the past... month? She hadn't really been keeping track of time.  Alarms were blaring on her interface. One, Transformation cog status: CRITICAL DAMAGED SUSTAINED; WEAPONS AND FLIGHT LOCKED, was nothing new. Somehow, that undersized Heavy Drone managed to impale her and damage this vital organ, with a branded pen! However, there was something new that she didn’t remember being there: UNAUTHORIZED MODIFICATIONS DETECTED. 

J: “wha… Sweet mother of… annual… profits…”

*It wasn’t a minute after she rebooted when the door to her cell opened. In came some Elite Guardsmen, one of whom being Darkwing, alongside someone J was quite familiar with.*

J: “…well, if it isn’t the local king of the scrapyard. Here to finally give up your worthless life?”

Prowl: *not taking this bullshit* “Save your rants, J. I’ve just returned to duty and I don’t have time for your presentations. We need to talk.” 

*One of the guards proceeds to angle the table the disassembler is bound to about 70 degrees, so that J can face the Elite Guardsman directly.*

J: “I told you, I’m not leaking any memorandums, you barely-functioning washing machine!”

Prowl: *flatly* “I knew that. You’ve told me over 34 times before I was put on mandatory sick leave.”

J: “Tch, typical heavy drone behavior. You may think you’ve won–” [[Most Badass Threat.mp3 “–but when corporate inevitably comes to bail me and my team out, there will be nothing left of this outpost but a sinkhole. That I can guarantee. By the way, I’m getting an unauthorized mod notification. Do you have anything to do with that?”

Prowl: “If your masters wanted to rescue you and your friends, they would’ve done that long ago. Besides, your teammates don’t seem to mind living here that much.” 

J: *frowns* “N’s a synergistic liability. Of course he likes it here. V knows better than to–” 

Prowl: *folds his arms* “V tried to deceive a fake face-heel turn less than two weeks ago, J. Of course, that turned out to be a trap by some unhappy schoolgirls going through a revenge arc… one of whom is in a cell right now because they wound up killing half their grade…” *rolls eyelights* “More importantly, my nephew is keeping an eye on her in case she tries something again.”

J: *a mixture of stupefied, flustered, and confused* “Wha– no. No!” *shakes her head in refutation* “V wouldn’t try that, not by herself. She’d never do something like that without telling me first.”

Prowl: “Well, that’s what happened. Regarding your modifications, We did that for two reasons. For one, you were taking too much oil to keep you from overheating to death. So, while I was out, Strongarm asked Dr. Ratchet to install a Worker Drone heat sink and rework your circulation system so you won’t need as much… or need to kill anyone. I can see he also made it so your actual hands are showing instead of those blades.” 

J: “What? That’s—” *loses her temper, her eyelights turning a pinkish-red* “That's an extreme violation of the rules of conduct!!! Equity partnership, you can’t just move me to a lower job position!!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO MY WORK!?!?!?!?!?”

Prowl: *calm, matter-of-factly* “Simple: you don’t.” *she freezes up, sweat drops appearing on her visor* “Which brings me to the other reason. In short, you’re being integrated into our outpost.” 

*J’s eyelights hollow and switch back to their original yellow color. As the following speech plays out, her expression becomes increasingly horrified.* 

Prowl: “We are putting you with your teammates in a class, because the Council does not trust you or them with any real jobs as of now. You are to learn of our customs, our way of living, and if I’m being honest, get rid of the corporate jargon in your vocabulary. If you prove yourself able to break whatever longstanding protocols you were built with, then maybe we will try to fix your cog.”

Darkwing: ““But don’t even think about using this to escape! We’ll make sure you’ll— AGH!”

*One of the other guards elbows their blue and purple HD companion, and he shuts up.*

Prowl: “Darkwing, please refrain from the theatrics.” *sighs* “Both of your teammates have given rather colorful descriptions about your relative loyalty to that goddamn company. As I’m sure you can tell, you are currently unable to fly or deploy your weapons– especially that virus pike –without skilled medical intervention. In the event you somehow sneak your way past security and make it past the doors, you’re too far from JCJenson territory, wherever that may be, to safely walk home. We have snipers and an excellent tracker, all of whom are ready for you. Even if we lose track of you, going by what N has told us, It’s highly likely your company believes you’ve been too ‘corrupted by exposure to us,’ to quote your pet, to take you back alive. In short, you have no viable exit route. 

“You will cooperate when asked to, and you will see things from our perspective. For your own safety, do NOT cause trouble.”

*By now, steam is coming out of the sides of the disassembler’s head, and a red caution symbol has replaced her left eyelight.* 

J: “I… uh… organizational… restru–?”

*Her OS crashes, unable to comprehend the nightmarish scenario she’s in. J goes limp and a blue screen of death overtakes her visor, taking her out for another few hours.*

Guard 1: “Was… that really necessary, sir?”

Prowl: “Perhaps not. But at least it seems we’ve finally gotten through that thick firewall of hers. Now, what else has happened while I was out?”

*The head of Outpost 3’s share of the Elite Guard leaves, the three guards following behind him. As they did, they failed to notice two streams of oil leaking out from under J’s visor…*

[simspaghetti]

Generation 1 of the Piccolo Lepacy is complete!

I had a lot of fun in the beginning of this legacy, playing Poppy as a young-adult causing chaos around town was super fun & the challenge objectives were very enjoyable to complete - but as the challenge went on I started to get suuuper bored of the basegame, I think part of the problem is that my lifespan is so long and is normally structured by seasons, but since there are no seasons installed yet, each age stage felt never-ending!

It made me think that I might play around with the expansion packs in a different order than their release schedule... I just don't think I can wait so long to install seasons because it's so essential to the way I play - but that's TBD later (World Adventures is definitely next up!)

Anyway, I'll stop rambling, time to look at the scoreboard!

Grand Total Points: ✨55.5✨

Scoreboard: ⬇️

☑️ Start in Sunset Valley +2

Poppy Piccolo - Where Evil Grows [Criminal]: ☑️ Have the ’Evil’ and/or ’Mean Spirited’ trait +0.5 ☑️ Join the criminal career +0.5 ☑️ Have 1 ‘perfect’ child, neglect the rest +0.5 ☑️ Befriend child or have at least 5 friends +0.5 ☑️ Reach the top of the Criminal career [Thief Branch] +1 ➡️ Thief Branch: ☑️ Master Athletic skill +1 ☑️ Master Logic skill +1 ☑️ Befriend all coworkers +1 ☑️ Become best friends with co-worker +1 ☑️ Complete the LTW: ’Become a Master Thief’ +1

Torgo Pendragon - Sound of Da Police [Law Enforcement]: ☑️ Have the 'Schmoozer' or 'Athletic' Trait +0.5 ☑️ Join the Law Enforcement career +0.5 ☑️ Install a burglar alarm +0.5 ☑️ Befriend all coworkers +0.5 ☑️ Reach the top of the law enforcement career +1 ➡️ International Super Spy Branch: ☑️ Master the Athletic Skill +1 ☑️ Master the Logic Skill +1 ☑️ Become best friends with coworker or boss +1 ☑️ Fight a burglar and win +1

Bonus Goals: ☑️ Woohoo with a service sim +1 ☑️ Marry a service sim +1 ☑️ Get a child with hidden trait +1 ☑️ Resurrect sim (create ambrosia) OR create playable ghost +1 ☑️ Have a ghost baby (or many) +1

Misc. Points: ☑️ Heir tops career (x2) +4 ☑️ Heir completing their LTW (x2) +5 ☑️ Heir mastered a non-required skill (x2) +1 ☑️ Heir completes a skill challenge (x8) +1 ☑️ Heir having more than 2 children (x2): +1 per child ☑️ Forcibly receiving a random trait on age-up (x1) -0.5

Rainbowcy Points: ☑️ Keep a portrait room with each heir’s portrait hanging in it (x1) +1 per heir ☑️ Founder with multicoloured parts +1 per eyes, skin tone, hair, make-up, clothes

[sportsequipmentsupplies]

Sports Hall Installations | Basketball Goals Scoreboards

SES supplies and installs all manner of Basketball Goals Scoreboards including electric roof mounted goals, wall mounted side folding matchplay and practice goals, height adjustable goals as well as “backstop” portable units. 

Visit More Website: https://www.sportsequipmentsupplies.com/product-category/sports-hall-installations/basketball-goals/

[cinewhore]

Starfish

pairing: Doug Renetti x fem!reader word count: 4k warnings: fluff, angst, smut: vaginal penetration, cumshot a/n: in a minx mood! I just finished the second season and fell in love with the characters again. Folks have also been asking me about this so I guess this can live on here again. no beta and this is kind of old lolz. Enjoy & give credits to the gif creators!

Popping your grape flavored gum, your eyes fly across the screen of the game you were currently engrossed in, hips swaying back and forth to KC & The Sunshine Band “Get Down Tonight”.  You came to the Hot Spot bar often, checking the high score of space invaders. You were the top player of the famed game ever since Charlie installed it and he always made sure to tuck away tokens for you whenever you showed up. 

It wasn’t your thing, playing video games. With the increase of working days and a higher demand for adult content, you were always looking to blow off steam that wasn’t sex related. You drunkenly stumbled upon the flashy box and were hooked. 

“C’mon, you piece of shit, eat my dust!” you mutter, tongue poking out a bit as your concentration deepens. The colored aliens jump around, narrowly avoiding your blazing ray gun. You weren’t going down without a fight and with a quick flip of your wrist, the last three aliens on your screen were blasted to hell. The machine dings as NEW HIGH SCORE appears, prompting you to input your initials for the scoreboard. You continue to hum to the song, jerking the joystick around the alphabet to claim your rightful throne. 

F.U.K

“Whew momma, I’d know those hips anywhere.” 

You bite a smile as you finish your gaming session, tossing your purse back over your shoulder. Turning around, you come face to face with Doug Renetti. He holds up two shot glasses filled with brown liquor, shaking them a bit to entice you. 

“You’re late.” 

Doug laughs and it pings your heart. You hated how much you liked to hear his laughter. 

“What can I say, I’m a busy guy.” 

You permit the rugged looking man to escort you to a booth, sliding in across from him and accepting the drink. 

“Too busy for me even? Wow!” you joke, signaling to the bartender for another round. 

“Never too busy for my favorite girl.” Doug flashes you a smile, dazzling you with his pearly whites. You bite your lip and lean back against the plush seat. 

“You go to work today?” 

Doug nods, thanking the waitress for the new set of drinks. “Yeah. I, uh, actually got this new magazine in the works. It’s gonna be big, I can feel it.” 

“So I heard.” 

Doug raises an eyebrow, massaging his sharp nose. “Oh yeah? Tony keeping tabs on me now?” 

You let out a nervous chuckle, rolling your eyes. Tony was always a sore subject of conversation. Your current boss, Tony Delgatto owned one of the biggest adult production companies in L.A. Tony and Doug started in the industry together but lines were crossed and the two went their separate ways. Tony and Doug both refuse to discuss what exactly happened between them and you knew better than to ask. Something about men with their dicks and egos. 

“No, the porn industry is just very small. Word travels fast.” you shrug but Doug wasn’t buying it. 

“How much did Bambi tell you?” 

You giggle into your glass. “Everything.” 

Doug groans. “She never stops talking, that Bambi.” 

“We go to the same hair salon! What else are we supposed to talk about, the weather?” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice for a change.” 

You scoff. “Oh, geez, maybe next time I’ll lead off with a: Hi Bambi, how’s the weather today? Oh! It’s mid-70s? Again? Someone call the press!”

“Yeah, alright. I get it.” 

A moment of silence passes by and you know exactly where this is going. 

“The offer still stands-” 

“Doug! Can we not do this today?” 

Doug’s face softens, his normal joking demeanor changing into something serious. “You’re a goddamn sex symbol and instead of becoming a household name, you’re wasting potential by showing your ass on a calendar spread where February has thirty days in it!” 

“Hey! Gertrude apologized for that and got new ones printed.” 

Doug sighs. “What I’m saying is that I can take good care of ya and present you to the world in the right way. You need to be on magazine covers, video tapes, television, not that other shit.” 

You clear your throat, gazing down at your hands in your lap. Doug was right. He tends to be, having done this for such a long time. Even as a high school dropout, Doug always felt that he was smarter than any test could prove. His business started off a tad rocky but once both of his feet were planted firmly on the ground, it took off. You always teased that he was hiding all his secrets in his hair. 

“I know my worth,” you assert. “And I’ve been working with Tony for years, if I just up and left for his biggest competitor he’d blackball me before I even left the parking lot.” 

Doug downs his drink. “Yeah….maybe.” He takes in your sullen expression. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, let me make it up to you.” 

You give him a half smirk. “Oh yeah? And just how do you plan to do that, Douglas?” 

The walls to the single stall squeal as you get fucked against it, holding onto Doug for dear life. You were happy that you decided to wear a dress for the occasion, forgoing the bright colored tights due to the warm weather. Your underwear was currently dangling off of your right foot, legs thrown across Doug’s arms. 

“Now this,” Doug grunts, shifting his angle and hitting a deeper spot that made you cry out. “Is some grade-A pussy.” 

You laugh breathlessly. “Don’t you fucking forget it, sweetheart.” you grab a handful of his hair, tugging on it hard to spur him on further. 

The bass of the music playing seeps into the restroom, helping to conceal the moaning you were doing. Doug licks at your throat, analyzing your facial expressions. Even though you were a performer, he could tell from certain ticks that this wasn’t an act. Doug knew how to fuck you good and he was cocky about it. Some days he took it for granted but today he wanted to savor the moment, he wanted to make you unravel as many times as he possibly could. 

Creeping over to the sink, Doug sets you down and flips you over, spreading your legs with his foot. He doesn’t warn you as he enters you again, slowing down his pace in order to catch his breath. 

Your eyes meet in the mirror and you grin, eyes half open. He towers over you and tugs at the front of your dress, yanking it down enough to release your breasts. Doug kneads your tits, fingers pulling at your nipple. You whine, arching your back more. 

“I’m a pretty girl, say it.” 

Your eyes open all the way as you stare at Doug who doesn’t skip a beat. 

“Say it or I swear to God I’ll stop.” 

He thrust forward more harshly and you shuffle your feet around to accommodate him more. 

“I’m-oh-I’m a-” 

Doug smacks your ass. “Eyes on me when you say it.” 

You force yourself to glance at Doug. “I’m a pretty girl.” 

Doug nods. “Again.”

“I’m a pretty girl.”

He grabs your neck, pulling you up straight against his chest. “The prettiest fucking girl with the best pussy, ain’t that right.” 

You mumble and whimper affirmations, losing yourself to an orgasm. “I’m comin’, Doug, please.” 

“Uh huh, honey, I’m not done with you yet.” 

Doug slips out and prompts you to sit on the sink, positioning himself in between your legs. You groan as he enters you again, your immense amount of wetness making it an easy process. 

You surge forward kiss Doug, licking into his mouth. Your tongues fight for domination, Doug devouring all of your soft moans. 

“You want my cum?” 

Your head bobbles as you say yes. 

“How much you want it?”

“Bad. I want you to cum so badly, Doug.” 

Doug pumps his cock into you a few more times before he pulls out, snatching the condom off. He jerks his shaft, gasping as he spills his seed across your open legs. 

He drops his head on your shoulder, arms locking around your hips. You take a hand and lace it through his hair, humming lowly as your body simmers down from its tiny spasms. 

“Come work for me. Please.” he utters, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders. 

“You know I don’t talk business with your dick out.” 

Doug laughs softly, leaving one last kiss on your cheek before he makes himself decent. You adjust your dress, thanking Doug when he hands you your panties. 

“Doug, you know I can’t work for you.” 

Doug stares off into the distance, nodding to himself. 

“Ok.” 

The whole Tony excuse was played out. You could give a rats ass what Tony thought, you were fucking scared of Doug. You were head over heels for your oldest friend in the city who you sometimes had sex with. Ok, so you had sex a lot but it wasn’t like he was asking you for more and you were happy not to enter that unknown territory. You didn’t want people to think that you were fucking him for special privleges. You didn’t want to admit your true feelings. You didn’t want to get hurt. Not by anyone but definitely not him. 

Doug goes to leave the restroom but stops himself, digging in his suit pocket. He produces a small velvet cloth bag, handing it to you. 

You grab it, looking at him confused. “What’s this?” 

He gestures for you to open it. You gasp openly, a hand flying to your mouth. Inside the bag was a silver starfish necklace. Simple and beautiful. 

Doug takes the necklace from you, fastening it around your neck. He admires the charm, touching it gently. “Saw it and couldn’t stop thinking about how much you would like it. Happy birthday.” 

Doug says nothing else as he leaves you alone in the bathroom, closing out his tab and exiting the bar. 

Tony hadn’t said anything to you all day. 

It was a tough business. Not the industry you’d thought you would be a part of when you first moved out west. You wanted to go to school for marine biology but your parents didn’t approve, saying that the money wasn’t there and you should do something more practical with your life. They agreed to let you go to L.A. but set a hard rule that they weren’t going to support you so you had to find a job while applying to schools. 

Balancing rent, tuition, books, and other bills proved to be too much so you took up a call girl job when an older woman you came across in a bar one night told you that you were wasting your pretty over the phone. 

“Film is where it’s hot, sweet cheeks.” she advised, handing you a business card for Tony. Doug offered to help but you turned him down, saying that phone sex was better because you didn’t want your image to be broadcasted everywhere. 

You weren’t exactly sure when your beliefs changed but talking sexy over the phone wasn’t putting food on your table. 

A Week Later.

You slip your sunglasses on top of your head, popping your gum noisily. You mosey up to the front desk of Bottom Dollar, smiling at the receptionist. The poor girl couldn’t get a word out before Bambi rushes past her, engulfing you in a tight hug. 

“I knew you would show up!” Bambi steps back, grabbing your hand and dragging you through the office. “Doug was adamant that you were not going to come but I just kept telling him that you’d end up here and here you are! My horoscope said that good things come to those who wait.” 

Bambi leads you into the photo area where Doug, Tina, and Richie were observing a new layout. They all turn when you enter with Bambi. Doug sits up straighter when he sees you, eyes zooming in on your neck. 

The necklace was still there. 

“Well would you look at what the cat brought in!” Bambi shrieks. 

You wave, surveying the scene. 

“You came.” Doug says, walking over to greet you with a hug. You hug him back, inhaling his familiar scent. 

“I heard you were struggling to stay afloat so I figured I’d offer a helping hand.” 

Doug chuckles and pulls you over to the table. “Oh really? Wonder where you heard that.” he side eyes Bambi. 

Gazing at the boards on the table, you whip your head up to look at Doug. “Is this for me?” 

Bambi holds up the layout for you to see it clearer. “I came up with the idea!” 

“Well, that’s half true.” Doug points to the board. “With the new magazine we got coming, it’s all about the female gaze. Intellect. What a better way to gain knowledge than having your own fun fact spread! We would feature you in every other issue and we’d use the space to feature fun trivia and facts about the ocean. We could even give some proceeds to a sealife charity of your choice.” 

Tears well up on your eyes as you gaze at Doug’s work. Setting down your purse, you shed off your jacket. 

“Where do I stand?” 

[eurovision-revisited]

Eurovision 2005: The Stage and Set Design

Surrounded by pillars of light and jutting forward into the crowd in the arena, you'd be forgiven for thinking that this year's stage in Palats Sportu was a grand affair. It's clear that NTU invested greatly in Eurovision this year including the host venue - despite the upheaval of the revolution. However looks can be deceptive.

The crowd size is around 5,000. This is roughly the same as 2002 and 2003. The area around the stage is not brightly lit, but just occasionally you can see how close the crowd are to it, and those shots give a sense of scale. It's actually pretty small.

The darkness surrounding the stage not only allows that size to be hidden, but also to show off the floor illuminated from below. There are LEDs on the pillars as well as size curved screens at the back from the stage - but these are still restricted to blocks of colour and screen-saver imagery of clouds.

The audience surround the stage on all sides and all of them have clear, unobstructed views of the stage. The darkness in which they sit is barely illuminated by some globular glowing balls on the strings which are capable of some fancy movements and choreography - enough for them to be a theme in the opening interval act for the semi-final - but when it comes to their abilities as lamps, they're not so great.

Pyro is again missing this year. There's some confetti at the end of the evening, but that's it. There's also a lack of any dry ice. These were elements not present in the original 1960s building and weren't installed in the Eurovision refit. There is however a wind machine.

On screen graphics are on a blue and green background, with simple white text in a rather blocky font reminiscent of the what futuristic text would have been imagined as when the Palace of Sports was being built. From the perspective of decades in the future, it looks even more dated that how it would have looked in 2005.

The need for a separate scoreboard screen is once again dispensed with on the main stage. The table for the EBU officials is subsumed by the audience. When it's time for Svante Stockelius to make his appearance, he's surrounded by Croatian fans mugging for the camera to his apparent dismay.

There's one major technical innovation this year. It's the first Eurovision to be broadcast in widescreen 16:9 format. The slogan for the year is 'Awakening', chosen to chime with Ukraine's emergence from the past into a European setting. The new Government hoped that Eurovision would not only boost Ukraine's tourist industry but also would serve as a demonstration to their intention to move towards EU membership and integration into the wider Eurovision project.

The green room, like last year is hidden away in the backrooms of the Palace of Sports. It looks fairly compact. Everyone is squeezed in together in a jamble of glitter, sofas, champagne glasses and flags.

When it's time for Helena to emerge from it to collect the trophies - more on that later - it's only a short distance but there's an intense scrum as she gets miked up while being harried by floor managers and security staff, as the two hosts vamp for all they're worth on stage. There doesn't appear to be much in the way of private space for the performers away from the dressing rooms.

The Executive Producers was Pavlo Grytsak, with Creative Director Mikhailo Ilko and Show Producer Tarmo Krimm

[scotianostra]

On 21st March 1925 Murrayfield Stadium, the home of Scottish Rugby was opened.

The first international match was held at Raeburn Place on the cricket field of the Edinburgh Academy in 1871 until the first rugby ground was built in Inverleith in 1879. It was not until 1922, following debate about moving the game to Hampden and the lease expiry at Inverleith, that a deal was accepted for the 19 acres of land belonging to the Edinburgh Polo Club.

Murrayfield officially opened its gates on March 21, 1925, with a match against England. Scotland beat the English 14-11, watched by thousands of spectators in the standing terraces.

In 1927, just two years after opening, the Scottish Rugby Union purchased additional land creating extra pitches and two stands alongside aiding transport with two bridges and a car park.

Due to the Scottish weather posing a threat to matches, in 1959 an electric blanket style cover was laid on the grounds to protect the soil from extreme weather conditions. This lasted for over 30 years but due to recurring maintenance problems was removed in 1991.

This heating method was replaced by a new gas-heated system with hot water pipes under the soil.

In 1981, a new stand was built at the east end of the stadium which was opened, with the expansion, two electronic scoreboards were installed for the first time.

The stadium was then revamped in 1994 at a cost of £50million with new stands and floodlighting increasing the capacity to 67,800. The stadium now holds 67,144 fans with the addition of the newly installed screens.

It’s interesting to see the aerial pics and the development of Murrayfield Stadium over almost a century.

[workingforitallthetime]

drawn arrows unseen

part 14 / previous installments/tags

After the trophy ceremony, after the locker room celebration, Mason takes a punishing shower, turning the water back and forth from scorching hot to bracing cold. Neither option’s going to do any good.

The MVP award he accepted an hour ago sits in his stall like a lead weight. He looks away from it as he puts on his suit, and he leaves it behind when he slips out of the locker room alone.

He makes his way down the tunnel back to the bench. The Zambonis have already been through and the ice gleams unmarked. Mason sits in the empty arena, staring up at the darkened scoreboard with his medal hanging heavy around his neck, and faces the unpleasant truth that he shouldn’t be here in the first place.

It was selfish to come to this tournament. Selfish to play with Connor, to sleep in his room, to drape his arm around Connor and notice how well he fits there. To do all of that without thinking whether it would have any impact on Connor. It’s Mason’s fault that Connor’s scenting him. It might even be his fault that Connor can scent him. What if he’s nudging Connor toward presenting, just by being there in Connor’s space smelling the way he smells and feeling the way he feels? Mason’s a huge problem, right when Connor can least afford it. He could massively fuck up Connor’s draft year. If Connor’s an omega, Mason doesn’t want to be the reason anyone finds out.

The floorboards creak under the rubber matting as Kent joins him on the bench. He sits next to him and follows Mason’s gaze up to the silent Jumbotron. The thud and clatter of the arena crew emptying trash bins echoes distantly from the concourse.

Finally, Kent speaks. “What are you going to do?”

“Fix it.” Maybe it’s not too late. The best Mason can do is train hard so he sticks in Anaheim. So there’s no question about missing world juniors in December. “Just… stay away.”

“Okay,” Kent says, sarcastically.

“What, you think I can’t?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Sure you could.” Anyone can do hard things. Close your eyes and grit your teeth and hold that plank until the trainer says drop. There’s always one more rep in you, if you want it bad enough.

“I know this whole deal is pretty weird.” Kent scrapes a thumbnail over the ridges of his water bottle cap. “But I don’t think I could just stay away from Owen. If it’s… anything like that.” Kent doesn’t say the word bond, and Mason’s grateful for it. “You can’t just drop it.”

“Owen’s not here,” Mason points out. “You don’t even live in the same place.” Not even in the offseason. Kent’s been training with Connor in BC, and Owen’s been doing whatever boring things Owen does in Ontario.

Kent rolls his eyes. “It’s not about being together all the time. It’s about knowing you’re good. You can’t just… leave him hanging.”

Mason opens his mouth. He’s not leaving Connor hanging. He’s not leaving him any kind of way. He’s just leaving, because it’s the only option.

“I wouldn’t do that to Owen,” Kent adds, like that’s some kind of standard. 

“We’re not you and Owen.” He and Connor aren’t even a we. “He’s seventeen. We don’t know…” Mason pauses and gets his voice back down to a normal volume. “We don’t know anything for sure.”

Kent flips his water bottle end over end and catches it. “Only one way to find out.”

Easy for Kent to say. Kent’s not the alpha who could seriously fuck things up for Canada’s next star. Connor’s basically a child, and he’s got enough to handle with his draft year. He doesn’t need to know that he might be an omega. He shouldn’t have to bear the terrible force of Mason’s want.

(next)

[note: mason and kent did go out to the bench together that night]