#Overtime Elite

[doublescribble]

Ausar Thompson

[fakehiphopsucks]

undefined

[indeedgoodman]

[daily-souls]

Oscarrrrr 39/365 - 15/11/23

[a-tale-of-legends]

Someone tagged this in my Geeta post and I had to repeat:

A woman of color disliking your white man( or in general someone who is lighter than her,as I like the hc that Larry isn't originally from Paldea) fav isn't the end of the fucking world.

Edit: Honestly this is more than a Geeta thing, this is a "pokemon fandom does not treat people of color/ dark skinned characters well" thing.

Edit 2: And it's not like I don't want a dark skinned character to be a villain or evil! We're allowed to have that! It's just so tiring to see fandom just treats them. Not even just would be villains, just darker skinned characters in general (everything about Hop when swsh was around, people being so quick to call Nemona a yandere and a creep, even if they don't mean harm by it)

[apaethy]

ALRIGHT ITS FINALLY THAT TIME! STARTING 1899!!

[ruija]

Full comic under read more

The Shredder Strikes Back episodes are so raw. I still remember seeing them for the first time as a 9 year old, and being completely stunned by the relentless beating Leonardo gets. Even after almost 20 years I can't get enough of that arc. And as an adult, I find it even more fascinating to dissect.

I'm enthralled by the fact, that in the 2003 series we get to see Leo go through two traumatic experiences and how he handles them both differently.

The ambush is bit of a loss of innocence -kinda situation. At that time Leo is still younger, overconfident and somewhat naive. Then the ambush rips that all away from him. It’s so ruthless and utterly merciless. It’s a demonstration from Shredder, “You’re only alive, because I’ve let you, but now I’m done playing with you.”  He sends in the Elite guard just to humiliate him. He doesn’t come down to fight himself, because Leonardo is so beneath him, utterly worthless.

 I really wanted to dive deep and explore Leo’s headspace during those events. The desperation, raw adrenaline and fear. The harrowing experience of being hunted down and shown you are nothing.

 Post Exodus -Leo is already familiar with failure and he's angry in a way of "I should be better by now." but I feel Post Ambush -Leo is more of a "Oh, I was not aware I could fail this way." and he's honestly just really scared, sad and feeling all kinds of vulnerable and lost. I wanted to portray sorrow and mourning over knowing that your world has changed. 

(I'd love to see present day fanworks of this topic. The way people interpret source material has changed overtime and it's really fascinating. Like it used to be " a hero has lost his path and needs to get his confidence back" and now we're like bringing actual mental illness diagnosis to the table and discussing that haha.)

[saturnville]

snow lands on top.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x linnea lowtower warnings: fluff. jealous!coriolanus. allusions to sex. possessiveness. 18+ steam. content: linnea and coriolanus attend a gala in the capitol where she becomes the center of attention, and coriolanus is not pleased with it. feedback is appreciated 🤍

Galas were frequent occurrences in the Capitol. The wealthy and elite sought after ways to flaunt the money that burned their pockets like the arrogant creatures they were. Most of them being the parents of students who attended the Academy. The most recent Gala was to celebrate the Fetsus’ parents on their new partnership with the University. Coriolanus could see through the nonsense like glass cleaner. They bought their son’s way into college. Even a child could see through it.

Regardless, it allowed the students of the Academy to experience such luxury and nauseating arrogance firsthand. A clear example of what their lives were destined to be like. However, unlike them, Coriolanus’ future wasn’t set in stone. Still, he scrambled for food and clothing—speaking of, he hoped no one would notice that the suit he wore was crafted by Tigris’ slender fingers. It was beautiful, but he knew Capitol kids; they were attentive and worked overtime to find something wrong with the next person.

Coriolanus pushed his thoughts to the side as he entered the home. The Creeds had outdone themselves. Music played on overhead speakers as servers waltzed the marble floors carrying drinks and food upon their shoulders. A plate with a slice of chocolate cake caught his eye. In one corner, he saw a group of young women pointing at a girl for her choice of dress, and in another, a group of guys deciding which girl they were trying to take home. Coriolanus’ lip twitched.

Coriolanus prepared to walk toward his friends but was stopped by an arm linking itself with his. He looked to his left and his eyes met hers. She brought her lips to his ear to whisper, “You’ve got to learn how to manage your facial expressions.” His features softened and he smiled.

“I’ll let you teach me,” he said while leading them toward their classmates who were downing flukes of champagne like it was water. He wondered how they would make it to lecture in the morning.

“Coryo, Linnea! Did you get here at the same time?” Clemensia asked with a tilted head. Linnea removed her arm from his and shook her head. Coriolanus fought the urge to frown.

“I got here a few minutes ago. Grabbed him when I was walking by. Oh—“ Linnea grabbed a fluke of champagne from a waiter’s tray and downed it in seconds, which earned a few cheers from the group.

“You came right on time. Cause they—“ Livia pointed at a group of guys behind them. Coriolanus’ eyes followed her finger. Disgust settled within him. Another group of obnoxious Capitol boys who couldn’t tell East from West but managed to have almost every Academy girl on her knees. Except for Linnea, God, he prayed it was never Linnea. “They’ve been looking over here all night. Let’s go!”

Linnea had no time to protest before she was whisked away by Livia and Clemensia. Her eyes caught his and seemed to whisper an apology only he understood. A hand dropped on Coriolanus’ shoulder. Festus and Sejanus. “And then there were three.”

Coriolanus did not want to make it obvious that he sought Linnea like a hawk while she interacted with the group of men. It was a sickening sight to see. She seemed happy with them and he hated her. Her full, red lips were peeled back and her beautiful smile was on display. She even laughed at their jokes. It wasn’t a soft giggle, either. No, it was a laugh that bellowed deep from her being. What could those morons have said that was so funny? The icing on the cake was when one of them touched her waist. His nasty fingers danced along the small of her back like they belonged there. She flinched and pulled away. Coriolanus’ nostrils flared in distaste.

Linnea backed away from the man in attempts to keep his hands away from her, but, in a drunken haste, he proceed with his advances. Livia and Clemensia were in lala land with the jocks and hadn’t noticed. But, Coriolanus did. In the blink of an eye, he stood behind Linnea and pulled her back by her waist. His hand planted firmly on her hip, his thumb close to the seam of where her underwear sat beneath her dress. It was an act of of possession. She could feel his heavy breaths against the crown of her head. “Is there a problem?”

The handsy individual went by the name of Fabio. His parents were of the highest class in the Capitol and his reputation as an asshole proceeded him. Fabio jokingly raised his hands in faux surrender, muttered an apology, and walked away.

“Are you okay?” Coriolanus asked. Linnea turned in his arms and nodded. “I’m fine. I want to leave…my parents are gone for the weekend.”

Music to his ears. Linnea stepped aside to speak with Clemensia and Livia. “I’m not feeling well. Coriolanus will escort me home.” They bid their farewells and Linnea and Corniolanus exited the Creed home swiftly, escorted to a car by the valet service.

The ride to the Lowtower residence was tense. Coriolanus couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in his head. Had she really enjoyed their company? What so fucking funny, and how did that idiot think he could touch her? Nobody could touch her.

Linnea noticed his demeanor but chose not to acknowledge it until they entered her bedroom and the door closed with the lock of the door. Coriolanus unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the edge of her bed. His eyes were glued to her as she floated to her vanity, where she began plucking off her jewels one by one. Her dainty fingers pushed her locs away from her ears to unclamp her earrings. She slid off her bracelets one by one.

“Will you take my necklace off please?” She looked over her shoulder at her lover. He stood to his feet and grounded himself behind her. He moved her hair to the side and ran her finger along her shoulder blade. She shivered. His fingertips danced along her neck and the hairs there stood at attention. With one pluck, the necklace slid down the valley of her breasts and into the deep cup of her dress. It was beautiful—made by Capitol designers. A bright red gown covered in sparkles. A slit down the right side and a heart-shaped neckline that plunged just beneath her breasts.

“You looked beautiful tonight,” Coriolanus said lowly. His warm breath fanned her ear. Linnea’s breathing became heavy as she leaned into his embrace. He lowered his head to bring his lips to her neck. Brown and warm. Slowly, he unzipped the dress that covered all his eyes burned to see. It slipped down her waist and fell at her feet. The necklace landed on top.

“Thank you,” she managed to muster.

“It seems I wasn’t the only one who thought so, hm?”

“Coryo…” She had a feeling she knew where he was headed. “They were just being friendly.”

Coriolanus gave a dissatisfied chuckle. Friendly his ass. He was a guy, he knew how they operated. Fabio looked at his girl like he was ready to eat her alive! He wouldn’t stand for her it. And then when he touched her? It ignited a fire deep within his loins.

“Yeah…I didn’t like it. They’ve wanted you for a while, did you know that? Talk about you in the hallways, in the restrooms, wondering what it’d be like to have you pressed against them…to touch you…to hear you cry out…to take yet another thing away from me.” His thumb hooked in the band of her lace underwear and he pulled it back with a pop. Linnea cried out his name and gripped the edge of the vanity. “Take them off.”

Linnea stepped out of her underwear and kicked them to the side. Coriolanus drank in their reflection, drunk off the sight of her bare body on display. Her eyes were closed and her head rest on her shoulder, chest heaving in anticipation of his next move. He could smell her arousal as her body warmed.

“I can take you right here. Mark up that pretty little body of yours and let everyone know you’re mine…” His tongue grazed her neck and he bit it softly. Linnea moaned lowly. His hand cupped her chin and forced her to meet his cold eyes in the mirror. “And that Snow always lands on top.”

[fannyyann]

Tkachuk tells NHL.com how change in approach lifted game for Panthers

Forward no longer playing it safe, becomes ultimate clutch player in Florida

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. – There was a time in Matthew Tkachuk’s life when he played it safe. It’s hard to remember now, hard to get that image out of your head, the one where he is crushing opponents and taking over Stanley Cup Playoff games and literally walking off the ice after scoring a game-winning goal in the fourth overtime of Game 1 of the 2023 Eastern Conference Final. 

It’s hard to remember there was a before. 

But there was.

Once upon a time, like most mortals, Tkachuk didn’t want to make a mistake. He didn’t want to be blamed. He didn’t want to err, to let down his teammates, the fans, himself. It was a time when he wasn’t quite as confident, wasn’t quite as assured -- if that can be believed -- when he didn’t know that, for him, safe was the riskiest play of all. 

“I think maybe earlier in my career, being a young player, not wanting to be the guy that made the mistake, [I] maybe played a little bit safe in the high-pressure situations,” Tkachuk said. “Just trying to play it smart and, honestly, safe’s a perfect word for it. 

“And then a couple years ago, I was like, why not make the play when nobody else wants to try to attempt it because they’re too nervous [about] what bad’s gonna happen? And I’ve seemed to go the other way, in the extreme other way, and that’s seemed to work the last few years.”

Tkachuk pinpoints it exactly, to 2021-22, his final season with the Calgary Flames, before the trade, before he landed in South Florida and became a genre-crossing star, before he helped propel the Panthers to the Stanley Cup Final last season. 

“I was like, ‘Why not?’” Tkachuk said. “Why wouldn’t you want to be the guy that can make that right play at the last minute of the game or whatever? … I’m like, I’m capable, I feel like I’m a good enough player where I can be confident in myself no matter what the situation is. And that’s just kind of kept going.”

The Panthers and Tkachuk will need it to keep going, as they head to the playoffs having hit a tough skid of late. The Panthers, who are set to face the Boston Bruins at TD Garden on Saturday (3:30 p.m. ET; ABC, ESPN+, SN, TVAS), are 3-6-1 in their past 10 games, including a 6-0 win against the Ottawa Senators on Thursday. 

They are second in the Atlantic Division, four points behind the Bruins, having clinched a playoff spot on March 28, a far cry from last season when the Panthers clinched with a single game remaining on their schedule. They then fell behind 3-1 in the best-of-7 first-round series against the Bruins. That was when they -- and Tkachuk -- came roaring back to force a Game 7. To win that Game 7. 

“I knew what he could bring on a stage like that, but I don’t think the whole rest of the world knew what he could do,” brother and Senators captain Brady Tkachuk said. “So for him to show what he was all about is pretty cool. And I think he’s got another level to his game.”

Paul Maurice thinks he knows why. 

The Panthers coach has seen a handful of players in his career who are elite, who might even rise to the level of potential Hockey Hall of Fame players. And when he’s viewing them, he notes something, something that seems to be common to all of them.

“I watch them and they have a higher expectation of the result,” Maurice said. “And the analogy I used [was] when that guy goes in and buys a suit, he expects it to fit right and it’s going to look good. He has an expectation of the result. 

“With Matthew, it seems to me, it’s tied, there’s four minutes [left], he’s excited about that situation because he has a really high expectation that something good’s going to happen because over the course of his life, that’s exactly what’s happened. It wasn’t a lottery. It’s just he’s gone out and made it happen, so he wants to and believes it can. 

“I never sensed any arrogance on him. I truly have not. It’s not like, hey, give me the puck, I’m the shooter. He just thinks when he hits the ice, it could happen, and his life has told him that it could happen. So why wouldn’t you enjoy the hell out of that?”

Oh, and he is. 

Not only has South Florida been a revelation for Tkachuk, so too has the team, which has entered into the top echelon of the NHL. He has figured out himself and his game, not only that he can -- and will -- come up big in the biggest of moments, but that he can also adjust to fit what the team requires, mold his game to the situation. 

Asked if he is a chameleon, he readily agrees. 

Especially in the playoffs. 

“I look at those types of playoff games differently,” Tkachuk said. “Like some people if they’re not producing, they’re not doing too much to help their team, whereas one of the good things that I’m able to do is recognize what my team needs out of me on that particular night or that particular shift. 

“There are some nights when offense comes second and all I’m trying to do is run around, be physical, try to forecheck and try to gain my team momentum like that. Even if teams are keying in on me or really focusing on me, there’s ways to make an impact.”

No one can argue with that. The Bruins still bear the scars -- some literal, some figurative -- of what Tkachuk did to them in the playoffs last spring. 

In the final four games of the first-round series, Tkachuk had eight points (four goals, four assists) to help them win the best-of-7 series. 

Boston forward Trent Frederic, who traces his understanding of Tkachuk back to basement games as kids in St. Louis, said that he thinks that, likely, had Tkachuk not been on the Panthers, the Bruins would have advanced. 

But he was. They didn’t. And now it’s not hard to believe that many teams are uninterested in seeing the Panthers on the opposing bench in the playoffs, in seeing Tkachuk on the opposing bench. 

Before a cracked sternum forced him to miss the fifth and final game of the last season’s Cup Final, Tkachuk had 24 points (11 goals, 13 assists), including four game-winning goals, in 20 playoff games. 

“So the playoffs, I think the one quote, he’s a [expletive] gamer, that’s how I feel about him in the playoffs last year. And I know it’s profane, but it’s also very specific words, it’s exactly the way I feel about him,” Maurice said. “Sometimes the words just fit. Sometimes they’re casual and you swear too much. Sometimes I do. But that is how I -- a [expletive] gamer. He comes up with the biggest plays time and time again. And his energy level to be able to play at that level, that was specific to the hockey. 

“This year, I’ve gotten to watch what an incredible leader he is.”

He sees it on the bench, in the exhortation of his teammates, in his calming of them, in his barking at them. He sees it when he brought a friend and his two kids into the dressing room after a game in Detroit, when Tkachuk paused in his postgame showering routine to sign a jersey, to take a picture, to get Carter Verhaeghe out of the shower to sign the other jersey. 

“I don’t even blame players who don’t sign,” Maurice said. “But he doesn’t have to do that, and he does that consistently. … It’s not fake. It’s not showy. I think he understands the responsibility that he has and he takes care of it.”

There are so many responsibilities heaped on Tkachuk now. 

He is a leader on the ice and off it. He is the second-leading scorer, with 83 points (24 goals, 59 assists), the top chirper and certainly the most talked about player on the Panthers. And he is ready, once again, to receive that pressure. He is ready for the playoffs. He is ready for the eyes and the lights and all that comes with it.

“I enjoy it,” Tkachuk said. “I think that the high intense games and the rivalry games and the, just like the intense part of the games that some guys might not feel too confident or comfortable, I seem to thrive in them and I love those moments.”

There will be no shortage of those moments in the waning days of the season, in the start of the playoffs, as the Panthers attempt to replicate their Cinderella run to the Final last season -- without the Cinderella part. 

Because much like the Panthers, who have been at or near the top of the NHL all season, there will be no surprises when it comes to Tkachuk. He is known, now. Known for stealing games, for coming up big in the biggest moments, for never, ever playing it safe. 

And when the pressure comes, as it will, he will be right there. 

“Knowing him, that’s going to make him go to another level,” Brady Tkachuk said. “And I think for him, he’s going to love, not the spotlight, but the opportunity that comes from that and what he’s going to be able to do with that. He gets better when the pressure is higher.”

[7077070707]

Hey!if you do headcanons can you do platonic relationship headcanons for Mikasa and Reiner and maybe a parental relationship with Levi?also you don’t have to do all of them lolol (and I would prefer a fem reader please!)

aot platonic relationship headcannons

ft — levi ackerman, mikasa ackerman, reiner braun.

warnings — none, which is surprising for something aot related

a/n — MY FIRST REQUEST! I’M SO HAPPY!

LEVI ACKERMAN

you and all the rest of the gang lowkey viewed levi as a father figure of some sorts.

it makes sense since you were orphaned and young, craving for parental affection and stuff.

you all had been through a lot together, and levi’s dealt with a lot of loss in his lifetime.

he would let the beast titan chuck him like a baseball before ever admitting he held any amount of care for you (but we all know it’s in there somewhere).

he’s a great mentor and parental figure, despite being harsh.

i definitely feel like you could just go and vent to him about whatever, and he’d either just sit there and listen silently or give a few words of advice.

DEFINITELY the type to scold you. you and the crew would be doing all kinds of shit (obv spurred on by hange) and he’d be on the verge of losing his shit.

“for god’s sake, would you all just FUCK O–”

but usually when he’s annoyed by your antics, he’d just glare at you or say “tch..” under his breath.

a great hand to hand combat teacher, but you’d get absolutely shitted on whenever you’d fight him. 

he’d blankly state where you went wrong, what you could’ve done, or if you missed a blind spot as he’s throwing out punches and sidestepping. 

after the sessions, you’d always leave with a bunch of muscle pain and bruises.

calls you brat so frequently to the point it was a bit of a shocker whenever he’d call you by your actual name.

you and the squad have accidentally called him ‘dad’ on MANY occasions and usually he’d just side eye you.

gets so MAD whenever a place is unclean or if you’ve made a mess.

“y/n.. get over here. clean this mess you’ve made. 

“on it dad!” you’d salute and he’d threaten to throw you into a titans mouth if you didn’t hurry the fuck up.

overall, a traumatised man makes an elite parental figure for a bunch of equally traumatised teenagers.

MIKASA ACKERMAN

you guys met in the cadet corps, and you were basically in awe with how she seemed to do everything so effortlessly. 

you noticed how she hung around with eren and armin a lot, but stayed alone whenever all the girls stayed in the barracks. 

it wasn’t that she was hostile, she was just quiet and probably passed the eyes of a lot of people. 

you decided to make your way up to her and strike up a conversation. at first, you could tell she was quite reserved, but overtime as your friendship blossomed you grew fond of her dry humour and passive expression.

through mikasa, you also grew quite close to eren and armin. 

through you, mikasa got closer to the rest of the squad. 

DEFINITELY the mother hen of the group. 

constantly badgering you over injuries you suffered, or telling you to eat or to get some rest. 

would probably slam you during training sessions, but would try her best to help you with technique and forms. 

i feel like she’s the type of person to ominously hover behind you as you’re talking to someone else and kinda just stare at them until they get uncomfortable and leave.

it wouldn’t even be on purpose, she just wanted to hang around you silently. 

HOWEVER, could definitely scare off someone who’s visibly pissing you off with a silent death stare.

the best person to tell secrets to, she would never tell a soul.

late night talks where you’d just talk about everything and anything under the stars.

she’d open up to you about eren and the mixed feelings she felt about him.

you’d also open up to her about whatever, and she’d be the best listener.

gives very straightforward advice but it’s oddly comforting.

overall, a 10/10 friend in whether you want someone to confide in, or someone to beat a dude’s ass. 

REINER BRAUN (before the armoured titan reveal)

best older brother figure!!!!!

for some reason, it felt easy to trust him.

he was just a dude everyone liked and respected, since he was so good natured and down to earth.

he’d also give crazy bear hugs.

you’d widen your arms for a casual hug and he’d absolutely engulf you.

it may or may not seem like it, but he’s got a great sense of humour.

i feel like he’d be scarily good at card games.

he’d teach you how to shuffle and how to play loads of random games.

the only time you were ever able to beat him was in a game of snap, but that was only because he sneezed the moment the cards were matched up and you slapped your hands on top of them.

you cheer and celebrate, and he just lets you have it despite the unfair circumstances.

but don’t think he’ll ever let you win again. 

has really good vibes and is just a guy you can’t hate.

overall, a very great and supportive buddy.

[coconutredbulllover]

what are some of your fave Pazzi clips??

ummtheyre all my favorite but ill name some videos off the top of my head idk if you mean clips specifically like from lives or js videos ill include both wtvr

azzi is my pookie, levron live, elite 8 hug, slam, that live w kendrick kks nephew, paige singing at the door, paige bothering azzi while studying, the live 🙄, the one of them holding hands in the line and azzi fixes her medal, the one of azzi waking up at like 5 am, azzi and paige playing carbival games at the minnesota fair, the bench tongue clip, 2v2 shootout, every video from the wnba draft, azzis youtube, that day in the life w azzi video, that one waist grab tiktok, the tiktok of them doing the dance w the audio that goes she told me she gon call me back i told her call me rocky , the your an asshole too clip where azzi was messing w paige, the horse clips, that one tiktok on the joint acc where azzi and paige are the guys and drew jon and jose are the girls ‘he got all the drugs and i got all the guns’, the one where azzi forced paige to put the santa haton, that tiktok where paige is like saluting azzi and they take turns dancing, the one of paige doing snatches and azzis looking up at her kinda thirstly, storrs news thing interview, overtime podcasts, azzi fixing paiges cap,

okay i need to stop or im just gonna name too many tiktoks 😭 idk i js love all the videos sue me

my memory: 💩 my memory when someone asks me abt a pazzi clip 💡🌟🔆‼️ my memory when someone asks me about the timeframe of said pazzi clip: 💩

[doublescribble]

Amen Thompson

[harley-sunday]

Champagne Supernova

Summary: You literally stumble into Charles Leclerc one evening and somehow end up with custody over his tuxedo jacket? Weird. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader [f] Warnings: None Word count: 2.7k AN: Sometimes an idea just *mimics explosion with hand* pops up all of a sudden and won't go away until you write it down (I mean, I was literally in bed already but…). So here we are  Also, written on mobile (eL, don't @ me) so apologies in advance for shitty formatting and for not editing. Also², I live for validation so comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! That is, if you like it, of course :)

It’s warm inside the ballroom of the hotel you’re in and so you’re trying to fan yourself with a copy of tonight’s program because now that the formal part of the evening is over it really doesn’t serve any use anymore other than to help you cool down. You’re standing in the corner of the room, close to the bar, observing the crowd - Monaco’s elite; a strange mix of old money and self made millionaires that have come together for tonight’s fundraiser.

You don’t belong to either of those groups but instead are here because the PR agency you work for somehow got selected to promote the event. It meant a lot of overtime in the past two months for the entire team and so your bosses - Olivier and Claire, a happily married couple with two kids, a dog, and a perfect work-life balance (of course) - promised you and your colleagues a seat at one of the tables and thus an open bar for the evening very early on in the process to make up for all the early mornings and late nights. 

Dinner was a drawn out affair with seven small courses, entirely too much red wine, and a slightly boring silent auction reveal that took way too long for your liking. The promise of an after-party kept you from leaving early but it’s Monaco, it’s rich people, and so you could and should have known that their idea of an after-party is more champagne, bragging about who paid what despite it being a silent auction, and a guy with a comb-over and an ill-fitting tuxedo playing the piano, dragging out “Les Lacs du Connemara” way beyond the six minutes the song usually takes.

Next to you, Olivier and Claire are having a small domestic because Claire, slightly intoxicated, wants to stay but Olivier, scarily sober, has promised the babysitter they’d be back before one. Your other two colleagues are trying to persuade (read: threaten) the piano guy into playing “Sweet Caroline”, and you are feeling more miserable by the minute - one of your shoulder straps keeps sliding down, there’s a headache coming on, and your feet hurt like crazy in the stilettos you had no time to break in, so to say you are over it and ready to go home would be an understatement.

You wait for a lul in Olivier and Claire’s argument before you turn to them and tell them, “I’m heading out, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Olivier nods but Claire starts to protest and grabs your wrist, “Babe. Stay.”

You shake your head and try to free your hand but Claire doesn’t let go. Looking at Olivier for help you tug again but her fingers remain deadlocked around your wrist and you know it’s because she’s drunk and wants someone in her corner when Olivier decides to stand his ground and make her go home in about five minutes or so, but it is annoying as fuck and so you pull a little harder and start to walk away. “Claire,” you warn her, “let go.”

She still doesn’t.

Until all of a sudden she does and it makes you stumble forward and bump into someone and then everything seems to happen at once - you flail your arms trying not to topple over, reaching out for something- Anything you can hold onto. It’s the arm of the guy you bumped into but as you steady yourself against him he loses control of the drink he’s holding, a quiet, “Oh, merde,” your only warning before-

“Holy shit, that’s cold!” You jump backwards in shock, fingers plucking at the fabric of your dress as you try to stop the liquid from dripping down in between your boobs while quietly cursing your best friend who made you wear this stupid dress with its stupid plunging neckline in the first place. The fabric is already clinging to your skin, your chest and stomach absolutely soaked and you look around for an easy exit, first to the toilets maybe, to save yourself from the horrified looks around you and any further embarrassment but then you see a stack of white napkins appear in your field of vision and before you know it you are being pat down by the man who’s drink you’re now wearing.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles while trying to dry your dress but the napkins are white and your dress is black and so all it does is leave a trace of little pieces of fluff all over your stomach but before you have a chance to say anything he’s grabbed a new stack of napkins and goes for your chest-

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” You shake your head and take the napkins from him, gently pushing his hands back with a smile, “I got this.”

“Shit, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and is blushing like crazy, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him as you’re blotting yourself now. “I mean, I’m the one who bumped into you, right?” The napkins really aren’t helping and so you give up with a frustrated sigh, looking up for the first time then, letting out a quiet, “Oh,” when you see the man standing in front of you. Jesus Christ, he’s hot. And apparently still upset because he stares at you with his beautiful green eyes as if he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Even though you’re the one who could enter, and maybe even win, a wet t-shirt contest this very second which you think is ten times more embarrassing. 

“Let me at least do something to help,” he tries, reaching out his hands to you again but then thinking better of it. “Really. Anything. I mean, I will pay for the dress of course, but-”

He seems so flustered that you can’t help yourself, “Well, considering you almost went to second base just now-” you say with a wide smile and a pointed look between his hands and your chest, “-it would be nice to at least know your name.”

This makes him chuckle and earns you a smile in return, “I’m Charles.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” you say, meaning every word of it, and then introduce yourself. When you lick your lips you taste the champagne he spilled on you and can’t help but laugh, “What a waste of that Veuve Clicquot, though, huh?”

“I’m more worried about your dress, to be honest,” he counters with a grin.

“What? This old thing?” You motion for him to come forward and when he does you put your mouth close to his ear and whisper, “Between you and me, I think the champagne was more expensive.”

He chuckles again when you pull back and you can’t help but fall for him a little, the way he scrunches his nose something so- Adorable? Hot? You’re not sure. Either way, you want to see more of it, you decide. Charles still looks as if he’s ready to go into purgatory and so somehow you’re not really surprised when he tries again, “I mean it though. Anything I can do to make up for this.”

You look around then and even though most of the crowd has gone back to their smalltalk there are still some curious onlookers that seem way too invested in this, making you feel very exposed all of a sudden, and so, well, if he insists… “Maybe you could lend me your jacket for a hot sec and escort me out of here?”

“Of course,” he replies, already taking his tuxedo jacket off. He hesitates for a second but then drapes it over your shoulders anyway, “There.”

Instead of a ‘thank you’, a distracted, “Uhu,” comes out because it’s only now, when you see the way the white dress shirt is stretched across his arms and chest, that you see how muscular he is. He’s- Not broad but definitely athletic and you wonder what kind of sport he’s into. Before you have a chance to ask though he’s absentmindedly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and you can feel your mouth go a little dry at the sight of his tanned, veiny forearms and hands. A fleeting thought of just how much you could make him apologize with those long fingers gets quickly pushed back when he holds out his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Come on,” he says and nods towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.” He guides you through the room with ease and doesn’t stop when you reach the foyer, instead making you follow him outside where he nods at the valet.

“I didn’t drive here,” you start, because somehow you figured it’s your car he wants them to get.

“I know. Well-” he chuckles then, “-I don’t actually, but I’m making him get my car so I can drive you home. Or your hotel. I mean, I don’t want to assume-”

“Home,” you quickly reassure him. This time you remember your words and your manners, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He leads you down the front steps when the valet pulls up with his car, a black Ferrari Pista Spider that you can’t help but silently admire, and doesn’t let go of you until you’ve reached the car and he’s opened the door for you.

You try to keep the wet part of your dress from touching anything inside the car as best as you can, offering a quiet, “Sorry,” when Charles slides into his seat.

He tuts, “Don’t worry about the car, ma chérie." 

And, oh- That’s- Nice. And a complete one eighty from how flustered he was mere minutes ago. Huh. Interesting.

If he does notice you clearing your throat to distract yourself, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Instead he starts the car, the engine absolutely purring to life, and turns to you with a grin, "Where am I taking you?”

Right here and right now please, you almost say, but you don’t think that’s what he meant and so instead you tell him, “Take a left at the stoplights and then a right at the next.”

As you guide him through the streets of Monaco you find out he’s an F1 driver with Ferrari who was actually born and raised in Monaco. He tells you how he’s on a three-week summer break until the end of August when the second half of the season starts with a race in Belgium. In return you tell him how you moved here three years ago when, after college, you got offered a job by Claire and Olivier.

All too soon, because sometimes Monaco really is nothing more than just a small town on the French Riviera, he pulls up in front of your house with an almost apologetic smile, “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” you echo with a nod. It’s silent for a moment before you decide to just put yourself out there, something about doing it now or forever wishing you had, “Would you like to come in? I could get changed and give you your jacket back? You might want to wash it though, I think there’s some wine- It probably needs to go to the dry cleaner’s, right? I don’t think it can go in the washing machine-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you close your eyes for a second and try again, “What I meant was: Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“I would love to but- I can’t,” he says and there’s something about him that makes you believe he’s telling the truth and that he’s sorry about it. “I have some auctioned pieces I still need to sign and I have to take a photo with the highest bidder in-” he looks at his watch and lets out a humorless laugh, “-ten minutes.”

“That sucks,” you tell him because apparently you’re now just speaking your mind without being eloquent about it.

He nods slowly, “It kind of does.”

Oh. Ok.

“Take the jacket,” he says then, “I can come pick it up later.”

Wait. What?

“Later tonight, or?”

He shakes his head, “No. Later as in, next week or something.”

“Oh, ok, yeah, that’s- Yeah, makes sense.” No need to stumble over your words, you think, you took your chances and it didn’t work out. It’s fine. It’s just that the 'or something’ kind of hurts.

He must see the disappointment on your face because he quickly adds, “I mean, so I can see you again. Later. When I’m not in a rush and you’re not covered in champagne.”

You can’t help but laugh, your mind once again too quick for your own good, “Who says I won’t be?” You let the words hang in the air with a raised eyebrow and it takes a few heartbeats but then Charles laughs as well, a burst of laughter that you want to hear again and again. You grin at him, “What?”

“You are something else,” he says, shaking his head. He reaches for his phone then, unlocks it, and hands it to you, “If you add your number I could maybe call or text you?” There’s a shy smile playing on his lips then, “About the jacket, I mean.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it back now?”

“No, that’s ok. My brothers are at the party as well. I can just take one of theirs.”

“Sure?” You try one last time.

“Sure.”

“Ok.” Your fingers fly over his screen then, adding yourself to his contacts before you hand him the phone back. Locked. A wicked grin on your lips, “Let’s see if you remember my name- Later.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good.” You lean over the center console then and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“You will,” he says with a bad attempt at a wink, which so far seems his only flaw.

“Thank you for driving me home,” you say as you climb out of the car while trying not to flash anyone even though there’s no one around. A kind smile then as you close the door, “Drive safe.”

“Always.” He gives you a quick wave and then he’s off, the rumble of the engine echoing through the almost empty streets of the city.

***

He doesn’t call. Or text. And so his jacket moves from your living room, where it was draped over a chair for the first three weeks, to the guest bedroom slash your home office, this time draped over your office chair. Every now and then you catch a hint of his cologne  and so you still aren’t able to really forget about him.

At the beginning of November you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably won’t see him again, that you probably made a bigger deal out of it than it was, that he probably doesn’t even remember you - your name just another girl added to his contacts because he was simply trying to be nice - and so at some point you move the jacket to inside the closet in the guest bedroom, telling yourself that the only reason you won’t throw it away is because it’s Armani and expensive as fuck. 

You’d like to say you’ve forgotten about both the jacket and Charles once December rolls around but that would be a lie. You’ve actually started to follow the remainder of the F1 season and saw him come second in the World Driver Championship. A warm feeling settling somewhere inside your chest whenever you see him getting doused in champagne by his teammates or rivals, taking you back to the night you met. 

He’s been on your mind more than ever and when your phone rings one night, an unknown, private number calling you, you somehow know it’s him and so you answer with a cheeky, “The jacket you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please try again later.”

He lets out a laugh, that same laugh you drew from him in his car all those months ago, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “Salut, ma chérie, I’m sorry for not calling any sooner but-”

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way back into our lives, Leclerc,” you say as you take another bite of the apple you were eating.

“Our?”

“The jacket’s and mine,” you reply. “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Is that so?”

You nod even though he can’t see you, “Yeah.”

“I’d like to come see that for myself.”

“Hmmm,” you draw out. “We might be able to arrange a supervised visit. When would you-”

Your doorbell rings then and you hear it both in your house and echo through your phone and- Oh. Shit.

Charles chuckles in your ear, “Now?”

===

AN: I am so sorry for this very unsatisfying open ending. It was the best I could do for now... *sends hugs to those affected*

[your-bestamericangirl]

Paige Bueckers x reader (Preview)

Lmk if you're liking this idea... sorta enemies (one sided) to lovers Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!Reader (lmao and for fun purposes totally making readers ex gf ellie williams)

title (maybe??): Your Best American Girl

--------

Anyone would have sold their soul to be (Y/n) (L/n) in 2020, but she wanted to be someone else.

Her senior year of high school, (Y/n) led her team to their first State Championship in over a decade. The whistle blew at the end of double overtime, and she walked off the court with a triple-double, along with her career-high of 41 points. 

But looking at the scoreboard, she was two points behind, one shot behind, and in second place. 

(Y/n) wouldn’t settle for less than first place in anything. It's not that she was competitive, just that she had so much to prove, that which came second hand with always getting first place.

The day after their loss, she was listed behind Paige Bueckers in second place among the class of 2020 high school recruits. 

Never in her life had she envied one person as she did in that moment.

_____________________

ESPN - May 5th, 2023

The recent news of (Y/n) (L/n)'s decision to enter the transfer portal in the NCAA women's basketball has sent shockwaves through the sports community. (L/n), a standout student-athlete, captured the hearts of fans nationwide with her remarkable performance in last season's March Madness. Despite her exceptional talent and single-handed efforts, her team fell short in the Elite Eight against UConn Women's Basketball, marking a bitter end to their journey. Now, with (Y/n) poised to switch schools, anticipation mounts as enthusiasts eagerly await her next move, wondering how her departure will reshape the landscape of collegiate basketball.

_____________________

[doreymifasolo]

Everyone loves Ram, okay, but here’s why Bheem’s best man:

Puppy dog eyes ◕ ◡ ◕

“This bracelet goes with that dress.” Bro is working overtime as a spy AND a trend-setter. Did you see his crash the party makeup??

When picking between the boys’ and girls’ game of tug of war, he went to the girls’ side. And won.

Speaking of girls, this kawaii man emotes like he’s in an anime. He physically cannot keep any feeling secret. The only reason Elite Special Ops-Officer Ram didn’t notice Bheem was lying to him is because he is so in love

HIS WIDDLE HEAD BOBBLES (◠‿◠✿)

cURLY HAIR, curly hair, and MORE curly hair

Man is built like a teddy bear but also a BEAR bear

Anytime he sees a child/woman/man being treated dishonorably: (ง'̀-‘́)ง

Innocently and honestly believes that he won the dance off because of Ram’s “leg cramp.” When he asks Seetha who has smallpox, Seetha looks like she’s explaining what lies are to a small child for the first time

The way he takes Ram’s, Seetha’s, and Malli’s hands in his, giving them one last thing to anchor themselves to before his departure. His love language is physical touch <3

He gives the best hugs in the world and EVERYONE knows it

While enduring Passion of Christ-levels of torture, went, “Welp, there’s a song I’ve been working on. Want to hear it?” It was a banger. You could say the crowd went wild

His first instinct wasn’t to take the shrine’s bow and arrows for Ram. His instinct was to bless him and make his friend a LITERAL deity, LORD RAMA reincarnate!!

He screamed in a tiger’s face then apologized to him

Has definitely worn a flower crown before and will do so again

Bheem looked at white men’s obsession with hunting and really said “You like shooting beautiful creatures, yes? ^^ Murdering my forest friends, yes? ^^

–FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.” (◣///◢)

He went from weeping into Ram’s hands to ripping the door that separated them off its fucking hinges in like. five seconds.

He thinks he’s not smart like Ram. My dude, you brought a TigER to A GUN FIGHT. You GENIUS. YOU ABSOLUTE MAD LAD

[aiart-blog]

KUNOICHI

Thank you for your hard work, sir. I have gathered information on our industry competitors.

Firstly, Company A has adopted a flexible work schedule allowing employees to come and go as they please. They have also successfully transitioned to telecommuting, requiring physical attendance only once a week, creating a very accommodating work environment. Additionally, besides regular salaries, they offer performance-based incentives, which appear to be more attractive than conventional overtime pay.

Next, regarding Company B, some of their employees are working on a contract basis. While their full-time employees are reportedly worked hard like workhorses, the elite members are engaged on a contract basis. Their employment approach is quite unique, adopting an annual salary system and paying additional rewards for each project. They have eliminated the traditional concept of commuting, with project leaders overseeing progress and assembling team members as needed, fostering a very flexible corporate culture. On the other hand, full-time employees routinely work early and overtime, seemingly driven hard like horses. The company appears to be a meritocracy, prominently favoring its most talented employees.

Both companies have abolished the traditional systems of overtime pay and bonuses, instead providing compensation based on project completion. Those who excel in their work tend to juggle multiple projects, resulting in substantial monthly earnings.

Our company is currently in the process of eliminating overtime pay and bonuses, but this has been met with strong opposition from our employees. Some have even started to move to Companies A and B.

It is ironic that our employees, while fiercely opposing the removal of overtime pay and bonuses, are transferring to companies that do not offer these benefits. I cannot help but feel a certain admiration for our employees demonstrating this new form of comedy. One can easily imagine how they will be treated at their new jobs. Amen.

In conclusion, while this mission was to discuss how to prevent the outflow of our talent, we have reached the conclusion that we might as well let them go.