#ball thread 10

[gyokutoll]

snzzz tapping out

[speedwagons-glorious-mane]

I love going to arts and crafts events in my community because every single time, I manage to wow everyone with my tatting and, if I'm lucky, I manage to find one or two who want to learn so I shove a cheap pre-wound fifty cent shuttle I bought online in bulk and a tiny crochet hook I got from the second hand store at them and we hold a little shuttle tatting class right then and there

[phoenixcatch7]

Totk end game/post credit spoilers

Me during the final blow and final cutscenes:

^ Link finally getting to beat up the guy that (caused the last century of problems, nearly killed hyrule, wiped out his friends and family, poisoned his friends homes,) took zelda.

^ me. The final dungeon (?) and battle was so so so good and I got to plunge my sword into ganons human body which I will admit I have missed. He tried to flurry rush me!! Failed but still. Rude. I styled on his soon-to-be corpse to show how it was done.

^ girls when the credits roll

^ girls when the credits finish and they see their favourite sage dying after showing her successors her favourite view and passing on the torch to the next generation ten thousand years late but assured a bright future free of suffering, oblivious to the curse of demise trapping hyrule in an eternal loop and link having to stand there and know better and then it cuts to the collapsed construct outside the temple.

^ girls internally when the door knocks and they've got to act normal about it for two minutes.

Notes about the fights:

The gloom shroud/Phantom ganon waiting outside was a pussy as always. Dropped his bow which I appreciated. The white moblin on the other side got shoved off onto his remains. Good build up to the main event.

The demon army was straight out of skyward sword, less satisfying given the lack of physical progress and implied time limit but it was still a fun treat. Didn't get to use any of my fun things though, and the sages made up for their lack of tactical usefulness and REFUSING TO LET ME USE THEIR ABILITIES and BLOCKING MY VIEW and INTERRUPTING MY ATTACKS by their sheer damage output, they deal with several monsters while I was busy. Then they immediately got pulled away by the temple bosses, which kind of dampened the mood. Bye, I guess.

Ganon was literally sitting in a malice hot tub. Straight up marinating in that hot tub like he was a washed up celebrity taking a fake candid photo at a blow out party he hosted at his oversized Beverly hills mansion months before he had to sell it.

Getting to fight rehydrated ganon was so cool! I will admit the way he built up the fight did something for me, the animators did a phenomenal job giving him a weight and power. I wanted to smash his smug face in so bad.

He was strong! Every hit from him knocked link over! But with his shield up it didn't do any damage, so I drew first blood! I always find that very important when fighting bosses XD. I actually had the biggest trouble with his sword, that thing was almost hilariously small on him and blended into the... Everything around link. When he switched to his club it went from worryingly hard to hilariously easy, I flurried literally every attack and didn't get a scratch! I was wary when he got his spear out but I'd gotten into a rhythm and took him out!

The demon king transformation was incredible! When that health bar just kept going I was so excited XD!! It's a fantastic trope/gimmick, love it every time! And the sages came back! And were somehow EVEN MORE HINDERING. He duplicated and everyone split up to fight one, which meant they were running all over the place. Unlike their vows these guys are fully opaque, and when three out of five are many times bigger than link it blocked out a significant portion of the battlefield, when I needed maximum vision to see and dodge the many shadowy ganons flitting in and out of view. I had a plan, I should have been able to pull it off beautifully - yunobo was closest so ram him into the nearest ganon to create distance to reach sidon and water blast through the forming line of ganons, climb mineru for a bullet time and fill everything with explosives.

What did not happen was all of that. I ended up taking the most damage by far in that portion of the fight. Instead of being a cool fight, a useful set of abilities or even an annoying but ignorable gimmick, the sages were active hindrances that blocked me at every turn, side rammed me with attacks aimed at the enemy, hid attacks aimed at me, and escaped my every attempt to reach them like their au was trained for that instead. The only success was reaching mineru to bullet time back flip from her, and by that point I was frustrated enough to use a significant portion of my ancient arrows. If I'd been using the vows I would have deactivated them barely a minute in and taken my chances with the phantoms! It was ridiculous! It was a relief when they got blasted away and it shouldn't have been!

But OH that TRANSFORMATION. I'd heard rumours of the dragon ganon, my own lack of blocking the totk spoiler tag being entirely my own fault, but it was still a shock to see him do what zelda had done, this time laughing manically, gladly willing to throw away even his mind and soul in pursuit of an ever foggy idea of power. (I can only assume he'd never actually seen a dragon before, and had only heard the myths surrounding then, because those guys are NOT designed for combat lol.) The fact that he went laughing as zelda went in pain and tears really cemented how far both were willing to go but how differently they saw it.

That evil dragon aesthetic was IMPECCABLE. 10/10 off the charts. The horns!! The eyes! The explosion! Forcing his way up through the castle with link trapped helplessly in a tooth! The giant claw emerging! The messed up dragon theme!!

And then ZELDA, my beautiful darling!!! I love her so much, even blind and empty, even gone and sleeping her dragon knew what to do against the thing she had been turned into to fight against. Oh she was BEAUTIFUL and so gentle with link, catching him on her fluffy head, she was so small in comparison! And link was absolutely tiny!!! Tiny boy!! She might not have known what to do herself, but she was pressed as close as she could get the whole time, darting about like a minnow in a pond compared to ganons barracuda thrashing. The sunset in the sky just made the whole thing look phenomenal.

The use of like like - esque stones instead of the calamitys eyes was inspired! The eyes would have been too much the same, and the introduction of likes trained us instinctively to hit the rock orb things as weak points. Unfortunately being that high up in the air and being so small comparatively meant judging distance was very hard, I wasted a lot of ancient and bomb arrows trying to hit them. It was only until the stone opened up (sir... Why did you put that BACK on your head?! Hide it in your body like the rest of the sane dragons!) that I realised you could land on him. In my defence he looked entirely comprised of gloom, which has spent the past month sucking my life out on contact so...

I was SO lucky to have my hero outfit on, ie the dyed travellers tunic and cap of the wild, it made every cutscene so cinematic! Sure felt like a zelda game! I took so many screenshots XD.

The final cutscenes though... I've been so worried about getting zelda back to human since I got the master sword glyph in eldin. I've been so, so determined to get her back. I would have done so side quests to do so - since she was a separate quest to defeating ganon I thought impa would give me the instructions! I was fully prepared to have to put in another ten hours or so and then fight ganon again to get the true ending!

And then Sonia and Rauru showed up again like 'that's our DAUGHTER' and gave link the power to rewind time over ten THOUSAND YEARS and turn her dragon soul back to a human ToT. And then they took links arm!! I was so mad! Give him his arm back?! Where did the flesh one even come from it got turned into a blackened lump on a pg screen! They can't even show blood! That arm was fully gone! You said yourself it was beyond - ohhhh they reversed time on his arm too. What is with Rauru and non consensual arm replacement?? I was a part zonai hybrid! The last piece of an extinct species! I could levitate and reverse time! Give me!! my arm back!!!

But Sonia finally got to meet link like she'd wanted and they got their closure after millenia and they said goodbye ToT.

And then link CAUGHT zelda. They landed in the pond he had all that time ago at the beginning, and he swam them to shore, and zelda woke UP and came HOME and SURVIVED after she'd lost all hope for herself and she got to come HOME 😭 (see pictures above for reference). And they SHOULD HAVE HUGGED NINTENDO, THEY SHOULD HAVE HUGGED.

I was crying so hard I literally couldn't see the screen ToT. I had to keep blinking and sniffling and I just SOBBED when the credits rolled. Wailing into the tissues. And then mineru and the sages! Dangit, not my favourite sage! Dangit, let me keep ONE zonai thing?? Thankfully I didn't burst into tears again but it got CLOSE.

All in all? 10/10 incredible showstopping unbelievable never been done before perfect amazing. Everything down to the camera angles were perfection made physical (or virtual). Just NEVER make me have to fight with the sages again.

[kxsagi]

this one doesn’t rlly involve a reader but i’d love to see blue lock boys react to what their irl fandom has to say abt them like from thirst comments to shit like “fraudtoshi rin” “plotsagi” “goatsagi” or idfk like “does ness hold it for kaiser when he pisses bc he can’t aim?” you can pick the characters, tho i feel like isagi, rin and kaiser are easier to do bc of how many comments there are about them

thank you for taking the time to read this random ass hc idea i love ur account🥀🥀💔💔

“𝐫𝐞𝐟, 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 🥀”

a/n: i loved this one so much, the blue lock fandom truly is the best 😭😭😭

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, ness alexis, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

isagi's the type to search his name on twitter. daily. you think he's just analyzing plays but no, he's reading threads like: "isagi plays soccer like he's plotting a murder and we're just watching the body count rise." "plotsagi got that rizz. man manipulating the ball and my feelings." 

he scrolls in silence for a good 10 minutes. then asks himself, “do i really look like i monologue in my head before i pass?” 

but then he finds one that says “if isagi had a fanfic it’d be tagged ‘obsession’ ‘manipulative behavior’ ‘this is not a love story’” and he goes, “okay, but they’re not wrong.” 

thirst tweets? he reads one that says, “i would let isagi use me like he uses spatial awareness” and drops his phone (that was tweeted by kxsagi). 

refuses to look anyone in the eye for a full 12 minutes. 

itoshi rin

the absolute worst person to find his fandom discourse. 

at first it’s fine, he sees “itoshi rin owns me” and “he could spit on me and i’d bark” and thinks you’re all mentally unstable (he’s right). 

but then. then. he hits a comment that says: “fraudtoshi rin only shows up when sae breathes near him. man folds faster than my GPA.” 

he stops breathing. who said that. he’s scrolling like he’s trying to find the IP address. 

goes into a full-on rant like, “i literally scored more goals in the NEL than– you know what, never mind. i don’t care. i don’t. i don’t even read comments.” (he absolutely reads the comments.) 

the worst part is he sees people arguing over who the hotter itoshi is. someone said “sae is sexy. rin is just cold and tall.” this man is FUMING. “i am not just tall.” 

kaiser michael

he lives for this. googles himself once a week. you can catch him reading a post that says: “kaiser looks like he’d insult you in german during sex and then ghost you after stealing your charger.” 

he chuckles and goes, “hm. they get me.” 

there’s another tweet: “kaiser plays football like the main villain in a sports anime and i’d still let him ruin my life.” 

he saves it. makes it his wallpaper. “they get it.” 

but then he sees one that says: “does ness hold it for kaiser when he pisses because he can’t aim?” 

that man screeches. pure betrayal. “WHAT? why would they say that? why would they say i can’t AIM? i am the best striker in blue lock! in the world!” 

he turns to ness like, “tell them it’s not true. say it.” 

ness alexis

he sees the comment about him holding it for kaiser and his face goes red. “i don’t do that!! i– i– kaiser can aim just fine!! i mean– i’ve never– WHY IS THAT A QUESTION!?” 

his favorite tweet is actually: “ness is like a clingy poodle with abandonment issues and i want to pat his head and tell him it’s okay.” 

he reads it twice and mutters, “i don’t have issues...” 

but then sees someone say “ness is just the manager who got promoted to player because kaiser needed a fanboy on-field” and he looks heartbroken for the entire week. 

mikage reo

he’s lowkey offended that people don’t thirst over him enough. 

“why does everyone simp for nagi? i have the body of a greek god and a bank account that would fund a small nation. where’s my edit with lana del rey playing in the back?” 

he finds a comment that says: “reo has rich twink energy and i respect that.” 

he reads it out loud and then mutters, “... what does that mean.” 

nagi seishiro

only finds out about the fandom when reo shows him. doesn’t care until he sees a tweet that says: “nagi looks like he’d sleep through a nuclear war, but wake up if you open a bag of chips.” 

he stares blankly and goes, “they’re right though.” 

reo shows him another that says “nagi looks like he gives the worst hugs. like hugging a fridge.” 

“do i?” he asks, genuinely confused. “maybe it’s just all the muscle i’ve packed on.” 

shidou ryusei

he’s already in the comments. like. not just reading them. replying. 

thirst tweets? he's in there with a “bet 😘” and a selfie of his abs. 

reads a tweet that says: “shidou plays like a demon possessed his body mid-match and now it’s just him vs god.” 

he likes it. reposts it with “and i’m winning.” 

but then he sees someone tweet: “if shidou had a tumblr, it would be just gifs of himself and ‘do u guys think teeth are sexy’ polls.” 

he grins, full teeth. “yo wait. that’s genius.” 

there’s another one that says “shidou would call you ‘mommy’ during sex just to see your reaction” and he cackles. 

“nah, i already have. she cried. it was awesome.” 

but the real chaos? he finds a post that reads: “shidou is what happens when red bull sponsors a felony.” 

he screenshots it. makes it his lock screen. 

itoshi sae

did not ask to see the fandom discourse. but a teammate showed him anyway. huge mistake. he stares blankly at the phone like: “what the hell is a ‘dilf agenda’ and why am i on it?” 

he sees another one that says: “sae looks like he’d ruin your life and then act like you were the problem.” 

he hums. “that’s just facts.” 

another says: “sae is hot, but i just know he’d leave you on read for 3-5 business days with no explanation and still expect you to be in love with him.” 

he glances over, shrugs. but then. then. he reads: “sae is just rin with prettier hair and daddy issues.” 

his entire soul leaves his body. “excuse me?” 

turns to his teammate like, “do i… do i look like i have daddy issues?” his teammate blinks. he’s already reevaluating his childhood in real time. 

worst of all, he finds a photo of himself mid-match with the caption: “sae itoshi could run me over with his lamborghini and i’d say thank you.” 

and now he won’t shut up. “you think i should get a lambo? it’d match my aura.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[womanofwords]

Silver Swan (Part 1)

Neglected!fem!reader x yandere!Batfam

Headless chickens. Bruce Wayne and his children were running around like headless chickens over the gala. So annoying.

"Steph, you'd better not have taken my good corsage!" Barbara yelled. You sighed and retreated to your workspace. Just a little more of this racket and you could work on your new cloak in peace. It was a wonderful silvery colour, and all it needed was the interior fabric for comfort and warmth and the matching exterior feathers for aesthetic. You felt so fun and so mysterious just looking at it.

What should the inner lining be, though? Velvet? Cotton? Silk? Absent-mindedly, you grabbed some silver thread and wandered around with it, weighing up your options.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" Damian scolded, knocking into you. It hurt, but you couldn't tell whether or not it was on purpose or not. "Why are you even here? You aren't preparing for anything."

He was right; you weren't. No gala invitations came in the mail for you, after all. You were always left out, for some reason.

"I wanted to stretch my legs," you said, cheerily.

"Well, you'll have to wait until we're gone. You won't get in the way like that, and we see you less." His lip curled up into a smirk.

"OK. I'll just wait until you're all gone. I'll go back to my room until then." You rushed back to your bedroom, eyes burning with tears.

Why was it never you?

You'd never been invited to a charity dinner once since joining the Wayne family. Was it because of your parentage? You had been the result of a hookup between your mother, a high-end tailor, and the prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne himself. Maybe your origin was considered embarrassing for Gotham high society. You were nothing like Damian, who boasted of Al Ghul and Wayne ancestry, or Tim Drake, teenage CEO. You were ordinary.

And for a Wayne, ordinary was embarrassing.

You listened to Alfred drive off with them the same way you always did. Alfred would be back soon, but the rest of the family would be gone until morning.

All the better to work on your cloak.

You got out your sewing machine and worked away, opting to go with the velvet. Your dress would be a matching silver colour, and down to the ankles. Shoes would have to have thick soles so that the hems of your cloak and dress wouldn't touch the floor.

"There have to be some books about fashion around here," you mutter, as you pull books out of the shelves by the spine, dislodging them and putting them back when you had determined that this tome would be of no use to you. As you went for a book about a timeline of high fashion, sheafs of paper fell out and landed next to your feet.

You debated whether or not to look at them. Nobody was in the house, so nobody would know that you had done it so long as you put them back where you had found them. Curiously, you picked one up at random and read it.

It had your name on it. You picked up another. That one had your name on it, too. They all did, actually. What really differed were the events highlighted.

Winter Gala. Charity Ball. Annual Dinner.

Your innards twisted. You really had been invited to these events, same as everyone else. Someone in the house had repeatedly and systematically hidden your letter of invitation so you wouldn't accompany them. It was your family's doing that had left you weeping bitter tears in a home that hated you.

Those heartless bitches would pay.

Part 1 <- You are here

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

"It was mine from the moment I touched it."

This is #2 out of 10 of my Phrase Series, hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Thank you @thatone-girly for the phrase!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Word Count: 2.4 k

~18+ THIS FIC CONTAINS SMUT!!~

Joe grunted as he checked the time on his watch. He gritted his teeth as he looked out the window at her house, all the lights were off indicating she wasn’t home. He sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back on the headrest. She was playing games and he was not in the mood. 

He rechecked his watch before stanching his phone out of the cup holder. “Hey Siri, call Babygirl.”  He put the phone on speaker before closing his eyes again. 

“Please leave a message for 305-” Joe hung up the phone and opened their text thread 

To Babygirl: you playin'… imma have to show you im not the one to play with. 

Egypt groaned as her date for the night, Hakiem pulled up in front of her house. Joe’s white Cadillac Escalade stood out like a sore thumb in her driveway. Hakiem, who still had his hand on her exposed thigh arched his eyebrow and looked at her. “You good.” 

“Yeah.” she sighed. “Just… don’t pay attention to anything he says.”  She opened the door and got out of his car, leaving him confused for a second before he shut the car off and followed behind her.  As they walked up the stone pathway to her house she heard the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut, signaling that Joe had got out of his car. 

“You knew I was coming to see you today.” Joe started and Egypt could feel him staring at the back of her head as she fumbled around her purse for her keys.  

“And I told you not to. We’re over Leati.”  

“I’m sorry I can’t drop everything for you Egypt. You knew about my job and how important my role in the company is to me.” He shot back. He turned his attention to the man who was blocking Joe from getting to Egypt and sucked his teeth. By the way, the man was looking at him, Joe knew that he recognized him.  “You gonna move or do I have to move you?” 

“Joe!” Egypt chided just as she opened her front door. She turned around and stared at Joe. 

“Look. I don’t know the situation or anything, but Egypt said she doesn’t wanna talk to you so maybe you should back off.” 

Joe slowly blinked before turning his attention to Hakiem. He shook his head as he started to chuckle.  Egypt gulped as she looked between the two men, she looked down at her heels and decided that she was not dressed properly to stop a fight between them. 

“Joe…” Egypt trailed off, walking around Hakiem and standing in front of Joe, placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t.”  Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “Hakiem, I’ll text you later okay?” 

Hakiem scoffed, his face scrunched up as he looked between Joe and Egypt. Hakiem’s brows knitted together, clearly not happy with the situation. He stood his ground, his jaw tight, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes as he tried to make sense of Egypt’s request. He had come here to be with her, not to play peacekeeper between her and the man who still seemed to think he had some claim over her. “Deadass?” He asked, fist balling at the smirk that was now on Joe’s face. 

“You heard her, leave.”  Joe’s smile got wider as Hakiem slightly pushed Egypt out of the way and walked into Joe’s face. Joe didn’t move an inch, still standing there, his posture confident, almost smug, as if he knew exactly what Hakiem was thinking and was daring him to act on it. “Whatchu�� gon’ do? Huh?’ 

Hakiem’s jaw tightened as he glared at Joe. His fist tightened and before he could do anything, Egypt pushed him back and stood in front of Joe. Hakiem scoffed at how she was protectively standing in front of him. “Hakiem, please. Leave.” 

“You heard the lady. Why don't you run along now? The grown-ups need to talk.” 

“Nigga I’ll fuck you up -” 

“Enough!” Egypt yelled over Hakiem. “You need to leave,” Egypt said locking eyes with Hakiem. “Now.” 

“Man, whatever,” Hakiem sucked his teeth. “You probably wasn’t givin’ up no pussy anyway.”  Hakiem rolled his eyes and stormed over to his car. Egypt could have sworn she saw him throw up his middle finger as he sped away. 

Egypt rolled her eyes and then turned to walk into her house, not bothering to shut the food behind her because she knew Joe was going to follow her. 

“We have one argument and you already tryna give my shit away huh?”  Joe smirked as he followed Egypt into the home. He shut and locked the front door and enabled the alarm. Nobody would be leaving until the morning. He toed off his Jordans and left them at the front door before walking into the living room where Egypt was sitting on the couch massaging her feet. 

“You ignoring me now?” Joe asked. 

Egypt sighed. “Why are you still here?” 

“You gonna put me out?”  

Egypt sighed again and stood from the couch. She brushed past Joe and started walking towards her bedroom. She should have shut the door in his face when she entered the house. He was so infuriating.   “What do you want?” 

“You.” 

Egypt huffed and startd to peel the bodysuit off her body. “You're unbelievable,” Egypt muttered, her back to Joe as she shimmied out of the tight fabric. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her skin.

Joe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “I'm unbelievable? You're the one who had some random ass dude at your house.”

Now only dressed in her bra and panties, Egypt turned around and glared at Joe while folding her arms over her chest.  “Let me remind you, you walked out on me. All I asked for was more of your time.” 

“And you know I come here wherever I can. I can’t just not show up to work, Egypt. I can’t be around my kids because you wanna cuddle and watch movies all day. I told you I love you and I meant it. But you gotta grow up. I can’t be with you 24/7. I’m a grown-ass man with responsibilities.” 

Egypt scoffed and shook her head. “You’re absolutely right.” Turning on her heels, she marched into her closet. Joe huffed and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to come back. When she did reenter the room, she was dressed in an oversized white t-shirt. “You’re a grown man with responsibilities and I don’t fit into your life.” 

Joe let out a humorless chuckle. “You don’t get it. I’m trying. I’ve asked you multiple times to move to Miami with me and you said no. I asked you just to visit and you said no. I asked just for you to come on the road with me, not all the time but maybe a couple times a month and you said no.  I’ve been trying to build something with you, but every time I try, you shut me out. I’m not asking you to leave everything behind, but I’ve made it clear that I want you with me. And every time, you say no. So what the hell am I supposed to do?” 

Egypt felt her resolve crack a little. Moving to Miami would be a huge step for her. She would be leaving behind her family and all her friends, most of whom she has had since middle school. Joe knew that Egypt leaving her parents behind would be hard for her. 

“I know you’re scared of leaving your parents,” he said, his voice steady but soft, causing Egypt to look up at him.“'But I’m just asking for a chance. For us to really try and make this work."

“I’m scared Joe.” She finally admitted and Joe stood up from the bed and walked over to her, pulling her into his arms. “What if I leave everything behind and it doesn't work out?” She whispered into his chest “What if we don’t work out? I don’t want to lose you, Joe.” 

“Won’t ever happen,” Joe said matter of factly. “I’m not promising you that everything will be perfect, Egypt. I promise you that we’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together, no matter what happens. I’m not going anywhere. And I won’t let you go through this alone.”  Joe gently cupped her cheek in his hand. “Do you trust me?” He whispered looking deep into her eyes. 

Her heart skipped, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. She stared back into his eyes, searching for any trace of doubt, any sign that he might not be as sure as he was saying. But all she saw was certainty—certainty in him, in his commitment to her. “Yes.” She whispered back. 

  Joe’s hand gently slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and without a word, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft at first, tentative as if Joe was giving her one last chance to change her mind. But as Egypt melted into his embrace, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more urgent.  Joe easily lifted Egypt into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Joe carried Egypt over to her bed and gently laid her down. He quickly rid himself of his black OTC hoodie and black Nike fit shirt.

Egypt did the same as she sat up on the bed and pulled the oversized t-shirt over her head, leaving her in her bra and panties again. Joe licked his lips as he climbed on the bed, his body covering hers as she laid down once again. Egypt let out a moan when Joe started trailing kisses down her neck and towards her breast. With his eyes locked onto hers, he quickly unclasped the front clasp. He cupped her breast in his hand, his thumb brushing over her hardening nipple while his mouth closed over the other.  Egypt arched her back, gasping with pleasure as Joe's tongue swirled around her sensitive nipple.

Joe's hand slid down her stomach, tracing the curve of her hip before dipping between her thighs. He stroked her through the thin fabric of her panties, feeling the heat and dampness there. Egypt gasped and rocked her hips, craving more of his touch.

“Joe.” She moaned. “Please.” 

He smirked as he released her nipple from his mouth. “Tell me you love me.” He said as he stared trailing kisses down her stomach. Egypt let out a blissful sigh and Joe dipped his tongue into her belly button. 

“I love you.” She moaned out as he scraped his teeth against her sensitive skin. Joe hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She lifted her hips to help him pull them down.

He paused and she opened her eyes to look at him. “We gon make this work. Me and you.” 

Egypt nodded eagerly. “Yes, baby. Me and you.” Her sentence broke off into a moan as Joe’s tongue finally made contact with her sensitive clit. Her back arched off the bed. She reached for his hair and let it out of the bun he had it in. 

Joe let out a low groan as her essence flowed into his mouth. Joe gripped her thighs, spreading them wider as he devoured her. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers, he winked at her before he placed a kiss on her clit. 

He smirked at her as he rose to his full height. Egypt rose to her elbows and watched as he pulled his sweatpants and his briefs down. His eyes hungrily raked over her body. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” He muttered. He climbed back into the bed as Egypt reached for him. He positioned himself between her thighs and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands roamed her curves.

Egypt wrapped her legs around Joe's waist, pulling him closer. She could feel his hard length pressing against her entrance, teasing her. Joe broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, as he slowly pushed himself into her stretching and filling her. They both groaned at the sensation.

“Fuck.” He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “I miss you baby. You missed me?” Egypt nodded, unable to talk because of how good Joe was making her feel. Joe quickened his pace, driving into her with more force. Egypt's moans grew louder, filling the room along with the sound of skin against skin. “Good ass pussy.” He muttered against her neck as sucked a hickey onto her neck. “Tryna give me shit away.”  He abruptly pulled out of her and turned her on her stomach. 

Egypt immediately got into position. Face down ass up. A small blissed-out smile on her face as she knew what was coming. Joe gripped both her ass cheeks in his hand as he spread them. He licked his lips as he buried himself back inside her. He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against her ass with each thrust. Egypt gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles turning white as waves of pleasure coursed through her body.

“This my pussy.” He growled out, “Tell me.” 

“Joe” Egypt moaned, mouth wide open. “Fuck… it’s yours.” 

“I know it is. Shit was mine from the moment I touched it.” 

Egypt felt herself spiraling towards the edge, her body trembling with each powerful thrust. Joe's possessive words and dominating presence only heightened her arousal. She pushed back against him, meeting his movements and taking him even deeper.

"That's right, take it all," Joe grunted, his fingers digging into her hips. "Show me how much you missed this dick."

Egypt cried out in ecstasy, her inner walls clenching around him. “Fuck… I wanna cum, can I cum?” 

Joe's hand snaked around her waist, his fingers finding her sensitive bud. He rubbed tight circles as he continued to pound into her from behind. "Come for me, baby," Joe commanded, his own breathing ragged. "Let me feel that pussy squeeze me."

Egypt let out a loud moan as her orgasm hit her. Joe continued to thrust into her causing her to squirt all over his lower half and her sheets. Joe stilled inside her as his orgasm hit him. He pumped into her a couple more times before dropping down onto the bed next to her and gathering her into his arms. 

“I love you Egypt,” Joe whispered after his breathing had gotten under control. “I want this to work with you. I can’t lose you either.” He said and she smiled up at him. 

“I guess I gotta call a moving company in the morning.” 

Authors Note: ... was it worth the wait? 🤭 THANK YOU FOR READING!! sorry if the ending is ass... I didn't know how to end it 😬.

🏷️ : @paigereeder @harmshake @empressdede @theninthwonder @jaethaone

@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sadnni @xmonetsworld @christinabae

@southerngirl41 @reci1996 @alyyaanna @li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste

@trashbin-nie @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @bebesobrielo @rianasixx

@kat3457 @queeny23 @cyberdejos2 @justazzi @jstarr86

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vampygomez @msbigredmachine @ashykneee @callmekayd

@yana3sworld @romansthrone @alichesmi @amandairene88 @scarlettnoir01

@bonni-98 @sassginamillls @rebelrel0987 @aikosilo @vibessonvibes

@tbmotw @nayys-world @partypoison00 @punksyeet @girlsg1rl

[droolypupboy]

thread of things you can do to feel more puppy!!

warning, this is not for puppy regressors!! this is an nsfw post and probably not safe for u if you regress while online. stay safe, sfw puppies.

anyway. back to content for puppies who r fucking degenerates. i’m a switch & not only do i own a puppy sub but i am also one!! this is applicable for both partnered and solo pups, dw, there’s likely to be something here for everyone.

૮( ˃ ꒳ ˂)ა

◟/づ🦴

🐾 grind on pillows and/or furniture!! pillows are an accessible option for everyone, not everyone has furniture they can feel comfortable doing that on because maybe they don’t live alone or what have you. but pillows are an amazing option for any and all needy puppies.

🐾 snacks can help u feel puppy a lotttt!! while it can be fun to have your partner feed you little treats, you can also absolutely do this on your own. while you’re not in the headspace, set up small little snacks for you to have for when you follow rules or actions you set up for yourself. ppl often underestimate how satisfying solo play can be!! but it can be awesome. good ideas for pup snacks can be small cookies reminiscent of dog treats (scooby snack graham cracker cookies if you’re in the u.s., highly recommend), little cubes of meat and cheese, or dry cereal. it doesn’t have to be those things though, it can be anything broken up into small pieces. be creative!!

🐾 some people enjoy eating or drinking out of dog bowls but for some, that’s inaccessible or maybe just not to their taste. another option can be water bottles with spouts you have to suck on (oral fixation is so so so puppy!!). smaller sized snack bowls also work well for this. anything notably small can help a lot with headspace i find because a large part of puppyspace for many is feeling tiny and :3. if you know you know pfffft.

🐾 here’s a simple one!! have an article of clothing or jewelry you wear only during puppy time :) of course there’s the obvious ones; harnesses, ears, collars. but even just a bracelet or a sweater can work if you only wear it during pupspace and get your brain to associate it.

🐾 if you go into the headspace online (as i’m sure many of you reading do if ur here), you can do certain typing things to help you feel even more puppy. using certain emojis or doing a little :3 or :> it’s pretty common to have your voice change tone and your words get more simple when in a smaller mindset so it can be fun to have your typing also reflect this!! typing out “woof” or “arf” r silly but they r cute and i recommend it, 10/10.

🐾 find something you can safely bite on!! nothing you could choke on or that could hurt you. chewelry is rlly good for this, i’d recommend looking on etsy for some. but you can also just buy a new actual dog toy (fresh, not used, clean it before). puppies need to teethe!! the urge to bite is super common.

🐾 if you have enough privacy, play fetch with yourself. why not?? you can bounce a ball off the walls and even if you’re in a small room where you don’t have far to get to it, you’re still pretty likely to get excitable abt it!! if you’re doing this outside don’t put the toy in your mouth, if you’re indoors you can probably feel more comfortable to do this safely if you’re using something big enough not to choke yourself with.

🐾 ride toys!! it’s hard to do things yourself, riding or suction cupping a toy to a wall so you can just lay down and move ur needy hips against it can be wonderful for puppyspace.

🐾 suck your fingers or your partners fingers!! puppies need our mouths occupied. gently chewing on fingers, probably not enough to hurt (maybe tho, good for you), just enough to feel like you’re gnawing a bit, is SO so so good. this doesn’t even have to be sexual, drifting off to sleep with fingers or a gag (nothing that you could accidentally swallow) in your mouth can help you wake up puppy!! i wouldn’t recommend sleeping with a gag in long term, that’s more for naps or on special occasions. like i mentioned before; oral fixation oral fixation oral fixation!! you should also suck toys and cock 🤍🤍

🐾 wag your hips or kick your feet!! it’s like wagging ur tail :> wiggles can come naturally when in pupspace so embrace them as ur “phantom tail” pfffft

🐾 “puppyparts” “puppycunt” “puppyholes” “puppycock” “puppyanything”🏃🏃

remember, if some of these aren’t applicable to you and how you like to play, you are not any less puppy. these are general, not one size fits all. there are countless different ways to be puppy and i don’t think any two people should be doing it the EXACT same way. we all have our quirks, we all have our individual headspaces.

have fun and play safe, puppies 🐾🦴🎾

[interlockingpatches]

Disco Ball (interlocking/double filet crochet, #10 cotton thread)

[cookie-lore-keeper]

Thread of Canon Familial Relationships in Earthbread for any new cookies or witches who are curious!

1. Walnut Cookie and Almond Cookie - Almond Cookie is Walnut Cookie's father

2. Dark Choco Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie - Dark Cacao is Dark Choco's father

3. Hollyberry Cookie is the father of Royal Berry Cookie. Royal Berry Cookie is married to Jungleberry Cookie, and Tiger Lily Cookie and Princess Cookie are their kids

5. Pure Vanilla Cookie is related to Custard Cookie iii in some way

6. Matcha Cookie is the "daughter" of Dark Enchantress Cookie, which would also make her the daughter of White Lily Cookie

7. Alchemist Cookie and Vampire Cookie are brother and sister

8. Cherry Blossom Cookie is the older sister to Cherry Cookie. Cherry Ball Cookie is related to them as well, but we don't know weather it's sister, cousin, etc

9. Sour Belt Cookie and Dinosour Cookie are brother and sister

10. Chili Pepper Cookie is the older sister to Red Pepper Cookie

[santaasi]

hazel & honey

pairing: james potter x shy!reader

summary: in a café where coffee meets quiet longing, a year of stolen glances and ink-scrawled notes brews into something more — until james potter finally decides to take his shot.

warnings: just pure fluff, no use of y/n, english isn’t my first language

word count: 2.5k

a/n: it's kinda a part two of raison d'être but you don't need to read it if you don't want to.

ᯓ★ now playing…

zayn - there you are

SPRING ARRIVES NOT ALL AT ONCE BUT IN WHISPERS — SLOWLY, GENTLY, YET UNDENIABLY.

The coffee shop mirrors the change. Heavy coats and thick woolen scarves have vanished, replaced by light jackets, bare wrists, and the crisp air slipping through open windows. The scent of cinnamon and spiced tea fades into something fresher — lavender, citrus, and the delicate sweetness of flowers blooming just beyond the door, carried in by the breeze.

And James Potter, of course, remains the one constant.

James Potter has become a part of your routine, a familiar presence threaded through your days like the changing seasons, turning the ordinary into something bright, something electric. Something that makes your heart stutter in ways you wish it wouldn’t.

It’s been a year now. A year of stolen glances over the espresso machine, of ridiculous drink experiments, of moments tucked between steaming cups and shared laughter. A year of James leaning across the counter, all bright-eyed and insufferably charming, turning the simplest exchange — How’s your day been? — into something that lingers longer than it should.

There was the time he nearly knocked over a display case trying to reenact a new play move with a ball for you. The day he walked in soaked to the bone, dripping rain onto the floor, grinning as you handed him a steaming cup without a word. The evening he showed up five minutes before closing, breathless, just to tell you he had an excellent idea for a new drink (it was, to no one’s surprise, absolutely terrible).

Somewhere between all those moments, without meaning to, he became something to you. And you don’t know what to do with that.

Even now, even after a year, you’re still shy around him in ways you can’t quite help. Still caught off guard by the way he looks at you sometimes, still too quick to drop your gaze when his fingers brush against yours, still hesitant when his laughter sends warmth curling through your ribs.

THIS MORNING, HE STUMBLES INTO THE CAFÉ LOOKING AS IF HE BARELY SURVIVED THE NIGHT. His glasses are askew, his hair a complete mess — more unruly than usual, which is saying something. His hoodie is slouching off one shoulder, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, and when he reaches the counter, he doesn’t so much stand as he does slump against it.

"Hit me with your best shot, love," he sighs.

You blink, momentarily caught up in the sight of him — tired, disheveled, undeniably James. Then, with practiced ease, you reach for the espresso beans. "That bad?"

He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. "I woke up late. Nearly missed the assignment deadline. Almost got run over by a cyclist. And Sirius won’t stop texting me in all caps about something, but I refuse to open it. At this point, my only remaining tragedy is falling into the Thames."

You laugh softly, the sound curling like steam in the air. "Devastating. But at least you made it here." A pause, a flicker of something fond curling in your chest. "Which means I get to experiment."

Because, somehow, that has become your thing.

It started months ago — one late evening, when James had wandered in, restless and curious, and told you to surprise him. You had. And then you did it again. And again. And now, it’s a ritual. No repeats, no hints. Just pure trust in whatever concoction you place in front of him.

He rates each one on a ten-point scale (so far, his highest is an 11/10 for a caramel-vanilla macchiato, which you swore was nothing special), and every single time, he leaves a receipt scrawled with some ridiculous note.

"You’re a caffeine genius."

"I would die for this drink."

"Marry me?" — that one had been a joke. Probably.

He doesn’t know you keep them. All of them. Pressed carefully in a box beneath your bed, where his words — his messy, absurd, wonderful words — are yours alone to hold.

And maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind that James Potter keeps showing up. Maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind at all.

Today's drink — a honey-lavender latte — is something soft, something delicate, something meant to dispel the thundercloud hovering over James Potter’s head. The scent of warm milk and golden honey mingles with the floral whisper of lavender, wrapping the moment in something almost tender. You slide the cup across the counter, watching as his fingers curl around the warmth.

James takes a sip, his lashes fluttering shut as he exhales a slow, blissful sigh. For a moment, the weight of his sleepless night, the stress of looming deadlines, and whatever catastrophe Sirius is surely texting about — all of it seems to melt away.

"I have ascended," he murmurs.

You snort. "That good, huh?"

He nods solemnly. "Sweetheart, if I fail this semester, I want you to know — it’s entirely your fault."

"Oh?" You arch a brow, already moving to wipe down the counter.

"Absolutely. I can't concentrate when I'm too busy thinking about your drinks."

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. "Right. Not because of poor time management?"

"Not at all." His tone is unwavering, as if this is a hill he’s willing to die on.

You shake your head and turn to the next customer, but James doesn’t move. He lingers, fingers tapping absently against the countertop, the rhythmic sound cutting through the soft hum of the café. When you finally glance back up, he's looking at you.

And not just looking.

It’s that expression — the one that makes your stomach flip, the one that sends warmth curling up your spine like steam from an untouched cup. That gaze, dark and steady, laced with something dangerous. Something unreadable.

Something that makes your heart pound far faster than it should.

Damn James Potter.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the register. "What?" you ask, trying to sound unimpressed, ignoring the way your pulse betrays you.

He only smiles, slow and knowing. "Nothing," he says lightly. "Just waiting for my receipt."

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Biting back a blush, you tear the slip of paper from the machine and hand it over, along with the pen. He takes his time, scrawling something with that familiar lazy confidence before sliding it back across the counter.

You glance down.

"9.5/10. But still not as sweet as you."

Heat rushes to your cheeks, so fast and so overwhelming that you don’t even try to fight it. A smile tugs at your lips, helpless, inevitable.

James winks.

And then he’s gone, the bell above the door chiming softly in his wake, the scent of honey and lavender lingering behind him like a secret.

AND SO IT GOES, DAY AFTER DAY.

James keeps showing up — sometimes sleep-rumpled, his glasses slipping down his nose as he yawns into his hoodie, sometimes fresh from a workout, windblown and flushed, damp curls clinging to his forehead. He drapes a windbreaker over his shoulders like a careless afterthought, all easy grins and warm eyes, always irritatingly, effortlessly charming.

And you?

You keep making him new drinks. Coconut cold brew on the first truly warm afternoon of spring, strawberry matcha latte when the scent of fresh berries lingers in the air, cappuccino with sweet maple cream on a drizzly morning when the world feels a little too gray. Each one is a surprise, a silent challenge, a reason to watch the way his face lights up with the first sip.

And James — James keeps leaving you notes.

"10/10. I’m thinking about changing my major to yours, just to see you more often." "9/10. Would’ve been a 10, but you didn’t smile at me enough today." "11/10. Maybe I’m in love. Who can tell?"

Marlene loses her mind every time she sees them. She waves them in your face, eyes wide with exasperation. "This is flirting," she huffs. "He’s flirting with you. You see that, right?"

Of course you see.

And worse — you feel it.

In the way your pulse trips over itself whenever his fingers brush against yours as he takes his drink. In the way your body gives you away before your mind can stop it, warmth pooling low in your stomach, a restless kind of anticipation curling in your chest.

But it’s James Potter.

James, who flirts with everyone. Who can make anyone feel like they’re the only person in the room.

So you tuck it away, tell yourself it’s nothing, tell yourself he’s just a regular customer. A boy with an easy smile and a penchant for ridiculous notes, who leaves you generous tips and lifts your mood on long shifts.

Nothing more than that.

And certainly nothing that should set your heart racing the way it does.

IT’S LATE, THE CAFÉ WINDING DOWN INTO THE KIND OF QUIET THAT FEELS ALMOST SACRED. The last traces of coffee and warm pastries linger in the air, mingling with something softer—the scent of wildflowers cradled in your hands, delicate and trembling.

You’re just about to lock up when the bell above the door chimes.

James Potter steps inside.

And, oh.

He looks different tonight. Too different. Not the usual whirlwind of hoodies and windblown curls, not the usual sleep-rumpled charm that makes you roll your eyes but secretly warms your chest. No — this James is something else entirely. His hoodie is gone, replaced by a loose button-down, the sleeves rolled up in a way that does unfair things to his forearms. The soft light catches in his hair, bringing out hints of copper, and his shirt stretches over his shoulders just right.

You grip the cloth in your hands a little tighter, pulse stuttering as you immediately drop your gaze to the counter, pretending to be far too occupied with wiping away an invisible stain.

It doesn’t help.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greets, slipping into his usual seat at the counter, voice warm, rich — like the first sip of coffee on a slow morning.

Your fingers twitch around the cloth. Your throat feels inexplicably dry.

“You’re here late,” you manage, setting the rag aside and washing your hands, focusing very intently on the way the water runs over your skin. Anything to avoid looking at him for too long.

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Urgent matters. But now I’m here, and– ” A pause. A breath. And then, a smile, slower than usual, softer. “I needed my daily dose of that magic you put in your drinks.”

You swallow, biting your lip to keep from smiling too much. He always says things like this, always flirts so effortlessly, and yet it still gets to you every single time. It’s unfair.

You shake your head, trying to school your expression into something unimpressed, something unaffected, already reaching for the coffee machine when–

James catches your wrist.

Oh.

Your breath snags.

His hand is warm. Big. The kind of warm that seeps into your skin, lingers in your bones. His fingers graze over your palm with something almost absentminded, a slow, lazy touch, but your body reacts like it’s something more — like it means something.

Your heart trips over itself.

You’re suddenly hyperaware of everything — the quiet hum of the café, the way his thumb barely brushes your wrist, the way your knees feel a little unsteady. You blink at him, wide-eyed, trying desperately to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

James doesn’t let go.

He’s still smirking, of course he’s still smirking, but–

But there’s something else there, something just a little hesitant, a little nervous. And that does something to you, something warm and uncertain and dangerous.

You open your mouth, not entirely sure what you’re about to say, only to close it again when you realize your voice might betray you.

James tilts his head slightly, his grip just a fraction tighter. His smirk deepens, but his eyes are unbearably gentle.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

And, well — you’re trying.

You really are.

"Actually," James says, voice unusually careful, "I didn’t come for coffee today."

You blink. "No?"

He shakes his head, then — hesitates.

And that’s new.

James Potter doesn’t hesitate. He’s all easy grins and reckless confidence, the kind of person who leaps before looking, who never second-guesses himself. But now — now his fingers twitch slightly where they’re still wrapped around yours, his gaze dropping to the point of contact. He takes a breath, deep and steady, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

"I was wondering," he begins, adjusting his glasses, "if you'd like to… I don’t know. Maybe we could go have a coffee somewhere else. With me. Like… on a date."

There’s a short circuit in your brain.

A date.

You must be dreaming. That’s the only explanation. Why would James Potter — James Potter — ask you out? You’re just the barista who makes his coffee, the girl behind the counter. Sure, there’s been harmless flirting, an entire year of ridiculous notes and lingering glances, but this?

James watches your expression shift, and something fond flickers across his face. He leans forward slightly, as if letting you in on some great secret.

"Yeah, you know," he teases. "A date. It’s when two people meet and do something romantic, and ideally– " his smirk deepens, " –one of them kisses the other at the end."

Heat flares up your neck. "James."

His grin is positively wicked. "Yes, my love?"

And, oh — he knows.

He already knows your answer, sees it written across your face in the way your fingers curl slightly against his, in the way your breath hitches, in the way you haven’t let go.

The air between you is thick with something golden, something trembling on the edge of possibility. Outside, the sky is painted in soft pastels, the scent of fresh flowers drifting in through the open door. Everything feels warm and new, like the first breath of summer. Or maybe — maybe — it’s just him.

Still, you keep him waiting. Just for a second.

"Only if you choose the coffee this time," you say, tilting your chin up slightly, feigning nonchalance even as your pulse pounds in your ears.

James’ answering smile is dazzling. He squeezes your hand, eyes shining with something you can’t name yet — but, oh, you want to.

"Agreed."

The golden light floods the café, the smell of coffee and wildflowers wrapping around you both like a promise. And when you look at James Potter, grinning like an idiot, you realize–

There is no maybe anymore.

Now, everything is for sure.

And you’re definitely glad you switched shifts with Marlene that day a year back.

thankx for reading <з

it was the most spontaneous decision to write a part two for raison d'être, but i went to this café with my friend and just couldn't stop thinking about james and barista!reader. so here we are.

you’re always welcome to share your thoughts in the comments or my inbox :3

                      – your santi 🪐

masterlist

[devildomditzy]

You’re late for your date.

Like, Late late.

And of course, if the situation were switched, you wouldn’t have minded.

In fact, you would have expected it.

But you are you and Mammon is Mammon.

So of course, his leniency for being ignored is next to zero.

He leans against the front door inside the common room of the House of Lamentation. And he looks at his watch.

4:00

4:00

You’re an hour late.

And of course, Mammon tried to play it cool at first, swiping through his D.D.D with an unimpressed look on his face. He’s cool. Nonchalant. His brothers can’t know he’s internally freaking out;

Because he’s totally not.

Of course not. No way. Not over you of all people.

But he can’t hide the jitters so graciously given to him by his nervous system.

“Are you being stood up?”, Satan calls from a nearby armchair in the room, not bothering to look up from what he’s reading.

“I ain’t being stood up! They’ll be here, they’re just…busy. Yeah, that’s it. They’re busy.”

Asmo lays upside down on the couch, scrolling on his own D.D.D.

“Of course they stood him up, they’d much rather go on a date with mwah”, he gloats from his position.

“Oi! Shut up will ya?!”, Mammon screams back, now standing rigidly, hands balled up at his side in anger, leaning into the conversation, ready to make it an argument.

As he takes another breath to get a word out, Satan cuts him off.

“Where were you going anyway?”

“Yeah, where?”, Asmo brightly echos back.

Mammon sighs, body relaxing as he slouches back into his leaning position.

“We were supposed to go to Devil Coast ‘bout an hour ago. But of course MC ain’t got a bone of urgency in their body.”

He grunts, frustratingly looking down at his D.D.D. Twenty-five messages. No replies. What was up with ya?

Asmo cackles wildly, “Maybe they forgot about you, hm?”

Mammon’s face begins to heat up with anger.

“Listen here you little-”

Satan once again cuts him off. “We all know there’s no way they’d forget about Mammon. He’s much too loud”, he says, turning his page.

“Would y’all shuddup? Jeez”, Mammon’s tone becomes lethal in a way his brothers know they should stop pushing, so they do, shooting each other concerned glances.

“Have they texted you back at all?”, questions Satan.

Mammon sighs, “No, not yet.”

He looks down at his phone, scrolling through your message thread.

2:50 PM

Mammon: Yo! Ready to go?

Mammon: I’m by the front door, I’ll be waitin’ for ya.

Mammon: Remember to bring your coat ya dummy, cause I ain’t letting’ you borrow mine this time!

Mammon: Okay

Mammon: Maybe I would let ya borrow it if you really needed it and were shivering and stuff and needed The Great Mammon’s help to warm ya up.

Mammon: But you gotta say please 😜

2:57 PM

Mammon: Alright, where are ya?

Mammon: Thought we agreed on 3:00

Mammon: Do ya need more time gettin’ ready?

Mammon: Tryin’ to look good for your first, huh?

Mammon: I’ll wait a little longer for ya.

3:10 PM

Mammon: Hurry it up, will ya?

Mammon: I understand wantin’ to look nice, but it’s ten after! Ten!

Mammon: Ya know, you’re the only human that keeps me waitin’ like this!

3:30 PM

Mammon: Okay, yer bein’ kinda ridiculous right now.

Mammon: I mean come on, ya gotta date with Mammon. THE Mammon. Ya know how lucky you are?

Mammon: Alotta people would kill to be in your position.

3:35 PM

Mammon: But of course I wouldn’t go with them. I wouldn’t go on a date with anyone but you, okay?

Mammon: That’s why you need to get yer ass down here!

3:40 PM

Mammon: You’ve got some nerve makin’ THE Mammon wait around for ya!

3:45 PM

Mammon: Whatever, isn’t like I wanted to go out with ya anyway.

Mammon: I was doin’ this for you, ya know.

Mammon: Why would I wanna be see around with some lousy human?

Mammon: What am I, yer babysitter?

3:55 PM

Mammon: Look, I didn’t mean that, alright?

Mammon: Please come down.

“Are you sure they’re not asleep?”, Satan ponders curiously.

“Nah, I don’t think so. We’ve been talkin’ about this for weeks”, Mammon says defeatedly, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

“Are you sure they’re okay?”, Asmo asks, voice laced with concern.

“Okay?!”, Mammon shoots his attention to the avatar of lust. “Wah- what- why wouldn’t they be okay?”

Asmo looks around sheepishly, bringing his nails up to his lips to bite them, something he never does unless he’s either A) super stressed or B) covering something up.

Mammon steps towards his brother, anger beginning to boil, knowing what his mannerisms mean. “Whadda you know that I don’t?! C’mon, spill it!”

The urgency in his voice compels Asmo to speak, knowing how sensitive his brother is when it comes to you.

“Well… I promised them I wouldn’t tell you…”

“Tell me what?!”

His brother remains quiet for a moment.

“Asmo…”, Mammon threatens dangerously.

“Ugh, okay I’ll tell you”, Asmo sighs, mumbling quickly under his breath, “MC, please forgive me!”

Mammon stares at his brother impatiently as he starts,

“Well, MC came to me the other day after class. I knew something was wrong because there were tears in their beautiful eyes”, Asmo lays his hand across his forehead as if he were faint.

“Skip the dramatics and keep talkin’!”

“Okay, sheesh. So MC came to me and told me they haven’t been feeling very good lately.”

“What, are they sick or somthin’?”

“No no, nothing like that. More like, their brain feels sick? They said they don’t really know why, but they’ve been feeling bad about themselves lately - which I told them was totally ridiculous! AND I offered them a full makeover WITH facial and they denied it, but that always makes ME feel better.”

Asmo pouts before continuing, “Plus, with all the extra work Lucifer and Lord Diavolo have been giving them with the student council, they said they feel like they’re under so much pressure, they’re gonna crack soon.”

“Why ain’t they tellin’ me any of this!?”

“Because,” Asmo says annoyed, “they don’t want to upset you!”

“What? That’s ridiculous!”, exclaims Mammon.

Asmo matches his volume, “I know right?! That’s what I told them! But they said you were so excited about your date that they didn’t wanna ruin it- hey, where are you going!?”, Asmo yells as Mammon walks out of the room.

“Where’d ya think! I’m gonna go talk to MC!”, Mammon yells back.

So that’s why you weren’t there? You’ve been hurting? For awhile it seems, and you didn’t tell him?

He’s gotta admit, he’s a little hurt. But he knows this isn’t about him right now.

It’s about you.

Mammon didn’t know he would be nervous to see you until he was standing in front of your door. What if says the wrong thing and makes it worse? What if he can’t help you at all? What if he made you feel this way?

Okay. He realizes with that last one that he’s spiraling. Time to fix this.

He lifts a shaky hand to your door, knocking three times rhythmically - the one you know is his knock. And only his.

He cringes when he hears your weak voice choke out a small “come in”.

The room is dark; All the lights are out and it’d be pitch black save for the window next to your bed, illuminating your form, a shivering lump hiding under your blanket.

He lets out a sigh as he walks further in. He should have known about this. He should have been able to pick up on this. Boyfriend of the year, huh?

You sniffle as you pop your head out from under your hiding place.

“H-hey Mams”, you hiccup, giving away the tears that still stream down your face. “I-I’m sorry I ruined our date. I should have texted you, I-I just…”

Mammon walks till he’s leaning right over you, hands on his hips. “Uh-uh, I don’t care about that right now. What I do care about is you, mainly why didn’t ya tell me you were feelin’ like this before our date?”

The tone is his voice gives way to his own hurt, and you can’t help but start to cry again at the sound of it, knowing it’s your fault.

“Shh, shhh,” he quickly sits down on the bed next to you and puts an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. “I ain’t mad at ya or anything, I just wanna know why.”

He knows why; Asmo told him. But, he wants to hear it from you.

You pull your arm out from under the blanket (and Mammon’s hold) to wipe your face. “I’m fine really, it’s just”, you sniffle, but Mammon cuts you off.

“Ya clearly not, c’mon MC”, he says, oceanic eyes meeting yours and - it’s hard not to crack under that gaze. “Tell me what’s the matter, please.”

Mammon stares at you in silence, signaling that it’s your turn to talk, and he would quietly listen. As long as you trust him, he’d always listen to whatever it is you have to say, no matter what.

You sit up a little straighter, pulling your arm out from under the comforter to wipe your tears. Composing yourself, you look into his eyes. His face softens at the sight.

Clearing your throat you start, “I don’t know. I’ve just been so overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed with what? All that work Lucifer and Lord Diavolo keep pushin’ on you? Tell ‘em to shove it!”

You shoot him a dangerous look. “We both know I can’t do that.”

“Sure ya can, I do it all the time!”, Mammon proudly declares, making you smile brightly and chuckle.

“And you always end up hanging from the rafters”, you laugh.

“I never said I got away with it”, he replies, smiling just as brightly back.

Your giggle peters out as you begin to speak again. “I’ve got so much more work to do and so little time to do it”, you frown. “And I’ve been pushing myself really hard! And- I dunno. I guess it’s taking a toll on me.”

“Yeah, Asmo said you were havin’ it pretty rough.”

At the mention of Asmo’s name, you shoot upwards in shock.

“He told you?!”

“Course he did. Did ya forget which ones of us you can trust with secrets?”.

You grumble in anger. “That little - UGH! I’m gonna kill him.”

“Let’s put murder on the back burner,” Mammon says, pushing your shoulder to lay you back down in your slouching position. “How’s ‘bout ya tell me what’s really bothering’ ya and I’ll help ya threaten the primadonna later, yeah?”.

You give him the side eye, but collapse under his gaze. Curse those eyes! You swear he can put you under some kind of truth spell with those things.

“Fine. I guess… it’s just… I…”

“Any day now, Treasure.”

You make an exasperated noise and glare at him. “You know it’s not fair to use that word on me when I’m upset.”

“When you’re upset at me. And yer not upset at me right now, right? Please say right”, he finishes his sentence with a sense of urgency, now worried that he could be the cause.

He’s wracking his brain for anything he could have said or done recently that made you upset. Are you mad at him cause he teased you the other day when you did your makeup differently. He told ya he only did it cause he liked it. Are you mad because he cheated off of you in potions class? Well, he’s your first, dammit! You should be helping him anyways. That’s what a loyal subject does.

“No, no it’s not you. I just haven’t been feeling very good about myself lately.”

“What! That’s ridiculous!”, he shouts and - he’s trying to be helpful in his own way, but his raising voice makes you wince. He notices, quickly shifting his tone. “I mean, what’s there not to like, doll.”

You smile to yourself at the nickname. He’s trying his hardest to be sweet. You should try your hardest to let him in on your thoughts a bit too.

“I don’t like the way I look. I’m not pretty, I’m not cool, I don’t even know what you see in me.”

“Don’t be dumb, MC!”

“Mammon, look at you! You’re you. You’re one of the seven demon lords of hell, you’re a whole model, and you’re one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met - Devildom, Human Realm, or celestial! You know you’re hot, so I’m worried…”, you trail off quietly.

“Worried bout what, MC?”, he asks at your hesitance, worry evident in his eyes. He places his hand on top of yours on the bed without breaking eye contact.

“…I’m worried that one day you’ll realize you’re too good for me and leave.”

“Leave? Whaddaya talkin’ about? How would I leave? I live here too ya know”, he says, poking your nose.

“You know what I mean, Mammon”, you say swiping his hand away from your face. “You’ll leave me.”

Mammon rolls his eyes, waving a hand towards your direction dismissively. “Oh yeah, I’ll leave you alright. That’s exactly why I was waitin’ for ya at the door for an hour to take ya on a date. Cause I wanna leave ya soooo bad. Do ya see how ridiculous you sound?”.

You sigh, eyes looking towards the bedsheets as you play with his hand that has found its way back to yours. You don’t look up as you speak. “See, I didn’t even come down for our date. Or text you. I just moped around up here. Im a terrible partner. And I’m sure you’re gonna realize it soon.”

Mammon makes a ‘tch’ noise with his tongue, before grabbing you by the chin and making you look into his eyes, making you gasp in surprise.

“And ya think I’m such a great boyfriend, huh? I’m just the best? The guy who spends his free time at the casino runnin’ up scams? The guy who used ta blame his screw ups on ya to get outta trouble? Yeah MC, I’m a real peach. Cream of the crop if ya ask me”, he lectures, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What are you trying to say”, you question, grabbing his wrist to take his hand off your chin, to which he carefully obliges.

“I’m sayin’ that I’m not so great myself. But you still love me, right?

“Yeah, and?”

“Exactly. I’ve got flaws, we’ve all got flaws, even father had flaws, clearly”, he mumbles the last part under his breath.

“I wouldn’t stop lovin’ ya over any dumb thing like looks or status. In fact, I can’t think of a single reason why I’d stop lovin’ ya, ya dumb human. Sorry ‘boutcha luck, but yer stuck with The Great Mammon forever”, he jokes, ruffling your hair.

“What about when I die? I’m human, you’ll outlive me by a long shot. Don’t you want to be with someone, I don’t know, with the same…life span as you?”

“Nah, I’ll still love your dumbass skeleton when you’re a stupid ghost.”

“How romantic.”

“Listen. My point is I’m yours and you’re mine. That ain’t changin’, alright? And I’m not mad ‘bout our date, we’ll reschedule it. Just next time, ya could let me know before I stand by the front door for over an hour like a jackass. My brothers got enough to make fun of me over already.”

He pulls a little smile out of you with that last one.

“And about all that student council junk Lucifer and Lord Diavolo keep thrown’ on ya, I’ll talk to them. Maybe they’ll let you divide it up between all of us, alright?”.

You sniffle, wiping your face once more and shaking your head in an affirmative nod. “Sounds good. Thank you, Mams. I’m sorry.”

“C’mon now, quit yer apologizin’. It’s fine. You apologize for somethin’ like that again, I’m tellin’ Beel you ate his pudding from Madam Screams.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I’ll dare alright, ‘n then some”, he jokes, tackling you to the bed. “Why don’t we watch a movie or somethin’. You gotta make up the lost date time you owe me.”

You laugh at his antics, agreeing. “Okay, okay. I’m on it.”

As you sit in front of your shared DVD collection to pick tonight’s selection, you throw your voice over your shoulder.

“Hey Mams?”

“Yeah?”, he asks from his spot on your bed, scrolling on his D.D.D.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Treasure.”

[dailypokemoncrochet]

Crocheting is just so underappreciated and people have absolutely no idea the work that goes into it.

Reddit comment thread when I posted a picture of a bunch of different pokemon crochets and someone wanted to buy some:

This wasn't even for something really simple like an Oddish that's basically a ball and leaves. It was like Tentacruel Cloyster Abra Kingler and more... $10 for two. Max $20 for one. And they weren't even rude or mean about it, people just straight up have no idea the value.

[d0litte]

HEADCANONS. Art Donaldson x Fem!reader

Tw: smut

₊˚⊹⋆ Can't help but get clingy with you even when you're around tashi

₊˚⊹⋆ Who already knows that Tashi noticed the way his pupils dilate whenever you appear in front of him and don't say anything

₊˚⊹⋆ Who spoils you and recognizes this, always being mocked by Patrick about how you commented about wanting a watch and the next day having it in perfect condition on your wrist

₊˚⊹⋆ He insists on having you in the front row, so you can see him win or lose, as long as you have the best view

₊˚⊹⋆ He started winning more games after you started watching him play, Tashi doesn't complain and doesn't even hesitate to invite you when she can to watch him

₊˚⊹⋆ That he can't help but be worried when you leave without warning, calling you, sending you messages and even thinking about the possibility of coming after you, wherever you are

₊˚⊹⋆ He's an idiot and every time he finishes playing he comes to hug you, no matter how sweaty and disgusting he is, he knows the difference in strength between you and him, and he knows that you would never be able to get out of his grip (he just doesn't hug Tashi because he knows she would punch him

₊˚⊹⋆ begs you to try playing tennis, which doesn't happen because even though he plays weakly with you, you can't catch the ball at all

₊˚⊹⋆ He loves to grab you, no matter if you're in public or alone, when he sees you he just runs to your small body in contrast to his, and hugs you, your face hitting his chest

₊˚⊹⋆ Can't even hide how he hit the tip of the racket against him crotch every time you leaned over to get something he needed

₊˚⊹⋆ Who started winning over and over again after you started rooting for him, always looking at you and looking for validation and a thread of pride in you, like a puppy wanting its owner's attention.

₊˚⊹⋆ Who spied Tashi telling you that if you were having sex, or he was in love with you, it didn't matter, as long as you supported him in whatever he was doing because only then would he be able to win

₊˚⊹⋆ Who gave subtle hints that he wanted you to wear shorts and tight skirts, making a point of buying from the best brands and giving them to you as gifts with some stupid excuses like "Tashi had seen them in a store and gave me the idea of buying them for you" you don't even bother to pretend that you believed it, how are you going to believe it when he is stuttering, while his fingertips turned white from squeezing the straps of the bags with different short clothes

₊˚⊹⋆ That every time he wins a very important match he runs to you and Tashi and casts glances in silent permission to hug you

₊˚⊹⋆ begged you to join his team, Damn, he had money left over to hire 10 helpers but he insisted on hiring you to do what? get him water, accompany him?

₊˚⊹⋆ Who is noisy, you've always known that, and he knows that, always whimpering when he kisses you, and it was worse when you had sex, feeling tears streaming from his eyes whenever he was close to cumming, as he grabbed your waist and put his face in your neck

₊˚⊹⋆ Who needs to hear or tell you every minute that he loves you while he fucks you so hard and squeezes your wrist so hard that you know it will leave ugly marks that are difficult to hide

₊˚⊹⋆ During the day, he calls you different pet names like darling, baby, candy, or something so outdated that you'd want to vomit if he wasn't the one saying it, but while you're fucking he gets worse, whines for hours about how you are so good to him, and how you are the love of his life

₊˚⊹⋆ he is the definition of "make love" he doesn't curse you, and he treats you so well that it hurts

₊˚⊹⋆ loves eating you out, he simply gets drunk on your pussy, pulling you to his face and eating you like he's been hungry all week

₊˚⊹⋆ Always comes up behind you and rubs the visible bulge in his shorts against your ass, he has no shame on his face

₊˚⊹⋆ He rolls his eyes and moans very loudly when he cums, he simply can't control it and his body has a life of its own

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE — PART ONE

paige x azzi

trope: enemies to lovers

warnings: language

word count: 4.3k

A/N: I got a lot of request for an enemies to lovers series so here it is! In this one they both grow up in DC/Virginia to give it a better arc and make it more of a slow burn. I'm also going to experiment with POVs more in this series. This first chapter is pretty much just setting the scene on what's caused them to dislike each other so much. Let me know what you think!

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

March 2018 

The gym was alive with the roar of fans, the bleachers packed to the brim as the Washington D.C. Girls Basketball Championship unfolded. The two teams on the court weren’t just competing for a title; they were locked in a battle of pride and supremacy that had been brewing between the schools for years. 

On one side was Gonzaga College High School, led by the blonde, brash point guard Paige Bueckers, the number one player in the class of 2020. Less than 10 miles and a 20-minute drive away was St. John’s College High School, boasting its own star, Azzi Fudd, the number one player in the class of 2021.

The rivalry between their schools ran deep, stemming from heated football clashes that had been going on for decades, but it was quickly spilling over into the girls' basketball programs. Paige made sure of it. She’d been playing with a chip on her shoulder against St. John’s ever since they handed her team a bitter loss in last year’s championship game her freshman year. To her defense, she had been playing on a bum ankle after rushing herself back to help the team in the playoffs, but the sting of the loss had stayed with her. Sp every time she faced St. John’s, Paige was out to prove a point—and tonight was no different.

Azzi, meanwhile, was laser-focused. She didn’t care about last year because she wasn’t there, though she’d heard about it. But what mattered to her was this year, this game and everything going forward. But she couldn’t ignore how insufferable Paige could be. Earlier this season, Gonzaga had handed St. John’s their only loss in conference play, and Paige had been at the center of it, running her mouth the entire game.

“What’s wrong, Fudd? Can’t handle the pressure?” Paige had taunted during their first matchup, grinning as she drained a step-back three. “Don’t worry freshie—I’ll teach you how it’s done.”

Azzi had kept her composure back then as Paige chirped in her ear, but tonight was different. The stakes were higher, the score tied, and Paige was playing like she owned the court.

As Paige brought the ball up the court, her eyes scanned the defense, locking with Azzi’s. That trademark smirk spread across her face.

“Let’s see if you’ve learned anything since last time,” Paige quipped, her voice loud enough for Azzi to hear.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her hands ready, her feet planted. “Maybe you should focus more on scoring then on talking,”

Paige didn’t answer with words; she let her game speak instead. A possession later her quick crossover sent her defender stumbling, and Paige took the opening, driving hard to the rim. Azzi was there in an instant, meeting her midair and forcing her into a tough layup. The ball clanked off the rim, and Azzi grabbed the rebound, her intensity growing.

As she sprinted back down the court, she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. “You should really take my advice, Bueckers, that was pretty bad.”

Paige let out a breathy laugh at finally getting some words out of her, jogging to catch up. “Keep talking, Fudd. You’ll see how it ends.”

The game continued at a blistering pace, the two stars going back and forth, each trying to outshine the other and pull their team to a win. The tension on the court mirrored the years of animosity between their schools, the rivalry growing with every possession.

Azzi hit a pull-up jumper over Paige, earning a roar from the St. John’s crowd as she ran back on defense. Paige came right back, threading a no-look pass for an assist and stopping to blow a kiss to the Gonzaga section of the stands.

Every play, every word exchanged, added fuel to the fire.

For Azzi, it wasn’t just about the championship anymore. It was about shutting Paige up, proving that despite what the media said she was the best player in the DMV. For Paige, it was about reclaiming what she felt was hers—revenge for last year and dominance over St. John’s. It didn’t hurt that she was getting some competition going against the ‘best shooter’ in basketball. 

The crowd could feel it: this wasn’t just any game. They were watching two greats go at it and it was rare to see two household talents come from the same area like this. 

The gym pulsed with energy as the clock ticked down in the fourth quarter. Neither team could pull away, and the intensity between Paige and Azzi burned brighter with every possession.

Azzi moved with purpose, slicing through Gonzaga’s defense and rising for what looked like an easy layup. But Paige came out of nowhere, her hand swatting the ball as it went soaring into the crowd with authority.

“Get that weak shit outta here!” Paige yelled as she flexed both arms, the sound carrying over the roar of the crowd.

Azzi landed hard, her jaw tightening as Paige ran past her. 

Azzi didn’t let it faze her. The next possession, she caught the ball on the wing, her defender sagging just enough to give her space. With a quick dribble, she stepped back, rising for a three-pointer that sailed over Paige’s outstretched hand and splashed through the net.

Azzi held her follow-through for a second longer than necessary, then smirked as she turned to face Paige. “You might wanna put a hand up quicker next time.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed, her grin twisting into something more dangerous. Azzi had no idea how much trash talk fueled Paige's game. “Alright, Fudd. You wanna talk shit now? Bet, watch this.”

The next few plays were a blur of brilliance, all led by Paige. She weaved through defenders with ease, hitting a floater over two St. John’s players. On the next possession, she stripped Azzi at midcourt, sprinting ahead for an uncontested finger roll to add a little extra. The Gonzaga fans erupted, sensing the tide was turning  in their favor.

Azzi tried to respond, driving hard into the paint, but Paige was there again, cutting off her angle and forcing a wild layup that missed off the rim.

“Don’t force it, Fudd,” Paige taunted as she grabbed the rebound and passed the ball up the court. “This is my game now.”

Paige called for the ball on the wing, sizing up her defender before nailing a step-back three-pointer that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Gonzaga’s bench jumped to their feet, and Paige being the competitor she is, turned and gave a little shrug to the St. John’s crowd as she put her index finger to her lip showing that she had silenced them.

Azzi clenched her jaw, glaring at the scoreboard as Gonzaga’s lead stretched to eight. She could feel the championship slipping away, and Paige was at the center of it all with a cocky ass smirk.

The final buzzer sounded moments later, sealing Gonzaga’s victory. Paige’s teammates rushed the court, surrounding her as part of the gym erupted in cheers. Paige soaked it all in, her arms raised in triumph, while Azzi stood frozen near midcourt, her hands on her hips.

Azzi’s chest heaved with frustration as she watched Paige celebrate. She hates losing, but losing to Paige made it so much worse for some reason. Paige caught her eye from across the court, giving her a small, smug wave.

The Gonzaga team revealed in their championship victory, while the St. John’s players trudged back to their bench, disappointment etched on their faces.

The teams soon lined up for handshakes, the air between them still a little tense. To the crowd, it was a display of sportsmanship—players exchanging congratulatory words and polite smiles. But when Paige reached Azzi, the energy shifted.

Paige extended her hand, pulling Azzi in close as if to offer words of encouragement. Her voice dropped to a low murmur, just loud enough for Azzi to hear over the noise.

“Get in the gym, Fudd,” Paige said, her lips curving into a smug grin. “That’s what 2-0 now? Better catch up.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, and her eyes flashed with irritation. Scoffing, she pulled back, brushing her shoulder against Paige’s as she moved past her.

“You’re such a bitch,” Azzi muttered under her breath, not bothering to look back as she continued down the line.

Paige’s grin widened as she watched her Azzi walk away, the satisfaction of the win lingering just a bit longer knowing she proved she was the number one player for a reason today. 

December 2018

The rivalry between Gonzaga and St. John’s had only gotten more competitive in Paige's junior year and Azzi’s sophomore season. Every time these two teams met, the tension between Paige and Azzi electrified the gym as the crowd fed off of each of them.

Once again the gym was packed, the crowd deafening as Gonzaga and St. John’s went back and forth in a high-energy conference matchup. Paige, with her trademark poise and undeniable confidence, was on fire tonight. She was hitting everything — pull-up jumpers, threes from deep, tough finishes at the rim. With each basket, her smirk grew, and the energy around her was palpable.

By the time the fourth quarter rolled around, Gonzaga was clinging to a three-point lead. Paige, however, had already racked up 35 points and was showing no signs of slowing down. As the ball was swung to her on the perimeter, Azzi closed out hard, trying to force Paige to drive, but Paige just gave a sly grin and pulled up for a deep three-pointer as Azzi’s hand was down.

Swish.

The crowd erupted, and Paige didn’t even look at the basket as she turned to Azzi, her smirk widening.

“You might as well put on a Gonzaga jersey, Fudd,” Paige taunted, she jogged backwards to get on defense. “I’m scoring on you every time.”

Azzi’s teeth clenched, her jaw tightening as the frustration started to build. She had already been pushed to her limits with Paige’s relentless trash talk the whole game. So the next time Paige got the ball, Azzi was determined to make a play.

Paige drove past her on the right wing, using her speed and quick handle to get to the basket. Azzi did everything she could to keep up, playing great defense, but Paige made the offense look effortless, finishing with a smooth layup through contact. Paige landed on her feet, staring Azzi down as she straightened up.

“I really should start a clinic,” Paige continued, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “on how to defend me... I’ll give you some pointers after the game if you want.”

Azzi’s temper flared, the words cutting through her like a hot knife. Even the calmest person in the world got a little fed up here and there. She was feeling the heat of Paige’s relentless taunts, and the more Paige scored, the more Azzi’s focus shifted from the game to the battle unfolding between them.

When the ball was passed back to Paige, Azzi moved to cut her off, determined not to let Paige get an easy look this time. But as Paige shifted her body to drive past, Azzi made the mistake of reaching out with a little too much aggression. Her hand caught more of Paige’s arm than the ball as she went up for a shot, sending Paige tumbling to the court with a sharp thud.

The whistle blew immediately. Azzi froze, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't meant to foul that hard, but the anger that had been building inside her made the contact feel more like a release than a mistake.

As the referee called for the foul, Azzi immediately ran her hands down her face, her face flushed with regret. She hated that she let her emotions get the best of her, especially when it came to a player like Paige. This wasn’t who Azzi was. She was better than this.

Without thinking, Azzi reached down to help Paige up, her voice soft, almost apologetic. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But before Azzi could finish, Paige yanked her arm away, her face a mask of anger and disbelief.

“Fuck you,” Paige spat, pushing herself off the floor and standing to her full height. She didn’t look at Azzi, her eyes cold and distant, filled with a harsher fire than what Paige usually plays with.

Azzi stood frozen, the sting of Paige’s words cutting deeper than she expected them to. But she deserves it so she took it in stride. The gym felt like it was holding its breath as the physicality increased, but Azzi didn’t want to dwell on the exchange. She turned away from Paige, heading back to her position as the crowd buzzed with tension.

The game continued, and though Azzi fought to keep her head in the game, it was clear the emotional toll was taking its toll on her. Paige, on the other hand, was unstoppable. She drained another three, her confidence soaring. Gonzaga was up by five, then eight. The scoreboard ticked down, and every time Paige had the ball, it felt like another dagger.

With under a minute left, Paige hit another step-back three, this one over Azzi’s outstretched hand, and it was clear the game was over. The gym erupted as the buzzer sounded — Gonzaga had won 78-66, and Paige had just set a career-high.

As the players lined up for handshakes, Paige felt the weight of the win settle in. But she didn’t feel any empathy for Azzi. No pity. No remorse. The girl couldn’t even handle a little trash talk without purposefully fouling. Paige knew she had silenced the noise, the trash talk, and everything else with a performance that couldn’t be denied by anyone who watched the game.

When she reached Azzi in the handshake line, she extended her hand, but it was more of a formality than anything else. Paige leaned in just enough to murmur, loud enough for Azzi to hear, “Maybe next time you’ll get closer if you don’t piss me off.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed, her entire body tensing as she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Bueckers,” she muttered, brushing past Paige without another word as she continued down the line.

Paige watched her go, the sense of satisfaction lingering, and though she didn’t say anything, she knew Azzi wouldn’t forget this game.

…

Azzi adjusted the strap of her bag, her knee still a little sore as she limped out of the locker room with Ice packs wrapped on her leg. The sting of the loss was fresh, and the energy in the hallway was a mix of chaos and adrenaline. Reporters lingered around the halls, their voices carrying snippets of postgame chatter as they jostled to capture every quote.

Azzi tried to tune it out, focusing on getting to the bus. She was already replaying the game in her mind, agonizing over missed shots and what-ifs. But as she passed the press conference room, a question snagged her attention.

“Paige, what was it like playing in such a competitive matchup with someone who’s also considered one of the top players in DC if not the entire nation?”

Azzi slowed, her ears pricking at the mention of her name—or, at least, the implication of it. She paused just out of sight, listening.

There was a brief pause, then Paige’s voice cut through the chatter. Calm, confident, and just loud enough for Azzi to hear.

“I always love a competitive matchup,” Paige said, her tone light but unmistakably self-assured. “Games like that are what make basketball fun. It’s why I play. I love when there’s passion in the game like that.”

Azzi felt her shoulders relax slightly. That wasn’t so bad.

But then Paige kept going.

“That being said, I think I showed everyone why I’m the number one player in D.C. tonight and my team was able to come out with the win.”

The words hung in the air, and Azzi’s jaw tightened. Paige’s voice had an edge to it—a playful jab, but one that landed a little too close to home.

Gripping the strap of her bag tighter, Azzi moved down the hallway. She wasn’t going to let Paige’s words get to her, but damn if they didn’t light a fire under her for the next time they met. 

March 2019

St. John’s and Gonzaga met once again in the championship game and honestly to Paige and Azzi it felt like deja vu. To everyone else watching this was the matchup they had grown to anticipate. The two guards always putting on a show. It wasn’t just about the title anymore; it was personal. Paige and Azzi both had more to prove than anyone on the court.

Azzi, standing tall at the top of the game and undeniably one of the best in the country, wasn’t about to let herself walk away with an 0-4 record against the cocky blonde. She’d been putting in the work all season, and despite the gnawing frustration of those past losses, she was determined to make this game different. But there was also something else driving her — the weight of being named Gatorade’s National Girls Basketball Player of the Year, as a sophomore. The title had earned her respect across the nation, but not in Paige’s eyes.

For Paige, that honor felt like a slap in the face. She had dominated the court all year, and everyone knew she was the best in her class and had beaten Azzi already this season. For Azzi to get that recognition before her, it stung more than Paige would care to admit to anyone. It was the kind of fire that pushed her to fight harder, to prove that no sophomore was going to overshadow her. She had something to prove — not just to Azzi, but to herself.

As the game tipped off, it was clear that neither of them had any intention of holding back. Azzi, with her perfect shot and effortless off ball movement, seemed to hit shots that defied logic. A step-back three from the corner with a hand in her face? Swish. A deep three from the logo, well beyond NBA range? No problem. The crowd erupted every time her shot dropped, but Paige wasn’t about to let Azzi get too comfortable.

On the other end of the floor, Paige was doing her thing: a mixture of quick ball-handling, aggressive drives to the basket, and, of course, her signature flashy layups that got the crowd involved. One of them, a twisting, acrobatic finish through a crowd of defenders, had the crowd gasping in awe. She flashed a grin as she jogged back on defense, eyes locked on Azzi, who was already making her way down the court.

“You’re not gonna be able to keep up again, Fudd,” Paige taunted, her voice loud enough for Azzi to hear as she took her position. “This is my game, you’re just along for the ride.”

Azzi smirked, not breaking her focus as she got into her shooting stance. “We’ll see when this game’s over,” she shot back, her confidence unwavering.

The back-and-forth continued like that throughout the first half, neither player willing to back down. Every time Paige hit a flashy layup, Azzi came back with a deep three. Every time Azzi sank another impossible shot, Paige answered with a smooth jump shot of her own. The crowd was on its feet the entire time, watching two of the most talented players in the nation go toe-to-toe, each one refusing to give an inch.

But as the game wore on, the pressure started to mount. With the score neck-and-neck, the trash talk grew sharper, each jab cutting deeper. Azzi, with a quick hesitation move, crossed Paige up and drilled another three in her face. The crowd went wild as Azzi celebrated, but it was the words that followed that set Paige off.

“I guess that Gatorade Player of the Year really means something, huh?” Azzi quipped, her smile wide and taunting. “I think I earned that one, Bueckers.”

The words hit Paige like a punch to the gut. That recognition — the one that had bothered her for weeks — was now in Azzi’s hands, and the realization that Azzi had just used it against her was too much to handle.

Paige’s eyes narrowed, the fire inside her intensifying.

“Keep talking, man,” Paige snarled, voice low.

The rest of the game continued and Azzi seemed to be in complete control, hitting another deep three in Paige's face and then hitting a step-back jumper that had the crowd roaring. Paige tried to respond, but something in her game was off — whether it was Azzi’s defense or the mounting frustration of the game and the award Azzi had rubbed in her face, she couldn’t find her rhythm anymore.

With the game winding down, St. John’s had gained a slight but undeniable lead. Paige’s shots weren’t falling as easily as they had earlier, and Azzi wasn’t letting up. Each time Paige tried to make a play, Azzi was right there, forcing her to pass or making her take tough looks.

Finally, with just seconds left, Azzi hit another clutch three, sealing the game for St. John’s and finally giving her a win over Paige. The buzzer went off, and Azzi’s team erupted in celebration, the crowd going wild. Paige, on the other hand, stood frozen for a moment, her chest heaving as the weight of the loss hit her a little harder than it did her freshman year.

As the teams lined up for the post-game handshake, Azzi walked toward Paige, her smile wide with triumph. When they shook hands, Azzi didn’t hold back.

“Guess it’s 1-1 when it counts, huh? Looks like POTY went to the right player after all,” Azzi said, the words dripping with satisfaction.

Paige’s heart felt like it sank to her stomach. The Gatorade loss had already stung, but now Azzi was rubbing salt in the wound. Still, Paige held her composure, her eyes narrowing as she shook Azzi’s hand.

“Congratulations,” Paige muttered, forcing a smile. Paige hated losing but she wasn’t a sore loser. 

But Azzi wasn’t done. As she walked past Paige, she threw in one final jab.

“Maybe you’ll get it next year.” Azzi’s tone was sweet, but the smirk on her face said it all.

Paige watched Azzi go, her jaw clenched tightly. She wanted to say something, anything, to retort, but she knew the damage had already been done. Azzi had gotten her win — and the bragging rights. For now, Paige would have to swallow this defeat and figure out how to come back stronger and take the jabs that were coming her way. 

July 2019 - Azzi POV

I was on top of the world. After winning the championship and being named the Gatorade National Girls Basketball Player of the Year, I felt like nothing could stop me. Playing in the US Under 18 3x3 Tournament was everything I’d worked for, and I was thriving out there. Every move I made felt perfect, every shot dropping like it was scripted. The crowd was eating it up, and I was feeding off the energy.

But just like that, everything changed.

I was driving to the hoop, sizing up my defender, already thinking ahead to my next move to get past them. My first step was quick, explosive like always — exactly how I’d practiced it a thousand times. I planted my foot to make a sharp cut, my body flowing into the motion like it was second nature. But then… something snapped.

It wasn’t the sound of my foot hitting the court. It was a horrible, sickening pop that shot through my leg like it had been on fire. For a split second, everything froze, and I just knew.

My knee. It wasn’t supposed to buckle like that. I didn’t even have time to scream as the pain hit, like a burning wave spreading from my knee up my leg, down to my toes, into my core. I collapsed instantly, my hands going straight to my knee, trying to hold it together as if somehow that would stop the agony.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I couldn’t focus on anything except that searing pain.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, my voice cracking as I tried to breathe through it, my hands gripping my knee as if I could will the pain away. But it only intensified.

I couldn’t move. Every attempt to shift only made it worse. It was like my entire leg was on fire. I barely heard my teammates rushing to my side, their voices muffled as if I was underwater. All I could think was, This isn’t just a twist. This isn’t something I can shake off.

I knew it — deep down, I knew something was wrong. My knee felt swollen already, pulsing with heat. The pop I heard didn’t sound good. Please, please don’t be serious, I thought, even though I knew better. 

“Azzi, what hurts,” my coach said, kneeling beside me, but I barely registered it. All I could think about was how unfair this was. I was supposed to be dominating, supposed to keep riding this wave of success. I was invincible, damn it.

But now, here I was, on the ground, clutching my knee like it was my lifeline — and I had no idea what was next.

The pain started to build, and my mind raced. ACL? No, MCL? My head spun with all the worst-case scenarios. This wasn’t how I imagined this tournament going. This wasn’t how I’d imagined anything going this summer.

My chest tightened as I sat there, trying not to lose it in front of everyone. I didn’t want to break down, didn’t want to show them how scared I was. But I could feel the tears threatening to spill. I wiped them away, blinking rapidly, but it didn’t matter. My body was shaking.

I just wanted to be back on the court. I wanted to keep proving myself, keep pushing. But in that moment, all I could do was sit there and hold my knee, hoping like hell this wasn’t the end.

[the-merry-otter]

Potage From Meat

(15th century Italian)

"Take lean meat and let it boil, then cut it up finely and cook it again for half an hour in rich juice, having first added bread crumbs. Add a little pepper and saffron.

When it has cooled a little, add beaten eggs, grated cheese, parsley, marjoram, finely chopped mint with a little verjuice. Blend them all together in a pot, stirring them slowly with a spoon so that they do not form a ball. The same may be done with livers and lungs."

2 1/3 lb stewbeef 4 cups water "Rich juice": 31 oz (3 cans) concentrated beef broth 1 1/2 cups dry bread crumbs 3/4 tsp pepper 8 threads saffron 5 eggs 1 1/2 cups grated cheese (~ 7 oz) 3/8 cups chopped parsley 3/4 tsp dried or 1 tsp fresh marjoram 1 1/2 tbsp chopped fresh mint verjuice: 3 tbsp wine vinegar 1 tsp salt (to taste)

"Bring meat and water to a boil and cook 10 minutes; take meat out and cut up small; put back in water with broth, bread crumbs, pepper, and saffron. Simmer 1/2 hour over low flame, being careful that it does not stick. Mix in remaining ingredients; cook, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes. This makes about 10 cups.

This is a rather meat-rich version; it also works with as little as half this much meat."

Source: Cariadoc's Miscallany

Otter's notes:

I used two beef stock cubes which was fine.

I wasn’t sure how small the meat should be cut, so I did pieces of a couple centimetres diameter. This worked well in my opinion.

I don’t enjoy skimming the scum off water I’ve boiled meat in, so I used fresh water for the second part. I did not find the result lacking in flavour.

Cariadoc isn't kidding about it sticking. Make sure to stir every 2-4 minutes. Stuck doesn't necessarily mean burned though.

It’s sooooo so tasty, can recommend

[girlactionfigure]

The return of the hostages from Hamas captivity is of the utmost importance to Israel. 

I thought it might be helpful for some of you to hear just a bit more about certain individuals that Israel is releasing in order for that to happen. The sacrifice being made.

A thread: 

1) Mohammad Abu Warda, responsible for 2 bus bombings in the 90s which murdered 46 people.

He made it clear at his trial that he would never stop murdering until Israel was destroyed. He was given multiple life sentences.

Now he'll be freed. 

2) Arafat Irfaiya. In 2019 he raped Ori Ansbacher, a 19-year old, and stabbed her to death. He was sentenced to life in prison, plus 20 years.

Now he'll be freed, and no doubt treated as a hero.

3) Zakaria Zubeidi, former Jenin commander of the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade. Responsible for the 2002 terror attack in Beit Shean in which 6 were murdered. In 2019 he was charged with shooting attacks on civilian buses.

There will be widespread rejoincing in Jenin when he returns.

4) Bilal Abu Ghanem. In 2015 he and a fellow terrorist boarded a bus and began shooting and stabbing passengers. Three died, and dozens were wounded. 

He received 3 consecutive life sentences.

Now he'll be freed. Here are two of the people in their 70s who he murdered.

5) Wael Qassem and Wissam Abbasi, leaders of the Hamas-affiliated Silwan cell. Responsible for the carrying out of multiple bombings in the Second Intifada, which killed dozens (one of these bombings, at the Cafeteria at Hebrew University in 2002, pictured).

Now to be set free.

6) Ahmed Barghouti, relative & close associate of Marwan Barghouti.

Ahmed is responsible for a number of terror attacks, including a notorious mass-shooting in 2002 at a reception hall in Hadera (pictured) where people were celebrating a Bat Mitzvah.

Now to be freed.

7) Mahmoud Atallah. Given a life sentence for murdering a Palestinian woman who was accused of collaborating with Israel. More recently, manage to sexually assault and rape female prison guards. 

Now to be freed.

8) Ashraf Zughayer. Hamas leader accused of involvement in the 2002 bus bombing on Allenby Street in Tel Aviv, which killed 6 and injured dozens.

Now he'll go free.

9) Tabet Mardawi of Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Responsible for multiple terror attacks, including suicide bombings at stations in Binyamina (pictured) & Afula, a bombing at a bombing at a restaurant in Kiryat Motzkin (pictured).

Now he'll go free.

10) Nassim Zaatari. Received multiple life terms for his role in a 2003 terror attack when a suicide bomber detonated a five-kilogram device packed with ball bearings on a crowded bus in Jerusalem. 23 murdered, including 7 children.

Now he'll be free.

11) Ahmad Obeid, was sentenced to seven life terms for his role in sending out the suicide bomber responsible for the 2004 Café Hillel terror attack in Jerusalem.

Now he'll be free.

12) Leili Abu Ragila. Was serving life imprisonment for his role in the 2006 kidnap and murder of a high school student, Eliyahu Asheri (pictured).

Now he'll go free.

13) There are many more. Murderers. Terrorists. They will go free. They will be greeted as heroes when they do.

Israel is in an impossible situation. The hostages taken by Hamas *must* be freed. But a terrible price is being exacted for that to happen. 

14) Jews around the world rejoice with the families of those who have been reunited with loved ones released by Hamas yesterday.

We also grieve with the families who are seeing those terrorists responsible for their loved ones' deaths walk free. 

15) One more thought, if I may. You will see media outlets, certain commentators, even some politicians, trying to equate the hostages being released by Hamas with prisoners being released by Israel.

As the above thread shows, such a comparison is grotesque. Show them the truth. 

16) I know this thread will not have been pleasant to read or see. I hope, however, that if you have read this far, you found it informative. Please do share it if you found it helpful. 

*Thread ends* 

@Daniel_Sugarman