#nba kids shirt

[annievrse]

[college] basketball!eren

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons a/n: guys i’m back in the waiting room (& it’s fkn hot today)……… let’s write some headcanons!!

a few points i've made in my bf!eren headcanons:

in basketball games against certain colleges, bf!eren gets so fired up and aggressive and lippy. he talks so much shit on the court (he's known for it), and isn't afraid to take shit either (which pisses off the other team, and the whole cycle starts again). but, it's a bonus for you when he gets off the court because he's looking extra hot..... and he knows it...... asshole

you wear bf!eren's spare jersey to his basketball games

bf!eren with a chain under his basketball jersey, his hair tied back and a thin headband, tape on his dodgy shoulder......... oh lordy

bf!eren's post-game meal is 3 big macs and 2 mcchickens AND a kids nugget meal (he wants to give you the toy that comes with it because he’s cute) but don’t forget dessert!! he sips his *diet* coke as a palate cleanser and then inhales an apple pie

bf!eren gets a job coaching a kids' basketball team, and that is a canon event

now i will elaborate....

basketball!eren wears nba jerseys in everyday life with sweat shorts & dunks/vans/birkenstocks (with socks) he is an effortlessly stylish college athlete ok he can pull off anything

basketball!eren has a piece of sports tape around his wrist with your name written in marker <3 (points to it whenever he scores if you aren’t there (e.g. games on the other side of the country), otherwise his finger is on you in the crowd)

whenever his favourite team is playing (call him basic, call him a bandwagon, but my man is in love with steph curry, so you know he supports golden state) & he can’t watch at home on the tv, basketball!eren sits and watches it on his phone (warning: he will speak to the phone like the team can hear him so keep an eye on him in public, especially at the library because he will yell)

basketball!eren got mvp in sophomore year (jean was like 2 points behind him) and he holds it over jean’s head because he is cheeky and a dick

basketball!eren wears a suit to and from his games (specifically a navy one with a white shirt, no tie, and its just so rahhhhhh) with his headphones on and a large cup of black coffee

now, i don't want to expose basketball!eren here, but in his headphones, only on game days, he plays taylor swift & rihanna

basketball!eren texts you nonstop when he's on the bus/plane to games (because connie is his seatmate (he loves him to death) but connie knocks the fuck out on these trips so eren gets very bored)

basketball!eren wears his hair in 2 styles when he plays: completely tied back with a thin headband or fully out with a thin headband (frothing over here sorry don't look at me: heavy emphasis on the 2nd style though)

basketball!eren has like a couple hundred thousand followers on instagram because he's a college basketball player and he's good and hot as fuck

basketball!eren posts photo dumps once a fortnight as a wrap-up for that time period because his life is so crazy hectic that he always has content for a new dump (i wish he was real guys)

basketball!eren loves loves showing you off (private but not secret on social media) & buying you gifts (instagram stories of your wrist with the new bracelet he gifted you for your birthday)

basketball!eren gets drafted in his senior year of college :') (chooses to graduate first and then go to the nba - he wasn't studying biomedical science for nothing!!! (not that he needs it anymore.......))

basketball!eren gets rookie of the year in his first season (crying)

[skepsiss]

For the @steddiesummerexchange to @stevesjockstrap!

Batter Up: Chapter 3 of 5

Read [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Rated: Explicit

Summary: This fluffy story is about Baseball Player Steve Harrington, meeting Rock Star Eddie Munson and the whirlwind 1-week romance turned committed relationship. They're instantly obsessed with one another, but neither knows how to take things to the next level. Enjoy Steve being a love-sick idiot! (The story turns explicit in Chapter 4, other chapters are all fluff).

They're officially on their date! Steve is for sure putting on the cheesy moves and it is 100% working on Eddie.

Read Chapter 3 below, or [read it on Ao3]

Big thank you to @thefreakandthehair for beta reading for me and helping me with my NBA terms!

Graphic made by me!

“I didn’t know what to wear,” Eddie confessed as he got out of his black SUV. Any other time, Steve would have smiled and told the person he was with not to worry about it. He was used to having friends who didn’t know a thing about sports, and the fact that they had zero concept of what to wear to the batting cages wasn’t that strange. Any other time, Steve would do that. This time, he couldn’t do anything other than stare. 

Eddie looked bashful, but that only added to the pie as he stood there with lily-white skin, covered head to toe in tattoos for the world to see. Lots of skin. He was wearing cut-off jeans so short, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if Eddie told him the last time he had worn them was 1983. Cut off jeans, and a baggy T-shirt that was so badly moth-eaten that it had to be on purpose. You could see through to his ribs in places, exposing yet more tattoos to the sunny, Indiana day. 

Eddie’s driver pulled away and left him standing there, looking more like a kid being dropped off for his first day of school than a hot date. But— no, that wasn’t correct. Eddie looked fucking divine, and there was nothing kid-like about him other than his air of sheepishness. “It’s… fine,” Steve swallowed, trying to look Eddie in the face and being met with his own reflection in Eddie’s shades. He even had his hair tied back in a messy bun, and Steve might have needed to sit down for a moment if he kept looking. 

He peeled his gaze away instead, looking down at the bag of baseballs he was holding at his feet. It gave him something to do as he tried to wipe his mind clean. “I brought some extra gloves,” Steve offered, taking the spare pair out of his back pocket and somewhat blindly tossing them in Eddie’s direction. Eddie scrambled to try and catch the gloves, seemingly flinching back and cupping his hands at the same time. It was awkward as hell and it did something devilish to Steve’s stomach. He was a dead man. He was a dead-fucking-man. 

“Do you have to wear gloves?” Eddie asked, as Steve slung the ball bag over his shoulder and indicated for Eddie to follow him. “No, it’s just easier on your hands. No, uh, palm calluses and stuff,” Steve explained as he heard Eddie huff a laugh behind him. He half turned to glance at the other, noting that he had his hand up and one of the gloves pulled over his fingers. “Well, they definitely don’t fit,” Eddie replied, sounding amused as he waggled his hands in Steve’s direction. 

“Oh,” Steve said simply, staring for half a beat and then turning around again to hide any hint of a flush. “Oh…” Eddie repeated back to him, his tone sounding a touch playful in that flirtatious way. It made Steve’s back prickle, and he tried not to get too caught up in the idea of that so he wouldn’t get lost in a fantasy before they even made it to the cage. 

“We have chalk, we’ll just use that,” he explained, opening the chain-link door to the batting cage and letting them in. “Everyone have the day off?” Eddie asked, clicking the door shut behind him as he followed Steve. “No, we just have the hour booked,” Steve explained, dropping the bag with a heavy thud and steeling himself before turning to look at Eddie again. Eddie was a hair taller than him and looked completely lost standing there. It was beyond cute, and Steve noted that he hadn’t been this excited to just practice batting in a long time. It was like he was a teenager again. He needed to get a hold of himself so he could move things along. “You’ll probably have to take these off,” Steve indicated, taking half a step forward and carefully taking Eddie’s sunglasses off. He tried to flash a charming smile, but Eddie just stared at him owlishly as Steve carefully folded the sunglasses and handed them back to him. “R… right,” Eddie replied, pulling in a breath as he accepted the glasses. “Don’t want to get smashed… in the face.” “No, that would be a shame,” Steve said, trying to sound confident and complimentary. Eddie laughed a bit in response, and Steve turned away to chew his lip at how utterly adorable and awkward that was. “You’ll be wearing a helmet, so it should be okay.” “I have to wear a helmet? Won’t, uh, my hair…” Eddie half asked, waffling as Steve busied himself by loading the balls into the pitching machine. “Yeah, actually, turn around. I’ll fix it for you,” Steve offered, clapping his hands against his thighs to get rid of any dirt before turning back to face Eddie. He was staring at him still, and Steve made a little spinning motion with his finger before Eddie turned abruptly, so his back was to him. “We’ll take it real slow,” Steve offered, intent on using this as an opportunity to flirt. “You can watch me a few times if you’d like, just get a feel for it.” “Alright…” Eddie replied quietly as Steve carefully untied his hair and finger-combed it out.   “You can watch a bit, and I’ll slow the machine way down so you can have a go. You ever held a baseball bat before?” Steve asked, carefully gathering Eddie’s hair and tying it into a loose ponytail at the back of his neck. Eddie’s hair was a bit dry, but Steve had to admit that it felt nice to be handling longer hair like this. Maybe he was just fantasizing, but he wouldn’t mind doing Eddie’s hair for him if he asked. “Uh… if I have, it wasn’t to play baseball,” Eddie replied cryptically, and Steve paused as he processed that. “What?” He asked, chuckling a bit as he let go of Eddie’s hair, to smile stupidly at him. It didn’t really matter if he understood or not, because Eddie simply glanced over his shoulder and floored him with a single look. He was grinning, and he looked so cheeky that Steve wasn’t sure how to respond. It was like he had awoken some kind of devil from his slumber, as Eddie’s lips curled and his eyes creased with an impish joy. “I’ll tell you about it another time,” Eddie offered, turning and backing away so he could lean against the cage wall.

“Sure,” Steve replied a little too earnestly, his brain just excited at the prospect of there being ‘another time’.

Steve brushed past that and flicked the machine on before indicating for Eddie to follow him to the outside again. “It can get a little loud,” Steve explained as he picked up his helmet and donned his gloves. “I’m a metal musician, I can handle loud,” Eddie confirmed as he leaned forward against one of the bars outside of the cage while Steve selected his bat. “Right…” he breathed a bit lamely, testing the weight of each bat as if it mattered, the pitching machine thumping and spitting out the balls behind him. “It’s all timed,” Steve continued, trying to brush past his own nervousness. “It'll be slower for you so you can get a handle on it, but it’s just steady intervals, nothing fancy.”

“Are you known for your batting?” Eddie asked as Steve got into the cage and waited to step up to the plate. “Some people say that…” Steve breathed, not even needing to try to sound confident, as Eddie set him up for the perfect line. Steve’s bat cracked loudly as he swung and launched the pitch into the canvas at the far side of the cage. Despite the warning, Steve heard Eddie gasp at the impact, and he couldn’t help the smug smile that spread across his face. “It’s all in the hips,” Steve explained, re-centering as he readied himself for another pitch. “You plant your back leg, twist your hips, and— follow through.” Steve swung again, hitting this ball a little late and sending it into the corner of the cage. It would have been a foul in an actual game, but Steve wasn’t here to actually practice, and somehow he doubted Eddie would know the difference. “I think I flunked every gym class I ever attended,” Eddie lamented, and Steve glanced over at him. He was standing with his elbow propped up and his chin in his hand as he leaned forward like he was a rancher watching his pasture. “I think I’ll… study your swing a bit more,” Eddie mused, sounding calmer than he had a few moments ago. Steve just laughed and held the bat up, preparing himself for another swing. 

“Suit yourself. Won’t judge you for being the scholarly type,” Steve teased, hitting another ball and just letting himself focus on his sport. He batted a few more times, trying his best to exaggerate his form for Eddie’s viewing pleasure, before eventually stepping away from the plate and back toward the door. “You want to give it a try?” He asked, leaning up against the fence and talking to Eddie through the chain-link. “Uh… I’m pretty good with just watching,” Eddie waffled, smiling despite Steve noting that he had started to fidget. “Come on, it’s fun. I’ll reset the machine.” He flashed Eddie a charming smile before scooping up a few balls and walking back over to the pitching machine. He reset it as he indicated, and slowed the pitch down as much as possible before heading back to Eddie. 

“Helmet,” he said, giving Eddie an extra one and watching him hesitate to take it. 

“I’ll go in with you, don’t worry,” Steve teased ever so gently, and waited for Eddie to put the helmet on before opening the door to the cage for him. “I feel like an idiot,” Eddie sighed, wobbling his head and then knocking on the side of the helmet with his fist. “You look fine,” Steve laughed, touching Eddie’s arm and handing him the bat. “You look way—” Eddie started, before yelping as a ball whizzed past him. “Jesus Christ, that scared me!” Steve snorted loudly and covered his mouth, turning away to hide how utterly fucking charmed he was by Eddie’s overall demeanour. “Shut up!” Eddie chastised, but he didn’t sound that upset, more just embarrassed. “I’m not used to this crap, you knucklehead!” Steve chewed his lip, trying his best not to reveal how big he was smiling. This was totally not Eddie’s scene, and his wardrobe, body language, and attitude screamed that. Steve had never considered that he would positively adore a guy who seemed like his polar opposite. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Eddie grouched, jabbing Steve in the thigh with the bat before Steve finally composed himself and turned around. “Sorry, sorry, it was just… quite the reaction,” Steve explained, before approaching Eddie. “Here, I’ll show you how to stand.” Steve was shameless as he approached Eddie and took his hips, turning him so he was facing the right direction. “Push your shoe in,” Steve said softly, stretching down Eddie’s leg and touching his knee so he’d plant the right foot. “Okay, lift your arms up, bend like this.” Steve went through the motions of taking Eddie’s forearms and lifting them, noting that Eddie felt stiff and awkward in his hold. He was being obvious with the flirtation, but Eddie hadn’t complained yet. “Wrists loose, but upper arms stiff,” Steve instructed, talking in Eddie’s ear as he leaned over his shoulder. Steve was looking at the pitching machine, but he could tell that Eddie wasn’t paying attention to anything but him right now. “Just keep your eyes on the prize,” Steve mused, letting go of the bat but not pulling back from Eddie very far. Silence followed the action, and Steve eyed Eddie’s unconventional body language. He was watching Steve, even though he was in something of a batting stance, his eyes hooded. 

Another ball whizzed over the plate, and Eddie yelped a second time, stumbling back and away from the batting box. “You’re supposed to hit it!” Steve said, laughing again as he smiled broadly at the musician. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” Eddie yelled, his face moulting with blotchy red patches. “Just swing, just swing,” Steve repeated, taking another step back to give Eddie space. “Get into your stance, and swing.” Eddie huffed and seemed to angrily step up to the plate before lifting the bat. His stance was all wrong, but Steve kept his mouth shut as he watched him, taking the beat to admire Eddie from behind. Eddie swung with a grunt and actually managed to make contact with the ball, but he had no follow-through. The ball struck the bat noisily, sending noticeable shockwaves up Eddie’s arms, before knocking the instrument out of his grasp. 

The bat clattered to the ground loudly, and Eddie yelled before backing away from the plate. “Ow! Fuck!” he shouted, shaking his hands out and backing directly into Steve. “Not too bad,” Steve lied, catching Eddie by the shoulders. “You’ve got to finish the swing, though.” “Is it supposed to hurt?” Eddie asked incredulously, frowning as he looked over his shoulder at Steve. He looked adorable like that, so Steve pulled a bit of a face to tease him. “Let me see,” he joked, but took Eddie’s hands anyway, helping him turn. 

Eddie moved willingly and didn’t increase the space between them at all as Steve lifted his hands and looked at them. He made a point of considering them before looking at Eddie, who seemed transfixed by his actions. “I think you’ll survive,” Steve said easily. He hesitated for a moment as he stared at Eddie, watching his dark eyes and how puppy-dogish he looked gazing back at him. Steve had been thinking about Eddie all week, there was no way around that, and he had been kicking himself at the end of every one of those interactions for not just kissing him. Eddie was the first guy he was certain he was attracted to and actually wanted to pursue, but he couldn’t help how that tied knots in his stomach. It was nerve-wracking to make the first move, but he knew he’d regret it if he let his opportunity slip away again.

Steve kept eye contact as he lifted Eddie’s hands again, kissing both sets of knuckles before lowering them. He wanted to say something clever at the end, but that felt secondary as he watched Eddie’s gaze dart across his expression. They were locked in this quiet, powerful moment, and Steve felt as if he had lost his tongue with the romantic swell in the air. It felt almost magical. Eddie seemed to miss the memo, as Steve felt him pull his hands away before he was instantly ripping off his helmet and tipped Steve’s headwear to the ground, too. It was almost shocking how quickly Eddie moved, and Steve was hardly able to make a noise before Eddie’s fingers were in his hair and his mouth was against Steve’s lips. Steve stumbled backward as Eddie advanced on him, pushing him up against the wall of the batting cage. Demanding and rough, it didn’t take much more for Steve to tangle his fingers into Eddie’s hair and open his mouth for the musician to kiss him fully. Jesus, it was hot, and Steve didn’t care at all that Eddie tasted like cigarettes and chewing gum. He kissed back earnestly and was rewarded with Eddie groaning loudly into his mouth.   “Fucking hell, Steve,” Eddie growled, and Steve felt a shiver roll up his spine. He kissed him again, but this kiss was much softer as Eddie pressed in close. “Take me home… you’re fucking… unreal.” Steve swallowed at that comment, breathing against Eddie’s lips as Eddie finally opened his eyes lazily and they stared at one another. 

“Yeah, I—” Steve tried, catching his breath as he let one of his hands drop to Eddie’s waist, just to touch. “I want to— I want to, I just… I sort of have to… clean up before we go. This is, like, the team’s space and— I have to leave it tidy.” Eddie blinked at him, obviously a bit surprised by that answer, as another ball thwacked into the wall behind him. 

He glanced at the pitching machine and then back at Steve, processing before letting go of him. “Oh, uh, yeah, of course,” he replied, obviously not sure what to say. “No, but like, really,” Steve breathed, laughing awkwardly as he trailed after Eddie a bit. “Like, I really want to. And I will— if— if you’ll let me. If this didn’t totally… kill it for you.” Eddie just sort of stared at him, and Steve pushed forward on impulse to peck Eddie on the lips, not wanting to move away. “This— I’m not finished, I swear. Just give me a minute,” Steve indicated, backing away from him as he started to hastily pick up balls and move toward the door. That appeared to work, and Eddie smiled at him before he covered his mouth with the back of his hand and looked away. It seemed like he was trying to hold back a laugh—a good-natured one at that. 

If Steve’s idiocy was charming to him, he didn’t have anything to complain about. “Promise,” Steve drawled, walking around the outside of the cage and back to the pitching machine. “Yeah, okay,” Eddie chuckled, reaching down to pick up the bat. “I can wait a little longer.” 

Read Chapter 4

[pancakeke]

I watched Tremors (1990) the other day and when the annoying teen character was first introduced he was wearing a blank lakers jersey with a couple inches of the bottom cut off. what the hell was that about. it had the NBA logo embroidered on it but no lakers logo or number or anything.

later the same kid was wearing a purple and teal long sleeve shirt and I swear to god it's a blank hornets shirt but I can't prove it. also it appears that the cuffs and hem of the shirt were cut off (evidenced by how you can see the knit material curling outward). why was this kid's wardrobe chopped up?

[barbiegirldream]

thats what makes it dumb dream is a minecraft youtuber not a super hero. ���anyone can be dream” why would they want to be when he’s the consistent target of hate campaign after hate campaign just for making youtube videos. it works for spider-man because he’s a fictional super hero with an anonymous identity, it doesnt work for dream. and thats just my opinion

okay in my opinion you're a moron. sorry if you think Dream does everything to appeal to the losers on twitter with no jobs and no friends you've just never understood him

no 12 year old who sees Dream at the NBA finale is going to think wow Dream is probably getting harassed for that they're gonna think wow that's really funny and cool and maybe I will wear my (insert whatever the kids find cringe today) shirt to school tomorrow. Dream is not trying to be an actual super-hero. But the word role model you could look it up and then maybe go re read Dream's past pastebin and understand him a little better

[wandering-words]

avanine prompt 25 plsss

Thank you for the ask! Still working on these, but keep sending them in if you have any soft prompts you want to see!

Set in a universe in which Ava doesn’t work at Abbott.

***

Janine had never been great at time management. Even when she was a student teacher, she was warned by her mentor teacher that her lessons were too perfect, too thought out, and that it didn’t give her the flexibility she needed if she under- or over-estimated the duration of an activity.

Of course, in college she was taught to make lesson plans that were methodical, but it soon became apparent that it wasn’t sustainable.

In her first year at Abbott, Janine found herself walking through her apartment door around 9 or 10 o’clock, exhausted. The bags under her eyes were practically cemented into her skin, and her eyes were often droopy. She was awoken too many times during her lunch period by the bell, and she was spending so much energy planning and grading and doing other tasks that she didn’t even have time for the peppy optimism she usually exhibited.

It had taken a long time for Ava to open up to Janine, to finally ask her out (because Janine was too oblivious to do it herself), ask Janine to be her girlfriend, and now she was worried about Janine’s long hours at the school. She barely saw the shorter woman anymore except early in the morning, and Janine only spoke a shallow “good morning,” pressing a chaste kiss to Ava’s lips before she was heading out the door.

Ava worried that Janine was wearing herself out too much. She knew that Janine had learned to suppress her feelings, that she’d never been nurtured as a kid and tried to only express her emotions in the safe recesses of their apartment when she was alone, but Ava found herself wanting to nurture her girlfriend the way she never had been.

Friday nights were somehow worse. Janine would trudge into their shared apartment, worn out, and she would be so exhausted that she didn’t even make it to the bed, she’d just crash on the couch.

Tonight, Ava was determined to change that.

When Janine opened the door, a loud yawn escaped her mouth. Ava was there to meet the shorter woman, taking the many bags that had started making their way into the crook of Janine’s arm. (No one had told Ava that over time teachers acquired more and more bags to bring to and from school.)

Janine looked up at Ava, her expression tense yet exhausted, her eyes watery. Ava felt herself melt at the sight, and she placed the bags carefully near the doorway before placing a finger under Janine’s chin, raising her head slightly. When Janine’s eyes were locked on hers, Ava took Janine’s hands in her own.

“You’re going to bed properly tonight, Janine. Even if that means I have to help you.”

Janine laughed a hollow laugh before tears started rolling down her cheeks.

“Is this some kind of intervention?” Her words were quiet, nearly choked by the tears running down her cheeks.

Ava had a hard time being soft and vulnerable with Janine, but seeing Janine so small, so defeated, made something twist in her stomach.

“I’m worried about you.”

The words came out thickly, like cough syrup down a sore throat. When Janine squeezed her hands, bowing her head as her sobs grew louder, Ava knew that it was going to take more than just communicating verbally to help her girlfriend.

Ava took Janine’s hand, guiding her up the stairs to their shared bedroom. Janine sat down on the bed, looking small and vulnerable as if she wanted to curl up into herself and disappear. Ava rifled through Janine’s side of their shared dresser to find a pair of sweatpants and a Golden State Warriors t-shirt.

(Janine was a big enough basketball fan that instead of it being weird that Ava’s ex boyfriend was none other than NBA star Andre Iguodala, she was impressed and wanted to keep at least one t-shirt.

Ava letting her keep it had nothing to do with the fact that Janine said it smelled like her.)

Then, as if on autopilot, Ava was undressing Janine carefully. Untying her hair, removing Janine’s sweater, feeling the tensing of Janine’s muscles at the cold as she did so, placing the shirt over Janine’s head, watching as the material practically swallowed her girlfriend.

It was cute.

Before Ava could get lost in the visual image of Janine in her clothes, she was helping Janine out of her skirt, relishing Janine’s fingers on her shoulders as Janine fought to keep her balance.

Ava was about to head into the bathroom to help Janine remove the minimal makeup on her face, but Janine was tugging on her hand, coaxing Ava to sit next to her on the bed. Then Janine’s face was tucked into the space between Ava’s head and shoulder. Ava couldn’t help but shiver when Janine was speaking again, her warm breath tickling Ava’s skin.

“I’m so tired,” Janine whispered.

“I know, baby, but we need to get the makeup off of your face. It’s not good for your complexion.”

She could hear Janine’s soft laughter at that, and Ava couldn’t help the small smile that grew on her face.

Janine’s laughter had to be a sign that Ava’s tender care was working for her.

“Okay.”

Ava grabbed a packet of makeup wipes and sat down on the bed, using one hand to cradle Janine’s chin and the other to wipe the makeup off of Janine’s face. The foundation glided smoothly off of her face and onto the wipe, and a part of Ava wanted to kiss the lip gloss off of Janine’s lips, but Janine was struggling to keep her eyes open, a struggle that Ava could see getting harder and harder with every passing minute, so Ava focused on the task at hand.

Janine without makeup was just as pretty as Janine with it, and Ava found a warmth bloom in her chest and a fond smile rise on her face, wondering how she got so lucky.

Then Janine was crawling into bed and Ava was following, wrapping her arms around Janine’s torso as the shorter woman snuggled into Ava’s chest, her curly hair tickling Ava’s chin as she cradled herself in the warm fortress of Ava’s body.

Ava heard Janine’s breathing even out almost immediately. Before Ava knew it, she was asleep, too, listening to her girlfriend’s steady breathing and vowing to take care of her every single night.

[addictedtostorytelling]

@sarasidlesaid tagged me

thanks for the tag!

if you get this, answer with three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs! anon or not, doesn't matter, lets get to know the person behind the blog <3

when i was a kid, one of my brothers accidentally knocked out first my one top front baby tooth and then the other in two separate play-related accidents just a couple of weeks apart from each other. neither one was actually loose at the time, so i spent most of first grade without any top front teeth.

though i don't blog about it much, i actually spend an obnoxious amount of time watching/following professional basketball (nba and wbna).

this last christmas, my four brothers and one of my sisters-in-law and i all got matching power rangers pajama shirts from my parents as gifts and loved them. we range in age from twenty-five (my youngest brother) to thirty-seven (me). i was the pink ranger.

—and since mine is the blog where tagging games go to die, how about if anyone wants to play, they say i tagged them and @ me in the post? please and thank you!

[will-o-the-witch]

Okay so anon who sent the original Game Awards ask here

Apparently the kid is Jewish himself? His name is Matan Even, and he’s done stuff like this before, specifically getting the attention of a crowd cam in an NBA game and flashing a “free Hong Kong” shirt and pulling a similar stunt at a Blizzard panel.

Overall the consensus seems to be that he’s a vaguely left-leaning clout chaser, earlier today he did a streamed interview with a guy who is seemingly only famous for a situation from a few years back where he brought attention to a weird botnet operation on twitch after it gave him 3 million fake followers for no discernible reason. I’ve still got finals stuff to do so I can’t watch that now but the story seems like it might be more complicated than I originally implied.

I mean left-leaning clout chasers can still say antisemitic shit and that's still bad, but also I genuinely have not been paying a speck of attention to this kid, don't know what awards show this was, nor do I particularly care to pay attention to it

[signalwatch]

Women's World Cup 2023 Starts

Sport is funny.  If you are paying attention to a sport, it can appear everywhere.  But the minute you tune out, it's just a thing that exists that occasionally enters your line of sight.  

I don't watch NFL or NBA anymore.  NBA made itself too hard to watch via their TV strategy, and if I'm going to spend one day a weekend watching football, it's going to be college ball. But y'all know I also spend a ridiculous amount of time watching the Cubs and now Austin FC.  

Way back in '99, I somehow got wrapped up in watching Women's World Cup.  And, honestly, it's hard to top the excitement of that WWC win.  But I don't really even remember how I tuned in, I just remember being very onboard watching the team playing a sport I fundamentally didn't understand except for "ball goes in net gets you points".  

It's not that I didn't play soccer as a kid.  We all did.  But the rules for kids were different, and I played defense, so the "strategy", such as it was, was to stop whomever was driving the goal from doing so.  It wasn't brain surgery.  But once you start watching soccer a lot, you realize how *hard* this game is, how much strategy is in play as an absolute constant.   But I also know and understand how to folks watching, it can just look like 20-odd people in matching shirts running around a field of grass.     

Anyway, I've watched some or part of the Women's World Cup since 1999 every four years.  I've tried to watch the National Women's Soccer League with minimal success inbetween, mostly because coverage was spotty, and we had no local team for me to follow.  But...  then I got Paramount+ recently to watch my crew on Star Trek: Strange New Worlds and found out NWSL is on Paramount.  Horrible timing for 2023, as I was only going to gear up for the World Cup, but now I know!  Also, I need to pick a team, I guess, til Austin gets one.

ALSO:  Austin's Q2 stadium is only occupied every other week, and is a great stadium, and, I'm just saying...  we could use a team.  

Because, honestly, having a team to care about changes everything.  I knew nothing about MLS four years ago, soccer culture, etc...  and now it does take up a part of my life that the Houston Rockets, San Antonio Spurs, Phoenix Suns, Packers, Cowboys and other teams and sports once occupied.  I can't dedicate the time to it of the serious or hardcore fans, but I am following the team, fan groups and whatnot, and watch most matches either live or as soon as I get home.

And, I have been tracking what news I could cobble together on the USWMNT, pretty much following the end of the last World Cup, through the (wildly misogynistic) pay discrepancy lawsuits, team selection and watched some matches this year - you'll note how many movies I've been watching has dropped a *lot* as sport fills in the spots.

Anyway - the World Cup has started, and I've been watching matches.  They're showing on Fox Sports in English, and the coverage is honestly really good.  If you can tolerate Alexei Lalas.  Which I cannot.  But I persevere. 

The US looked pretty good in their first match versus a Vietnam that looked insane out there, and I think nerves got in the way of better play.  We have 14 players who were not on the last squad.  But we do have some key veterans (Crystal Dunn, Megan Rapinoe, Rose Lavelle, Julie Ertz, Alex Morgan etc...) and I expect we'll settle in next match.  

This is the push for a third World Cup title for the US, and it's easy to say "well, US programs for young women are way ahead of the rest of the world, of course we'll do well" but NO.  I mean, yes, it's true.  But it's also true everyone else is catching up.  China has been good for years, Japan won a while back.  And I'd argue England looks like a problem for our team.  

The competition should be tough, and from what I'm seeing, the play is really good.  

Anyway - I don't know if I can get folks to watch something they otherwise wouldn't - but the next match is Wednesday the 26th against the Netherlands.  It should be well worth your time.  And keep in mind, soccer matches are about 2 hours all told, so you won't lose your full evening.

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Los Angeles Chargers Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross 2024 T shirt

My stepfamily – my brother, brother’s wife, and her kids (which he adopted) – have many wonderful qualities, but organisation is not one of Los Angeles Chargers Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross 2024 T shirt. Even when I was 15 my brother (18 years older than me) would call me, panicking, on Christmas Eve, wanting me to come shopping and help pick out stuff for his girlfriend. Now that he’s married and in his fifties, he no longer calls me for shopping help, but I expect he still leaves a lot of it till Christmas Eve. This year I’ve been texting him and my niece since September, asking what to get for my nephew and his partner (who I don’t know that well, and I’ve never met his partner), my niece’s partner (ditto), and five kids (I was never an average kid and have no idea what to buy children, as shown by a couple years ago, when I bought the 3-year-old a box set of the Chronicles of Narnia, and then was startled when I was gently told that 3-year-olds can’t read. I taught myself to read with Enid Blyton at 3, and my dad gave me Narnia by the end of that year, but apparently this is not the norm).

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Los Angeles Chargers Stand For The Flag Kneel For The Cross 2024 T shirt

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"All American Gamer: Uniting Gaming Enthusiasts Across the United States"

The All American Gamer embodies the spirit of gaming culture in the United States, representing a diverse and passionate community of players from coast to coast. This archetype encompasses a wide range of gaming experiences, from casual mobile players to hardcore console and PC enthusiasts.

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Typically, the All American Gamer grew up with iconic American-made franchises like Halo, Doom, and Grand Theft Auto, while also embracing global gaming phenomena. They're equally at home playing Madden NFL or NBA 2K as they are diving into the latest battle royale or open-world adventure.

This gamer balances their love for video games with other aspects of American life, perhaps enjoying a round of digital golf before heading out to a real baseball game. They might stream their gameplay on Twitch or participate in local esports tournaments, contributing to the growing gaming economy.

The All American Gamer is adaptable, embracing new technologies like VR and cloud gaming, while still appreciating the classics. They're part of a community that spans generations, from Baby Boomers who played Pong to Gen Z kids mastering Fortnite.

Most importantly, the All American Gamer represents the melting pot of U.S. gaming culture – diverse, innovative, and always ready for the next challenge, digital or otherwise.

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The 4th of July, also known as Independence Day, is a federal holiday in the United States commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. This pivotal moment marked the Thirteen Colonies' formal separation from Great Britain and the birth of a new nation.

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The holiday also serves as a time for reflection on American history, values, and the ongoing pursuit of liberty and justice for all citizens.

Video games make a fantastic gift for the gamer in your life. Whether they're into the latest action-adventure titles, immersive open-world RPGs, competitive online multiplayer, or casual mobile games, there's a game out there to suit every player's preferences. Consider the recipient's favorite genres, platforms, and gaming habits when selecting a gift. Popular options include the latest game releases, gaming consoles or PCs, headsets, controllers, and accessories. For a more personalized touch, you could also create a game-themed gift basket with snacks, t-shirts, posters, and other merchandise. Video games provide endless entertainment and can be a thoughtful, engaging gift that the recipient will appreciate.

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Lion-o Thundercats 3D Shirt

Unleash Your Inner Thundercat: Own the Power of Lion-O For every 80s kid who dreamed of soaring through the skies of Third Earth with the Thundercats, this shirt is more than just clothing - it's a statement. It's a reminder of the courage, the camaraderie, and the unwavering determination that defined the legendary heroes. This isn't just a shirt, it's a badge of honor.It declares your love for the Thundercats, a fandom that transcends generations. Wear it with pride, and let the world know that you're part of something special, something that stands for justice, bravery, and the fight against evil. More than just a nostalgic throwback, this shirt is a conversation starter.Reignite the spark of your childhood memories, share your love of the Thundercats with friends and family, and spark a conversation about the iconic series that captured the imaginations of millions. Beyond the nostalgia, this shirt is a reminder of the enduring power of the Thundercats message.The themes of courage, loyalty, and the fight for good over evil resonate just as strongly today as they did back in the 80s. It's a message that inspires, motivates, and reminds us that even in the face of adversity, we can overcome any obstacle. This shirt is not just for fans, it's for everyone who believes in the power of heroism, the importance of friendship, and the triumph of good over evil.It's a statement of your inner Thundercat, a reminder that you too possess the strength, the courage, and the spirit to face any challenge. Own the power of Lion-O, wear the spirit of the Thundercats, and let your inner hero roar.

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[theinfinitelibrarysystem]

okay so there's this child of my parent's friend i hate. i hate. i hate. *instert AM speech here* luckily, hadn't seen him in ages but then parent's friend shows up. now she herself is lovely. her child is not. he's rude, loud, really mean (figures out the things you hate most, your boundaries, and goes against them on purpose, smiling as he does so. he will cry once you tell his mum. he has done this as long as i've known him.) and constantly tries to boss everyone around (lot of things about "you're not the boss of me so that means i'm the boss of you") including. everyone. even the dogs and cats and birds and the fucking fish. we're dogsitting. the most friendly dog ever. he's small (about 2x the size of a tibetan spaniel but probably smaller than a shiba inu), old, and always barks like he's really angry but he's actually just excited. immediately upon greeting this dog, the kid (dressed in a nba shirt and tight jeans(?)) commands him "down" (dog jumps on people's legs to greet them when excited, but he wasn't jumping on the kid) this dog, overly affectionate and a bit dimwitted he is, does not deserve this disrespect. imagine you're standing and some other random guy in a teachers voice says "stand up" you are already standing. what is his problem.

[paletalegear]

Boston Celtics Fanatics 2024 NBA Finals Champions Pull Up Jumper Caricature T Shirt

Boston Celtics Fanatics 2024 NBA Finals Champions Pull Up Jumper Caricature T Shirt

The press about Victoria’s trees in the 1840s and 1850s spread the Boston Celtics Fanatics 2024 NBA Finals Champions Pull Up Jumper Caricature T Shirt to people in America. Each year, Queen Victoria did the tree a little differently and it was covered in the press. Here is the Queen’s from 1845 painted by Joseph Nash. The top seems to be blocked from view. This is from 1850 at Windsor Castle by James Roberts. It looks to me like the one on the right has something on the top, but not the one on the left. Here is a painting of Victoria’s tree in 1851 by William Coden, the Younger. It seems not to have a star or angel, but it is hard to see. Here is one with a angel. That is Victoria and Albert and the kids. In this it is 1852. Here is another year in 1857 This year is seems to have a royal symbol and crown.

[newnoirstories]

Sports Thriller

(If you happen to read any of my works, and are an illustrator, I would be honored to have your illustrations in my short stories.)

"Stepping on the Line"

Chapter I

It was Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Finals, and Zoltán "Sultan" László, billed as soon to be the player of the 1980's, was in his first NBA playoffs. László was just a rookie, and his home crowd expected a lot of him, but he was used to pressure, having hit the NCAA tournament winner from better than thirty feet. Renowned above all else for his dazzling passing, drawing comparisons to Bob Cousy, Sultan felt that, if he could get twelve assists per game for the upcoming series, his team would win, and with a stoic face, he laced up and prepared to do just this.

The son of Hungarian immigrants to the USA, László long preceded the wave of European players so prevalent in today's game. He dominated high school and college, and his first regular season as a pro only raised the expectations. Even Bob Cousy, by this time an announcer, agreed with the comparisons, remarking, "Sultan is the closest thing I've seen to me playing ball."

At a speedy 6 foot 1, Sultan was small by the sport's professional standards, but the tall redwoods seemed like stiff trees when this rookie weaved around them.

Opening tip… Kelsey, the team's center, tipped the ball directly to László, who flew like a greyhound past a frustrated defender for two easy points. If Sultan was nervous, he didn't show it.

By the end of the first quarter, his team led 29-20, and Zoltán already had 4 assists, to go with 6 points and 2 steals. Play resumed, but a deadlier game was being played in the crowd. High on a perch, a stocky little man was cheering fervently for Zoltán, calling him "old buddy".

Applauding a made free throw by a teammate of the Sultan, the man's hands suddenly fell, his eyes went blank. Someone in a mask of the Sultan's own likeness, wearing black gloves, had slipped a knife into this "old buddy" of Zoltán László, but adjoining fans were too distracted to notice.

The dead man leaned against a barricade. The killer stepped back to an exit to a stairway, and then, taking out a long stick, a pole of some sort, from the stairwell, pushed the victim over into the crowd below, a horror haunting many fans to this day, but none of them, evidently, was the target of this macabre message.

When play stopped, police guarding the building found, pinned to the back of the dead man's shirt, a note reading simply: "Sultan, you're next."

Chapter II

The deceased was identified as Robert Elliott Caldwell, a friend of Zoltán from school, back to age 12, and Zoltán remembered Robert being one of the few kids who didn't tease him for his accent.

The game was stopped. Though his team was ahead by five, that was hardly the first thing on László's mind. Police told him of the threat pinned to Caldwell's shirt.

What enemies did he have? The only one he could think of as anything like an enemy was a mysterious man named Adam, an almost otherwordly, grinning con man of some sort, who had approached Zoltán during several practices, Adam offering a substantial sum of money if the Sultan would play poorly. Some gambling sort, thought Zoltán.

Police knew exactly who he was describing, Adam "Shapeshifter" Shane, a notorious sports gambler, racketeer and money launderer, a man with an extensive criminal record and multiple stints in prison. They detained him, and as they thought, the wily, experienced criminal refused to say anything other than that he wanted his lawyer.

The National Basketball Association now had to decide: Would they let the playoffs continue? They had never had a dilemma like this one, but the Sultan himself demanded that play resume right where it left off, saying, "The show must go on."

Chapter III

Zoltán's wife, Judy Cantwell, on the other hand, begged her husband not to play. Such was the contrarian nature of Zoltán, however, that the more she begged, the more he convinced himself to keep going.

"The game's not worth your life, Zoli."

"But Judy, that would be giving this creep, whoever he is, what he wants. It is the nature of some degree of fame, which I guess I now have, that some lunatics will hate you, but do you want to be married to a coward?"

"It's not cowardice to value your life over shooting hoops."

"It's not about basketball, dear. It's about sending a message back to the man who killed Bob. We all knew each other in school. Let's decide to win it for him."

That settled the matter. Judith "Judy" Cantwell was no stranger to pain, having a limp, and being a prominent advocate against drunk driving, describing being struck by an intoxicated driver. Perhaps experience had made her more cautious. She shrugged, realizing the Sultan could not be talked out of anything.

Chapter IV

Detective Joe Lawrence had Adam Shane in custody regarding his attempts to bribe the Sultan, but he had to pursue alternative explanations. A group of fanatics for the other team, known as "Dime a Dozen", twelve in number, had to be considered as suspects, especially as some of them had themselves placed bets, possibly even with Shane brokering them.

A stranger but also more promising lead, Lawrence thought, was the escape from a mental institution of Elvin Cooper, a man with the delusion that he was a professional basketball player, who had, perhaps imprudently, the Detective thought, been placed under minimum security. Though not known to be violent, Cooper had left a note at the asylum, explaining that he "had to go to the big game".

"He won't be hard to find, at any rate," remarked another officer.

"Why is that?" asked Lawrence.

"Look at his file. It says he 'compulsively announces his presence with the words "Loopy-loopy, here comes Coopy"'."

"That will make it hard for him to blend in…"

Meanwhile, Lawrence sent Lieutenant Rick Hardaway to interview the Dime a Dozen fanatics, whose leader, their "president", was Mike B. Strange.

Strange, however, contended, "We don't want to see the Sultan dead. We want to see him choke, you know, panic under pressure."

Meanwhile, in another part of town, alley cats scattered as they heard the sound, "Loopy-loopy, here comes Coopy…"

Chapter V

With Shane in custody, and Dime a Dozen under police surveillance, the NBA decided to finish the game, which László's team won. The game itself passed without further incident, but that night, a statue, a team monument, was blown to fragments with dynamite, an incident neither Joe Lawrence nor any other police officer imagined was a coincidence.

"It can't be Shane or those Dime a Dozen guys. It has to be someone else, someone whose whereabouts we don't know, which leaves us with Cooper," was Lawrence's opinion.

For Game 2, in the same stadium, the arena was surrounded by a sea of blue, uniformed cops, and as he always did, the Sultan arrived many hours early for practice, never one for the late night party scene, more than could be said for some of his teammates.

Still, Zoltán was not blind to the danger, and instructions were given that, other than police and the teams themselves, only Zoltán's own wife was to be permitted in the arena during practice. The Sultan's parents did not approve of their son's profession, wanting him to do something "serious", and were rather out of the picture.

Yet somehow, in some way, the same ominous figure, with a mask of Zoltán László's own face, and putting on the same black gloves, approached, fearlessly heading towards the home team's locker room.

Chapter VI

The masked killer had keys to every entrance and exit, and managed to skirt around police, as numerous as they were, and entered the locker room with Zoltán by the same means, pulling a small pistol at the same instant.

Face to face, in a sense, with himself, seated alone, the Sultan saw the killer unmask: It was his own wife, Judy Cantwell.

"You still don't remember, do you, oh mighty Sultan?"

Zoltán was too stunned to reply.

"Remember when we were in school, Zoli. We were 13, you, me and your best friend Bob. Remember that day I fell asleep in class?"

Whatever Zoltán was feeling, his face still showed nothing.

Judy continued, "You thought it would be a funny little prank to put lipstick on me when I was sleeping. Maybe that was your way of showing your crush on me, eh, Zoli? But remember how I never came back to school? I didn't know I had the lipstick on, and when I went home, mom, this crazy religious woman she was, goes nuts on me, says I'm Jezebel. I swear I don't know how the lipstick got on me, but mom says makeup's of the devil and sends me to Bible camp."

"So you killed Bob because you went to Bible camp?" asked the Sultan, stirring for the first time.

"No, you idiot. How do you think I got this limp? Oh, you poor fool. You really bought the drunk driver story, didn't you? A bobcat clawed me up in Bible camp, did nerve damage, but I was smart, you see, because I married you anyway, all to get sweet, sweet revenge."

"You can kill me, Judy, but the cops will get you anyway."

"Kill you? No, Zoli, that would be too easy. You need to suffer as I do, every day, knowing that all the potential you could have had is wasted. One to the knee and I end your…"

"Loopy-loopy, here comes Coopy…" echoed faintly in the distance.

Looking concerned for a moment, Judy resumed her speech, "You won't be able to go on as a cripple. Not without your adoring public and…"

"Loopy-loopy, here comes Coopy…" now louder, over and over.

Someone picked the lock, and Judith spun round and shot Elvin Cooper.

"Lady, you're a good shot," were Elvin's last words, but in that instant, Zoltán took the gun away from his wife, and police, having heard the shot, arrested her.

True to his complete focus, Zoltán "Sultan" László scored 52 points that game, "for Bob", and his team won.

The end.

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