#programming languages 2024

[myassignmentservicesca]

Read about the most popular programming languages in Canada that can help you boost you career. this article can help you decide which language you should learn first if your planning to pursue you career in Canada.

[seekerofrealitys-blog]

🎊🎊🥳🥳

End term practical marks has been declared......

It's so satisfying seeing my hard work paying off.

I didn't believe I will do so better in programming even tho it's my first time ever to learn programming.

I just want to dance today!!!!.

[createncodewebtechnologies]

Best Programming Language for Web Development 2024

The world of web development is dynamic and always changing, introducing new tools, technologies, and trends. Web development will remain important in 2024 as companies look to improve their online presence. Selecting the best programming language for web development 2024 is essential since it has a big impact on the usability, security, scalability, and performance of a website. With so many alternatives at their disposal, developers must choose the language that best fits the needs of the project.

65.4% of developers rely on JavaScript, making it the most widely used programming language, according to the 2022 Stack Overflow Developer Survey. Because of its flexibility, Node.js developers may use it to manage server-side functionality and construct dynamic, interactive user interfaces.

Python has been incredibly popular lately, especially in the data science and web development domains. Both novice and seasoned developers will find it appealing because to its easily understood syntax, large standard library, and abundance of third-party packages.

TypeScript is preferred for large-scale projects by 78% of professional developers because to its scalability and efficient handling of complicated codebases. Popular frameworks like Angular and NestJS use TypeScript as their programming language of choice.

Because of its speedy growth, Ruby is still a popular choice for startups and is utilized by 5.5% of developers for web development. Shopify and Basecamp are two well-known instances of prosperous businesses using Ruby on Rails.

Because WebAssembly (Wasm) enables developers to run Rust code in the browser for high-performance web apps, Rust is becoming more and more popular in the web development community.

Rust is becoming a more attractive option for web developers in 2024, thanks to frameworks like Actix and Rocket that make full-stack development easier.

Developing a visual framework that embodies the brand's identity, mission, and values is the first step in the design process. A custom website design guarantees that the style, visual appeal, and user experience are distinctive and in line with the objectives of the business.

Expert web development companies prioritize user-centric design to make sure users have an easy time navigating the website. This entails simple navigation, obvious call-to-action buttons, and a structure that skillfully leads visitors through the website.

The user-interactive visual portion of a website is called the front-end. Best website development company in Indore create quick, dynamic, and responsive front-end user interfaces using the newest technologies, including HTML5, CSS3, and JavaScript frameworks like React, Angular, or Vue.js.

Businesses have access to a range of platforms, including WooCommerce, Shopify, Magento, and custom eCommerce solutions. Every platform has benefits, and a seasoned web development company will suggest the ideal choice depending on the demands of the company, its line of products, and its anticipated volume of traffic.

Prominent web development firms use a mobile-first strategy, creating websites that are mobile-first from the start.

[guzscode]

Dislate DevLog 1: When Comparing Size Matters

Daily Blogs 277 - Aug 8th, 12.024

Something which I noticed today while programming the project-dislate's database interface, is how much the files that I write got bigger. When I was starting programming, most files didn't pass the 100 lines most of the time. I still remember doing my first "real" project, a simple To-Do list application called ToToday (which I actually used when I was starting to organize my life), which I made 2 years ago and felt really proud on how I made the code "scalable" to add more features and just use the LocalStorage API for everything. The Tasks' Component I specially felt proud about, and even showed to friends them, showing the amount of lines and how much it was scalable and organized.

However, seeing now, even though the files have around 300 lines of code, the actual logic of the code is just around 120 lines, the rest is just HTML and CSS. Not only that, but last year, as an experiment, I created another To-Do list application in just one HTML file, which ended having 350 lines of code for the entire application (this kinda also shows how much JavaScript, and its ecosystem has the tendency of over-engineering a log of things).

And today, I actually wrote just a database interface, and it ended up with 300 lines of code before I was even having time of completing it today. All these lines are code, pretty much. And I asked me "why?", and pretty much already had the answer in mind: I'm doing more complex things now.

I hardly look backwards to compare myself, which I know is a problem and I probably should do it more since it really shows me how much I improved as a programmer/Software Engineer. I even call myself now a "Software Engineer" instead of "Programmer", because that what I am, I solve problems now, I make actual software that solves problems instead of just gluing things together and calling it a day. Even though number of lines doesn't really represent quality or even improvement, the idea that nowadays this amount of code every day is normal and the bare minimum for a small part of the projects that I do, I would say that it shows that I'm improving and actually creating things. Projects and codebases aren't big when the only thing you're doing is gluing libraries and frameworks together, I would say. If you are solving problems, if you're making business logic, you will need to write it and write more code.

That's why I always recommend making and write projects that you will use, that you actually care, instead of just following tutorials and making To-Do apps. Actual software is hard and big most of the time, but writing them can be fulfilling. I acknowledge that my first To-Do app was a start and a good step in actually trying to complete something, but I fell a lot happier seeing myself now actually persuading bigger challenges. And I hope that you go pursue bigger challenges.

Today's artists & creative things Music: Road To Hide - by ZeRO

© 2024 Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

[techtoio]

Exploring the Latest Trends in Software Development

Introduction The software is something like an industry whose development is ever-evolving with new technologies and changing market needs as the drivers. To this end, developers must keep abreast with current trends in their fields of operation to remain competitive and relevant. Read to continue .....

[ipcsdmpalakkad]

Benefits of Learning Python in 2024

Introduction 

Python is a popular programming language that can lead to many job opportunities in technology. It is used in web development, data analysis, artificial intelligence, and automation. In 2024, the need for Python skills is still increasing, as big companies such as Cisco, IBM, and Google are using it for their projects. If you're thinking about broadening your programming skills, this detailed guide will explore 12 reasons why learning Python in 2024 is a wise decision. 

What is Python? 

Python is a programming language that we use to give instructions to our computer for specific tasks. It is a high-level language that is interpreted and object-oriented. Its beginner-friendly syntax makes it a popular choice for beginners to start their programming journey. The main goal of Python is to make it easier for developers to read and understand code, while also reducing the amount of code needed. 

Reasons Why You Should Learn Python 

Here are the reasons why you should learn Python: it’s Web Development, Scripting, Automation, cross-platform compatibility, Open-source nature, Data Science capabilities, Machine Learning (ML), Artificial Intelligence (AI), Easy to learn, Libraries, Framework, Django Framework and Game Development. 

Python is used in Web development – 

Python offers a range of frameworks for web development. Django, Flask, and Pylons are some popular options known for their fast and reliable code, all written in Python. With Python, users can also engage in web scraping to extract information from different websites. 

Python is used in Automation and Scripting – 

Python is not only a programming language but also a scripting language. Python scripts can have functions imported as a library from other scripts. Python is capable of automating various tasks, saving time and energy. 

Python is used in Cross-Platform and open source – 

For over 20 years, this language has been running on different platforms and is open source. Python code works on Linux, Windows, and MacOS. Python is also known for its extensive bug-fixing and code improvement over the years, ensuring that it runs smoothly whenever it is used. 

Python is used in Data Science – 

Most data scientists prefer using Python for programming. Nowadays, data is crucial for various jobs like IT ops, software development, and marketing. Python gained popularity in the data world with the introduction of 'NumPy' and 'Pandas'. 

Python is used in Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning – 

Python is widely used in Machine Learning to create algorithms based on statistics for computers to execute various tasks. The language has modules like Theano, Scikit-learn, TensorFlow, etc., to support machine learning. Additionally, Python is beneficial in Artificial Intelligence with libraries like Keras for neural network experiments. 

Python is easy to learn – 

Python is a simple language to learn. This is mainly because it is similar to English. Python's syntax has only a few rules and special cases. In Python, the emphasis is on what you want to achieve with the code, rather than the complexities of the language. Anyone can easily become proficient in Python. By practicing, beginners can create a basic game in just a few days using Python. Another appealing feature of this programming language is its efficiency and readability. 

Python has many libraries and frameworks – 

Python offers a wide range of libraries and frameworks to meet different needs. For instance, Django is utilized for web development, PyBrain is employed for data science, TensorFlow is used for machine learning, and so on. This guarantees that the application development process is effortless and seamless, as the libraries and frameworks can be tailored to meet specific requirements. 

Django Framework – 

Django is a Python web framework that makes it easy to create secure and easy-to-manage websites quickly. Developed by experts, Django handles many of the challenges of web development, allowing you to concentrate on building your app instead of starting from scratch. 

Python is used in Game Development – 

Developers can utilize Python to create games with the help of Pygame, enabling the development of both 2D and 3D games. Notable games like Pirates of the Caribbean and Battlefield 2 have been built using Python. Python offers a library called Pygame specifically designed for game development, making it convenient to create engaging games. With the growing prominence of the gaming industry, the utilization of Python for game development has significantly increased in recent years. 

Conclusion 

Learning Python in 2024 is a smart career choice because it is easy to use, has many libraries, and can be applied in various fields. Python skills are in high demand, making it a valuable asset for developers. Python is a popular programming language with many reasons behind its high demand. It offers strong community support, a wide range of libraries, and frameworks, making it a top choice for both developers and beginners. Python is used in various fields such as web development, game development, automation, as well as in technologies like AI, ML, and data analytics. Overall, the programming language is experiencing rapid growth and has a promising future ahead. Learn Python at IPCS global Palakkad for comprehensive education and training. In addition to the course curriculum, IPCS Global also provides job placement assistance, interviews, and projects, guaranteeing a 100% placement rate.

FAQs 

Q. Why is it important to learn Python, and what benefits can it offer?   

Studying Python has the potential to unlock many job possibilities with great potential for advancement and lucrative pay. It is applicable in a wide range of areas, including data analysis, artificial intelligence, website creation, coding, and streamlining tasks. 

Q. What is the future of Python? 

Python has a bright future ahead because it remains popular and widely used in different industries. Its strong community support, wide range of libraries, and flexibility make it a good fit for future technological advancements. With the emergence of new technologies and trends, Python is expected to maintain its important role in the tech industry. 

Q. What are the 3 benefits of using Python? 

Readability: Python is created with a syntax that is simple to read, which helps in writing and managing code more efficiently. 

Extensive Libraries: Python offers a wide range of libraries and frameworks that cater to different needs. This enables developers to make use of pre-existing tools for their projects. 

Versatility: Python is versatile and can be applied in various fields such as web development, scientific computing, and machine learning. 

[psktechnologiesnagpur-blog]

[leveragehunters]

CoPilot in MS Word

I opened Word yesterday to discover that it now contains CoPilot. It follows you as you type and if you have a personal Microsoft 365 account, you can't turn it off. You will be given 60 AI credits per month and you can't opt out of it.

The only way to banish it is to revert to an earlier version of Office. There is lot of conflicting information and overly complex guides out there, so I thought I'd share the simplest way I found.

How to revert back to an old version of Office that does not have CoPilot

This is fairly simple, thankfully, presuming everything is in the default locations. If not you'll need to adjust the below for where you have things saved.

Click the Windows Button and S to bring up the search box, then type cmd. It will bring up the command prompt as an option. Run it as an administrator.

Paste this into the box at the cursor: cd "\Program Files\Common Files\microsoft shared\ClickToRun"

Hit Enter

Then paste this into the box at the cursor: officec2rclient.exe /update user updatetoversion=16.0.17726.20160

Hit enter and wait while it downloads and installs.

VERY IMPORTANT. Once it's done, open Word, go to File, Account (bottom left), and you'll see a box on the right that says Microsoft 365 updates. Click the box and change the drop down to Disable Updates.

This will roll you back to build 17726.20160, from July 2024, which does not have CoPilot, and prevent it from being installed.

If you want a different build, you can see them all listed here. You will need to change the 17726.20160 at step 4 to whatever build number you want.

This is not a perfect fix, because while it removes CoPilot, it also stops you receiving security updates and bug fixes.

Switching from Office to LibreOffice

At this point, I'm giving up on Microsoft Office/Word. After trying a few different options, I've switched to LibreOffice.

You can download it here for free: https://www.libreoffice.org/

If you like the look of Word, these tutorials show you how to get that look:

www.howtogeek.com/788591/how-to-make-libreoffice-look-like-microsoft-office/

www.debugpoint.com/libreoffice-like-microsoft-office/

If you've been using Word for awhile, chances are you have a significant custom dictionary. You can add it to LibreOffice following these steps.

First, get your dictionary from Microsoft

Go to Manage your Microsoft 365 account: account.microsoft.com.

One you're logged in, scroll down to Privacy, click it and go to the Privacy dashboard.

Scroll down to Spelling and Text. Click into it and scroll past all the words to download your custom dictionary. It will save it as a CSV file.

Open the file you just downloaded and copy the words.

Open Notepad and paste in the words. Save it as a text file and give it a meaningful name (I went with FromWord).

Next, add it to LibreOffice

Open LibreOffice.

Go to Tools in the menu bar, then Options. It will open a new window.

Find Languages and Locales in the left menu, click it, then click on Writing aids.

You'll see User-defined dictionaries. Click New to the right of the box and give it a meaningful name (mine is FromWord).

Hit Apply, then Okay, then exit LibreOffice.

Open Windows Explorer and go to C:\Users\[YourUserName]\AppData\Roaming\LibreOffice\4\user\wordbook and you will see the new dictionary you created. (If you can't see the AppData folder, you will need to show hidden files by ticking the box in the View menu.)

Open it in Notepad by right clicking and choosing 'open with', then pick Notepad from the options.

Open the text file you created at step 5 in 'get your dictionary from Microsoft', copy the words and paste them into your new custom dictionary UNDER the dotted line.

Save and close.

Reopen LibreOffice. Go to Tools, Options, Languages and Locales, Writing aids and make sure the box next to the new dictionary is ticked.

If you use LIbreOffice on multiple machines, you'll need to do this for each machine.

Please note: this worked for me. If it doesn't work for you, check you've followed each step correctly, and try restarting your computer. If it still doesn't work, I can't provide tech support (sorry).

[mtariqniaz]

The 20 Best Programming Languages to Learn in 2024

In this article, I’ll share the best programming languages in 2024. Choosing the best programming language can be tricky. Plus, when you consider that the Stack Overflow developer survey alone lists more than 40 different programming languages, there’s a lot to choose from! So, if you’re curious about the best programming language to learn, I’m here to help! Perhaps you’re interested in data, and…

[goldfades]

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐓 ꩜ juju watkins ¹² (part 1/3)

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

MASTERLIST | PART TWO

ᝰ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.7k

ᝰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | she was born to be great—legacy inked in her blood, she was a taurasi. committing to usc was supposed to be her moment, her name, her story. but this is juju watkins' court. and kingdoms don’t like to be threatened.

ᝰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | competitive tension, mentions of injuries, slow burn dynamics, rivals-to-something-much-messier, media speculation, college basketball politics... this is only part one to the lay the works for the next two parts

ᝰ 𝒆𝒗'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 | listen. i just wanted to write about what happens when you throw two untouchable girls into the same gym and force them to coexist. this is about power, perception, and the kind of obsession you can’t quite name. it’s loud games and quiet bus rides. it’s two stars learning they shine brightest side by side.

You were born into greatness before you even had the language to name it.

The first thing you ever held was a mini basketball, your tiny hands clumsily wrapped around its worn leather like it had always belonged there. Your baby photos weren’t in soft pastels—they were draped in UConn blue and white, your mother’s old jersey hung behind you like a crown you hadn’t earned but would eventually grow into. You took your first steps on a basketball court. Learned your first words in locker rooms. The sharp scent of sweat, rubber soles, and Gatorade became as familiar to you as lullabies.

You were Diana Taurasi’s daughter. And that meant something.

Even when you were too young to understand the weight of it, other people did. They looked at you and saw potential. Expectation. In the eyes of coaches, scouts, fans—you weren’t just a kid. You were a blueprint. A second coming.

And you never got the chance to be anything else.

You were in second grade the first time someone referred to you as a “problem” on the court—meant as a compliment, of course. You dropped twenty-four points in an AAU game filled with girls four years older than you. By middle school, Gatorade was sponsoring youth events you headlined. By high school, you were trending every time you laced up. A walking headline. A phenom. A legacy in progress.

You didn’t just play basketball. You were basketball.

There was a calm that came with it. A clarity. You didn’t feel the pressure like other people expected you to. You felt something closer to instinct. The game spoke to you in a language you were born fluent in—cuts, passes, screens, shot clocks. It pulsed through your veins like memory. And your mother—your mother made sure you never coasted.

Diana Taurasi wasn’t just your mom. She was your coach, your mentor, your mirror. Brutally honest. Ferociously protective. She never let you fall for your own hype. Never let you take the easy road. You had to earn every point, every compliment, every step forward.

But still—there was no denying it.

You were that girl.

The number one recruit in the country for the 2024-25 season. The most scouted, most talked-about, most coveted player in women’s basketball. Some analysts said you were bigger than Cooper Flagg, more valuable, more marketable. Others called you a unicorn. A guard with a forward’s strength, a forward with a point guard’s court vision. You had Diana’s fire, but your own flavor of finesse. And you knew how to sell it. NIL deals rolled in before you turned seventeen—Nike, Beats, Gatorade, even a short documentary on your life that ESPN dropped during your senior year.

You didn’t ask to be the face of a movement. But you didn’t shy away from it, either.

They called you the princess of basketball. Not because you were soft. But because you were born in the castle and never once questioned whether or not you belonged.

Every program in the country wanted you. Coaches fawned. Analysts speculated. Your name was in every headline, your stats on every screen. Everyone—everyone—assumed you were going to UConn. How could you not? It was written in your blood. Your mom’s legacy was carved into the walls of Gampel Pavilion. Geno called you his “basketball granddaughter” before you could spell his name. You grew up running through their tunnels, watching legends take the court, dreaming in shades of blue.

But dreams change. Or maybe yours were never really yours to begin with.

Because when decision day came, you chose USC.

And the world? Imploded.

Headlines hit within seconds.

“TAURASI’S DAUGHTER SHOCKS BASKETBALL WORLD.”

“NUMBER ONE PROSPECT SNUBS UCONN.”

“PRINCESS TURNS REBEL.”

Everyone wanted a reason. Everyone needed an explanation. But it wasn’t complicated.

You didn’t want to inherit a legacy. You wanted to build one.

UConn would’ve been the safe path. The linear one. The predictable one. But you were never interested in repeating history. You were interested in rewriting it.

And USC—the City of Angels, the rebirth of West Coast basketball—was the place where you could do that.

Because LA offered you more than a court. It offered you a chance to step outside of your mother’s shadow, to start fresh, to make people see you for who you really were, not just who you were born to.

And maybe, deep down, it wasn’t just about legacy.

Maybe it was also about control. About owning your narrative before someone else could spin it for you.

You showed up to campus with cameras waiting. Your arrival was treated like the second coming. You weren’t a freshman—you were an icon in training. The team photographers caught you walking into Galen Center in a fresh pair of white and crimson Kobe 6s, your curls slicked back, diamond studs catching the California sun. The post went viral in under an hour.

“She’s here.”

“It’s over for the rest of the NCAA.”

“UConn fumbled the bag.”

People were already talking about championships. About rivalries. About changing the landscape of women’s college hoops.

But none of the buzz fazed you.

You’d been watched your whole life. You knew how to turn that into power. Still—there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for.

You weren’t the only star in town. And Juju Watkins? She wasn’t about to hand over the keys to her kingdom without a fight.

When people thought of USC women’s basketball, they thought of Juju Watkins.

It wasn’t up for debate. It wasn’t a question or a maybe or a footnote. It was fact. She was the headline, the face, the foundation. The hometown hero who chose to stay, to build, to bet on herself when everyone else was chasing dynasties across the country. She was the one who said no to UConn and South Carolina and Stanford and carved her own path under the California sun. And she was proud of that. She should be proud of that.

Because she didn’t just help put USC back on the map.

She was the map.

The jersey sales, the packed home games, the national coverage, the buzz—the heat that hadn’t touched USC in decades—it all started with her. She was a one-woman revolution in a bun and Kobe kicks, an LA native who brought cameras and fans and credibility back to the Galen Center.

And she worked for it. Every inch.

No one handed her anything.

She didn’t have a last name that made people bow. She wasn’t born into legend. She earned her way here—through sweat, and pressure, and expectation so loud it nearly drowned her more than once. And even now, with her name etched into the culture of this team, with her photos plastered on every poster and promo, she still didn’t feel safe.

Not when you were coming.

She saw the rumors online before she believed them. Saw your name floated in interviews, message boards, pre-season speculation. Everyone thought you’d go to UConn. It made sense. You were Diana Taurasi’s daughter, after all. Basketball royalty. UConn blue practically ran in your blood. But then the decision came, and it broke across social media like a crack of thunder.

You picked USC.

And everything shifted.

Juju was scrolling Twitter when she saw the official commitment post. A photo of you in cardinal and gold, arms folded over your chest, looking like you already owned the place. The caption was something cocky—something short, like legacy starts now or chapter one—and the likes exploded in real time.

At first, Juju just stared. Blinked. Read it again.

Then she threw her phone across the bed and laughed.

Not because it was funny. But because what else could she do?

You were coming here. To her house. To the team she rebuilt from the ground up. And she already knew what was going to happen next. All the headlines. The endless comparisons. The whispers that this—you—was the beginning of a new era.

As if she was already yesterday’s news. As if she hadn’t fought tooth and nail to give USC its identity back.

She hated it. Hated the way your name lingered on everyone’s tongue like some kind of prophecy. Hated how you were treated like the second coming of women’s basketball when she wasn’t even done writing her own story yet.

Most of all, she hated how easy it all seemed for you.

Juju watched your highlight tapes obsessively. More than she was willing to admit. Alone, late at night, headphones in. She’d scroll through hours of clips—AAU, USA Basketball, random TikTok edits—and she’d try to find the cracks. The flaws. Something she could use to tell herself you weren’t as good as they said.

But there weren’t any.

You were that good.

And that was the worst part.

You weren’t just hype. You weren’t just legacy and bloodline and pretty branding. You were legit. You moved like a pro—fluid, confident, calculated. Your handle was filthy. Your jumper, clean. You read defenses like they were written in bold font. And your passing game? That pissed her off the most. It was unselfish. As if the game didn’t revolve around you, even though everyone treated it like it did.

You were the kind of player who made the court look small.

And Juju knew what that meant. It meant she had a problem.

Because now she had to fight for her spot on her own team.

This wasn’t high school anymore. It wasn’t a one-woman show. She wasn’t going to get by on name recognition or local loyalty. There was another star on the roster now. And not just any star. The star. And no matter how hard Juju tried to downplay it, the truth kept showing up in her chest like a bruise she couldn’t ignore.

They weren’t just making room for you. They were rearranging things for you.

The trainers. The media staff. Even the coaches—Coach Gottlieb hadn’t said anything directly, but Juju could feel it. The careful balancing act. The subtle shifts in tone. The way they said your name like a promise.

It made her stomach twist.

It made her wake up earlier. Stay later. Work harder.

Not because she wanted to impress anyone. But because she wasn’t about to get pushed out of her own kingdom.

She’d bled for this team. She’d sacrificed for this team. She’d become the face of the program when no one else believed it could be done. And now everyone wanted to forget?

She wasn’t going to let that happen.

So yeah—she watched you. Studied you. Tracked your movements in every practice, every drill, every media appearance. Not out of admiration. Out of necessity. Because if she didn’t, she’d get left behind. Replaced. Reduced to a co-star in your story when she hadn’t even finished writing her own.

And maybe, just maybe, that obsession came with something sharper. Something deeper. Something she didn’t want to name just yet.

Because every time she looked at you—cool and collected, already being adored by everyone around you—she didn’t just see a rival.

She saw a mirror. A threat. A spark.

And she wasn’t sure which one scared her more.

--

You told them over dinner.

Not in a dramatic way, not with some big announcement or a video reveal or anything even close to that. Just the three of you—your mom, Diana, her wife, Penny, and you—sitting around the table in the backyard of your Arizona house. The kind of night where the sun stretched out long, warm and pink across the horizon, the cicadas were already singing, and the grill still smelled like steak and vegetables.

You’d been quiet most of the meal. Not tense, just… focused. Waiting for the right moment. You’d known what you were going to say for days—maybe even weeks. It had been building in you like a tide, inevitable. But knowing didn’t make saying it any easier.

Penny was the one who asked, voice soft and casual as she leaned back in her chair, wine glass balanced in her hand. “So, babe… where’s your head at with schools?”

You looked across the table at them. Diana, in her usual tank top and slides, her expression unreadable. Penny, barefoot, relaxed, but always watching closely. You pushed a piece of grilled zucchini around your plate for a second. Then you said it.

“I’m committing to USC.”

Diana blinked.

Penny smiled, almost immediately. “USC, huh? That’s exciting—LA, sunshine, staying West Coast. Great coaching staff. Good program.”

Diana still hadn’t moved.

You watched her fork freeze midair, hanging over her plate. She blinked again, slower this time, like maybe her brain was buffering. Then she set the fork down.

“USC?” she repeated, voice flat. “As in… the Trojans?”

You nodded once. “Yeah. I already talked to Coach Gottlieb. I’m sending my papers in tomorrow.”

It was quiet.

Penny sipped her wine. Diana didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You could practically hear her thoughts. You weren’t surprised, not really. You’d been bracing for this since the idea of USC first came into focus. Since the first whispers of doing something different—your thing—started to bloom.

Diana leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So what happened to UConn? You know, you already have your spot on the team, Geno promised.”

You shrugged. “It’s not what I want.”

“And Stanford?” she asked, voice sharp now. “South Carolina? Notre Dame? You literally have offers from every top ten school. Every. Single. One.”

“I know.”

She scoffed. “So explain to me how you ended up choosing USC like it’s not a massive downgrade.”

“Di—” Penny warned gently.

“No,” Diana cut in, eyes still locked on you. “I’m serious. I need her to say it. Because it sounds a lot like she’s throwing away every advantage she’s got to go be on a rebuilding team for—what? A vibe? Sunshine and Instagram opportunities?”

“It’s not about that,” you said quietly. “It’s about making something mine.”

Diana didn’t laugh, but she might as well have. The sound she made was dry, almost bitter. “You have something that’s yours. Your name, your talent, your future—all of it. And you really think going to USC is gonna make people forget you’re my kid?”

You stared at her. “That’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to be great,” you said, firm now. “I want to win. But I don’t want to do it where people are already expecting me to. I want to do it somewhere I chose. Not somewhere that was handed to me because of you.”

The table went quiet again. Penny reached over and placed a hand gently on Diana’s forearm.

“She’s not trying to disrespect you,” Penny said softly.

But Diana wasn’t even angry. Not really. She looked almost hurt. Or maybe confused. Like she was staring at a stranger wearing your face.

“I get it,” she said finally, low and tight. “You don’t want to follow in my footsteps. You want your own lane.”

You nodded. “Exactly.”

Diana sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Look, you know I respect USC. I do. But they don’t have a championship pedigree. They don’t have the infrastructure. If you really want to build something from the ground up, then go to Arizona. Hell, go to UCLA. At least those would make sense.”

Penny smiled behind her glass. “You’re negotiating now?”

“She’s not thinking it through.”

“I have thought it through,” you snapped. “I’ve thought about it more than anything in my entire life.”

Diana just looked at you, and for a second, it felt like you were ten years old again, after a bad game, standing at the free-throw line in the driveway while she drilled you on your form until the sun went down.

Then she exhaled, leaned forward, and said, “Fine.”

You blinked. “Fine?”

“But if you’re going to USC,” she said, voice suddenly sharper, “you’re going to do it like a Taurasi.”

You held her gaze.

“You’re not going there to participate. You’re not going there to be cute. You’re going there to win. And not just games—I mean finals. National championships. I don’t care if you’re a freshman or if you’re going up against five-star recruits. You go there, you better drag that team into the tournament and you better make it count. Or it’s a waste.”

There was a pause.

And then you smiled. A small one. The kind that came from somewhere deep in your chest.

“Okay,” you said. “Deal.”

She nodded once. “Then I don’t want to hear any complaints when you’re waking up at 5 a.m. every day for two-a-days and you’ve got cameras in your face asking why you didn’t go to UConn.”

“I won’t complain,” you said.

“You better not,” she muttered, but her voice had softened.

Penny looked between the two of you and shook her head. “God, you two are the same.”

Neither of you denied it.

Because you were. In ways you couldn’t run from, even if you tried.

You were Diana’s daughter through and through. The sharp edge. The attitude. The refusal to do anything halfway. And when she threw down that challenge, that line in the sand, it didn’t scare you.

It thrilled you.

You were going to USC. And now, you were going to prove that you could do exactly what she said.

Because making it to the finals wasn’t a request.

It was a promise.

--

There’s something about first impressions.

You know how they say don’t judge a book by its cover, but that’s exactly what everyone does—especially in women’s basketball, where reputation walks into the room before you do.

And yours?

Yours has been following you like a shadow since the moment you could dribble.

So when you showed up to Galen Center on the first day of summer workouts, it wasn’t just an arrival. It was a statement.

You stepped onto that court like it was already yours.

Custom Jordan 1s in USC colors, trimmed with metallic gold laces. Dutch braids tight and glossy, edges laid, diamond studs catching the light. Oversized vintage Nike tee tucked into black USC practice shorts. The look was casual, effortless—but make no mistake, it was curated. You weren’t just the new recruit.

You were the moment.

The gym buzzed when you walked in. Heads turned. Conversations paused mid-sentence. Girls nudged each other subtly, stealing glances over their water bottles. Someone whispered your name like a prayer. A few others just stared like they couldn’t believe you were real. That she—basketball’s golden child, Diana Taurasi’s legacy—was actually here.

You didn’t smile.

Not because you were being rude, but because you didn’t need to. You let the silence stretch a little. Let it settle.

Own the room first. Be friendly later, that’s what Diana always said.

Coach Gottlieb was already making her way toward you, clipboard in hand, eyes bright and slightly nervous—like she knew she had something valuable in her hands and didn’t want to drop it.

“Welcome to USC,” she said, offering her hand, and you shook it with a firm grip, your expression unreadable.

“I’m excited to be here,” you replied smoothly, voice low, even.

And you were. You meant it.

The rest of the staff followed—assistant coaches, trainers, strength coaches. They all greeted you like royalty. Like this was the day they’d been waiting for, the shift they’d been promised. You could feel it in the way their eyes lingered too long, in the way their smiles tightened when they spoke. The expectation was heavy. But it didn’t scare you.

You were used to it.

You’d been molded in the spotlight.

Still, even as you let them usher you toward the team, subtly placing you at the center of the gym, you felt her before you saw her.

That heat. That edge.

That silent resistance.

Juju Watkins stood off to the side, arms crossed, chewing on a piece of gum like she was watching a movie she’d seen before and already hated the ending.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Didn’t move a muscle.

Just stared at you with a look that could slice glass. And for the first time that day, you felt your pulse jump.

You turned your body slightly, acknowledging her. Nothing obvious. Just a glance. A barely-there curve of your mouth. A flicker of something beneath your lashes.

Juju didn’t flinch.

Didn’t acknowledge the coaches still circling you like satellites. Didn’t bother with the whispered conversations or the teammates already inching toward you like moths to a flame.

Her energy was solid. Grounded. Unimpressed.

And God, you liked it.

It fed something in you. Pulled the thread tighter.

Because everyone else had already folded. They’d smiled too wide. Said too much. Laughed too loud. They wanted to be close to you, to claim you before the season even started.

But not Juju.

She didn’t want to claim you. She wanted to test you.

“Watkins,” Coach Gottlieb called out, beckoning her over. “Come introduce yourself.”

Juju walked slowly, deliberately, like she was being summoned to something beneath her. Like she couldn’t care less.

She stopped in front of you, hands on her hips, her expression unreadable.

You extended your hand, polite. Calm.

She looked at it for a beat too long before finally shaking it. Her grip was firm. Just like yours.

“I’ve seen your highlights,” she said, voice flat.

“I’ve seen yours too,” you replied.

“You’re good.”

“So are you.”

Another pause. Neither of you smiled.

The gym was too quiet. Everyone else was watching like it was a live broadcast—like if they blinked, they’d miss the exact moment everything shifted.

Because it had.

Right there, in that subtle, loaded exchange.

She didn’t bow. She didn’t bend.

And you loved that.

Because if this season was going to be a war—and you already knew it would be—you didn’t want people behind you. You wanted someone standing across from you, sharp and hungry.

“You came here for the spotlight,” she said, still looking you dead in the eye.

“I came here to win.”

Juju’s jaw tightened just a little. Then she stepped back.

“Then I hope you can handle the heat.”

You smiled then. Not big. Just enough.

“I grew up in Phoenix,” you said. “I am the heat.”

A few girls nearby muttered, one of them letting out a soft, “Damn.”

Coach clapped her hands, trying to cut the tension with forced cheer. “Alright, alright! Let’s get this practice started.”

Juju turned and walked back toward her side of the court without another word.

And you followed, just a step behind, already measuring the distance between you.

Not to catch up. But to compete.

Because if she wanted this team to be hers, she’d have to earn it the same way you always had. By going through you.

The gym was thick with the scent of rubber soles and sweat and adrenaline.

Summer practice meant no fans in the stands, no cameras, no bright lights—just the brutal honesty of open court under high ceilings and fluorescent lights. Coaches watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, clipboards held to their chests like shields. The rest of the team had spread out along the baseline, hydrating and whispering, but their eyes stayed locked on you and Juju. Everyone was watching.

It had started off civil.

A few plays in, no one had said much. You took a three—clean, efficient, net barely moved. Juju answered with a drive, weaving through two defenders, finishing off the glass. It was back and forth. Electric. Mutual respect in motion.

But then things shifted.

It happened in the second rotation, when the scrimmage flipped and Coach had you both guarding each other.

And Juju’s mouth opened.

“Cute shot,” she muttered, brushing your shoulder with hers as she passed. “Let’s see you try it with pressure this time.”

You blinked.

That was… new.

You’d watched her tapes. You knew her rep. Juju wasn’t loud. She didn’t need to be. Her game was usually enough.

But now? Now she wouldn’t shut up.

“Left side’s dead, princess. You ain’t getting through there.”

“Where’s that Taurasi footwork? Lookin’ a little slow today.”

“Oh, we getting soft now? C’mon. That’s all you got?”

And the thing that got under your skin wasn’t just the chirping.

It was that she was good. Really good.

Her defense was sticky, her hips low, her reads quick. She played like she had something to prove—and maybe she did.

Your heart thumped harder every time she bumped you. Every time her breath hit your neck. Every time she cut in front of you, fast and mean, and forced you to reset.

She was fast.

You were faster.

She was sharp.

You were sharper.

But she was playing dirty. And you liked it.

You didn’t back down.

You locked her up the next play, forced her baseline, body tight against hers, your sneakers screeching against the court as she pivoted to escape you. You cut her off again. This time, she didn’t get the shot off.

You felt her frustration ripple like heat off her body.

“You reaching now?” she barked, eyes narrowing. “Gonna need more than your last name to stop me.”

Your grin was slow. “Good. I was getting bored.”

But inside, your blood was pumping like bass through a speaker.

You were not bored. Not even close.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

This gym—her gym—used to be silent when she moved. Used to breathe when she did. She built this place from the ground up. She made USC a name again. She chose it when no one else would, when people asked why she wasn’t going East, when they begged her to ride someone else’s legacy. She stayed. She led.

And now she was being overshadowed in her own house.

By you.

Diana Taurasi’s daughter. The golden child.

She hated how easy it looked for you. How clean your handles were. How smooth your jumper was. How you moved like the floor had memorized your rhythm.

You didn’t even look tired.

You were laughing, talking shit back. Like this was some kind of game.

But Juju knew better. This wasn’t a game. This was war.

Because you weren’t here to play second. You weren’t here to learn from her. You came to take her spot, whether you said it out loud or not.

And worst of all?

You were good enough to do it. She hated that more than anything.

By the third quarter of scrimmage, your jersey was sticking to your skin and your legs were starting to ache in the way that meant you were working—not for cardio, not for endurance, but for dominance.

Juju was right there, still glued to your hip, still yapping, still refusing to break. Her loose ponytail swished behind her as she moved, jaw clenched, sneakers relentless on the hardwood.

“She don’t pass, huh?” she called out mid-play, just loud enough for the others to hear. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re used to being the favorite.”

You spun on the drive, caught her slipping for half a second, and rose for the jumper—elbow high, wrist flick perfect.

Swish.

“Maybe if you kept your mouth closed,” you muttered as you jogged back, “you’d hear the whistle next time.”

The sidelines erupted with half-laughs, oohs, and fake coughs.

You were both breathing heavy now, chest to chest as the ball reset.

Juju’s voice dropped low as she leaned in for the next possession. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

You looked her dead in the eyes. “Good. I want you to see it.”

The ball snapped back into play.And there you were again.

Two stars burning too close. Too fast.

Her footwork was beautiful, all twitch muscle and timing, cutting angles like she’d drawn them herself. You matched it with precision. Hands up. Feet planted. You were reading her eyes now.

She was reading yours, too.

No one else on the court mattered anymore. The game had collapsed into the two of you, trading buckets and barbs, like this was all just a prelude to something bigger. Deeper.

By the final buzzer, your arms were burning. Your lungs, raw.

But so was your heart.

Because that tension? That unspoken current between you?

It wasn’t just rivalry. It was obsession. And neither of you had even scratched the surface of what it meant yet.

--

The next couple of weeks were harder than anything you expected.

And it wasn’t the drills. It wasn’t the lifting sessions or the playbook or the sweltering summer heat rising off the gym floor in waves.

It was her.

Juju.

She was everywhere. She was in your space, in your face, in your head.

You’d never had a teammate like her before—someone who didn’t just match your energy, but challenged it. Someone who pushed back. Who called you out. Who didn’t give a damn about your name or your highlight reel or the fact that Diana Taurasi was your mother.

Juju didn’t treat you like royalty. She treated you like a threat.

And you hated it. Hated the way she barked at you on defense like you weren’t doing enough. Hated the way she boxed you out with unnecessary force, like she was trying to send a message. Hated that she never gave you even a sliver of praise—never nodded, never smiled, never gave an inch.

You hated that she acted like you didn’t deserve to be here. And most of all—you hated how deep down, some part of you didn’t feel totally sure that you did.

Because this was the first time in your life you were sharing the court with someone who felt like a mirror. Someone who wanted it just as bad. Someone who could match you. Someone who reminded you that greatness wasn’t owed.

It had to be taken.

And that kind of pressure? It cracked things open.

You didn’t notice how bad it had gotten until that Thursday.

It was mid-scrimmage—five-on-five, game tied, coaches silent on the sidelines. You were running the wing, fast break after a turnover, and the ball hit your hands like lightning. You barely slowed your momentum as you cut in for the layup, extending toward the glass with your left.

And then—impact.

A hard shove. Not enough to break bone, but enough to throw your angle off, enough to send you stumbling into the padding beneath the basket.

You hit it with a grunt, palms catching your fall, knees scraping the floor.

Whistles blew, and the gym fell into a hush.

You pushed yourself up slowly, chest heaving, and turned around.

Juju was standing a few feet behind you, chest puffed, hands on hips, not even pretending to look sorry.

Your jaw clenched.

“Are you serious?” you snapped, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“It was an accident,” she bit back, already rolling her eyes.

“Bullshit.”

“You cut into the lane late,” Juju added to the coach, but her eyes never left yours. “Wasn’t my fault you can’t finish through contact.”

The dig sliced clean through your composure. You stepped forward.

“Finish through contact?” you echoed, voice rising. “You shoved me. You’re not slick. You’ve been doing this passive-aggressive shit since the day I got here.”

“Yeah?” Juju said, stepping toward you now. “Maybe if you earned your minutes instead of walking in like you own the place, you’d get some respect.”

You felt something crack.

“Respect?” you repeated. “You think I don’t earn my shit? You think just ‘cause my last name is Taurasi, I get handed everything?”

She shrugged, smirking. “If the shoe fits, princess.”

You took another step forward.

“Say that again.”

“Why? You gonna call Mommy to defend you?”

The breath you took was sharp, chest tight, heat blooming under your skin like fire.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” you hissed. “You don’t know what I’ve had to prove just to exist in this sport without people saying it’s all because of her.”

“Well guess what,” Juju snapped. “This is my team. My court. I built this. I bled for it. And you? You’re just here to make headlines.”

“Then guard me better,” you spit.

“Then play better.”

The gym was deadly silent.

No one moved. No one breathed.

The two of you stood nose-to-nose, fire in your eyes, fists half-curled at your sides like you weren’t entirely sure what came next.

And then Coach’s voice cut through like thunder.

“HEY!”

Both your heads snapped toward her.

She was furious. Red-faced. The veins in her neck visible.

“I’ve had enough of this little pissing match.”

Neither of you said anything.

“You two think this is cute?” she asked, voice thick with venom. “Think you’re the only stars I’ve coached? Newsflash—I’ve seen plenty of talent crash and burn because they couldn’t get over their damn egos.”

She stepped forward, eyes darting between the two of you.

“You want to fight? Fight fatigue.”

She pointed to the baseline.

“Both of you. Suicides. Until I say stop. And if either of you open your mouths again, the whole team’s running with you.”

For a second, neither of you moved.

Your eyes locked with Juju’s, still crackling with tension, but something else simmered underneath it now. But whatever it was, it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

You turned first, storming to the line, jaw set, hands shaking as you settled into position.

Juju jogged beside you. You didn’t look at each other.

The whistle blew.

You ran.

Back and forth. Over and over.

Sweat blurred your vision. Your lungs ached. Your shoes burned against the hardwood. Your muscles screamed. But you kept running. Because you had to.

Because you weren’t going to be the one who quit first.

Not now. Not ever. Not while she was still watching.

And even as the coach’s whistle echoed through the gym, even as the rest of the team sat in awkward silence, even as the seconds ticked by like hours—there was only one person you were racing against.

And she was right beside you.

That night, you called your mom with your legs submerged in ice.

The dorm was quiet. Your roommate was gone for the weekend, the glow of the lamp by your bed the only light in the room. Your phone was propped against a half-drunk water bottle on your nightstand, speakerphone on as you tucked your chin into your hoodie and stared blankly at your swollen ankles.

“—and then she shoved me,” you were saying, your voice climbing with every word. “Like full-on, no regard for human life. I hit the floor so hard I’m pretty sure my rib cage is lopsided now.”

The sound of Diana Taurasi’s laugh crackled through the phone. Dry. Sharp. Annoyingly amused.

You blinked at the ceiling. “Why are you laughing? I could’ve died or like, torn something!”

“Oh yeah,” Diana said. “Because Juju Watkins was out there committing murder one hard foul at a time.”

“Mom.”

“I’m just saying. You’re alive. Your limbs are still attached. You’ve survived tougher.”

You pouted, even though she couldn’t see you. “You don’t get it. She hates me. Like she doesn’t even try to hide it.”

“That’s because you’re a threat.”

You froze.

The silence lasted long enough that you heard her settle into what sounded like a leather couch, maybe in the living room back home. A game was playing faintly in the background—probably EuroLeague or WNBA reruns. You could imagine her perfectly: one leg thrown over the armrest, probably in sweatpants, wine glass untouched on the coffee table.

“A threat?” you repeated.

“To her spotlight. Her ego. Her starting position.” Diana’s voice was calm, pointed. “This isn’t new, baby. That’s how the NCAA is.”

You huffed, dragging your fingers through your hair.

“She’s just—she doesn’t respect me. She talks down to me. Like I didn’t earn being here.”

Diana didn’t respond right away.

You waited, thinking she’d say something soothing. Something comforting. She’d been like that your whole life—brutally honest, yeah, but always protective. Always on your side. You expected her to say Juju was out of line, that the coaching staff needed to do a better job keeping her in check, that you were the star now and people should treat you accordingly.

Instead, what you got was: “So what?”

You blinked. “What?”

“So what if she doesn’t respect you?” Diana said plainly. “Why does that bother you so much?”

You sat there, stunned.

“Because—” you sputtered, “—because I’ve always earned my respect. I show up, I work, I win. People like me. People listen to me. This—this is the first time I’ve ever had someone act like I don’t belong. Like I’m just some spoiled brat with a famous mom.”

A beat of silence.

And then: “And what if you are a spoiled brat with a famous mom?”

“Mom—”

“I’m serious,” Diana cut in, still maddeningly calm. “What if that’s what she thinks? What if the whole team thinks that? Are you gonna whine about it for the next six months, or are you gonna go get that Natty like we talked about?”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re being so mean right now.”

“No,” she said, voice suddenly sharper. “I’m being honest.”

And that was the first time she’d ever said it like that.

Like she wasn’t just your mom anymore. Like she was a player. A champion. A Taurasi.

“You wanted USC,” she continued. “You picked this path. You chose to leave UConn and LSU and Stanford on the table because you wanted to be the one who turned this program into something. You said you wanted a legacy. You said you wanted the pressure.”

You stared down at your phone, your throat dry.

“Well, baby,” she said, her voice softening just a fraction. “This is what pressure looks like.”

You didn’t respond. Not right away.

There was a silence between you—something weighty, not quite painful, but real. Something that made you sit up straighter and take your legs out of the bucket. You wiped them dry with a towel as your heart thudded in your chest.

Because somewhere in the middle of that call, the fog lifted.

You remembered who you were.

You weren’t some freshman with big shoes to fill. You weren’t just Diana’s daughter. You weren’t just a shiny new recruit with a Nike deal and a highlight tape that made grown men gasp.

You were you.

You’d broken records before you could legally drive. You’d played against grown women in the Olympics. You’d stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the best of the best and dominated.

You didn’t have to be liked.

You just had to win.

And if Juju was going to come for you, push you around, run her mouth?

Good.

You’d run harder. Hit back cleaner. Score louder. And when the time came—when the lights were on and the title was on the line—she’d see.

They’d all see.

You wiped your eyes—tears you hadn’t even realized were building. Not sad tears. Just… heavy ones. Exhaustion. Frustration. A little clarity.

“Thanks,” you muttered finally.

Diana chuckled. “You done crying now?”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Sure.”

You cracked the tiniest smile, pressing your phone to your chest.

“I’m gonna win it, you know,” you whispered. “I’m gonna win the whole damn thing.”

“I know,” she said.

And she meant it.

She didn’t say ‘if.’ She said when.

Because deep down, Diana had always known this day would come—the day you stopped playing like her daughter and started playing like yourself.

And it started here.

In a quiet dorm room, with your knees still aching and your ego a little bruised, but your vision suddenly, perfectly clear.

--

The air hangs heavy as you walk into the gym the next morning. It's not just the early heat, though it clings to the rafters like a thick curtain, but the palpable weight of yesterday.

Everyone feels it. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife.

The upperclassmen, who witnessed the argument firsthand, avoid eye contact. The coaches, forced to end scrimmage after only twenty minutes of barely-contained hostility, wear tight-lipped expressions. And the freshmen, their eyes wide, dart between Juju and you, as if they'd just watched two titans clash.

You stride in with your usual swagger – custom Jordan slides, iced coffee clutched in your hand, the hood of your sweatshirt still shadowing your braids. But there's a new tension in your jaw, a barely leashed energy simmering beneath the surface. Your eyes sweep across the court the moment you step inside.

Juju is already there, headphones clamped over her ears, hoodie discarded, meticulously tying her shoes. She doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge your arrival in any way.

But she knows. You both do.

Coach's whistle pierces the strained quiet the second everyone gathers.

"Alright, let's cut the shit," she declares, clipboard in one hand, the other planted firmly on her hip. "We need to talk."

The gym stills. Every movement ceases.

You lean against the baseline wall, arms crossed over your chest. Juju finally pulls off her headphones and joins the semicircle.

"I don't care if you hate each other," Coach says, her gaze sweeping between the two of you. "But what I do care about is this program. And the culture we're trying to build here."

A long, heavy pause stretches out. You can feel the heat prickling behind your ears.

"If I have to bench two of the best players in the country to make a point," Coach adds, her voice firm, "I will."

That makes everyone shift uncomfortably. Even Juju blinks, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.

"You think I won't sit you for the first game?" Coach says, her gaze now locked onto yours. "Try me."

Your jaw clenches tighter.

Coach pivots to Juju. "You think I care what ESPN ranked you? You act like that again, you're out."

The silence that follows isn't just awkward – it's charged with unspoken threats and simmering frustration.

And then, just as abruptly, Coach claps her hands together.

"Same teams as yesterday," she announces. "Watkins. Y/N. You're together today."

You nearly groan out loud. Juju scoffs softly under her breath. You both line up. The whistle blows, sharp and decisive.

And then something unexpected happens.

It begins as pure muscle memory. You take the inbound pass and your eyes instinctively scan the court, pivoting naturally to where Juju usually cuts across the top of the key – and there she is. Quick. Fluid. Your eyes meet for a fleeting second, and without even thinking, you pass the ball.

Juju catches it in stride and elevates for a mid-range jumper.

Nothing but net.

No celebration. No smug smile. Just two silent nods exchanged across the court.

Next possession, Juju finds herself trapped in the corner, two defenders closing in. You see it unfold even before she calls for help – you slip out of the paint, creating an open passing lane. Juju whips the ball to you without looking. You take two quick dribbles, spin off your defender, and hand it right back.

Juju drives baseline, two defenders clinging to her hip, and pulls up for another shot.

Swish.

And then it clicks.

You move together as if you're wired the same way. You dictate the pace, and Juju responds with perfect timing. Juju pushes the tempo, and you fill the lane without hesitation. It's intuitive. Seamless. Like two pieces of the same powerful engine finally finding their rhythm.

Coach folds her arms on the sideline, her eyes narrowed in observation.

You're not just good together. You're terrifying.

Even with the lingering tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air – neither of you smiling, neither speaking – it doesn't matter. Your bodies communicate in a language you haven't shared until now. Pure, instinctive chemistry. And the rest of the team feels it too. Plays that were once clunky and disjointed now flow smoothly, both of you orchestrating the pace with an effortless understanding.

You start anticipating Juju's footwork, trailing behind her and dishing the ball mid-step, trusting her to catch and finish. Juju begins trusting you to take the pressure off when she's double-teamed – something she rarely allows anyone to do.

For the first time in her life, Juju isn't the only one calling the shots.

And she doesn't hate it.

She wants to hate it – wants to ignore the way your timing elevates her game, makes her sharper. Wants to pretend the bounce passes that slice between defenders aren't the best she's seen since high school.

But facts are undeniable.

You make the game easier. You even make it fun.

But Juju isn't about to admit that. Not with yesterday's harsh words still lodged in her throat.

She glances at you after another assist – a fast break finish, clean and precise – and catches the faintest hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Cocky. Effortless. Of course.

You don't say anything either.

You're not ready to voice it aloud, but this feels right. This is what basketball should be. Fast, ruthless, and beautiful. And for the first time in a long time, you're not the only one who can match your tempo.

You've spent weeks dreading Juju's presence, resenting her dominance. But out here, with the scoreboard ticking, sweat dripping, and no one else able to keep up?

You can't deny it. You need her.

And maybe, just maybe, Juju needs you too.

Coach's whistle blows again. "Hold it."

Everyone freezes mid-motion.

She doesn't speak for a few long seconds. She just looks at the two of you, her gaze intense. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips.

"That's what I'm talking about," she says, her voice low and steady.

She isn't grinning or clapping her hands like some overly enthusiastic little league coach. No – Coach looks satisfied. Like someone who's been patiently waiting for this exact moment to unfold.

"If you two keep playing like that," she says slowly, deliberately, "we're not just going to the tournament."

Another pause hangs in the air.

"We're making a deep run."

Your heart thuds in your chest.

Juju doesn't look over at you. But she doesn't have to. You both know what that means.

It isn't about becoming best friends. Or even about getting along.

It's about legacy.

About banners hanging in the rafters. About proving something – everything – to the world. And you're finally on the same page.

Even if neither of you is ready to say it out loud.

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[moiraimyths]

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) | Official Trailer

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) is a lore-rich and choice-driven historical fantasy visual novel inspired by Irish mythology and Celtic folklore. Play as a tenant farmer from mid-19th century Ireland, whose path becomes inexplicably entwined in fairy affairs after getting robbed by the roadside and lured into the mythic and war-torn world of Tír na nÓg: A once unified land, now divided into the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Will you escape and return home with your stolen belongings? Or does fate have something else in mind?

🍃 STEAM 🍂 ITCH.IO 🍃PATREON 🍂DISCORD 🍃

Eager to play? Certain route content is available NOW in early access on Steam and Itch.io! For more information, click below👇

Meet the Cast

Facts & Questions: The Game

🍃 The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) is a Kickstarter-funded project currently in development. Due to the scope of the story, we will be releasing it serially over several years to Steam and Itch.io, and discounting it while in early access. The earlier it's bought, the cheaper it will be overall, and you'll only need to buy the game once!

🍂 Not all routes are currently available! As of Nov. 1, 2024, you can play half of Shae and Maeve's routes; both approximately 50k words. If you're not sure about paying for an unfinished game, feel free to check out our free demo first. It consists of Vol. 1, Book of the Traveller (the pre-route content). Differences between the demo's Vol. 1 and the paid game's Vol. 1 are marginal following our August 1, 2024 re-release of the demo.

🍃 The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) has a recommended reading order (Vol. 1, then 2, then 3, etc.), which will correspond to the release order of the routes. For more information on our reasoning behind this, click here.

🍂 Due to its setting, The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) will occasionally feature instances of characters speaking in Gaeilge, i.e. the Irish language. All instances of Gaeilge are linked to an internal translation tool, which is voiced by Nigel McKeon, a Gaeilgeoir.

🍃 The main character is yours to shape. At minimum, you must choose a nickname, pronouns, and one of four default appearances, the last of which can be your own artwork (instructions are included in the game's files). You may also choose to discard the True Name…

🍂 All routes, both current and upcoming, will have both romantic and platonic choice options. If you're uninterested in romance, feel free to make friends instead! No matter the nature of your relationship, you will still be able to reach the good end. (Want to learn more? Refer to this post!)

🍃 Our cast consists of two men, two women, and two non-binary characters. All are romancable no matter the MC, but some characters are asexual or on the aromantic spectrum, which may impact aspects of their romances.

🍂 If you are a Mac user and are having issues launching the game via the Itch direct download, refer to this guide for troubleshooting before sending us an ask. We strongly recommend purchasing the game through Steam instead of Itch if you are a Mac user; it is the best way to avoid issues with launching the game.

🍃 NDM is very intentionally set just prior to the onset of the Great Famine, which is both thematically and textually relevant to the leftist, anti-imperialist story we're aiming to tell. If you would like more insight into this, refer to this post.

🐎 There are secrets to be found in this game, with more yet to come. Prepare yourself for a lot of horse related shenanigans. 🐎

Facts & Questions: The Company

🧵 Moirai Myths is a five-person company based out of Canada. The core devs/founders go by Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. All writing and programming are done by this collective, i.e. the Fates.

🪡 Moirai Myths has a two person in-house artist team consisting of Kazane, our Character/UI Designer, and Melinoe, our Environmental Designer. In addition to them, though, we have had a number of guest artists assist us with the creation of sprites, CGs, and an assortment of other materials. If you'd like to meet them, check out our about page on our website!

✂️ Moirai Myths stands with the people of Palestine 🇵🇸

Disclaimer: This description will be updated periodically. If you're reading this in a reblog, you may want to check our current pinned post for potential changes.

[reasonsforhope]

Paywall-Free Version

"Massachusetts’ so-called ��millionaires tax” appears primed to actually deliver billions.

State officials said Monday that the voter-approved surtax on high earners has generated more than $1.8 billion in revenue this fiscal year... meaning state officials could have hundreds of millions of surplus dollars to spend on transportation and education initiatives.

The estimated haul is already $800 million more than what Governor Maura Healey and state lawmakers planned to spend from its revenue in fiscal year 2024, the first full year of its implementation. Most of the additional money raised beyond the $1 billion already budgeted would flow to a reserve account, from which state policymakers can pluck money for one-time investments into projects or programs.

The Department of Revenue won’t certify the official amount raised until later this year. But the estimates immediately buoyed supporters’ claims that the surtax would deliver much-needed revenue for the state despite fears it could drive out some of the state’s wealthiest residents.

“Opponents of the Fair Share Amendment claimed that multi-millionaires would flee Massachusetts rather than pay the new tax, and they are being proven wrong every day,” said Andrew Farnitano, a spokesperson for Raise Up Massachusetts, the union-backed group which pushed the 2022 ballot initiative.

"With this money from the ultra-rich, we can do even more to improve our public schools and colleges, invest in roads, bridges, and public transit, and start building an economy that works for everyone,” Farnitano said.

Voters approved the measure in 2022 to levy an additional 4 percent tax on annual earnings over $1 million. At the time, the Massachusetts Budget and Policy Center, a left-leaning think tank, projected it could generate at least $2 billion a year.

State officials last year put their estimates slightly lower at up to $1.7 billion, and lawmakers embraced calls from economists to cap what it initially spends from the surtax, given it may be too volatile to rely upon in its first year.

So far, it’s vastly exceeded those expectations, generating nearly $1.4 billion alone last quarter [aka January to March, 2024 - just three months!], which coincided with a better-than-expected April for tax collections overall...

State Senator Michael Rodrigues, the state’s budget chief, said on the Senate floor Monday that excess revenue from the tax could ultimately come close to $1 billion for this fiscal year. Under language lawmakers passed last year, 85 percent of any “excess” revenue is transferred to an account reserved for one-time projects or spending, such as road maintenance, school building projects, or major public transportation work.

“We will not have any problems identifying those,” Rodrigues said. “As we all know, [transportation and education] are two areas of immense need.”"

-via Boston Globe, May 20, 2024

[directactionforhope]

"Starting this month [June 2024], thousands of young people will begin doing climate-related work around the West as part of a new service-based federal jobs program, the American Climate Corps, or ACC. The jobs they do will vary, from wildland firefighters and “lawn busters” to urban farm fellows and traditional ecological knowledge stewards. Some will work on food security or energy conservation in cities, while others will tackle invasive species and stream restoration on public land. 

The Climate Corps was modeled on Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps, with the goal of eventually creating tens of thousands of jobs while simultaneously addressing the impacts of climate change. 

Applications were released on Earth Day, and Maggie Thomas, President Joe Biden’s special assistant on climate, told High Country News that the program’s website has already had hundreds of thousands of views. Since its launch, nearly 250 jobs across the West have been posted, accounting for more than half of all the listed ACC positions. 

“Obviously, the West is facing tremendous impacts of climate change,” Thomas said. “It’s changing faster than many other parts of the country. If you look at wildfire, if you look at extreme heat, there are so many impacts. I think that there’s a huge role for the American Climate Corps to be tackling those crises.”  

Most of the current positions are staffed through state or nonprofit entities, such as the Montana Conservation Corps or Great Basin Institute, many of which work in partnership with federal agencies that manage public lands across the West. In New Mexico, for example, members of Conservation Legacy’s Ecological Monitoring Crew will help the Bureau of Land Management collect soil and vegetation data. In Oregon, young people will join the U.S. Department of Agriculture, working in firefighting, fuel reduction and timber management in national forests. 

New jobs are being added regularly. Deadlines for summer positions have largely passed, but new postings for hundreds more positions are due later this year or on a rolling basis, such as the Working Lands Program, which is focused on “climate-smart agriculture.”  ...

On the ACC website, applicants can sort jobs by state, work environment and focus area, such as “Indigenous knowledge reclamation” or “food waste reduction.” Job descriptions include an hourly pay equivalent — some corps jobs pay weekly or term-based stipends instead of an hourly wage — and benefits. The site is fairly user-friendly, in part owing to suggestions made by the young people who participated in the ACC listening sessions earlier this year...

The sessions helped determine other priorities as well, Thomas said, including creating good-paying jobs that could lead to long-term careers, as well as alignment with the president’s Justice40 initiative, which mandates that at least 40% of federal climate funds must go to marginalized communities that are disproportionately impacted by climate change and pollution. 

High Country News found that 30% of jobs listed across the West have explicit justice and equity language, from affordable housing in low-income communities to Indigenous knowledge and cultural reclamation for Native youth...

While the administration aims for all positions to pay at least $15 an hour, the lowest-paid position in the West is currently listed at $11 an hour. Benefits also vary widely, though most include an education benefit, and, in some cases, health care, child care and housing. 

All corps members will have access to pre-apprenticeship curriculum through the North America’s Building Trades Union. Matthew Mayers, director of the Green Workers Alliance, called this an important step for young people who want to pursue union jobs in renewable energy. Some members will also be eligible for the federal pathways program, which was recently expanded to increase opportunities for permanent positions in the federal government...

 “To think that there will be young people in every community across the country working on climate solutions and really being equipped with the tools they need to succeed in the workforce of the future,” Thomas said, “to me, that is going to be an incredible thing to see.”"

-via High Country News, June 6, 2024

--

Note: You can browse Climate Corps job postings here, on the Climate Corps website. There are currently 314 jobs posted at time of writing!

Also, it says the goal is to pay at least $15 an hour for all jobs (not 100% meeting that goal rn), but lots of postings pay higher than that, including some over $20/hour!!

[the1younevernoticed]

I work in the government. At the VA as a social worker. I want to document what I have seen so I’m not gaslit into thinking it isn’t as crazy as it clearly is right now.

I am editing some things down. I will be sharing non-political facts and personal concerns as they relate to me on a personal level through my job. My opinions and beliefs do not represent the VA, the government, or any political party. These posts are to encourage transparency for all.

This may be a long one.

It started with an email. And then continued with many more.

First email:

1/22/2025

MESSAGE FROM THE ACTING SECRETARY

We are taking steps to close all agency diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (DEIA) offices and end all DEIA-related contracts in accordance with President Trump’s executive orders titled Ending Radical and Wasteful Government DEI Programs and Preferencing and Initial Rescissions of Harmful Executive Orders and Actions.

These programs divided Americans by race, wasted taxpayer dollars, and resulted in shameful discrimination.

We are aware of efforts by some in government to disguise these programs by using coded or imprecise language. If you are aware of a change in any contract description or personnel position description since November 5, 2024, to obscure the connection between the contract and DEIA or similar ideologies, please report all facts and circumstances to DEIAtruth@opm.gov within 10 days.

There will be no adverse consequences for timely reporting this information. However, failure to report this information within 10 days may result in adverse consequences.

In addition to the above, all personnel are directed to withdraw any final or pending documents, directives, orders, materials, and equity plans issued by the agency in response to now-repealed Executive Order 14035, Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Accessibility (DEIA) in the Federal Workforce (June 25, 2021). These actions must be taken immediately, but no later than January 31, 2025.

Thank you for your attention to this important matter.

Todd B. Hunter

Acting Secretary

This is an OFFICIAL email to federal employees. The language was shocking to our whole team. We are social workers. We work in kindness and helpfulness and we have been told there would be consequences if we do not report our coworkers.

There were messages between coworkers in fear of what this meant. If this would mean we couldn’t do our jobs.

Our morning meeting was cryptic and fearful. As federal employees, there are rules in place that extend beyond “appropriate language” that the community has. We are not allowed to discuss politics, express opinions on any party or figure or ruling, or protest of any kind. It’s called the Hatch Act 1939.

So we all sat there. All 30 of us. Unsure what could be said. We could see the smiles on one or two of those on the team that had spewed hate in the past, but at large we were all in shock.

I moved to the VA from hospice. I saw veterans dying and wanted to be part of the system to help them pass peacefully. Even though I am not pro-military, I am pro-senior care. And the VA is one of the few free systems that can actually help. I feel like I can actually help.

But god is it hard to work here right now. There is no shame in being conservative or liberal in beliefs. It’s a valid point. But the system I personally work in is suffering with this administration change right now.

This VA system is a socialist system that veterans can come to make up for the gaps in services that those in the community can’t escape. I have veterans coming to me concerned for their services. I can only offer hope to them. I’m frustrated daily now with the emails coming through.

I moved to the VA because, as a social worker, the community was so limited on options that I would feel depressed daily on what I couldn’t help with. Now I feel like I losing my mind even more. I think of quitting daily, but I want to stay and help if I can.

Our government has so much power and capacity for good. I want to be a part of that.

I’ll post more emails as well.

Be safe everyone

Disclaimer: this post is for educational purposes and is in no way supporting any particular political party and is not meant to incite any political activity

[cutehoons02]

TOO CLINGY WITH YOU?

* pairing: Jay x reader (grumpy x sunshine)

* tags: fluffy,kiss,a little smut,misunderstandings, jealousy

* synopsis: You liked Jay for a long time but could not admit your feelings and Jay seemed to not cling on anything (or maybe he was just pretending)

* word count: 2k (Tell me if you like this kind of stories:)

© cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

(English is not my native language)

You and Jay were not engaged but neither friends, were in a limbo of uncertainties, and for the first time in your life you had seen Jay look at you sadly and go angry from your home. You and he were the perfect representation of grumpy x sunshine, only that you too were quite extrovert but only with those few people who made you feel comfortable; instead, he also talked to the walls, joked with everyone, made even the most shy and lonely people comfortable and for your misfortune flirted with most of the girls on campus. Before you met him and became his "friend" you knew of his reputation throughout the university but you would never have thought to express feelings for him…

That night you were watching a reality show you both loved, it was kind of "Too Hot To Handle" but in an Asian version, and every time they aired it you couldn’t stop laughing or gossiping about the contestants, or the choices made by the various authors of the program to make it more spicy but at the same time fun. Jay had his face resting on your breast. With one hand he drew you small circles in the lower back and a myriad of chills made their way into your body, it was the first time in your entire life that you felt so overwhelmed by a guy and were seriously afraid to let Jay know that you liked him, but at the same time you hated the feeling you had as he gently touched your body like a feather that could go away forever.

"Jay, could you move your head for a second? You’re squeezing my breasts and tomorrow should get me the period so they hurt me". A little laugh came out of the boy from Seattle and after a few seconds you had in front of your face a Jay with the tufts all in front and with a small smile, every time he smiled out of his little dimples that you loved to touch, but that night you needed all of Jay’s body attached to yours but at the same time you would send him away because you would regret telling him how you felt about him and you didn’t want to lose his company. "Why aren’t you even touching me with a finger Y/n? I’ve been trying to feel your hands on my body all night but it seems like i’m a ghost for you today! I know you don’t like physical contact with people but with me there was never any problem, until today." Jay’s eyes darkened and his jaw got as hard to make him look more man, your little hand came up to his face but was faster than you, and his hand immediately squeezed you and put it behind your head. "It’s not me that urges you to touch me but you must want me, what is going on in this little angel's, head for a couple of days i see you strange?"

You wanted to shout out to the world what you felt when you were with him, and it wasn’t just about his physical appearance but what you felt as you watched him push himself to reach his dreams,He warmed your heart whenever he helped someone in trouble with his positive statements,You loved to see him focused while he played something on the guitar or when he pulled your sweatshirt or your dress to stand by his side while you were at a party or just during the queue for coffee.

"You’re too clingy with me Jay, i’m not the one who doesn’t touch you but in this last period you are always attached to me like a puppy!" After you grabbed it, you felt Jay’s body move away from yours and a sense of emptiness struck you in the face of Jay fi formed a small wrinkle and after a few seconds stood up from your bed. "I didn’t seem that he was too sticky with you last week while i kissed you all over the body, but if for you i am a puppy who needs only you, you are mistaken big Y/n" Jay was wrong because you were the only one who made him feel like a boy at first with a thousand butterflies in his stomach while he watched you do the simplest things in this world, like petting a dog or preparing a cake together. He loved spending time with you and his feelings for that shy girl he saw for the first time at that party organized by his friend Jungwon, with time they had grown, also the jealousy to see you smiling with other guys had become a habit that grew more and more; but when you told her it was too sticky and that it bothered you her touch did not waste time to get away from you. He wanted to see if what he felt for you was real, For you too and so; he ended up at another party with all his dearest friends drinking and joking but a part of him would have liked to be in your company watching that stupid program where it was supposed to be about not feeling what the contestants did with you, because he would have wanted to kiss you from everything and claim that you were his.

The music was ringing all over the house and you were drinking your drink and listening to a guy who had come forward to ask if you wanted to dance with him, but your answer was no for the guy in front of you with red locks could not take his eyes off and flirt funnily but at the same time cringe with you. "I don’t like dancing, especially with a stranger and then i’m waiting for my boyfriend!" You told a white lie to the boy in front of you but you knew that somewhere in the house there was your best friend Jungwon, his friends, and surely also Jay.

You saw him coming closer and closer and your eyes moved intimidated by his sight to that of the center of the lounge until you felt yelling your name and a familiar hand leaned on the low bottom of your body "Angel you could have written me that you had just arrived at the party" The pressure of Jay’s hand was strong in your body and his obvious jaw hardened more when he saw you smiling to that ragged one with bordeux hair before his eyes, but after a few minutes he realized that you were not at all comfortable talking to that boy and a sense of jealousy and protection was affirmed throughout his body. "You better hold on tight, i asked her to dance but she told me she was engaged." You looked very bad to the boy in front of you and tried to get away from Jay’s hold but she became even more protective and tight towards you. "Quiet from next time i will always come with my girlfriend not leave her at the mercy of boys who can’t accept rejection!" a little smile came out of your lips and Jay’s hand took yours and you walked away from that boy and after a while you found yourself leaning against the wall of his room.

"Did Angel try to touch you without your consent or make jokes about how you’re dressed?" Jay’s gentle hand leaned against your face and the scent of whisky mixed with honey and a note of wood invaded you "No no, he just wanted to dance with me, but when i told him, i didn’t want to and that i was engaged he didn’t believe me because he saw me going in alone." "You don’t come alone to these kinds of parties anymore, guys can’t control themselves when they see a beautiful girl like you angel. Especially if they see a single girl dressed in such an attractive dress, even the most sane guy would have to ask you to dance with him and put his hands on your hips to the rhythm of music" a rosier infested your cheeks and a little rising heat ran through your body "stop flirting with me Jay, you’ve seen me dressed in this skirt and i have nothing less than other girls, and down at the party there will be more beautiful and more confident than me with guys."

"I know you think i’m a loser and you’ll call me "puppy" but it’s been more than a week since i touched you and i need to kiss you, when i saw you talking to that loser, a feeling of jealousy and protection burst in me. I know i’m not the guy of your dreams because i saw how you avoided me these days but fuck y/n i like you and can’t help being sticky with you, if you’re around" When you heard these words coming out of Jay you did not think for a moment and you put your lips in those of Jay, the kiss had started slowly but Jay had other plans with you, he had always pulled back because he was afraid that you ran away from him. She wanted to kiss you for hours but needed to feel your sweet scent of flowers and figs, so i put her lips in one of the most sensitive points of your body. He loved to kiss your neck and collarbones but the thing that made him crazy more than all was your breast and with a hint of yours he took off the top you had and with one hand he tickled your left breast and with his lips, he merged to fill you with kisses and mark your other breast,his big hand was perfect for your breasts and various moans came out of your mouth and a grin made its way into Jay’s lips.

"Angel you’re perfect for me, and no other guy will touch you for I don’t know how long because i don't like to share anything of mine, but if you want all this too you must strive not to be shy with me to tell me if it is too much or if you don’t like something you should not be ashamed to tell me" You put your hands on his face and kissed the little mole that he had on his forehead a strong sense of letting him know that you cared for him and that you liked to kiss the small butterfly-shaped birthmark/heart that he had on his neck.