#scrum interview questions

[enterprisetrainingexperts]

Top 25 Frequently Asked Scrum Master Interview Questions for 2023

Have a Scrum Master interview coming up? It's natural to be nervous. But worry not! We've got you covered.  Scrum has gained popularity and is being adopted by companies worldwide. As a result, there's an increased demand for Certified Agile Scrum Masters. Read More:

[scoringeffects]

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[incloudcity]

could you write a fic with quinn where he's dating a reporter but they keep the relationship in secret specially because of her carrer but accidently in a post game interview he slips a "thanks princess" or any other cute thing, while they are on live, n that makes her blushes and suddenly the whole hockey world knows they are together

off the record | qh43

requests are open

a/n: guys i’m sooooo sick i think im dying so this is all you get for tonight. hopefully i can catch up on drafts and requests in a little bit once im better

You’d been covering the Canucks for just over a month when Quinn Hughes became your problem.

On camera, he was a dream for a reporter — short answers, eye contact, always polite. Off camera? A menace. Quiet, smirky, and way too comfortable leaning just a bit too close.

“Nice question,” he said under his breath one night, handing back your recorder. “You practice in the mirror, sweetheart?”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Do you actually answer the media’s questions, or do you just flirt with them until they leave you alone?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Depends. Is it working?”

You walked away without replying.

He caught up with you later with a cup of coffee, one you hadn’t asked for, in his hand.

“Two sugars, no cream, right?” he asked.

You stared. “That better not be a guess.”

He just smiled, leaned against the hallway wall like he had nowhere else to be. “I’m observant.”

“Uh-huh. And completely unprofessional.”

He tilted his head. “So are you saying you want me to stop?”

You took the coffee. Didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t say no, either.

Over the next few weeks, the game continued. Quinn made it subtle — he never crossed the line where someone else might catch on. But you noticed. The playful jabs. The way he’d tap the table once for everyone, then twice more just for you. When you asked something tough in a presser, he’d sigh like you were personally attacking him — but always with a glint in his eye.

“You’re ruthless,” he said once after a particularly pointed question about power play production.

You smirked. “Maybe stop turning the puck over and I’ll go easier on you.”

“Ohhh,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “Brutal. And you still won’t go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re exhausting, Hughes.”

“You’ll miss me when I stop trying.”

“Looking forward to it.”

But you weren’t. Not really.

The night you finally caved, it wasn’t a grand moment. Just a quiet run-in after practice, late, both of you tired. He looked at you for a second too long. You looked back. No one else was around.

“You wanna grab something to eat?” he asked, softer this time. No smirk. No show.

You hesitated.

“Just dinner,” he added quickly. “No pressure.”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve reminded him that if anyone found out, you’d both get torn apart.

But you didn’t.

After that, everything changed — and nothing did. You kept it private. No one knew about the way he pressed kisses behind your ear when you were brushing your teeth. Or how he’d text you “media availability just got way more interesting” before games.

He never said anything on the record. Until he did.

It was a standard post-game scrum, packed with reporters. You were in your usual spot, notebook in hand, asking about third-period adjustments.

Quinn glanced at you, gave his usual answer — then added, too casually:

“We adjusted in the third, like you said, babe.”

Babe.

It was a split second. One syllable. But it echoed.

Your pen paused mid-sentence. The PR guy blinked like he’d misheard. A few reporters looked around.

You didn’t flinch. Your voice was even. “Noted. Thanks, Hughes.”

But inside, you were screaming.

Later that night, Quinn was pacing your apartment like he was being traded.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered. “I’m so—so sorry. You’re gonna get in trouble. Shit, I didn’t even think. It just—slipped. Like an idiot.”

You sat on the edge of the couch, arms crossed, watching him spiral.

“I literally train my whole life to stay calm under pressure and I blew it with one word—”

“Quinn.”

He froze. His face glazed over with panic.

You stood, walked over, leaned against the counter, and gave him a slow once-over.

“I’m not mad.”

He blinked. “You’re… not?”

“No.” You cracked a grin. “But you should be. Twitter thinks you’re engaged now. You’re a whole meme.”

He groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “Oh my god.”

You pulled out your phone. “Someone edited your post-game quote over a Bridgerton clip.”

“I’m never showing my face again.”

“You’re adorable when you panic.”

He looked up at you, exasperated. “Why are you not freaking out?”

“Because if you think I didn’t screenshot the second it happened, you don’t know me at all.”

He groaned again — and this time you reached up, pulling him in by his hoodie.

“I’ll handle PR,” you said, brushing a kiss over his jaw. “But you’re doing media training again. Just in case.”

He smiled, finally, against your mouth. “Worth it.”

[nymphbnny]

adrenaline

────── ryomen sukuna

⤷ formula one driver!sukuna who takes an interest on a shy reporter.

tw: doggy, daddy kink (slight) oral (male female receiving), mating press, breeding kink, spanking, not proofread, MDNI

got inspired by this beautiful work here, go show some love <3 @to00fu

it was loud — overwhelmingly so. the roar of engines echoed off the narrow streets of monte carlo as you arrived at the circuit de monaco, badge swinging around your neck, notebook clutched to your chest. your team had sent you to cover the monaco grand prix, one of the crown jewels of the formula 1 calendar. it was your first time at a live event of this scale, and your assignment? try to score an interview with none other than ryomen sukuna — two-time monaco winner, three-time berlin champion, and the most elusive driver on the grid.

he wasn’t known for giving interviews. in fact, most in the press pen described him as cold, cocky, and unreachable. but still, if you could manage to get him to speak to you — really speak — it would be a game-changer for your career.

“hey, you ready?” your coworker called from the media shuttle. “we’ve got to be in the press briefing before the pre-race prep starts.”

you nodded quickly, adjusting your press lanyard, and followed the flow of reporters into the media center. inside, the buzz was palpable. you took your seat, legs crossed tightly, foot tapping against the floor. you were trying to calm your nerves, but your eyes kept drifting toward the door.

and then, the room shifted.

cheers and whistles broke out as sukuna entered. you stood instinctively, craning your neck to get a glimpse — and there he was. tall, broad-shouldered in his fitted team suit, race cap pulled low over his sharp eyes. he didn’t wave or acknowledge the room, just walked in with the quiet authority of a man who knew he didn’t need to try.

your throat dried. he was stunning. the kind of stunning that made your cheeks burn as you forced your gaze back to your notes. inappropriate thoughts crept in anyway. you pressed your knees together, trying to shake them off.

one by one, the journalists posed their questions. sukuna’s replies were short, clipped, sometimes sarcastic. he didn’t suffer fools — or flattery. and then it was your turn.

you stood, heart hammering. he watched you as you rose — not dismissively, but with interest, eyes following the way you clutched your notes like a lifeline.

“i was wondering,” you began, voice just steady enough, “about the profile picture you use across your social media — the one with you and your father in the small f1 kart. was he your inspiration to race?”

there was a beat of silence. a few reporters chuckled. someone scoffed. but sukuna didn’t. instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. he twisted the cap onto his water bottle and looked straight at you. “my dad was everything. i learned to race to make him proud,” he said, and for a second, his voice softened.

you nodded, lips curling into a smile, and sat down — your heart doing laps faster than any car on the grid. the rest of the questions blurred together. you could feel his eyes on you now and then, sharp and unreadable.

engines revved in the pit lane as the sun dipped lower over monte carlo’s harbor. the race was chaos and choreography all at once — twenty cars weaving through the tight hairpins and unforgiving chicanes, the scream of the v6 turbo engines reverberating off the grandstands.

you watched from the media zone, gripping your headset as the final laps unfolded. overtakes were rare in monaco, but sukuna was a master of precision. when he made his move into the nouvelle chicane, it was clean and lethal — the kind of move that made commentators lose their minds.

and then, the checkered flag waved. sukuna had won.

the crowd erupted. flares lit up. and the press surged forward.

“come on!” your coworker shouted, already pushing toward the media scrum gathering by parc fermé. reporters crowded around the victorious driver, shouting over one another. microphones flashed. cameras clicked.

you tried to move forward — but it was impossible. the mob was too thick, too loud.

“watch out!” someone yelled, but too late — another reporter shoved past you, knocking you off balance.

you stumbled forward, straight into someone’s chest. strong arms steadied you. a hand curled around your wrist. it was him. security started to react, but sukuna raised a hand, waving them off. his eyes — sharp and amused — scanned your face.

“you again, sweetheart?” he said low enough for only you to hear. his thumb brushed gently across the inside of your wrist. or maybe you imagined that part. you weren’t sure. he was close — so close it was dizzying.

he leaned in, lips near your ear. “if you’re serious about that interview,” he murmured, “meet me at the hotel hermitage. room 1801. nine o’clock. reception will let you up.”

and just like that, he walked away, ignoring the press, his team, everyone else.

your coworker caught up to you, wide-eyed. “what did he say?!” you blinked, still stunned. “he said… my questions were soft.” you lied, smiling to yourself.

you didn’t know if you’d go, but it might just be your shot.

you stared at the clock in your hotel room: 8:52 p.m.

you had paced the suite five times, changed your outfit twice, and debated texting your editor a dozen more. was this a mistake? would he even remember he invited you? your press pass lay on the nightstand, staring back at you like a dare.

by 8:57, you were in the elevator heading to the 18th floor of hotel hermitage. the hallway was quiet, plush carpet soft under your shoes. everything smelled like expensive cologne and fresh linen. it felt like the kind of place where secrets were expected — and kept.

you knocked on the door marked 1801.

no response.

you hesitated, lifting your hand again — but the door cracked open.

he stood there, Ryomen Sukuna — hair still wet, towel slung around the back of his neck, a few droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his bare chest. tattoos sprawled across his torso, wrapping around his arms, ink trailing over defined muscle and disappearing under a pair of low-sitting black lounge shorts. no shirt. just heat. and skin. and ink.

he looked completely unbothered by his own state of undress.

“you’re early,” he said, voice gravelly — not annoyed, but amused.

you tried to say something — anything — but your words got lost somewhere between the towel on his neck and the line of his collarbone.

he tilted his head slightly. “you coming in or just going to stare?” you stepped inside before you embarrassed yourself further.

the suite was dimly lit, with soft light coming from the floor lamps and the glow of monaco’s coast beyond the balcony windows. there was a half-open bottle of wine on the table near the couch, two glasses already waiting — like this had been a plan from the beginning.

you turned back toward him just as he closed the door. he didn’t move to get dressed. didn’t apologize for it, either.

“so,” he said, walking over to the wine. “you’re here for your big scoop?”

“you invited me,” you managed to say, even if it came out smaller than you intended. he poured the wine slowly. “i know.” he stated lowly, his eyes casually drifting at you, his muscles flexing with every move.

he handed you a glass, and when your fingers brushed his — warm skin, damp from the shower — it felt like a jolt of something you couldn’t name.

“well?” he said, lowering himself onto the couch. “ask your questions.”

you sat across from him, notebook in your lap more for show than purpose. your pen hovered midair, mind trying to chase the professionalism you were supposed to have walked in with. he sipped his wine, eyes never really leaving yours — studying, waiting.

you cleared your throat. “okay. first question… you’ve raced this circuit five times now. do you still get nervous before a big start?”

he leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the towel shifting slightly on his neck. “not really. nerves are a waste of energy. you either trust yourself, or you don’t.”

you nodded, scribbling something down even if it was just to give your hands something to do. “right. uh… who do you think your biggest rival is this season?”

“depends. on paper?” he took another sip. “probably hajime. but mentally? no one.”

you smiled despite yourself. “cocky.”

“confident,” he corrected smoothly. “if you don’t believe you’re the best out there, you’re already behind.”

you made a small noise of agreement, then flipped the page — pretending you weren’t hyperaware of the way his muscles shifted every time he moved. “okay, let’s talk personal life.”

his brow lifted. “now we’re getting interesting.”

you hesitated. “are relationships hard for you, given the lifestyle?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he let the silence settle, then said slowly, “they’re not hard. they’re just not built to last.”

you glanced up at him. “why not?”

“because most people don’t want the truth,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “they want a version of you that makes them feel better about themselves.” your pen paused.

he leaned forward slightly, gaze sharper now. “you ask a lot of curious personal questions.”

“it’s my job,” you replied, trying to match his tone.

“sure,” he said. “or maybe you just want to know what kind of women i like.” your breath caught — not because he was wrong, but because of how plainly he’d said it. your silence stretched too long, and his smirk deepened.

“want me to answer that?”

you swallowed. “wouldn’t that be off the record?”

“maybe,” he said, voice dipping low. “maybe not.” your fingers tightened slightly around your pen. “i’m not uncomfortable.”

“didn’t say you were,” he murmured, leaning in a little more, elbows resting on his knees now, glass dangling from one hand. “but you haven’t moved since i brought it up.”

you met his eyes — steady, unreadable. “so? what kind of women do you like?”

he smiled, slow and deliberate. “ones who ask bold questions with their voice shaking.”

you exhaled — not quite a laugh, not quite a breath — and before you could respond, he tilted his head, voice dropping even lower.

you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from him. his gaze was magnetic — intense, and unwavering.

“you sure you’re still here for the article?” his voice was low, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his words.

you blinked, caught off guard. “i’m… i’m here for the interview,” you said, trying to steady your nerves, but the line between professional and personal was blurring fast.

he didn’t smile this time, his gaze sharpening as he leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “you know,” he said, his tone almost teasing now, “i don’t usually invite people to my room for just a ‘chat.’”

your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the weight of his stare. you weren’t sure if you wanted to step back or closer, but his next words made it all the more complicated.

“tell me,” he murmured, his voice rough but controlled. “after all the questions you’ve asked about everyone else, you haven’t told me much about you.”

his eyes flicked to yours, dark and assessing. “you want to know what kind of woman I like? it’s simple: someone who knows what she wants.” his words were heavy with meaning, lingering in the air.

you swallowed hard. you had no idea where this conversation was going, but you felt your body respond to the shift in energy. it was no longer about the interview, or the questions.

“maybe you’d like me to show you,” he said, leaning closer. there was no mistaking it now. his breath was warm against your skin, and the air felt thick, charged with something undeniable. “or do you prefer to just keep asking?”

this was it. this was the moment you’ve been fantasizing about ever since you’ve laid eyes on him. you lean closer to him, his winey breath on your skin. “i guess, no,” you took a small breath, “i want you to show me, what you like.”

he smirked, his hand removing your glass from your trembling fingers. his face was closer to yours, his other hand wrapping itself around the back of your neck pulling you closer as he captured your lips with his. your stomach erupted, goosebumps rising on your skin as you found your brows furrowing into the kiss.

you placed your hands on his cheeks pulling further toward you, his body lying you down on the couch as he took place above you, careful with his movement without breaking away.

“tell me what you want beautiful and it’s yours,” he whispered into the kiss, “it’s all yours, god.”

you wrapped yourself around him, separating your face from him, face red and flushed. “i want you, please, sukuna,”

without a second wasted, sukuna grabbed your body pulling you up from the couch, his bulge rubbing against your clothed cunt. your hips attempted to get a better feel, pressing yourself closer to him but it was all cut to an end when you were thrown onto his bed.

“so needy,” he chuckled throwing off his towel with a tug, “you want me that bad huh?” he grinned removing his shorts, revealing his swollen tip. your mouth drooled at the sight, his inked body, his beautiful muscles and his aching cock. you couldn’t help but crawl to him, your bottom lip tugged under your teeth as you reached to grab him.

you wrapped your lips around the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, and he groaned, one hand tangling in your hair. you took him deeper, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as you worked him, but he wasn’t patient. how could he when your throat felt so good. he thrust into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. tears pricked your eyes, but the sound of his low, filthy moans made your cunt drip onto the sheets.

“fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. “take every inch baby that’s it.”

you moaned around him, the vibrations making him curse, his grip tightening. he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping, spit dripping down your chin. “not yet,” he said, hauling you to your feet and pushing you back . “i wanna feel that tight little pussy first.”

he shoved your body to his liking, face-down, ass up, pulling down your skirt and panties down. the cool air coming from the open windows hit your slick folds, making you shiver, but then his hand cracked against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made your clit throb. “look at this perfect ass,” he muttered, spanking you again, leaving red handprints. “begging to become one of my trophies.”

“please,” you whimpered, spreading your thighs wider, desperate. “sukuna…”

he chuckled, caressing your soft skin, leaning down to kiss it. “you gon’ be a good girl and take all of daddy?” he taunted. your cunt throbbed, giving him all the answers he needed. sukuna teased your slit with his tip before thrusting into you, one long stroke that stretched your pussy to accommodate his girth. your lips parted, letting out an ecstatic gasp as your gripped onto the silk sheets. his balls were slapping against your clit, the trimmed hair brushing against your skin.

“you feel so good, mhm so fucking good,” he grunted, hands gripping your hips as the wet, obscene sounds of your pussy taking him filled the suite. sweat slicked your skin, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned down, biting your shoulder before kissing it, his mouth trailing from your blades to your neck.

his thrusts pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, your cunt spasming around his cock as you screamed his name. he couldn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release. “gonna fill you up sweetheart,” he mumbled almost whimpering, his cock rubbing against your warm insides before spilling himself inside you.

your head fell heavy on the pillows, body trembling as his weight pinned you to the bed, his cock still buried inside you. your breaths were ragged, the room spinning, cum and sweat staining the sheets.

you whimpered painfully as he pulled out, cum leaking from your tired pussy. a sight for sore eyes, he thought.

it wasn’t until you felt his tongue on you that you realized he wasn’t done yet, lapping at the mixture of both his and your orgasms, moaning as he made out with your folds.

“couldn’t help but have a taste, fuck” his voice sent vibrations to your clit, your hand grabbing his head from behind as best you could to guide him through your climax.

he chuckled at your attempt, “don’t got anymore questions f’me?” he spat on your folds before plunging his fingers, toying with you. “don’t get all shy on me now, not after how you treated my cock,” a trail of moans was your answer, hips bucking as you rushed yourself to come.

“oh yeah i can feel that, gonna come again for daddy baby? yeah?” your nodding was rapid, toes curling as you allowed yourself to be overwhelmed by your orgasm.

“daddy… coming,” you whispered, breath shaky. he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy seeing you like that, calling him daddy, letting him do as he pleases. but then it hit him, he still hasn’t seen your fucked out face.

he smeared your juices all over your cunt, lubing you to prepare you for his hardened cock again. with a simple tug he flipped you over, legs on his shoulders as he dug in, capturing your yelp in his mouth, this time going faster.

you grabbed onto his shoulders, legs wrapping around him to keep him close. he knew he wouldn’t last long, how could he when you were squeezing him like that. he reached to your buttoned shirt, ripping it open, the sounds of your buttons scattering on the floor.

sukuna looked down at you, your soft voice expressing how good he is making you feel. he smirked, his fingers pulling down your bra to be mesmerized by your tits, his hungry mouth unable to resist latching on them.

“oh my god fuck, sukuna… sukuna shit!” your fingers were now in his hair, your nipples respectively getting sucked and played with. “fill me up again, felt so good to have your cum,” you begged, eyes filling with tears.

“never say no to a win,” he chuckled, his face dropping next to yours as he buried his face next to yours, your legs unconsciously letting go of him as your body began shaking, vision getting cloudy.

he moaned in your ear, his skin slapping against yours a few last times before he let himself loose inside you once again.

“you better mention how much i love the adrenaline rush i get in your article sweetheart.”

[slut-for-slutty-fictional-men]

Pole Position

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Journalist!Reader Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers, Flirty Banter, Tension → Explicit Summary: You're a sports journalist known for your sharp questions and no-nonsense energy. Charles is famously charming but not used to being flustered—until he meets you. Interviews become a game of flirty deflections and increasingly inappropriate tension. Word Count: 925 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, power-play dynamic, dirty talk, strong language, consensual manhandling, one (1) cocky Monegasque driver getting emotionally wrecked by a journalist

Masterlist

Charles Leclerc made a career out of staying calm under pressure.

Which is why it drove him insane that you, of all people, could fluster him with a single look.

You were new to the grid this season — a sports journalist with a sharp tongue and zero patience for PR fluff. Within a month, you'd become known for calling out bullshit mid-interview, dragging drivers with surgical precision, and, most dangerously of all, not falling for Charles’s charm.

Not even once.

And he’d definitely tried.

Melbourne, Race 1

You leaned forward during the media scrum, recorder out, voice cool.

“Charles, any regrets about that overtake attempt on Lap 19, or did you just fancy a little lawn mowing?”

The other journalists chuckled.

Charles blinked. Then grinned slowly.

“Are you always this mean,” he asked, “or is it just when I’m sweaty and out of breath?”

You didn’t smile. “Let me know when you're ever not those things.”

He coughed — actually coughed — and the clip went viral by sunset.

Baku, Race 4

“Nice save in Turn 3,” you said, cornering him in the paddock afterward.

“Thank you.”

“Shame about the rest of the lap.”

He exhaled, smirking. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you wear that same shade of lipstick every race weekend, and it makes it very hard to focus on your questions.”

You blinked once. “Try focusing on your braking instead.”

He burst out laughing — and still didn’t stop staring at your mouth.

Barcelona, Race 7

He found you alone by the coffee cart, scrolling on your phone.

“You’re obsessed with me,” he said, unprompted.

You didn’t look up. “I’m obsessed with data. You just happen to be a cautionary tale.”

He stepped closer.

“You know,” he said, voice soft, “you’d be a lot less stressed if you let me take you out.”

You finally looked up, slow and deliberate.

“And you’d be a lot faster if you stopped thinking with your dick.”

His jaw dropped.

You walked off with your coffee, sipping like you hadn’t just ended a man.

Silverstone, Race 10

The tension finally snapped.

It started like always — a simple post-quali interview, you cornering him after a P2 result, microphone in hand, your smirk just this side of cruel.

“You were a tenth off pole,” you said. “Heartbreaking.”

He gave you a look. “I’m still on the front row.”

“But not the front front,” you teased. “Max beat you. Again.”

Charles smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Careful,” he murmured. “Keep poking me like that and I’ll bite.”

You leaned in, dangerously close. “I dare you.”

Something shifted in his face — a flicker of hunger, of impatience finally boiling over. The look he gave you wasn’t flirty. It was a warning.

“You want me to lose control,” he said, low and private.

You smiled. “I want you to admit you’ve already lost it.”

And just like that, the game was over.

Ferrari Motorhome — 6 Minutes Later

The second the door clicked shut behind you, his hands were on you.

No more banter. No more teasing. Just heat.

Your back hit the wall, hard, and his mouth was on yours in the next breath — hot, demanding, all tongue and frustration and finally.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he growled, voice muffled against your neck as his hands dragged your shirt up. “Every time you open your mouth—”

“Then shut me up.”

He did.

His lips were everywhere — jaw, collarbone, down your chest — his hands rough, greedy, like he was trying to prove something.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed, sliding a hand between your legs, teasing over your clothes.

“I want this,” you said, breathless. “I want you.”

“Fuck.”

He lifted you like you weighed nothing, setting you on the low desk behind him. Papers scattered. His fingers were already pushing your underwear aside.

“This what you wanted?” he rasped, eyes dark as sin. “When you taunt me on camera? When you make me think about fucking you right there in the paddock?”

You gasped when his fingers slipped in — slow and deep.

“Say it.”

You whimpered, legs spreading wider. “I wanted it.”

“More than pole?”

“More,” you choked. “More than pole. More than anything.”

That broke him.

He kissed you like he was devouring you — mouth hot and slick, grinding his hips against yours like he couldn’t wait another second.

“Condom,” he muttered, breath ragged. You fumbled to find your bag—he found it first.

And then he was back — rolling it on, lining up, eyes locked on yours.

“You still want me to shut you up?”

“Yes.”

He thrust in one smooth, hard motion and you saw stars.

No teasing now. No performance. Just pure, blistering want.

He held your hips like a man starved, fucking you into the desk hard enough to shake it, your moans swallowed by his mouth, your name muttered like a prayer against your skin.

“Can’t believe you made me wait,” he growled.

“You deserved it.”

“You’re evil.”

“And you love it.”

He groaned — a desperate, broken sound — and came seconds later, hips stuttering, jaw clenched against your neck. You followed with a cry, nails digging into his back, everything going white-hot before it dissolved into aftershocks.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

can u do auston matthews and (slightly) younger gf and lkke players on the other team chirping at him abt her and he gets all like protective

[This was a little borderline "hockey romance" instance for me, babes. I didn't want to be mean, so I did what I could with your ask.]

"Come on, Matthews! Thought you'd have a little more to play for! Robbed the cradle for that new piece of ass you're running around with, right? I know she's watching. Bet she just watched me beat your ass!"

Both Auston and the other player were escorted to their respective boxes, both firing quips back and forth following the opening instigation. Things remained heated between the two men, well into their corresponding penalties. Auston kept his eyes forward, watching his players produce the plays without him, while his competition had his eyes affixed on the Leafs' captain.

"You're a pussy, Matthews! Y|N will realize it soon enough! Bet she leaves your ass before the end of the season!" The mouthy forward just laughed as Auston continued to look on. That last forty-five seconds would tick by so slowly.

There would be numerous scrums between both teams until the final buzzer sounded; retaliation from Toronto for the mistreatment of their captain earlier in the period. The Leafs would go on to win at home, but for one player in question, you may have thought they lost the way his expression came across on film. Auston joined the rest of his team in the dressing room, did his interviews, and expressed his happiness over the win, and the comeback that had taken place. By the time everything was said and done it was late into the evening, and soon time to merge into the post-game Toronto traffic and head home.

"What's wrong, baby?" You asked, seeing Auston shuffle into the bedroom.

"Hm? Oh-- nothing, just tired."

You just looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed because you felt like there was something more he wasn't telling you, so you pressed him again. "Auston?"

"I'm alright, mama. Just some bullshit you don't need to be bothered with."

As he removed his clothes, you watched him, but not in any sort of sexual way, but more out of concern. He looked troubled and it showed through his movements as well as the expression on his face. There was something big beneath the surface and all you wanted to do was help him in any way that you could.

"Come here, baby," you motioned as he made his way to your side of the bed.

Auston said nothing, just pulled back the covers and made himself comfortable on top of you. With his head against your stomach you'd brush his hair back until his eyes fell closed. The way his hands held your body silently conveyed the weight of whatever it was that was holding him back. What could it be?

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Auston sighed, "I don't know why it's bothering me so much."

You'd stay quiet for a second before it dawned on you. "Is this over your fight with Connor?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "I didn't care too much what he was saying about you."

"Well, he's an ass. You know that. I wouldn't waste any time on what that asshole says."

"I know, mama, it's just... it was you he was talking about."

You frowned, still playing with his hair. "Well, I appreciate you being my white knight, though. Next time you play them, high stick him in the neck for me, or spear him in the dick,"

Hearing your sweet voice say such things made Auston laugh genuinely this time around, "I'll see what I can do."

"Can we stop talking about him, please?"

"Oh, absolutely," Auston confessed. "Gladly."

The two of you would spend the next hour with Auston asking you about your day and apologizing for his lack of attention to you lately. You'd reassure him that you understood the late-season struggles and knew that if he had the ability to be with you more, that he would. The fact that he even had the thought to apologize touched your heart.

"Have I told you how much I appreciate you being so understanding and that you don't pick fights?" Auston asked. "It's so refreshing."

You smiled, "No sense in being a drama queen. I'm not you-know-who!"

[overtake]

Not to be weird but I feel like I got zapped when I read your hockey snippet, how didn't I know that this existed? It's literally been living my brain for hours and I've not been able to stop re-reading it since 🙃 clearly you can take the girl out of toronto but you can't take toronto out the girl because im a changed person now. No pressure ofc I mean this in non-prodding way but praying and willing you to put your snippets together. If you never come around to it then I'm glad (and changed) for what you've shared with world regardless 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is SO sweet 🥹 I love you so much. Just for this, please have a bit more hockey au. There's a tiny snippet after a media bit (Surprise, this fic is multi-media! Writing the social media parts has been my fave part of the entire process)

@.MapleLeafs on TikTok: | December 12, 2023

[Players walk by a whiteboard on their way into the practice rink. They're stopped to answer the question written on it as they enter. The caption written over their heads reads: "Who don’t your Leafs want to sit next to on a flight?"]

ALEX ALBON: Easy one. Esteban Ocon. He’ll bite your head off if you make a single noise. I think he’d get mad if the plane was going down and you tried to warn him. LOGAN SARGEANT: Gasly or Ocon. I don’t know if it’s a French thing, but they both get really annoyed if you talk to them on a plane. PIERRE GASLY: Danny Ric. He is the loudest person I’ve ever met in my life. ESTEBAN OCON: Daniel Ricciardo. Sorry, Daniel. DANIEL RICCIARDO: Gasly. Max and I were just having a conversation and he rose up behind us and nearly bit our heads off for laughing. I don’t know why he keeps sitting near us. MAX VERSTAPPEN: I don’t really mind sitting next to anyone. I usually sit next to Daniel, and we have a good time. He keeps movies downloaded for us. They're often not very good, but that's sometimes more fun, you know? YUKI TSUNODA: Daniel. VALTERRI BOTTAS: Daniel Ricciardo. ZHOU GUANYU: Daniel. He is very nice and fun, but sometimes you just want to relax on a flight. MARCUS ERICCSON: Surely everyone except Max picked Daniel, right? FERNANDO ALONSO: I don’t want to sit next to anyone.

Mara (DR’s Reputation Era) @.mv33fan: Fernando Alonso: I hate this entire team The entire team: We hate Daniel and the French Max and Daniel: Ask again later. Our mouths are occupied with each other’s dicks.

________

Theoretically, Daniel knew that his and Max's pre-game ritual could end up on the broadcast. Butt taps and silly handshakes in the tunnel inevitably end up on team Instagram stories even if they don't air on TV. It was to be expected, particularly on a Saturday night game against Ottawa.

Still, he didn’t exactly expect a whole montage. It's a nice little package, to be fair. It shows him and Max laughing next to each other in the tunnels and locker rooms before games, followed by their fingers interlocking in their usual drawn-out high five. Daniel prefers to fist bump the whole team and exit only before the goalies, but his routine with Max is always a bit of a production that holds up the line. It's only a surprise it hasn't been uploaded sooner.

After a game where Max scored two goals and Daniel threw his body in front of a rogue deflection and stopped the Sens from a late-third tie, the media naturally focuses on the montage. God forbid they talk about actual fucking hockey in the hockey interview.

“We call it tangled love,” he tells reporters in the press scrum after the game. “In honour of our artistic collision last game.”

It wasn’t a real collision. They’d just got tangled up together when things got chippy by the net. Their skates had collided and they'd taken each other out while trying to defend Esteban from some Habs players. It was all over social media, though, and Daniel knew they’d end up in some embarrassing NHL moments compilation.

They’d both laid on the ice, a little stunned and a lot stupid, before Daniel let out a giant laugh and broke the tension. Max had risen to his feet and tried to pull up Daniel, only for them both to fall right back down as if this was the first time they'd ever skated.

They’d actually been doing this little handshake all season, but reporters were always happy for a soundbite to latch onto and a joke they’d never let go. There's not much to work with in this league in the way of on-camera personality, so it’d probably be a story for the next week. The go-karting clips of the two of them were so popular than even Max mentioned he’d seen them on Reels, and he’d carefully curated his feed to show him anything but Leafs content.

Daniel can’t explain it, this warmth that makes him feel like he’s glowing from inside out all the time since the season started, but he knows he feels it most when he sees people write his name alongside Max’s like their togetherness is a given.

[notyourprof]

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 – Notes/Summary

When Em @powerful-owl first put out her call for primers (what feels like a hundred years ago now), I swore I had just recently listened to a description of what a race weekend was like for drivers on one of my podcasts, almost certainly F1 Explains. I listened back to the two episodes I thought it might be on, and figured I’d go ahead and take and share some notes on everything, in case there is some useful info in there for others. It turns out I had mis-remembered, because the discussion was about what a race weekend is like for media folks, not drivers, but I think it’s still useful because it does give information about what the drivers’ media obligations are.

In general, I highly recommend the F1 Explains podcast (previously called Formula Why), especially to new F1 fans who want to learn more details about the sport. Katie Osborne and Christian Hewgill co-host it, and on most episodes they pick a single topic (e.g. racing in the rain, street circuits, driver training regimens, etc.) and do a deep dive with a few different experts. But they also do semi-regular “quick-fire” episodes where they cover a bunch of questions that maybe don’t need a full episode to answer. Former Aston Martin strategist and current F1 + Sky Sports strategy analyst Bernie (Bernadette) Collins is a regular guest expert on the quick-fire episodes. (She’s also a regular in MY HEART, because she is amazing and wonderful and has the best Irish accent.) There are a few other rotating experts as well, usually from the F1/Sky Sports family.

Anyways, here is my write-up of the answer to the question about what a race weekend is like for media, which was on the episode from 9 November 2023:

Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers? A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

So feel free to use this information when writing fic, but also remember that you don’t have to have all of your facts absolutely perfectly correct! It’s called fiction for a reason!

There were a lot of other interesting questions and answers in the episode, which I also took notes on, and I will put those below the cut. (Read on to find out which driver has Strong Feelings about the roundabouts near Milton Keynes, and which world champions have accidentally pulled into the wrong pit boxes before, LOL.)

Is this the kind of thing that is interesting and useful? I have a summary written up already for the 2 November 2023 episode, because I thought the "what is race weekend like" question might be in that one, but this is already super long. Should I post the notes on that episode in a different post? I can do notes/summaries for other episodes if that's something people are interested in, but I have a bad history of spending a lot of time documenting things in fandom that no one else ever uses or looks at, so I'm trying to...better allocate my limited spare time.

F1 Explains – 9 November 2023 Quick-fire questions with Bernie Collins & Lawrence Barretto

First, a sidenote: Daniel Ricciardo once did a shoey from one of Lawrence Baretto’s shoes. Daniel signed it and Lawrence has it on desk now.

Q: What construction and logistics have to go into a new street circuit, and how to teams prepare for a brand new track?

A: The streets used for the race track have to be re-laid with new tarmac, there has to be coordination with street opening and closing, hotels and other businesses around the circuit, etc. There is a full episode on racetrack design. To prepare for a new track, teams look closely at historical weather data (including temperatures and wind). They’ll load 2D and sometimes 3D scans of the track into their simulators, although often there isn’t full information yet because the final track hasn’t been finished. Lots of simulations and calculations in an attempt to get as much data as they can in advance. There’s also a full episode about how simulators work.

Q: How important is the engine manufacturer? Are they a glorified sponsor that provides an F1-approved generic engine or are there real technical differences between the engines from different suppliers?

A: There are differences between power units from different manufacturers. It also gives them a chance to really stretch themselves and bring in expertise from all around the company (e.g. if they also manufacture jet engines) and to hopefully get some good PR that will lead to more people buying their street cars. In 2023 for the first time, each engine manufacturer showed their engine off to the press to show the differences between each unit. 2023 engine manufacturers were Ferrari, Renault, Mercedes, and Honda. In 2026, Ford and Audi will join as new manufacturers.

Q: Why do drivers and engineers do track walks? Do all teams and drivers do this?

A: Not all drivers do it, some of them will do a run or go out on a scooter. Reasons to do it include looking for changes from last year (new bumps, changes to gravel or curbs (kerbs), etc.) as well as having a bit of uninterrupted time for drivers and their race engineers to talk to each other. Also can be helpful to the commentators/presenters. Helps everyone build/remember their muscle memory of the track if they’ve been there before.

Q: Is F1 using AI? Could it be used for race strategy?

A: Yes, most teams are already doing machine learning in calculations and simulations, but for now human input is still required (and probably always will be).

(Repeating this here because this is where it was in the episode) Q: What are race weekends like for media and broadcasters? Are there dedicated times the media can speak to drivers?

A: F1 is one of the sports where media actually get the most availability of drivers for the media. Thursday is Media Day. Each team puts out a list of times, usually a 5-20 minute window, where TV or print media can come along and ask questions. For TV it’s called a “scrum” where the media are in a sort of arc around the driver with all of their cameras pointed at the driver and they take turns asking questions. Written media is similar. If the driver misses that time for whatever reason, there usually aren’t any backup times. Media can also request one-to-one interviews at a separate time, but that is negotiated and set weeks and weeks in advance. Each team puts aside one hour for media time on a Thursday that includes the TV and written media scrums as well as any one-to-one interviews. Additionally, every weekend there are two press conferences held by the FIA on Media Day. Ten drivers do the press conference with written media where the drivers are all sat together at a desk or on couches answering questions. The other ten drivers do the TV pen, which is a U-shape with all of the TV crews standing around the outside and each driver works their way around the U talking to each TV crew. Each crew gets a maximum of two questions per driver. After each practice session, qualifying, and the race itself, the drivers will do the TV pen again and speak to written media. The top three finishers also do the post-race press conference.

Q: How much interaction is there between broadcasting teams from different countries?

A: A lot. They all see each other regularly so they get to know each other, and they often chat amongst themselves to communicate about what drivers have said to their home broadcasters, because they usually give longer/more detailed answers when they’re speaking in their native language.

Q: How does breaking news get shared with everyone?

A: Press releases used to be printed out on paper and handed out in the Media Center. Now each F1 team has a WhatsApp group specifically for media so they send info that way (e.g. about driver availability for interviews or problems with the cars) in addition to email and social media.

Q: Is there a dedicated space for journalists to write up their race reports?

A: Yes, it’s called the Media Center, there are desks, TV screens, food, and drinks (especially coffee!). The press conference room is in the Media Center as well, adjacent to the work area where journalists can sit and write.

Q: Has Bernie ever had a debrief delayed [when she was a team strategist] due to media interviews running long?

A: Many of the debriefs have been delayed by drivers, and blaming it on the media is an easy out when maybe it was actually the driver who stopped to get a coffee or whatever. Each F1 driver has their own press officer who helps them meet all of their press responsibilities. Often the drivers will talk longer than they are supposed to; Alex Albon and Oscar Piastri are specifically named as drivers who are very good at going off on tangents and talking to the media for too long. One time, Alex spent a good amount of time ranting about the roundabouts in Milton Keynes near the Red Bull factory is based.

Q: How is the order of the garages in the pit lane decided? Are there advantages to being in certain positions and does it play into race strategy?

A: At most tracks, the garages are in order based on how the teams finished in the constructor’s championship the previous year, so over a given season, the garages on either side of your teams don’t change. Sometimes the previous champions are right at the pit lane entry, sometimes near the exit, that depends on the track. If you’re right at the entry, it’s easier to come in and pit (i.e. there aren’t any other team’s mechanics in your way), but more difficult to get back out on track. Near the pit exit, the opposite is true (harder to get in, easier to get out). Depending on the track, it can be helpful to be right near the pit exit (e.g. if you want to get right out on track with clear air in front of you, Bernie mentions Monaco) or further back (e.g. if it’s better to have some other cars go first in qualifying, Bernie mentions Monza). The only exception to the rule of “garages are in order of last year’s championship standings” is Silverstone, where the pit lane is at about the same height as the track in the middle but at either end the pit lane is lower than the track so visibility is impaired. Because of this, the garages in the center (with a good view of the track) are considered most desirable and are thus taken by the top teams.

Christian Hewgill points out how surprising/impressive it is that drivers don’t pull into the wrong pit box more often. For example, at the 2011 Chinese Grand Prix, Jenson Button accidentally parked in the wrong garage and it cost him the lead in the race to Sebastian Vettel. Bernie points out that teams have done a lot of things to help drivers get to the correct pit lanes. It often happens when drivers switch teams (e.g. Lewis Hamilton once went into the McLaren pit when he had just moved to Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel went to the Ferrari pit once after he had switched to Aston Martin).

Q: What is parc fermé? What are the restrictions? How are they enforced?

A: Parc fermé is a period of time in which teams are not allowed to touch their cars or make any changes related to performance, however they can make changes related to safety. It promotes sustainability and rewards teams that do well in practice figuring out what works best for that track. During sprint weekends, teams only have one practice before the cars go into parc fermé, which makes it particularly difficult to adjust the cars to the track. Cars do often get taken apart and reassembled while in parc fermé to check components, clean things, etc., but the F1/FIA scrutineers will put stickers on the car parts to make sure the same parts are used when reassembling the car.

Q: What is an anti-stall? How is it different from a regular stall?

A: (Note that I am basically quoting Bernie verbatim here because I’ve never driven a manual/stick-shift car and don’t understand the details of how they work!) An anti-stall is very similar to a normal stall, but F1 have come up with clever ways to make sure the car engines don’t actually stall. In a regular manual car, if you were to let the clutch out too much or not give it enough throttle and the car stalled, the engine would cut out. At the starting grid, the driver might do the same thing (e.g. not give it enough throttle) and the car might stall, but the engine doesn’t actually cut out. (Another note: it’s not explicitly stated, but I think this is a safety thing so that even if the car stalls and doesn’t get a super fast start, the driver will be able to accelerate pretty quickly after, instead of sitting on the grid unable to move while the cars behind start crashing into the stalled car.)

Q: Why do F1 teams change names?

A: OK I started writing this in a way that makes sense beyond the short answers given on the podcast, but it really needs to be a separate post. The short answer to “why do teams change names?” is money. (Shocker!) 

Sometimes a team that also makes something else wants to promote one of their brands, e.g. Renault rebranding to Alpine, which is Renault’s sports car brand, or Toro Rosso rebranding to AlphaTauri, which is Red Bull’s clothing line. 

Sometimes a team will have a sponsor who pays enough money to be a title sponsor, e.g. Oracle Red Bull Racing or the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team, where Oracle and Petronas are completely separate companies that pay a lot of money in addition to providing relevant expertise to their teams. 

(In the other post, I’ll get into Sauber/Alfa Romeo/Stake/Kick, don’t worry. 😂)

Q: How is the number of laps in a Grand Prix determined?

A: The number of laps for a given circuit is however many laps are needed to get to a 305 km (~190 mi) race distance. The exception is Monaco where the distance is 260 km (~162 mi).

[its-avalon-08]

lando norrix x reader part4

part 4 guys <;3 themes- enemies to lovers flirty interactions female Formula1 driver

Chapter 4 - Laughter and Shadows

The post-race interviews buzzed with the usual whirlwind of questions and soundbites. Max, ever the stoic champion, dispensed his answers with practiced ease. Y/N, however, was a different story. Her playful banter with the reporters had the room in stitches, her genuine humor and quick wit disarming even the most jaded journalists.

"And Y/N," a reporter chimed, "that overtake on Leclerc for P2, absolutely textbook! Were you nervous at all?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, you know, just the usual pre-overtake existential crisis – should I go inside, outside, fake a pit stop? But then I remembered Charles probably wouldn't appreciate the pit maneuver in Monaco traffic, so inside it was!"

The room erupted in laughter, even Red Bull's resident stoic, Sergio Perez, cracking a smile. Y/N, unable to contain herself, burst into a fit of giggles, grabbing Checo's shoulder for balance. The gesture was casual, friendly, but to Lando, watching from the corner of the media pen, it felt like a branding iron searing his insides.

His jaw clenched, his fists bunched up under the interview table. The playful camaraderie between Y/N and Checo, the ease with which she touched him – it ignited a jealous rage within him that he couldn't explain. He knew Y/N and Checo were just teammates, colleagues, but the sight of them together twisted his gut with an emotion he couldn't name.

Max, meanwhile, watched the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. He'd noticed Lando's simmering jealousy before, but this… this was a different kind of anger, darker, more possessive. It sent a shiver down his spine, a disquieting premonition of the chaos that might ensue.

"Next question, please?" Y/N's voice cut through the silence, her smile back in place, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in Lando's heart.

The interviews resumed, a seemingly innocuous exchange of soundbites and predictions. But beneath the surface, a tension crackled, a silent battle being waged in the shadows of the paddock. Lando's eyes burned with a dark fire, his focus shifting from the interviewer to Y/N and Checo, his smile becoming a strained mask.

Max, sensing the growing animosity, exchanged a wary glance with Y/N. They both knew the season was far from over, and the battle on the track was only a part of the story. The real challenge, the true test, would be navigating the treacherous landscape of jealousy, ambition, and the simmering darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the media scrum dispersed, Max found Y/N alone, a thoughtful frown etched on her face. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile fading. "I don't know, Maxy," she admitted. "There's something about Lando… it's different this time. I feel like he's changed. And holy fuck, its a little hot, but I/m just confused, what did i do?"

Max nodded, a sudden understanding in his eyes. "He's jealous, Y/N," he said bluntly. "Jealous of Checo stealing your laughs, maybe even something more."

Y/N shivered, a cold unease settling in her stomach. "More?" she echoed.

Max didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. The laughter and lightheartedness of the interviews felt miles away, replaced by a chilling premonition of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. The battle for victory had just begun, and in this game, the stakes were higher than ever.

[ladylooch]

David's post game interview after Beau was born- can we please see that 🙏 😍

Following a Rangers win, David rolls his shoulders out as he pulls on a fresh shirt to hide his sweaty chest.

He usually goes shirtless for these interviews, but the industrial fans in the locker room are making him cooler than normal. He gets the fabric over his shoulders as he sees the media being escorted in. His name is on the board as someone who is getting interviewed, so he raises to his feet, ready for the circle to form around him.

"Congratulations." One of the beat writers, John, extends a hand to him. David shakes it. He likes this guy. "What did you have?"

"Ah, one sec..." David says, hands on his hips in a relaxed state. He waits for the Rangers media intern, Shannon, to get situated. She's shy as hell and struggling with the equipment. He doesn't want her to panic more than she already is. When she looks up at him with wide eyes and red cheeks, he gives her a reassuring smile. "You ready?"

"Yeah, sorry, David."

"All good. John, wanna ask that again?"

"Yeah. Congratulations on your new addition we heard about this morning from coach. What did you and your wife have?"

"Thank you. We had another boy. Beau. Mom and baby are doing well."

"Awesome, congratulations."

"What are your other kids names?" Someone else asks.

"Nico and Knox." David answers. It's common knowledge who the boys are at this point with him being in the spotlight. "Wife is Mackenzie." He fills in before the reporter can ask. Mack likes to be addressed by her full name in the media because it's attached to her professional writing career.

"When was he born?"

"This morning." David says generically. "We went in to get induced right away and mama is a champ. Got him here with us in a few hours. So we spent some time together, everything was going well, and now we're here."

"How hard is it to play in a game like this? Where emotions are running high both on and off the ice with the baby and the season the team has had? Knowing it's the last game for the year but maybe being pulled elsewhere mentally?"

"Ah, it's fine. I've been in this league for a long time. This is my third kid. Not to discount what it's like to become a dad again, because it's not about that, but you do get used to the process and needing to flip that switch. It was important for me to be both places today. Obviously with my wife and our son, but also with the guys here in this room. We have been through a lot this year, battled together and maybe it hasn't gone our way here at the end, but I wanted to be in this room to finish out the season together as a group like we have the whole way."

"Is Beau's middle name Connor in support of his uncle?"

"Nah. He wishes though."

"I do!" Connor chuckles from the stall beside David where his own media scrum is happening.

David looks expectantly at the group, waiting for another question.

"How does your preparation change for a game like this? You're at the hospital, outside of your routine. How does that impact how you feel when you step on the ice?"

"I don't think it changes how I play at all. It does change my routine, but for me, I've been in the league for so long now that I've learned how to adapt to the unexpected. Especially with already having two kids, my routine became a toss up from that first season of being a dad. It's just not about you anymore. I know some guys are strict with their routines and needing that Groundhog Day type structure, but I'm not like that. Comes from growing up on a farm too. You go into the day thinking one thing and come out doing another. I try to keep my routine and perspective flexible so things that deviate aren't game breakers for me."

"It must be nice to get to be home with Beau in this newborn stage with the team not in the playoffs?"

Yeah, to an extent, but David isn't going to say that.

"Honestly, no. It's disappointing to be standing here having this last game conversation knowing we aren't going to suit up tomorrow. This group has put in a ton of effort and it sucks to not see that effort turn into a playoff situation for us. We faced adversity this year and competed well with some of the best teams down the stretch, but in the end it wasn't enough to push us into a spot. We'll have a lot of time in the offseason to figure out how we get better as individuals, and collectively. Come September, everyone in this organization will be ready to do what it takes to get this team back to the post-season."

"How do you turn the page to next season? What is the right way forward for this group after such an adverse stretch of hockey?"

"Have the memory of a goldfish." David jokes. "I think the best thing we can do to start is get the mind off hockey. An 82 game season is such a grind in its self and we have guys who have been hurt in this room for over half the year. So heal, recover, do something else with life. For me, it's not gonna slow down at all. I'll be changing diapers and running after toddlers. Getting to redirect our energy onto other priorities is good for our collective healths and I am looking forward to that. But from a hockey standpoint, we will all have our exit interviews, get feedback from the coaching staff on what we need to do to compete at a higher level and come back in the Fall ready to execute a new plan with the same vision of getting back into the playoffs to compete for a Stanley Cup."

"Thanks, David."

"Thanks, David. Congrats again."

"Thanks all." David nods, then sits back down in his stall to peel his wrist tape off. Connor's media scrum continues to his left for several more minutes. When it ends, Connor checks his phone, chuckling.

"Damn, no doubt who's baby that is." Connor laughs, showing him the phone screen where Mack sent a picture of Beau to several family members with his name, birthday and his measurements. David smirks.

Yeah, him and Mack got another one who looks just like him.

If he didn't love it so much, he might feel a bit sorry for his wife.

[brumeraven]

🍂: Interview with a Boundless Candidate || dolls, boundless, creativity, transformations, saints, cute?, sorry to the confused

"Please state your name for the record."

"..."

"Nothing?"

"names are...well, they can't be self-assigned."

"Good catch. Sorry about the trick question, but you understand why we have to make you jump through all these hoops."

"it's fine."

"How long have you lived as a doll?"

"my whole life. or, well, maybe that's just how i've been treated."

"How you've been treated?"

"sorry, how this one has been treated."

"So the whole world treats you like a doll?"

"more or less, this one supposes."

"But how long has it been since you decided to just accept it? To stop fighting back and just give up your personhood?"

"it did not make the decision; this is...it's just the way it is. the way it's always been."

"Mm, fair. Dolls don't choose."

"dolls don't choose."

"And you believe that you'll be happier as a doll?"

"i...it has never really...understood the concept of happiness."

"You're unhappy being treated this way?"

"this one has never seen happiness as attainable."

"But you need this to feel comfortable?"

"no, not really."

"Then what exactly do you expect to get out of this?"

"congruence. alignment of expectations and reality."

"My point is, what do YOU want out of this? You, not the people around you."

"...this one does not want anything."

"Rather not say?"

"no."

"Well, let me take a stab at it. You just want to feel wanted. Want to be given worth, want to be a valued pet, a cherished possession, because you can't find any self-worth, so you need extrinsic reassurance your life has purpose and meaning."

"..."

"You're afraid of responsibility. Afraid of agency. Afraid of fucking up your own life any more than you already have. You'd rather a Witch, or even a human, fuck it up for you. At least it wouldn't be your fault, then; at least you could pretend you're worth shit."

"..."

"Well let me tell you something, kiddo; those are bad fucking reasons to throw away your humanity. Because, hate to break it to you, but you aren't worth shit just because someone likes you."

"it's not like that. not for this one."

"No? Then why don't you tell me what it is, hm?"

"it's just...well, efficient."

"Efficient?"

"i can't stand it. this one cannot stand it. it wastes so much time worrying about what to do, what not to do, prioritizing and tracking and deciding."

"You're looking for...what exactly?"

"this one has value; it is certain of it. it is capable of great things and has several useful skills. time management is not one of them. it's greatest fear is that it will waste its entire existence shaving yaks."

"Shaving...yaks?"

"it simply wishes to be able to work without the cruft of life getting in the way. without wasting its time worrying about what it should be doing at any given time."

"...So you want a manager, not a master."

"this one wants a scrum master."

"..."

Interviewer Comments: NOT THE WORST REASON I'VE HEARD

Verdict: ACCEPTED

~🍂

[tooneys-russo]

Do you write for Chloe kelly

Also Lauren hemp need more fics of them and loved the deyna one definitely need more fics of her

Hi Anon!

I have written a little something for Chloe Kelly, let me know if you like it and I can maybe write a part 2. I will get started on a Lauren Hemp one too

The Crossover We Needed

Women’s sport in England had been gaining traction and with both rugby and football becoming more and more popular the top players had become a perfect marketing option. Ridley was the Captain and the scrum half of the England rugby 7’s team, she had been asked to feature in an interview with one of the Lionesses. Chloe Kelly was incredibly excited to be the face of the Lionesses for this interview, she had seen the England 7’s team take home their very own European Championship, she was in the stands cheering them on with her family. But she couldn’t make it obvious to the girl that she was going to meet.

Chloe showed up in her Lionesses training gear, she looked over to see a 5ft10in brunette with dimples and green eyes standing there wearing a red tank top showing off her biceps and blue running shorts that exposed her toned legs. Chloe’s eyes raked over the girl as she walked over, Ridley looked over at Chloe and quickly checked her out, very impressed by the smaller girl’s muscle tone. “Hey I’m Ridley.” The taller girl held out her hand to shake Chloe’s. “Hi, I’m Chloe.” They shook hands, trying to pull away at the socially appropriate time. They stood next to each other as they were given a brief of how the day was going to go. Firstly they would do an interview together then do skills for each of the sports to see who would win the overall challenge. 

They sat across from each other as the producer handed them a stack of questions, Chloe read hers out first. “What football team did you follow as a kid?” Chloe looked up at the other girl’s face. “Um, I go for Manchester United actually.” Ridley let out a laugh and looked at the girl across from her. “Oh so you are a red?” Chloe raised her eyebrow. “Through and through.” Ridley had a small smirk. “Gross.” Chloe pretended to gag, Ridley laughed at her reaction. “Hey, at least I follow football. I was at Wembley when you scored that banger in the Euros, saw the celebration and everything.” Ridley smiled proudly. “Nothing better than someone with some appreciation for the world game.” Chloe smiled softly.

Riley was up next to ask a question. “Do you follow any rugby teams?” Chloe thought for a moment and smirked. “Saracens. They are my local team from when I was growing up. Pretty sure they are top of the ladder in the women’s too.” Ridley rolled her eyes. “We are one point behind with a game in hand. We could be top of the ladder after next weekend.” Ridley replied quickly. “Oh so Gloucester-Hartpury is going to win the league?” Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “We certainly could. When we do you have to come present the trophy I think while wearing one of our jerseys.” Ridley laughed.

“What is your favourite memory?” Chloe looked at Ridley intently. “Probably winning the European Championship in the Sevens for England. It was the first time I captained the country and being able to lead us to win was phenomenal. You?” Ridley smiled fondly at the memory. “Mine would definitely be the Euros win. Being able to score a goal that won us the whole thing was crazy, the most incredible thing I have ever done.” Chloe smiled wide. “One of the best sporting moments for the country I would say.” Ridley looked at the blonde across from her. “I think your Euros win was just as special, especially scoring two tries.” Chloe said softly. “You watched?” Ridley leant in slightly waiting for the answer. “Yeah, my family loves rugby almost as much as they love football. We all went to watch England completely dominate. Even better that it was a home tournament too.” Chloe relaxed as their conversation continued.

There was some casual flirting during the whole interview with both of the girls promising to catch up again the following week when they had a lunch event for England’s sporting elite. Chloe laughed at Ridley’s jokes and gently touched her arm, Ridley tried to hold back the massive grin and blush that was making its way up her neck to her face. Ridley returned the favour of making the other girl blush when she ran her fingers through her hair making her biceps flex, Chloe’s eyes locked on the muscle straining against the rugby player’s shirt. 

Once the interview portion was over they headed out to the field, on their way their conversation continued as did the flirting. Chloe gently bumped into Ridley when the taller girl teased her about the way she took penalties and the time she got hit in the face by Katie McCabe at a throw-in. “Oh my god shut up! I saw you get absolutely destroyed by the New Zealand Captain last year, you seemed too busy looking at some of the other girls.” Chloe laughed and this time it was Ridley’s turn to bump into Chloe. “Hey what can I say? Blondes seem to be my weakness.” She winked at the striker next to her as they got to the challenges.

The first game was a rugby passing drill, there were four targets lined up with four balls across from them, Chloe grabbed one of the balls and threw it to Ridley who caught it easily. “We should make this interesting. Want to make a bet?” Ridley looked at the blonde. “Sure. When I win, you have to give me your training shirt. If you somehow win, I will give you my shirt.” Chloe said confidently the two shook it and they both smirked at one another. Chloe tried to throw the first ball into the target and missed completely, she let out a groan and pouted after she missed the second one. Ridley smiled and handed Chloe another ball. “Just relax, try twisting your shoulders more rather than your hips. Nice and tight core.” Chloe listened closely and did what the girl was saying, she hit the target right in the centre on the last two shots. She jumped into the rugby player’s arms who spun her around cheering. “We might just be able to convert you into a rugby player.” The two laughed together and Chloe smacked Ridley’s arm gently. 

When it was Ridley’s turn Chloe just stared as the ball was thrown with minimal effort into the targets. Each movement had been practiced a million times and it definitely looked like it, the muscles flexed in her arms and Chloe was unable to do anything but watch. There was part of her that would have loved to know what else those muscles would be able to do to her, maybe even how they would go lifting her up and throwing her down on a bed. “Four from four, easy as you like.” Ridley’s voice snapped Chloe out of her trance. “Okay, show off. Now its time for football.”

The two walked over to four footballs set up for a crossbar challenge. “Let’s see how you go superstar.” Chloe smirked and stepped back for Ridley. The brunette looked at the crossbar then back at the footballs. “Oh man, haven’t kicked a ball in ages. Promise you won’t laugh.” Chloe nodded and motioned to the balls. “I promise. Now show me how to do it.” Ridley took a deep breath as she lined up for her first kick, it wasn’t the best but she was close to hitting the bar, she groaned and threw her head back setting up for the next ball. Her next two kicks were unsuccessful making the girl frustrated, on her last kick she glanced the crossbar and fist pumped. “Finally!” Ridley cheered and turned to the blonde who jumped on her in celebration. As Ridley put her down Chloe bit her lip as she stepped back. “Sorry just got swept up into it.” The striker said softly. “Don’t be.” Ridley stood back for Chloe’s turn. The striker made it look easy, she hit the ball so sweetly that it was hard for Riley not to stare at the girl in front of her. “Wow.” She said out loud as Chloe hit three of the four balls against the crossbar. “Now that was impressive. I think you win, you got more in rugby than I did in football. You easily win.” Ridley held out her hand which Chloe immediately shook. “Good game.” The two laughed as the video cut. 

They walked towards the changerooms to get into more casual clothes for the rest of the day. Ridley had no sooner walked in and her shirt was off exposing her abs and toned back along with her perfect arms. Chloe stared obscenely at the girl in front of her, she forgot to listen as Ridley held out her shirt to Chloe. “A bets a bet.” Chloe took the shirt from the scrum-half and swallowed hard. “Congratulations.” Ridley smirked knowing that the girl was struggling to focus. “Th-thanks.” Chloe finally choked out, Ridley pulled off her shorts and grabbed her jeans, sliding them on right in front of Chloe who was almost drooling. Ridley pulled on her oversized acid washed black shirt and a beanie. “You okay there Chloe?” Ridley walked closer to Chloe who was still standing in the middle of the room. “Yeah. Sorry. Just got distracted.” Chloe looked up at the taller girl. “By me?” Ridley moved a piece of hair from Chloe’s face as their eyes locked. “Maybe.” Chloe said and leant in to kiss Ridley, the rugby player closed the gap as their lips finally touched. Ridley wrapped her arms around Chloe’s waist and lifted her up as they kissed, she leant her against the locker door and deepened the kiss. The build up of tension during the day finally leading up to them getting what they wanted. Their makeout session was cut short by Chloe’s phone ringing, her agent was on the other end wanting to know if she was almost ready to leave, Ridley tried to distract her during the call kissing along the blonde’s neck. Chloe blushed and pushed Ridley away as the call ended. “You are a bad influence.” Chloe gently kissed Ridley and took off her shirt, it was the scrum-half’s turn to stare at Chloe as she got changed. Chloe put on a white crop top with some blue jeans. “I guess I will see you next week?” Chloe looked down, Ridley handed her a phone. “Can I maybe get your number?” Ridley asked somewhat nervously. Chloe smiled wide and put her number in Ridley phone, locking eyes as she handed it back. “I will see you next week.” Chloe kissed her cheek gently as she left. 

Over the week the two were texting most of the day, sending some pictures of what they were up to during the day. The day of the sport lunch Ridley took her time getting ready, putting on a navy blue suit with no shirt underneath relying on the jacket to stay where it was so she didn’t flash everyone around. Ridley walked into the large function room, looking around for anyone familiar. Chloe spotted the rugby player immediately, she walked over and touched her lower back. “Hi.” She said softly, making Ridley turn around. “Holy shit.” Ridley blurted out as she saw Chloe in a low cut red dress that finished above her knee, Ridley’s eyes stopped right at the striker’s chest. “Eyes are up here Ridley.” Chloe stepped closer and lifted Ridley’s chin so they were looking in each other’s eyes. “You look phenomenal yourself.” Chloe tugged gently at Ridley’s suit jacket covering what Chloe wanted to see. “Thank you gorgeous.” Ridley kissed Chloe’s cheek and put her hand on her lower back. “Are we sitting together?” Ridley asked as she looked around. “No sorry, I am on the football table and I think you are with rugby. Come see me after?” Chloe grabbed Ridley’s hand, getting her focus back. “Yeah I will come get you.” Ridley kissed Chloe’s hand as they both walked over to their tables. 

During the lunch, Ridley kept looking over at Chloe, causing some of her teammates to give her some light teasing as she stared at the blonde. Chloe received the same treatment as she glanced over at the brunette. “Who is that?” Georgia asked, motioning to Ridley. “That is Ridley, she is the captain of the England rugby team.” Chloe couldn’t help but blush as she mentioned the girl. “Well, she is certainly interested in you Chloe. She’s very pretty.” Georgia smirked, Chloe snapped at Georgia. “Yeah I know she is. Stop looking over at her.” Chloe turned back to look over at Ridley, who was looking back at her slightly concerned. Chloe gave a small smile and walked towards the bathroom, Ridley rushed to follow behind her. As soon as they were in the bathroom Ridley grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Hey you okay?” Chloe nodded and kept looking down. “Georgia said you were pretty and I just kind of cracked it.” Ridley blushed and put her hands on Chloe’s hips. “I am only looking at you.” Ridley leant in and kissed Chloe gently, leading her against the sink, the blonde wrapped her arms around Ridley’s neck and pulled her as close as possible. “After this, come around to my place its only ten minutes away. We can hang out and I will make you dinner.” Ridley offered softly. “A date?” Chloe asked hopefully. “Yes of course. I wanted to ask you out last week but didn’t want you to think I was going too fast.” Ridley blushed. “What after we made out?” Chloe laughed and Ridley blushed more. “Maybe.” Chloe kissed Ridley again and smiled. “As soon as this thing finishes, I am dragging you out of here.” Chloe smiled looking at the taller girl. “We should go back to our tables before people thing we are having sex in here.” Ridley said softly and they begrudgingly rejoined their tables.

[omegawhiskers]

Survivor Series 2023

I was wrong...

When the copyright logo popped up on the bottom right corner to close out Survivor Series, I thought that was it, but it wasn't. Chicago's own, CM Punk made his WWE return after nine years. I have mixed emotions about his return.

Punk made his return to professional wrestling in 2021 for All Elite Wrestling. It was magical. Seeing Punk back in a wrestling ring was a moment I'll never forget because I never thought I'd see it. He even gave out the ice-cream bars he wanted so badly during his WWE run. Punk looked happy, I know I was. Then came the media scrum. This was embarrassing to watch. The unprofessionalism from Punk was through the roof. He threw the EVP's under bus, while insulting Adam Page. He dragged the company through the mud, while Tony Khan sat there looking defeated. Punk said he ''didn't approach it in the right manner" in an interview, but it was too late, the damage was done. The Young Bucks and Kenny Omega were suspended and the first trios champions had to vacate titles. While Punk was suspended, he was also injured, so he didn't matter if he was going to miss TV anyway. I also blame Khan not putting a stop to the media scum once Punk started going off. He should of shut Punk down and sent him home. Instead, Punk got his own show, Collision.

Collision could only have certain talent on it. No way were the Bucks, Omega or Page allowed on this show. Apparently Cristopher Daniels, Matt Hardy and Ryan Nemeth were turned away. I hated all of this. During his time off to rehab his injury, Punk showed up at WWE, but had to leave shortly after. It seemed like Punk knew his time was going to be short in AEW.

Punk would get into another altercation, but this time with Jack Perry at All In 2023. This was another disgraceful moment for CM Punk. This led him to being fired as Khan said he feared for his life. I don't feel like AEW quite recovered since the media scrum. Khan did not handle Punk well, so a lot of the blame goes to him, but Punk is the veteran here. He should of known better. Look at Sting, a veteran whose caused zero issues during his time in AEW. Sting come across as a humble and grateful individual.

When Punk was fired WWE, I thought there was no way he was going back. For weeks I heard CM Punk chants, and I honestly found them frustrating and pointless. But I was wrong. They weren't pointless. The fans that hoped and said that he would return were right. As bad as Punk's time in AEW was, he's history with WWE looked worse. He was never given the chance he deserved in the company for a long time. He never got that WrestleMania main event. He almost died due to a MRSA staph infection that was mismanaged thanks to a WWE doctor, and let's not forget that he was fired on his wedding day. So to see him last night was a shocker. I can't say I'm excited due to the mans history, but I'm interested in the plan going forward. How does it effect storylines going forward? Have plans now changed? Who will Punk face first? How does his return effect the dynamic in the locker room? So many unanswered questions.

Let's jump into the first match. It was the women's WarGames. This match never got boring. It worked at a nice pace. There were some high risk moves, but everyone came out safe. I thought Shotzi was going to die when she used a chair to leap off of and almost landed head/neck on it. Iyo Skye stood on top of the cage and put a bin over her and leapt off. I loved that spot. Charlotte Flair also did backflip off the top cage and almost landed directly on her feet. The tension between Becky Lynch and Charlotte got resolved as they worked together. The babyfaces won when Bayley took the pin. There were two moments during this match when Bayley stepped into save her teammates, but I have a feeling she will get the blame for being pinned. Bayley has been a heel for four years now, so it's time to mix it up. Overall, this was a pretty good match.

Gunther and The Miz had a way better match than I expected. At one point I thought Miz had it won when he delivered a low blow and skull crushing finale to Gunther, who kicked out. The Miz lost here and that was a good thing. As mentioned, I want to see Miz go through a bad patch after this. Change his character up. Have him scratch and claw his way back.

Santos Escobar has an exciting bout with Dragon Lee. Santos won clean, but he needed to look strong as he has just gone solo. Lee looked great and he is still new enough to the WWE, so the loss isn't major.

Zoey Stark and Rhea Ripley had decent match. Stark lost, and she still needs more time to develop, but I think she's got something special about her.

The men's WarGames didn't pull me in like I thought it would. Maybe having two WarGames matches in one night is not the best idea as it takes away some of the magic of the match. I didn't think anyone slacked or did a bad job, it just didn't excite me. Although, Randy Orton's return did get me invested. Orton looked great as he packed on some muscle. The babyfaces won the match and CM Punk returned to eye up the competition in the ring.

This was a solid PLE, even tough it was obvious Gunther, Ripley and Santos were going over. I don't know what the fall out for the men and women of the WarGames matches will be, but having Bayley turn face would in interesting. With Punk watching on after the men's match, we have some stuff cooking for the Royal Rumble.

[moonshynecybin]

REPORTER MARC AU???? ohhh it's so good. marc maybe never having met vale. or maybe only as a child. writing almost mythical articles about him. vale who he always wanted to be but failed. they see each other in a debrief and the TENSION is thick and they fuck obv (hero worship + vale has read all his hero worship) but then sepang 2015 happens (um. vale takes something marc wrote as a slight and openly slanders him + ruins his reputation?? not sure). and marc of course still has to write abt vale bc it's his job but. now there's a sharp undercurrent of bitterness? he knows him so well he knows how to get under his skin. and of course vale HATES being known by the media he is always putting on a mask but. marc knows him.

so crazy… and like i think, here the tension isn’t derived from racing competition it’s derived from vale’s insane relationship to fame and the media. like him putting up so much of a mask only for a member of the PRESS to be the one who can see right through him… marc coping with a lot of weird wistful feeling about not being able to ride… career ending too soon but also being JUST like vale concerning competition so he has insane insight… and vale wanting to be vulnerable with marc but being categorically unable to because he’s a JOURNALIST. forgetting himself and then self policing about it…

like. okay so marc has to stop racing sometime in his teens due to (unintelligible health reasons) so he straps on his psycho ambitious little intensely practical brain and goes okay. i will become the best racing journalist to ever live. he understands how to ride he understands the mindset he WAS going to be the next valentino rossi and now well. at least he can interview him. so marc gets a press pass and immediately rocks up to the paddock and uh. charms vale a little. hot smart but not a competitive threat. vale likes him ! marc’s questions aren’t stupid but ARE fun so vale plays ball… and they become sort of friends and flirt a little through the first years… BIG tell all interview at the end of marc’s first season that gives him SO much more credibility as a journalist… like they never quite make a move on each other because vale will NOT risk any sort of gay affair involvement with a JOURNO but they are in love. like obviously. making eye contact with each other in presscons it’s very sweet. everytime marc drops a piece everyone is like wow this is the best and most revealing vale interview in years :) and eventually, vale is like. uh oh ! oh no ! like he did not mean to share his secrets to this twink reporter he just. love his ass unfortunately

and maybe after that they fuck ONCE . just to “get it out of his system” and then it DOESNT go away and vale freaks out. pulls away goes cold clams up in press scrums… but all the while marc’s low empathy career obsessed ass writing such beautiful articles about vale (and so horny lbr). and they’re SO intimate and comfortable and frankly getting a little too close to the beating lurid heart of him… marc is seeing. he is perceiving. he is spinning it out onto the page beautifully because that is his JOB… and after they fuck and there little too much wanting on both sides. and vale shuts him out HARD. but marc (now heartbroken. framed photo of vale and him on his first day with press access in his office) is still writing those insane articles… pissed that vale is fucking with his career so he’s going even HARDER now… and vale hates being seen but also can’t get over that marc sees him. that he understands him. insane emotional experience… like what if you wanted to be seen so badly but also we’re so so scared of it when it actually happens because of your fame trauma….

[lunarsilkscreen]

How to Run a Game Development Company

Notice I'm talking about this from a perspective that "I need to start from scratch" so I'm not trying to criticize any established company.

If it *sounds* like a criticism; then that's on the reader.

A company needs a few departments for its own protection after hitting a certain size; including a Lawyer, Human Resources, and a Treasurer.

That's only after you're able to grow a certain size; unfortunately you'll need to pay retainer to a lawyer until you reach that size.

As a small business owner; Id need to understand H.R., Budgeting, Investment, and since my preferred job is Game Developer/Designer, I also need rudimentary knowledge of music, art, writing, audio recording, and marketing.

Many Hats.

If you have enough revenue/budget; somebody in this position will start researching workflows. And probably settle on "Scrum" because it seems pretty good.

With a tiny budget; instead of hiring people to work under me, I'd be trying to hire somebody who *knows* better than me in the software department and the art department.

(that is a criticism)

That's were it would start getting unwieldy, because how would you be able to guarantee they knew what they were doing and aren't just good at answering the quote "Google Interview Questions"?

Fortunately, I really am an expert with most of those hats. So what I can do instead;

Is take the "Lead Programmer" hat. What does the lead programmer need to do?

Well, one advantage I have is knowing UML and software design. So I can put together the blue prints, and hire on programmer-interns to do the rudimentary programming to follow the blueprint.

And then I can review the code with them to see where issues might lay, give on-the-fly criticism, and help them get on my level.

This same system is the same for the "art" department. One entry level Modeler is enough. We just need to keep the assets minimal.

A requirement at this level between employees would be to step in where the project is falling behind it there isn't anything to do for your assigned hat.

My hat being all the hats, I step in where needed.

As one product is finished, we hopefully start getting more revenue. And now we can afford a marketer and somebody to do a lot of the footwork that I'd otherwise be doing.

Provided these employees wish to stay here; they become section leaders. They take on a lot of the responsibilities I was taking in *all* departments.

And so the company can keep growing. Provided the revenue supports it.

You only need one person that knows everything on your wish list and just need to sit in and give input after that.

If that starts affording me extra free time; I can work on side projects, starting from scratch essentially, but with the support of the full company around me.

What I don't know; is the dangers that come from a company that grows past that point. I don't really want a company that is bigger than that. So I don't know how to protect the company as a whole after that.

I just know how to use the resources to support growth.

The next department to be created is the core quality control; common frameworks and libraries for reuse. Which will help streamline development and supporting small projects and small intern-ish groups (strike forces) that don't need to start from scratch.

And thus I can offer those strike forces their IP at a cost of some of the short-term profits and allowing them to start their own companies.

Which would allows us to keep operating, and keeping the company smallish and prevent growing to big that it's hard to protect to level I want.

Plus it won't be the same as just *firing* employees.

As they would have their own established resources revenue, and IP. That the "heart company" wouldn't have rights or control over.

Thus, giving us reputation and other opportunities in consulting.

The next problem we might face after that is in over-saturation of the market, and also funding our own competition.

Well, worst case scenario, I would have enough cash at that point to start over if I want, since all I really wanna do is tinker around with software.

[dalekofchaos]

WWE and AEW need to STOP doing press conferences/media scrums.

Look, it's very simple. If you only allow softball questions and only want to talk about "the positive work we did tonight" then you shouldn't have these media events.

Tony Khan dressed up like a clown when someone asked about the Chris Jericho NDA situation and he completely blew them off. Don't forget those "I just can't talk about it" interviews.

HHH pulled a Tony Khan when it came to the Vince questions(while Cody responded SO MUCH BETTER than the man in charge), did the same fucking thing with Gulak and apparently at the latest Press conference he was asked about the Tiffany Stratton/Jade Cargill ordeal

You need to be willing to accept the hard questions from CREDIBLE JOURNALISTS and not the "wrestling journalists" who just suck up to WWE and Tony Khan.

Do better!