#i love writing self indulgent shit that only makes sense to me

[moe-broey]

Oh. Huh.

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[imaginespazzi]

Part 6: Leaps of Faith

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling (you put your arms around me and I'm home)

(In which a writer who can see the end approaching starts building towards that ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. Happy Sunday and Happy Mothers day! First of all, I wanna thank y'all for being ever so patient with me. I know I've been pretty bad about updating lately and y'all have been so sweet with your asks and I really appreciate it. This fic is very close to its end. I probably could have ended it with this chapter but there's a very specific ending I want to write so this one is more of a self-indulgent filler but I think y'all will like this one. There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Once again, there are most likely logistical inaccuracies. I'm not even gonna lie, the editing on this one is shoddy so there are definitely grammar errors/typos. For now, ignore them and I'll go fix them later. As always, even if we're near the end, feel free let me know what you liked, what you didn't and anything you'd like to see before we get to the end. Have a wonderful week my angels <3

April 2024 

“It’s a little early for ice cream hon,” Azzi jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, startled eyes following the direction of the noise to find Katie leaning against the kitchen door, with a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s a little early to scare the living bejesus out of me mom,” she says with a hand to her chest. 

If possible, Katie’s eyes roll even further at her daughter’s sarcastic tone as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter. She’s gotten herself a spoon and everything, ready to steal some ice cream for herself, when she notices the flavour. Next to her, Azzi stiffens. 

“You hate mint chocolate chip Az,” Katie says quietly. 

“I couldn’t find the strawberry ice cream,” Azzi defends stubbornly, her face taking on a guarded expression. 

Katie walks over to the freezer, opening it and pointing at the strawberry ice cream, Azzi’s favourite, that’s sitting in plain sight, “it’s right there.”

“Well,” Azzi splutters, “I’m trying something new,”. 

“You hate trying new things.”

“I’ve grown up I guess.”

“Azzi.”

“Mom.”

“Azzi, why are you eating ice cream you hate at 4 in the morning?” Katie finally asks in her best mom voice, sighing when she gets a mumbled response from her daughter, “in words Az, please.”

“Paige likes it,” Azzi admits slowly, and before Katie can say anything, before Azzi can dwell on what she’s said, she launches into a rant, “god knows why. Actually I know why because she’s stupid and weird and likes the dumbest shit. Who the fuck likes mint? Who the fuck likes mint and chocolate together? Gross. This shit is disgusting. It tastes all wrong. Paige is just-,” Azzi throws her hands up in the air, “she just doesn’t understand that some things don’t belong together. They can’t. They’re too different and it just- there’s a fucking balance to things you know? And she just- she doesn’t get that. It’s just- it’s not meant to be.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re eating it right now,” Katie says carefully. 

“Because I miss her,” the truth bursts out of Azzi like an erupting volcano, burning itself into every crevice of her skin, “because for some fucking reason I don’t hate the taste of mint chocolate chip. Because maybe they do go together and maybe I’ve been the stupid one this whole time.”

Since she’d stepped out of the hotel in Cleveland, all Azzi could think about was going back, saying fuck it to all the useless logic she’d come up with and going back to the only thing in her life that had ever made sense her Paige. But as it often did in that clichéd battle between head and heart, her head had won out. And she’s never questioned why her head wins so much, why she’s always chosen to listen to the practical side of her brain, until now. Until now when the urge to turn back time, to make herself stay in that hotel room, is all that’s consumed her for the last week. 

“Azzi,” Katie wraps her arms around the younger girl, “what happened with you and Paige?”

Azzi hesitates for a second and then everything’s spilling out of her lips, the good, the bad, the inbetween, all of it tumbles out like an uncontrollable waterfall. There’s something freeing about being able to say it all out loud, something freeing about the tears Azzi finally lets roll down her cheeks. She grips the edge of the counter to keep herself from keeling over, starting to feel herself crumble under the heaviness of all these stupid feelings. 

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Azzi whispers, “we used to be so easy.”

“Oh Az,” Katie rubs a thumb against her daughter’s cheek, “you used to be kids. You’re all grown up now. It’s always harder when you’re older.”

“Well, I don’t like it. I just want to be the way we were again.”

“So why don’t you?” Katie asks like it’s the most simple solution in the world and Azzi shoots her mother an exasperated look. 

“What do you mean? How do we even do that? We can’t be just friends again. We tried. Were you not listening at all?”

“Azzi, sweetheart, you’ve never been just friends.”

“That’s not true,” it’s a futile attempt at arguing against what’s become more of a fact than an opinion in Azzi’s life. It’s a truth she’d let herself acknowledge once and then buried deep within her, scared that once unleashed, it would ruin everything. Except, it turns out, even without it, things had still turned to dust.  

“Do you remember when you came home from Minnesota that first summer with Paige? You were either moping around or you were on call with her. There was no in between. It got better eventually, the moping stopped but the calls? I think you fell asleep on facetime with her almost every night. And you were tired every morning after, you barely had time to eat before school but every time I suggested that maybe you cut back, that was never an option,” Katie smiles fondly, “it’s when I knew.”

Azzi does remember, remembers talking about everything and nothing, remembers laughing and crying, remembers when Paige’s breathing was the only lullaby that could relax her into sleeping. And she remembers battling with that voice in her head, the one convinced there’s something more, silencing it with I’d do this with anyone. But that wasn’t true then and it’s not true now because Paige has never been just anyone, never been just a friend. Because even if Azzi’s never been brave enough to say it out loud, Paige is and has always been everything.

Despite knowing the answer and maybe dreading it just a little bit, Azzi asks it to her mom anyway, “what did you know?”

“That she was your person. You were too young, I couldn’t call it love just yet but I knew Paige was different then, she was yours in a way none of your other friends were. You were different around her,” Katie nudges her daughter, “Azzi you’ve always been just a little bit in love with her and she’s always been just a little bit in love with you too. The two of you have just been a matter of time.”

Azzi closes her eyes, and unlike other people, she doesn’t see darkness or little spots of light, she just sees Paige. Her mother’s words wash over her, like acid in her self-inflicted fight the feelings wounds and yet, the idea of she’s loved me too feels like a band-aid being delicately placed on the scars of her heart. 

“And place,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “we never seem to get time and place right.”

“Why do you need to?”

Another exasperated look is sent Katie’s way at that question, “we live on different sides of the country mom, what do you mean why do we need to?”

“I mean the two of you have barely ever been in the same place. But you made it work, when you had even less, when you felt even less. But you’re adults now. You have other resources now. And I know timing is difficult but- it’s you and Paige. What are you so scared of Azzi?”

Azzi sucks in a deep breath, “what if Paige runs away again?”

“What if you run away again?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Who was the last person to walk away, Azzi?,” Katie sighs when Azzi is adamantly silent, “I know she hurt you by leaving. I know she hurt you by pushing you away. But you did the same thing. You chose UCLA,” Katie holds up a hand when a frustrated Azzi tries to interrupt, “and it was the right decision for you Azzi and she should have supported it. But that doesn’t meant you didn’t hurt her and then you chose Zoe-”

“I didn’t choose Zoe-”

“Yes you did Azzi. Sweetheart you’re my daughter and I will always tell you the complete truth even if it’s not what you wanna hear. And the truth Azzi is that Paige might have hurt you in 101 different ways but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt her back in 99 different ways too.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Azzi whispers, “that’s the problem mom. It hurts when she hurts me but it hurts even more when I hurt her. I don’t want that for us but I just- I just don’t know how to stop it without stopping us.”

“You haven’t even tried, baby. Paige held out a hand and you ran away.”

“She left first. How am I supposed to trust that she won’t just do that again," all that’s missing from Azzi’s stubborn whine is a foot stomp.

“Because she came back. It took her a little bit, I know, but she came back and she’s ready to fight, the question is, are you?”

“Why are you defending her?” Azzi splutters, “who’s side are you even on?”

“There are no sides to this sweetheart. The two of you are on the same side. So maybe instead of fighting against her, take that hand, fight with her.”

***

The WNBA draft is a momentous occasion this year. With a hyped draft class like no other, and the promise of even greater ones in the future, there’s a sense of celebratory hope dangling in the air. When the invite had first come in, Azzi had known the same one would be sent to a certain blonde in Connecticut as well. And a part of her had wanted to hide herself away from that possible collision, but every other part of her wanted nothing more than to get just a glimpse of the blonde.

One moment Azzi is surrounded by flashing cameras and the echo of her name on everyone’s lips, the next everything around her is fading away her eyes meet Paige’s on the other end of the WNBA draft orange carpet. It’s nothing new really. Since she’s met her, the blonde has commandeered all of Azzi’s attention whenever she’s nearby. Sometimes it feels like all of her other five senses fade away to give birth to a secret sixth one, one that’s solely dedicated to Paige, one that’s terrifyingly all-consuming. And yet, despite the heaviness of we’ve said too many goodbyes, for the first time in what feels like eternity, Azzi feels like she can finally breathe. 

And then Paige looks away. 

And Azzi’s back to struggling for air. 

It’s selfish of her, she knows, to expect something, not when she’d been the one to leave them stranded on different islands. But Azzi doesn’t seem to think logically when it comes to Paige and even as she tries to turn her focus back to posing for the camera, every inch of her body is dangerously aware of the blonde’s every move, just a mere few feet away from her. Her conversation with her mother is echoing in her head, giving rise to dangerous desires of what if i grabbed your hand and we ran away together. 

Paige is a natural on the orange carpet, all dazzling smiles and twinkling eyes. She glides through it, inching closer and closer to Azzi, but never giving away any sense of discomfort. And if it was anybody else, maybe they’d never catch onto the nerves hidden beneath Paige’s facade of calm, cool and collected. But once upon a time Paige used to be Azzi’s favourite puzzle and she has every part of the blonde committed to memory. It’s in the way Paige’s teeth gnaw at her lips for the briefest of seconds, in the way her right index finger is begging to tap a beat against where her hands rests on hips, in the way she’s blinking just one too many times. 

And then with one more heavy footed step from Paige, the distance between them is barely a couple inches and they let out identical breaths of air, both of them keeping their focus on the cameras in front of them. It’s loud, too loud, and still all Azzi can focus on is the sound of Paige breathing. The air around them is thick with tension. It feels a bit like they’re silhouetted against a sky made of words they’ve left unsaid and clouds of all the bitter mistakes they’ve made are hanging over their heads. And when their pinkies brush together, and a jolt of electricity sends shivers of I miss you more every day again her skin, Azzi questions if she’s ever made the right decision when it comes to Paige. 

“Wait wait wait,” Ari cuts in, as she squeezes herself in between the two of them, “I wanna get in between the two of you.”

A harsh cry of no sits heavily on the top of Azzi’s tongue as the older woman forces a break in whatever little bit of contact she’d had with Paige. She feels a little pathetic, the way every little inch of her skin is craving for that touch back. It had been nothing, a barely there moment and still Azzi thinks, when she goes to bed tonight, if that was all she’d get of Paige, then it’ll be the only thing that’ll feature in her dreams. 

“Alright one with just Paige and Azzi,” Ari directs the media, stepping out of the way and pushing the two younger girls together. And it’s laughable that a little brush of their pinkies had Azzi feeling any type of way because when they’re suddenly pressed together, every inch of Paige’s side fitting into Azzi’s like it belongs, the way the world suddenly bursts with light and colours makes Azzi wonder if every moment without Paige has simply been monochrome. 

It comes to them naturally how to pose together, arms winding around each other’s waist, heads involuntarily leaning against the other’s. And the smiles might be for the cameras but Azzi knows hers is the most real it’s been all night. It might be temporary, she might lose Paige in the chaos, but for now Paige is here and Azzi has learned how to be content with whatever little she can get. 

As the media moves to capture other people, the logical thing to do would be to separate, to let go of each other. But instead they stand there, still completely wrapped around each other, heart rates in sync as they breathe in each other’s presence. And then Paige’s hand falls from the small of Azzi’s back to tangle their fingers together and they let out identical sighs of relief, something so cathartic in the purposefulness of that touch. Everyone is too busy to notice that the two of them have fallen into a whole other world, one where there’s only two of them and every emotion that they’ve only reserved for the other. There’s no words exchanged as Paige guides the two of them out of the spotlight, somehow keeping their hands clasped together in secret, despite the ever growing crowd. And Azzi doesn’t know this building at all, doesn’t have the faintest clue where she’s being led to, but as long as it’s Paige pulling her along, she doesn’t care where, she thinks she’d go anywhere. 

Paige stops abruptly in a secluded corridor, turning to fully face Azzi. And the sincerity in the blonde’s crystalline blue eyes, as they roam every inch of Azzi’s body before coming to fixate on her face, steals the air away from Azzi’s lungs. Paige has gotten better over the years at building walls, but with every new lock she places on her emotions, there’s a key to open them that seems to always find its way to Azzi. In the delicate golden hue, Paige shines brighter than any star ever could and in the dim light Azzi can make out every bit of hurt and love and please can we just have this moment that Paige can’t put into words. 

“Hi,” Azzi whispers softly, hands itching to reach out and caress Paige’s skin. 

“Hi,” Paige says back, even quieter. She stares at Azzi as if she’s memorising every little detail and then her face crumbles. Azzi feels her heart drop at the single tear that trickles down Paige’s cheek as she lets out a broken whimper. And this, this unspoken power they seem to have over each other, the uncanny ability to just hurt each other without any bit of effort, is what scares Azzi the most. It’s too much. They shouldn’t be able to do this. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s fingers twitch but she hesitates, not knowing if it’s the right thing, “fuck- P what’s wrong?”

Paige doesn’t reply, eyes wandering down to where Azzi’s trying to keep her hands still against her sides and when she looks back up, her eyes are bloodshot, “what’s wrong? What’s not wrong Azzi? You won’t even fucking touch me.”

“I didn’t-” Azzi struggles to speak, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Can you just- fuck- can you just stop overthinking things for once in your life. Of course I want you to touch- you know what nevermind. This was a bad idea. You made yourself clear and I’m just- fuck- I should- I should just go.”

She sounds adamant enough but all it takes, when Paige moves to leave, is the strangled cry that leaves Azzi’s lips. The sound is enough to pull Paige right back in. She takes one look at the tears brimming in Azzi’s eyes. And then she’s pushing Azzi against a wall, hands on either side caging the younger girl between her body and the hard surface behind. She presses their foreheads together and Azzi feels like every part of her might just be a part of Paige too. 

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It’s barely been two weeks and I- fuck- Azzi- I’ve missed you every single second and now you’re here and I still miss you. And it really fucking hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, finally letting her hands cup Paige’s cheeks, and it’s worth it for the way Paige seems to completely melt into her touch, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing but- I don’t know- I feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing when it comes to you. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let me be with you,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with desperation as she presses herself as close to Azzi as possible, “I’ll be your whatever- whatever you give me- whatever you want- I just- I just want you Az- whatever little bit you’re willing to give me- I’ll take it- and if you want me to wait- fuck Azzi- I’d wait forever- you know that right? However long it takes, baby. Just want you- just want us.”

Leaps of faith are scary. Azzi’s never been great at taking them, too cautious, too much of a worrier. She’s more of a step back from the cliff kind of person. If she doesn’t jump, she can’t fall. But here’s the thing, when she was fourteen, Azzi jumped off of her first hypothetical cliff. It had been on a plane, when after avoiding one too many deep questions, Azzi had admitted to a girl she barely knew,that maybe she could like girls. It was the first time she’d ever let herself acknowledge that truth about herself and the girl next to her was a stranger but there was something about her, something that screamed i’ll hold your hand and if you jump it’ll never be alone. And ever since then, that girl, Paige, has always been there. Hands outstretched, ready to jump off any ledge. Because if there’s hard ground underneath, then they’ll learn how to fly together and if there’s water, they’ll figure out how to swim. With Paige there has always been the promise that, whatever it is, they’ll figure it out together. And it’s with that promise in mind, that Azzi takes the leap of faith. 

“Me too,” Azzi whispers, heart beating erratically. 

“What?” Paige searches Azzi’s face, as if waiting for her to take it back. 

“Us. You. You and me. I want that too,” a ghost of a smile begins to creep onto Azzi’s face, and for the first time in god knows how long, she feels feather light, a little bit like she’s floating on a rainbow. 

“You mean it?” Paige asks earnestly, hands moving from the wall to clutch at Azzi’s waist, “don’t play-Azzi- okay- you mean it for real?”

“I do. I want this- I want this so much and I’m still- I’m still really scared and maybe it’ll be a disaster but I- I want to try. With you.”

Azzi used to think she knew all of Paige’s smiles. Her small, not quite fake, but only for cameras and people she didn’t quite know, smiles. Her just for my friends smile that was filled with mirth and childlike joy. Her basketball smile that transformed into a smirk when she got too cocky. Her only for Drew smile, soft and filled with so much adoration and pride. Her Azzi smile, the one only the brown-skinned girl gets to experience, a smile that made Azzi’s her heart swell with love. But the smile that stretches across Paige’s face now, is one Azzi’s never seen before. This one throws Azzi’s entire world of balance, so bright, so big, so full of emotions. If she could, she’d tattoo that smile onto her skin forever. 

“We’re really doing this?” Paige asks, still a little stunned. It wasn’t what Azzi had planned for tonight. She hadn’t really had any plans for what would really happen. But then Paige had walked in and all Azzi could see was forever she was tired of fighting against. 

“We should take it slow okay-” Azzi wraps her arms around the older girl’s neck, keeping their foreheads still against each other’s, “I don’t- I don’t wanna rush into things and fuck it up. I can’t- fuck- I can’t lose y-”

“You won’t,” Paige swears, squeezing at Azzi’s wait, “I won’t let you. We can take it slow. We can take it however you want- I just- we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,” Azzi can’t help the grin that fills up her entire face, “yeah we’re doing this.”

And as they surge forward to claim each other’s lips, and as they meld every inch of themselves into each other, and as they smile and cry into the kiss simultaneously, and as they etch promises into each other skin, and as they let themselves finally fall into each other, for each other, it feels a lot like coming home. 

***

July 2024 

The early morning sunlight casts a dark shadow across Paige’s face, causing the still asleep blonde to scrunch up her face in irritation. Azzi, who’s been awake for nearly half an hour now, can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto her own lips. She shifts herself to block the sun and Paige lets out a content sigh, burrowing herself further into her pillows. And the thing is every moment with Paige is special but there’s something about waking up to her in the morning. Azzi’s always awake first and it gives her ample time to just admire the girl in her arms, blond hair tousled all over her pillow, lips parted slightly open, and one arm always, always, splayed across Azzi’s torso, holding her close. Over the course of time, Azzi’s found out that the second she moves, Paige seems to feel her leave, waking up instantly. 

There had been an adjustment period if Azzi's honest. It had taken her a while to shake that fear of Paige not being there in the morning. The first morning, she’d been scared to open her eyes, even if she could feel Paige’s presence right next to her. That had been one of the few mornings that Paige was fully awake first, hovering above Azzi to wake her up. And when she finally did get the courage to open her eyes, the first thing Azzi had seen was Paige, blue eyes sparkling with unfiltered adoration, a smile filled with promises of every morning just like this. And that had been enough. 

Azzi reaches out to brush a hand through Paige’s soft blond hair, mesmerised by how pretty Paige looks in the morning glow. A lot of Paige belongs to the world now and Azzi’s not opposed to sharing really, because someone so fucking perfect, deserves to be celebrated like that. But there are some parts of Paige that belong to Azzi and Azzi only, some parts Azzi cherishes as being only hers. This is one of them and Azzi takes a snapshot of it, knowing she’ll need it to function in a few months, when she won’t get the real thing. 

“Are you watching Paige sleep?” Azzi almost jumps at the sound of Drew’s voice at the doorway, having been too immersed in Paige to have even heard the door open, “that’s kinda creepy Azzi.”

“Jesus Drew, whatever happened to knocking?”

“I forgot?” Drew grins, before he plops on the bed, the force of it making the whole frame shake a little bit. 

“Drew!” Azzi chides, “you’re gonna wake her up.”

Drew cocks his eyebrows, sparing his sister, who seems unphased by the sudden little bit of chaos around her, still fast asleep, an unimpressive look, “please she can sleep through anything. Besides, it’s already 9. I thought we were gonna do things. I been up for aaaages.”

“She’ll be awake soon,” Azzi smiles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Drew rolls his eyes and it’s remarkable how much he resembles Paige, not just by face, but the mannerisms too. 

He huffs for a second before his eyes sparkle with an idea, “what if we pour water on her!”

“Drew!” Azzi chastises again, trying not to giggle. 

“Boo,” Drew crosses his arms across his chest, “you used to be so cool Azzi.”

Azzi laughs as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, scheming with Drew on how to wake Paige up. And it’s not that she’s beyond that really, tucking the water idea for a rainy day, but Paige looks too peaceful this morning and she wants to preserve that look of serenity on the older girl’s face for just a little bit longer. 

“Hey Azzi,” Drew says after a while and Azzi hums in response, “when you and Paige get married, I can still be a groomsman right? Even if there’s no grooms?”

“Wha- where did that come from?” the brunette’s eyes widened at the question, sitting up a little straighter. 

Drew peers up at her with all the innocence of a pre-teen, “you are gonna get married right?”

“I don’t-”

“It’s too early for your yapping Drew,” Azzi’s saved from answering by Paige’s tired voice entering the conversation. She looks over to find Paige’s eyes already on her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at Azzi. If Drew wasn’t sitting right there, Azzi would lean over and kiss her and let Paige deepen it until they were both satisfied. 

“Oh thank god,” Drew cheers dramatically, “I thought you were gonna sleep forever.”

Paige scoffs, the arm that’s still wrapped around Azzi’s torso tightening its hold, “I wish.”

“Well you’re awake now so get up,” Drew whines, moving from his spot on the end of the bed, to flop on top of Paige’s body instead, “get up, get up, GET UP.”

“Get off,” Paige groans but there’s no real force behind it. Azzi watches with a fond smile, as Paige flips Drew over so that she can tickle him, eliciting rounds of laughter from the younger boy. Something in her heart flutters, her mind going back to Drew’s question. She’s never really been one to think too hard about marriage and children and that domestic suburban life, leaving it up to fate, but now- well, maybe. 

“Okay aight aight enough. Go get ready for breakfast and we’ll be down in a second,” Paige says, ushering Drew off of the bed. 

“You can just tell me you want me to leave so you can kiss Azzi you know?” Drew scrunches up his nose, “you two are gross.”

Paige sends him a stern look and gets a dramatic eye roll in return but as he always does, Drew does as he’s told, mock saluting the two of them and skipping out of the room. 

“He’s right by the way,” Paige says softly, turning back to where Azzi’s leaning against the backboard, “I do want to kiss you.”

Azzi smirks lopsidedly, “what’s stopping you?”

She squeals in surprise when Paige pulls her, the force of it causing both of them to tumble onto the front-end of the bed. Azzi ends up on top of Paige, hands resting around her neck, the blonde’s hands holding her waist in place. 

“Good morning,” Paige grins, clearly proud of herself as she chases Azzi’s lips to pull her into a searing kiss.

“Good morning,” Azzi whispers back, thumb caressing Paige’s left cheek.  

“Just so you know,” Paige pulls away, a determined glint in her eyes, “we’re so getting married one day.”

***

October 2024

Azzi’s mood has been rancid for the last couple of weeks. It’s terrible she knows; it makes her irritating to play with and a nightmare to live with. But even if this had been expected, that she would be on one end of the country and her heart would be on the other side, it doesn’t stop her from constantly being in a state of missing Paige. And it’s different from before, now that there’s a certain surety of of course i’ll see you soon but soon never really feels soon enough. 

“Azzi can you please get the door,” Kiki calls from her room when the doorbell rings. 

“I’m busy,” Azzi grunts back, snuggling further into her pillow with a book she isn’t actually reading, “you go get it.”

“Azzi please, I’m literally in the middle of getting dressed,” Kiki yells exasperatedly. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s pretty sure her teammates are about this close to plotting her murder, and deservedly so, Azzi would sink back onto her bed and let the incessant doorbell noise continue. But she does love her teammates, thinks Kiki probably deserves to change in peace, and it forces her out of bed, grumbling away about annoying visitors. Until she actually gets a look at the visitor. Paige stands on the doorstep, confident as ever, a bouquet of roses and peonies and lilies in her hand. 

“You’re here,” Azzi breathes out, staring in awe. 

“And thank fucking god she is,” Kiki quips from behind her, “maybe we can finally get our old happy Azzi back and not this bitch.”

Paige laughs, “watch how you talk about my girl Rice.”

“You’re here. You’re really here,” Azzi whispers again. 

“I heard you missed me baby,” Paige says, her cocky smirk betrayed by the softness in her voice. And then Azzi is flying into her arms, throwing Paige off balance. 

“So fucking much,” Azzi admits into Paige’s neck, eliciting a giggle from the blonde, “Kiki’s right. I have been a bitch.”

“Just a little bit,” Kiki calls out again but there’s a new fondness in her voice. It’s funny how her team, even the haters, have slowly become Paige fans. They’d been hesitant at first, just like the UConn girls, but now well, it seems the basketball world’s Montagues and Capulets have learned to accept their star players’ relationship. 

“Missed you too Az,” Paige’s tone is vulnerable as they break away, “alright, go get changed, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Or…,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, “we could stay here and do something else.”

Paige shivers under her touch, stepping away to keep some semblance of control “n-no I have plans,” but she can’t help but kiss Azzi’s pout away, “it’ll be worth it, I promise. Besides,” she bites at Azzi’s ear, “there’s always later.”

***

“Your big plans are to bring me to the supermarket,” Azzi cocks an eyebrow as they walk down one of the many aisles, “you turned down sex for this? Should I be offended?”

Paige doesn’t say anything, concentratedly looking at signs, trying to figure out a specific section, before an aha! moment dances over her face, and she pulls Azzi with her, the younger girl going willingly, despite the eye roll. She stops triumphantly in front of the sushi section and Azzi looks at her quizzically. 

“I’m getting you supermarket sushi,” Paige says pointedly, “and then you can get me mac and cheese.”

And if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favourite mac and cheese. Oh. The realisation of what Paige is doing trickles around Azzi a little bit like rain after a long summer drought. She thinks back to the bouquet, everything suddenly making sense.

“You’re such a dork Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly, tapping the older girl’s nose. 

“Your dork,” Paige grins cheesily, “now hurry up and pick one. I don’t wanna miss the sunset.”

***

Once she catches on it, it doesn’t surprise Azzi to find that Paige has everything planned out perfectly, down to the exact spot in the park- the one by Paige’s recovery airBnB, the one they’d taken countless walks in trying to repair their friendship- where the two of them can be away from everybody else, in their own little bubble. And she has a picnic blanket, that’s a little small but they don’t really want space from each other anyways. They lean against a tree, food set up in front of them, Paige’s laptop, carefully piled on top of a couple of books to be the perfect height, set a little bit further away. 

“So what NBA game are we watching?” Azzi asks with a smile and Paige groans, “what? Was that not part of the plan?”

“Dude come on. It’s the beginning of October. Please tell me you know the NBA season isn’t happening yet,” Paige rubs her temple, only a little endeared by the comment, “are you sure you’re a basketball player?” 

“There are games in October. I swear I’ve seen them before,” Azzi says sceptically. 

“Yeah at the very end of the month, not right now.”

“Well then close enough,” Azzi says indignantly, “I don’t need to know the exact day.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige acquiesces with a smirk and it earns her an elbow to the stomach, “what the fuck? That shit’s domestic violence you know?”

“Big words Bueckers, didn’t think you knew them,” Azzi teases, placing a kiss against Paige’s offended expression, before settling herself against the blonde’s side, sighing contentedly when she gets a kiss on her temple in return. They’re cliché enough to put on Love and Basketball, but Azzi doesn’t really end up watching much at all. In between slow kisses, she almost falls asleep a couple of times, the comfort of Paige’s arms like a blanket wrapping her in the warmth of this is my fairytale. 

“THE POLAROID,” Paige’s shout breaks Azzi out of her haze as she feels her body being shaken off, the blonde rummaging through her bag for the camera, “we have to take the polaroid. My wall needs it.”

“Oh yeah a tiny polaroid picture of us inbetween all your Lebron posters, a perfect fit,” Azzi drawls only to be met with a scathing look from Paige. 

“It’s for important things and Lebron is the most important of them all,” Paige explains with complete seriousness, as she finally finds the polaroid camera and shimmies back to Azzi with it in hand. 

The sunset is beautiful. Pink, purple, orange and blue, all blending together to create the perfect picture. But Azzi thinks it’s not nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of her, not nearly as beautiful as the date Paige had planned, not nearly as beautiful as the future she can so clearly see now. Her mind drifts back to the night of the phone call, and she can almost hear Paige’s sobs again, can still hear her own voice breaking. Back then, they had seemed impossible, a butterfly like dream that danced out of their grasp. 

“Hey,” Paige captures her chin with two fingers, “where’d you go?”

Azzi shakes her head, “nowhere. I’m right here. With you. Where I should be.”

“Sappy goof,” Paige snorts but she kisses Azzi like she’ll take those words and hide them in the labyrinth of her mind, protect them there forever. 

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks. 

Click. 

And Azzi hopes, that however many years later, when they have a home of their own, amidst all the photos that they’ll take over the next years, this one will be hung somewhere on their wall, a testament to finally realising every dream they’d dared to dream together. 

***

December 2024 

There are pebbles being thrown at her window and Azzi has to stop herself from laughing when she peers down to see Paige, freezing cold in the Virginia December air, staring up at her with a goofy smile. She shakes her head when her phone rings, knowing it’s Paige and answers it with her own foolish grin. 

“What exactly are you doing?” Azzi asks, “come back to bed.”

“You said I was unromantic. I’m trying to be romantic,” Paige’s teeth chatter in the cold, as she balances her phone in one hand, still throwing rocks with the other. 

“I didn’t say that and throwing rocks at my window is supposed to be romantic? You’re going to wake the whole house up.”

“That’s what they do in all the good rom coms. And you said and I quote ‘we’re kind of boring’. You might be boring Azzi Fudd but I most definitely am not.”

It had been a throwaway comment Azzi had made at dinner with some friends from high school. One of her friends had been going on and on about some adventurous trip that she and her boyfriend were going on, and then asked Paige and Azzi if they had any of that planned. To which Azzi had replied that they were a little too busy, considering they were college basketball players still in season, and besides they were “kind of boring” people. She hadn’t meant it in any type of way. Personally, Azzi likes boring. Paige however, seemed to have taken the comment to heart and Azzi had woken up at 2 a.m. to an empty bed and the sound of something being thrown at her window. 

“Okay I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You're really interesting baby and the most romantic person in the world. Now will you please come back to bed,” Azzi concedes, already missing the feeling of being cuddled up in her blankets with Paige’s body heat keeping her nice and toasty. 

“No,” Paige says indignantly, “come down here.”

“Paige, it's freezing. It’s gonna start snowing any minute.”

“Exactly. That’s exciting.”

“Sleep is exciting,” Azzi whines, but she’s already padding around her room looking for a warm sweater, grumbling under her breath about the warm California sun she’s missing. She tiptoes down the staircase, wincing at the one step that creaks just a little too much, before pushing herself out the door. And it’s freezing cold, there’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s all worth it Azzi thinks, it’ll always be worth it, just to experience Paige’s smile. 

“Knew you’d come,” Paige grins cockily, mittened hands pulling Azzi into her.

“Yeah yeah. What are we even doing?”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige bellows dramatically, “may I have this dance.”

Azzi stares at Paige’s outstretched hand wondering if this is some sort of cry for help, but one look at Paige’s face tells her that the girl in front of her is being absolutely serious. 

“This is your idea of exciting? Dancing in the street while it’s freezing with no music?” Azzi raises an eyebrow, but she takes Paige’s hand. 

“It’s spontaneous,” Paige says the last word with a flourish, as she spins Azzi, “why not dance in the street when it’s freezing with no music?”

And well, that’s a fair point. If anyone were to look out their window that night, they’d probably think the two girls were somewhat crazy. Laughing and giggling and tripping over each other as Paige hums a melody and Azzi occasionally joins in. It’s ridiculous and corny and cliché and perfect. And then the first little bit of snow falls, white drops circling around the two dancing girls, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes. The dim glow of the streetlight is enough to catch identical smiles on the two girl’s faces as they revel in each other. 

“You know some people say if you make a wish during the first snowfall, it’ll come true,” Paige whispers, still waltzing the two of them around, cheek pressed to Azzi’s, “you wanna try?”

And the thing is Azzi doesn’t really believe in all of that, in magic but something about Paige, something about this moment feels magical. It makes a believer out of Azzi. 

“Yeah,” Azzi smiles, “let’s make a wish.”

They stand still, holding hands, eyes closed, both a little breathless, as they make their wishes. And when they open them, if it feels a little bit like maybe their wishes have already been granted, well they’ll share it in a secret smile but never out loud. After all, wishes don’t come true if you speak of them. 

***

April 2025

7 seconds to go in the National Championship and Azzi’s UCLA Bruins are down by two points. It’s her last chance, having already declared for the 2025 WNBA draft, to win a national championship, to bring home their first basketball national championship since the 1978 team that had won the AIAW championship, to win their first NCAA championship ever. It had taken some sheer luck to get to this point if Azzi’s honest. As a two-seed in the Spokane region, they’d benefitted from their one-seed having been eliminated early and then getting to face a Cinderella six-seed in the final four. On the other side of the bracket, UConn, the favourites coming for a repeat, had been stunned by another team, the team that UCLA was now facing. That had caused a bit of a second-hand sting and Azzi’s not really trying to take revenge for Paige, but it'd be a lie to say the get back at them for me babe from earlier this morning isn’t ringing in her head. 

The play is simple, set screens for Azzi, get her open, get her the ball. A two would get them to a tie and three would win it outright. Either will do. It’s a little too reminiscent of last year when Azzi had failed at tying the final 4 game and she can still feel that loss on the tips of her fingers. They break out from their last timeout, breathlessly running to their spots on the floor. The whistle blows, Kiki inbounds the ball and everything is a blur. All Azzi knows is the shot clock is winding down. She runs off of what feels like a million screens. And then she’s open on the wing, for a millisecond. A perfect pass from Kiki makes sure the ball lands straight in Azzi’s hand. And she doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even notice the defender put up a hand, she shoots the ball. There’s two people on the court that know for sure that ball is going in the minute it leaves Azzi’s fingers, the shooter herself and her biggest fan in the stands, who’s been just a little bit in love with that shooting stroke, since before anything else had even begun. 

With a delicate swish, the ball falls through the net, the buzzer sounds around the arena, the crowd explodes in blue and gold, as the UCLA Bruins win the 2025 national championship. 

Everything stills in Azzi’s brain for a second, her thoughts taking a second to catch up to reality. She’s never really been one to emotion on the court, keeping herself steely guarded through most games, even at the very end. But now, triumph and pride and just utter happiness at finally achieving one of her biggest dreams, comes roaring to the surface, manifesting itself throughout her entire body, as she lets out a scream of joy. Her teammates engulf her and she gets lost in a sea of hugs and tears and bright, decadent smiles. 

As thing start to calm down, there’s really only one thing on Azzi’s mind and Paige’s words echo in her ears, because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. And Azzi thinks maybe Paige had discovered one of the biggest truths of their life with that, the truth that at the end of day, in any moment, big or small, happy or sad, the one person Azzi wants next to her, is her Paige. It’s been that way since she was fourteen, and too young to really understand the meaning of wanting someone forever, and she thinks if she has her way, it’ll be like that for the rest of her life, the rest of their life. 

Paige is beaming in the crowd, standing next to Jon and José, a #35 jersey proudly adorning her torso. She waves when she catches Azzi’s eyes, always her biggest cheerleader. And Azzi throws caution to the wind, fuck it, not caring that there’s still a large crowd or that cameras are likely to follow her every move. She pushes her way into the stands, stopping right in front of the blonde. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless. 

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Azzi grins before merging their lips together and everything else fades to the background, until she’s consumed by nothing but Paige. They break apart far quicker than either of them would like and Azzi expects to feel just a little bit of fear at what she’s just done, likely given the media a spectacle they could run a million and one stories about but instead, with her forehead still pressed against Paige’s, she feels nothing but calm. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi whispers and Paige’s eyes widen. They’ve known it for a while now but it’s the first time either of them have said it. 

“Say it again,” Paige demands. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi says again, grinning so hard, she thinks it might become her permanent expression, “like really fucking in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you,” Paige whispers, pulling Azzi into a bone-crushing hug. 

And this might not be the moment where everything finally comes together. There’s still so much life left to live, so much that they still need to work through, so much they’ve yet to deal with. But for now, Azzi has a national championship and she has the love of her life, the rest will work itself out, or so she hopes.

[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

[prettyboykatsuki]

you make me want Rin so bad….. I’m so unwell about him shut up PLEASE for the sake of my sanity….. (don’t actually tho….) he gets all shy afterwards??? really???? 😣 any time you say “peace and love on planet earth” on a post it is the craziest most diabolical shit. absolutely not peace and love it is chaos and torment in horny hell

i really want to study him in a lab so i cant help but write for him in the horniest of ways

HE DOES GET ALL SHY AFTERWARDS. THE NERVE OF HIM LMAO

i dont think he ever truly gets over that feeling though over the course of your relationship though later on he can be the teensiest bit smug.

to me rin sees sex as solely intimacy and not an instinct driven thing so its both very seperate from his sense of egoism and very much related. a lot of rins character arc is about learning how to not only hone his intuition but to really sharpen his instinct and "lose" himself in the feeling od playing soccer.

his whole metaphor about destruction is more appropriately about letting himself be enraptured and possessed by the spirit of the game. if you watch hq its similar to tsukis arc and it's also why sae is such a dick to him about using sae as his reason for soccer.

essentially, rin is very prideful about appearances when he plays soccer. thats his ego. but he can't become a good player if he's not willing to show the worst of him to the sport.

I SAY ALL OF THAT TO SAY: sex, for rin, is separate from his sense of egoism. it's a form of intimacy, a way of companionship - and one of the only separating lines from friend to partner.

so sex for rin is all about instinct. it's why he can't fully be domineering though he makes a great submissive, because while he can feel self-conscious, he loses himself in the pleasure and euphoria of connecting with you so wholly. the experience is almost religious.

the reason he gets so SHY after fucking your brains out is because you have basically seen him at his most raw and sincere. him holding you, fucking you, letting himself indulge in something so physical it borders on caveman is the most vulnerable he's ever been in his life.

and you don't particularly know that. you don't understand because how could you? that part of rin is an enigma even to himself. but rin knows it more, knows that by agreeing to fuck you he's letting you meet a part of him he rarely shows anyway

of course he's a little shy about that. it might always be marriage. it's why he doesn't lay a hand on you and feels embarrassed when he gets those inclinations towards.

yes yes he's horny and finds you hot but most importantly, he wants you to look at him and feel good. he wants to feel good with. there's nothing so sacred yk

once again tho... peace and love on planet earth

[catcze]

HI CATTE! big fan of ur works!! glad to see another wrio filo fan !!, can I request wrio trying to learn filo for Filipino!reader !! I think it's super cute and I feel like he would probably become fluent in secret to surprise you !!!!!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」  Wriothesley x GN! Filipino! reader

「 ### : 」  Fluff, some swearing, but overall very good vibes ♡ Reader can speak Tagalog! I'll be real this is super cheesy esp the tagalog dialogue but SUE ME I love cheesy shit and this is self indulgent. Written pre-4.1 release.Translation for Tagalog dialogue found at the end!

AAAA HI BABY ♡ I cannot express how happy this made me ?!?!? Like, I'm bumping it up on the prio because it made me sooo kilig when i read it HAHAHAH I hope you like it lots !! (also if any filos have corrections/improvement on the tagalog dialogue pls lmk because I am notttt the best at writing in tagalog dialogue lmao) also ! I changed it and made him, like, not super \ fluent yet at Tagalog, hence why imo some of his dialogue sounds a bit;;; like, practiced? textbook? if that makes sense? HAHAH

Wriothesley doesn't have some big, grand reason for doing any of this. It's not your birthday or your anniversary or anything like that. He's not meeting your parents and he sure isn't planning on proposing just yet.

In all honesty, it all started from a quick kiss you pressed to his cheek and a string of words in a foreign language whispered into his ear.

"What did you say?" he asks when you pull away, a small smile on your face.

"I said mahal kita," you tell him, a hand resting on his arm. Your eyes soften almost imperceptibly when you say the phrase again. You sound so damn fond when you say it, it makes his heart want to skip a beat. "It's one of the most common ways to say 'I love you' in Tagalog."

"Can you say it again?" He asks, and you easily comply.

Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Mahal kita. I love you. He turns the words over and over in his head, then tries to replicate how you pronounce it with his own tongue, but the words come out a bit funny thanks to his fontainese accent. He's not used to the intonation of the language and it shows, if your amused little laugh was anything to go by.

"Like this," you tell him after watching him struggle for a bit and taking mercy on his poor tongue. "Repeat after me." Then you open your mouth wide, so he can see how you do it.

"Ma."

"Ma?"

"-hull."

"-hull."

"Kih."

"Kih?"

"Mhm. Tah."

"Tah."

"Put all that together, and you get mahal kita."

He tries it again, but it still comes out a bit funky. Not at all like how you say it, sounding buttery smooth and practically dripping with charisma. Despite this, you still smile at him like he's given you the world in your palms, or like you're about to cry from happiness. You press your lips against his, stealing the air right from his lungs and making his eyes flutter shut. He can never get tired of kissing you, he thinks, and if messing up a little bit gets him this much affection, he can only imagine what you'd be like if he improved.

"Mahal din kita," you mumble against his lips, breaking away but not straying far.

After that, unbeknownst to you, Wriothesley picked up what is essentially (but not actually the title) a Tagalog for dummies book and hunted down a guard in the fortress who can speak the language enough for him to consult whenever merely reading the words on a page was not enough.

You've also begun to speak Tagalog more and more around him since finding out his interest in the language. You've even managed to correct his pronunciation a little bit, despite how new much of it was new to him.

("You have to roll your r's a bit more, Wrio. Like... like you're purring, i guess?" That, in particular, he heard quite often. Who knew that his mother tongue said their r's differently from yours? Certainly not him.)

He eats up every bit of advice you give him in passing when he tries to replicate whatever word or phrase you just said, quietly taking note in his head and repeating the phrases back to himself even when you're not around. He goes to that one guard he had dubbed as his 'Tagalog tutor' and peppers them with questions so often that he figures it warrants him to hand over a particularly generous bonus later on for letting him as much of a bother as he is.

And finally, after a good long while of giving it his best effort, his tutor deems him able to hold a conversation in Tagalog well enough, and promptly pushes him out the door, telling him to 'go get 'em, boss.' before hastily locking the door behind him.

When Wriothesley wanders back to your living quarters, reassuring himself that he's been practicing for this, for you, and that even if he gets it a little bit wrong, you're probably going to be happy either way. Probably.

"Sweetheart?" He calls, coming inside. He follows your faint 'over here' to find you on your bed in your casuals, relaxing for the day.

When you catch sight of him, you smile, beckoning him close, just to press a kiss to his lips when he leans over. "Hey," you say, grinning up at him.

"Kumusta ka? Namiss kita, mahal. " He says, the words coming out a soft murmur against your lips. You pause for a good while, jaw dropping and brows furrowing in confusion, and Wriothesley fears that he could have messed up somehow. Then a wide smile breaks across your face as you glow with absolute delight.

"Hoy, talaga?! Nagtatagalog ka?" You sit up to be eye-to-eye with him, and you see nothing short of pride in his eyes. One of your hands flies up to cover your mouth as you gasp. "Woah, ang galing mo!"

And oh, it's one of the cutest things you've ever seen from him— Wriothesley smiles, just s little bit, and the slightest hints of a blush dust his face. It's adorable to see how he reacts to your praise.

Wriothesley's eyes dart away from yours, one of the few tells of embarrassment you've ever seen from him. "Pasensya na, di pa ako magaling magtagalog. Nag aaral pa lang ako."

"Kahit na!" You're clearly enthused, happy and grinning and buzzing with energy. "Namiss din kita! Okay naman ako. Ikaw? Kumain ka na ba?" You're wide awake and looking up at him like he hung the stars in the sky for you. Wriothesley is smiling now too. All those hours and late nights trying his best to get the words right, and this was the very reason why.

"Mhm, kanina pa, bago pumunta ko dito." One of his hands reaches up to your face. The callouses and scars of his hand drags a giggle from you as he tries to rub the sleep from your eyes. "Sana nakatulog ka ng maayos."

And compared to when you first told him you love him in your language, his Tagalog has improved by leaps and bounds. Still affected by his accent, yes, but his hard work showed through. It is that and the tenderness in his voice that makes you break this little song and dance between the two of you. Your hand reaches up to hold the one cupping your cheek, letting you lean further into his palm.

"Were you intending to surprise me? Because you certainly did. In a good way, I mean."

Wriothesley chuckles. "I'm glad. Been trying to learn it since that first time, and I think I'm making some progress. Though anything more than a simple conversation is still a bit much for me."

"Kahit na," you repeat yourself, "You're amazing! You got so good! Oh, we are going to have so much fun having secret conversations that no one else can understand."

He playfully quirks an eyebrow at that. "While that's definitely going to be some fun, I really wanted to learn how to, ah, tell you that I love you back."

"Oh." Again, you pause. "Well. Here's your chance, I guess." And you smile at him again, the one that has his heart skipping a beat. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him into your space, you press your forehead against his and close your eyes. He can feel your breath tickle against his lips, and he almost sighs in response.

"Mahal kita, Wriothesley."

"Mahal din kita, my love."

Translation:

"Kumusta ka? Namiss kita, mahal. " — "How are you? I missed you, love."

"Hoy, talaga?! Nagtatagalog ka? — "Hey, really?! You're actually speaking Tagalog?"

"Pasensya na, di pa ako magaling magtagalog. Nag aaral pa lang ako." — (spoken sorta formally) "Sorry, I'm not very good at speaking Tagalog yet. I'm still learning."

"Kahit na!" "Namiss din kita! Okay naman ako. Ikaw? Kumain ka na ba?" — "Even so!" "I missed you too! I'm fine. What about you? Have you eaten yet?"

"Mhm, kanina pa, bago pumunta ko dito." "Sana nakatulog ka ng maayos." — "Mhm, I did earlier, just before I came here." "Hopefully you had a good nap."

"Mahal kita, Wriothesley." — "I love you, Wriothesley."

"Mahal din kita, my love." — "I love you too, my love."

[papurgaatika]

All The Quiet Nights You Bear

Pairing: din djarin x gn!reader

summary: Din Djarin is not warm, he does not drink hot drinks, or sit in steamy baths. But for you, he can try.

Tags: angst, din djarin my sweet boy,, bathing, yes this is just giving Din a bath, fluff, hurt/comfort but I'm hurting all of you and comforting him, mention on Din's mother, angst with a happy ending, tooth-rotting amounts of intimacy, non-sexual nudity, no use of Y/N and no description of reader

word count: 1.8k

A/N: Before I start! This is my first official fic that wasn’t a bullet-pointed list I keep in a locked notes app on my phone so I am begging y’all to please be gentle with me. I want to give a MASSIVE shout-out to @joelsdagger for not letting me off the hook and making sure I stick with this, literally would not have been able to do this without her. So the fic: basically I got in the shower one day and thought about Din just being soft, and thus this was born! Fair warning that I Will by Mitski was in heavy rotation while writing this. I literally love him like a real person and he makes my heart hurt and I want to take care of him, so I got self-indulgent. I also don't really know the star wars universe so this is me making shit up as I go!! Anyway!! Peace and love from me I hope y'all love it as much as I do!!

Din Djarin is cold. He slept under the thin sheet he kept in the bunk of the crest for years, his beskar was always cool to the touch, he took cold showers. The idea of warmth never put him at ease either. It seeps into him, clinging to his body under his armor, reminding him of his blaster right after setting it off. He wants to crawl out of his skin anytime he finds himself on a dry planet, sweltering under its suns. 

Din wasn’t used to just how quiet life ended up being on nevarro. Grogu was in school most days, there was relative peace in the area, yet he still found himself clinging to his old self. Never relaxed, always on edge like he was waiting for a fight to break out. You find yourself watching him more closely, recognizing his routines, wanting to put his mind at ease. But how could you? He still took cold showers, quick and precise about it. Never lingering to enjoy the feel of water on his skin, never stopping to relax.

He thinks that the last time he truly took a hot shower was before he took the creed, when his parents were still alive, when he was only Din Djarin the boy, not a mandalorian. It hurt him to think about it, to picture his mother. Her face had grown fuzzy in his memory after decades without her, but he could feel her. The way her eyes were always soft and warm, her voice like the gentle rain that lulled him to sleep when he was young. He missed her. He missed the way she used to hum while warming the water for his bath, the smile on her lips when he would run up to her. He had tried once, to take a warm shower, to try and remember the oils his mother used to use when he was young. It had ended in him slouched over in the bathroom, the steam almost too much, silent sobs tearing through him. So no, din djarin did not take hot showers. 

But you? You were warm. So warm he felt like he was melting every time he even thought about you. The way you kissed his fingers, the gentleness you have while holding Grogu, the look in your eyes when you lay with him. You were all warm showers. The steam that tumbles after you when you open the door lingers around you like it's trying to surround you, to crowd your senses, to be all over you. Everything that din wants to do to you. He would chase after you throughout the whole galaxy if it meant you would say his name, soft and sweet like he was being saved just by hearing it. 

You were the only warmth that he craved. The only heat he allowed himself to enjoy, to truly want. And so when you call him over to the bathroom, voice soft and gentle, he comes. He will always come to you. You smile when he enters the room and takes in the scene in front of him. The bathtub full of water, steam rising from above it. You, with an expression warm enough to rival the water, eyes locked on his. “Come here,” you whispered, taking his hand in yours. He was uncharacteristically slow to move towards you, but you stood there, hand still waiting for his. Your hand took his, your thumb tracing over the side of his fingers so soft he could barely feel it. “Din-” you whisper looking up at him, “let me take care of you, sweet boy” 

That was your boy. The one you were working so hard to melt, to make him soft around the corners. It was rare that he wore the armor anymore, his days usually spent at home with you and Grogu, the need to hide no longer necessary. You bring his knuckles to your lips as a silent promise to be gentle, to not let him break. “Is that okay?” you ask, hand still holding his. 

He nods, not trusting his voice nearly as much as he trusts you, and you smile. God that smile. Din Djarin would live in that smile if he could. The only smile he thinks will be in his mind like his mother’s. You reach for the hem of his shirt, not pulling at it yet, just letting your fingers rest on top of it waiting for any indication that he was okay with it coming off. You hear a small hum leave his throat and you help him take it off. This was a sight you would never tire of seeing. Tan and broad, his tummy soft under your fingers likely because of your cooking, and god was he beautiful. “Always so pretty to look at” Your fingers trail on his chest. You place a kiss over his heart, a gentle reminder that it was yours and that yours was his. 

You watched as he removed the rest of his clothes, admiring the vision that he was. Yours, yours, yours. You nudged him to the bath, waiting for him to get in. He didn't think he could do it. It was hot. It was like the ones his mother gave him. It was not like him. He was not soft or warm, he was cool and hardened from years of fighting. But it was like you. It was for you. And for you, he could do anything. He let out a soft hiss as his feet hit the water, the temperature still taking him by shock slightly.

“It's okay, just relax. I've got you” Your words pulled him from his thoughts, looking over at you with a tilt of his head.

 “You’re not getting in cyar’ika?” he sounds disappointed, almost like he wants to beg you to hold him, but you shake your head at him. 

“This isn’t for me din, just want to help you relax okay?” You move to sit on the stool you put behind the bath, grabbing the basket full of oils and shampoos and letting them fill both of your senses. You use a cup to grab some of the water and pour it over his curls, the strands dampening and sticking to the back of his neck. You take the time to press a soft kiss to his head, nose and lips wet with the water. You pop open the bottle of shampoo you had fought to find. Din rarely spoke of his life before the creed, but you knew enough to set out on a search for it. The aroma of the shampoo grew easier to smell when you poured it into your palm, sandalwood and something almost citrusy being massaged into his hair. Your nails rake over his scalp and press into his forehead where you know he gets headaches. A soft groan leaves his lips, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Is this alright my moon?” you whisper, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled into the room along the steam of the bath. 

“It’s perfect my sun,” he replies, words uncharacteristically soft for him. A small smile finds its way to your lips as you continue to massage the soap into his hair before rinsing it out, taking care to not get it in his eyes.

 “Scooch up, I'm gonna do your shoulders” You dip your toes into the water, legs resting against his thighs before grabbing the soap and a washcloth. 

“So pretty for me Din,” a kiss on his neck “always so perfect,” another one above his collarbone “don't know what I would do without you.” a third kiss on his shoulder, right above a scar he had gotten over the course of his career. You let the soap run down his back gently, watching the bubbles drip down and hit the water. You rub small circles into his skin with the washcloth, running water over it to rinse off the soap, before moving to his arms. Even before you had seen his arms, you had known that he was strong. Hunting bounties all day, fighting, piloting the crest, had led to his arms and hands being known for violence, for having blood on them. But not to you. To you they were the ones that draped across your body at night, the ones used to hold your son while you were out in the markets, they were warm and strong and perfect. They shielded you and protected you, and while you didn’t think you could do the same for him, you were willing to try. Your fingers trace patterns over the scars and freckles he has, goosebumps forming on his skin.  He is sitting in front of you in the bath, the water so hot at one point, that his skin is a little red. Your hands are in his hair taking time to wash it, to truly wash it. Your nails rake against his scalp as the shampoo lathers, before you rinse it out taking care to not get it in his eyes. You massage the conditioner into the ends of his hair, before leaning down to press kisses onto his shoulder. 

“Thank you for letting me do this for you my moon” you murmur resting your chin on his shoulder. He lets out a soft hum that you can feel as you’re pressed up behind him. “Thank you for doing it, my sun.” you can feel the water growing colder than you would like under the two of you, so you make quick work of rinsing the rest of the conditioner out of his hair, lightly curling a few strands around your finger as you finish. Neither of you wants to make a move to get out, the warmth of each other making the water’s temperature almost obsolete, but a sneeze betrays him getting a giggle from between your lips, and din swears it’s the sweetest sound he will ever hear. He can feel your lips curled into a smile as you let your forehead fall to rest on the back of his shoulder and shake your head. 

“Time to get out I think,” you say, reaching over to grab a towel for yourself before stepping out and pulling it around yourself. Din stands next, taking his towel from your hands and wrapping it around his waist before pulling you into him, a surprised “oof” leaving your mouth as he holds you against his chest. You blink up at him, eyes twinkling at just the sight of him and raise an eyebrow waiting for him to speak. 

“Thank you cyar’ika,” his words tremble slightly as he takes a deep breath “Really, this was amazing.. Thank you.” He presses a chaste kiss to the top of your head before letting one of his hands capture yours, interlocking your fingers together. “Anything for you my love” you whisper back before nodding softly to your shared bedroom “Come now, let’s just rest for the day.”

[youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars]

PRONGSFOOT SMUT DRABBLE

tags ig: making out, mlm, smut, frottage, coming in pants, hickies, biting, thigh riding, um pet names but the good ones (love/sweetheart), james/sirius, marking, possessiveness (it feels both very obvious and very subtle), slight dom/sub but only a little bit i feel, very self indulgent on the foreplay, choking, dialogue heavy i suppose

This was literally purely self indulgent (i'm a whore for this type of shit don't judge me)/a dare from my other half so...enjoy?

also my first time writing anything like this so don't tell me if it sucks i'll cry (lie if you have to)

•••••••••••••••••

•••••••••••••••••

It was all just a bit of fun really.

Or, well, that's how it started anyway.

"You ever kiss a bloke James?" Sirius had asked, second beer bottle in hand as he sat back on the sofa, legs spread wide–the picture of nonchalance.

"No I suppose I haven't. Just girls," James had replied, sitting crosslegged on the sofa with his back resting against the opposite arm, also on his second beer.

Sirius wished he knew how to think before speaking. Maybe the combined forces of his years long crush on James and the alcohol induced confidence is the reason he didn't keep his mouth shut.

"Would you like to?"

There was silence.

"Yes."

---

It started off innocent enough, Sirius had moved closer to the center of the couch, James doing the same.

"So, what do I do? Do I jus–" James questioned, looking at him with poorly concealed excitement and slight nervousness. Sirius shushes him, smiling reassuringly before leaning in until their lips were a few inches apart.

"Just close your eyes," He whispers, his breath softly fanning James' face. Only once his eyes have fully slipped closed does Sirius carefully close the gap between them, softly pressing their lips together.

It was only a quick press of lips, but Sirius' breath still caught in his throat at the feel of his best mate's lips on his. They pull away, Sirius slowly opening his eyes to meet the slightly blissed out expression on James' face. Seemingly remembering himself, James' eyes flutter open, mouth parted slightly in awe.

"Can I uh-" James licks his lips, dragging Sirius' gaze down to the movement, "Can I do that again?" he breathes, eyes almost slipping closed at the thought.

"Yes please," Sirius replies, breathy. James surges forward to connect their lips again, Sirius catching himself on his hands as the force pushes him back a bit.

James kisses him with vigor, and he finds himself melting into it. A soft moan escapes his throat, encouraging James, who pulls Sirius in by the waist until he was kneeling on the couch, towering above James.

Now with free hands, Sirius brings them up to cup either side of James' face, his glasses pressing into his cheek from the angle. James' arms wrap tighter around his waist as he tilts his head to the left a bit and–

Fuck.

Sirius moans at the change in angle, and James lightly drags his tongue across his bottom lip. Sirius opens up easily and the taste of James floods his every sense.

Their tongues meet and James has to stop himself from letting out a whimper at the sensation. Fuck he wants to devour this man. He brings his hands up to cup Sirius' face before dragging his fingertips lightly down the sides of his throat. Sirius grabs his waist, pulling on the bottom of his shirt, cold hands finding purchase on his warm skin. James shivers at the contrast.

"Can I try something else?" James asks, mouth ghosting over his best mates. Sirius nods once and James lets out a quiet "tsk" in disapproval.

"Words love," Sirius' rolls his eyes as he lets out a soft "yes" in response. James smiles then tilts his head, leaving feather light kisses across his jawline. He grips Sirius' chin in his right hand as he makes his way down the right side of his neck.

Sirius' breath hitches as James reaches a particularly sensitive spot, his eyes falling closed. James grins to himself and closes his mouth around the spot, sucking harshly. He quickly pulls off.

"Fuck-wait-I don't wanna leave a mark you have work tomorrow," James looks at him, concerned.

"I couldn't give less of a shit. Leave as many as you want," a light kiss on James' lips, "please," Sirius moans. James stares, an unreadable expression on his face. Sirius looks at him, brows furrowed.

"What's wr–"

"You're into that aren't you?" James asks, his hand slipping from Sirius' chin to find purchase in his hair. James almost melts at the softness of his long, dark curls. Sirius raises an eyebrow.

"Into what?" James tightens his hand in his hair, pulling just slightly, not missing the way Sirius' breath catches as he tries to maintain eye contact.

"Don't be a brat, you know what I mean." James leans in closer, breath ghosting along Sirius' face, "Being all marked up for everyone to see, showing the world you belong to someone else? You like being owned by someone?" James whispers, giving another light tug to Sirius' hair, who's eyes finally roll back as he whimpers.

"Fuck–I, yes. Yes," Sirius stutters out. James groans, tilting his head back down to the pale boys throat, biting harshly at the junction between his neck and shoulder.

Sirius moans, hands tightening on James' waist, nails digging in to the soft flesh of his sides. James hopes they leave marks.

"Fuck James," James scrapes his teeth across the sensitive area, biting and sucking anywhere his mouth could reach. He felt his blood rush south as his cock twitched in his pants at the sounds Sirius would make every time he bit down. Who knew it felt this good to just give?

Sirius tugs on his hair, making him moan as his grip tightens around Sirius, not wanted to stop.

"James, let me-please" he gasps, tugging on James' hair again. James groans in disappointment as he pulls his mouth away from Sirius' throat.

"James?" James can't pull his eyes away from the absolute mess that is Sirius' throat. Adding the utter debauched look in his best mates' eyes to the rapidly blossoming hickies on his neck, ranging from a light pink to a deep purple (even some with prominent bite marks), he could fucking come right then and there just from looking at him.

"God look at you," James groans, dragging is fingertips over Sirius' throat, pupils blown wide, "i've wanted to decorate this pretty throat of yours for months," Sirius whimpers at his confession, his hand tightening in his hair as he bites his bottom lip to muffle his sounds. James presses his thumb on the edge of his lip, pulling down until Sirius lets go. He surges forward, catching James in another bruising kiss.

James brings his arms tight around Sirius' waist and pulls, dragging Sirius into his lap. Sirius goes willingly, planting his knees on either side of James' thighs. James pulls him closer, gripping tightly by the hips, and the two boys moan loudly as their clothed cocks brush together. Sirius brings his hands up to either side of James' face and pulls away, smirking.

"My turn."

James doesn't get a chance to properly react before Sirius tilts his head and descends upon his throat, returning the favor. Sirius is slow, taking his time making sure every part of James' neck is kissed and bit and sucked. James tilts his head back, letting it rest on the back of the sofa as Sirius continues his assault on the front of his throat. When he reaches a particular spot right above his collarbone James lets out a high pitched whimper, bucking his hips, grip tightening on Sirius who moans in response, sucking harder.

James lets go of Sirius' hips, hopefully covered in finger-shaped bruises, and he rucks up Sirius' shirt just enough for him to get his hands on his bare back. He splays his fingers out as far as they can go, wanting to cover as much of his canvas as possible as he slides his hands up.

He drags his nails down the expanse of Sirius' back as hard as he can. Sirius unlatches from James' neck, throwing his head back as he keens loudly, gripping the back of the sofa hard enough his knuckles turn white, and grinds down hard into James' lap.

"Fuck," James groans, eyes fluttering shut.

He leaves one hand splayed on Sirius' lower back while the other snakes into his hair once more, pulling him down into another kiss of tongue and teeth.

"Oh fuck James," Sirius breathes, hips grinding down to meet James' but hands back on his hips stop him from getting far. Sirius whines in disappointment and James bites his neck in a slight reprimand before moving his lips down to the joint between Sirius' neck and shoulder, sucking harshly. James drags his teeth up the side of his neck, grazing his earlobe just so.

"Say my name again," James whispers, breath tickling Sirius' ear.

"Beg," Sirius grunts in response, grinding down. James stops any and all movement, chuckling harshly.

"You're in no position to make demands sweetheart," He mocks, holding Sirius' hips off his lap.

Sirius groans desperately, rocking his hips but James is holding him an inch or so above his lap. Sirius' eyes roll back at knowing James is strong enough to hold him up without effort. His mind wanders to what other manhandling he could do. Sirius is broken out of his thoughts by another harsh bite on his shoulder.

"James," he moans loudly. James drops him back into his lap, guiding Sirius' hips to grind ever so slowly against his own, "James,"

"Good job sweetheart," James moans bringing their lips together. Sirius licks at his bottom lip and James opens up eagerly.

"James," Sirius chokes as James thrusts up particularly hard.

"Tell me," James whispers, dragging his lips across the shell of Sirius' ear, "tell me what you want,"

"I want," Sirius breathes, eyes fluttering as James trails his lips down the expanse of his neck, leaving a feather light kiss on a rather large hickey on the middle of his throat, "oh god,"

"Mm try again love," James teases, pulling him closer so they're chest to chest. He could feel Sirius' heart beating erratically. No doubt his own would feel the same.

Sirius untangled his hands from James' hair bringing them up to rest on James' cheeks. He leaned down resting his forehead on James', their breaths intertwining between them.

He grinds down into James' lap uttering a quiet "please" but James quickly moves his hands to Sirius' hips, stopping him.

"What did I say?"

"I wanna ride you," Sirius pleads, desperately attempting to rock his hips again, but James' grip held strong. Fuck, they're definitely exploring that later, Sirius thinks.

"My cock or my thigh love," James questions, tilting his head up to capture Sirius' lips in a short kiss. Sirius groans.

"Oh god. Thigh," Sirius gasps, stealing another kiss, "please, I don't think I could make it to your cock,"

"Good boy," Sirius shudders at the praise. James groans, shifting Sirius so he was straddling one thigh, his knee resting against James cock. His eyes nearly roll back as he moans at the pressure.

"You like that sweetheart? Like being called my good boy?" Sirius moans loudly, burying his face into James' neck, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he moves his hips.

"Fuck that's it love," James groans, dragging out his words between breaths as Sirius' knee ruts against his cock, "Wanna see you get off on my thigh."

Sirius throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut at the sensations filling his body. James hands grip his thighs, throwing his own head back as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh god-fuck-please!" Sirius cries out, grinding faster and faster. James brings one if his hands up to hold Sirius' throat, not squeezing, just resting there. Sirius stutters in his movement, whining as he moves his hand onto James' resting on his throat.

"Please," Sirius moans, squeezing James' hang on his throat. James groans at the sight.

"Say my name," James grunts. Sirius' squeezes tighter on the hand holding his throat but James remains still.

"James please," he begs, "James, James, Ja-" He stutters out a moan as his mouth drops open, James hand tightening on his throat. The pressure on his already thoroughly bruised neck makes him whimper. He grinds down with renewed fervor, thighs shaking as he gets closer to coming undone.

"C'mon love, be a good boy and come for me," James says, thrusting upwards into the delicious friction Sirius' knee provides.

Two thrusts later and Sirius comes with a long moan, eyes rolling back as his vision whites out. James lets go of his throat and holds onto his hips, working him through the aftershocks.

"Fuck sweetheart what a sight you are," James groans, pressing a quick kiss to Sirius' forehead, "that's gotta be one of the hottest things I've ever witnessed," he rubs a comforting hand up and down Sirius' thigh. Sirius laughs lightly before noticing the still hard cock straining against his knee.

"You're still hard," He notes.

He reached down, pressing his palm against James' dick, but keeps it still. James hisses through his teeth.

"Fuck, Sirius I'm so fucking close," James stutters out, head thrown back against the sofa. Sirius hums, turning his head to kiss along James' neck as he starts slowly dragging his palm across his cock. Sirius can feel how big he is even without the added fabric and the thought of that inside him makes his cock give a pathetic twitch. He moves his palm faster.

"C'mon baby, now it's your turn to come for me," Sirius whispers in his ear before pulling him down into a harsh kiss. James thrusts into his palm a few more times before he's breaking the kiss with a groan, hips stuttering as he comes. Sirius continues to palm him softly, working him through the aftershocks as James comes down from his high.

"Fuck."

"Agreed."

James laughs, bringing an arm around Sirius' back as he kisses him lightly. Sirius sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms back around James' neck.

"For an amateur you sure knew what you were doing," Sirius says playfully. James chuckles lightly.

"I said I'd never kissed a bloke, not that I didn't know what I was doing," he retorts.

"Evidently," Sirius smiles. He goes to shift and then grimaces. "Think we need a shower after that I reckon," James smirks up at him, quirking a brow.

"Round two?"

They rush to the bathroom.

[vampirevatican]

Scrap the last one bestie!

The brothers with a black gf black n wash day, hair redone day, and styles they like on her!!

Enjoy so self indulgent content 😘

omg tytytyty so much!! since it's self indulgent, ima write (w/ my hair, 3b - 4a, and self in mind) my faves and what comes to mind uwu

Wash day, Styling and Fave Style

The ones who help w/ the process:

Satan goes the whole nine yards. Conditioning, rinsing, detangling, shampoo, rinse, and style. If braids, ofc blow dry then style but if not? Then he does everything to keep her curls intact. Usually sections the hair so it's easier on her. On days where he's pissed but it's also wash day, it soothes him. Seeing her smile as he shampoos her hair, the fact she trusts him with her hair. You know this demon did research, like heavy research.

Beel would help with the detangle but feels bad seeing her wince when he has to brush it out, so he helps with washing and lets her detangle but always reminds her to section it off so it's easier. Also helps with styling but there are quite a few snack breaks where she ends up doing it herself for a bit before he gets back to it. Belphie is usually there, seemingly knocked out, and will say something out of the blue like. "If you keep it sectioned off then it's easier." or "Beel she's fine, the braids are supposed to be tight." If im thinking black-hispanic twins? then they've got her set, no research needed. though Beel is still Beel, so Belphie does the detangling instead.

Levi would be able to help with a lace front and you can't tell me otherwise. It's the cosplay. I know this demon don't play when it comes to cosplay. Now if we're talking blasian levi, i feel like he could do the whole process w/o research but would have to slip into a hairstylist persona. Same goes for Levi as is, but once he does, seeing you trust him is enough to put his confidence through the rough. "Me? Really? You want a filthy, loser, shut-in, otaku like me to do your hair?" trust me he's good at it, would need to do some research to figure out styles and how but he's p good.

Asmo would do it no questions asked and fully eager too. Already has a list of styles ready, just needs you to pick though he definitely has his favorite.

The ones who give support:

Mammon is my silly mfer. my goofy ahh nigga. so he's here to keep her sane through the process, to keep her from doing the 'i remember you was conflicted' kendrick scream. ESPECIALLY when it's any hairstyle that has many parts/sections, like (god forbid) micro braids. Oh yes and although he is my black man, i like to think he only knows how to do his hair. Gotta keep up the appearance, after all his face card makes dollars so he doesn't have to make sense/cents. You'd let him comb through, detangle, your shit once and he immediately puts the brush down when you shout about the ouch because he fucked up the order.

Lucifer would literally pay someone to get it done for her and if they ever fucked up the process? May Lord Diavolo help the poor lesser demon, or human. Honestly I feel like he'd make a big deal out of it and even travel to the human world with her, especially if it made her more comfortable.

Belphie could do her hair... he just doesn't want to. He loves to touch whenever it's just out and mutter about how soft it is when it's washed then dried, but he is not dealing with that mass of hair. Hell even if im talking black-hispanic belphie?? he still wouldn't. He has Asmo do his hair for him, and as sloth why tf would he? So his purpose is to say something to encourage and reassure Beel, pull her out of dreams when Beel needs a break from styling or hold conversation with her to keep her awake while doing hair.

Their favorite hairstyles... and why! ☝🏾🤓:

Asmo loves french curl braids. They're very pretty, long, come in many colors and combinations, the curl!!! like, come on now. Versatile too because of how long it is, there's multiple ways to put it up and wear it. A second favorite is box braids but curling the ends when sealing them. Because it's just as pretty and versatile but sometimes shorter than the french curls.

Mammon likes loves fulani braids, bantu knots, jaded braids, triangle box braids, knot less braids, yarn braids and whenever she styles her fro into a shape. He love, love, love, loves seeing you being expressive with your hair. Second to that is whenever she wears a style that matches his. (yes actual black hairstyles, yes im talking about fan art.)

Beel doesn't have much of an opinion, she looks pretty no matter what in his eyes. However there are styles he thinks are cool or add to her cuteness like: afro, bantu knots, jaded braids, bubble braids, goddess braids

Belphie also doesn't have a preference, protective style or just out he loves it... BUT he likes it when it's easier for her to put a bonnet on or just lay down so he's biased to: twists, braids, faux locs, and box braids

Levi likes twists of all kinds and snake braids, or as i like to call it zig zag cornrows. He also likes whenever you just wear a wig/weave/sew-in because he has a hand in making it look like your actual hair, again cosplay lace front skills to the rescue. But also because he enjoys the ease of taking it off, depending on installment, and switching it out. Loves you being able to cosplay at the drop of a hat or embodying his favorite visual novel girls. "She gon' be black today." her and blasian levi say in unison.

Satan loves anything that shows off her natural hair. Not like adding hair ruins it for him, he loves her in any style but adores seeing it with little manipulation. With that said, afro or poof(s). Find it endearing and thinks she's adorable whenever she fashions the fro or twin poofs into cat ears. He also loves it when she does that with her box braids but just adores the floof.

Lucifer wouldn't say he has a preference but it's just known he loves elegance so: goddess braids, box braids with curls, french curl braids, micro braids, sew-in, lemonade braids, and nubian twists. Because he's pride, he loves to show her off and regardless of the style? whenever he decides to take her out and show her off he's gonna make sure she looks stunning.

[littledollll]

Warmth

Lucifer Morningstar x reader

A/n: Idk why my brain decides to make little self indulgent fics when I have actual requests to write, it just flows easier but also come on doll u have shit to do!! (April 9th) thanks to @pebbleswritessometimes for letting me rant abt all my Lucifer ideas

Today: hey! Finally posting this, no point in holding it back ig. Uhh I have some half written requests in my notes, might get to those, might not, no promises, im very sorry.

I think writing was like a hyperfixiation I got for a few months and now I don’t rly have motivation for it! But if I do I’ll post randomly 👍

Warnings: kinda insecure r?, just some sweet kisses

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Hell was cold. It always is. Uncomfortably frigid, that type of freezing that seeps deep into your bones and is impossible to escape no matter how hard you try.

But you. Something about you didn’t allow that cold to touch you. For you were warmth and light, the touch of your hand enough to at least calm that freezing cold. You were comfortable warmth. A warm summers breeze, like the one you’d find at the beach. And light, a soft cloudy light. And Lucifer, oh Lucifer was weak for it. Something you knew very well.

After an eternity in the freezing hell, seeking a little warmth sounds like the sanest thing to do. Lucifer fell inlove with that warmth٫ fell in love with you. That fire which without you, they’d only get when they put their hands to the open fire, a fire that didn’t seem to satisfy them as well as you.

It wasn’t just about your warmth, though let’s admit it did help you get closer.

You.. your person. It was warm calming light too, everything about you. It wasn’t just about that physical warmth. You were sunshine as a person, it would only make sense for the lightbringer to attract the sun to them wouldn’t it? And they did. You fell for them as they fell for you.

You enjoyed the fire in the middle of their throne room. It was bright and roaring. Always burning. It also changed according to Lucifer’s mood, which you found nothing short of fascinating. You sat and watched it closely, to anyone else it would be dangerously close but warmth was your friend after all.

“Sweet one.. what are you busy thinking about?” Lucifer hummed as they watched you zoned out for the past few minutes.

“How long have you been lurking?” They didn’t startle you, still you could never figure out how they walked into a room with those stunning healed boots and made no sound. “I think, admiring. Is the word you’re looking for.” Lucifer replied with their signature smile. Their arm stretched out and waiting for you as they sat on their throne.

You made your way towards them, taking their hand, they used it to pull you over their lap. Like they, like you always do. Your arms happily wrapped around them, face nuzzled into their neck. “it’s kinda funny that you’re the Lightbringer, and you brought me here. One could argue it was on purpose, all planned out.”

Lucifer sighed comfortably under your weight, under your warmth. A gentle hand rubbing your back and a kiss was pressed to your temple. “Oh but it wasn’t.. I am just extremely lucky aren’t I? To have one such as you by my side.. my perfect one”. They always spoke so highly of you, making you giggle and blush red.

“It’s true, don’t you know my darling? You are divine. Your light, your warmth. You are just delightful.” They always spoke so casually while saying such high praise. “mm, you always say that.” Lucifer frowned and lifted your face to look at them. “I say that and much more. Everything I say is because it’s true. Don’t ever doubt my word and don’t ever doubt your worth, my heart.” Lucifer’s tone was more demanding than anything, like they forbid you from talking down to yourself. Their thumb ran over your bottom lip as they studied you for a moment. “Do you understand, pretty one?”

Without hesitation, you nodded. “I understand..” and Lucifer seemed quite pleased with that answer when they only replied by pulling you into a sweet kiss, and a few more after that..

They had to show and convince you of their love and adoration in some way, right?

[lakka-arts]

HI heres a list of really great mcsm artists (personal recs)

mainly made for my friend @glitxhy-b0yy!!! :D who is a FANTASTIC artist themselves and has some great content on there!!

also partially as a self indulgent post to compliment my friends so lets go!! (yes this does mean that my opinions are going to be bias asf dont come for me--)

this is not a COMPLETE list but its just the artists that i can come up with off the top of my head-- might add more later!

polarized-here

polar's artworks is what i like to describe as comforting as it consists of neat lineart and cell shading with glowing effects! they're probably most commonly known for their admin!jesse au, which is a fucking BADASS au with the coolest concept artwork that i've seen?? like hands down, stunning with a stunning execution of it. polar's artwork are like,,, holy shit man. they're such a cool person :)

terracomets

rusty is a phenomenal artist AND writer who has an au series that i cannot recommend enough called Misfit Mania!! He has a BUNCH of great character designs, including ocs and other medias too! i consider him a jack of all trades bc no matter what fandom, no matter what kind of character it is, rusty always succeeds at great portrayal of them :DD his fav character is axel and as a result, he's got a bunch of fantastic axel artwork on his blog!! :)

mcs-art-etc/lukasdoodles

lukasdoodles has genuinely one of the most unique art styles that i have ever that is both adorable AND menacing /pos at times. their artwork consists of colorful lineart, and INSANELY detailed clothings, like oh my god. they're also INSANELY creative when it comes to it as well, putting in so many ruffles, and belts, and!!! so much more!! not only that but they have a bunch of blaze rods drawings on their blog!! including gill, who i think is one of the underrated characters in mcsm! they also do some animation every now and then, which is always so cool to see!!

zonerz

zonerz is one of those dual part artist and dual part writers with their great artwork and writing! they're really good at putting together lore and is super in-depth when it comes down to the nitty gritty! their armor drawings are really well done and i admire the attention to details with every single one of their drawings!!

zoomire

fel is one of the coolest fucking people i have ever met and #1 cassie rose fan. their artstyle reminds me of traditional paintings that you would find in a museum, like it is so refined and their character anatomy is ON POINT with how they draw muscles and scars so realistically. their aiden design is also one of the most dazzling to me bc of how they incorporate lightning into his scars. ALSO a huge aidrose fan if not THE president of the goddamn ship. they have so many character analysis on them both together and separately and they're always written SO WELL WITH SO MUCH RESPECT TO THE SOURCE MATERIAL.

a lost crow

crow has a bunch of fantastic mcsm content but one of their most fascinating ones is their command!lukas au, which has a whole story to go alongside it but i won't spoil it ;) and their individual jesse au where every single jesse has their own personality traits and they're so unique and well written!! absolutely love both au to bits!

acraftedmistake

acraftedmistake's art is unique in the sense that it is purely traditional and takes great advantage of paper texture as well as textures from markers and pens to make its presence known! to add to that, they do a bunch of mcsm work themed around horror! i do need to put a warning that they sometimes involve gore though it is very artistically done!! phenomenal artist!!

zhezhy

Zhenya has enough content to the point where i can make an entire POST this long to talk about her and the absolutely stunning drawings she makes about mcsm, particularly about the old order of the stone. she excels at drawing ivor, harper, and soren the most, though she has dwelved into other characters that haven't had the most light shed on them. my absolute favorite thing about her artwork is her artstyle because it is this GORGEOUS sketchy style where both the colors and the lines express themselves SO WELL and SO EFFECTIVELY! i can go raving mad about it honestly

offeathersandcube/novatheastropirate

Nova's artwork, i would like to define it, is filled with love and care. Her lineart and coloring patterns are colorful and light, as if they were drawn for the illustration for a book series, filled with so much delight. Nova's specialty is how she both writes and draws Ellegaard with so much appreciation for her character and through her portrayal of her. It's nothing short of dedication and heart. Nova's other works are also great as well and they do a lot to show Nova's artistic talent.

[lxvvie]

in regards to ur last post ur so valid omg. i keep seeing cod authors mention reader’s pussy being pink but as a latina i do not have a pink pussy??? like??? it’s a pet peeve of mine and it greatly discourages BIPOC readers from reading fics. i’ve stopped halfway through some really good smut bc reader is alluded to be white/fair skin toned :/

to think that cod characters will only date a certain race/color is absurd. especially when they think it’ll only be white. maybe i’m being selfish bc i know most authors write for themselves and/or are self indulgent but i want to be included as well :(

sorry for this rant. you don’t have to post this if you don’t want to. i just figured you’d understand where i’m (and many many other BIPOC readers) are coming from

much love <3

I have seen this play out across multiple fandoms. I totally feel where you're coming from, nonnie.

I've also come to a place of general acceptance with fanfic writers writing for themselves, with themselves and similar people in mind, based on their experiences, etc. I don't carry that expectation like I used to when I was younger because their lived experiences aren't mine and vice versa. Trust me, it took some time to get here, and that's the primary reason why I do my best to make sure my writing is as inclusive as possible, not just for black and other readers of color, but for anyone who comes across it.

Now I can read, enjoy fics for what they are, and keep it moving.

I do have issues, however, with people in fandoms who go out of their way to harass writers/readers of color on some, "[insert fave here] would never be with a POC reader," or "what makes you think [character] would be with [reader from a specific group]?" bullshit.

I'll use CoD as an example since you mentioned it, nonnie. ❤️

You mean to tell me that the likes of Price, Soap, and Ghost, who've traveled the world, worked with a diverse array of people, and been exposed to different cultures, couldn't possibly be paired with a reader of a different race, nationality, and/or ethnicity?

...But the likes of Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy, Farah, Horangi, Valeria, etc. are hot as fuck, down bad for you, and want to rearrange your guts yesterday?

Make that shit make sense.

[pianocat939]

Y

Yandere mud dogs headcannons pls?? 👉👈

(bro- I'm sorry but I only like Heinous Green ya little weirdo /lh)

Tw: mention of killing + kidnapping, manipulation, power difference, glorification

Loathesome Leonard

Yan traits: Controlling + Possessive

He absolutely loves being in a position of power, so he reacted badly when Danny took him out of his position as leader. He'll always try to keep you underneath him (not in a literal sense) and not fight back verbally or physically.

He will whine for your attention- and gets jealous very easily

Dastardly Danny

Yan traits: Manipulative + Self-Glorifying(?)

Bro will degrade you so hard- and he will manage to do so even if you don't try to interact with him or have any connection to him. And if you end up becoming vulnerable he'll try to target you and manipulate you into thinking he's the superior one and you should feel honoured to harbour his attention.

He literally will not stop glorifying how wonderful he is and all that shit. Despite the fact he's literally a fucking criminal-

Malicious Mickey

Yan traits: Clingy + Possessive

He's just really clingy. Like, not in an insecure way more so "I don't want anyone else to have your attention- pay attention to only me." He will definitely electrocute anyone he deems is stealing your attention. And this brat here will act like he's totally innocent and wrap his body around you- (cuz he's an eel and all).

He will steal your items- like anything. From a single shoe to your shirt anything.

Heinous Green

Yan traits: Possessive + Dependent

(This is totally not self-indulgence)

I GET TO MAKE THE CALLS HERE. He definitely gives the vibe of "I act all cruel and violent as I am a top criminal, but I really do want a snuggle for no reason-" He is violent, and will kill anyone that keeps you away from him.

At first he doesn't act much, he just makes a few grunts here and there and growls (he's not entirely verbal-) if you try to leave his side. Try to hold his hand or give him a pat on his arm and he'll be more lenient. And soon enough you can get a softie who is all up for the affection.

but- that doesn't mean he still has his violent and possessive tendencies. Bro will not hesitate to kidnap you- since he can enlarge his body to the point you're pretty much powerless against him.

He will speak a bit more if you're closer.

——————————————————

They're extremely hard to write for- since they have little screentime.

I'm gonna be honest here- I literally don't care for the actual mud dogs.

I only care for Heinous Green-

- Celina

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

honestly zutara being such a popular ship doesn’t bother me because the most recent 2000’, 2010’ and 2020’ romance stories have being the worst shit u could imagine i mean twilight, 50 shades of gray, the after series like my god they’re so popular aand soo bad no wonder zutara is so popular lol aand i do see zutarians wanting their ship to be like pride & prejudice which is one of the only good romances who are popular buut they will never compare to mr darcy and elizabeth leets be honest

I'm gonna be real, I don't care that people like shitty "love stories" like Twillight or 50 Shades. What bothers me is when these people are not even a little bir aware that the relationships in these stories are not healthy, and thus are only to be immitated in other works of fiction, not in real life (50 Shades in particular annoys me since it's taken as BDSM 101 by some clueless people even after the actual kink community went "PLEASE don't take this as a guide, you WILL get seriously hurt"). If they're aware of it and just want to enjoy some trashy fun to turn off their brains for awhile? Good for them, none of my business.

Same for Zutara - I think the ship is boring and makes no sense, but if people like it, fine. if they are writting fics in which their relationship is problematic, toxic, abusive or they're just selfish assholes in geral, while being AWARE that's what they're writting? Power to them. Do they want to write some self-indulgent crap and get all pretencious? Same, that's a Tuesday for me.

It's the non-stop, condescending, arrogant "We are totally the feminist ship", "We are canon actually, you MUST treat us a such", and "We can write full on non-con fics if we like, but if you dare to ship Kataang after the Ember Island kiss, you're an abusive apologist" that I cannot fucking stand.

[your-friendly-neighbourh00d-fag]

(hi I'm thickskulldotmp3!)

talk funkobra to me (if you want) 👀... I don't necessarily ship them (I don't really ship anyone here atp I'm more interested in the ambiguities and complexities of non-romantic interpretations tbh) but I would love to hear any miscellaneous headcanons or Thoughts you might have on them. I think they're crazy about each other in every sense of the phrase and that's beautiful

you're actually so real for being more interested in platonic 'joy stuff, there's soooo many cool dynamics to explore.

however i am also funkobra trash, so lets goo!!

totally agree, even if im not writing them as In Love, they have to be at least a little obsessed with each other. something about them being the only ones to understand the intricacies of eachother's brains. the shared madness of two.

they both get really destructive i think, only ghoul gets really self destructive and kobra gets outwardly destructive. they're the only ones who will indulge each other. like poison will tell kobra it isn't healthy, and fighting random 'joys in bars is bad, and he should talk about it instead, etc. etc. but ghoul will just get on the back of kobra's bike and go with him. yeah, it isn't healthy, but sometimes you need to do dumb shit.

kobra's a really good artist, so he's designed a few of ghoul's tattoos. ghoul's DONE some on himself, but kobra's always drawn the stencil.

ghoul always spends ages in the workshop making bombs, and kobra always spends ages in the workshop making bike mods and stuff, and sometimes they don't talk for hours, just feel comfort in the fact that the other is there.

but, what they do do, is make little trinkets for each other and pass them wordlessly across the bench. ghoul's favourite is soldering tiny flowers for kobra. one time kobra made a flower crown but out of wires for ghoul. he'd worn that one for days before kobra made him take it off.

they're SOOOOOO physically clingy. like, they can't have a rational conversation without ghoul's arm around kobra's shoulder, their legs tangled, heads knocking against each other, just something. they're always touching in some way, and it pisses poison and jet the fuck off.

^ for a bonus, poison and jet are rarely physically affectionate, their main love language is words of affirmation. every sentence has honey or sweetheart or babe tacked on the end, and they say i love you like every five minutes.

^ also, kobra has a lot of issues verbalizing big important things like 'i love you,' so usually when ghoul says it, he'll give it back in morse code. however he can. squeezing ghoul's hand, tapping the small of his back, clicking a pen. ghoul always understands.

a lot of the time, both of them have trouble sleeping. that's why they always sleep so tucked together, pressed so close that you can't tell who's arm is who's. BUT, when that doesn't work for one or both of them, they go out for a mid night joyride. anywhere. sometimes it's just aimlessly around the desert, sometimes they want the thrill of a clap, it doesn't really matter. kobra just drives off, presses his back into ghoul's chest to remind himself that he's still there.

kobra's a really good singer!! i say this specifically because i just wrote a band au, and people always go, oh, killjoys = mcr, so if they're in a band, kobra's the bassist, pois is the singer, jet and ghoul on guitars, but i DISAGREE. to me: kobra would sing, jet would play bass, poison would play guitar, and ghoul would play drums. fight with the wall <3

kobra teaches ghoul to read, because he couldn't for ages, and as much as he likes kobra reading to him, it pisses ghoul the hell off when everyone but him can do stuff.

ghoul is a Hoarder. like, it's bad. kobra has opened their wardrobe multiple times to find old keepsakes stashed away, and whenever they try to go through them, ghoul finds a way to convince kobra they're important.

thanks for the ask! i love speaking funkobra :))

[freeuselandonorris]

hello freeuselandonorris! i’ve asked you for writing advice/ideas a couple of times (POV decisions and something in Nov, can’t remember exactly what it was), and i find your advice so helpful (/srs) so i hope it’s not annoying i’m asking again lol.

i find i can only write when i have extreme motivation, like an idea literally possesses my brain and the words almost write themselves - gonna out myself here, the last thing i wrote was the water inflation fic i appropriated from you; it just took over my mind and i wrote/edited it in like two days (though the speed is for sure because the entire plot was essentially your idea lol).

basically, i have lots of ideas but it’s hard for me to actually think of scenes in specific, and then i just end up not writing at all. do you have a method for coming up with a progression of a specific scene?

i am doing a horrible job of explaining my q lol so for example, my current wip involves interview panels/youtube collabs etc, but i’m finding it hard to write those because it’s so different from anything i’ve tried writing before. what do you do in those kinds of cases?

sorry for the ramble and if this makes no sense, love u 😭

hiiii lovely anon (or semi-anon lmao) you are not annoying in the SLIGHTEST, i love talking about stuff like this and it makes me really fucking happy to know that my self-indulgent rambling about writing is occasionally helpful to read ❤️

SO. i have two pieces of advice on this one, speaking from my own experience because for a very long time i was also like this and would write in fits and starts and felt very like i had to ~wait for the muses to bless me~. it’s actually something i was taught at a writing course i took years ago now and it sounds so blah and obvious when you first read it but if you stick with it, it works. BRIEF DAILY SESSIONS.

aka, you write a tiny little bit every day. if you can’t commit to every day, say five days a week (but every day is better). i do NOT mean write 1000 words a day or spend three hours doing it or freak yourself out or beat yourself up or abandon your social life or your responsibilities! the idea is you just pick a time that feels feasible (i started off with 15 minutes a day and i think this works well) and you commit to doing that every day. it doesn’t have to be anything good. it can be 15 minutes of you describing lando’s eyelashes in minute detail. it can be 15 minutes of notes for a plotline. it can be 15 minutes of dialogue you KNOW is shit and wooden and will be getting deleted the minute you get to the edit stage. doesn’t matter. just do your 15 minutes.

what this does is it breaks the hold your brain has on this idea of “oh no i have to be INSPIRED before i can possibly think of writing”. at my course they compared it to musicians practising scales, or athletes doing training. we could think of it like drivers doing their sim runs. they don’t just turn up on a race weekend and expect to be great, they have to keep their eye in.

side note: it’ll feel horrible at first, you’ll hate it and resent it and everything you write will feel awful. stick with it. if you miss a day, it doesn’t matter, you haven’t failed, just start again tomorrow. if you miss a week, you haven’t failed, start again tomorrow.

this is more of a long-term thing, so for your specific piece and the issue you mention about progressing a scene, the way i get around this is to start by writing the bit(s) i CAN imagine. so for instance here, you’d write one interview scene, or one youtube collab scene. even if it’s just a little bit of dialogue, or a couple of paragraphs of like, oh i can see oscar rolling his eyes and lando sees it and gets annoyed but he can’t say anything because there are cameras on them… or whatever. just write that bit. then leave a blank space in the gdoc and write the next bit. don’t worry about the order or anything.

once you’ve written all the little bits you can think of, read them through and you might be able to see links between them, like — oh that bit could follow on from this bit up here, or these two bits could kind of go together. reorganise stuff a bit, chop it up, get rid of anything that doesn’t work (copy it into another document called ‘cutting room floor’ if you don’t want to fully get rid).

THEN write yourself some notes. go through your bits and bobs and in between them, just write stuff like [SOMEHOW THEY GET FROM THE FILMING TO THE HOTEL ROOM???]. don’t just write [SOMETHING HAPPENS HERE], you need to give yourself little breadcrumbs to follow. so like there you go, okay, so they need to be in a car or a lift or some sort of transitional space (you see these crop up a lot in my fics — lifts, hallways in hotels, the backs of taxis). or if they’ve started off talking about one thing and you want them talking about this other thing by the end of the scene, write [THEY CONTINUE TALKING ABOUT LUNCH UNTIL IT GETS AWKWARD AND THEN THEY SOMEHOW END UP TALKING ABOUT OSCAR’S CHILDHOOD]. okay, so it got awkward. how did it get awkward? write that bit. what happens after it’s awkward? does lando double down or try to gloss over it? write that bit. how does oscar react to that? write that bit. etc.

in essence, don’t try to see the entire thing at once because you’ll paralyse yourself. give yourself a direction to aim in, and a place to start, and then just focus on the next bit until you get from A to B.

and if all else fails, find a nice pithy line to end the scene on, use an asterisk scene break and start again somewhere else 🤷

SORRY THIS IS SO LONG i really hope i didn’t bore the hell out of everyone afkjeskfjkldsj but yes THANK YOU AGAIN and i hope this is useful in some way!! you can do it i know ittttt