#idk it's just something I've been thinking about

[bucketbueckers]

mess me up - paige bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 6.1k content warnings: language, abuse of italics, grammatically incorrect past tense flashback, smut robbery(?), pretty mature but nothing graphic synopsis: your friends invited you out to a frat party to celebrate the men’s team winning the NCAA tournament where you bump into paige bueckers, the girl who you're in love with and who you ghosted for a month after hooking up with her. a much-needed conversation at the party forces you to revisit difficult memories and give her the closure she’s been seeking. notes: idk what this is! based loosely off of 'friends' and 'mess me up' by chase atlantic. unfortunately the smut robbery line is for real, like it's smut in the way lacroix tastes like real fruit (which is to say it's not smut, but like concepts of smut... 😝 (i've never had lacroix idk if this is accurate)) side note i hate writing in past tense but doing a traditional flashback scene is corny as hell! idk if it matters but this is set april 2024 (w/ a february 2024 flashback); doesn't really affect anything, so... anyway, second post on tumblr, lmk if we're rocking w it 🙂‍↕️

For the record, you didn’t want to come to this party.

It’s hot, sweaty, loud, and all you can smell is the same brand of men’s cologne and weed. The air is both stale and somehow feels wet and all you can think about is getting back to your apartment so you can shower and go to bed. You had a mock trial bright and early the next morning and your law professor was a stickler for punctuality and presentability – showing up with wrinkled clothes and smelling like a frat party was a sure-fire way to fail, and you had too much riding on your grades to let that happen.

The frat (whose name you’ve already forgotten) was celebrating the NCAA tournament win for the UCONN men’s basketball team. They’d apparently gone back to back, which you guess is cool, but you swore off basketball a long time ago. If you had your way, you’d be at home, three steps into your skincare routine, but you let peer pressure get the best of you and allowed your friends to drag you out.

It’d be fun, they said. You never come out with us! You’re spending all this tuition money and you’re not even taking advantage of it. How can you say you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it?

You only remember that your friends are law students, too, in the most unfortunate of moments when they put their persuasiveness to the test. In the most unfortunate of moments, you’re also reminded of the fact that they’re college students, too, because they’re leaving you at the door and rushing off to find something to drink. You weren’t upset they dragged you out. Not necessarily. You were grown enough to say no. Perhaps you’d simply set your expectations too high when they begged you to come out and you thought they would spend at least a little bit of time with you before doing their own thing. But sure. It’s whatever.

So, here you are – standing alone in the corner of a frat party, watching as drunk college students grind against each other, laugh, and have a good time. A part of you feels like you’re missing out, but as you watch somebody throw up into a plant, you feel like you’re just fine where you are.

You’re drawn from your thoughts when a man wearing a backwards cap suddenly shows up next to you. “Yo, you thirsty?” he yells over the music, thrusting a red solo cup into your empty hands. You don’t have the time to say anything to him before he’s grinning at you, eyes red and hooded. “Come dance with me. You’re too pretty to be standin’ here all alone.”

You hear her before you see her.

“She’s good, bro, trust,” Paige interrupts smoothly, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders. You feel too much like a damsel in distress, but sensing the gravity of the situation, you flash the guy a light smile and lean into Paige slightly. Her grip tightens. You try to not let it bother you.

He raises his hands, surrendering. “My bad. You got it.”

Paige hums, unconvinced, as he leaves. When he’s out of your sight, you wrench yourself out of her grip. “Thank you, but not necessary,” you tell her sharply, red solo cup still in your hand. If this was how your night was going to go, then you need to be a little tipsy to survive it. You barely have it halfway to your mouth before Paige is pulling it out of your grasp, pouring its contents into a potted plant and chucking the cup into a nearby trash can. “What the fu–”

“First of all,” she begins, arms crossing protectively, “never accept a drink at a party that you didn’t pour, didn’t see someone else pour, or a drink that’s already open; matter fact, don’t accept a drink unless you opened it or brought it in yourself.”

You roll your eyes slightly. “This is Storrs, Paige. Do the frats really get down like that here?”

Her gaze is unimpressed. “You’re the law student, ma, you tell me the numbers. Second of all, you’re welcome. That was Kylin. He doesn’t take no for an answer in the first place but he’s all kinds of fucked up right now. I’d say I did you a favor but I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”

“Funny,” you deadpan. “Here? Now?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks you, ignoring your snippy words. “Thought this wasn’t your scene.”

You pause. “It’s not,” you confirm. “Jos and Chelsea wanted me to come out. Figured I should be a good friend once in a while.”

Paige raises a brow. “Jos and Chelsea are too busy playing strip poker with dudes from Kappa Phi to keep an eye on you, and you’re worried about having to be a good friend?”

“First of all,” you say in the know-it-all tone that Paige had used on you, “I don’t need them to keep an eye on me.” The blonde hums again, not entirely convinced, and the heat of her gaze makes you stumble over your words slightly. “Second of all, why do you even care?”

“We’re friends,” she states.

“We were once,” you correct, voice softening. It’s no secret that you and Paige had fucked up whatever you had going on. It’s never been clear whose fault your fallout was (it was yours), nor could the two of you ever agree on what destroyed you (you would argue that you shouldn’t hook up with your friends, especially not the ones you were in love with). It was a messy situation that you were sure the two of you couldn’t recover from (you didn’t want to be friends with someone you couldn’t have; Paige just wants you to give her the chance to prove you otherwise).

“Sure,” she agrees half-heartedly, knowing your spiel by heart now. “Kinda fucked up you think I need a reason to care.” You don’t dignify that with a proper response, feeling something strangely like guilt corroding your heart. “Come outside and get some air with me? Please? Just wanna talk, no funny shit, I promise.”

You sigh, feeling yourself fall back into all too familiar routines. You had a near inability to say no to Paige most times – it was the reason why you had to put a stop to your friendship. And here you are now, undoing all of the progress you’ve made since you’ve been apart (a small part of you knows better; you’re moving forward but you’re not really doing any better. You’re not progressing. You’re just stuck now, only this time, you have less than you did before). “Jos and Chelsea–”

“–made their choice,” she finishes for you. “And their choice was strip poker with a guy named Anthony,” she adds solemnly. You can’t help but quirk a smile at the absurdity of your life right now. “C’mon, please? It fucking reeks in here. They’ve got a porch swing outside and it’s all quiet and shit.”

“You’ve always had a way with words,” you tease.

“You comin’ or nah?” she asks, but you shove her forward (she lets you) and she leads you through the crowd to the door. They part like the Red Sea and you can’t help but admire the way she silently commands the room, feeling a flutter in your chest you try desperately to stomp out. It’s like a fire; all it takes is a small spark before it eventually grows out of proportion. You know better now.

The door shuts behind the two of you and you sit on the porch swing. You can still hear the music’s pounding bass, but it’s muted. You feel like you can hear your thoughts now. The tension in your shoulders eases as you take in the crisp night air, the crickets’ chirps, the occasional owl’s hoot. For a moment, you forget all of the complicated history between you and Paige; the way she held your hand as she kissed up your thigh, the way she stayed afterwards, cleaning you up and bringing you water. It almost seems as Paige is reliving all of it, too, as she looks at you, and that thought is sobering enough to bring you back to the moment.

You finally get a good look at what she’s wearing. It’s nothing outstanding; a gray Nike tech suit and a pair of dunks, although she’s opted to leave her jacket unzipped, revealing the crop top underneath. She’s dressed for comfort, though the most unfair part of it all is how good she looks when she’s not trying. Her cheekbones are sharp, eyes blue and wide and alert, and you can’t help but notice how fitting a slick-back bun is on her.

This was precisely why you needed your space. You couldn’t control your thoughts or feelings. It was manageable when you minded your business – the phrase out of sight, out of mind did wonders for you and you were usually busy enough that she only crossed your mind once or twice a week when the student population was buzzing about a recent game. But now? Now you’re fucked. You’re inches away from her and you’ve allowed her to pull you back into her orbit. She’s the Earth and you’re a meteor – any closer and you won’t be able to come back from the damage you would do to each other. She would survive, you’re sure, but you’d be destroyed in the process.

“So,” she says slowly. You avert your eyes, staring at anything but her. “How you been?”

“Good,” you lie. “Keeping busy.” That part was less of a lie, but it wasn’t her business to know.

Paige has always been good at reading you, so she gazes at you like she’s not convinced. “I think we’re overdue a conversation,” she says, surprising you. “A real one. No more of this running in circles bullshit.”

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly. You finally meet her eyes. They’re strikingly blue, disarming, and you feel an odd mixture of guilt and longing eat away at your insides. She looks like she’s drinking you in, like she’s trying to understand why you did what you did; her eyes soften in the dim glow of the porchlight and you can’t help but flush under her gaze. She always understands you in spite of how often you push her away – she seems to understand why you keep her at arm’s length, too, and it’s then that you fully understand how overwhelming it is to be known.

“Why did you leave?” she asks finally. You have to swallow back the bile in your throat. “The morning after.” Her clarification does nothing to soothe the turmoil in your stomach. “I thought…” Paige’s throat bobs as she tries to find the words. “It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me. So why did you leave like that shit ain’t matter to you?”

That night in February comes back to you in the blur of a memory. You’ve thought about it so often that you could write a play-by-play of it; every single unremarkable detail comes back to you in a flourish of vibrant color – the way the floor felt beneath your feet as Paige guided you into her room, the slight scratch of her nail against the base of your neck as her hands found purchase in your hair. Paige was wrong. It meant something to you, too much to you. You often remind yourself, if it meant that much, why was it easier to run away? Jumping off of a diving board into a pool conceptually means the same thing as jumping off of a cliffside into beach waves; the jump isn’t the hard part, it’s the reminder of the distance between your feet and the surface. Your feelings for Paige are too consuming. It’s easier to not make the jump at all than it is to worry if you’ll be able to come up for air.

She was in high spirits, drunk off of their win against Villanova. They weren’t an opponent you’d typically call home for, but the Huskies were having a tough season with several injured players and a lot of underclassmen. It was close, 67-46; Paige had contributed to a little less than half of their points overall with a solid 31. She was happy, the rest of her team was happy, and she’d begged you to come over to her apartment for the post-game festivities – which was usually games and snacks as they weren’t big on drinking during the season. You’d nearly refused at first. It was supposed to be a small team get-together and you had some work to catch up on. You eventually gave in, like you always do. Paige had flashed her typical, charming smile, looping an arm around your waist, and you were a goner.

The team accepted you like you were one of their own, too. That was new. You didn’t spend as much time with them as you did with Jos and Chelsea, but it felt like you knew them better than you knew Jos and Chelsea, anyway. Ice and KK were two menacing peas in a pod – they were like sisters separated at birth and whenever they were together, something chaotic was bound to happen, but they loved and protected fiercely despite the way they teased each other and the team. Caroline was like the team mother and many of the girls called her such. Nika was intense on the court, but off of it, she was Paige’s twin through and through – they always had something to say to each other and their banter often brought smiles to everyone’s faces. Azzi was sweet and well-loved by the team (and the student population in general). She introduced you to her and Paige’s son Ines, which confused you at first, but Paige threw her arm over your shoulder and assured you that they’re only co-parenting because Carol has enough children and they didn’t want Ines to be a ward of the court. You couldn’t help but smile at that, leaning into Paige – something about the team’s dynamic healed you a little, and Ines joked that Paige went out and got her a stepmom.

You felt the blush creep up your neck as Paige tightened her grip around you slightly. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, son,” Paige had said somberly, pretending to look sad as Azzi rolled her eyes. “Your mother was havin’ an affair–”

“Oh, bullshit!” Azzi cried. The entire room broke out into fits of giggles.

“Now I understand why Paige wifed up a lawyer,” KK said in between laughter. “Tryna get a discount on that divorce, huh?”

The team had tears in their eyes from their excitement – you didn’t have the heart to tell them you were hoping to specialize in civil litigation, so you just laughed along. The conversation continued to flow as games were played. Nika was exceptionally bad at UNO and Paige never let her hear the end of it. You guys only managed to play a couple of rounds before Nika suddenly got good and played a +4, prompting Ice and KK to stack +4s of their own onto it – Paige stared in disbelief for a solid thirty seconds before picking up 12 cards and rage-quitting one turn later when KK skipped her.

“There, there,” you’d said, lips trembling as you tried not to laugh at the look on Paige’s face. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, and she pushed you off her gently, her own lips quirking in amusement. “Show this card game who’s boss.”

“Bro,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she leaned back into the couch, her arm finding home over the back of your shoulders once more. You remember wondering if this is what normal felt like, what finally finding a community was like – you fit in too well with Paige’s teammates and they made you feel at home. Being near Paige made you feel at home. She was talented that way. She had an uncanny ability to make people feel at ease, regaling them with jokes and an endless supply of charm. When you realized you were in love with Paige Bueckers, you weren’t surprised about it. If anything, you might have been a little upset with yourself – you were sure you weren’t the only person she’d drawn in unintentionally, ensnared in a web whose latticework was meticulously shaped like basketball netting.

As the night went on, more and more laughs were shared until the clock reached midnight and many of Paige’s teammates got up to leave. Everyone shared hugs and affectionate goodnights. All of them even looped around to hug you – which was… nice. Paige shared her apartment with Azzi and Aubrey, so they retired to their own rooms after curious glances to you and Paige, still curled up together on the couch.

The apartment was quiet. You could hear the ring of silence as it enveloped the two of you, Paige’s gentle breathing, and the tick of the clock. It was oddly comforting; normally, it would have lulled you into a drowsy state, but you couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of Paige’s body next to yours, the brush of her thumb against your shoulder. Feeling both unmoored and tethered, you shift next to Paige, gathering her attention. “I should go,” you’d whispered. Her thumb halted.

“Stay,” she requested. She tilted her head. Her gaze met yours. You expected her eyes to be half-closed, dim with sleep. The rasp of her voice was attributed to a tone you knew she’d adopt when she was exhausted, but her eyes were wide, alert, dilated, a blue so dark you were sure you almost mistook the sheer want for something else. “Stay,” she murmured again. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you agreed almost breathlessly, feeling her hand squeeze your shoulder gently. “Sure.” She untangles from you and stands from the couch, offering you her hand, and you take it. She led you seamlessly through the dark of her apartment into her bedroom, where she released you long enough to rifle through her drawers, having found you a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt for you to wear to bed. Paige pointed you towards the bathroom. You changed into her clothes. Your fingers had shook with anticipation at the sheer domesticity of it all as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your – her – t-shirt read HOPKINS GIRLS BASKETBALL. It had all felt so different now. You hadn’t been sure at the moment if it terrified you or excited you.

You exited the bathroom to find Paige’s back to you, adjusting the band of a pair of basketball shorts around her hips. Her hair was out of her bun and it cascaded down her back in loose, wavy strands; you’d felt an inexplicable urge to run your fingers through it, to find out if her hair was as soft as it looked. She was wearing a dark black sports bra. The two of you were friends. Granted, you were in love with her, but the sight of her wearing nothing but ball shorts and her Nike bra shouldn’t have done the things it did to you.

“Which side is yours?” you’d asked, mostly to break the silence. You ignored the crack in your voice. Paige paid it no mind as she turned, which forced you to avert your eyes, trying not to glance at her abdominals.

“Don’t matter,” she responded. You watched the way she moved, sitting low on the bed, legs long and stark against the purple of her comfort. “You gettin’ in or what?” You hoped she couldn’t see the flush on your neck. You slid into bed next to her, hoping to maintain some sort of distance, but she refused to let you get too far. She slung her arm over your waist, fingers brushing against your skin where your shirt rode up. Her breath was even against your neck and the heat of her body nearly turned your brain into mush. “This okay?” she asked, tone softer.

“Mhm,” you hummed, afraid to speak or you might fuck up and tell her just how okay it actually was. Paige was just a touchy person, you tried to remind yourself as you felt the tickle of her hair against the nape of your neck. This doesn’t mean anything to her. It was all for naught. It did little to quell the way your heart raced, the way the heat pooled low in your belly.

“You looked good tonight,” she said casually. You tried to stop the goosebumps as they rose on your flesh. “You always do.”

Unable to think of something smart to say, you shifted your body slightly, your fingers splaying over the arm she held tight around your midsection. “Oh, yeah?” Her fingers brushed a little lower on your stomach, grazing the waistband of your shorts.

She hummed an affirmative, pulling you tighter against herself, and you could barely breathe. It was overwhelming in the best way – she was all around you. Physically, you felt as though you were in her skin as she greedily pulled you in. The scent of her was everywhere; the shampoo that seeped into her pillows, the cologne on her neck. Your hair stood on end as her lips brushed almost imperceptibly against the shell of your ear. “‘M glad you came tonight,” she whispered.

You flipped on your side, face-to-face with Paige. Her arm moved enough for you to get situated and once you were, her hand found the small of your back, her palm warm against your skin. You can’t help the way your breath hitched, even as Paige’s eyes seemed to take in the stuttering rise and fall of your chest. Having found some courage, you poked her cheek, drawing her eyes back up to yours. “What are we doing?” you asked finally, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Her brow raised slightly, the dark blue of her gaze illuminated by the streaks of moonlight through her window. “No funny shit, Paige. You touch me like you want me, claim me in front of your friends.” You searched her eyes as she fell silent. “What are we doing?” you repeated, voice firmer.

“I want you,” she confessed after a few heartbeats of contemplation. She leaned in closer to you, your noses nearly brushing, and she continued, “I want you so fucking bad. Don’t wanna do anything you’ont want, but–”

Your lips were on hers before she had the chance to finish. She responded eagerly, one hand firm around your waist as she flipped the both of you over, pulling you to straddle her waist. You leaned down, your chest against hers, hands on each side of her neck. You felt the thundering of her pulse under your fingers. It was stabilizing in a sense – words were one thing, but to feel how badly you’d been able to affect her, too, did wonders for your growing ego. Paige’s hands had found your hips, keeping you pressed against her body.

You parted briefly to catch your breath. Paige’s chest heaved, her lips shiny and swollen. She was hard to look away from. For a moment, you’d wondered if this was worth it. Your heart had raced, beating uncontrollably; it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Everything would change between the two of you. Was one night with Paige worth the risk of losing your friendship? You feel too strongly, too much, overwhelmingly. You’ve been told by an ex or two that you were simply too much. You wouldn’t want to subject Paige to that.

Her right hand met your face, tracing the line of your bottom lip. “You want this?” she asked. Her eyes were blown wide, more pupil than iris, but something about it entranced you. The desire in her eyes had brought fresh heat to your stomach, but coupled with the fact she’d be willing to stop made your heart beat a little faster. She was enough to quell your worries, settling the irregularity of your thoughts. You nodded, leaning down to connect your lips again, but her hand was insistent against your jaw as she held you back. “Words,” she commanded.

You’d barely resisted an eyeroll. “Yes, Paige,” you affirmed. Her hand loosened, eyes searching yours. “Want you.”

Her smile turned smug. “Yeah? How bad?”

The tease sent white-hot desire straight through your body as your hips rolled against hers, trying to find some relief. Her hands fall back down to your waist, helping you rut against her thigh as a shared flush creeped up both of your necks. “You gonna touch me?” you breathed against her lips. Her breath came out a disjointed stutter when you guided her hand to the swell of your ass. It was unnatural – Paige was so sure, so confident. To have her nearly at your mercy was like a drug through your veins, but you didn’t want her there. You wanted Paige fully in control; you wanted her to take care of you, to give you everything you’d fantasized about for months on end. You wanted her so bad it rewired the coding in your brain. There was something about her that broke down all of the walls you spent years building.

Your actions and words had been the only permission she needed. One of her hands gripped the flesh of your ass as the other one cupped the back of your neck. Her nail scratched you inadvertently as she dragged you back down to connect your lips – the slight echo of pain caused you to whine against her lips, a sound she swallowed greedily before she flipped the two of you over once more. Your head fell back against her pillows as she rucked up your shirt, finding that you’d opted to not wear a bra. She groaned indulgently, one large hand coming up to squeeze one of your breasts and her mouth finding the other one.

You ran your fingers through her hair, gripping it tight as she lavished you with attention. “So fuckin’ pretty,” she murmured against you, voice dripping with want. She pressed her knee against your core as she found her way back to your lips, kissing you deeply and drawing another whimper from your parted lips. It sent a jolt through your body. “You gon’ let me do what I want, huh? Get you right?”

“Paige, please,” you begged, all of the shame having left your body as you ground down against her knee, feeling the pleasure and relief simultaneously. “Fuck, do what you want, I don’t care – just please fucking touch me.”

She shushed you, lips back on yours, tongue brushing against your lips like she was trying to take whatever you’d give her. And at that point, you would have given her anything if it meant she’d stop teasing you. “I got you, ma, jus’ relax,” she whispered against your lips. She trailed a blazing path down your chest, leaving hickies as she went. Paige reached the waistband of your shorts; she pressed a sloppy kiss to your navel before bunching her fingers in and pulling them off, throwing them haphazardly into the room.

The air was cold against you. You were breathing heavily by then, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. Her hand untwisted yours from the bedsheets, linking your fingers together, and that touch alone was enough to bring you back down to earth. “I got you,” she promised again, reminding you, pressing diligent kisses against the inside of your thigh. You relaxed ever so slightly against her, feeling as though you could breathe a little easier, but your body was still incredibly high strung. Paige squeezed your hand. Then her mouth was on you, and you were done for.

She held your hand as she went down on you, talking you through it until your orgasm reached its peak and you sunk into the bed bonelessly. She didn’t release you when she came back up, her smile a mix of smugness, pride, and quiet adoration. Paige kissed your knuckles, your cheeks, your lips, drawing a contented sigh out of you. “You good?” she asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, hand cradling your jaw.

Exhausted, all you could do was hum an affirmative. Paige flashed a small smile again, pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling off the bed, much to your surprise. “Lemme get you some water,” she said. “‘M coming right back, I promise.”

You nodded wordlessly, closing your eyes and sinking back into the pillows as your breathing evens out. She left her room, the door shutting with a silent click. In the silence of Paige’s bedroom, curled up in her purple comforter, all you can think about is how the future of your friendship has inexplicably changed forever. She said she wanted you. Did she just mean sexually? Paige was always intentional in her communication, a byproduct of her media training. Tears brimmed your eyes when you considered the idea that you might have just been another Wednesday night fling for her. Here you are again, feeling stupid about the overwhelming feelings you harbored for Paige despite your better judgment. The worst part was that it wasn’t her fault. You got your hopes up.

You wiped your eyes when you heard the door open again. Paige crossed the room, cracking open a cold bottle of water for you and pressing it to your lips. You nearly forgot about your inner turmoil when she smiled at you again, having thrown her hair back up into its bun. “Gonna clean you up, okay?” she informed you. At your nod, she runs a warm washcloth between your thighs, getting rid of the lingering stickiness. She carefully redressed you, squeezing your hips gently, and you’re left feeling so incredibly conflicted that you’re breathless with the anxiety. Paige disposed of the washcloth and curled up next to you in bed once more, an arm wrapping around your midsection. You’d told each other goodnight, but as her breath evens out against your neck, your mind races.

You slept fitfully through the night. And when morning light rolled around, you extracted yourself from Paige’s grip, sliding a pillow into her arms. The nervousness and all of your overthinking thoughts made you queasy with grief. You were in love with Paige Bueckers. That much was true. You were too head over heels for her to return to normalcy; you couldn’t. At that point, it would be easier for you to not be friends with her at all than to pretend like she wasn’t everything you’d ever wanted.

As she slept, you casted one last guilty look over your shoulder and you ran.

But that night in February has long since passed, and on the porch swing on a much warmer night in April, Paige stares at you in desperation, seeking answers to the questions you’ve withheld for over a month. “Why did you leave?” she asks you again. “Fuck, tell me the truth, lie to me, whatever, just please give me something to work with.”

“It was overwhelming,” you finally admit, twisting the rings on your fingers. You feel terrible as you glance at Paige, whose eyes soften when she takes in your expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shoulda seen that something was wrong.”

You close your eyes, lips trembling. You’re touched at how she instantly takes responsibility for your fuck ups, thinking she’s done something wrong. “No, Paige,” you correct her. “Fuck. It wasn’t you. It was never you.” You pick at a loose string on your shorts. She stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “You were so gentle. That night meant everything to me, and that was the problem. I wanted you so bad – Jesus Christ, I was in love with you for months. I don’t do casual. I always feel too strongly and I loved you so much that it was fucking overwhelming. I woke up and nearly lost it because I couldn’t handle the idea of having you like that and having to pretend like I didn’t want you like that forever. It was so much easier to run and not face the possibility of having to be your friend when all I’ve wanted was more.”

When you finally look back to Paige, her eyes are wide with something that looks strangely like grief, like you’ve pulled the rug from under her feet and watched as she fell. As you think about it, that’s probably what you’ve done, anyway. She spent so long thinking that your fallout was her fault, that it was something she’d done, but the ugly truth of the matter was that you were too scared of the way you felt for her that you ran from it instead. Paige runs a frustrated hand over her jaw, her expression nearly unreadable. You frown. “I’m sorry,” you say quietly, knowing that your apology is long overdue. You fucked up so incredibly bad with her. Your brain remembers her prior words, the ‘It wasn’t a hook up. It meant something to me – everything to me,’ and you suddenly feel like an idiot. God, it was mutual this entire time and you were too caught up in yourself to realize it.

“You think too fucking much,” Paige says finally, and you hardly have the time to react before she’s kissing you, her hands gripping your hips. You nearly gasp against her lips before you fully register what’s happening. Sinking into it, you wrap your arms around her neck, feeling suddenly like everything is finally aligning, that all of your blurred focal points sharpen. When she pulls away, her eyes are alight with understanding. “So, lemme get this straight. You pushed me away ‘cause you’re in love with me, then we fucked, and you thought I wouldn’t wife you up?”

You frown, feeling stupid all over again. “Well, when you put it like that…yeah?”

Paige sighs. “Fuck. Look at my lawyer – you’d send dudes to jail left and fucking right ‘cause you jump to conclusions too early. Thank God you’re not going into criminal defense.”

You shove her away from you, feeling the embarrassment bloom on your cheeks. You can’t help but laugh as you say, “You’re an asshole.”

She guffaws, reaching for your hands, intertwining your fingers. “Says you! You ghosted me for a month and let me think I fucked us up. Jesus Christ.” She twists the ring on your finger mindlessly as she searches for the right words. “Okay, lemme be really fucking clear. I’m in love with you, too. Like, I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. There is nobody but you. You aren’t too much for me – I love you for you, no ifs, ands, buts, whys, hows, nothing. I know you thought you were protecting us by pushin’ me away, but you gotta let me make that choice, too. I want this with you, alright? Will you gimme that chance?”

Her words leave the two of you in silence. You can still hear the chirp of the crickets, the thrumming from the party indoors. You can feel the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles, the way her eyes bore into yours, patiently waiting for your decision. But distinctly, you can see the plea, the desperation for you to just give into what she knows the both of you are feeling. Your anxiety and constant overthinking never ruined the two of you. It may have set you back, but you and Paige found your way back to each other. Maybe you’re not a meteor, dangerously crashing into her and disintegrating on impact. Maybe the two of you are something simpler – the moon and the tide. She was never going to let you get hurt if only you’d give her the opportunity to show you that.

So, you take that leap – whether it’s off the diving board into the pool or the cliffside into beach waves, you don’t care. You know now that Paige is waiting for you at the surface. “I want this, too,” you affirm, watching the smile bloom on her face like springtime flowers, and you seal the deal by pressing your lips to hers. She responds eagerly, her arms tight around you. You loathe that it took the two of you this long, that it was your fault for not trusting Paige with your heart when she’s given you no real reason to doubt her; despite this, her lips taste like forgiveness and yours like atonement. In spite of everything, you made it here in the end, and it was worth it.

[starrbar]

I've been furiously wondering about this, like I would LOVE to see all the events that took "Vi died during the job in this version" to basically a perfect Zaun where everyone else is happy.

The only idea I've had so far is that like, Vander has been struggling to keep his people satisfied with the painful status quo he's got the Lanes in because of his refusal to ever fight again. Vander was overcorrecting here because he didn't want anyone else to get killed.

Well, he didn't fight Piltover and one of his daughters still got killed.

Maybe that kind of made him realize that this status quo isn't what will keep his people safe in the end, it can't be maintained forever, and it didn't even protect his family. I dunno if he would have gone back out to search for Silco after this or if Silco would have heard about it and maybe finally approached him instead?

I love the idea of Silco being like, "Well, look at that. You sure are doing a good job keeping everyone safe." Kinda twist the knife because he still never received that letter and he's still hurt over the betrayal, so fuck Vander's feelings, right?

But Vander is like... idk, probably awfully conflicted. Angry and upset ofc, but he doesn't get physical cause he can't possibly regret what he did before only to do something like that again (as in that's what he thinks, so no punching or choking allowed, even if deserved in that moment). Maybe he's even kinda defeated about it or wrapped up in the shock of seeing Silco again since he apparently just never came back?

And they have one of those REALLY juicy, harsh fights that does eventually lead to them making up because at least now they're talking about it. Blurting out years of pent up hurt and pain and dead hopes, in an environment where they're on equal terms instead of Vander needing to focus on begging Silco not to destroy everything.

I love this timeline and I wanna see every speck of it??

also if anyone writes this scene out before I maybe possibly start to consider writing it myself, if anyone posts this, DM it to me, I'll read it in a heartbeat and cry about it. x3

🚨Crack theory🚨 but at first I was confused how Vi's death led to an alternate universe where everything is a utopia. Even if Hextech was never invented it doesnt explain how all the class disparity was solved. And then I realized it was probably this:

Vander and Silco are the only ones who really had a plan for a unified and independent Zaun. My theory: after the accident, Vander went into grief over the death of his daughter and stumbled pathetically into the arms of his ex-twink, finally apologized for trying to kill him that one time, they get back together and solve all poverty with the power of old man yaoi. (Also Silco stops making drugs at some point)

[goldfades]

★ dancing phantoms on the terrace; are they second-hand embarrassed, that i can't get out of bed? cause something counterfeit's dead; it was legendary; it was momentary; it was unnecessary ─── PB⁵

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and paige have always danced around each other—an intricate waltz of unspoken words and fleeting touches, each step pulling you closer to the edge of something you both feared to define. but when your feelings finally bubble over, paige’s silence cuts sharper than anything you could have imagined. in the wake of her denial, you vow to let her go, but it’s hard to sever the bond when she keeps lingering in the corners of your world, drawing you back like gravity. what happens when you can’t be friends, but letting go feels impossible?

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst w/ no happy ending. weird fwb, cheating (kinda?), toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, unhealthy attachment, and cycles of miscommunication and unresolved feelings.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this is lowkey just a word vomit... idk how to feel about it. i've been on an angst kick lately and i'm apologizing for this fic right now, it's EMOTIONALLY DAMAGING. um anyway, don't even ask how i am right now... enjoy?

The gym smells like worn leather and ambition—Paige’s favorite cocktail, if you had to guess. The echo of bouncing basketballs fills the cavernous space, and there she is, effortlessly commanding the court like it’s her birthright. You’d think the sight of her—golden hair slicked back, sharp focus slicing through the room—would dull with time, but it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse.

You don’t mean to stare, but when it’s her, you always do.

“Hey,” her voice cuts through your thoughts, soft but with a rasp that’s always felt like a secret shared just between the two of you. Paige jogs toward you, her smile easy, but her eyes? Complicated. Like she knows. Like she’s always known.

“Hey,” you manage, though your throat feels tight, your body betraying you with a spark of something you’ve tried to douse for months.

She stops just short of you, close enough that you can smell the faint citrus of her shampoo. “Thought you were too busy to come by anymore.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool, but the weight of her gaze makes it impossible. “I’m not staying long. Just… passing through.”

It’s a lie. You’ve never been able to just pass through when it comes to her.

Paige grins, wiping sweat from her brow with the hem of her jersey. It’s a fleeting movement, but it leaves your pulse racing, and you hate yourself for it. She doesn’t notice—or maybe she does, and that’s worse.

“You’re a bad liar,” she says, her tone teasing but gentle. She tilts her head, like she’s reading something written on your face. “You okay?”

It’s such a simple question, but the weight of it threatens to shatter your resolve.

“I’m fine,” you say too quickly. Too sharply.

Her brows knit together, but she doesn’t push. Paige never pushes. It’s you who always falls, silently hoping she’ll be there to catch you.

But you’re tired of hoping.

“I should go,” you mutter, turning before the cracks in your chest start to show. But her hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait.”

It’s a single word, but it roots you in place, her touch burning like truth against your skin. You turn back to her, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breath and the ache of everything you’ll never say.

And Paige, looking at you like she wants to say it too.

SIX MONTHS AGO

The party was already half a blur when Paige walked in, but her presence made everything snap into focus. You hadn’t been looking for her—you’d told yourself you wouldn’t—but there she was, a magnet pulling every molecule of you in her direction. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion like everyone else, no glittering dresses or expensive heels. Just a hoodie, sneakers, and that disarming grin.

You were nursing a drink, not for the taste, but for the illusion of control. People were scattered across the house in little clusters, and you were tucked into a corner of the living room, balancing somewhere between tipsy and regretfully sober. That is, until Paige caught sight of you.

Her gaze found you through the crowd like it was the easiest thing in the world, and you felt it—really felt it. That invisible thread between the two of you, taut and unyielding.

“Hey, stranger.” Her voice carried over the low hum of music and chatter as she slid into the empty space beside you on the couch.

You laughed softly, but it came out more nervous than amused. “Stranger? I didn’t know you even remembered my name.”

She tilted her head, her grin shifting into something softer. “I remember a lot more than that.”

The comment shouldn’t have sent a shiver down your spine, but it did. Paige had a way of saying things like they were just words when they were anything but.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you admitted, your fingers tightening around the red Solo cup in your hand.

“Yeah, well…” Paige’s eyes dropped to your drink before returning to your face, and it made you feel naked somehow. “Needed a break. Thought I’d find you.”

Thought I’d find you.

The words hung in the air, charged, and you couldn’t tell if she was teasing or telling the truth. Maybe both.

The night blurred after that, the two of you falling into a rhythm that felt far too natural for how often you tried to keep your distance. Drinks were passed back and forth, jokes were made, her laughter melted into yours. Every time her knee brushed yours, your pulse spiked. Every time her fingers lingered on your arm, your stomach flipped.

At one point, someone turned up the music, and people started dancing in the center of the room. You didn’t want to, but Paige grabbed your hand, her touch electrifying. “C’mon,” she coaxed, her eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

You followed, of course.

The two of you didn’t so much dance as sway, caught in your own little bubble amidst the chaos. Her hands found your hips, and she pulled you closer, so close you could smell the faint tang of beer on her breath. The way she looked at you—dark, intent, unflinching—made the air between you too thick to breathe.

“Having fun yet?” she asked, her voice low.

You nodded, though fun wasn’t the word for what you were feeling. It was something else entirely.

“Good,” she murmured, leaning in. Her lips brushed your ear as she spoke, sending a shiver through your entire body. “’Cause you deserve it.”

When you pulled back to meet her gaze, you saw it: the crack in her armor. That small, fleeting look of hesitation before she leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t shy. Paige kissed you like she’d been holding back for years, and maybe she had. Your drink slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your fingers found their way into her hair. The rest of the world vanished, the party, the music, the people. There was only her—her lips, her hands, the heat of her against you.

Somehow, the two of you stumbled your way upstairs, her hand firmly gripping yours as she led you to a bedroom. The door clicked shut behind you, and suddenly it was just the two of you, no distractions, no pretense.

You shouldn’t have let it happen, but you did. And it wasn’t just the alcohol, wasn’t just the heat of the moment. It was years of longing packed into a single night.

When it was over, you lay tangled together, the glow of the moon casting soft light across her face. Paige was quiet, her fingers drawing absent patterns on your bare shoulder. You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat.

“I can’t do this,” she finally whispered, her voice breaking the fragile silence.

Your chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

She turned to face you, and the conflict in her eyes was enough to make your heart ache. “I’m… I’m trying to focus on basketball. This—us—it’s too much.”

Her words felt like a slap, but the way she looked at you—regretful, hesitant, almost desperate—kept you from walking out right then and there. Instead, you forced a nod. “Okay.”

“But—” she added quickly, her hand finding yours, “this doesn’t have to be it. We can figure something out. Later.”

It was a promise she had no right to make, and deep down, you knew that. But when she kissed you again, softer this time, you let yourself believe it.

That was the beginning of the end.

Paige had a way of engulfing your life without even trying, and the worst part was, you let her. She wasn’t yours—you weren’t hers—but she consumed you, seeped into the quiet corners of your world until there wasn’t a part of you she hadn’t touched.

She made it look so easy, too. Like you were the one complicating things.

Every time you tried to pull away, she’d reel you back in with a text, a glance, a late-night phone call that started with “I was just thinking about you.” It was never enough to feel like a relationship, but it was always just enough to keep you tethered to her.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need a label, that you could handle the messiness of it all. But then you’d see her with someone else at a party, her arm slung around a teammate’s shoulders, her laughter spilling over like champagne, and it’d feel like your chest was being hollowed out with a dull spoon.

Still, you stayed.

You stayed because of the way she looked at you when no one else was around, like you were the only person in the world who mattered. You stayed because of the fleeting moments when she let her guard down, her fingers lingering on yours a second too long, her voice soft when she whispered your name.

And you stayed because of the promises.

“I just need time,” she’d say, her hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You understand, right?”

And you’d nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, because of course you understood. What else could you do? Tell her no? Walk away? The thought of losing her entirely was worse than the slow, aching heartbreak of being caught in her orbit.

But it was exhausting, being held at arm’s length while she continued to live her life exactly the way she wanted.

There were nights when she’d come over, late and unannounced, her hair still damp from the shower after a long practice. She’d climb into your bed, curling into your side like it was the most natural thing in the world, her hand slipping under your shirt to rest against your stomach.

“I missed you,” she’d murmur, her voice drowsy.

And for those moments, you’d believe her. You’d let yourself believe that she meant it, that maybe this time things would be different.

But the mornings always came.

She’d wake before you, slipping out of your bed as quietly as she’d slipped in. By the time you stirred, she’d be gone, her spot cold, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering on your pillow. She never left a note, never sent a text. You’d see her later that day, laughing with someone else, like the night before had been nothing more than a shared dream.

It wasn’t fair. You knew that. But Paige wasn’t the kind of person who played fair, at least not when it came to this. She played basketball like her life depended on it, with precision and purpose, but with you? She was reckless, careless, and sometimes it felt like she didn’t even realize it.

“You’re overthinking it,” she’d say when you finally mustered the courage to confront her, her tone light, dismissive. “We’re good, aren’t we?”

And every time, you’d cave. You’d tell her what she wanted to hear, because the alternative—calling her out, forcing her to make a choice—felt too dangerous.

So you kept waiting.

For the next stolen moment, the next broken promise, the next time she’d pull you in and push you away all over again.

It was a slow unraveling, and you didn’t know how much more you could take. But as much as you hated yourself for it, you knew one thing for sure:

You’d keep waiting. For her love. For her to choose you. For something you were terrified might never come.

The gym was cavernous, every dribble of the ball echoing like a drumbeat in your skull as you stormed in. You didn’t stop to think. Logic and restraint had abandoned you the second you saw the picture. Paige, her hands on someone else’s waist, her lips pressed to theirs in a way that made your stomach churn.

Her laugh was unmistakable even above the squeak of sneakers and the occasional shout from her teammates. It grated on you now, sharp and mocking. She didn’t see you at first. She was mid-layup, her ponytail flying behind her, the sweat on her brow catching the fluorescent lights. The picture was still fresh on your phone, the brightness of the screen almost taunting you.

You didn’t care who was watching.

“Paige!” you barked, your voice cutting through the gym’s rhythm like a knife.

The ball thudded against the floor, rolling away as she froze mid-turn. The laughter stopped. Heads turned.

Her eyes found yours, widening slightly before narrowing. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face—then something else. Panic? Regret? It didn’t matter.

She jogged over, wiping her hands on her shorts. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, keeping her voice low.

“What am I doing here?” Your laugh was humorless, loud enough for the whole team to hear. “What the hell are you doing, Paige?”

“Let’s talk outside.” Her voice was tight now, her eyes darting toward her teammates, who were whispering among themselves.

You ignored the way she grabbed your arm, the way her fingers pressed a little too hard against your skin as she dragged you toward the double doors. The moment you were outside, the cold air slapping your face, you yanked yourself free.

“I saw the picture,” you snapped.

“What picture?” Her face was the picture of practiced innocence, but her tone was wary.

“Don’t play dumb, Paige. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You were kissing her!”

Her jaw tightened, and her eyes flicked away for just a second—long enough for you to catch it. “It’s not what you think,” she said, her voice measured, like she was trying to calm a storm.

“Not what I think?” You could feel the heat rising in your chest, your hands trembling. “You had your hands all over her. What is there to think, Paige?”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

“A bigger deal? Are you serious?” Your voice cracked, the anger spilling over, loud and raw. “You told me—no, you promised me—you weren’t seeing anyone else!”

“I’m not,” she shot back, her own voice rising now. “It was just a stupid kiss, alright? It didn’t mean anything.”

Your laugh was bitter, cutting. “It didn’t mean anything? Do you even hear yourself? You think that makes it better?”

Her frustration boiled over, her hands running through her hair as she paced a tight circle. “You’re acting like we’re in some committed relationship or something!”

The words hit you like a slap, your chest tightening as your breath caught. “So, what? This—us—it’s just nothing to you?”

“I didn’t say that!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the empty hallway. Her eyes blazed as she stepped closer, her finger pointing at you. “But you keep pushing me, and I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I want you to stop messing with my head!” Your voice cracked, raw and thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “You can’t keep pulling me in and then acting like I don’t exist whenever it’s convenient for you, Paige!”

She blinked, the words hitting her harder than you expected. For a moment, the anger on her face faltered, replaced by something softer, something you’d almost call guilt.

But just as quickly, her defenses snapped back into place. “I told you I needed space,” she said, her voice quieter but still edged with steel. “I told you from the start this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Easy?” You shook your head, a humorless laugh bubbling up. “No, Paige, this isn’t hard—it’s cruel. You’re cruel.”

Her face fell, the anger draining from her expression. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

But the words felt hollow, like a script she’d practiced too many times. Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms, trying to anchor yourself in something, anything, besides the spiraling frustration.

“Yeah?” Your voice was low, trembling under the weight of restrained fury. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, Paige, but you knew. You knew how I felt—how I feel—and you kissed her anyway.”

Her eyes darted away, lips pressed into a tight line. “I told you this wasn’t... I told you I didn’t want anything serious.”

You laughed, sharp and bitter, the sound bouncing off the cold concrete walls. “No, you didn’t want anything serious, but you didn’t want to let me go either. You wanted me close enough to have whenever you felt like it, but not so close that you had to be accountable for it.”

“That’s not fair,” she snapped, her voice cutting through your words. She squared her shoulders, looking at you like you were the unreasonable one, like this was all spiraling because you couldn’t control your emotions. “You’re acting like I’m the bad guy when you’re the one who stormed into my practice and made a scene.”

“A scene?” Your voice rose, the sharp edge of disbelief slicing through the tension. “You kissed someone else, Paige. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just sit at home, pretend it didn’t happen, and wait for you to toss me a few scraps of affection when it’s convenient?”

“That’s not what this is!” she shouted, the crack in her voice betraying her frustration. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, alright? I didn’t plan it! God, why can’t you just trust me?”

“Trust you?” The words tore from you, laced with incredulity. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you when you do things like this and then try to make me feel crazy for reacting?”

“I’m not making you feel crazy!” she fired back, but the flicker of guilt in her eyes betrayed her. She stepped closer, her hands gesturing wildly as if she could will you to calm down. “I just... I didn’t think this would turn into... into this.”

“This?” Your voice broke, the vulnerability slipping through the cracks in your anger. “Paige, I let you have all of me. You knew that, and you’re acting like I’m the one who crossed a line.”

Her face softened for a split second, and you saw the Paige you thought you knew, the one who made you laugh so hard you cried, the one who looked at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.

But then she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t ask for this to get so complicated,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“Complicated?” The word fell from your lips like venom. “You made it complicated. You wanted me enough to keep me on a leash, but not enough to—”

“Stop,” she cut you off, her voice sharp. “Just stop. You’re spiraling, and you’re putting all of this on me like you don’t have a choice in any of it.”

The sheer audacity of her words made your chest tighten, heat flooding your face. “A choice? Paige, I chose you. I keep choosing you, even when it hurts.”

For a moment, you thought she might say something—an apology, an admission, anything to make this feel less like a freefall. Instead, she just stepped closer, her voice softening. “You’re overthinking this. You always do.”

Your body went rigid, the casual dismissal slicing through you like a blade. “Don’t do that,” you warned, your voice trembling. “Don’t make this about me being too much.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, her tone too smooth, too rehearsed. “I’m just saying... maybe we’re both a little out of line here.”

“Out of line?” You scoffed, the hurt morphing back into anger, fueling the fire between you. “You kissed someone else, and I’m out of line for calling you out on it?”

Her jaw clenched, her shoulders squaring as her frustration boiled over. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I’ll never do it again? Because I can’t promise that, alright? I can’t promise to be someone I’m not!”

The admission knocked the wind out of you, the raw honesty of it cutting deeper than any excuse ever could. You stared at her, your heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

And then, without thinking, you grabbed her face and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft or tender—it was a collision of lips and teeth, anger and desperation crashing together in a way that felt like drowning and breathing at the same time.

She didn’t hesitate. Her hands found your waist, pulling you closer, her frustration melting into something else entirely. For a moment, the world disappeared—the hurt, the anger, the confusion—and all that was left was her, her lips moving against yours like she was trying to prove something, to take back control.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Her lips brushed yours again, softer this time, almost apologetic. “I know,” she murmured.

But it didn’t stop her, or you, from letting it happen again. And again. And again.

This was the beginning of a vicious style. Paige would do something — something reckless or selfish or dismissive, something that cracked the fragile balance you were barely holding together. You would crash out, spinning into anger or heartbreak or desperation. Then, when the storm was at its peak, you’d collide in a mess of kisses and tangled limbs, pretending the hurt didn’t exist. And for a little while, it would work.

Rinse, repeat.

It was like a drug. The highs were euphoric — the way she’d whisper your name in the dark, the way her hands knew the map of your body like they’d been there a thousand lifetimes. But the lows were brutal. Paige wasn’t just in your life; she engulfed it. Even when she wasn’t physically there, she was everywhere — in your thoughts, in your chest, in the hollow ache that came from wanting more than she would ever give.

And yet, every time you told yourself this was the last time, she’d reel you back in.

It was always the same. She’d make promises she couldn’t keep. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I don’t want to lose you. They were just words, fragile and insubstantial, but you clung to them like a lifeline. Because even if Paige didn’t love you the way you needed her to, she made you feel.

But feelings weren’t enough. Not when the cycle kept repeating, each round leaving you a little more frayed, a little less whole.

Looking back, you didn’t see it at first. How could you? In those early days, it all still felt new, like you were learning each other in ways no one else ever had. The tension, the passion, even the arguments — it all felt alive.

But what you didn’t know then was that this wasn’t building toward something better. It wasn’t growth or healing or progress. It was just a loop, and the more you gave, the more it took.

And it all started here — in a practice gym with her teammates staring after you, with a kiss that should have been an apology but felt more like a warning.

This was how it was going to be. You just didn’t know it yet.

It was over long before she said it. That was the truth you’d been carrying for weeks, maybe even months, like a stone in your chest. The late nights tangled together, the whispered promises that never quite landed, the explosive fights that burned hot and fast — they were all just delaying the inevitable.

Paige didn’t love you. Not the way you loved her.

And even though you’d told yourself a hundred times that you’d walk away first, that you’d save yourself the heartbreak, there was a part of you that had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for her to finally say the words so you wouldn’t have to.

When she said them, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hair messy and her lips still swollen from the argument-turned-kiss that had just played out like a broken record. Her voice was quiet, careful, like she thought if she said it gently enough, it wouldn’t hurt.

“I think we should just stay friends.”

Friends. As if that word hadn’t already been stretched beyond recognition between the two of you.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t yell. You didn’t say anything at all. You just nodded, a single dip of your head that felt like letting go of a thousand unspoken words.

Because by then, you were too tired to argue. Too numb to care. You’d given everything you had to Paige Bueckers — your heart, your time, your trust. And in the end, she’d left you with nothing but empty promises and the ache of what could have been.

She watched you, her expression unreadable, maybe expecting a reaction. But there was nothing left to give. No anger, no tears, not even the kind of hope that had once kept you tethered to her.

And that’s when you knew.

It had been over long before it was over.

The first few days after Paige walked away, you told yourself you were fine. Numbness had a way of masquerading as strength, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you believed it. You went about your routine mechanically, ignoring the ghost of her laugh that seemed to echo in every corner of your mind, or the phantom sensation of her fingertips trailing down your skin.

But it didn’t last.

The cracks began to show in the quiet moments, the ones you couldn’t fill with distractions. You’d see her everywhere — not in person, but in the lingering memories that clung to every inch of your life. The way she used to leave her hoodie draped over your chair. The playlist she made you that now sat like a ticking time bomb on your phone. Even the way the air smelled after it rained reminded you of her, of those late-night walks when the world felt small and it was just the two of you against everything.

Now, it was just you.

The nights were the worst. That was when the realization hit hardest, settling in your chest like a lead weight. She wasn’t coming back. And not only that, she seemed fine. Perfectly fine without you.

Social media became your own personal form of torture. Paige smiling with her teammates, Paige at practice, Paige at a party with her arm slung casually around someone else’s shoulders. She looked radiant, unbothered. And why wouldn’t she be? You were the one left unraveling, trying to pick up the pieces of something that had already been broken long before it officially ended.

You tried to bury yourself in distractions, in work, in friends, in anything that could occupy the space she used to fill. But nothing worked. Everywhere you turned, there she was, in your mind, in your heart, like she had embedded herself into the very fabric of your being.

The worst part was the silence. Paige hadn’t reached out — not once. Not to check on you, not to see if you were okay, not even to pretend that she cared. She had moved on seamlessly, like you were just a chapter she had finished reading. But you? You were stuck. Stuck rereading the same lines over and over, trying to figure out where it all went so wrong.

You hated her for it. And you hated yourself more for still wanting her, for craving the sound of her voice even when it was the last thing you should want to hear.

Sleep became elusive. You’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every argument, every kiss, every unspoken promise. Your mind refused to let go, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. But deep down, you knew better. Paige had already moved on. And she wasn’t coming back.

It was a cruel kind of clarity, realizing how little you seemed to matter to her now. While you were drowning, she was breathing just fine.

And so, you began to sink. Not all at once, but slowly, steadily, as the days turned into weeks and the weight of her absence pressed down on you. You stopped checking your phone, stopped looking at her social media, stopped pretending you were okay. Because you weren’t. You were a mess, and she was gone, and there was no fixing what had been broken.

For the first time, you understood what it meant to lose yourself in someone. Paige had taken pieces of you when she left, pieces you weren’t sure you’d ever get back. And as much as you hated it, as much as you hated her for making you feel this way, you couldn’t deny the truth.

You still loved her. And that was the hardest part of all.

The first time you saw the picture, it felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Paige stood there, her arm draped casually over a girl you didn’t recognize, her smile so effortlessly carefree it made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just the picture—it was what it represented.

She wasn’t hiding anymore.

For months, you had clung to the idea that Paige’s reluctance to be with you had been about timing, about her career, about her focus on basketball. You’d told yourself over and over that it wasn’t about you—that she wasn’t ready for anything, not just you. But seeing her like this, so at ease, so perfectly content in someone else’s arms, shattered that illusion into a thousand irreparable pieces.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t ready. She just didn’t want you.

The realization hit you harder than any of the fights, any of the cold silences, any of the times she had pushed you away only to pull you back in. This was different. This was final. And it sent you crashing in a way you hadn’t thought possible.

The next few days passed in a haze. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, to sleep, to function like a normal person. Every time you closed your eyes, the image of her with that girl played on a loop in your mind. Her hand resting on her shoulder. The easy grin that you used to think was just for you. The sickening thought that this new girl got the version of Paige you’d always wanted but could never have.

Your friends tried to help. They texted, called, even showed up at your apartment uninvited, but nothing seemed to pull you out of the spiral. You were stuck, trapped in the memories of what could have been, haunted by the ghost of what never was.

And Paige? She was fine. She was more than fine. While you were unraveling, she was out there, living her life like nothing had happened, like you had never happened.

It wasn’t fair.

You replayed every moment in your head, dissecting every word, every touch, every promise she had made and broken. You thought about the nights she’d held you, the mornings when she’d whispered things you now realized she didn’t mean. You thought about the times she’d called you "important," like that word was supposed to mean something, like it was enough to keep you tethered to her while she gave you nothing in return.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. Not just at Paige, but at yourself. How had you let it get this far? How had you let her take so much of you, only to leave you with nothing?

But even as the anger simmered beneath the surface, it couldn’t erase the pain. Because no matter how much she hurt you, no matter how many times she let you down, a part of you still wanted her. You hated yourself for it, but it was the truth.

She was the love of your life—or at least, that’s what you had convinced yourself. And now, as you watched her move on so effortlessly, it felt like you had lost not just her, but a part of yourself.

You thought about the nights you’d spent together, the dreams you’d secretly dared to have, the way she had made you feel like the center of her universe, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You thought about the way she’d look at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the room, and you wondered if she ever looked at her new girlfriend like that.

The jealousy burned, but it was nothing compared to the ache of knowing you weren’t enough.

And that was the hardest part. Not the fights, not the breakups, not even seeing her with someone else. The hardest part was realizing that no matter how much you loved her, it was never going to be enough. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

But you still saw her everywhere. In the songs that played on the radio. In the basketball games you couldn’t bring yourself to watch anymore. In the small, stupid things that reminded you of her—like the way she used to steal the last piece of pizza or the way she’d hum under her breath when she thought no one was listening.

You wanted to hate her, to erase her from your mind and move on with your life. But how could you hate the person who had been your everything, even if only for a little while?

So you sat with the pain, let it wash over you like a tidal wave, drowning in the memories of a love that had never really been yours. And for the first time, you let yourself admit the truth: Paige had been the loss of your life. And no amount of time, no amount of distance, was ever going to change that.

PRESENT

You’re standing there, caught in the pull of her gaze, the space between you both charged with unspoken words. It feels like you’ve been here a thousand times before, standing on the edge, your heart teetering between wanting to stay and knowing you should walk away.

Paige’s hand still grips your wrist, and the simple touch feels like a tether. A lifeline. But you know better than to think it’s something more. She’s always been like this—holding on just enough to make you feel wanted, but never enough to pull you all the way in.

“Are you really fine?” she asks, her voice lower now, softer, like she’s trying to break through your walls. Her thumb moves in slow, deliberate circles against your skin, and for a brief moment, you feel the weight of the last few months—how everything has spiraled, how much you've tried to hold it all together.

You want to scream, to ask her why it’s always been this way, why she makes you feel like you’re the one losing the fight when you never even had a chance to begin with. But instead, you swallow it all down, pushing the rawness deep inside, out of sight.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, and this time, it sounds almost like a plea. A hope that if you say it enough, you’ll start to believe it.

Paige doesn’t let go. She studies your face like she’s looking for something—some crack in the surface that would make everything make sense.

You hate how easily she does it. How she makes you feel like you could fall apart right here, and she’d still somehow be the one holding it all together.

But she’s not the one holding the pieces anymore.

“Don’t do that,” Paige says, her voice a little rougher now, her grip tightening just slightly. “Don’t close off from me. We’ve never been good at that.”

You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes you. “We’ve never been good at anything,” you snap, but the words feel too raw, too real for this moment.

She flinches, just barely, but you see it. You see the way her shoulders tense, the way her jaw clenches. It’s a reaction you’re so used to by now—the shift in her, the way she pulls back whenever you push too hard, whenever you force her to confront the mess between you two.

But this time, there’s something else in her eyes. Something you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s guilt, or maybe it’s regret. But it’s there, lurking beneath the surface, and it stirs something in you.

“I didn’t mean that,” you add quickly, your voice softer now, almost apologetic. But the damage is already done. The walls between you, the ones you’ve spent months building and reinforcing, are beginning to crumble.

Paige shakes her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “You never do.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The truth is, you’ve always known. You’ve always known that Paige was never going to be the one who could fix this. Fix you.

“I’m sorry,” she says after a beat, and the words hang in the air between you like a promise you both know she can’t keep.

It’s the same thing she’s always said. The same thing she said when she left. The same thing she said when she came back. And each time, it meant less and less.

You swallow hard, blinking away the sting in your eyes. “It’s fine,” you whisper, but the words feel hollow. Because it isn’t fine. It never will be.

Paige looks like she’s about to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she leans in, her lips brushing against your cheek in a fleeting, soft kiss.

It’s nothing. It’s everything.

And just like that, everything falls back into place, if only for a moment. She pulls away, her hand still around your wrist, keeping you there, keeping you close—but not close enough.

You don’t know what’s worse: the way she makes you feel like you’re everything she’s ever wanted, or the way she makes you feel like you were never really a part of her at all.

You look into her eyes one last time, and for a moment, you see something there—something that makes you think maybe, just maybe, she feels it too.

But before you can get lost in it, she’s already pulling back, walking away. And you’re left standing there, once again, at the edge of it all.

The gym feels cold now. The bouncing basketballs echo through the space like the rhythm of your own heartbeat—distant, unsteady, and out of sync with everything else.

And in that moment, you realize something.

You’re never going to be okay with this. Not really.

But you’ll keep pretending, even if she has a girlfriend. Even if you've "moved on". Because that’s all you know how to do.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[1mlei]

Demon Twin Au Thoughts

I've been thinking a lot about Demon Twin AUs lately.

I've read nearly all of the ones on ao3 (Please do send recs my way <3), and I adore the different interpretations of this concept. I will always love the version of this where Danny and Damian are reunited after Danny ends up in Gotham, or Damian in Amity.

I love this classic take on the AU, but I've been thinking about fun ways to spice it up. My favorite idea so far is the idea that the twins reunite after Damian temporarily dies.

Imagine Danny just minding his business in the Zone and he randomly sees his twin, who is supposed to be alive. Damian would be happy to be reunited, he's been under the assumption that Danny was dead since they were kids so he's just glad to see his twin again. Meanwhile Danny is freaking out because he literally faked his death and ran away so Damian could live, what the fuck is this?

You could add a touch of Sam and Tucker being confused on the side. I always imagine that Danny never told them about where he came from or his brother. (What can I say? I love the drama that secrets bring.) You could either have Damian look like his civilian self as a ghost, and have Sam and Tucker be confused af about this random ghost that looks just like Danny. They might think it's a weird duplicate or something, but then why is Danny so freaked out? You could also have Damian be in his Robin costume, I imagine Sam and Tucker would be shocked to randomly see the ghost of Robin in the Zone, but it's far from the weirdest thing they've seen in there. Again, Danny has never been a huge fan of other heroes or vigilantes, so why is he so freaked out about this one being dead? Of course, though Danny has stayed away from Gotham for various reasons he is aware that his twin brother has become Robin after moving in with their father, so he knows that this new ghost can only be one person.

Now moving away from the idea of the twins just randomly running into each other :)

You could try turning it into a twin telepathy type thing, where Danny senses Damian dying, or at least that something happens to him and goes to investigate.

Or, something that I feel is quite in character for Damian, he might hunt down Danny himself the moment he realizes where he is.

You could turn this in different directions again depending on whether Damian is in civilian clothes or his Robin costume. Either way, I imagine him questioning some other random ghost (maybe one of Danny's rouges for fun?) and regardless of how he's dressed they'll point him towards Danny.

"Oh you're looking for your brother? Idk man, go ask Phantom or something."

OR

"Your brother? You look fucking identical to Phantom so you might wanna start there."

Either way Damian tracks down Phantom and concludes that yes, that is his brother. Dramatic reunion ensues.

Last little thought I had on this, Damian doesn't think Danny is a ghost, he assumes he moved on, or maybe he somehow knows he faked his death and thinks he's alive? Regardless, Damian is a man on a mission the moment he arrives in the Zone, he refuses to stay in this pathetic realm and decides that whether he's dead or alive he will make his way back to Earth. Best way to get there? Damian goes to talk to the king of course, to negotiate (or fight if necessary) about going back to Earth. If not that, he just happens to hear about a certain half-human, half-ghost hybrid and tracks him down for help. A hybrid sounds like someone who would know how to go back and forth between the realms after all.

---

All this to say, I want more of the Demon Twins reuniting in the Ghost Zone. If anyone has recommendations or ends up writing a story of this please do send a link my way, it would be most appreciated <3

+ Bonus points will be added if there is a scene where Damian is resurrected and Danny decided to tag along. Cue confused batfam freaking out because oh god there's two of them now how did that happen.

[kingdomaddiction]

I've been thinking in a Cumplane friendship idea.--

You see, everyone seems to believe SQQ and SQH can't stand each other. Quite the opposite, really. When it's only the two of them they don't feel the need to keep up the pretence. It's so easy to relax, to put the mask aside.

They aren't peak lords nor cultivators. They're just two dudes in their mid tweenties trying to survive in this forsaken world.

SY knows he might not be the kindest nor the most loving of friends, (he spent so many years alone in a cold, hospital room, he's not good at socializing) but he does care for Airplane. A lot. He will never say it out loud because it's embarrasing but that stupid author is his best friend.

So, that's why when the news of Qinghua's disappearance finally reach him (two weeks, it took two full weeks before someone decided to tell him--- )they absolutely destroys him.

He seems calm at fisrt. Not truly procesing the news. LBG makes a few comments about something Mobei told him (you fucking knew and didn't tell me, how dare you, husband?! )

Gone, SQH? No, that's dumb. He couldn't be gone. He's a peak lord, he has responsabilities, a bunch of little ones to teach. He even takes care of the north. And most importantly why would he leave Mobei? It makes no sense, not fucking sense.

SQH wouldn't leave like that. He... he wouldn't leave SY behind.

He can feel sob building up in his throat. That... stupid, idiot--HACK AUTHOR!

His crying fit is so strong and sudden that sends LBG and his whole demon staff into a panic.

"Shizun?!" He says looking for visible injuries-

"Don't touch me!" He screams and LBG looks at him with hurt.

"Husband? Have... have this disciple done something wrong?"

SQQ just turns and walks to his chambers ordering LBG not to follow him. His husband is left feeling distressed and cries for very different reasons.

Later that night they talk. SQQ feeling tired and sad finally calls for his husband to comfort him. He explains to him why he is angry at him and LBG apologizes.

"This one thought you hated Shang-shibo and that Shizun wouldn't care about his dissapereance." He says in a small, careful voice. "Mobei jun came to the palace days ago to beg for help in his search... "

"You turned him away... " SY says, sounding very tired.

"Yes. But this husband will make it right, Shizun. I will find your friend for you, promise."

SY sighs and hugs his husband, hiding his face in his chest.

..

Idk 'm all over the place but the idea is that the system is glitching and took SQH and is kind of keeping him hostage? Like, in between worlds. Not the mordern universe, not PIDW.

I imagine LBG having a very hard time accepting his shizun worries and loves others and not just him (??? why??? I'm more than enough you need NO ONE else shizun). He's too possesive and would like very much just to lock his shizun away, but that would break him and he never wants to see him cry like that ever again. Even if that means he has to share his attention.

MBJ is very broken in this one fiding himself lost without SQH. they had just finally stablished their relationship so he's between angry and scared. Also his trust and loyalty to LBG has taken a blown since he refused to help him find his lover. Didn't he help LBG when everyone turned his back on him as he clinged to his dead shizun's body?

While they work together (before they can even figure out where sqh is) LBG slowly realizes he might have fucked up a bit and ??? misses Mobei ??? are they friends???!!

SY tries his fucking best to keep it together. Really, he loves Binghe but that man can be so dense.

They find where SQH is being kept. The place is like a limbo. Cold, and vast where no time passes. In order to get him back LBG, MBJ and SQQ work together to reforge Xin Mo and travel there. There's a cool fighting montage, tears, hugs and everyone is happy at the end

Yeah that's all i got so far. I'll be going back to work now--

[triglycercule]

horror has KR dust can't be affected by KR unless it's by another version of himself. horror's (somehow) still a judge dust wants repentance for his wrongdoings,,,, someone must see where i'm going with this

i just wanna imagine like if dust ever feels like he's doing something wrong (like having thoughts about gaining LV again or something,,,,) he'll just ask horror to give him like. a quick little punch. hit him with a bone fragment because he needs to feel his sins crawling on his back from a true judge,,,,

and then horror's more than happy to do it 😁😁😁 he winds that shit up before he bitch slaps dust :33 oh you need to be judged DONT WORRY DUST horror is a totally impartial judge that totally won't find your situation both ridiculous and entertaining 😁😁

[moonpie016]

*Check watch*

And it's the 26th, cool.

>:]

---

---

I love this so much. The colors, the poses, just :]

You might (possibly) be wondering, "why did I set a specific date for me to post this?" And because.... it's now been a year since I listened to The Mind Election and The Soul Eclectic!!

Is this some grand spectacle ? Is something amazing going to happen?

No. But it's special to me. Playing these songs on repeat without ANY knowledge of what it was, or even understanding what was going on. I treated it as any other cover of a song I'd listen to.

Could somewhat understand it at points, but I never really knew there was a story to these songs. Just make little animatics in my head with whatever I was interested in before.

And I only listened to the audio versions of them. I didn't know The Heart Acoustic existed, (and kinda not enjoying it at first.) But it grew on me. Then I saw a video talking about similar music people, then discovered there were music videos??? :0 And a story?? Double gasp.

The feeling of listening to these for the first time can never be replicated, the unknown of it all. Just jamming. I've already rambled about trying to find a new interest after the old one died off. Then finding the TME and TSE, and basically finding motivation to do something passionate again. (Between toying with ocs while doing so.)

And drawing these three embodiments of inner workings (cus I can't think of a proper term) kinda helped in some aspects. Not all, but trying to understand how my own inner workings work. What traits I do or whatever. This isn't about that.

But yay! Enough of the backstory! :]

Here's some alternate versions of the drawing, (like without the words and the background). And some doodles. >:]

---

⬇️

I made some random character with the lasso tool (kinda). Fixed some of it sooooo.. mostly the lasso tool. Imma call them Rascal. Idk.

And a scene I wanted to draw of the story thingy I made weeks ago with Soul and Whole.

But that's all! Surprisingly.

Hope you enjoy!

---

[quantum1mmortality]

oooooo I have so many ideas…

If you have a kid with curly, how does he react as a father? He gives me SUCH STRONG girl dad energy and I can’t tell you why. This man is a GIRL DAD. How is he as a parent? Does he cook? Can he help his kid with math homework? Is he a family man? I’m so curious to see your thoughts on this.

Prob like the 7th request I've gotten for dad/dilf Curly 😭😭 also to my very special anon who has been in my asks for a very special Jimmy request, give me a few days, it'll be out love 🪽(I'm busy asf rn)

Tw/cw; none!! All sfw this time :) see guys I can be family friendly when I want to be

Not proofread

I've actually gone over this in the tags of a different post, I do think Curly would be a girl dad. He'd want twin girls and you guys canNOT tell me different.

After you come home from the hospital, Curly would do literally everything for you and the new babies. He'd prepare healthy meals for you, he'd help clean and feed the babies, if one of them started crying in the middle of the night he'd insist on being the one to take care of it, etc.

Basically the bare minimum but is still praised because the bare minimum is hard to come by now.

I see Curly as the type of man to be raised by a single mom and having no father figure. Morbid? A bit, but it helped shape him into the super awesome sauce girl dad he is today.

Because of having an absent father, Curly would go above and beyond to make sure he's present in his children's lives. Any days he has off, he's spending time with you and your new baby girls. Oh, his daughter's are in a school play? He's calling off work and showing up with flowers and chocolates for both of them. Shit like that

Curly would come into work late or just take the day off completely if you needed extra help with the kids. He'd leave work early to pick them up from school if you couldn't. He WANTS to be there. And just remember guys, if he wanted to, he would.

Curly would also try to be home early so he could read them bedtime stories. Idk I just think that's cute.

Once they start growing up, he's getting more into their interests. Curly would be the type of dad to let his daughters put makeup on him and have them do his nails. He would happily walk into pony express as a well known captain and have nail polish everywhere on his hands BUT his nails.

And yes, he would help his kids with their homework. Something about Curly makes me think he took mathematics in college, and I can safely say he is breaking every generational curse by not making your children cry over their math homework.

BONUS CONTENT!!!; Curly would want older twin daughters (obviously, we just went over that) and a younger boy. He would want to name the boy Dallas, but I can't think of any names for the girls. He'd like the name Phoebe a lot, so probably that and maybe a name like Sophia for the other twin.

A/N; too many curly fics, must make master list

[jules-ln]

Ok, so I can't stop thinking about Viktor in Arcane lmao

Not so much because I like him (which I do lmao) but more because his arc seems like convoluted mess of knots at first glance, and I don't understand it completely and I need to put this puzzle together

Also, honestly Arcane it's the perfect case for why "show, don't tell" isn't always good as it left a lot of things incredibly vague, things I think they should've stopped and clarify more

So let me take his character apart from the beginning to understand him

Spoilers btw

First I want to talk about Viktor's disability because apparently it was a big deal

I say apparently because at first I thought it wasn't a big deal for Viktor, it was just part of who he was

Like the first time we see him, he's confident, he seems secure in himself and the show itself doesn't seem to make a big deal out of him using his cane

But turns out that getting rid of his disability it was actually a big deal for Viktor and I want to search for an explanation that isn't that the writers probably had a subconscious bias about disability

Tbh I always thought that it was kind of implied that Viktor's disability was a result of his parents being exposed to dangerous chemicals in Zaun, like it wasn't just his sickness that was a result of being born in Zaun, but also his leg, don't know if it's just me but anyway the author is dead moving on

I'm saying this because it would make sense at least for Viktor to think that way. Because in his mind it's his disability = his sickness = the problems in Zaun. These three things aren't different for him, is one and the same problem that needs to be solved

This is also shown when Viktor is experimenting in himself with the Hexcore and instead of doing something that might help him idk stop coughing blood, the first thing he does is trying to undo his disability. And I've seen some people ask why the hell is Viktor more worried about his disability than the thing that's actually killing him. It's because in Viktor's mind is the same thing

Now, we can actually see hints that Viktor might resent his disability (and Zaun by extension) in the boat scene when he's a child, where even though his genius is great, his disability stops him from reaching the boat, from reaching his full potential (at least in Viktor's mind)

He resents not being able to be who he wants, who he could be if he had been born in Piltover and puts the blame on his disability and Zaun

This actually makes sense with later scenes when Viktor and Jayce show off what they've been working on to Heimmerdinger, the gauntlets and the claw (arm?). If Viktor and Jayce were working on these two things separately, very telling that Viktor's project (the claw) focuses on artisans, who are still "a step above" than the miners Jayce is focusing on. But if they're working together on the projects, we see that Viktor actually doesn't really wants to help Zaun

Because, what are these? Gauntlets and a claw to make people work faster? These are the solutions Viktor (and Jayce) come up when confronted with Zaun's problems, not actually helping them attack the root of the the problem. Like Miners have to spent hours working in dangerous conditions that affect their health? Well, let's give them something so they can work faster. This is merely palliative care, not caring to actually solve the real problem

Which leads me to the next point, Viktor doesn't actually wants to help Zaun to become a better place, he wants to get rid of the Zaun of now and transform it in Piltover 2.0. In his mind this isn't about helping Zaun, but getting rid of the thing that caused his disability and sickness, metaphorically eliminating them both

We can see this in Viktor's commune

Because, Zaun, even when it looks dirty and dark, all in all doesn't look ugly, like any place where poor people live, it's also full of individuality and self expression, art that's fighting to exist. Compare it to Piltover's Art deco and art nouveau inspired architecture that while, yes, everything looks very beautiful, it also looks very same-y

Viktor's commune also looks very same-y and in a way a bit Piltover inspired. Contrast Viktor's commune to the alternative universe we see where things are better in Zaun, it looks brighter and cleaner, but it also didn't lose any of the self expression and individuality that Zaun has. Individuality that is lost in Viktor's perfect world

Because again, it wasn't about Zaun, or about helping people, it was about Viktor taking something, destroying it, and substituting it with something he believes to be perfect. Perfect without any kind of disabilities that might hold Viktor back (which isn't true but that's what Viktor believes)

This sentiment later comes back when he tries his glorious evolution

Now about Jayce

Part of why I didn't understand Viktor's characterization at first was because I wasn't seeing the whole, I was missing a crucial part of the puzzle, and that was Jayce

At first I thought that Viktor was only interested in Jayce because of his idea of Hextech. But no.

The first time Viktor and Jayce meet, Viktor seems only mildly interested in Jayce's idea, but not enough to actually do something to help him, he was there because he had a job to do, he had to make sure that Jayce was arrested, only that

It wasn't until the judgement that Viktor actually takes an interest in Jayce, but not because of his idea

Viktor was attracted by Jayce's willingness to defend what he thought was right even when everyone else went against him. His personality and fierceness was the thing that later made Viktor take another look at Jayce's investigation

Compare it to how Mel first approached Jayce

Mel and Viktor are very similar in that both want to make something perfect (Mel wants a perfect Piltover, Viktor wants a perfect Zaun and later a perfect world), but they have different motivations. Mel wants to make a perfect city so that she later can gift it to her mother and prove that she's worthy of her love and affection, and that she's worthy of being part of her family

So in the judgment, Mel first sees and is interested by Jayce's idea, because it's something that can get her closer to her goal of being back with her family. Later she's interested in the inventor

But with Viktor is the opposite, he first is interested in Jayce as a man, that's what later attracts him to his dream

(Side note It's also worth noting that I think Arcane takes away Jayce's role in LoL of being Viktor's rival and gives it to Mel. More than that, with both Mel and Viktor being mages and Mel's magic being the thing that stops Viktor during the first fight between him and Jayce. I think that if Mel was more powerful, or Viktor was less overpowered [what the fuck arcane's writers, he's literally a freaking God] she could've stopped him)

Now this is important because I truly don't think Viktor's characterization makes sense unless he genuinely likes/loves Jayce without ulterior motives

In the rest of the first season, we see how Viktor slowly self isolates, in part because Jayce is leaving him behind to be with Mel, so that leads to Viktor taking more and more risks in a bit of a self destructive way, and I think this is in part because Jayce isn't with him. He probably also thinks it's his sickness the thing that's making Jayce go away, that's why he's trying to hide it in the beginning but I'm not to sure about that lmao

This later causes Sky's death, and I think her death is very important for Viktor. Not because he actually feels something for her, but because it's something that makes him feel very guilty

Because, if in the first season Viktor's actions were motivated in part because Jayce went away, then why Viktor's first instinct is to go away in the second season?

It's because of the guilt

In Viktor's mind he not only killed Sky, he's now the thing that killed sky. That plus the fact of how Jayce's acted during the bridge, hating on the zaunites. He probably thinks that Jayce doesn't care about him anymore

When he says "it was affection that held us together" he probably didn't mean it in a "I don't care about you anymore" but more in a "you don't care about me anymore, and you probably shouldn't anyway because there's no reason for you to do so"

When he goes away and creates a cult in Zaun, it's because Viktor is trying to redeem himself and make their dream come true. Viktor's commune is his version of their dream, a little bubble of perfection in an imperfect world

Of course that's not what Jayce wanted or meant when he thought about their dream, but that's just how Viktor misinterpreted it

That's why he's so insistent that Jayce go to see him after he's back from the future, because their dream wouldn't be complete unless it was both of them in it

So when Jayce shoot him, Viktor didn't think that maybe what he was doing was wrong, or that maybe he was crossing a line he shouldn't. When Jayce shoot him, he took it as Jayce rejecting not only their dream, but also Viktor himself

So he was hurt, he was angry. And in his hurt, the first thing he did was trying to justify his emotions by logic. The problem wasn't that what Viktor wanted was wrong. The problem was those pesky emotions messed everything up and if he just could get rid of them then their dream would become true and truly perfect (and Jayce wouldn't reject him). So he needed to get rid of emotions it didn't matter if he hurt the entire world (and Jayce) in his path to do so, more than that it was justified in his mind

I see what Viktor did after Jayce shoot him as he basically saying "I was trying to do this in the nice way, but now I'm angry and I'll show you what I'm truly capable of"

Ironically, his speech about what motivates humanity's greatest good is also what makes them do their greatest evil applies to Viktor 100%, his affection for Jayce is the thing that motivates him to help and to hurt everyone else

I also think that Viktor knew he was in part taking away some of the free will of the people in the commune, he probably just thought it wasn't doing them any harm, just taking away their "disability"

Now, in the future, Viktor realized that perfection, getting rid of humanity's mistakes, and getting rid of his disability; wasn't what he truly wanted, the thing that he truly wanted was to not be alone, and to be worthy of love, and Jayce was the only one who didn't make Viktor feel alone. So when Jayce hugged Viktor and showed him what he saw, I actually think it was like Viktor of the future telling his past self "this is not what you want, this is a mistake"

I also don't think Viktor learned to accept his disabilities in the end; because a heartfelt speech about loving yourself isn't going to make you forget a life of prejudice just like that lmao

But I do think that in that moment when Jayce showed him the future, he recognized that what he was doing was a mistake and stopped

In the end he got what he truly wanted, which was not being alone, being loved, and to be with Jayce, even if their dream of making the world a better place didn't become true

I read somewhere that Viktor in the game was inspired by Doctor Doom, and Idk if that's true. But if I had to compare Arcane Viktor to somebody in Marvel, it would be the Scarlet Witch (here I am thinking about fanart of Viktor dressed as the Scarlet Witch lmao), an extremely powerful being that gets carried away by their emotions, and ends up doing horrible things with good intentions

Yeah, I understand him a bit better now lmao

[askthefamous8]

Even if I haven't been very active lately, 9 years is still pretty significant- happy birthday to the blog!

So like Percy up there I'm gonna do so dome reflecting. This blog's where I've often done that for some reason, but here's the tl'dr for blog related stuff.

• I would like to keep drawing stuff but feeling generally unsure in myself, and I'm wondering if all the years of fandom harrassment have caught up with me • I have one big project in mind, I've been dipping my toe into what I'd need to do it. No spoilers but it was one of the first things I played around with this series, so do with that what you will • If I can keep myself drawing, I want to use more of the original source material since I'm struggling with original ideas. So stuff like redraws, hOpEfULlY even animatics, just like what originally got me so into trains yknow? Because that's fun and sparks joy. And that always goes down a treat with you guys so bonus • As always I appreciate you guys not coming after me for being so inconsistent

The rest of this is me doing what Percy's doing in the drawing and reflecting, as there is indeed much 2 think about. It's also a little sad and venty so, there's your warning there.

.

Ok so obviously a busy year, we moved into our new house that we actually own, I spent most of the year planning our wedding, and then got married. Big stuff. Also! I came off antidepressants in the summer. I've been on them for...basically as long as this blog, 6 months after I started it I think. Which also means I'd been on antidepressants my entire adult life. Feels like a big deal and I guess I'm still adjusting.

Another big thing, but sad, is that my dog died about two weeks ago. If you follow me on twitter you'll have seen her but she did make an appearance here a few Halloweens ago

I got her when she was 13 and had her 8 years after that. So that's been difficult. Unrelated to that (probably), but I just feel...really mediocre. And before you point out the obvious, this has been present even before I came off antidepressants. But yeah just... mediocrity. In myself as a person, how I look, what I draw, my whole life really (barring my marriage thankfully). What have I achieved? I'm 26, I'm not working, I don't feel well, my art isn't good (I don't think so anyway- like yeah it's technically fine I guess but it's not, and has never been, very stand-out or impressive). And lately art doesn't bring me the same joy it once did, and I'm wondering if all the years of harrassment from this fandom (mostly the twitter side, tumblr's been pretty good to me) has finally caught up with me and put me off the whole thing. Or worse, that I just don't have as much of an interest in it anymore. I don't think I'll ever be like "ok yep I'm officially done with this blog" because I'm so stubborn but idk. I want to make things and be creative, I want to make more train art, but it doesn't feel the same. I don't know what's wrong. What do you listen to? What you want vs what you feel? I still enjoy train stuff, I love going to Awdry Ex every year. It's been like this for awhile. It's not even like I have a strong feeling of what I'd rather be doing as far as careers go. And even if I did, oh yeah I'm sure my two degrees in animation will be very relevant in another field (sarcasm). I feel adrift. My sails are open but there is just no wind. Planning my wedding gave me something to do and work on and just, feel useful but now that that's over I feel lost again. Losing my dog, who had become the center of my life because of how vulnerable she had become, hasn't helped.

On the more creative side of things, I also don't really know what to do with this blog's story either. The show's ended as far as most people are concerned, and I kiiinda wrote myself into a corner because once Thomas turns 18 he's going to leave for university, and that sets off this whole arc with James but basically the problem is it involves characters leaving and for some reason that feels like a no-no here. Don't get me started on the timeline lol. But Thomas works on a railway on Sodor, that's how it has to be...right? I guess I'm sort of at a crossroads of, ok do I want this to be close to the source material, and thus easily digestible to newcombers? Or do I want to make it more and more my thing and distanced from the source material? I doubt there's many new people coming since the series ended. And even then, there's a lot more humanization artists around now than when I started, so it's not like I'm filling a niche anymore. Just to be clear it's fine and also good that there's more humanization artists, variety is good, I just don't feel as "needed" anymore (which is 100% in my head and not an actual role that belongs to me or something). I started this blog when I was 17, so my interests and what I relate to have changed obviously. The character designs certainly have. It's never followed a super rigid story plan, but the core of it has always been the central cast doing things on Sodor. I however have always had a scene/project/animatic/whatEver in mind for when this 'series' would '''officially''' ''''end''''. But then what comes after that? I've always tried to run this blog like they are Real People that You interact with. But in real life there is no ending to the story, there's always more stuff to come. You get married, and it's wonderful, and then life goes on. The credits never roll. So maybe that's what I'm having trouble coping with...the progression of time. Ah, my old nemesis. I've always had trouble with letting go of things. There's nothing to say that I couldn't still draw stuff after the series "ends". I guess any story after Thomas leaves could be like... a sequel series or a spin off or something. Spin-off of a spin-off. Famous 8 All Grown Up. Famous 8 Qurter Life Crisis. Who knows. I certainly don't.

I've also been really into an original project unrelated to this but those don't get as much attention and while I'd like to do something with it one day, I don't feel very confident in being able to make that happen right now. But you know... as far my as art not being super spectacular goes... I think my individual talent has always been is my ideas, like the writing side of things. And then brought to life with my art, which normally isn't anything to write home about but is good enough to convey the idea and be not-awful to look at, lifts both of them beyond what they were individually. Maybe that's what I should focus on. Maybe that's wishful thinking.

So....idk. Idk what I'm doing but I'm trying to be gentle on myself and just let myself continue to drift, to heal from this heavy loss, and then in the New Year I'll try and pick myself up. Then there will be no more big once-in-a-lifetime events coming up, no more just-moved-into-a-house-and-oh-no-there's-a-bunch-of-things-that-need-attention-NOW scenarios, and no more big holidays for awhile. I guess we'll see.

If you read all of this I am so sorry but also thank you for reading my ramblings. And thank you for being around, whether that's been for a few months or for several years, but especially if it's been several years

[idontlikeem]

hi! i'd like to talk about losing. you don't have to read this if you don't want to, but i wanted to write it, and guess what, it's my blog. i just like this team a lot and i'm feeling a little maudlin about my guys and a little sick to fucking death of the shit i'm seeing all over kingdom come from 'fans'. so here we are.

So You Became A Fan Of A Living Legend But The Hockey Team Is Bad: a commentary.

look. this is not the most fun i've ever had watching hockey, and i'm quite sure a lot of people feel the same way. the penguins are bad this season! they were bad last season too, but there's something very special about the extent to which they are shit right now. and those are not fun games to watch.

but here's the thing: who cares.

like, idk. there's so much god damn negativity surrounding this team and its performance right now, and i'm guilty of contributing to it as well, because yeah of course i'd rather watch a team win in decisive fashion most nights. of course i'd rather dream about may and june and the stanley cup. of course i want to watch that happen again for my favorite players. like, duh.

but. it's probably not going to. not if these players get what they want, which is to play together on this team until they're ready to retire.

and you know what? that's fine. if they're fine with it, who on earth am i to not be?

i think we all have the same reaction when we see idiots online saying things like 'sid doesn't deserve this trade him to a contender'. and that's because we are smarter and more refined fans who understand that what sidney crosby DESERVES is to select how and where and when his career ends. is it on a team that sucks? then that means being here is more important to him than getting that fourth cup. staying with geno and kris and the penguins as a whole, never putting on another NHL logo, is more significant to him personally than another victory. and isn't that special? isn't that worth celebrating?

of course we know all of that because we're better at being fans than the uncles online who are writing weird fanfic in their heads. but. guess what that comes with:

losing.

and losing badly, in the case of this season.

i am here to tell you that sitting and bitching about it helps no one. right now, what we have to watch and celebrate is our favorite players still playing at a high level. they're still doing cool stuff on the ice. and they're doing it TOGETHER. this is what they wanted. so your options are either to hate it and sit in negativity about it each and every game, OR readjust your mindset and learn to enjoy what we have while we have it.

we are watching myth-making happen live. we are watching living legends play hockey. this is a privilege and an honor and it's not something most fanbases get EVER. and we have two! can you believe it?

there are things i would have rather seen done differently over the last couple of years. as far back as 2019 there were moves i disagreed with and changes that could have been made that perhaps could have extended their window. and of course the 2022 series against the rangers, that was a very good team that got hit by injuries at the absolute worst possible time, and probably that was their last chance as a core to compete. it's frustrating to watch that stuff happen when you have no control over it.

the pittsburgh penguins were high-end competitors and contenders for seventeen years straight. that's insane and unheard of in this league. they're not anymore. and the price you pay for almost two decades of dominance is...being bad. when you're competing you trade prospects and draft picks for win-now players. sometimes those work out, most of the time they don't. with the amount of winning this team has done, even the trades that didn't work were worth it, because it meant they were trying.

there are no fanbases who are going to feel bad for penguins fans right now. that's also why we're getting so much attention from the national media. people aren't used to this team being as bad as it is, and people like watching downfalls. that's fine. most of those fans have never watched their team win, and most of them never will. so if their joy is coming from sidney crosby's team being bad....well, love and light, you know?

and we shouldn't feel bad for ourselves either. this is what happens. this is how it goes. this is the price for the band staying together.

i dunno, guys. this is a disjointed rant. it's just so effing hard to be kicked in the nuts everywhere you go with unrelenting negativity. it's on twitter it's in the articles and yes, it's here too. but if you can't be a fan of a team when they're bad, then i'm sorry but you're not a fan of the team (or certain players), you're a fan of winning. and NO team wins all the time every year. that's not how sports work.

we are lucky. at least, i feel lucky! don't you? gosh, sidney crosby scored his 600th career goal tonight. evgeni malkin is over 500 goals on his career. can you believe that? it's amazing to watch.

and it's going to be over in less than two years. do we really want to waste it by wishcasting something that's not going to happen instead of enjoying what we DO have?

if the media bums you out, don't listen. don't read the articles. don't go on twitter. dry your tears on the stanley cup banners that sid and geno hung up—there are three to choose from!

[tanukigrookey]

Arcane thoughts and feelings

So I've been sitting on this post all day and couldn't figure out how to write it so I'm just going to do it. I think that arcane as a whole was almost a perfect show. I adored everything about it. But BUT in episode 9 there was a single line that just knocked the wind out of me and honestly brought it down to a 4/10. And obviously any x/10 ranking system is inherently flawed cause there is no such thing as an "objective opinion" but this scene legit hurt me and just I can't like the ending because of it

Spoilers after break

I am disabled, I have muscle atrophy slowly eating away at the muscles in my legs, and a dead nerve in my thigh that makes me feel like I'm constantly on fire and dying. In season 1 when Viktor carved the runes into his leg and ran across the bridge I actually cried because I know that feeling I am so desperate to be able to run and call my body my own that I related to that. Now it goes without saying that cyber fascist jesus was a few steps too far and viktor was obviously the villain. But when jayce entered the internet he said ~the line~ "You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses, your leg. your disease.But you were never broken Viktor" "there is beauty in imperfections" Thats the line that hurt me because I have heard family and friends telling me my whole life that I'm just not trying hard enough and theres nothing wrong or if theres something wrong I'm just letting it win "the only disability is a bad attitude" and like no. Ignoring that Viktor was disabled and had things wrong with him does not make him beautiful. it just came off as ableist, condescending, and patronizing. And for that to "win" made me sick to my stomach and ruined the entire show for me. Anyway thats what I've been stewing on for the last (almost) 24 hours and just idk man. That really ruined what I felt was an almost perfect show but it just makes me feel sick now.

[katatty]

Shifting Priorities

Thank you for all the nice comments yesterday! Some really helpful perspectives that gave me a lot of ideas on how I can tackle my simmer's block :)

Mostly, I think I need to trim down the number of neighbourhoods I consider "active" and the amount of projects I am doing in general. I have a hard time letting go of neighbourhoods, especially if I am still somewhat invested in them! But I also need to face the fact that I only have so much free time, and do not want playing the sims to be the sole thing I do with that free time XD

For some neighbourhoods I will also be trying out a more stripped-down approach to blogging, similar to what I've been doing with Driftwood. It makes me a little sad because I like my sims to feel fleshed out as characters and giving them voices is a big part of that! But maybe I can save the prose/dialogue for times when it is particularly needed, rather than including it as a default.

Finally, I am going to prioritise based on what I actually have the most fun with, rather than letting popularity drive my decisions!! Some neighbourhoods I feel sad about potentially retiring because I know people enjoy them, or I feel bad admitting I am never going to finish projects people were excited for, but I have to remember simming is something I do for myself, not for popularity or for other people.

So, plans for my neighbourhoods:

Pleasantview Plus - will continue in its current form for the most part, but holdholds I found less inspiring will just get short summaries rather than extensive documentation. This hood is waaaaaaay too big and I think not that many people follow it all that closely, but it's also my one true love and I would like to start prioritising it again rather than it always being on the backburner

Uberhood Challenge (YouTube Series) - This is a short-term series, and will continue as planned until I finish the challenge, which I'm over halfway through :)

Hollyhead - I hate to say it because I know a lot of people love it, but I feel like I have sorta outgrown this neighbourhood? Some simmers like their settings to be an escape from the real world, and when I made Hollyhead I think it was what I needed too, but these days I find how upbeat & wholesome it is a bit, idk, constraining?? I crave drama and conflict in my stories!! I also have kinda lost interest in the BACC rules and have started to find it more book-keeping and hassle for what I get out of it... Whenever I do open the neighbourhood I still really enjoy actually playing it, and I love the characters so much, but I just haven't found the events interesting enough to want to write about. I think this neighbourhood will not be retired completely (yet), but I will move towards writing much shorter updates in the form of newspaper articles and see if that helps. If by the end of this season I still feel ehhh about it, I might formally end it <3

Driftwood - no complaints about this hood, I'll probably continue with the current style of documenting major events & new builds only

Spruceburg (YouTube series) - I would like to do another season of this next year, after I finish the uberhood challenge! But I will probably go for a schedule of like, one season of series per year, rather than posting consistantly. I enjoy YouTube a lot, but its a lot of work too and I think has majorly taken away from my blogging time this year, which I am mourning now lol!!

The Fiero Legacy - it is probably time to throw in the towel with this and admit I just don't enjoy playing legacy style or with story progression that much! I always enjoy the period where the heir is dating but once they settle down and have kids it becomes a chore and a grind, plus with story progression's time system I always feel rushed and like I can't take a sim out of the house for an outing without potentially missing important milestones - the urban setting feels so wasted when its all family gameplay, haha. Hallie should be at the club!! It was an interesting experiment and a nice change of pace, but idk if I really see myself returning to it. I love the sims themselves and the setting, but whenever I actually load up the neighbourhood I just feel kinda stressed and overwhelmed :(

As for my building projects like Belladonna Cove, perhaps at some point I will get really inspired and return to them but for now they are on indefinite break. I remember saying a few time in the past that I didn't really feel much need to make over Pleasantview and Strangetown because if I wanted nice makoevers I would use frottanas, and tbh I feel the same way about Belladonna Cove - if I was playing it I would just use plumbtales makeovers XD With my past neighbourhood makeovers I was really inspired to make them because there wasn't anything out there that was exactly what I wanted but, well, there's loooooads of nice Belladonna cove makeovers these days so I just don't feel much drive to make my own version I guess?? I think I also have lost interest in building a little becasue I am no longer into super heavily decorated lots - I prefer lighter lots that won't cause lag lol! So yeah, I am probably not retiring from building forever but its no longer a priority for me :)

[velvetvexations]

I did not mean to sleep all day. Here all the non-kink asks in my inbox lol.

Does a little dance. People being weird about transmascs on here has messed up my self perception so bad im not actually sure of my own gender anymore, yayyyyy

Fuck that anon, if you're man that rules. Being a man is awesome. You don't need anyone else's opinion to affect who you are, there is no bad gender.

just saw someone acknowledge trans men are often lumped into female spaces due to bioessentialism but then turn around and say that thats proof that trans men arent oppressed. lol.

People act like being let into the Woman Club is the one and only goal of being trans and it's so fucking annoying.

Ngl I still don't understand why femboys are a "transmisogynistic caricature that can't be reclaimed by transmascs" according to some people. Do you have any insights on this because I genuinely can't understand, femboy sounds like gnc boy culture and in my own experience, maybe transfems before they come out occasionally identify as femboys. Idk is it like, someone with an outwardly feminine appearance being a guy? Because that's why I like calling myself a femboy.

Some people think femboy started as a transfem thing because they're idiots who don't know shit.

hey if catboy is ubiquitous and having nothing to do with crossdressing why did Jerma crossdress when someone drew him as a catboy???

Because catboys are allowed to do that lol. Taking one example of a crossdressing catboy to mean catboys infringe on transfem copyright is wild.

Hi thanks for letting me vent to you cause I am at work and can't properly process my emtions otherwise rn. I've been otherwise generally in a slightly emotionally fragile place and then I just got an awful review for my first actual order from a stranger on Etsy. And like I know logically that it's not the end of the world and I gave them exactly what they ordered and it's not my fault that they measured wrong or didn't take my advice and size up a little for fit etc etc but no one else will know that and I just got started selling craft stuff and it's just a hobby and it sucks that this person clearly expected something that wasn't what they paid for (my prices are low cause it's a hobby sorry I don't have super professional materials that would make my stuff cost double) but it's really fucking me up and I am trying not to like cry at work because of this and it's so stupid. This was just my first purchase online that wasn't from a friend and I was so excited and they hated it and didn't even send a message or anything about the length (that was exactly what they asked for by the way) not fitting before leaving a review. It just fucking sucks and I wish my brain didn't react to the most minor disappointments/shows of dislike with the I'm going to kill everyone in this room and then myself meme as first response Thanks for listening. It really helps to be able to vent this somewhere <3

I'm really sorry anon, that sounds so frustrating and hard to deal with. I love you so much. <3 I know you do great work and I hope it goes better next time.

Having NPD sucks, lmao, sorry for the rant ahead. I have to remind myself that the 'mark' on shinigami eyes doesn't actually mean anything, but it's hard sometimes because it's still a stain on my reputation. :( some people will see that and take it at face value, forever associating me with the filth that is transphobia, and I can't do anything about it. I appreciate the people who actually know what a transphobe is going out of their way to remove that mark, but it's a losing battle against a bunch of buffoons who think catgirls are transmisogynistic. sometimes it's really hard to pretend that it doesn't bother me at all, because it's highly insulting for me to be associated with the things I literally fight against. What an insult to my legacy and efforts to even bother to care about other people, you know? I don't HAVE to take time out of my day to do activism, I could just not bother to care at all, but I still try. I deserve praise, not this bullshit😭

I'll praise you! Thank you for fighting against transphobia. <3

All this catboy talk. Wanted to say hi as a catboy. Meow :3

Nya~!

My prediction for TRF discourse in 2025: closeted, non passing trans men shouldn't wear skirts or other traditional women's clothing (even if they don't want to and literally have no other choice) because they're MEN and men wearing women's clothes is obviously always transmisogynistic

All trans men are transmisogynistic because they grew up mocking transfems by wearing women's clothes.

some of this discourse is just so fucking wild i cant believe this is something people are taking so seriously. sipping my tea from the sidelines as a chubby catboy therian lmao

You have a cooler head than I.

iirc the "catgirls are transfem" thing started happening around the time Ferris got popular as a character because, if I'm correct, Ferris actually is transfem (coded?) and following that some people just decided The Aesthetique belonged exclusively to transfems now (also you're so so so so based for loving Schrödinger I remember first seeing him in like 2007 and wishing I looked exactly like him)

Schrodinger is my secret fifth blorbo. I'm obsessed with him. I think about him constantly. High five.

als catboys are only white passing in the way that people love to say anime characters are white lmao (aka cant conceive of the fact that anime characters are actually light skinned Japanese). not to say anime doesn't have a colorism problem but They Are Not White and its racist to say otherwise

lol yes exactly

I might be really stepping in it here, but tangential to catboy/catgirl discourse, I'm starting to get really uncomfortable with how the cutesy moe-blob yuri is treated as "trans lesbian culture" these days? as though none of it was ever straight guy fantasy shit? as though it's ideal representation instead of another vector of impossible beauty standards? idk, maybe I'm just being way too touchy. 😬

It's fine if something becomes emblematic of transfem culture but you just can't pretend something was always transfem when it blatantly wasn't lol

you got marked red on shinigami eyes and i havev no idea why

My smoke too tough, my swag too different, my bitch too bad.

juggalo here. we don't want them.

Devastating.

For what it's worth, the "cats transforming into people" thing is probably based on the bakeneko, yeah. The "bake" in "bakeneko" means "transforming", often with the implication of transforming into people (like the better known bakedanuki and bakegitsune). The popularization of cat-people in anime probably came from Neko-Musume from Gegege no Kitaro (the anime behind the "youkai boom" in modern Japanese culture), who is a half-bakeneko.

Fascinating.

(Dif anon) "leading one to wonder what transphobia they think trans men do face" 99.999% sure at this point we're at "trans men experience misgendering... maybe...?"

Well that doesn't count since everyone wants to be a girl, an idea that I believe has universal appeal because I'm a self-centered moron.

You're awesome <3

Thank you anon. <3

I didn't realize I was trans from yaoi but I did largely realize it from memes about traps and accidentally stumbling across largely transfem subreddits via a anime memes despite being transmasc so. Great amount of respect for our yaoi soldiers.

Hell yeah!

[v6quewrlds]

idk if you have seen the #womeninmenfilelds trending going on. but i can’t help but to think of y/n doing it with svech. he gives off fuckboy vibes so he will probably do something fuckboish and y/n would do an uno reverse and do something similar and he will just be like wtf

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: #womeninmalefields

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.5k.

You strutted into the dimly lit bar, the clack of your stilettos echoing through the narrow hallway. The air had the scent of spilled beer and the faint waft of nachos. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for the familiar face among the rowdy patrons. You spotted him in the corner, hunched over the bar, nursing a pint of something frothy and chilled. Andrei. The six-foot-two Russian tower of muscle and nerves who had somehow wormed his way into your heart and your bed.

He glanced up, noticing your entrance, and you watched as his eyes grew wide, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You couldn't help but smile back, despite the conversation the two of you were about to have. Walking over, you slid onto the barstool next to him, crossing your legs and leaning an elbow on the counter. The bartender nodded in your direction, and you ordered a Sprite.

"Hey, Svechy," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Miss me?"

Andrei looked over, his cheeky grin widening. "Always," he said, his Russian accent thick as ever. He took a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving yours. You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"So," you began, twirling the straw in your drink as it arrived, "I've been thinking about what you said."

Andrei put down his pint, his expression suddenly earnest. "And?"

You sighed, your smile fading into a faux look of contemplation. "I'm still not ready for a relationship, hun."

The silence between the two of you was as cold as the drink in your hand. Andrei's eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of wavering in your resolve. "Why not?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable conversation. "It's not that I don't like you, Andrei. It's just… I've been down this road before. It never ends well for me." You took a sip of your Sprite, the bubbles fizzling against your teeth. "I'm not ready to risk what we have over a relationship that might not work out."

Andrei's face fell, and you could see the hurt in his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, then leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we've been acting like a couple for months now. I thought you felt the same way."

You suppressed a smug smile, but you held firm. "I know, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to put a label on it. We have fun, and that's enough for me."

Andrei's gaze dropped to the bar, his thumb tracing the condensation on his glass. "But I want more," he murmured.

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been expecting this, but hearing it out loud was still jarring. You placed a comforting hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through his sleeve. "I know," you said gently. "But you're a big boy, and you knew the deal when we started this. No strings, remember?"

Andrei nodded, looking up at you with a mix of frustration and sadness. "But things change, kisa. Feelings change."

"I know they do, Andrei, but that doesn't mean we should rush into something just because we're comfortable." You took another sip of your drink, the carbonation bubbling to the surface. "Let's just keep doing what we're doing, okay?"

[chasedeys]

https://www.tumblr.com/chasedeys/768170997377597440/httpswwwtumblrcomchasedeys768169507136159744

Oh 100 % I agree that they had a talk afterwards. Both of them have emphasized communication throughout the 6 years they have been “together 😭💀,” so no way they didn’t have a heart to heart they never get like that with each other

they couldn't have not have the talk lbr like that fight was kind of crazy had people talking about bengals downfall burrow-chase connection fallout etc they got to have a heart-to-heart 😭 though i guess it wasn't really actually a fight?? ja'marr just got so fucking angry and joe had to cool him down and the way to cool him down quick was to yk shove at him and yell at him right back ig though 100% nobody else but joe would've away with it on that field lol

i've talked about it a bit here in the end!!

also after that infamous kc game shove, i definitely think they had a very tough heart to heart where ja'marr maybe spills his full feelings over the contract and how he hasn’t been getting the ball to actually make big plays and how his worth as a wr1 is being brought to question and joe probably spills on his own feelings on how ja'marr held out so long and had last minute (?) changes of playing that week one ramps up joe's own anxiety and hang ups like i definitely feel like he had some unchecked anxiety over playing with his wrist that first game that ja'marr probably said something incredibly insane yet uplifting about in response. the next game its like they mended some unseen frayed stitch of their connection! first drive banger of a 41 yarder td for jamarr, two tuddys for the game in fact lol!! joe gets him his deep ball, then the insane way joe rushed at him after his 63 yarder in the next game, its like that first touchdown against minnesota again. i just wish the very best for them, to keep making these insane passes and insane runs they’ve been making since lsu.

that's pretty much it lmao but there's some more word vomit below that might a bit much tbh:

okay like i was new at this during the first few weeks okay I've not been here for their lsu to bengals run and my understanding of their burrow-chase throw-catch connection by which i mean like actual football playing qb-wr gameplay was still being learned!! i absolute did not know any rules of the game that first week i watched 😭 didn't even know how you got 7pts out a touchdown etc etc sorry i really was just there for the pretty men who had their faces covered by helmets 90% of the time lmao and from what i saw it was kind of meh you know???

like I've watched their highlights before don't get me wrong i know they got it. the touchdowns??? the way joe throws and ja'marr runs??? crazyyyyyy how the fuck does joe know exactly where ja'marr was going to run, how the fuck did ja'marr know exactly how far joe was going to throw, and like this could absolutely be attributed to the way they plan things with coaches and play calling etc but!! doesn't change the fact that in the end it just takes two people to do that shit and they've understood each other so well to have done it near perfectly!! like it made me understand why there's so much poetry and romance in sports!!! the trust the connection the whatever i can't find words the point is i didn't really like......see that in the first two games??? like there was some kind of disconnect yk and like idk they played like shit 😭 but keep in mind i was completely unknowledgeable of football like at all and i refuse to rewatch those games so maybe i was just stupid and didn't see it lmao

BUT THEN???? the week 3 game?????? ja'marr's first touchdown of the season???????? THAT was the shit i was waiting for like iirc ja'marr and tee were running their way down by the sidelines getting double teamed (?) each idk ja'marr was definitely double teamed had me doubting they'd make it but joe threw an absolutely beautiful ball at him and ja'marr caught that shit over his shoulder!?!?!?!??! brought it right home too!!!!!!! i was so gassedddddd i was exhilarated like completely 100% fell in love with the sport that was amazing that was literally my first live burrow-chase touchdown!!!!!!

(another fucking list sorry) me being the Master Speculator of Shit that i am made my own stupid ass narratives about how:

they were unsure of their game and each other's lmao hear me out. joe's first game back after the devastating wrist injury that was hell to get back into form to, had to deal with all the noise about him never going to be able to throw the way he used to again and knew just how many fucking eyes would be on him that first game back watching his wrist like bloodthirsty hawks. even if i believe that he's the type of person who can completely block out that noise without flinching, some subconscious and fearful part of him had to have been holding him back. the numerous, numerous, painful clips of him twisting his wrists repeatedly, fidgeting harder than he's ever fidgeted before, the water bottle stupidity that he actually got asked about, etc (god i can't imagine being a celebrity having your anxious shit caught on camera and analyzed so loudly over the internet). and then you add in how ja'marr's been in a contract holdout and clearly bothered as all hell about it because it's just not getting done at all even d-1 of their opening week!! insane. there were questions of ja'marr even playing game 1 and joe of course said unflinchingly that ja'marr would be ready week 1 regardless but completely understandable if he's rattled okay!! if ja'marr wasn't really planning on playing (wasn't he listed as questionable due to illness idk i forgot) suddenly switching up however many hours before to actually playing that's gotta fuck up joe's steady structure that he already prepared beforehand of not playing with ja'marr you know??? like basically a) anxiety over his wrist, b) ja'marr's sudden status as active messing up his pregame, and c) everybody and their grandmothers all up in his business for his first game back.

ja'marr's contract situation. people absolutely saying the foulest shit about his decision to hold out, the amount of money he asked, saying to boot him out, calling him a diva /derogatory, comparing him to justin, tee's contract situation, etc. the fo being the one to open convo about his extension only to not be open to his numbers??? sensible numbers if you think abt it btw and now well lmao good luck fo his agent must be smug as all hell. it maybe planted seeds of doubt and insecurity in him on his worth as WR1 you know?? like why are they acting like he isn't worth all that fucking money. incredibly emotional highly intelligent sensitive pisces that he is gets understandably more and more pissed off and defensive about literally everything but he fucking loves this sport and he loves his guys so he decides to play the game 1 anyway and. well. just. sigh.

the game went to shit and ja'marr played idk better than the rest of the receivers but in all honesty everyone was kind of shit?? and like. they lost to the patriots. who literally got beaten belt to ass by the dolphins last week. but anyways game 2 against ja'marr's most Hated capital h and everything fucking chiefs 😭 yeah with the whole contract situation still up in the air there was no way he wasn't going to have some sort of meltdown tbh. hence the fight....where joe got physical with him.....where his actions definitely contributed heavily to their loss which should have been a win.

and so: the talk. like i said they both talked about their anxieties no holds barred literally all the shit i wrote above and apologized to each other the way men usually do idk bro hugged it out maybe. i genuinely think ja'marr went off on joe on not getting the ball more like????? i can't explain it damn it he definitely chewed him out on it and joe was like 'fuck okay'. ja'marr says he never notices shit about how joe throws the ball so maybe he doesn't notice anything about joe's wrist acting up. but maybe he notices that joe's holding back or there's some sort of hang up over the way he plays and needles it out of him point-blank like the person that he is and joe finally talks about it and ja'marr responds by being 100% insane like he usually does and that sort of devotion and sheer stubbornness on one's belief in who you are has to have some kind of impact on joe damn. they probably got some professional therapy too btw at least i hope so :'). but basically ja'marr just wants the ball more and joe gets him the fucking ball.

ja'marr said something along the lines of him finding joy playing again 😔🤚 this was such a comment like god he hasn't been playing happy at all and when he put to rest the contract shit he finally gets to play a sport he loves with joy!!! him being happy is so fucking important to me wow 😭 i think I've said this before in some post idk but he knows he messed up, he knows the contract negotiation fucked up his emotions so bad he brings it on the field so he nips that shit quick and done. no more contract talks until the next offseason. probably made it clear to joe though that he will not leave but fuck if he's listening to any bullshit from the fo when he's got a game to win and a super bowl to get to and idk about you but that probably healed something in joe like there is the guy who gets him. who's as hungry as he is for a win, for a ring, for a championship. who's got his back, who he can trust to be there on the other end of the field to catch his throws.

the next game!!!!!!!!! god i really am not the person to talk about routes or strategy or whatever but i know for damn sure that that was a beautiful throw and that was a beautiful catch and that was a one-of-a-kind connection. like they fixed something that was unknowingly dented in their connection and like they're finally trusting themselves and each other again to make the big plays they've done before the injury and the contract drama you know????? aurrugrgrhrh i can't word anything out i feel like saying more about this but i cant please get me anyway 😭

this entire emotional roller coaster thing was also the main reason they had those kind of helmet bonks on the next 63 yard td and 70 yard td btw. been a long while since they've had those kind of plays, probably had some unnamed unknowing unacknowledged doubts that they would ever have it again, so it was like the first time all over again lol. (was one of the things joe said to him in that little bubble of their celly after the ravens 70 yarder something like 'see i knew we still got it. i knew you still got it.' god i feel insane)

ok bye......