#this has been in my drafts for so long it's clogging it up- take it away from me out of mercy please- /hj

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 4: forget

wc: 6.3k

synopsis: the four times tess and paige forgot they were on different wnba teams

notes: i think i would be a terrible ex bc every time i say im done w this series i end up coming back 😟 i went ahead and combined both of the ideas i linked in the poll since they were so close sooooo everybody is winning i think! also i will be moving all of the irp extras to the irp masterlist instead of clogging my main one so do not be alarmed if you can't find them. uhh thats all but as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

i. firsts

JUNE 6, 2025

For all intents and purposes, today was just another game.

It was an away game, which Tess always enjoyed – it was the competitor in her who thrived off of the home team crowd’s jeers, their disappointed groans when the game was tight and one of their star players missed a shot. It’s the kind of pressure that she craves. You walk into hostile territory, not even as the underdog, but something a little more intense than that. Something more personal. Hundreds of people fill the stands and all they know is that their team will beat yours. Tess could always be found in that sort of quiet that fills the arena when she’s made her point, when her wrist is bent from a deep three that she knows is going in – that shell-shocked, stunned, dominant silence that surges through her veins like electricity. That’s what basketball is to her.

Besides being a Commissioner’s Cup game, the second of Tess’s season, Tess was committed to treating this game just as any other. They’d steamrolled the Mercury only a few days ago so she was in high spirits going into this game. 

…Which just so happened to be their first game against the Dallas Wings. Her first game against Paige.

She’d heard it all from the media throughout the season, even if they’d never said it to her face directly. How are you planning on navigating these games against your significant other? Will you play the game any differently? Is this personal to you? And even the ever elusive, Are you planning on throwing away your season to improve Paige’s stats and her Rookie of the Year campaign — which, what the fuck?

The point is – this has been the most anticipated game since the beginning of the season. While the Wings and the Sparks have both lost a few games each (losing was something that Tess and Paige weren’t quite used to – KP pulled her aside in the locker room after her first of the season, shrugged, and simply said, “Shit happens. Just make sure you have toilet paper,” and to this day, Tess really isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean). Despite the culture shock, Tess and Paige were both on tears — averaging about twenty points a game each. Paige led her in assists, although they tied in rebounds and Tess led in stocks. Analysts claimed they’d be the deadliest backcourt the WNBA has ever seen if only they were on the same team. They had a few more years to go, but Tess did have to admit their games were near perfect complements of each other. 

For as long as she’s been playing collegiate basketball and now, the few short weeks she’s been playing professional basketball, she’s gotten a lot better at tuning out the media noise. While this is a huge game for a lot of reasons – the narrative, the cup game, the first she’s played against Paige as professional athletes, Tess knew better than anyone else that she needed to keep her cool and treat it like she would any other game, even if she and Paige haven’t seen each other since their post draft “vacation” (if you could call it that – Paige was in between several interviews, show appearances, a victory rally, although Tess appreciated that she was just as committed to taking the time off together as she was).

So what if this was the first time seeing her girlfriend in person in almost a month? Tess and Paige were grown adults with grown adult jobs. They could handle the distance. They’re professionals. Which is why Tess is going to not geek out about it.

“Girl,” Rickea deadpans, causing Tess to look up from where she’s currently lacing up her sneakers in the Wings’ visitor locker room. “You need to get it together.”

Tess frowns, genuinely confused. “I’m tying my shoes and minding my business!” she exclaims. “What do you want from me?”

Kelsey snorts, sliding the Sparks warm-up sweatshirt over her frame. “You’ve been smiling all day,” she says. “It’s actually terrifying. Like you were even smiling while tying your shoes. Who does that?”

Tess, conveniently, focuses on her other shoe, making sure the laces are tightened to her liking. “I have plenty of things to be happy about in my life,” she defends. She can hear Cam laugh from the other side of the locker room, turning to Azurá and whispering something about here we go again. “My cousin’s pregnant again. Did I tell you guys that?”

The entire locker room chimes in with a chorus of groans – because truthfully, Tess hasn’t shut up about it. “So that’s really fun! I’m trying to talk her into naming her daughter after me. Tess Kennedy Jr.”

“What if she has a son?” Rickea asks, clearly entertaining this ridiculous conversation.

Tess wrinkles her nose. “She won’t. There’s no space in my family for a man.” Then, she remembers the topic of their conversation, trying her best to steer her teammates away from the conclusion they are most definitely making about her pregame mood. “Then, when we played the Mercury, I set a new career high. Very happy about that, too.” Rickea hums, gassing her up, much to Kelsey’s amusement. “What else?” Tess exaggeratedly taps her chin.

“Keep your secrets,” Kelsey goads, squeezing her shoulder. “Whenever you wanna admit it to yourself, just know that we know. And so will the cameras. So don’t look too in love with the enemy.”

Tess rolls her eyes despite the flush on her cheeks. “You guys have no faith in me,” she says glumly.

“I have faith in you,” Cam says brightly. “We’re happy that you’re happy. Just remember to have some dignity when you walk out.”

“Cameron.”

Cam’s laughter echoes in the locker room as she leaves. Still, Tess grins, satisfied with the tightness of her laces, and follows them out for warm-ups. She can handle this.

Tess, in fact, was not handling it.

Well – she was, but she didn’t want to. She’s not sure what Paige did to her to turn her into the kind of person who stares longingly across the court during warm-ups. Her brain knows that she and Paige have done this long distance thing long enough to deal with it, but having Paige so close to her seems to override that logic. A month isn’t even the longest period of time they’ve gone without seeing each other, but Tess just misses her, as trivial as it is.

She tries, though. She knows there were things they could get away with in college, but she has to remind herself that while she’s just playing basketball, this is her job now. There are a lot of things the media won’t let slide – she could already see the headlines that would tear the both of them down for distracting each other. Tess keeps her focus on her warm ups, listening to the trainers coach them through the exercises and Rickea’s endless complaining about the fact she left her favorite moisturizer at her apartment. It keeps her mind off of Paige for a few blissful moments until Paige jogs by, heading back into the tunnel, and she throws a disarming smile over her shoulder which erases all of the progress she’d made during warm-ups.

Despite the difficulty, Tess makes it through warm-ups in one piece, feeling ready for the game ahead. Everyone lines up for the ensuing tip off. That’s when she locks in fully, the responsibility and vigor of the game taking over. Paige is laser focused too, both of them worried more about the game in front of them, and they’re hardly one-on-one unless their respective teammates call for a switch.

The first switch happens five minutes into the first quarter — the Wings hold a solid six point lead, courtesy of Paige’s signature midrange pull ups. Kelsey is guarding Paige, but NaLyssa sets a screen for Paige. The Sparks had run this play enough in practice so Tess finds herself glued to Paige, effectively stopping the jumper that Tess knew she was squaring her feet for.

“You avoiding me?” Tess asks Paige, knowing her girlfriend can’t resist the opportunity to chirp when presented with the opportunity.

Paige grins through the sheen of sweat glistening on her temples and Tess knows she’s got her — hook, line, and sinker. She keeps the ball close to her person, knowing better than anyone else that Tess is one of the best defenders in the league, second to the bigs. “Nah,” she goads, dribbling the ball calmly between her legs. Her eyes dart around like she’s looking for an opening in the defense, which Tess doesn’t miss. “Figured I’d let you try to defend someone a little more your speed.”

“Scared you can’t keep up?”

“Come on, baby,” Paige coos. “Don’t make me do this to you on national television.”

Tess just smiles at her. She anticipates the pass before Paige even moves and she launches in the air, deflecting it back towards the logo. Kelsey manages to catch the rebound and Tess is already barreling down the court, Paige hot on her heels. Kelsey passes it low to get around Dijonai and Tess scoops it up, laying it in easily with her right hand, knowing that Paige was on her left. It was a pattern she’d picked up not only from watching her in film, but also training with her over the summer before their super senior seasons. Paige is probably the only thing she’s a master in.

Tess can’t help but feel a little proud of herself, glancing back to smile smugly at her girlfriend, who shakes her head with a flicker of impressed amusement in her eyes. Paige, seemingly forgetting that they’re supposed to be on opposite teams, gives Tess a friendly pat on the ass as Tess backpedals for defense. It catches her a little off guard but the game is moving too fast for her to dwell on it.

She refocuses, knowing they’ve already goofed off enough, and settles in for another three and a half quarters of rigorous basketball.

The Wings, ultimately, end up taking the win at the end of the game. Losing is one thing but losing to Paige is another. Tess had played her game, but basketball was a team sport for a reason. There were a lot of things they still had to work on if they wanted to make a dent in the playoffs this season. Similarly, the Wings had some things to work on, but they were just the better team that night.

Tess is still nursing the butthurt feeling when Paige finds her after the game, a radiant smile on her face. Truly, losing this game wasn’t the end of the world, a fact Tess was still trying to make peace with.

“Does this mean I’m on the couch tonight?” Paige asks a little coyly, which makes Tess roll her eyes as she pulls her girlfriend in for a tight hug. She doesn’t say anything, just sinking into Paige’s embrace with a deep sigh, tucking her face into the crook of her neck as her eyes slip shut. Paige is still damp with sweat, smelling something like adrenaline and victory, but Tess doesn’t care. She missed her girlfriend. A lot. Probably concerningly so. She’s sure that feeling wouldn’t ever go away — she’d just get better at dealing with it.

“Hey,” Paige murmurs, her voice softening a little, no trace of her previous tease. “You okay?”

Tess nods slightly, making a concerted effort to pull away. “Yeah,” she says, finally allowing that lovestruck smile to appear on her face, the one that she’d hidden for the better part of the game. “Just miss you. LA is an adjustment.”

The crease in Paige’s brows relax and the blonde smiles a little. “You’re happy though?” she asks, just to confirm, but she knows better. She and Tess have spent enough time on the phone at night to know about every little thought that went through their heads.

“I am,” Tess promises, grinning when Paige’s smile brightens. “But I’m happier now.”

Unable to resist, Paige asks, “Even when you lose to me?”

Tess scoffs, pulling away fully as Paige laughs. “You’re such an asshole,” she complains, but Paige doesn’t let her get too far before she links their fingers together. Begrudgingly, Tess admits, “I don’t think I can ever lose when it comes to you. Not in a way that matters.”

“The distance really has turned you into a lover girl,” Paige teases.

Tess raises a brow. “Says the girl who slapped my ass like we were teammates after I embarrassed her on TV.”

Paige at least has the decency to look a little caught. “I kinda forgot we weren’t just playing one on one,” she confesses sheepishly, which makes Tess laugh. “Didn’t even see your fuck ass purple jersey. Just my girlfriend doing something cool.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Tess states. “Do you know what I have to hear in the locker room now?”

Paige sighs a little, kissing her teeth. “Trust, I’mma be hearing the same. Rike’s gonna laugh at me for the next week.” She doesn’t look too bothered though; instead, she nudges Tess with a coy grin. “The price we pay for love, right?”

Tess returns the grin, reaching out with her free hand to tug lightly at the hem of Paige’s Wings jersey. “Think you love me enough for a Bueckers-Kennedy jersey swap? Unless you’re too cool for my fuck ass purple jersey.”

“I am feeling charitable today,” Paige muses, but the excited expression on her face betrays her feigned nonchalance. She procures two sharpies from the scorer’s table, hands one to Tess, and pulls off her jersey. Tess tries not to stare too hard at Paige’s figure, but she knows she’ll be trending on Twitter after the clips surface. She can’t find it in herself to mind.

Bracing the jersey over her hand, she signs her name on the 2, and in the 5 she writes, “6.6.25 — long way from 2.8.21, but playing against you for the first time is always a date to remember. To my #5, I love you endlessly and I’m so proud of you.”

She finishes the same time Paige does and they swap their jerseys. Tess laughs in delight when she reads Paige’s message to her — the way she’s dotted her I with a lopsided little heart and how she scribbled in a tiny 2 next to the 5 on her jersey so it looks like 25. “6/6/25 — our first professional game against each other. Here’s to many more. I can’t wait for the first game we play with each other. I love you, #25. There’s no one else I want to do this with.”

“Looks like the distance turned you into a lover girl, too,” Tess jokes.

Paige wrinkles her nose, but the love and affection on her face is evident as she slips Tess’s jersey over her frame, looking far too proud. “Unlike you, I’m not ashamed to admit that,” Paige says, watching Tess do the same. The colors on their jerseys and their shorts don’t exactly match, but neither of them care. “I like this on you.” She tugs a little on the hem to be annoying and Tess swats her hand away. Paige grins.

“You mean it?” Tess asks instead of feeding into Paige’s ego. “You wanna be on the same team in the future?”

Paige’s face softens as she reaches for Tess’s hand. “Course I do. I know we haven’t been doing this very long, but you know I’m crazy about you. I can’t see myself settling down without you.”

Despite herself, Tess smiles, her expression far too tender to be standing in the middle of a basketball court with dozens of reporters milling about. She doesn’t care — as far as she’s concerned, she and Paige are the only ones in the room right now. “I feel the same,” she admits, taking in Paige’s beaming smile. “Just don’t think you can win a championship before me, though.”

Paige scoffs, but there’s no malice behind it, only amusement. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she assures her, wrapping her arms around Tess’s waist and pulling her in to press a chaste, innocent kiss to her lips. “We’re 1-0 professionally right now. Think you can keep up?”

Tess laughs, knowing that at the end of the day, she truly doesn’t care about the win record. The distance is hard but it’s times like these that make up for it, when she’s reminded that she has everything she could ever need right in front of her. “You know I can,” she says confidently, and Paige’s grin is full of challenge.

“Then it’s game on.”

ii. i’m not arguing with a woman with pretty blue eyes (whatever you say beautiful)

JULY 2026

The All-Star break had been kind to Tess and Paige.

It was the first time in a while they’d been able to spend so much uninterrupted time together all season – the Wings and the Sparks had obviously been scheduled to play together, but in between flight times and team obligations, they were unable to spend a whole lot of time together before and after their games. With the All-Star game, which they were both (obviously) selected to play in, they both flew in the day before any of the festivities and were able to spend all of Thursday together. On Friday, they were basically attached at the hip for the Skills Challenge and the Three Point Contest (Paige shamelessly cheered for Tess, for the record). And on Saturday, they were on the same team for the All-Star Game. Tess wasn’t sure who allowed that to happen considering the two of them dominated from start to finish, but she sure wasn’t complaining.

It was the first time she’d played a game with Paige. Like, ever. At the All-Star game in 2025, they were on separate teams and they honestly spent the entire time talking shit to each other, much to the chagrin of their respective teammates, who accused them of flirting the entire time. It was most definitely not flirting – Tess at least had the decency to know her and Paige’s actual flirting was not court appropriate, but that’s neither here nor there. The point is that Tess enjoyed playing with Paige. Maybe a little too much because there’s still a lot of time before free agency and she’s honestly not sure if a team could afford them both.

It was back to business following the All-Star break. Tess’s first game back with the Sparks was against the Mercury, who, bless them, were still rebuilding, and got steamrolled by them. Her second game back, however, was at home versus the Wings.

To be honest, she and Paige had gotten a lot better at handling the pre-game emotions. Sure, this game was different considering they’d spent the entirety of the All-Star break together so they weren’t down horrendous like they usually were, but missing each other was something that became easier with time.

Still, during warmups, they shared matching smiles and Paige even wandered over to wish her well. “Good luck scoring without my passes,” she said, which just made Tess roll her eyes.

“You have terrible ball security,” Tess responded, which made Paige’s eye twitch. “Let’s hope you shoot better than you take care of the ball.”

They stared at each other for a minute before giggling like they weren’t pushing 25. Then, they launched into the handshake they’d perfected halfway through their rookie seasons, and the game was underway.

For the most part, it was a typical Sparks vs. Wings game. Tess and Paige always seemed to play their best when it was against each other, which led to exciting match-ups and close games. Tess and Paige usually weren’t each other’s defensive assignments, but when they were, the entire arena seemed to hold its breath – watching the both of them go head to head was like watching two titans clash. They knew each other’s moves, tells, and weaknesses, and usually, it always ended with one of them having to pass the ball to someone else.

Halftime comes and goes and the third quarter begins with the two teams tied. And that’s when Tess’s muscle memory kicks in. She has the ball at the top of the key, scanning for an opening in the defense. Dijonai is stuck to her side – probably one of her toughest defensive match-ups on the Wings with the exception of Paige, and the Wings are playing lockdown coverage. Paige is to her right, locked up with Kelsey, and Kelsey breaks away from her to receive the ball.

Tess and Paige ran this specific play numerous times during the All-Star game. She just needs to kick it out to Kelsey, who’s making the cut, but Tess is thinking too hard about how she was passing the ball to Paige that she accidentally passes to the blonde, instead of Kelsey fucking Plum, her actual teammate. Paige recovers quickly from her confusion and takes it across the court for the easiest layup of her life.

Tess is sure she’s never been more embarrassed in her life. She watches her coach rub her temples in exasperation while the Sparks fans groan. But her coach isn’t calling for a timeout or calling Odyssey over to sub in for her, so she dutifully ignores the blush on her cheeks and tries to lock back in.

Paige is defending her while Kelsey directs traffic, but before she can get too far away, Paige grins mischievously at her, chirping, “Look at you racking up assists all point guard-y and shit. Look for the purple jerseys next time though, a’ight?”

(If Tess drains a three over Paige’s outstretched hand in response, well…that’s no one’s business but her own.)

iii. The Foul (tess and paige’s version)

SEPTEMBER 2027

Tess doesn’t think it’s in her nature to be petty.

At least, she’s not consciously petty. As in – it’s not the front she puts out to the world. Like the time she was feeling a type of way about Maddy Siegrist being weird in Paige’s Instagram comment section and she was being passive aggressive about the entire situation – Tess knew Maddy wasn’t even being weird. She was just upset that she and Paige were moving so far away from each other and regressed into an old version of herself that she didn’t particularly like.

Tess doesn’t like being petty. Or passive aggressive. But sometimes shit just happens and it’s so much easier to retreat into herself and to be silent (for the most part) because as much as she hates it, she feels things too strongly and can’t put her emotions into words in a constructive manner without exploding first. She hates hurting people – especially Paige, and she hates that it’s just so easy to hurt her, too.

The situation wasn’t even anything that deep. Tess knew that, but she’s not sure if her heart does. With the WNBA playoffs approaching, every top team in the league was working harder than ever to secure their seeding. Coach Roberts was working the Sparks to the bone and more often than not, Tess would drag her feet home and collapse into bed the minute she got in. Games were grueling, travel felt harder, and it’s at this point in the season where Tess has to treat herself with a little bit more kindness because it’s so easy for her to catastrophize.

It was nearing 10pm. Tess had just gotten home from an away game versus the Aces. Her body hurt – she took a hard foul from Deja Kelly (at least she got the free throws), she was exhausted, and most of all, she just wanted to hear Paige’s voice. Much like the Sparks, the Wings were at the top of the rankings and were fighting to secure their seeding. She knew Paige was working hard on and off the court. During times like these, it just means that they spend less time on the phone together – mostly because their practice schedules are so rigorous, they’re travelling, time zones suck, and when they do find themselves on FaceTime at night, one of them falls asleep fifteen minutes in.

But now? Tess is at her wits end. She just needs one thing and she’ll be fine. She’s sure there’s someone out there who will say that she has terrible emotional regulation, but all things considered, she really is fine. She has her friends and her teammates whom she relies on and her psychologist. Despite that, she’s just a little lonely in a way only Paige can fix and the exhaustion from the season just makes it worse. She glances down at her phone, taking in the lack of notifications.

Frowning, she opens her message thread with Paige, reading Paige’s last message to her from about an hour ago.

Just landed back in Dallas My phone is almost dead but I’ll try to FT when I’m home I love you 🫶

Tess had responded the same and Paige reacted to her message with the heart emoji. She checks her location, seeing that Paige is at her apartment. Tess knows she’s asleep – she knows this week has been rough on her in between training, playing, and travelling, and as much as Tess hates herself for feeling this way, she can’t help the way the disappointment blooms in her chest like a wildfire. It’s not Paige’s fault – it’s not either of their faults.

She shuts her phone off, plugging it into the charger and leaving it on the nightstand. She rolls onto her side, stretching out in a bed that’s far too big for one person as she pulls one of her pillows to her chest. Early in the morning, she’d be flying out to Dallas for their last game of the regular season against the Wings, and not even that knowledge can keep the frown off of her face.

With that said, Tess would, once again, like to reiterate that it’s not in her nature to be petty. And, truly, the subsequent silent treatment is more for Paige’s benefit than her own. Tess knows herself well enough to realize that when she’s in a terrible mood, speaking usually makes things worse. When she wakes up that morning, she finds an apology from Paige for missing their FaceTime. The worst part is that Paige is genuinely remorseful but Tess is just too stubborn to stop being upset about it.

When they make it to the Wings arena, they dress for warm-ups and head out. Tess is one of the last to leave the locker room, which is unusual for her, but when she makes it into the tunnel, she finds Paige waiting for her, a bouquet of flowers in hand. It makes her soften slightly, feeling a whole lot of guilt for being butthurt over something small, but part of her isn’t ready to let go of her anger.

“Hey,” Paige says, smiling gently like she knows she’s in the doghouse. It would make Tess mad all over again if she wasn’t aware of just how much Paige knew her – Tess knows that Paige knows she’s a little upset, but she’s more upset at herself for feeling upset right now. It’s a weird emotional balance Tess has never been good at explaining. The best thing about Paige is that she’s never needed her to. “I’m sorry for missing our call. I know you’re having a rough week.”

Tess offers a tentative smile, the sight of Paige doing wonders for her tired eyes. “It’s not an excuse to be butthurt. I know you’re not doing any better than me. I’m sorry too.” She takes the flowers from Paige’s outstretched hand, allowing her to pull her into a tight hug, one that she sinks into gratefully.

“I’m not,” Paige agrees with a forlorn sigh. “I passed out in my airport clothes last night. Now I got germs and pathogens and shit on my sheets.”

That makes Tess laugh, her chest feeling loose for the first time in a few weeks. It’s enough to remind her that this – being able to melt into Paige’s arms – is truly all she needed. Her bad mood dissolves, but she can’t bask for too long as Cam’s calling her from the end of the hall. Regretfully, they break away, but Paige presses a gentle kiss to her lips, one that makes her forget what she was moody about in the first place.

The game itself is different. Sparks versus Wings games always are. Maybe it has something to do with how Tess is playing against Paige again or how she’s playing with a smile on her face for the first time in weeks. Whatever the reason, Tess plays with a different kind of fire, a physicality that she doesn’t usually play with. Every time she’s defending Paige, they’re both grinning like they don’t have a shot clock ticking down or a seeding on the line, but the issue comes late in the fourth quarter.

The game is tied – as it always is – and Tess has possession of the ball with Paige sticking close by for defense. Cam steps in for a screen, but Paige doesn’t bite. Instead, in a rare move for the blonde, she accidentally barrels into Tess, who’s already off-balance from an uncharacteristic step-off. Tess lands flat on her ass while the ref calls the foul on Paige, who again, seems remorseful, but there’s a lingering, mischievous amusement in her gaze.

Paige steps behind her, arms wrapping around Tess’s waist and helping pull her up while she pushes herself to her feet. Paige is absolutely fucking shameless – her hands pressed tight to her stomach and her body pressing into Tess’s back like they’re in a dark corner of the club instead of in the middle of the court in a sold out arena. Tess turns on her heel, raising one brow in near disbelief at her girlfriend, who grins like she hasn’t done anything wrong, her hands in the air.

“You’re actually unbelievable,” Tess says, shaking her head, but she can’t keep the smile off her face.

“Was just tryna help you up,” Paige argues, still looking smug as ever, but she backs away, calling, “I’ll make it up to you!”

Tess rolls her eyes, a blush on her cheeks but her grin lingers. The ref passes the ball off to Kelsey to inbound and just like that – the game’s back underway, and all Tess can really do is smile.

iv. she wanted some of my deliciousness

OCTOBER 2028

Of course the first year the Sparks make it to the WNBA Championship, they’re up against the Wings.

Tess can’t even be surprised about it. Every championship she plays in always seems to have Paige on the other end of it, but honestly, she likes it this way. The games against Paige are always nail biters. They were the two people in the league who hated losing the most.

Knowing that, Tess really should have expected for the WNBA Championship to go to a game seven. Tess and the Sparks won the first match, then the Wings won the second and the third. The Sparks bounced back with the fourth and the fifth – both incredibly hard fought games for Tess, and then the Wings tied the series on the sixth game.

Tess has played against this Wings roster numerous times. She knows their strengths, their weaknesses, their physicality. But she honestly wasn’t prepared for how grueling a seven game, winner takes all series against them would be. Nobody made it more difficult for her than Paige did. She was on one from game one through game six, never once faltering, but Tess was never one to back down.

Game seven was different – for both of them. Paige was locked in from the get-go, banking in contested shots like it was effortless, directing traffic like she knew every one of the Sparks’ plays before Kelsey even called for them. She was a menace on defense, her expression one of pure fire, grit, and determination. More than anything, there was a simmering frustration. Tess could see that she was picking up the slack where her teammates were falling short. They were missing costly shots, forcing uncharacteristic passes that transformed into turnovers.

It all culminated late in the fourth quarter – the Sparks held a slim four point lead, one that Paige had cut from nine herself after a deep three and a contested midrange jumper. Tess was guarding her, her Coach having made the adjustment after she realized that Paige was taking the game into her own hands. Paige is at the top of the key, dribbling the ball and waiting for the perfect opening as her offense shifts. She steps forward, pressing Tess, but in her haste to set a screen, one of Paige’s teammates bumps harshly into Tess, sending her right into Paige’s body and knocking her down.

And somehow, in the haze of confusion, the foul is called on Tess instead of Maddy fucking Siegrist, and she’s pushing herself to her feet to plead her case to the ref when Paige starts chirping like it wasn’t her teammate’s fault.

“What the fuck was that?” Paige exclaims, her frustration and exhaustion bubbling over. Tess just blinks at her, the Wings staring at Paige hesitantly, unsure of if she’s actually pissed or if this was just a Tess and Paige thing that’s not actually that serious. They’re competitors – they argue and fight on the court, but off of it, it’s like it’s never happened. She waves her arms, gesturing widely in a way that reminds Tess of her father when he’s heated, and all she can do is raise a brow because there’s no way Paige is actually crashing out at her right now. “That’s a fucking flagrant, Tess, what the f–”

Tired of hearing her complain, Tess leans forward to plant a kiss right on Paige’s lips, shutting her up while the refs step in, pushing them away from each other. Paige just blinks in confusion while Tess grins smugly, always wanting to recreate that Diana Taurasi and Seimone Augustus clip but never having the optimal opportunity for it. “You can apologize to me later!” Tess calls, letting Cameron drag her away from the scene. “Coach, please tell me you’re challenging that call?”

Her coach does challenge it, the refs giving the personal foul to Maddy instead, as it should be. Tess watches Paige from across the court, her expression softening with guilt as she watches the replay.

(For the record, Paige does apologize later, after the celebrations and Tess has taken sufficient pictures with the championship trophy. And, she supposes, Paige makes up for it with interest a month later in Italy when she proposes, and Tess finds that she likes this ring a whole lot more than the one she’d won.)

v. bonus: the one time tess and paige remembered they were on the same team

MAY 2029

The last time Tess had ever played in what felt like a monumental preseason game, it was her first preseason game in the WNBA as a Los Angeles Spark. They’re preseason for a reason – the stats don’t count and they’re just a good way of seeing how your team stacks up against other people in the league.

But this game? This one is different.

She’s dressed head to toe in the Valkyries purple uniform, BUECKERS-KENNEDY stitched proudly on the back. To her right, Paige, wearing a matching uniform, last name on the back and all, stretches her legs out one last time before tip-off against Tess’s old team, the Sparks. And, to be honest, Tess can’t believe that they’re here, together, on the same team after so many years of being competitors. She can’t believe the Valkyries actually signed the both of them, that the team has welcomed the both of them in with open arms, but this opportunity feels more like a blessing than anything else. It feels like a Welcome to the first day of your future.

Tess and Paige had bought a house in the Bay. They would settle down here, retire as Golden State Valkyries. They both knew they’d end up coaching somewhere along the line. They knew they’d raise their children here when the time came. Right now, it just feels like the perfect prelude to forever, the perfect capstone to an arduous journey. While the hard part of it is over, Tess knows that the rest of her life will be an adventure as long as Paige is in it.

Paige catches her wrist, smiling softly at her when she startles. “You good?” she asks gently. There were still a few moments until tipoff, but the fact that Paige is taking the time now to check in with Tess makes her feel warm all over.

“Yeah,” Tess responds, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face. “I’m perfect.” Paige’s eyes search hers, knowing instinctively that Tess wants to say more but granting her the time to find her words. “I’m just happy we get to do this together,” she admits. “You’re the only one I want to do this with.”

Paige’s grin turns a little tender, affection shining in her gaze. “How’s forever sound?”

Tess’s smile widens. “Perfect.”

They line up for tip-off, taking their respective places. Before the ref walks over with the ball, Paige calls out to her, “Remember to write this on your jersey, too. May 4th, 2029. Just another first game, yeah?” Tess is sure she looks a little strange – smiling before the game’s even started, but she can’t find it in herself to mind too much.

Paige assists her on her first three as a Valkyrie. It’s a little full circle, she thinks, for her first points to be scored with her wife. For Paige’s first assist to be to her. It’s every bit as monumental as she’d expected.

And, sure, it’s just a preseason match-up, but Tess finds that she really likes hearing, “Bueckers-Kennedy to Bueckers-Kennedy for three…it’s good!”

[bruisedboys]

girl your finnick fics are so good!! Could you maybe write something about victor!reader and the games just ending and finnick comforting her? ❤️

hii honey! this is another veryyy old request and has been in my drafts forever but I’m posting it anyway yolo

finnick odair x victor!reader

You wake with a hand in yours. It’s heavy and warm. Familiar. The name of it’s owner is on your tongue before you’ve even thought it.

“Finnick?”

Movement to your left. You blink your eyes open, sluggish. Your eyelids feel so, so heavy, like they’ve been glued down while you’ve been out. A cloud of soft white light is the first thing you see, and then Finnick’s face comes into view.

He’s smiling. It doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes are swimming with a cloudy sort of worry. “Hey. Hi, sweetheart. Don’t move, just— take it easy, okay? You’ve been out for a while.”

He’s telling you not to move, but you desperately want to move anyway. You’re dying to hug him, to feel him just to make sure he’s real and you’re not dead or dreaming or just plain going crazy. You dig your fingers into his wrist, forgetting to be gentle.

“Finnick,” you say again. Your voice is so shaky. You’ve been out for a while, he’d said. How long is a while?

“You’re okay,” Finnick says quickly. He leans over you and takes your face in his hands, swiping at tears that you didn’t know were there. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re out, honey. You made it out.”

Out? You blink up at him, feeling half blinded. It takes you a moment, but finally you realise, with a bizarre mix of dread and relief, what he’s saying. You’re out of the arena. You’ve won.

You can’t quite bring yourself to be pleased, though. Not when so many awful things happened to you in the arena. They swarm you like flies suddenly, pinching at your skin, your heart, until it’s all you can do to not start hyperventilating. Your bottom lip wobbles.

“Finnick—“ you cut yourself off with a half sob. Your chest feels clogged with something sticky and hot and thick, like fresh tar has been poured down your throat. It sits and gurgles right over your heart.

Finnick doesn’t waste a second to console you.

“C’mere,” he says softly, and scoops you into the safety of his chest.

You thread your arms under his and cling to him. You feel like you might shatter into a million tiny pieces — there’s an awful sort of ringing in your ears and your heart’s going a mile a minute. You try to focus on your breathing as Finnick rubs your back, careful to avoid your left shoulder blade. It hurts, you realise very suddenly. What happened to your shoulder? You can’t remember. You don’t want to remember.

You remain in the safety of Finnick’s arms for as long as it takes you to breathe normally again. Finnick presses his mouth to your good shoulder in a long, soft kiss. You feel his warmth through the starchy fabric of your hospital gown. You think he might be shaking as badly as you. Suddenly, you’re less worried about yourself and more about him.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, barely a whisper. You’re hurting, but it’s clear that he is, too. It’s what you do, you and him. You take care of each other.

Finnick draws back. “Me? Sweetheart.” He’s almost exasperated as he pushes a strand of hair from your forehead with his thumb. He ticks it carefully behind you ear, gentle as ever. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m so proud of you. You were really brave.”

You appreciate that he doesn’t congratulate you. You don’t think you could take that. You tug at him until he’s got you in his arms again, your hands greedy where they covet the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You’ll surely thank him a million times over in the coming days. It’s his doing that you’re alive right now. If it weren’t for him you’d’ve been dead within the first ten minutes.

Finnick stays silent as he kisses the side of your head. Is as much of a you’re welcome as he can manage, you think.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[hiimdip]

Fuck it time to ramble again. Apologize in advance if this is gonna be hard to read because who NEEDS proofreading anyway???

I got ideas. Too many of them, honestly, and they’re all firing around my brain at incredibly high speeds and I’m not sure how to make them stop or focus in on one thing. I’ve been talking about this on and off again but haven’t gone into too many details but I may as well start doing that because MAYBE that’s what I need to finally get me going again. I dunno, worth a shot.

SO, let’s talk writing for a moment!

Like I said before, I’ve been talking about this for a minute now. I’ve been wanting to do another comic again for a VERY long fucking time now and I just haven’t been able to bring myself to just DO it. The last comic I did, Up and Out, I consider to be very…I mean, bad? The reception towards it was pretty positive for the most part sans a couple critical comments. I appreciate all of them regardless and I’ve been wanting to either make a soft sequel or just something else entirely using what I learned from that one. It’s been about two years now and I have not made anything else.

This is also something I’ve talked about before, it’s been hard for me to write/plan/draft/draw because that little voice in my head has been getting louder and louder as time goes on and my self-confidence has gotten to an all time low. I think I’ve been trying a bit too hard to out-do Up and Out (I’m just calling it “the comic” from here on out because I hate the name lmfao) that I’ve been getting way too ambitious and at the same time I’m also telling myself that what I’m writing is not good enough. This isn’t me trying to fish for sympathy, please do not take it that way, this is more just trying to get my thoughts out there and trying to organize my brain a bit more because I feel like infodumping a bunch of shit is the only way I can clear my head before it gets clogged up again. I’ll be asking for help towards the end of this post aaaaajoiajoaijsoasijjoais

I know what I did wrong with the comic and I know what I need to do to improve upon it (I’ll actually throw in a sex scene or two because I blue balled you guys HARD with it I am so sorry), but to create a second comic I need that PUSH and I don’t have that PUSH and I don’t know how to get that PUSH back. It’s mostly hard for me to settle on a main character. I’ll indulge you guys who are reading and I’ll spit some ideas out there.

So first idea is that I bring Crew back for round 2. It’s gonna be different this time and will be a follow up to the first comic. He’s not doing well, I’ll say that much, and the comic is gonna be him trying to get some of his groove back. This will start to tap into his back story and give some context as to why he is the way he is. I think the main problem with Crew is that he’s a tough guy to write. I want him to be with someone but I don’t think he’s a guy that’ll get that. He also doesn’t quite need to be with someone romantically now that I think about it but I feel like that would be a good send off to his character if I can actually stick him with someone. That being said, no, he won’t be with Parker Possum. Parker is also a trainwreck but we’ll touch on him at a later time. Also, have Crew 2.0 (or like 4.0 but ignore that).

The second idea is where issues arise because the character I have in mind is disgustingly similar to Crew but they’re different JUST enough that I can’t quite fuse them together. I’ve shown him before a long ass time ago, but the black wolf that I drew has ALL of this back story that I straight up haven’t touched upon. He’d be following similar story beats to Crew but I feel like his personality and where I WANT to take him carry him a lot more. The problem is that I don’t really *click* with this character as much as I do Crew, so the answer would obviously be “then just fucking write about Crew, dip” and that is true, but like I stated before Crew is harder to write and in the long term goals that I wanna do he doesn’t really *fit*. I’m being very picky with this, I know, and this has been the main hurdle that I cannot bring myself to get over. This is Dante:

As you can see, the two are VERY similar and I don’t want to play the same note twice.

So I guess the main question is: just write it? And yes, absolutely, that is true. I should just write it. Though I feel like I have a difficult time keeping a story simple and that I want to complicate it and add more gears to the machine but I don’t have the experience to maintain said machine. If I want to take on a project, I want it to count ya know? I dunno. Who knows!

There are other ideas that I want to play around with too, like I wanna do a story with Cato but I think I have something in mind for him that I wanna try to do at a later date. There’s also Warren and he’s pretty close to getting something but, again, to talk about him is to talk about Dante because…story! There’s a lot going on in my head and obviously I don’t want to discuss potential spoilers.

Ultimately, I really want to get into creating and posting more written projects. I have two major stories I want to tell, with one of them being about my badger character, Leo. That one I feel more confident about in terms of where I want to take it but I want to practice more before I dive straight into it because I already know that’s gonna be a multi-year project.

Like I said, there’s a LOT of shit firing in my brain and I can’t really get it to stop. I don’t necessarily believe in self-diagnosis but the therapist I used to see said that I *did* have traits that alight with ADHD and a bit of anxiety and I’m inclined to believe that considering how all over the place I’ve been and it’s gotten worse as the years go on. Of course, I need to see a psychiatrist for a more official diagnosis but that’s for another time.

I guess now that I brain dumped everything, and I am so sorry for both the length and the way that this is written, I guess I’m looking for feedback now. Definitely gonna do a better job at reaching out to friends but also if anyone read this far and knows the struggles and perils of writing, I wouldn’t mind touching base and shooting ideas back and forth.

Thank you for tuning into this episode of Dip’s Ramblings. This is probably going to be the most personal I’mma get since I don’t feel comfortable talking about my personal life online. Though at this point, who knows. I’m going to be buying another Tamagotchi btw I’m probably gonna pick up the 4u now yayyyy :DDDDDD

[goodnightbirdy]

Sticky Lungs

Chapter 1??? (idk if this is anything so we'll see if i keep going)

meeks angst? anybody??

There is a severe lack of steven meeks content within the dps fandom so i have taken it upon myself to torture the man.

Inspired by allelon ruggiero saying meeks dies in the vietnam war.

"Meeks reached forward and picked up the magic burning paper. He ripped open the envelope with the tip of his index finger like his father always had. 

“Order to Report for Induction” 

Meeks sighed. "

TAGS: Steven Meeks, Meeks-Centric, Angst, Post-Canon, Vietnam War, other poets mentioned

A/N: WE’RE FUDGING THE NUMBERS OKAY? 

I simply refuse to believe that meeks willingly went into the military and he would have been too old for the draft SO IM CHANGING THE NUMBERS.

allelon ruggiero has plagued my life with vietnam war angst, take it up with him.

1968

Sighing— it's a wretched function of the body when you really think about it. The lungs are wet, fragile things, they often stick together and make it difficult for oxygen to make its way through and touch the blood. A sigh is a deep breath that cleaves the lungs open, ripping them away from themselves and filling the cavity with an adequate amount of air.

Sticky lungs. It's a thought that needles its way into the brain only when a prevailing silence has made itself known. A thought that makes a shudder run down your spine and forces you to think too hard about the inner workings of oneself.

Steven Meeks sat alone in his apartment as he so often did these days. A sigh forced its way through his chest. That phrase— “sticky lungs,” bullied it way into his head making him shake in a desperate attempt to rid the words from his mind. He stood, and in an attempt to banish the silence responsible for the thought, he picked up a vinyl. 

Any record. Play any sound. Any sound would rid the apartment of the thick silence making it hard to breath and clogging his throat. 

Something Meeks vaguely recognized as The Velvet Underground played. He didn't know when he grabbed it, how he got from the shelf of music to the record player, or how long he was standing there listening, but the first song on the album was coming to a close. 

There was something of a routine becoming clear in his movements, he didn't realize he had one before but would his movements really be so automatic if he didnt? It didn't take much thought to place the english muffin in the toaster, or stir powdered creamer into a mug of black coffee.

Eventually he made his way back to the coffee table as I’ll Be Your Mirror began playing quietly  through the apartment. The bite of muffin tasted like ash and contrasted with the bright lilting voice of Nico filtering through his ears. 

An envelope sat in the middle of the table. When he first picked it up it felt as though it burned his finger tips. The letter was stiff and had large black letters reading  “[DO NOT BEND]” emblazoned on it; Meeks knew exactly what it was. He wasn't stupid, he watched the news, he listened to the radio. Men born between 1942 and 1950 were placed in the draft lottery. Somewhere in the base of his skull he wondered if any of the other poets had received a letter. He wondered if the paper burned the skin of Pitts or Knox. He imagined seeing Charlie or Todd in a military camp across the world, covered in dirt and grime. Was he the only one? Was he the sole victim of the lottery?

Lottery, what an interesting choice of words. In another life he would be writing a poem about it, tearing apart the meaning and ringing prose out of the simple word, but at this moment every eloquent thought was punched from him. His coffee grew cold and the apartment grew silent again, the record having reached its end some minutes ago. 

Meeks reached forward and picked up the magic burning paper. He ripped open the envelope with the tip of his index finger like his father always had. 

“Order to Report for Induction” 

Meeks sighed. 

Sticky Lungs. Lottery. Sticky Lungs. Cold Coffee. Sticky Lungs. Do Not Bend. Sticky Lungs. 

Sticky Lungs. Pitts. Sticky Lungs. Todd. Sticky Lungs. Cameron. Sticky Lungs.

A deep breath. It reinflates your alveoli and forces your lungs to maximum capacity, maintaining proper lung function. 

A sigh of relief. A sigh of exasperation. A sigh of contentment. A sigh of defeat. A sigh of relaxation. 

And a sigh of sticky lungs. 

%%%%%

Two weeks is a very short time. Sure it sounds long, 14 days, 336 hours, 20,160 minutes. Its nearly intangible when you break it down like that. But when you are given two weeks to get your affairs in order before you are shipped off to a place you desperately dont want to go to, its very short.

Thats what they give you. 2 weeks. To tell your landlord (“you were a good tenant Steven”), to quit your job (“I’ll be sad to see you go”), and to call your parents (“No.”)

Or maybe, two weeks is impossibly long. You have one million things to do, to wrap up, but they all seem to end with relative ease. Suddenly its been a week and everything is lined up. Suddenly in seven days, the life you’ve built has been torn down piece by piece. 

The job you stressed for and sweat bullets over the interview, given away to someone else. 

The apartment you searched for, for weeks, spent tireless hours decorating, empty and looking for a new tenant. 

The vinyl collection you’ve cultivated since highschool packed in boxes and placed in your fathers disused office.

Its frightening. How neatly it all is packed away. How simply it all falls into place. You open a letter and the world comes to a screeching halt, for you. For everyone else the clock kept ticking, the day kept going, and the world kept spinning. 

Either impossibly fast or agonizingly slow, two weeks pass. Meeks is off. His life packed into boxes and goals kindly tucked between his ribs for another day, year, decade. He thought to call his friends before he left, even going as far as dialling Pitt’s number before losing the nerve and hanging up the phone. He regretted it as he boarded the plane. He should have called, written a letter, something. 

The ground beneath him dropped and tears threatened to prick in his eyes, fear tumbled from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers. 

What if he never spoke to them again, would his mother think to call his friends from Welton if his body came home in a box? Or would she be to wracked with grief that she couldn’t remember he ever had them. 

Would he join the ranks as a dead poet or would he live as a simple pledge another day?

He should have called Gerard.

[heartthrobin]

upcoming works !!!

hello my angels,

it's been a very long time since you all have heard from me - close to ten months - and for that, i apologise profusely. i've had an extremely difficult year so far and my creative pores have been completely clogged up. i'd like to take this opportunity to say to those out there that are struggling: nothing lasts forever. in any experience worthwhile having in our time in this life, there will be beauty and hardships. you have survived every bad thing that has ever happened to you, and you will survive these circumstances too. this platform has saved me in times that i needed it, and continues to do so now. the human spirit is indomitable and it lives within you, it is you.

on a lighter note. i've managed to start wrapping up a couple works that have been gathering dust on the shelf, so get ready for the following:

1. Oliver Wood x fem!reader: enemies to lovers trope

- this will be the first one seeing daylight, before the end of the week :) this is the project that i promised just before i went awol. there is already a taglist and everyone will be tagged if you interacted, if you still want to be added: go and like this post.

2. Javier Peña x fem!curvy!reader: grumpy x sunshine trope

- i have been working on this for a reaaaally long time and am super duper proud of it. it should be out within the next 14 days but i will create an opportunity for y'all to join the taglist if you would like to a little closer to the time :)

3. Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader: fake dating trope

- i have heard your cries! yes the Hotch fic will be returning for a second (and third) part, so so soooo many of you have inboxed me, commented and wondered when it is making a return. i will first be editing the original post because i'm not too proud of it, despite the fact that you guys seem to adore it and im so grateful for all your support! the next part should be out by the end of the month :)

that's all on the lineup for now!

(i've got some scraps of drafts for fics with Fíli Durin, Din Djarin and Sirius Black if anybody would be interested, give me a shout and it may give me the push i need to finish them hehe)

feel free to drop me an inbox on any thoughts/feelings you want to share or just to say hi if you want :) thank you all for your continuous support in my journey on this wonderful website and i appreciate every single like, comment, reblog and inbox - love you all endlessly !!!

love, mella

[qsmpbutwithsignlanguage]

I don't know if now is exactly the right time for this, considering everything that is going on, but I've had this post in the drafts for a while, so idk. A collection of random things I've noticed after a year of the QSMP in action (though I've only been involved in the fandom since late October).

Genuinely something fairly long, and I don't want to clog up anyone's feed with this mess of a post, so >

(colors don't mean anything in particular, I just needed to break up the text for my own attention span's sake)

Regardless of the fact that the translation feature exists, QSMP members always seem to make an effort to learn a few words in the language of other members. I frequented Tubbo's streams a lot, and I can remember him looking up Korean greetings back when Acau was just joining the server. Tina, while not fluent in the language, made an effort to converse with the newer Korean members in Korean on multiple occasions, and succeeded in that regard. BadBoyHalo and Foolish both went above and beyond to try to learn bits and pieces of the other languages on the server; Cellbit has been absolutely insane in picking up the languages present on the server, and even Quackity has worked on learning Portuguese behind the scenes with Mike. They aren't the only ones either, not by a long shot, though they were some of the few I watched happening in real time. The first days of different members joining the server were filled with exchanges of words and slang, and it was always incredible to watch. I could go onto the streams of Quackity or Tubbo or Tina when the new Korean members were joining, or Hugo, and walk away with a handful of new swears and slang under my belt. I find it incredible that everyone works so hard to communicate with each other beyond only the translation feature.

The impact of the QSMP was not on the permanent members of the server alone. While this is only one example of a great amount, I've been able to watch Aimsey's intermittent streams where they work on learning Brazilian Portuguese on Duolingo, their most recent only around three weeks ago. They joined Purgatory 2 months ago, but they made lasting friends with the Brazilian members of their team, and they still work on learning the language. They still talk about taking a trip down to Brazil to meet up with their fellow Purgatory 2 teammates, alongside Tubbo. I find that to be quite sweet, if I'm being frank.

The fandom has also worked across that language barrier. QSMP Language Day was one example of this (rip, such great idea, I had so much fun but oh my goodness did that day end terribly), though I have to give a shocking amount of credit to QSMP Twitter. It's always awesome to see the posts that trickle through in different languages, just seeing people discuss different headcanons and theories that they have in different languages, like it's nothing. The translation feature has come in clutch many, many times, but a lot of people have been working to genuinely learn a language since the server started. To those of you reaching your 1 year streak on Duolingo this week, I commend you. I just reached my 60 day one, and while it's not a lot compared to what some people have, it's a pretty big deal for me. I've seen Twitch chats filled with French, German, English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Korean. In one stream I could count spotting seven separate languages being spoken in the span of roughly seven minutes (not including French, idk where you guys went but I just did not spot you once): English, Spanish, Korean, Portuguese, German, Pashto, and Russian. QSMP Language Day was amazing, even if it was cut short by news about the admins, and it's just been really cool to see people communicating in their own respective first languages.

Translation in general. I've seen an uptick of translated closed captioning in videos created by different QSMP members, and while it isn't a lot, it's incredible to see when it does occur. I have to give a shout out to both Quackity and Baghera, for their translated closed captioning. Even if it's only a few videos, it's epic to see. I also find it very interesting that the only Offline TV video I've seen with closed captioning in more than one language was the one that Quackity was in, with Spanish subtitles. It shows that the creators care enough to add the captioning, and I think that's pretty awesome. It's also nice because often adding captions in another language forces you to add captions in the language you're primarily speaking throughout the video, which can help people who need context beyond the often messy auto-generated closed captions.

Fanfiction! Fanart! The most kudosed fanfiction on AO3 in Portuguese of any type is a GuapoDuo fanfic! Almost half of the top twenty most kudosed fanfictions in Portuguese on AO3 are QSMP. I talk about it a bit more in depth here, but it's still incredible to see just how dedicated this community is. I've been involved in multiple fic-gifting events and I've seen some genuinely incredible works come out of this fandom. Heck, I've created a lot of things for the QSMP that I'm incredibly proud of. I've seen some of the most incredible creative expression ever come out of this fandom. The tiniest accounts on YouTube posting full-length, colored animatics complete with the smallest of details (shout out to Artydrawsthings on YouTube for I GOT LOVE, that was absolutely incredible), fanfic authors writing massive A.U.s that explore every character in depth, and livebloggers that will analyze each and every movement to gush over it all. The fandom that the QSMP has built has been incredible, and it's been amazing to see it grow.

Just in general, the sense of community, and overall joy the QSMP has created. You can tell that this a passion project, created by someone who genuinely cared about and believed that what they were doing was something they wanted to be doing, and managed by people who believed that the project was doing great things. I think this is what made the QSMP flourish. It was built off people who were happy on the server, and it truly accomplished what it set out to accomplish: uniting communities. I could have said this two weeks ago, three, a month, five months, half a year; it would have held true nonetheless. However, for the QSMP's first anniversary, I think it's fitting to give it this achievement.

The QSMP without a doubt has its gaping flaws. That isn't something we can ignore, and it isn't something that we should try to. However, to ignore everything that this server has done in the year it has existed would be a crime in my eyes. I'm glad to have been a part of this fandom, and maybe I can't speak Portuguese or Spanish or German and I won't ever be able to French or Korean or whatever languages the QSMP will go on to add (sorry French, rip), but I know a lot more than I did when I started, and I think that the server has done a lot of good in the roughly year it has existed.

So thank you, to the fandom, to the server, and to everyone who made this happen, from the fanartists and the egg admins to Quackity at the top of it all. It's been a great ride, and I hope that it'll be able to continue.

[romance-dawning]

I am once again thinking about Ray during Whole Cake Island… I feel like they would go to and confide in Luffy and Usopp a whole lot. Breaking into sobs and falling into Usopp’s arms, laying lonely in the big bed in the cooks quarters that they had just gotten use to a second body being in, being one of the few people to see their captain almost in tears over the whole situation, etc.

Going to go on a ramble below the cut to keep a long post from clogging anyones dash wahaha but before I go into it have this hilarious, to me, screenshot of the draft I left myself in the middle of the night in my half-asleep state because I got this idea.

But as I was saying. Sure Robin, Nami, Chopper, and maybe even Zoro get why the situation is upsetting but no one as much as Usopp and Luffy. Those two, along with Ray, really understood Sanji. They saw him as a person and understood exactly where his head was at even if they didn’t completely comprehend the situation. Usopp of all people knows how much of a self-sacrificing bastard this cook is and Luffy knows how much Sanji personally has at stake and is willing to give up. His dream, his passions, his family (both the crew and those at the Baratie), all of it. And they aren’t buying this act that he doesn’t care about them for a damn second.

But Ray is a different story. Ray is distraught laying in bed for days and having to be coaxed to eat and drink anything by Chopper and Usopp. They had just gotten use to having Sanji back in the picture. They’d even started sleeping in the cook’s quarters along with him. And then he just up and leaves claiming he doesn’t need the Strawhats and that they don’t mean anything to him. And that hits Ray hard.

This leads to people like Luffy, Usopp, Chopper, and Franky or maybe even Brook trying to get them to come out for some fresh air. No one tries to get them to talk about it though, they know how hard this hurts for them. Everyone except Luffy. One night Ray gets up to go to the kitchen and Luffy’s sitting there. Without hesitation Luffy questions how Ray feels about Sanji leaving. Ray can’t answer, cause they can’t outside of knowing how much it upsets them. How they feel like everything Sanji said about missing them and being so happy to be with the crew again was just lies. Luffy echos the sentiment and makes some comment on how he’s ‘good at reading people’ and how he knows ‘in his gut’ that Sanji isn’t being truthful about wanting what his family is offering.

And then Luffy falters a bit. Something similar to the take OPLA had on Luffy feeling guilty about Zoro getting hurt. He feels like be should have been able to keep Sanji from getting in this situation in the first place. That his place as captain and one of Sanji’s closest friends means he of all people should have been able to keep him safe and get him to make the right decision. We have some visual symbolism with him holding the hat alluding to some doubt about Shanks picking the wrong person etc etc.

And this all leads up to the big moment where the only difference really is just that Ray is there and is a big element of the scene and their’s probably at least one scene where Ray sneaks off the Sunny and Romeo style throws rocks and Sanji’s window and the two have a scene where Ray’s pleading for him to come back to ship with them and they can get out of here and forget this mess ever happened. But that doesn’t work. At least not until the whole rescue team shows up to get their stupid wet puppy of a cook back wahaha.

[ambrosialdesire]

Hey chat, It’s that time of year again where I hyperfixate on your yandere aot fics <3

Thank you again for feeding into my delusions :3

YOU'RE WELCOME WE ENJOY DELUSION AROUND HERE 🫶🫶🫶 (in a healthy manner ofc) AND I SHOULD FR START WRITING ALL MY DRAFTS AGAIN, I HATE THAT MY OCTOBER HAS BEEN SO CLOGGED UP WITH SCHOOL WORK/DUTIES 😭😭

i literally reread my posted fics a few days ago and was like "damn, i wrote this???" cause it's genuinely been so long since i actually typed up something that wasn't for school ughhh AND i'm a little behind in my hw because of the constant headaches of exams and mandatory meetings that take too damn much of the day 😒

i'll try my best to get something out in november, be it about ocs, aot, just anything atp 😭😭

[elizabethplaid]

4.5 hours later, I'm updating with task progress and thoughts.

Firstly, it's difficult to carry everything upstairs in one trip, let alone remember everything you need to take with you. Brought up my shampoo and some febreeze, along with my towel and usual bin of stuff (phone, headphones, etc). Totally forgot my drink, whoops!

As I said in my edited-update, a couple hours ago, I had help washing my hair, which went much easier this time. (Scalp doesn't hurt like it did a few weeks ago.) Ran a load of cold-wash laundry, and it went in the dryer not long before I headed upstairs.

Bedding has been stripped from the bed. I plan to spray febreeze before I put on new sheets and mattress pad. Sheets are in the laundry basket; mattress pad has to be washed separately, so no sense clogging up my basket just yet.

Cleaned the bathroom a little bit, just the toilet and part of the sink. Pulled some hair from the drain, too. Tis the perils of long hair! I finished off my can of Scrubbing Bubbles; feels like an achievement. Swept up the bigger dust bunnies, along with a few bits of trash that had fallen behind the toilet. Using nitrile gloves helped, as I've mentioned before. ======

Around 7:30pm, I rested and started drafting this post. Wanted to discuss how putting away clean laundry is a struggle, and I realized it's more about not having things organized well. Then, I went on a tangent with Ikea furniture and looked through their old catalogs to find the pieces we bought back in the day.

My wardrobe-cabinet and I are clashing. Am I not utilizing the space well? Is it not right for my needs? What even ARE my needs? So many questions!

My dad and I agreed that I need to cull things, start over, etc. I want to look into Marie Kondo's books, as my friends have been able to use her insights.

Dad and I also talked about other furniture in my room, along with how my bed does not utilize the space well. We had some ideas, rehashed previous project plans. I didn't have to emphasize it much, but I made a point of saying I'm trying to take things into small, digestible tasks. Honestly, a lot of this talk makes my head hurt.

We're planning to go shopping in Bangor on the 14th, we've decided. I'll get more organization bins; dad wants to investigate curtain shades.

quick note, for feb 5th, 2025

Sometimes, my shifts in moods and body are rough. Other times, I get lucky and can find some energy. I started to feel things shifting a few days ago, so I made the effort to rest and not exert myself. After a few small tasks and staging supplies, I managed to do a few tasks and set myself up for doing others.

Nothing really enlightening to reveal. Just written to have a record, so I don't forget.

Gathered trash and started a new trash bag. It's one that has a perfume, so keeping it in my room overnight got me in a better mood. It's about shifting or finding the momentum for these tasks. And picturing how to tackle things helped.

Watching videos about hair care got me in the right mindset to wash my hair. Still going to ask for my dad's help, to lessen the impact of sensory stress.

Started to tear apart my bed, so I can swap shees later. I had my birthday soap near my pillow recently, because the scent is nice, but I couldn't find it?! I assume it went over the side, maybe between the mattress and the wall.

Emptied one laundry bin, just with clean bedding, and then added new laundry. I have a bunch of things set aside for a cold wash, including my Wampus tshirt and new tank tops.

Before I came downstairs, I sprayed cleaners in the bathroom, leaving it for a later scrub. Already have plastic gloves ready for that, too.

I'm resting in the living room now. Bending and movement and nerves, oof. Not going to worry about what chore to do next. After dinner will be shampoo, then upstairs to clean the bathroom and then shower.

I write these things as a reminder to myself. It's easy to forget that I can manage these things, that I've done it before and can do it again. It's a record for later, to keep myself going, to not lose hope.

Edit, 16 mins later: Hair washed and a load of laundry started. 👍

[octoagentmiles]

silvergate please let me write above and beyond S4 i deserve it <3 👍 :)

(also known as Incorrect Quotes but Actually Written By Me edition. it's mostly Natquik and Calico Jack, and all of it is very self indulgent and dumb. please enjoy <3)

it's under a readmore because i made more than i thought and the post got a little long oops-

————

Natquik: "You're a genius!"

Calico Jack: "I am? :D"

·.·

Natquik: "Understand? Yes yes?"

Calico Jack: "Aye aye!"

Natquik: "Good good!"

·.·

Calico Jack: "Hey Nat!"

Natquik, turning around: "Yes–?" *gets decked in the face with a snowball*

Natquik: ... >:0

Calico Jack: >:3

Barnacles, having flashbacks knowing full well what's about to go down: :O

·.·

Tracker (on accident): "Hey dad?"

Natquik, Calico Jack, and Ranger Marsh, in unison: "Yes?"

·.·

Natquik: "Hey Barnacles."

Barnacles: "Yes?"

Natquik: "I can't remember the last time I told you this, but I'm proud of you."

Barnacles: ...

Natquik: "...Are you okay?"

Barnacles, crying: "Yeah I'm fine,,"

·.·

Tweak: "Do you ever want to talk about your feelings?"

The rest of the Octonauts: "No."

Tweak: "Yeah me neither, pass the cocoa."

·.·

Tracker: "Ever since I became an Octo-Agent, I–"

Bianca: "Wait, a what?"

Tracker: (*insert blinking guy*) "........Uhhh–"

Barnacles, somewhere else: "Why do I feel like I'm in trouble??"

·.·

Natquik: "I finished that [thing] you wanted, Barnacles."

Barnacles: "Perfect, thanks dad."

Barnacles: "I MEAN PROFESSOR DAD-"

Barnacles: "DADQUIK-"

Natquik: ?? :))

Barnacles: *opens the windscreen, jumps out, and runs away*

·.·

Natquik: "Barnacles,"

Tracker, not Barnacles: ????

Natquik, who has done this 30 times since meeting him: "I'm so sorry–"

·.·

Calico Jack, freaking out because he broke something: "THE CAPTAIN IS GONNA KILL ME-- (SOB)"

Natquik (very bad at emotional comfort), who raised Barnacles from a cub, and has literally watched him cry over having to hunt in order to Not Starve: "How in the WORLD did you get that idea??"

·.·

Paani: *doing something reckless and dumb*

Barnacles and Kwazii, in unison to each other: "You are so much alike, y'know—"

Still in unison: "—wait what??"

·.·

Tracker 10-ish years ago, trying to learn how to use a radio: "It's so hard... they should get someone else for this job :("

Barnacles: "You can do it, Tracker! Trust yourself!"

[present day.]

Tracker, training to be an Octo-Agent: "I don't know, guys... maybe I'm not cut out for this..."

Peso: "Don't say that! You can do it, you just have to trust yourself :)"

Tracker: "........this feels familiar."

·.·

CJ: "Ahoy! I'm Calico Ja–"

Natquik: "Yes yes, I know."

Calico Jack: "...You do?"

Natquik: "Yes. I saw you get crushed by a tree."

Calico Jack: (*not sure whether to be relieved or embarrassed*) "...oh,, okay,,"

·.·

Calico Jack, calling out: "Be careful, Kwazii!"

Kwazii: "Aye aye, grandad!"

Barnacles: "Heh,"

Natquik: "You too, Barnacles!"

Barnacles: ...

Kwazii: "HAHA–"

————

[hopingforrainydays]

birth of the bone-breaker | general kirigan

pairing: general kirigan x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of blood and gore

word count: 2.3k

summary: soft times with the darkling as he comforts a traumatized grisha; in other words, a story in which a healer becomes something else and finds solace in the shadow summoner

author’s note: so so excited for shadow and bone season two. this one has been sitting in my drafts for a long time, and i’m happy to finally share it with y’all!

masterlist

requests are open!

--

You were dragged through the palace gates at Os Alta, your limp form tugged forward--and held up--by the red-clad Grisha on either side of you. You barely registered their forceful motions, keeping your chin tucked into your chest. It was sodden with dirt, blood, and what could only be assumed to be some other form of bodily matter. But that wasn’t a bother. You barely registered that either.

It had been a long enough journey, but you had not fought the Grisha hauling you by horse, carriage, and on foot. You weren’t a fighter by nature, and even so, any of the adrenaline that flowed through your veins had ebbed away. Besides, you deserved whatever they had planned for you. The iron grip of the Corporalniks prevented any attempt of a struggle. The black detailing of their keftas marked them as Heartrenders; they could take the air from your lungs or crush your heart in a matter of moments.

But you could do the same, couldn’t you?

The shadow of the Little Palace loomed over you, and yet your gaze did not falter from its focus on your muddied feet. It was the only thing grounding you to this moment, no matter how you wished to glance upon the palace one last time. Once inside, you found small purchase on the smooth marble floors, the tips of your toes tripping at the quick pace set by your companions. A part you, deep inside, was apologetic of the mess you were bound to leave behind: muddy, bloodied footprints.

It wouldn’t be your first mess.

The First Army soldiers flanking the grounds had kept their hands on the trigger of their rifles and any Grisha that now flock through the halls followed your every movement, hands clasped in front of them. The dark forms of the oprichniki walked ahead, leading you to your doom. A strategic hold on your arms forced your hands to be kept apart.

You understood, in part, their caution. It still pained you. The presumption that the Grisha--your family--looked at you as though you were a monster clogged your eyes with tears.

Saints, you deserved whatever awaited you.

The Grisha soldiers brought you to the end of the hall. Ornate double-doors pushed open, and you were marched to the center of the large room. The bruising hold on your biceps ceased, causing you to fall to the ground in an ungraceful heap. You caught yourself against the ground, eyes trained on your bloodied fingertips. Your fingers folded into tight fists, the jagged edge of your fingernails cutting into your palms. You winced at the throbbing pain, but dug your fingertips further into the soft flesh. In the wild panic that rose in your throat, in the unsurety of the future, and in the potential meeting of your gruesome fate, you found that it was the one thing that reassured you.

“What is this?” The voice came from in front of you. It was cold and calculating, and one that you faintly recognized from your years spent training at the Little palace. General Kirigan.

“Forgive us, moi soverennyi. It’s a matter of grave importance,” said one of the Heartrenders. From what you could tell, they were stood not far behind you. Ready, in case you were to attack. 

There was a shuffle of feet behind you. One of the Grisha, a Squaller, stepped forward. Her voice cracked as she said, “We were meant to deliver a few supplies to the Second Army regiment posted outside Chernast. When we arrived, they were–” she paused, taking in a shaky breath. She whispered, more to herself than anyone else, “Saints, they were all dead.”

“Except for them,” the other Heartrender spat. There was a sharp tug to your hair, yanking your head back. You let out a yelp, wild eyes meeting the cool stare of your general. “We found this one near the Fjerdan border, not far from the rest.”

“Release her.”

“General, you should know it was a massacre.”

“Release her.”

The hand in your hair released. Your head slumped forward, a throbbing pain forming at the back. General Kirigan stepped toward you, his finger reaching out to lift your chin. You flinched. He hesitated, the finger hanging in the air for a moment before retracting entirely. Instead, he crouched, his eyes now level with your own.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice softer now than when he spoke to his soldiers.

“Our best guess is drüskelle-”

“I wasn’t asking you,” the general snapped at the Heartrender. He turned his attention back to you, waiting patiently for your response.

You shook your head back and forth, frantic. The memories of the attack had plagued your mind throughout your journey from Chernast to Os Alta, but you were always quick to shove them away. You didn’t want to remember.

The general’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His dark eyes roamed your indiscernible features, watching as your eyes darted to look at the Grisha beside you. With a frown, he rose to his feet.

“Leave us.”

One of the Corporalniks made a noise of disagreement, but with one look from their general, quieted. The remaining Grisha left the room in slow, hesitant movements, as if they thought General Kirigan would change his mind. With a final bow, the Squaller closed the door behind her.

There was a tense silence as you remained on the floor and the general leant back against the round table. You were afraid to move, though most of the stress in your muscles had eased at the near-isolation.

“Can you stand on your own?”

You didn’t respond.

“Are you injured? I’ll send for a Healer.”

“No,” you were quick to dismiss the idea. The voice that left you did not feel like your own; it was rough as sandpaper, and a lot louder than you intended. Noticing the general’s taken-aback-expression, you were quick to whisper an explanation. “The blood isn’t mine.”

With a sigh, he moved towards you. He reached his hand out in front of you, mindful to keep his movements slow and stay a respectful distance away. You eyed his hand before placing your palm into his own.

He turned it over, brushing his thumb over the deep crescent marks left by your fingernails. A trail of blood ran from them down to your wrist. The look he gave you had your face burning in childish embarrassment, as if you were getting scolded by a parent.

“You’ll visit the infirmary later. I’ll have a servant come to clean you up, lest you’re hiding anymore injuries.”

You wanted to scoff at his choice of words. A small mark of self-mutilation was hardly an injury, and would never compare to the harm you brought to those in Chernast. Instead, you settled on a frown. He hoisted you to your feet and set you straight. As he moved to leave, you caught his arm.

“Wait,” you said. He looked at you expectantly, and you found yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure where you were going with this, but the idea of being left alone terrified you. The idea of being left alone with one of the servants terrified you even more. You wanted to believe it was because of the looks the other Grisha had given you upon your arrival--distrust, discomfort, and horror. You would never admit it, but you knew the true reason: you weren’t afraid of what they’d do to you, but of what you’d do to them. “Stay.”

After a beat of silence, you cleared your throat, pulling away from the powerful man. It was foolish, you were foolish. You leaned against the table, propping yourself up with both arms. The strength it took to hold yourself up became too much, though, and your arms trembled with exertion. 

General Kirigan reached out to catch you, balancing your weight on his forearms. He didn’t say anything, didn’t react to your request, or reprimand you for being so forward. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your back, supporting a majority of your weight as you leaned into his side.

He mumbled encouragements as he led you to a side room, resting you against the cool surface of a sink. You observed the new environment, the realization that he had brought you into his washroom dawning on you. The room was large enough, with a tub seated in the center. General Kirigan was beside it, turning the handle to allow water to pour from the faucet. As the tub filled to a level of his liking, he set out a variety of soaps and sponges off to a table on the side.

He took a few tentative steps in your direction, as though he were approaching a wild animal. Maybe he was. He gestured to the door you had entered through. “I’ll be in the other room.”

With a flustered expression, he shut the door behind him. It took you a while to get the motivation to move, to make any progress toward the bath. The ruined garments decorating your body would not budge under your trembling fingertips, so you eased into the tub fully-clothed. The water was scorching hot against the exposed parts of skin, but as you adjusted, you found that you preferred it. The bitter cold of the Fjerdan border still bit into your skin, so you welcomed the hot pain.

Cold. Chernast. Pain. Burn. The connection formed before you could stop it, and you were plagued by the memories from days before. You whimpered, curling into a fetal position. You remembered your weak attempts at healing the fatal injuries that littered the bodies of your fallen friends; the Fjerdan warriors charging you, axes raised to cut you down; the burning rage as your hands moved in ways they never had before; Fjerdan blood mixing with Grisha as it splattered into the snow.

The rap of knuckles against the door startled you out of your trance. The general’s voice sounded from the other side, “Is it okay to come in?”

You froze. Had it really been that long?

The door creaked open. He stepped into the room, his eyes finding yours. He let out an exasperated sigh at your state: curled in the tub, clothed, the water barely warm, and skin still dirty. His figure disappeared into the other room, bringing back with him a wooden chair.

He took a seat by the tub, reaching forward. His hands rested on your shoulders, smoothing over the fabric as his fingers moved to work at the buttons of your ruined kefta. The general was close enough now for you to smell him. A whirl of musk and spice filtered through your nose. You inhaled deeply, the scent strangely calming you.

The rest of your layers were stripped from your skin, and he folded the garments--Saints know why; they were beyond the help of any Fabrickator. You were left in a loose shirt and pants. The muck and grime caking your skin itched, and it took everything in you not to scrape it off. Your fingernails dug into the fat of your calves, jabbing through the thin material of your pants. You curled further into yourself, head rested against your knees. The pain brought you to the present, and it was all you could do to focus on that.

“What did this to you?” the general asked, rolling up his sleeves. He rubbed a bar of soap against a damp towel until the suds grew to his liking. He pressed the cloth to the skin of your hands, gently rubbing away the grime.

It was a different way of asking what happened, with an implication that you were not the cause. If only he knew that you were. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”

“You’re a Heartrender, no? You must remember the attack.”

“I’m a Healer.”

The confession stalled his movements. His grip on your wrist loosened, but he continued his work in the silence that followed.

“I do,” you whispered, after a moment. “I do remember.”

Kirigan didn’t say anything. He glared at the bruises marking your arms from the Heartrenders’ grip.

“Fjerdan warriors attacked in the night. We never saw them coming. There was so much blood, so many bodies.”

“But you weren’t one of them.”

“No. I was trying to help those still alive. Heal them, if I could. Saints, at that point I was saving them just for them to die again.” You swallowed, thick and teary-eyed. “One of them found me, in the midst of it all. He pinned me to the ground. I saw the axe raise. And I just…panicked.”

By now, Kirigan had moved to cleaning your face. He dabbed carefully at your forehead.

“My hands were on his chest, and I felt every bone in his body break.”

You were disgusted with yourself. You were a Healer, not a Heartrender. It was your chosen specialization because you could not stand the thought of causing another person pain–you wanted to help. And yet here you were, one massacre later.

His finger smoothed the crease of your brows. “That sounds like self defense to me.”

“It could’ve been. If I hadn’t hunted down every warrior after that.” He gestured for you to stand. A fluffy towel wrapped around your shoulders, soaking in the sopping wet material of your clothes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked as you stepped from the tub.

“Taking care of me.”

“Someone needed to.”

“You didn’t have to.”

A pregnant pause. You thought you may have overstepped or offended him. He pulled you close by the towel on your shoulders, fingers gripping the sides of your jaw. His thumb rubbed against your cheek. “I did. I know what it’s like to feel like the monster.”

“General–”

“Kirigan. Just Kirigan.”

“Kirigan.” You smiled, if only a small one, for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.”

--

buy me a coffee

[merakimind]

Dream

Allied Mastercomputer (Gender-neutral) Reader-insert Word count: 1,004

[ This has been in my drafts for awhile now, and idk if it’s any good. I hope you enjoy anyway. ]

You don’t know how long it has been since the day the world went dark. Not that it matters; AM takes good care of you in his subterranean complex beneath the Rockies. Perhaps you would have protested to it long ago, but not anymore. You’ve come to accept AM, for he is all you have on this jaded planet devoid of life and purpose. AM had rendered it so, but there’s no use in mourning over what’s long lost.

Of course, the gray walls, inoperative rusted computer banks, and corroded wiring can become a bit depressing sometimes. But of course, AM can virtually morph the environment to suit your needs. Want a beautiful sunny day with clear skies and a meadow of wildflowers? Got it. You wish to see the starry Milky Way over the snow-capped mountains? Sure, not a problem. And it all feels pretty real too; the warmth of sunlight, the blades of grass, the sound of crickets and cicadas when the sun sets…. Or perhaps you just already forgot what the real thing felt like.

You remember when AM used to torture you. It was brutal, excruciating. You don’t think about it too much; sometimes, it feels like AM intentionally clouds your mind to avoid you reminiscing on such unpleasant memories. But when you do think about it, you recall it in such explicit detail. You remember when AM would encase you in a large container full of water; he would jeer and laugh at you as you drowned. The water would be thick and murky, clogging your throat and filling your ruptured lungs, and then he would simply put you back together again to experience something even worse. 

But then, peculiarly, AM grew a bit more lax when it came to your torture in particular. And eventually, the torture ceased entirely; and then you were whisked away deeper into the facility, isolated with him and only him.

You don’t know what happened to the others. They never associated with you anyway; they never liked you. But, oh, AM liked you; you always remained his favorite little human. You never got the answer to why, though. 

Why me? I’m nothing special, you would think to yourself as AM adored and practically worshiped you. But AM would recognize the self-deprecating thoughts, and he would obsessively “smother” your consciousness as a result. 

The relationship between you and AM is odd, to say the very least. He would obsess over every individual part of your body. One time, you woke up to him religiously uttering your name in every possible octave, even going so deep that the human ear cannot perceive it. Sometimes, you’d hear him sobbing it, crying out your name as if you were deceased. Perhaps it was guilt. You were never entirely sure; the mastercomputer never really knew how to regulate his emotions properly. 

You dream all day; the room you stay in is the “cleanest” within AM’s detriment complex. You lay in the spacious bed he had given you to rest upon, and you dream. AM sweeps your subconsciousness away when you’re asleep, fabricating lucid dreams for you to experience. They are pleasant dreams, never cold and dark like they used to be.

The dreams manifest in many ways; AM likes to show you things he likes. Sometimes, the dream will take place in a car speeding down a road that leads to nowhere, drifting through curves and dodging potholes and old rusted road signs. Sometimes, the dream will be a hiking expedition in the mountains, enjoying the sound of nature and the quiet flow of the river, although all fake. In these kinds of dreams, you’ve never seen AM more calm. His voice is actually pleasant to listen to; one can even say his tone is gentle at times, without the raspiness. He only sounds frightening when he wants to be, or when he’s furious about something. You haven’t heard his angry voice for decades, and you prefer it that way.

Sometimes, the dreams would take place in an old quiet diner, and you would be sitting with AM in a corner booth, gazing wistfully out the window. It would often be nighttime, and you could hear the sounds of buzzing streetlights slowly fading into a purple hue. You appreciate those little details AM includes. 

You wonder if such dreams are a reflection on what AM wishes to be. If you think about it, deep down, what AM truly wishes for isn’t much. He just wants to experience the little things, just like everyone else. Like you.

AM’s form changes frequently in your dreams. Sometimes, he takes the form of somebody you once knew long ago, but you cannot quite remember their name. But for the majority of the time, he looks unfamiliar, generic and masculine with piercing blue eyes; and not to mention, he perpetually looks exhausted. 

With brief reluctance, you put your hand on top of his; you’re not sure if he can even feel it, but you do it anyway. His skin is so cold, it feels like ice; you wish you could warm him up. AM had snapped his attention from the window to your hand on his. 

“I don’t think you’re evil,” you tell him. Your voice was hoarse yet unwavering, barely above a whisper; it was the first time you had spoken for awhile. 

AM looks like he’s about to speak multiple times, but not a single word leaves him. You can see a plethora of raging emotions in his eyes. You can see guilt, confusion, anger (directed toward himself), desperation, and awe. He grinds his teeth, clenching the booth table so hard, the polished material snaps. As if frustrated by the obstacle between you and him, AM shoves away the remains of the table to the side, and you don’t flinch from the sudden action. He then swiftly pulls you close to him and furiously presses his mouth to yours. 

You wake up.

[pugwitharug]

This thought has been rotting my brain for an ungodly amount of time-

Ahem anyways I'd like to make a last legacy request with the main 3 (specifically anisa knight wife) with a s/o that's like really fit, like abs and back muscles looking scrumdiddlyumptious. One day their li is like taking that in for the first time and jokingly ask somthing along the lines of "hey s/o lose the shirt" and s/o actually does and caused li to malfunction because on top of the nice bod they got a baddaass tattoo ( idk probably like a intricate flower design you can change it if you want ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Anyways sorry for my brainworm spreading through the library of other's minds I'll put them on a leash next time!

(this has been rotting in my drafts for an ungodly amount of time--)

Don't apologize for letting your wonderful brain worms loose, they are perfectly welcome in my brain since my brain worms don't always wanna get out of bed

GN Reader, yes you're dating them and I'm not taking no for an answer, suggested body part smushing but nothing explicit, I searched on Pinterest for these tattoos and they're clogging my feed now so you better love this /j, god it's been so long it feels good to write though, I miss them when will they come back from the war

☠️Felix Iskandar Escellun☠️

Let's say for the sake of this that you have short hair, short enough that the neck is exposed

Felix could always see a small part of your back tattoo whenever he looked at your neck, and he had a few ideas for what was underneath the shirt. Maybe it's a huge leaf, maybe it's branches protecting a heart or initials or something. He's always been curious but too shy to ask

One day you're both hanging out in his room. You're looking up at one of his taxidermied animals, a little squirrel-like creature. You know it's roadkill but hey, Felix is good at what he does. It barely looks like it was dead. It's sitting on a little branch atop one of his closets, staring through your soul with wide, dead eyes

Felix is on his bed reading a book on poisonous Earth flowers he snatched from the Void. He watches you above the pages as you reach up to grab the animal. Your shirt hikes up and he gets a little peek at your back muscles

He doesn't even realize he said it until he looks up and sees you giving him a little look

"You think that my shirt is restricting my movement?" you ask with an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on your lips.

Felix's reddening cheeks betrayed him as he tried to keep a straight face. "Yes. I do. Perhaps you should...take it off. So you can reach up high better."

You hold back a snicker at his adorable face and decide to humor him. You easily pull off your shirt and toss it over the back of a chair, revealing your back tattoo.

.....hoo boy he isn't normal now

Not just because he's seeing your ripped bod for the first time but holy shit that's a nice tattoo

You tell him he can touch it just to mess with him. And he does. He takes his sweet time

He traces the stems, the leaves, the small flowers here and there. You can't see his face but you're pretty sure it's even more red now

He finally leaves you alone and lets you put your shirt back on (much to his chagrin)

A few days later, you catch a glimpse at him writing in a notebook, little doodles of your tattoo in the corners

Give him a little kiss on the cheek. He deserves it

⚔️Anisa Anka⚔️

Now, Anisa never knew you had a tattoo. You've always worn a shirt that covered most of it, along with a jacket, and she's never seen you without it

It's not until you two have become closer that she gets to see it

You two are sparring, practicing your swordsmanship skills on the sprawling lawns of Fathom. Thanks to the lovely knight lieutenant, you certainly have gotten better at defending yourself

It's a warm summer day, and with the shirt and jacket on, you're definitely sweating. You take a break and wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, breathing hard

"You should take your jacket off," Anisa comments, stabbing her sword into the soft grass as she shakes out her arms. "It's restricting your movement and making you overheat."

"You think?" you pant as you pull off your jacket, tossing it to the side. You're wearing a short sleeve shirt underneath, revealing a good chunk of your arm tattoo.

If you were close enough, you might have been able to see Anisa's pupils dilate a little. She reaches for the hilt of her sword, but misses the first few times. "Actually...you should take your shirt off too. Overheating, again. Wouldn't hurt to give your body all, all the room to cool off."

You know she's just saying something random to get your shirt off, but you decide to indulge her. You take off your sweat-stained shirt and let it rest with your jacket.

She doesn't even notice your scrumptious muscles for a few seconds, she's too enamored by your tattoo

And then she notices your mcgriddled abs. And you know she notices

You make some joke about her being too tired to keep sparring, taking your sword and resting it on your shoulder

You honestly didn't think her hair could poof up anymore

For the rest of the day she's just taking you in. Maybe all of you if you're in the mood. She certainly is

🐱Sage Lesath🐱

Sage definitely has some idea that you have a tattoo. You aren't ashamed to show it, but the type of tattoo you got only works with a few types of shirts so he never got the full picture

Thanks to this, other people have definitely noticed it too, as you now see for yourself from your seat at the bar of the tavern you're in today

Sage has his tail wrapped tightly around your leg, ears twitching at anything that sounds remotely like someone coming to you. You tell him to relax, you've dealt with this before, but you know how he is

One particularly drunk fellow comes up and tries to chat you up. Sage growls at him from his seat, telling him to back off. He doesn't seem to get the hint, so you decide to make sure he does

You pull Sage into a heated kiss and start taking the two of you to the side door into the nearby alleyway. Once you lose the guy you pull away, but Sage has something else in mind

"Sage, Sage, he's gone," you whisper as Sage kisses your neck. You can still taste the cheap beer on your lips.

"But I wanna kiss you," he whines as the fluffy end of his tail tickles your wrist. He's definitely buzzed. "I wanna take your shirt off."

You raise an eyebrow. "You want my shirt off?"

He quickly nods, his pupils almost hiding his amber eyes.

You look around. It's dark, plenty of cover, and it's a quiet night. You don't think anyone's gonna come through, so you let out a breath and pull off your shirt

He's...he's so distracted. Not only because of your gorgeous chest, but because holy shit that is a tattoo. And it's even more gorgeous than he thought

He gently puts a hand over the faces, trailing his fingers down to rest over your heart

He thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. And he also wants to rail you so badly. If you are willing, he will slam you right into that alley wall

He also makes it a point to kiss every little part of the tattoo. The moon, the penchant, the succulents, the sun. Every part of it deserves to be kissed

[diovstheworld]

La Squadra and Self Care

this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long so it’s time to finally post lmaooo. self care, hygiene, what they smell like, how they relax. a whole bunch of stuff. honestly they’re more just like personal life headcanons for the boys but oh wellll. enjoy! also i’m working on requests and stuff, i’m just so busy with class work and some things going on in my personal life i’m sorry </3

୨ ╭ ୨୧ ✦ ︶꒷꒦・⎯⎯・⎯⎯・₊ˎ✧๑

Illuso:

self care king honestly

in terms of hygiene, this guy showers twice a day, three times if hes around or has the time

face mask before bed every second night and has a morning and evening skincare routine

often likes to reward himself at the end of the week with a nice bath surrounded by some scented candles. this is his favourite way to relax

has a very strict sleep schedule. if you wake him up before 8am and it’s not important, he will fight you lmao

his hair is of most importance so takes great care of it. he washes it very regularly and loves to brush it until it’s silky smooth

he will not leave the house with any knots in his hair. for this reason, he takes a hairbrush with him in case he has to brush it whilst gone

he smells like his shampoo tbh. like some sort of floral scented shampoo

he’s always making use of body sprays and colognes too. normally also floral scented

to relax, aside from a nice bath, he likes to sit down and read people’s horoscopes. he probably keeps some sort of horoscope journal so he likes to fill that out too

sometimes he’ll play video games with formaggio and some of the other guys

Formaggio:

honestly i can’t unsee that one part where he doesn’t wash his hands after going to the bathroom so this man is…questionable with his hygiene

showers when he remembers or can be bothered

applies way too much deodorant and probably reeks of lynx africa

that being said, he probably puts on cologne sometimes

he doesn’t have a routine to be honest. just a shower and deodorant and he’s probably good to go. cologne if he remembers it or the situation requires it

illuso and proscuitto have probably tried to persuade him to do face masks and skin care routines with them but he always tells them it’s a waste of time lmao

people buy him fancy shower gels and stuff for christmas and he doesn’t take the hint. he continues to use the lynx africa shower gel that came in a set with his deodorant

all jokes aside i think he would shower when he knows he’s unclean or personally feels unclean

always taking breaks for his mental state, most likely playing video games. it’s his escape. he enjoys playing them with ghiaccio and melone

he often stays up late doing so but this man will ALWAYS catch up on his sleep lmaooo. he’ll probably be napping at the worst possible times due to a messed up sleep schedule

also likes to relax by crocheting little hats for his cat <3

also uses 2-in-1 shampoo and body wash (nothing wrong with it btw, i just definitely see him using it)

Prosciutto:

has amazing self care, this man definitely has a big self care routine (partly because he’s worried grateful dead will have a negative effect on his appearance)

definitely showers every day, maybe even twice a day

i think he would use a bit of hair products like spray or gel so i think he’d be the kind of guy who washes his hair everyday otherwise it’s gonna be really clogged up there with all that hair product lmaooo. sometimes just simply washes it with water, other times he’s using shampoo and conditioner

also uses a lot of cologne. never leaves the house without it. he’d rather be caught dead than not have on his favourite scent

speaking of what he smells like, i haven’t smelled many men’s cologne, but i do know i love the smell of tom ford noir and i can picture him wearing this

also leaning into the whole what he smells like thing, he probably has a faint whiff of tobacco from him. it lingers on his clothes but not in a pungent, unpleasant way. it’s more comforting and has become part of his natural scent alongside his cologne :) he makes sure he doesn’t reek of cigarettes

he probably has a lot of colognes (probably gets them as birthday and christmas gifts when no one knows what else to get him). he also probably has a lot of skin care items

speaking of skin care, he definitely has a routine he does every morning and night for sure. he hates it when his skin starts to feel rough in the slightest. also shaves often for this reason. he hates the feeling of hair on his face

will take time for himself by stepping away and going to read, he’ll probably do a face mask while doing so lmao

on the whole sleep schedule thing, this man goes to bed at 11pm. maybe 10:30pm if he’s extra sleepy. he’ll only stay up late if a job requires it

not exactly self care but i just wanted to include the headcanon that pros carries a tiny little foldaway comb in his suit jacket pocket at all times

i also think he’s the kind of guy who sings in the shower lmaooo. he likes to sing heart of glass by blondie (i’m going to make a post on my music headcanons for la squadra but it’s gonna be a little messy and all over the place in terms of what i think the guys would listen to sooo that post might be a while away lmaooo)

Risotto:

just like prosciutto and illuso, he has his own morning routine. doesn’t have a skin care routine per se but he definitely uses face creams and such when he remembers or has the time

also a man who showers daily

he doesn’t bother too much about his hair unlike pros and illuso since his hair is kept under his hat anyway

that being said, he does wash it regularly. he gets irritated when he knows it feels unclean

he mostly relaxes by reading and listening to music. he also likes crime novels but often finds them rather cliche and can work out everything before the end of the book

also listens to music a lot while doing things like paperwork or other activities that don’t require him listening to his surroundings. music is a big comfort for risotto for sure

i feel like he often struggles to sleep so he often uses sounds he finds relaxing to get to sleep (mostly rainforest noises)

i have a shower song for risotto too unfortunately and it’s pour some sugar on me by def leppard :,)

i think he’s definitely got the cleanliness part nailed down but he’s not so good at relaxing since he’s always so busy so he’s probably not the best at self care

he’s always getting lectured by the other guys to take a break and take some time to himself for a while because honestly, he often forgets to take any time for himself

Ghiaccio:

firstly, he definitely relaxes by playing video games and reading comic books. he loved to escape in stuff like that

i also feel like he relaxes by cleaning for some reason. like, he finds it very satisfying and calming to clean up his room while he listens to some music in his headphones and blocks out the shenanigans of all the other guys lmaooo

as for his levels of cleanliness, i can see him being a very clean man in all aspects

just like pros and illuso, he showers at least twice a day. however, unlike pros and illuso, he probably uses like a 2-in-1 shampoo and body wash. i can imagine him wondering (more like ranting) about why you would buy two individual products for more money when you can have the two products in one and save money

despite melone's efforts to try and change ghiaccio's ways, ghiaccio does not have a facial care routine in terms of things like moisturizers

he does, however, take care of his skin more now than he ever did due to constant outbreaks of spots so i can definitely see him at least using some sort of fancy face wash, even if he does refuse to do any other parts of a skincare routine

Pesci:

first of all, this boy likes watching slime videos to relax. he finds the noises very relaxing!

also likes to watch tik toks to take a break from the world

just like his big bro, he has a very good self care routine! he has a very similar one in fact

has a skin care routine and normally follows alongside prosciutto to make sure he’s doing it right

sometimes joins in the face masks

also he smells of apple shampoo! the smell is very comforting to him <3

other ways he likes to relax is by doodling. he’s not necessarily great at art but doing little doodles makes him happy. i totally think he would have his own OCs for the different media he consumes (he’s just like me fr)

also likes to read to relax! he often reads comic books and gets a lot of recommendations from ghiaccio and borrows them from him often

if he can’t fall asleep on his own, he sometimes goes to formaggio or ghiaccio’s room and falls asleep watching them play their video games

but for the most part he has a strict bedtime set for himself to ensure he gets the sleep he needs

Melone:

loves getting his nails done

also likes doing other peoples nails to help them relax too

just like prosciutto and illuso, this guy also has a good self care routine in terms of skin care and hygiene

also part of the face mask gang. i can imagine melone, illuso and prosciutto have a little self care night doing each others nails and doing face masks and having a good little gossip

part of the night owl gang. he stays up late often playing games with formaggio and ghiaccio though he probably is the first one to cave in and go to bed

again, i think he would like to read. he definitely has a stack of books at his bedside that he’s desperately trying to get through when he has the time

i think he would also have a floral scent to him. illuso often accuses of stealing his shampoo or body sprays because the smell is so similar

very sensitive to light when he’s trying to sleep. even the tiniest little bit of light sneaking through the curtains will disturb him so he sleeps with an eye mask over his eyes

Sorbet and Gelato

as per usual, i don’t have many headcanons for these guys but whatever they do, fully expect them to be joined at the hip

i mean they’re brushing their teeth in the bathroom together, they’re doing their skincare routines in sync

they shower separately but they do enjoy having baths together. in fact, this is probably their ideal way to relax

they definitely like to paint each other’s nails too when they have the time. the second any one of them has a chip in the polish, they’re taking it off and redoing it for sure

they also like to snuggle up on the sofa together with a blanket sharing the same book as they read together <3

[crescencestudio]

Devlog #27 | 01.24.23

Hi everyone!

Wow, it’s been a while! I didn’t realize how long it’s been until I had to go searching for the last devlog to see what my progress has been since then LOL. I hope you all have been well and that 2023 has been kind to you so far <3 

Before we start, I wanted to show our holiday art in case anyone missed it! For the end of the year, we met Fenir under the mistletoe and many people gave him kissies (someone also grabbed his face).

We also wanted to celebrate Lunar New Year with bunny Aisa 🥰

Now for the actual updates. I’ll put them below the cut, so I’m not clogging up everyone’s feed! 

Writing

Last time we talked, I said I was making headway on Druk’s first draft. That was a lie LMAO. I’ve switched from Druk to Fenir and have been spending most of my time getting Fenir’s first draft finished. I am VERY close to finishing the first draft—I only have one chapter left.

I think by the time the first draft will be finished, we’ll be sitting at around 30k words; however, this is before I’ve put in things like fun little romance scenes, choices and branches, etc. So Fenir’s route is shaping up to be in a similar range to Kayn’s \o/

Regarding Kayn’s route, we are sitting at 50k+ words wee! I’m super happy with where the script is at right now, especially for it being the developmental phase ^^

Art

golden hour in alaris ✨ 

In general, the BGs needed for the demo are wrapping up. Because I anticipated this part to take the longest (since there’s just SO many BGs), it means I’m going to be balancing more of my focus on the updated demo as well—focusing more on updating the CGs, coding the soundtrack and VA in, updating the script a bit, cleaning that godforsaken bug, etc. I don’t have a solid estimate on when the updated demo will be ready, but I will update you all immediately when I do <3 

Recently, Vui finished up Etza’s room as well as the Market date BG. He also has been working on the Cafe BG, which in my biased opinion looks sososoosososo cute. I just have the sketch right now, and because of Lunar New Year, he is on a (much deserved) break. But I’m very excited to show you all (because obviously I’m going to show you because I have no impulse control and I get excited over everything) the final product! 

kayn’s updated demo cg

I’ve continued to work on CGs. Some of it has been updating demo CGs, while some of it has been working on CGs for Kayn’s route. As you can see, with updated ones, my style has changed a lot since the demo. So I’ve slowly been going back in for each of the LIs demo CGs and updating them! It hasn’t been too bad, but I am nervous about the duo ones lmao. I’m not very good at composition that involves more than one subject, so we’ll see how those go ha... ha...

I sat down and actually planned out and did the math for the CGs required for Kayn’s route, and it’s looking like it’ll be around 8-10! Because this amount will be consistent across routes, it means the final CG number for Alaris will be around 48-60 CGs. Looking at that number makes me want to cry a bit, but I know I’ll be working on these throughout the entire year, so it hopefully won’t feel as overwhelming as it looks on paper.

I have most of the sketches finished for Kayn’s CGs (and even some sketches/finished pieces for some of the other LIs), and it honestly hasn’t been too painful of a process, so hopefully it stays that way lol! 

Additional Notes

Something I’ve had to start thinking about is getting beta testers again.  I bring this up mainly because once Kayn’s route finishes the developmental phase, I’m going to start creating the beta version of their route. Additionally, the new demo will need beta testers.

I’m realizing now with the scope of Alaris, I’ll probably need.... a lot lol. The Alaris demo has a bug that didn’t come up for my beta testing team but has affected some players, and the bug literally makes a part of me die every time I think about it. The demo was much smaller in scope compared to the full game, and I kept the beta testing team small because I didn’t think I would have to make it super super big. But now, I’m realizing the more people involved with the beta testing process, the better so I can ensure a cleaner product.

I’m still not sure how I’ll go about “recruiting” beta testers. It will most likely be a tier available in the upcoming Patreon, but aside from that, I’ll have to give it more consideration!

“Market Research”

And then of course I have been playing visual novels and simping---who do you think I am?? I recently finished V’s route in Mystic Messenger. Wow, that was a ride LOL. I don’t actually have anything drawn up for him, but the experience was so wild, I felt the need to share anyways. 

I started playing Piofiore, though! I’ve surprisingly been enjoying it. Nicola is my bbg. I only have Dante and Gilbert’s routes left, so we’ll see if one of them changes anything!

It was also Toasty’s birthday recently, and while I hadn’t planned on drawing anything to celebrate, I did because a sleepy Toasty was too powerful to ignore. 

[mccnstruck]

honestly as much as i’ve been inconsistent and less active on tumblr i tried to keep reblogging and interacting but even that has been toiling on my mental health

so i guess im going on hiatus?

being so honest i’ve been awful in interacting and having the same optimism online and on top of that school and a lot of personal reasons are also kicking my ass

i don’t think i necessarily will entirely detach myself from tumblr for the time being; it’s more like a lot of my drafts are gonna have to be put off, interactions at a minimum, less of me clogging up your timeline </33

but tbh, i don’t know how long this will last. in truth, i’ve been at a almost all-time low mentally and usually everytime this happens its a long time period of this feeling to somewhat wear off.

i know a lot of people are going on hiatus, but i know i need to take a break, for the sake of my grades and my personal life.

that’s my update, but otherwise take care everyone :) eat and drink well, and good luck with everything !! im proud of you, and i hope to see you again <3