#waiver wire

[fantasycouch]

Waiver Wire Adds Week 13 Fantasy Football (2023)

[stereax]

🥳🥳🥳

[grantmentis]

I know we basically know what the final rosters look like based on the waiver wire but I neeeeeed the pwhl to post those official rosters because I’m scared a giant anvil is gonna fall on my faves anyway

[notacowfest]

hi everyone! in light of AO3's planned downtime when fics were set to go live on july 1, fics will now go live whenever the downtime ends on july 1. also in light of this, please feel free to get your fics in at any point between now & july 1 in order to have them be part of the collection whenever fics do go live!

in other news — following some conversations had with people who signed up & want to participate in the fest, the collection will not be closing for new contributions after authors go live. plenty of people (myself included!) have claims that they won't be able to fulfill before july 1 but that they/we would still like to get to. leaving the collection open allows everyone to have a place to eventually put those finished fics; it also means that more prompts might have fics written for them! a win-win!!

any fics submitted to the collection before july 1 (fics go live) or july 5 (author reveals) will be part of the Big Fic Drops, but i will continue to periodically check the collection for any new fics to be added to the collection. for right now, the plan is to leave the collection open until next year when there's a new prompting period for NAC 2025.

speaking of prompting, prompting will not be opening back up. the collection is simply staying open for new fic submissions. if you do have a new prompt you want to put out in the ether, however ...... might i suggest checking out .......... the waiver wire?

anyway, thanks so much for bearing with this update post! i hope everyone's excited for fics going live!!

[girl-lostconnection]

✨Concept ✨1 part

Thinking about Helldiver!Reader again.

They way they would absolutely love Soap and his sharp mind and his out of box thinking and his resourcefulness.

As a Helldiver in the field you often don’t have resources — too little time, ship leaves the orbit and leaves you with no supplies, no reinforcements, no protection.

Just you, ammo you have left in your mag and whatever you can scavenge around the barren terrain quick enough to scramble something together.

And Soap that chats you up about the bombs and explosives, elated to have such attentive listener, shares the ways to demolish something the quickest way possible, talks you through the process and wires and “nah, it’s alright, C4 is fairly harmless, see? Can make lil’le snake out of it”.

You never say why you are so interested in it, you never share that oftentimes there are no more ammunition to shoot the enemy, that grenades are all you have.

Soap grins, offering to give you a hand with what you work with on daily basis and you let him in the armoury — showing what you already bought, showing what you are currently using.

You get a little carried away, so proud of collection you already established — it’s not much but it costed you almost half a year of everyday deployments and you feel like it’s somehow satisfactory.

Not like anyone really checks what Helldivers work with anyway so you are in the clear.

But there is a strange look in Soap’s face and your voice waivers, jaws snapping shut, awful uncomfortable heat climbing up your face when he asks if it’s really everything you have.

Was it…was it not enough? Are you supposed to have more? How much more is needed? Do SAS have more? Shit, it must cost them good chunk of their salaries.

Thoughts swarm your head, visor of your helmet clicking back in place, hiding your eyes and maybe there was something in them. Just a glimpse. Just before you slammed your walls back up.

Because Soap’s voice softens when he hums “no biggie, let’s see what we can do, aye? These ones are actually real blast—” and you have the petty desire to push him out of your armoury. Off your ship. Away from you.

You don’t need his pity. You don’t- you don’t know what the fuck SAS works with but you got your supplies yourself and you worked so hard to get them.

But your fingers just clench and unclench, creak of leather gloves louder than you would’ve wanted because Soap looks at you like he wants to smack himself, because it feels as if you almost shrink on yourself.

But you don’t say anything because…it’s really not his fault. It’s just the way it is, right? You are sure SAS have their fair share of issues with supplies, after all, command said that it’s better Helldivers cover the costs themselves.

Surely situation must be real bad if they can’t provide you with decent armoury. But it’s not in issue — you work hard, you buy your supplies yourself, you slowly upgrade yourself, it’s fine really.

So you just write down all of his recommendations and fist bump him on your way out. What’s a little sting to the pride if you got the information and advice of actual demolitions expert?

You don’t notice the way Soap looks over your armoury again, muscle in his jaw twitching. He can see the patience and care it took to build up a somehow decent armoury, he can see that you scramble to get whatever you can as soon as you get any funds.

But he can also see that it’s barely enough to cover what you two talked about. He can see that no one gave you a proper training, no one gave any manuals and no one provided you with actual fucking supplies.

Soap doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s unheard of for soldiers, especially someone of you rank, to cover their bloody supplies costs themselves.

Soap doesn’t know how to tell you that the shine of Helldiver branch becomes more and more nefarious the more he hears and sees.

Soap doesn’t know how to tell it so he goes back to his team. Maybe someone else will know what to do.

[fantasycouch]

Waiver Wire Adds Week 17 Fantasy Football (2023)

[stereax]

[halfmoon-horse]

This guy is an expert on submarine design, and there are a lot of engineers in the comments. Consensus is that they're most likely already dead, as the submersible was not designed with contingency in mind.

Possible shearing forces on the adhesive holding the carbon fibre tube and metal domes together

Advertised 96 hours of air, but it's not stipulated whether that's for 1 person or 5

Controlled by a third party wireless game controller, unknown if back-up wired steering system is in place or spare batteries for the controller are brought along

No way of removing smoke or toxic gases in the event of a fire, and no reported oxygen masks with positive pressure

No way to open from the inside even if they surface - reminiscent of the Apollo 1 tragedy where all three astronauts died in a fire on the launch pad because they couldn't escape the capsule

And so much more. It's a deathtrap. I'm hoping that considering the negligence of construction and lack of quality assurance and testing their little waiver will be struck down and they're sued out of existence. It's not about this one company being stopped, it's about preventing similar companies in space and ocean exploration making the same mistakes. Even NASA gets things wrong - Apollo 1, Challenger, Colombia - so these private businesses must be held to the same or better standards when there is a risk to life, just as the aviation industry is.

Regulations are written in blood.

[mariacallous]

One of President Donald Trump’s first actions after taking office last month was to sign an executive order freezing foreign aid, much of which flows through the United States Agency for International Development (USAID), an independent agency that represents less than 1 percent of the overall federal budget. The administration later said that “lifesaving” work was exempt and could continue. But USAID employees and officials from nonprofit organizations say they are still being blocked from doing vital work on ending the global HIV/AIDS epidemic.

The consequences may be dire: “At a minimum, 300 babies that wouldn’t have had HIV, now do,” one current USAID worker estimates.

WIRED interviewed eight current and former USAID employees and contractors for this story, several of whom directly work on the agency’s HIV and AIDS programs. They were granted anonymity due to fears of retaliation and because they were not authorized to speak publicly about the agency. USAID did not respond to requests for comment.

Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) Service has plowed through several government agencies since President Donald Trump took office last month, proposing sweeping changes to federal infrastructure. But no agency has been gutted as thoroughly as USAID. A cadre of young DOGE agents have been stationed in USAID’s headquarters since last week; after reportedly wresting control of USAID’s secure systems and placing key personnel on administrative leave, the DOGE team began cutting off staff email accounts on a rolling, seemingly random basis, with no guidance or explanation, employees claim. “It’s been absolutely hellish,” says a current USAID employee who lost access to their email on Monday morning.

“We spent the weekend feeding USAID into the wood chipper,” Musk said on social media Sunday. “Could [sic] gone to some great parties. Did that instead.”

One popular program implemented by USAID, however, has already been granted an “emergency humanitarian waiver” to keep operating: the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, or PEPFAR.

The global health program, which was founded by former US president George W. Bush and is overseen by the State Department, has saved an estimated 26 million lives since its launch in 2003. It’s implemented by a handful of government agencies, including USAID. While in theory the Trump administration’s waiver allows the program to resume some of its activities while the foreign aid freeze is still in effect, in reality, sources tell WIRED that much of its lifesaving work remains paused.

"Your money is being unfrozen but you can’t contact the people who actually froze it," a senior official at an HIV/AIDS organization told WIRED. "There’s a bigger communication blockage that is frustrating even the efforts put in place to free up the lifesaving work."

Large numbers of USAID employees have been placed on administrative leave or locked out of their emails and work servers in recent days, including those working on a variety of what they say are critical public health missions. USAID staffers say this demonstrates that the emergency waiver application process is ineffective and isn’t ensuring that aid workers can continue serving vulnerable populations.

USAID staff who still have access to their email accounts received a notice on Monday evening from Ken Jackson, the agency’s assistant to the administrator for management and resources, saying that the agency “would likely undergo a reorganization” and be integrated into the State Department. “As we evaluate USAID and ensure it is in alignment with an America First agenda, the President Trump Administration, and the efforts of the State Department, we will focus on ensuring every agency dollar is delivering targeted and results-driven aid,” the email read.

In countries like Zambia, Nigeria, Haiti, and Mozambique, medical equipment ranging from antiretroviral drugs for treating HIV to pre-exposure prophylaxis and condoms that can prevent transmission of the disease are currently sitting in limbo, according to the same USAID worker who warned of a drastic uptick in the number of children living with HIV. The aid is unable to reach its destinations because the USAID workers tasked with logistics have been placed on administrative leave.

“When a baby is born, you do an early infant diagnostic test, and if it comes back positive, you can blitz them with retrovirals, but you can’t do that if you don’t have retrovirals,” the same USAID worker says. “It’s an absolute disaster.”

In Haiti, an aid worker confirmed that HIV/AIDS medication from USAID remains inaccessible. “We cannot touch the medication,” they say. “Everything is on hold.” The worker added that nobody from USAID had answered their phone calls for days.

“The Trump administration is playing with tens of millions of people's lives, and Haiti is just one consequential example of that in our hemisphere,” says Asia Russell, the executive director of the international HIV advocacy group Health GAP.

While PEPFAR is the most well-known HIV/AIDS program implemented by USAID, the agency has a number of additional projects devoted to the issue. One current USAID worker whose research focuses on prophylactic devices primarily for women in sub-Saharan Africa says that their work has been interrupted, too. They say members of their team were abruptly cut off from their work emails this afternoon. “We hadn’t yet applied for a humanitarian waiver,” they say. “We don’t even have a way of contacting IT.”

Democratic lawmakers and dozens of USAID employees protested in front of the Ronald Reagan Building in Washington, DC, on Monday after they were denied access to USAID’s offices. “This illegal, unconstitutional interference with congressional power is threatening lives all over the world,” said Maryland representative Jamie Raskin.

A current USAID employee shared an email with WIRED they received from the agency on Monday night, informing them that USAID buildings in Washington will remain closed tomorrow. “We will continue to provide further updates as they become available,” the email reads. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

[stereax]

Pretty sure Ren's got everything right here! You'll see a few AHL moves going forward, like the NJD-MTL Legare-Durandeau deal, but these players are only expected to play in the AHL. NHL teams' rosters are essentially locked from here on out.

Question for you if you dont mind. If a team claims a player off waivers after the trade deadline, can that player play in the playoffs?

I don't mind and this is a hilarious scenario to talk about but it's accurate and it's saddening. Because if you get waived and you get claimed you are ineligible to play for the remainder of the season. And in order to be eligible to play in the AHL you had to be on the AHL roster before the trade deadline.

Meaning if a player gets waived and claimed they cannot even play in the AHL unless otherwise noted in a previous paper transaction.

So I'm going to do a quick breakdown of all of the post trade deadline rules for anyone & everyone who's not aware of them and or are new to hockey or the NHL

Teams can still waive and claim players however claimed players are ineligible to play for the remainder of the (NHL) season. We may see some later in the season for teams whose AHL teams are making the playoffs.

The trade deadline is not actually a hard cap on trades for the season. We will still be seeing people getting moved for future considerations, or for their AHL teams as the AHL trade deadline is exactly a week after the NHL

Players can still be signed. However players that are signed after the trade deadline that we're not already on the reserve list are ineligible to play in the playoffs. You'll probably see this most often with college signees or AHL boys that get NHL contracts and play the remainder of the season but are still ineligible for the playoffs

For a player to be sent down to the minors after the trade deadline they must have been on the AHL teams roster prior to the trade deadline. Players who are waivers exempt are still subject to this rule and as such that is why we saw a bunch of people sent down right before the trade deadline that way their players can get sent down for possible playoff runs. The only exception to this is players that need to go on conditioning loan Post injury (Long Term/LTIR) to make sure they're good to play in the NHL

The major rule post TDL is that teams only have four recalls (non-emergency) for the rest of the season. So paper transactions that during the beginning of the season would be often. Emergency recalls are limited to a team that has less than twelve (12) healthy forwards, six (6) healthy defense men, or their two (2) healthy goalies. Teams must be able to fill their roster in order to play they're required to have eighteen (18) skaters and two (2) goalies, and requires the cap space to be able to call these players up. When players become healthy again and are roster eligible they must then send the recalls back down or they are changed into a paper transaction and takes one of their four slots.

I'm tagging these people for opinions, corrections and exposure: @stereax @hard4softthings @robindrake13

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

When Are You Gonna Come Down

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Aftercare; implied rough sex, but no sex is shown; implied lack of previous aftercare; nonsexual nudity; fluff; not beta-read

Summary: "Let's get you cleaned up," He urges against your skin. "C'mon."

You hesitate before you nod, scooching toward the edge of the bed. Bradley gets up with you, taking hold of your hand and guiding you down the hall. You follow, blinking a little blearily.

You're usually in your car by now. You're usually pulling over to take a deep breath, to calm yourself down, to settle.

"Slow down."

"I'm fine."

"Just hang on—"

You don't heed his order, already sitting up—and nearly falling back as your head spins. Your gut swoops with panic as you brace your hands on the bed, sucking in a nervous breath.

"Holy crap," You mumble.

"I told you." He's chuckling, but it isn't a mean sound. Bradley scoots closer to you, gathering you back against his chest and easing you to lay down. You sag back against him, head still throbbing as stars crowd your eyes.

"You always in such a hurry afterward?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," You grumble.

"I would, for next time. May tie you down, head it off at the pass."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'm in the Navy, sweatpea. I can tie a mean knot."

You can't help but smile a little as he gently smooths beads of sweat back from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You alright?" He asks. "You want something to eat or drink?"

"I should go."

"Wait a little bit." His hand slides down, smoothing down the slope of your shoulder. "Just...Come down properly, huh? I'm not gonna send you out all wired."

"I'm used to it."

It falls out of your mouth, and it's chased by harrowing silence. His fingers never waiver in their tender stroking of your skin.

"You shouldn't be," He finally murmurs. "You shouldn't split so fast."

"It's normal."

"It's not right."

"I can handle it."

"...I don't mean to be rude," He hedges, "But you just tried to get off of my bed and nearly dropped back down immediately."

"I'm just a little lightheaded."

"I know. I was rough."

"I wasn't complaining."

"I know." He leans into it. You can't see his eye roll, but you can hear it. You open your mouth to argue again, but he lowers his head, dotting your neck with tender kisses. You let your eyes slide closed, feeling yourself become putty in his arms. He carefully props the two of you up after a few minutes. You draw in a nervous breath, waiting for your head to spin, for the room to tip sideways…But it never comes.

"Feelin' alright?" He murmurs.

"Mhm."

"Let's get you cleaned up," He urges against your skin. "C'mon."

You hesitate before you nod, scooching toward the edge of the bed again. Bradley gets up with you, taking hold of your hand and guiding you down the hall. You follow, blinking a little blearily.

You're usually in your car by now. You're usually pulling over to take a deep breath, to calm yourself down, to settle. You follow Bradley into the bathroom, leaning against the counter as he starts the shower up. He glances at you now and again, seeming to want to check on you before he draws you takes you by the hand, leading you into the stall. You sigh at the feeling of the warm spray, tipping your head under the stream and feeling yourself relax further. Bradley curls up behind you, dropping kisses to your shoulders before he takes hold of the soap. It's a moment before you feel him smoothing your hands over your back. You brace your slightly-shaking arms against the tiled walls, relaxing as Bradley cleans your body reverently.

You reach for the soap, determined to do the same, but—

"Nn-nn," He hums, smoothing his hands along your arms until he's intertwining your fingers. "This is about you."

It makes you shiver. The brush of his lips, and his steady, sweat insistence.

"You took me so well, you know that?" He murmurs against the shell of your ear. "So fucking sweet, baby. You felt so fucking good."

The praise melts over you like warm butter. You whimper softly, fingers against his.

"Took care of me, just like I needed," He adds, giving your hands a squeeze. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."

--

You think that it'll end at the shower—that Bradley will shove some clothes at you and nudge you out to your car with a kiss. But there you are, sitting at the counter, wearing your underwear and one of his old t-shirts, and chowing down on the best damn grilled cheese you've ever had. Before you can completely finish the first one, Bradley's tipping another one onto your plate. You glance up guiltily, but he just smiles, turning back to the stove.

"You can have it," You offer.

"Nu-uh," He waves you off. "That's yours. I'll make another one."

"...You don't have to be this nice, you know."

"This isn't a have to, this is a want to. Although," He glances at you over his shoulder, "If you're that used to taking it and no one taking care of you afterward, that's not okay."

"I don't do it a lot," You shrug, "But when I do, it's just, like...I don't know. It's quick. I don't think about it."

"That why you're so used to running?"

"I guess."

Bradley glances back toward you, and you hurriedly look down, taking up the grilled cheese and stuffing a bite into your mouth.

"Does running feel good?"

"...Not really," You mumble around the food.

"Then don't run next time."

"I didn't run this time."

"You tried to."

He's got you there. You raise your thumb, sucking a few crumbs and melted butter off before you glance at Bradley again. You find him watching you with gentle curiosity.

"...I'll let up once you finish that," He nods to the grilled cheese and the glass of water beside your plate. You consider, looking down at the plate and poking a few crumbs.

"Is it okay if I sleep here?" You ask.

You don't dare meet his eye. You hear turn the stove off, and the sound is chased by the steady padding of his feet. You feel the heat of him at your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him place a hand against the counter.

And then—he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. Your eyes slip shut, lips pulling with a smile as he murmurs,

"More than okay with it, sweetpea."

"You're a real romantic, Bradshaw. And you know what," You hold up the rest of the sandwich. "This grilled cheese isn't half-bad."

[bluestar22x]

Maze Find

Summary: When your dog runs into a corn maze, you run into Frankie Morales

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 900(ish)

Warnings: None, pure Hallmarky fluff

Author’s Note: This is my submission for jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge ( @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno ) - I picked Morales Mocha with corn maze mishap (more like meet cute).

xxx

"Biscuit, where are you?" you called out, eyes scanning your surroundings, trying not to panic.

There wasn't much to see beyond corn stalks, given you were in a corn maze, but you had to try.

Your new dog Biscuit, a rescue from the local animal shelter, had managed to wiggle his way out of, you could admit, his too loose collar to chase after a squirrel during your afternoon walk.

The last you'd seen of him, about three minutes ago, was his wire haired sandy colored body slipping into the corn field, which was unusually busy due to the time of year.

The owner was hosting a corn maze, open to anyone, for a small price. A price the farmer had waivered for you when you explained why you needed access to his field.

You hadn't seen the dog since his initial escape, and you were starting to worry that he was no longer even in the area. Hounds were well known for running off far.

You were nearing the end of the maze when you turned a corner and sagged with relief, finding Biscuit sitting in front of a tall man with a well trimmed beard and a Standard Heating Oil cap perched on top of his head. A nearly fully eaten ice cream cone was in his right hand, a paper shopping bag in the other.

"This wanderer yours?" he asked when he saw you appear, an amused expression on his face.

"Sorry, he got off the leash," you explained, "Saw a squirrel and it was too hard to resist."

He chuckled and you smiled at him as you approached and slipped Biscuit's collar back around his neck, tightening it in the process. You liked the sound of the stranger's laughter. It was warm, hearty. "Thanks for distracting him while I caught up."

"It was purely by accident," he told you, shrugging. "He was interested in what I'm eating."

You nodded. "Ice cream is a weakness of his."

The man's lips curved up. "Mine too."

"So what are you doing in the maze?" you inquired. "Got a lost dog of your own?"

He had to be either a farm hand or a parent, but you were curious. He was very easy on the eyes, and you were pretty sure you'd never seen him around before. The town wasn't so small that not knowing him was impossible, but still.

"No, just a lost kid," he said, "Except not actually lost. I can see from here where he's hiding." He glanced over your shoulder. "Nic come on out. It's time to head home."

A young boy, maybe four, shot out from between the stalks to your left. "Aww...already?"

"Yes, already," the man said in a tone you immediately recognized as fatherly stern. "Your mom will kill me if we're late."

You cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "She won't actually kill me, but Nic's mother is planning to take him to see a movie tonight and she doesn't like being late to anything."

"Ah, Nic's mother," you repeated. That didn't sound like they were still together. You shouldn't care, but you did. Because he was handsome, especially in the green plaid shirt he was wearing, and seemed nice.

"Yeah, we divorced three years ago. On good terms. But she likes her schedules."

"Can I pet your dog?" Nic interrupted.

You grinned at his politeness, most kids didn't ask, even though they should with strange dogs. "Of course, Biscuit would love it."

Nic kneeled down and started petting him under the chin and the dog flipped over to expose his belly, making everyone laugh.

"Looks like you've made a new friend," you declared, grinning.

"He's so silly," Nic said, "What kind of dog is he?"

"A Basset Fauve de Bretagne," you answered.

The young boy blinked at you, confused. "A Basset what?"

You chuckled. "It's a French breed. You know France?"

The boy nodded. "Mrs. Bran is teaching us how to read maps."

"Oh...interesting."

"It's...okay."

You laughed again at his honesty. "Well, I promise the country is more interesting than its map."

Nic's father gave him a few moments more to stroke Biscuit then repeated that they had to go.

The boy pouted but did as told, heading out for their car at the end of the maze.

"Thanks again..." you trailed and the man took the hint.

"Frankie. Most people call me Frankie."

"Thanks again, Frankie."

"I didn't do much, but I'm glad to have helped..."

You gave him your name and smiled again. "Help is help."

You rummaged through your purse after and pulled out a pen and notepad.

"Those still exist?" Frankie joked as you put ink to the lined yellow paper. His dark eyes were curious as you jotted down something on it - your phone number.

You weren't usually so bold, but if he wasn't interested he just wouldn't call right? No big deal. But you'd regret not making an attempt at a date. You'd been single for far too long.

You passed him the note. "I'd like to thank you over coffee or something. My treat. Just call me when you're not busy sometime?"

He smiled and folded the paper up nicely. "I think I'll take you up on that offer. Let me drop off Nic, his mother's house isn't far, then I'll call."

"Sounds good."

You shared warm smiles and parted with your boys.

As promised, Frankie called a few hours later.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[matsmi13]

Devoted to his club forever

I have always been a big fan of the Paris Saint Germain football club. So, when I won a contest for an exclusive behind-the-scenes tour of the Parc des Princes stadium, I was over the moon. A whole day to explore the secret nooks and crannies, meet the players, and maybe even get a first-hand look at the world of professional soccer.

The visit began in the classic way. I discover the dressing rooms, the press room, the benches where so many legends have sat. It's all fascinating, but it's at the end of the tour that things get really interesting.

“For the more passionate like you, we've prepared a never-before-seen immersive experience where you have the opportunity to “live in the skin of a player”. Would you like to try this experience ?” announced the guide with an enigmatic smile.

I accepted immediately, all excited. I thought it was a kind of virtual reality simulation, an interactive experience where I could feel what it's like to play for PSG.

I had no idea what was going on when I was taken to another part of the stadium, an area normally off-limits to the public.

Once inside an ultra-modern room, I was taken aback by the atmosphere. The room is filled with high-tech equipment, complex machinery, and scientists in white coats bustling around various devices.

“Before we start this experiment, we need you to sign a few waivers. It's standard procedure to make sure everything goes smoothly” said the guide. He handed me a stack of documents to sign. The sheets were dense, full of legal and scientific jargon I didn't really understand. But my excitement won out. I told myself it was probably just a formality.

I signed without hesitation, then was ushered into a small booth off to one side.

“ Please enter this cabin. We need you to undress and leave all your belongings here, including any digital devices”. I obeyed, thinking it was to put on some special equipment, maybe even real PSG match gear. But once undressed, one of the scientists took all my stuff and closed the cabin door behind you.

The cabin I was in was simple, with white walls and soft lights. I was starting to feel slightly nervous, but I pushed those thoughts aside. After all, I was here for a unique experience.

But something wasn't right. The cabin began to emit a dull hum, and the walls around you lit up in a strange way. Suddenly, a breath of fresh air escaped, followed by a strange tingling sensation on your skin. The buzzing intensified, and waves passed through your body, leaving you with a sensation of warmth, first slight, then increasingly intense.

I felt strange, as if my body were reacting to something invisible. My skin began to stretch, my limbs lengthened inexplicably. I wanted to move, but I felt frozen in place, unable to control my movements.

My heart was beating faster, but it seemed to be beating outside me, as if my body had become a mere shell. Sensations multiplied as I gradually lost the perception of myself as a human being. My muscles contracted, then relaxed, slowly breaking down, fiber by fiber.

My mind was in total confusion. I didn't understand what was happening to me, but I felt that something irreversible was happening. My thoughts scattered, your identity slowly faded away as your body was transformed into malleable matter.

Once the dissolution was complete, my remaining residues were transformed into fibers. I was stretched, twisted and reassembled into a continuous thread. During this process, I gradually lost my human consciousness, turning into a textile material. I became a material, a textile substance ready to be used and shaped for a new creation.

Once the thread was formed, the machine stopped and the cabin opened. The scientists reappeared, exchanging satisfied glances.

“Let's see the final result” says one of them. He runs his fingers along the wire I've become, while another scientist checks data on a screen. “The transformation is very conclusive. The texture is homogeneous, and the molecular structure is stable. The yarn is very strong, yet light. This is exactly what we needed for the rest of the process”. “We finally have the perfect organic material to make what sir has been waiting for. After several attempts, this person was the right one. And to think that this young supporter didn't even take the time to read the documents he signed. His blind enthusiasm and unthinking devotion have led him to a unique destiny: to become a piece of clothing for his club forever. Send the wire to the factory for assembly. We have to meet the deadline”

I was wound into spools, taken away and transported to a new destination.

I was shipped to a specialized textile mill, woven into a solid, uniform navy-blue fabric, cut into pieces according to a precise pattern and assembled to create the undershirt. The sewing process finalized my transformation into a ready-to-wear garment.

I was carefully packed and sent straight to the Parc des Princes stadium. I arrived in the dressing room, where the kitman in charge of the players' equipment unpacked me and placed me carefully folded in Kylian Mbappe's locker.

The locker room was quiet as we waited for the players to arrive. Not a sound. It took forever. Then the players arrived, including Kylian Mbappe. I felt his hand close over me and inspect me for a moment, his fingers gliding over your surface, before slipping me under his main jersey.

“Hmm, this feels really different” Kylian murmurs as he adjusts the sleeves, testing the sensation against his skin. “It's light, but it's like it's breathing with me” He makes a few movements to check my flexibility. “Not bad at all. It's exactly what I needed. The fabric is soft, but it has this... sturdy feel. I feel like I'm going to be able to move freely without it bothering me”. Kylian continues to test me, raising his arms, bending down, jumping slightly on the spot. “It keeps me dry. Even here, in the changing room, I can feel it regulating the temperature. I don't get that clammy feeling you sometimes get with other undershirts”.

On the pitch, the sensations run wild. Every time Kylian sprints, makes a technical move or changes direction, I'm subjected to compression and stretching forces. The constant pressure and friction are new sensations for me. Every impact has to be absorbed in such a way as to minimize disruption to Kylian.

My fabric, designed to wick away moisture, is in constant interaction with Kylian's sweat. This persistent absorption seems crucial to maintaining his comfort and performance. As an undershirt, my fabric body have to effectively manage this moisture, distributing it throughout my fabric to avoid accumulation that could cause discomfort.

As an undershirt, I have to provide constant support. The cut and seams are made to fit Kylian's body perfectly, offering both support and comfort. Every seam, every insertion must be impeccable to avoid chafing or distortion that could affect his game.

The match is over. Every fibre of my being is saturated with sweat, soaked in Kylian's warmth. I've been worn, I've been useful, I've been... his.

But the happiness was short-lived. In one swift movement, Kylian pulls me off and throws me in his locker, like a worthless object. The air is now freezing. I lay there in the corner of his locker, motionless and useless.

Time passes... or maybe not... because the notion of time is escaping me more and more.

Finally, a hand grabs me. It's that of the person in charge of the equipment. I'm handled and tossed into a dirty clothes bag. I find myself among other clothes, all soaked with sweat, all marked by the effort of the person wearing them. We're crammed together, pressed against each other.

The bag starts moving, carrying me towards the launderette. Each jolt reminds me of my new reality. I'm just another garment to be cleaned, stripped of all traces of life and human warmth.

I'm thrown into a machine without the slightest consideration. The cold water overwhelms me and cleanses me. Every fibre of my body is abused, turned inside out, wrung out. Kylian's sweat is washed away, his musk erased... and with them, that little feeling of belonging disappears. I have become a simple piece of cloth, washed and disinfected, with no soul, no memory.

The spinning compresses me, crushes me. I'm emptied, compressed, reduced to a state of pure fabric, without warmth, without life. Drying... the hot air passes through me, making me lighter, but also emptying me of any trace of what I once was. I'm nothing more than an undershirt, clean, dry... and empty.

Finally, I'm taken out of the machine. I'm folded, put away and placed in a dark closet with the other undershirts. I'm no longer struggling. I'm in the dark, motionless... but this immobility, this waiting, is no longer important. Waiting... that's all clothes do.

The closet is silent. I am among the other clothes, perfectly folded. Time no longer has any meaning for me.

Where am I ? Who am I ? What is my real nature ? I'm... what ? An undershirt ? Yes, an undershirt. But… where do I come from ? What have I become ? The questions float unanswered, in the void. Here in the dark, all I know... is wait. Wait…why ? Why wait ? My role... is... to be a piece of clothing.

My only thoughts are of serving, of being worm. I want the sweat. I need the musk... need to comfort and support my owner. I no longer have conscious thoughts, desires or dreams. My humanity is gone, replaced by the pure essence of a piece of clothing. I no longer feel the emotions and thoughts of a human being.

I am an undershirt, a simple fabric, entirely devoted to serving my master, Kylian Mbappé. When the time comes, when he wear me again, I will be ready. But until that day, I remain here, still, accepting my destiny as clothing.

Thanks to @inanimatetffantasies for his support and advice in writing this story

[lovethytendytenderly]

Got too deep in the tenderhorny and started thinking about jars/tanger smut.

What if I just listened to my celestial bodies playlist instead of thinking about more sad ned/jars or jars/tanger aus

[punks-never-die205]

I just went to a renaissance faire where there was a blacksmith engraving kids’ initials on horseshoes and bending metal into hearts for fair maidens and all I could think of was kid and killer running that booth in pirate “costumes” in a modern au and Heat doing fire breathing performances for teenagers and Wire running the axe throwing booth and giving lessons on how to throw tridents and shoot bows

Any thoughts on an AU like that? This blog has given me kid pirates brain rot for real 😂

Oh 1000000% the kid pirates would have a booth at the ren faire.

Kid would definitely run a blacksmith booth, and I could see him having some medieval styled prosthetics on display too.

Killer would have a food booth that sold like, three things - Turkey legs, pasta, and beer. XD Okay, I jest, there'd be some more stuff on the menu, but the big sellers would be those three.

And spot on for the other two - Wire has waivers for people to sign, not because of accidental injury, but "when you become a badass javelin thrower, you do not tell the court that I taught you." XD

[grantmentis]

Some notes for today:

-waiver wire begins at 5pm for roster cuts from camp

-closes at 3pm tomorrow

-rosters finalized tomorrow by 5pm

-any player drafted this year in the waiver wire can be claimed by another team, but the team that drafted them can match that contract to retain them. If they do not, the new team gets them and the original team forfeits the hold on their contract rights for the two seasons they were alloted at the draft