#and the way it helped me process some things and understand myself better

[heyhoneyfox]

Writing advice from a 17 year old caffeine-dependent ADHDer who has been writing ever since he could hold a pencil:

First and foremost, write that outline. Figure out exactly what you're going to do with your story before you do anything else. Write down all the important plot points first, then expand on them as needed. Write your main characters (at least their basic traits), do some worldbuilding, and once you have that foundation, THEN start writing the actual scenes.

Talk to people about your stories, especially if you're in a group with other storytellers. This gives you the opportunity to hear how others process and view your work, which can help a lot with your confidence in your writing, your motivation to write, and your own understanding of your writing. You can also request a specific type of feedback (questions, constructive criticism, compliments, blunt criticism, etc.) so you get responses that will actually help you.

DO NOT USE AI FOR WRITING NO MATTER WHAT. "But I just use it for-" I DO NOT CARE, YOU ARE STILL USING A BRAIN-EATING, CREATIVITY-KILLING MACHINE THAT WILL ONLY HARM YOUR WRITING. I used to use AI and it stunted my growth as a writer so greatly that I had to commit myself to never using it again, and I know that sounds scary for those of you still using it, but it will have to happen eventually if you want to grow as a writer. It will not do you any good, no matter what you use it for. "But it makes it easy for me to make stories!" Write more oneshots. Write outlines. Write short stories. Fucking daydream at least. "But I use it to proofread!" Proofread your own damn work. It's not hard, and it's way better for your mind and the story itself. "But—" DO IT YOURSELF OR ASK A FRIEND, A HUMAN BEING, TO HELP YOU. IT NEEDS TO BE DONE BY A HUMAN OR IT WILL BE STRAIGHT ASS. THAT IS NOT UP FOR DEBATE. I hope I drilled that in well enough.

I get it, sometimes you're low on energy, so you need easy ways to develop your story. If you don't know how to do that without AI, because you CANNOT keep sucking robot dick for the sake of instant gratification, here are some easy ones (depending on your skillset): draw your characters and settings, write fake text conversations between characters, use picrew to make your characters, make Pinterest mood boards, or just turn off your phone and daydream about your story! There are a million ways to work on a story without actually writing it, so don't feel too bad if you only have the energy to plan out that one scene in your head instead of writing it. And who knows, maybe doing these little things will actually give you the motivation you needed to write.

Write when you feel big emotions, if you can. You'll pour your heart and soul into your work, and not only will that benefit your writing, but it will also benefit you by helping you process your emotions in a healthy manner.

Finally, give your brain lots of good associations with writing! Have your favourite tea with you and your favourite blanket around your shoulders while you write, or have your favourite instrumentals in the background while sitting in your favourite lighting, or pretend to be a renaissance scholar with a candle and a nice outfit while you write if that's what you need. Make it fun for yourself so your brain will get excited about writing, even if you only do this sometimes!

The most important advice I can give is just. keep on writing. Your stories are a blessing. Even if people criticise your work, even if you feel completely unmotivated, even if you feel like you're not good at it, keep writing for as long as it brings you joy, and share it when you can, because it will bring so many other people joy too, more than you can ever know.

[pardonmydelays]

clancy is going to be one year old tomorrow and somehow i can't stop crying

[hermitsdump]

kind of amazing how you can spend 99% of your life forgetting about someone's existence and still have nightmares about them for... nearly 20 years at this point. it's been 10 years since seeing them. fucj

[vetyr]

hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT

Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.

When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.

I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.

Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.

For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.

Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.

The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!

It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.

I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).

Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)

[koffeinkaos]

"Merlin?" Arthur called as he opened the door to his chambers. Merlin and him had fought earlier and after blowing off some steam on the training ground with Leon he was ready to admit Merlin was right.

But now only silence greeted him, no Merlin, not even the crackling of flames in his fireplace that would promise the servant's eventual return with dinner. That was strange.

Was Merlin still so mad he didn't even want to see Arthur? Should he go to the physician's tower to apologize or was it better to leave him alone for a while?

Well, whatever he did, he should at least get out of his armour first. And wash.

This would be challenging without help but if Arthur was one thing it was stubborn. And after some pulling and pushing and multiple minutes bent over so much his head almost touched the ground he was finally free from the heavy weight of his chainmail. The rest of it was fairly easy despite Merlin's accusations of Arthur not being able to dress himself so it wasn't long until he was clothed in his sleeping tunic and a pair of brown soft trousers. He would apologize to Merlin tomorrow. It was late anyway, Arthur only wanted to read the speech for tomorrow one last time before he would head to bed.

Sauntering over to his desk he frowned as his papers had clearly been touched. The note on top was new, but the tiny handwriting was familiar. Merlin

Rounding the desk, he took the parchment and began to read.

My Arthur

Arthur

Dollop

Arthur,

you're a prat, but I forgive you. By now you surely have had enough stab and punch time that your huge head could process that I was entirely right as always.

Arthur snorted, he could almost see the smirk on Merlin's face as he wrote the words down.

Unfortunately I cannot be there to tell you so myself. You see I have little time to explain why but I'll do my best as you should prepare for the worst. Please try to understand

Please don't hate me.

I understand if you would hate me

A strange feeling grew inside Arthur's gut, Merlin was never hesitant when he spoke to Arthur. Whether he was spitting treasonous insults or vowing undying loyalty, he always did it with a certainty that left Arthur speechless. To see entire lines crossed out, rewritten only to be taken back again left the king feeling uneasy.

Do you remember the druid boy we smuggled out of Camelot years ago? Mordred?

He joined Morgana in her efforts to claim Camelots throne for herself and unfortunately he knows abou something about me that gave them... leverage. It's complicated, but they know I would protect you with my life. Morgana always knew that I

It's what I was born to do, Arthur. But it's also what I chose for myself and I could never regret that. I am so incredibly grateful I got to be your servant, your friend, for the past five years.

Even though you were a prat in the beginning - and sometimes now - I hope you know I treasure the glimpses you let me get of you, the unguarded you. I hoped I would be there when you would be ready to let the rest of Camelot see that side of you as well. They will love you for it. How could they not

Just like me

I do too. I love you.

The words wrapped around Arthur's heart, squeezing tighter and tighter every time he read them. Merlin felt the same way? Since when? And why tell him in a letter?

They have my mother. And I swore I would do anything to protect you but I cannot abandon her, please forgive me. If I can save her by sacrificing myself, I'll do it gladly.

If I could ask you for a favour, would you please bring her to Camelot and make sure she's alright? This is a lot to ask and you have plenty of things to do but I'd feel better if I know she's not alone while grieving

I have to leave now. I wish I could see you one last time but I fear you would see right through me and I don't want to lie anymore.

I fear Morgana will take advantage once I'm no longer there to protect you, you should reach out to the druids they can help you.

Gaius got a letter as well, giving him permission to tell you what Mordred knows. I'm so sorry I will not be there to face your anger or to answer all of your questions.

I have no right to ask your forgiveness now, I only want to ask you to not blame yourself.

Eternally yours,

Merlin

The panic that rose in Arthur's chest was unlike anything he ever felt before. Before he read the sign off, he was already out of his chair and on his way to Gaius while screaming at some passing servant to prepare his horse and inform the knights. He prayed to every God he knew of, that Merlin told Gaius, where he went.

How long was Merlin gone?

How long would it take Arthur to find out where he went?

He would be too late, oh gods, he would be too late and Merlin would be-

No. Stop panicking. We need a plan. We will find Merlin and bring him back home. Gaius will know where to look.

[deerboybreeder]

LONG fucking fantasy below the cut whoops. Tw for rape, drugging and stalking ♥️

I move to a small town in the middle of nowhere to completely restart my life. The community is small and tight knit, but thankfully extremely accepting, so me being trans is a non issue! Or at least, people have the decency to not say anything about it to my face. I feel welcomed in this town, though I spend a lot of my time improving the patch of land I moved onto and less talking to residents, even though I've met nearly everyone.

I start getting letters in the mail, complimenting me in sweet, flowery language. It makes me feel special, but there's no return address, so I can't write back. But over time, the letters get more possessive. Once, the letter describes my body fairly graphically, in all the most complimenting ways, but it's clear they saw me working shirtless in my garden, tits free to the wind. My land is huge and fenced in, someone would have to have jumped my fence and gotten very close without my noticing to see me doing that.

I start spending a little less time at home and more time in town, hoping to make some connections to keep my mind off my "secret admirer", who started recently describing how beautiful and motherly of a man I would make swollen with his baby. I don't tell anyone about it, embarrassed by the content, and the fact that despite the obvious escalation, it makes me wet to think about all this attention. I'm not beloved by the town, but I make a few good friends.

One day, a year to the day I moved into town, a package shows up at my door. Its from my secret admirer, a very small bottle of wine with a letter attached. Praising all my accomplishments this year, in detail, in order. Singing my praises and wishing for even more in the upcoming year. Against my better judgement, I accept, and take the wine inside.

I generally am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol- I learned that recently, out with friends at the local bar. One had bought me a drink and I needed help home afterwards, and the friend that bought me the round felt so badly about my state he walked me home himself. But I had nothing else to do that day, so I poured myself a glass anyway.

I don't drink often, so I didn't recognize right away that something was wrong. Didn't notice that I was fading in and out of consciousness on the couch until one moment I was watching a documentary on wilderness survival, and the next it was about space travel. My body was heavy, I could barely move, so the couch would have to do that night.

I almost chalked it up to overindulgence when my front door opened.

It was a small town- I had no reason to lock my door. Even my secret admirer hadn't made mention of wanting to break in, just lamented that they couldn't work up the courage to approach me first. But apparently, this was how they chose to do it.

I yelled, a slurred and disoriented thing. Time was runny, and I didn't even have time to process running before they were on me. A mask, sunglasses and a ball cap obscured my attackers face, hair seeming meticulously tucked into the cap to further obscure their identity.

I tried to struggle, but I'm small and they're much bigger- not to mention the wine that I realize must've been drugged. They shush me, clearly altering their voice so I wouldn't know who they are- small town, after all.

They pull up my shirt, tangling me in it and covering my face so I can't see them. Everything is running together, and at some point they've taken my pants off too, Im lying naked before them. Everything narrows down to sensations that run together. A mouth sucking on my nipple, my attackers hands running reverently down my body. They're murmuring words I can't understand because my head is swimming from the spiked drink. Their fingers find my wet and waiting slit, and they thumb over my tdick, and despite myself I make a strangled noise.

Then, I am aware of their cock at my entrance, and I get another burst of fighting, but it's useless. They shush me, kissing the side of my face through the fabric of the shirt around my face, and promise to be gentle as they push themself into my dripping cunt. They moan openly into my ear, muffled by the shirt, and start playing with my tits while they rape me.

Everything is blurry, I keep slipping in and out of consciousness, only to wake up and find that they're still fucking me. They whisper praises, saying they wish they'd done this a year ago when I first moved in, how much of a tease I was working in my garden shirtless or changing in front of the window. How we were going to be so happy together, how excited they were to realize I had a womb they could fill. How they'd start with one, but they knew I would look heavenly round and heavy with their baby for the rest of my life.

I don't know how much time passed, them using my pliant body like a cocksleeve. They were mostly true about being gentle, aside from the bruising on my hips where they held me down. They came against my waiting cervix at least once, but it all ran together for me. After cumming inside me, they gently rubbed my stomach over my womb, scratching the trail of dark hair that sprouted over the year taking testosterone.

I wanted to cry, but they stayed inside me growing soft for a while, gently fondling me or kissing my body. Eventually, I blacked out entirely.

The next morning I couldn't pretend it was a dream- I was left tangled up in my clothes, though a blanket from my room was draped over me and my TV turned off. My cunt was sore and I had the world's worst hangover. I stumbled to the shower and tried not to throw up.

I didn't want to be alone, so after my chickens were fed I went down to the friends house who helped me home that night. He had been so kind, and we'd started getting close. He had even dismissed a mutual friend making a joke about taking advantage of me the night he helped me home- he'd just helped me to my bed and left. I could trust him.

He knew something was off the moment he saw me, and ushered me inside. He got me water from his fridge, and sat down with me to let me talk.

I told him everything. First about the rape that night, then elaborating to the stalker in tears. He looked horrified, and let me sob in his arms. He was so kind to me, so good to me. I told him I didn't want to be alone. He offered to move in with me for a little while, to make sure nothing else happened. I agreed immediately, and he started packing up his things right that second.

His time spent moved in was nice. I got up early for my chickens and garden, but somehow he was always up earlier, making me coffee and breakfast. Some days he even watered my plants for me, just to be kind. He was sweet, always there to support me. He slept on the couch with no complaints, and even held me close when a noise outside had me convinced the stalker was going to break down the now locked door and rape me again.

The admirers notes slowed. They first were promises of coming back again, to see my "beautiful fertile body" up close again. Then threats when my friend moved in. Then nothing. I thought the nightmare was over.

I had chalked up the throwing up to a traumatic response and the drugs working their way out of my system. When it continued I didn't think much of it. Attributed the weight gain to my friend fussing over me and making sure I ate well. But the slightly round look of my stomach unsettled me, so I bit the bullet and took a pregnancy test.

Positive.

I was in hysterics when I saw the lines, and my friend ran into the room asking if I was hurt. I just shook my head and showed him the test, and he took me into his arms. We both know by this point it was too late to abort in the state this town was in, and travel costs put it out of the question if I could go out of state to have it done.

My friend assured me that it would be alright. That he'd help me through this. That he'd even help me raise the baby if I didn't want to be a single father.

Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, maybe it was the kindness he'd shown me this past month or two. Maybe it was the way he looked up at me, having knelt down in front of me to make his promise of support. But I kissed him. I had fallen in love with this man, who'd taken care of me in my time of greatest need. And with the way he kissed me back, he'd fallen for me too.

It was like a switch was flipped, like he had been holding back this entire time. I invited him into my bed, and every night his hands were on me. I loved the way he felt, so happy to have someone else touch me after what happened. Every touch was adoring and reverent, he made me feel like a prince. Id beg him to cum deep inside me and breed me, and he'd get a look in his eyes when he pounded my cunt. It helped me pretend it was his baby growing inside me, especially when he'd put his hand on my growing stomach protectively.

Our relationship moved quickly. We were dating for only three months when he proposed to me, but it felt like three years. Gladly I accepted, and it took only two months to set up the wedding. He handled everything, insistent I just relax because he didn't want to stress out the baby. I was heavily pregnant at our wedding, and I heard a few murmurs about it being a shotgun wedding. I let them gossip- I hadn't told anyone about my attack, and I didn't care if they thought we were just getting married because I got knocked up. My husband and I knew the truth.

Those final few months were hard, but my wonderful husband took such good care of me. Doted on me hand and foot, took care of the chickens entirely, and with winter setting in soon I didn't need to tend the garden at all. This loving wonderful man cared for me through every stage of this unwanted pregnancy and turned it into the start of a beautiful life. It was like a scene out of a romance novel.

My labor was hard, but he was there through it all. Fussing over me and ensuring I got the best care. It hurts beyond words, the baby huge and heavy, but I managed. A sweet baby girl.

He was overjoyed. The next two months spent in a sleepy newborn haze, of course. But he was always there, at my side. He cooked dinner, kept the house tidy, watched the baby as I tended the chickens, our main income aside from a few residuals from some old novel he wrote years ago. He didn't even ask for sex, knowing I was healing, even if I wanted to regardless of doctors orders. But we waited.

The anniversary of the attack came and went, and he held me through my sobs. Reminded me that even if the experience was horrible, we had our beautiful daughter, and our beautiful relationship, because of it. And he was right. I was able to leave it behind.

As time wore on, he continued to be an amazing husband. Attentive in daily life, wonderful to our child, and absolutely fantastic in bed.

Nights spent after the baby was sleeping entwined in each other. His cock buried to the hilt in my needy cunt, his mouth on my heavy milky tits. Some nights, id let him take Polaroid photos of me impaled on his cock, or sucking him off, or stroking my tdick as his cum leaked out of me. I never saw where he kept them, but the idea that my body was so important to him he kept photos around made me feel good and loved. I never needed to ask with him, he somehow always knew what I needed, and I was often marked with hickies along my body from him. He said he was claiming every part of me.

A few months into summer, I felt off again. This time I didn't wait, and took a pregnancy test right away. Positive again. We weren't trying explicitly, but we weren't preventing it either, especially not with how I begged him to breed me every night. I told him, and he was overjoyed. I felt like I was in a fairy tale.

We decided to turn his old stuff into a playroom, since the nursery itself was small. I set to work on it in the mornings, while he was making breakfast. It was a lot to take down and move, so it took a while. While emptying his desk to have him move it to storage, I found a little cardboard box. Curious, I opened it up.

At first I thought it was the dirty photos he had taken of me. The idea of him alone in his study, fucking his hand to these photos when working late on a new story made me shiver. But then, under those photos were more. Candid shots of me out with friends, even before the baby. I hadn't gotten out much after the baby came, not like I went much of anywhere after the attack. These photos were old.

Then, the ones from my home. In through the windows while I was changing. My shirtless working in my garden. Me reaching for a gift wrapped bottle of wine.

With shaking hands, I set the box down. My husband, unbeknownst to me, had come up behind me. He wrapped his arms tightly around me, in a way hours ago I would find protective but now felt like a vice grip.

"What's the matter, love?" He asked, as he placed a hand over my womb, once again full of his child. "I told you we were meant to be. That you would look beautiful heavy with my baby for the rest of your life. I know you think so too. Why else would you beg me to breed that fertile, beautiful body of yours again? Just as I said before. If it weren't for that night, we wouldn't have our daughter, or our marriage. I just wish I'd done it sooner."

[comicaurora]

Tahraim is my fav absolutely adore him! I love that you’ve made the smith deal in introspection and cryptic bs, a lot of times smiths are very straightforward characters in stories. What made you decide to shake it up?

Can gods be tied to concepts as well as cities? As Tahraim seems to be a god of blacksmithing (or at least has some serious motifs) does he have a city thats just forges?

He also seems a lot more mobile than the other gods, or is he just “tied” to Danix?

Tahraim is a conceptual god, a class of deity considered grander and more untethered than city or nature gods. Also in his weight class are Emnis and Erebas (dreams and nightmares), Shanyasi (music), Sennaia (knowledge), Jiya (war), and a whole bunch of others. They're gods of ideas, and their domains are in the collective consciousness of mortals. They can manifest anywhere they hold sway, and several of them have constructed domains of their own in pocket dimensions; Sennaia has a transfinite library hidden away somewhere, and Tahraim has a forge.

Tahraim's personality comes from my own experience with artists and craftspeople. Many artists are acutely aware that in order for their work to be better, they need to be better. The process of creation and introspection becomes inextricably linked. Forging a tool changes the forger, little by little.

There's also an element I've observed from teachers. I was always a firm proponent of "don't be cryptic or cute, just tell me the thing and I'll get it," and while that's true a lot of the time, there are concepts that cannot be Just Told in any meaningful way. They don't hit or stick if the person doesn't put them together themselves and construct a way that works for them. Teaching isn't always the impartation of information; a lot of the time it's guidance so the student crafts the tools that work for them. Even if the teacher can perfectly communicate what method works for them, everyone is different, and a student that does the exact same thing exactly right might gain no benefits or be actively harmed by the process. Instead, the student has to parse the lesson and create their own tools to execute the same goal.

Personal example under a readmore because it got a little long:

I've sporadically dealt with intrusive thoughts my whole life, though I didn't understand what they were at the time and they've mostly gone away on their own. When I was little, upsetting thoughts would get stuck in my head and stay there; things would give me nightmares that lasted for weeks, or I'd be stuck awake in the wee hours ruminating on every time in my life I'd done something shameful or harmful or wrong. My dad recognized I was upset, and tried to teach me a method of "counting thoughts" that worked for him, where I could sit for a few minutes and just passively observe the thoughts floating by, counting them and observing them and thus becoming aware that they were small, fleeting things with no power on their own. The problem is, this method didn't work for me at all, because "count the thought" didn't communicate to me "and that makes the thought not a problem anymore." The thought still hurt just as bad, all I was doing was reminding myself how many bad thoughts were happening. I would get overwhelmed and end up more distressed, and the fact that this thing that should have worked didn't work just convinced me that I was trapped and nobody could ever help me.

It took actual years before I found a method that clicked in my brain, and it was just one step further down the path of counting thoughts:

"Having that thought is harmless."

Every thought that got stuck in my head was about times or ways I might've harmed people. The things that distressed me most were things I'd done wrong that I had zero power to change, so the wrongness would just haunt me forever, making me miserable forever. But the root of the distress was that I had messed up and hurt people.

The thing that clicked was that having the thought does nothing to anyone but me. The thought is harmless, even if the event the thought is about wasn't or wouldn't be. Having the thought hurts no-one else. And since 90% of my distress was distress at the thought of hurting other people, it hit me that in reality, even in the depths of my angst, I was just sitting there, hurting no-one.

And suddenly I found that the last few intrusive thoughts rattling around in my brain withering, because the last thing that had been feeding them was gone. I was given the technique for Counting Thoughts, but it wasn't made for my hands. I had to make my own version out of it. And just because it worked for me and my own personal brain doesn't mean this method would work for someone else, just the same way the method that worked for my dad didn't click for me. If I wanted to teach someone a way to bypass intrusive thoughts, all I would have to work on would be what worked for me, but I could try to guide them through a path similar to the one I followed to find my method so they could maybe find their specific hangups and what specifically would work for them. Every mind is different.

This is also why it's so frustrating to hear someone say stuff like "Oh I used to worry about that too, but it's actually fine, you can just stop worrying about it!" And it's like, "oh, fuckin brilliant, just stop worrying about it? Absolute genius, I just hadn't thought of that-" like yea it sounds flippant and yea it's not helpful, but they are using the only frame of reference they have and describing what they did. They stressed about something, realized it was not actually a problem, and knowing that was enough to make it leave their mind alone. But saying that they "just stopped worrying" doesn't make you understand or internalize how they did it. And because they can't seem to help you, it makes you mad. But then sometimes, with time and perspective, you look back and think "wow, yea, at some point I really did just stop worrying about that." It doesn't mean their advice worked, it just means somewhere along the line something clicked in your mind and started working.

Tahraim is a smith who sees no difference between shaping a tool and shaping a person, but there are some ways that people can't be shaped from the outside, and instead have to shape themselves. He likes to be subtle and cryptic, but he also has good reason to be. The only way to make something click in someone's head is to guide them towards it and nudge them when necessary. It's not all hitting stuff with hammers.

[omega-e123]

!! NSFW !!

Suggestive. Blood mention.

AKA: Intro to very self indulgent rut fic. You have been warned

In A Rut..

Prologue (HERE!) || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration

Odd behavior.

There Shadow goes again, walking off. He’s been acting strange lately. At first Shadow was practically clinging on to you.

Normally he doesn’t initiate physical contact, but at home he’s been snuggling into you, holding your body down so you can’t leave him. Attempting to part ways results a grumbly hedgehog.

The kisses don’t stop coming either. Knuckles every time you hold hands. Cheeks and forehead whenever he has to leave, no matter how short of an absence. Even if he’s going to be right back.

Jealousy has also become a big thing. Talking to anyone Shadow deems as a “threat”, he’s looming behind you, head on your shoulder and hands on your hips.

The worst it got was on a date at a bar. Shadow left momentarily to get you a drink. When he returned, someone was flirting you up. Enraged, the glass completely shattered in his hand. It sure scared off that guy. You had to bring attention to the shards in his hand, because he wasn’t concerned at all about it. Instead, Shadow slammed some money on the table and took your hand with the non injured one and left.

Next thing you knew, he’s been keeping distance from you. Both physically and shortening the time you two hung out.

He’s stopped initiating all together. Any advances you made Shadow wouldn’t turn down, but he would abruptly stop or attempt to keep it short. Started wearing a mask around you too.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Something is wrong with him. Your smell alone has started making his head spin. Every fiber of his being is drawn to you. Seeing you forces his quills to stand up on end.

Is this what a heart attack feels like? The pounding drum that is his heart is deafening. There’s no room to think. The only thing on his mind was you.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about you that way. Hell, it’s not like you two haven’t done the deed either; however, the intensity and frequency of these feelings have been cranked up to 100. It felt more primal.

The complete self restraint Shadow has to not pin you against the nearest wall, public or not, and shove his tongue down your throat is tearing him apart.

Such odd behavior was concerning. Swallowing every bit of ego and embarrassment, he turns to Rouge for answers.

Some help she was. That damn bat.

“Sorry, no can do. Sounds like a biological thing and not in the alien sense. I know you’ll hate to hear this but, try asking Sonic about it. You both are hedgehogs after all.”

“I think I would prefer skinning myself and be turned into a rug—“

She gives him a hard pat on the back, “Don’t say that. It wouldn’t be so bad~ I suppose you could ask Amy about it too… Or suffer! Your choice.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

What’s worse? Confronting Amy or Sonic?

That blue little shit would never let him live it down. Sonic could implode from hysterical laughter if Shadow told him about these thoughts.

Amy… It’s simply too TMI. While she is understanding and more open, what if she didn’t know anything.

Shadow’s instincts pull him towards the former option. Unfortunately for the hedgehog, he was semi right.

Sonic took a good minute turned away from Shadow. His hand clasped over his mouth and the other holding his stomach. Sonic reeling in his laughter and forcing not a sound to come out.

“Nono! Sorry! It’s cute!”

“Cute?” Shadow’s eyes narrow.

Sonic waves his hand, as if he’s fanning the comment away. “Never mind. Sometimes I forget you’re bioengineered. What you’re going through is a rut.”

“This better not be some kind of joke.”

Hands in the air, feigning surrender. “I’m not. You’ve probably never experienced it before because you ain’t got bitches you never had a partner. It’s the one time a year hormones go crazy. Some other Mobians also experience it too, like deer.”

Shadow’s massages his temples, processing the new information. “You’re telling me, it’s a biological signal that it is time to breed.”

“Odd way to put it but yeah, basically. Lasts about two months. What you do with that information is up to you. G’luck buddy” he gives Shadow a thumbs up and runs off.

Two whole months. Only about two and a half weeks have passed and already Shadow can’t stop thinking about you splayed on his bed begging for his touch.

[yuurivoice]

Man what the fuck do you mean we are getting into another goddamn war in the middle east over nukes our own intelligence can't seem to agree on the existence of? What in the Now That's What I Call 2000's kind of bullshit is this???

There are clear and obvious consequences and concerns here, but something that strikes me is how the timing of this is set to galvanize the angry young men in the States who are poor and unable to find their role in the workforce and will be preyed upon by recruiters to go play soldier when they're better fit to be a goddamn electrician but you don't get a signing bonus for going into a trade like you do when signing up to go get shot at.

They've been fed so much bullshit, and a war will help solidify their half baked beliefs about the world because they'll be looking at it through range finders and scopes.

Muhammad Ali had a particular quote about a certain word no Viet Cong ever called him. That quote made so much goddamn sense to me, I was a kid at the time when I first heard it. But damn. We really are about to send off some kids to war while their kin are liable to get kidnapped by ICE, shit, they'll cook up a "service for citizenship" process and act like it's a fucking gift.

Tired of brown folks getting demonized, displaced, and slaughtered. Tired of watching the ignorant think any of these recent events make them exempt or safe from fascism. Heartbroken to see how cold and hard-hearted the average American can be. It's painful to see propaganda work over time. To see the anti-authoritarian homies from two decades ago succumb to boot licking and cult of personality politics.

Had to come back at 5am to finish writing this because I wrote myself to sleep around midnight trying to make sense of it all. And the thing is, hate doesn't make sense. Somewhere along the way, some insidious thing tipped the scales and people became incurious and fearful instead of inquisitive and hungry to learn.

How are we supposed to win back the minds of people who are so entrenched in their hate that they can cheer for atrocities and injustices? How could any of those who have been wronged set aside their righteous anger and fury long enough to be bothered trying to flip the point of view of someone who could be so cruel? That is too much to ask.

There's no way this is the endgame, right? That humanity becomes so calloused and hateful that we choke ourselves on petty differences and ignorance as our planet dies out while we suffocate in the blaze of it all. Have we failed so often for so long that it'll only be in our last gasps that we realize how foolish we've become?

It feels unhelpful to wonder these things out loud, but on the other hand, maybe it's a comfort for others to see that anyone can be bothered to wonder these things at all at this point.

If we have passed the event horizon and it's just a matter of time, the best we can do is try to support those who need it and love each other. Feed the connections to those who bring you joy and laughter. Embrace loving people, and even if shit gets really, really grim...trust that love endures. It will outlast and overcome hate every time. Even if it's a naive, childish sentiment, that's where I'm putting what little faith I have to spare. When some strange creature seeks to understand what happened to us when we are all long gone, I hope they see that in the ashes they'll find the bones of those who chose to embrace one another as the darkness approached. Let them gaze in wonder at the human capacity to love.

Take care of yourselves. 💖

[carawenfiction]

So...remember how I said in that update post how I might MAYBE do a TSS rewrite and post it for free?

"Maybe" quickly turned into "definitely happening". Instead of making it outside of COG, however, the finished product that's already published will be updated with the rewritten files. This means that if you've already purchased TSS through COG, you'll have the rewritten version available. That's how I originally intended to go about things with the old rewrite and is the better option here to avoid potential complications.

I've been in contact with COG and they've let me know that I'd be able to do what I have in mind even if this results in a different wordcount and very different scenes/plot points and a different kind of main story.

I realize that this announcement is probably pretty jarring since my last post stated that I wasn't sure about doing a rewrite but that I wanted to if I had enough time. After making that post, I started creating an outline for the rewrite mostly for fun...and one thing kind of led to another. I want you all to know that I wouldn't be making this post at all if I wasn't sure about this. It's because I've already begun the process and feel incredibly motivated and inspired that I can do this that I'm making this announcement.

This rewrite is not going to be like my old attempt at a rewrite, though. It's an entirely new one that I feel much more confident about.

So far I've written the outline for the rewrite and started reworking already existing scenes from chapter 1 as well some new ones. I'm happy to say that the difference between how the rewrite process felt years ago compared to now is like light and day. It seems like those years I've taken away from TSS were very healthy and helpful in giving me some distance and letting me figure out what kind of story I really want to tell.

My plan is to rewrite book 1 and then make 1 full continuation after that. Instead of a trilogy, it looks like this version of TSS will be 2 volumes, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it'll be shorter than originally intended. I think it's more doable for me to rewrite the first book (starting from scratch while also using some already written scenes, since I've been assured I'm allowed to do so) and then make 1 complete continuation of it rather than trying to fill stuff out over 3 different entries, and I think it'll serve the plot and story as a whole to do it that way.

That being said, I fully understand that some - or most of you - might have trouble trusting my word after me failing to do the rewrite I wanted to years ago and not delivering a second book. That's completely fair. This time I'm not rushing things and I don't feel any pressure to do this. It's not something I do out of dislike for the original, but rather out of love for what it could be and what I could make it into, if that makes sense. I'm taking as much time as I need to and am not putting any pressure on myself to do this.

My other project takes priority right now so I can't dedicate all of my time to the rewrite, but I'm working on it when I have time over or get stuck. It's actually pretty nice to alternate between two different stories that have different settings and has helped a bit in avoiding writer's block.

Here are some differences between TSS and the TSS rewrite (most of the changes I made to the old rewrite no longer apply):

The rewrite will be told in second-person point of view ("you" instead of "I"). The reason for this is that when I first started TSS I was really unused to the second-person POV, but after having spent years in the IF space it's now the other way around. It'll make writing much easier for for me, and I hope it won't feel too jarring for people who are used to the first person POV.

The Shadowman and Jealene (now "J") will both be genderselectable just like the main cast. The Shadowman will be genderselectable later on, though - it might sound strange but I think it makes sense when you have more context. J plays a bigger role than they did in the original and their personality is a bit different in this version.

Some side characters (such as most of the hideout) will be cut. This is because they felt really underdeveloped to me in the full game and didn't serve much of a purpose. Instead I'm focusing more on the main cast + a few key characters to ensure the story plot stays focused and you get more time to develop bonds of various kinds with the main cast instead.

The relationship system will look a bit different. Instead of bars showing a percentage of approval, I'll write a description of each character and what they think of you. The descriptions will shift when the character starts viewing you differently, whether that's due to rivalry, romance or friendship. My hope is that this will allow for a more nuanced relationship system/descriptions. I'll also adjust the options a bit to try and make choices more nuanced and am thinking of including the option of having ex. a heart next to a romantic choice for those who want to know for sure what they're getting into. The different responses (such as shy, flirty etc.) will stay but some of it will probably be reworked. Essentially what I want to do is allow for a wider range of MCs and how the characters respond to the MC.

The MC is going to have more agency in certain ways. I've included something plot-relevant to the main character that can potentially change the dynamic between them and the group a bit, but it all depends on how you play it.

The tone might be somewhat different. Not entirely, of course, but there are some parts of the old TSS where the characters sound a bit younger than they are supposed to be, where tension and seriousness has been sacrificed in favor of humor and where some of the interactions aren't the way I would prefer for them to be. I've gotten older since writing TSS (gasp) and my tastes have changed, as has my writing to some degree. In order to do a rewrite I'd have to write in a way that's most enjoyable for me and that I feel best fits the story I want to tell. That's not to say that there isn't going to be silliness etc., but I'm adjusting the tone somewhat and putting more time and effort into descriptions and the writing overall.

The narrative will be different, even though the overall story itself will mostly stay the same. I'm keeping a lot of elements and also aim to introduce new ones that I believe will strengthen the story and make it a more enjoyable game overall.

I think those are the main differences I can give away right now without spoiling anything. I'll make sure to post updates when I've got more to share! Once the demo for the rewrite is finished, I'll post it on the forums and link it in an intro post on here.

Thank you all for sticking by me throughout the years. I hope you'll find some comfort in returning to this world, as well as new things to ponder and excite you in this new upcoming version of the story <3

The Azuridia and Quaiel chibis are done by the amazing madebysalfi

[nachobsns]

Hello - I was impressed and extremely relieved by what you wrote in the post about the cult mentality of the Left RE Israel and accusations of genocide. You mentioned that you bought into the mindset until recently. If it's all right for me to ask, what was it that helped you break out of it? (Please feel free to delete/ignore if you'd rather not answer!)

thank you!! and no worries about asking— i think i put something in my pinned post about how people are welcome to send asks about this stuff, although my story isn’t super interesting. i fell down the typical online rabbithole, a couple weeks after october 7; i knew what had happened, at least vaguely, but the posts trickling onto my dash were all about the (undeniably tragic) loss of life in gaza, with little to no acknowledgment of the hamas atrocities that had started the war, so my narrative was pretty one-sided from the beginning. it just continued to snowball as the months went on and people became more radicalized, calling into question the reality of the 10/7 attacks and the humanity of all israelis. i never went all the way down the pipeline to full-on endorsing hamas or justifying their attacks, at least on a personal level, thank god, but i would reblog other people’s posts referring to hamas as a “resistance movement” and calls to boycott starbucks and mcdonald’s and condemnation of the “zionist media” etc etc etc. what pulled me out of it wasn’t any one thing— if someone had directly called me on my flawed logic and antisemitic biases while i was in this mindset, i doubt it would have done much, just reinforced my belief that i was on the “right side of history” and zionists were aggressors who couldn’t be reasoned with. it was mostly just passive observance and a slow exposure to other perspectives. i’m pretty sure the first post that led me to question my thinking was an ask on jewish-vents, which popped up on my dash in like, late july. this led me down another rabbithole, first scouring every single post on jewish-vents, then moving on to more popular jewish blogs that i had seen on “zionist blocklists” (applesauce42069, xclowniex, and spacelazarwolf were probably some of the blogs that influenced me the most, though i told myself i was just hate-scrolling at first, lol). i felt incredibly guilty seeing all the harm the movement i was a part of had caused to random jews and israelis just trying to live their lives and i realized how it went against everything i believed about how minority groups should be treated. from there, the aspect of actually undoing my thinking and changing my behavior for the better still took several weeks. denial of jewish indigenity to the levant in the face of tantamount archeological and cultural evidence was the first to go, as well as any ambiguity in my feelings about hamas. after that, it’s mostly been a slow process of redefining the idf’s actions from a “genocide” to a “war.” i still believe that what’s happening in gaza is unconscionable and horrific, and that too many innocent civilians have died, but i also understand how difficult it is to fight against a terrorist group that systematically embeds itself in civilian populations, and that the ratio of militant to civilian deaths is incredibly low compared to most urban warfare. i quietly deleted my old blog in early august— if i had directly engaged in harassment against jews, i likely would have kept it to make amends to the harmed parties and put a face to my actions, but as was, i had just contributed to the larger atmosphere of antisemitism on this site, and i felt uncomfortable knowing that i had a blog full of sentiments that no longer matched my values and beliefs. i decided i would be better if i took my endorsement out of the equation entirely, because when you’re looking through the notes of a post, it obviously doesn’t matter if someone who’s reblogged it no longer agrees with what was said— their notes still count as tacit approval, and i did not want approval of this “activism” attached to my online presence. i still have unwanted kneejerk reactions that crop up sometimes, particularly around the fundraiser posts from people “in gaza”; even though i know logically that they have all the markers of scams, there is still a part of me that really wants to believe i could help.

[hollowdeath]

Okay I was thinking of writing this myself but like Harry and his crush (who's a talented Potions witch) brews up an aphrodisiac potion into the form of a vapor (inhaled through like an atomizer) and she wants to test it with her best friend (crush lmao) Harry. Idea is a WIP but if you could use it for a smut piece I wouldn't complain 🫣🫣 LOVE YOUR WORK OMFG

Thank you loveee! ❤️

AAAAA thank you for requesting this!!! ive been wanting to write something like this for a while so you gave me the perfect excuse to try it out :D you're the best!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

summary: you and harry have been working on a project involving amortentia, the most powerful love potion to exist, and when harry tests your device the night before it's due, he has some rather intense side effects.

cw: smut!!! dom!harry, fingering, penetration, breeding

word count: 6k

you and harry had spent the entire semester working together on a project that challenged you to create a new form of an old potion. rather than settling for the obvious ideas like turning felix felicis into gummy candies, you and harry had decided to try something a bit more complex.

you knew right away you wanted to work with amortentia more closely, as you had always been fascinated by the potion and its powerful properties, and harry was more than willing to let you take the reins of the project. he gave insight when he could, and spent a fair amount of time helping you figure out the more complicated steps of the process, but he honestly just loved sitting back and watching you work your magic. literally.

you were by far the most knowledgeable student when it came to potions, and undoubtedly one of the smartest witches harry had ever met. he considered himself lucky that you two had already formed a friendship prior to taking potions together, allowing him to pair up with the most sought after partner in the entire class. more than just your knowledge and skill, harry was just excited to be your partner so he could know you better and see how your mind works.

you were excited to work with harry as well, but not to collaborate on potions and fiddle with mechanics you could never understand. you had looked forward to sitting close to him, reading from the same books, talking for hours, and watching his eyes intently focus as he prepared the ingredients for you. of course you two were friends more than anything, and you never considered yourself one of those girls who would fawn over harry for doing absolutely nothing, but working with him so intimately for the entire semester really made you see him differently. he was funny, he was smart, he remembered every little thing about you, and he always brought you snacks when you were working together. it didn't help that you found him absolutely adorable in big sweaters with messy hair, or felt your heart race when he looked at you from over his glasses, or couldn't keep your eyes off his hands when he was helping you put together your atomizer.

speaking of, your project had actually turned out extremely well for the little experience either of you had in engineering such a device. it was a small, handheld diffuser that transformed liquid amortentia, as well as a mix of other potent aphrodisiacs, into a vapor that could be inhaled for the full effect. harry had actually been the one to suggest the idea, trying to figure out a better way to ingest the mixture while still altering its state. you thought it was brilliant, and were surprised at how smooth the process turned out to be.

however, the presentation for the project was tomorrow morning, and you were still fiddling with a few of the mechanics to get it to work just right. it was hard to know when it was fully finished since testing the product wasn't exactly practical, as the effects would have anyone distracted and unable to focus within seconds of inhaling it. you were a bit frustrated sitting alone at your table in the potions lab, a single light above you as the sun had long since set and night took over. your head was in your hands, staring at the atomizer in front of you, wondering if you should just take the chance and test it since you were alone in the classroom.

just as you were convincing yourself, you heard the door creak open to your right, causing you to jump in your seat. you couldn't make out who was there ar first as your eyes were still adjusting to the dark room around you. you hadn't expected anyone to come in anyway, mostly because it was past curfew and, frankly, who would want to spend their time in the potions lab on a sunday evening?

but, as the figure walked closer to you, you noticed it was harry dressed in pajama pants and a sweatshirt with his slippers scraping across the wooden floors. "harry," you breathed a sigh of relief, your hand resting on your chest. "you scared the piss out of me." you say with a laugh.

harry chuckles, and you notice he's carrying his invisibility robe in one hand, half of his arm disappearing beneath it. "sorry, figured there'd be no one in here," he says with a sleepy voice, setting the robe over his own chair, making it disappear as well.

you sigh, setting your head back in your hands and leaning your elbows on the table. "it's okay, i probably shouldn't be here anyways. this thing has me seeing red, and not in a good way." you complain. harry laughs again, making his way next to you and under the light. your stomach drops at how soft he looks, his hair messy, cheeks flushed, deep voice quietly chuckling as he leans on the table beside you.

"yeah, well, i couldn't sleep knowing it wasn't perfect as well," harry tells you, his eyes fixated on the device. "not that slughorn would notice either way, but…" he trails off, making you crack a smile and chuckle as well.

harry looks down at you, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. "i just know how much it means to you." he says.

you feel yourself blushing and quickly begin changing the subject. "w-well, i think i've got it most of the way there, it's just, um…" you say nervously, picking up the cylindrical vaporizer and examining it in your hands once again.

"just…?" harry provokes.

you let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head as you pass the device back and forth between your hands. "just…that, um, it still needs to be tested, i guess, to see the full effects, y'know?" you try to explain without stumbling over your thoughts.

harry understands what you mean and nods his head slowly. "oh, right…" he says a bit nervously as well, pushing himself off the table to stand up straight and clear his throat.

an awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment as you continue to roll the vaporizer between your fingers. "yeah…" you trail off once again.

harry nervously chuckles, breaking the silence and making you laugh at the sudden tension. "well, then, hand it over i guess." harry casually requests, holding his hand out to you.

you look up at harry in confusion, your eyebrows pinched together as you examine his lighthearted expression. "harry," you try to find your words, feeling yourself still blushing under his gaze. "are you mad? you can't just test this out randomly." you try to explain to him.

harry shakes his head, his own eyebrows pinching together as he lets out an amused laugh. "why not? it can't be that strong," he shrugs.

you give harry another incredulous look, utterly confused at his nonchalant attitude. "are you kidding? this potion is composed of some of the most potent aphrodisiacs in the world, and inhaling them should only intensify the effects…theoretically," you add the last part in a hopeful tone, turning your attention back to the device in your hands.

harry just extends his hand out further, nearly touching yours. "well, we'll never know if we don't test it, now will we?" he asks with a smirk. you hesitate for another moment, still looking down at your hands. of course you were insanely curious about the effects of the project you spent weeks sweating over, and certainly would feel better knowing it actually works as intended before having to present it to the class tomorrow. but you were worried it could affect harry negatively, or that he could have a bad reaction to it, and you weren't sure if you could take that risk.

"just trust me, [y/n]. i can handle it." harry reassures you once more, his voice warm and familiar.

you sigh, carefully handing over the device to harry and leaning back in your chair. he smiles at you, taking one more look at the design of the vaporizer in his hands before bringing the mouthpiece up to his lips and inhaling the mixture. harry holds his breath for a moment before blowing out the vapor slowly, the clouds surrounding him under the dim lighting in a way that makes your heart stop. he looks ethereal with the billowing vapor coming from his lips and nostrils, a soft smile pinching his cheeks.

"tastes amazing," harry observes, taking another look at the design as the vapor fades into the air.

you wait for a few seconds, looking for any sign of behavioral changes in harry as he continues to rotate the device in his fingers. "well?" you ask in a hopeful tone.

harry looks down at you, and for a split second, you swear his pupils expand to the size of his iris before shrinking back to their normal size, blinking rapidly as they do. harry sets the device down and looks away from you, his neck jerking to the side and his knuckles clenching.

"harry?" you ask, concerned, standing from your seat and reaching for harry's shoulder. before you can touch him he jerks away, making a frustrated groaning sound as he did. you're still concerned, but mostly confused as harry's hands reach for the edge of the table and grip it so hard his veins are pulsing. his breathing is ragged and heavy, nearly growling as he tries to steady it. you're momentarily distracted before harry attempts to speak to you.

"it works," he barks out, his voice strained and impatient. you're taken aback at his aggressive change in tone. "what?" you ask again, trying again to reach for his shoulder. "harry, are you okay?"

just as you make contact with his sweatshirt, harry's legs go limp beneath him as he sinks to his knees. his breathing gets heavier as he lets out a pained groan, trying his best to stand up and let go of the table for support. "just," he says between panting breaths. "i have to go," he abruptly turns and tries to leave, his hands grabbing at his hair and face as he stumbles away.

"harry," you call after him. "what's happening? are you okay? is it hurting you?" you try to get some insight on what harry's experiencing, but he keeps shaking his head as he tries to make his way to the door.

"harry!" you finally snap, stepping away from the table. harry stops in his tracks. "our presentation is in 6 hours and you said you could handle the effects. now, i need to know what they are or else i'm testing it out myself." you demand angrily, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

harry turns to you but doesn't dare look at you, his body hunched over as if he's in pain. his hands are still rubbing at his eyes and he seems to be wiping away sweat on his forehead every other second.

"look, [y/n]," harry snaps back. you're again taken aback by his tone; you've never heard his voice so dark and foreboding before, and the sound of him practically growling your name has your mind racing. "i told you it works, okay? isn't that what you wanted?" his words are rushed, as if he's still trying to leave when you have so many questions that need answered.

"i need to know specifics, harry. what does it feel like? was there any physical response? how strong is it? i mean, you really can't let me ask a few questions about something we've been working on for weeks?" you ask.

harry frustratedly walks towards you, his wide strides making you step back towards the table in anticipation. his fists are balled at his sides, his eyes still pointed at the ground. "you wanna know what it feels like?" his voice bellows in the empty classroom, causing you to jump and gasp. you didn't want any prefects to hear you two in the lab and then have to explain why harry was in such a state.

harry comes closer to you, backing you against the table as his eyes stay fixed downward. "you wanna know how i feel, [y/n]?" he asks again, his voice less angry and more impatient, feeling his hot breath fall across your skin. again, hearing him spit your name at you so aggressively only made your mind race faster. you could hardly speak, so you just nodded your head anxiously, still attempting to put more space between you and harry.

for a while only harry's heavy breathing fills the room. you can see his hands still clenched at his sides, nearly shaking from the amount of pressure they're under. just as you're about to turn your head away from the tense moment, harry's eyes meet yours. you gasp again, this time at just how dark they had become since first looking away from you.

harry smirks evilly at your shock, his hands quickly grasping the edge of the table behind you, bringing his body even closer to yours. you were feeling such a rush of every emotion possible it was hard to tell what exactly you were feeling; all you knew is you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs despite fear making your heart race.

"i feel like i could tear you apart." harry's words drip with venom, his body leaning further into yours. you let out a shaky breath, your feet still trying to back up despite the table stopping you. "and i feel like you would let me." harry teases, his smirk growing.

you let out an involuntary squeal as harry's face comes closer to yours, turning away to avoid his eyes. "h-harry–" you try to protest, but he turns your chin back to him before you can finish.

"wouldn't you?" harry asks with a knowing tone.

you try to turn away again but harry doesn't let you, instead only bringing your lips closer to his as his hand fixes itself around your jaw tightly. you struggle a bit in his grasp but he isn't letting you go.

"i see the way you watch me, pretty girl. you may be smart but you're not very clever." harry's lips barely graze yours as he talks, his breath overwhelming your senses as he continues to stare into your eyes. "you'd love for me to tell you all the filthy thoughts running through my head about you right now, wouldn't you, darling? want me to describe every scenario, every position, every sound that comes from these pretty lips?" harry's thumb raises from your chin to your bottom lip as he swipes it across the soft skin.

you're speechless at his blunt attitude, your legs shaking beneath you as you try your best to continue standing. your mind is a mess trying to understand his response. you knew the vapor would be powerful, but you had no idea harry would react like this. you weren't exactly complaining, it was just so out of character for him to be so suggestive and upfront with his desires, let alone his apparent desire for you.

you clear your throat, trying to gain the confidence to formulate an answer to his question. "h-harry, it's the vapor, y-you're not yourself," you try to explain, your voice getting caught. "just…just sit down a-and we can talk about the side effects."

harry's grip on your jaw tightens more, making you wince slightly.

harry pulls away from your face, his eyes still boring into yours hungrily. his glasses are slightly fogged from how close he was to you, but his blown pupils were still clearly visible. he's looking down at you, smirking, chuckling at your pained expression. "you never answered my questions, if i remember correctly."

you can hardly continue keeping eye contact with harry as you felt your cheeks completely flushed and heart racing beneath his grasp. you were trying to keep it together knowing he was under the effects of a powerful potion, but part of you has wanted this for so long it only feels right to let harry have what he seems to want as well. i mean, that's what friends are for, right?

still squirming under the weight of his body against yours, harry grows impatient as he lets his clothed erection just barely rub against your thigh, enough to get your attention. your eyes widen, and harry smiles in satisfaction, humming at your response. you let your body relax despite your thumping heartbeat and rapid breathing, feeling yourself lean into harry as well.

harry hums again with his eyes tracing over every part of your face like he's trying to memorize it. "hmm, that's what i thought. now, tell me, pretty girl," harry starts, his hand tilting your head up to face him more. "what do you want?"

his question left you speechless once again. you didn't expect harry to consider your feelings in the matter; not that it made any difference anyway, you've wanted him just as bad for a long time now. but you were conflicted, was harry actually attracted to you, or would the potion make him act this way towards anybody? would it be wrong of you to encourage his behavior knowing he was under the influence of a potion? did any of that even matter with harry's throbbing erection pressed against you?

rather than answering harry's question, you took a chance and reached for his shoulders to help steady yourself before pressing your lips against his. harry moans into your mouth at the feeling, his grip on your jaw loosening but still holding you in place. his other hand snakes around from the edge of the table to your ass, hungrily grabbing for it and making you gasp.

harry takes this chance to shove his tongue past your lips, pushing you back against the table once more. in one swift motion he lifts your ass onto the tabletop, sitting you down in front of him. both of his hands go to the hem of your shirt, which you help him take off quickly. his lips attached to your neck, his hands already wrapped around your waist, and you nervously watched the door behind harry to make sure no one catches you two.

you start pulling at harry's sweatshirt and he rips it off before you even have the chance to help him. his skin is hot to the touch, and his hair's becoming damp with sweat. "harry," you say shakily as he's leaving a bruise on the side of your neck with his teeth. "you're so warm,"

pulling away and admiring the fresh red mark he's left on you, harry has a slight smirk on his swollen lips, "you should feel my heart," he says with a chuckle, guiding one of your hands to his warm chest. you can immediately feel his racing heart just beneath your fingertips, beating at a pace that couldn't be healthy for him.

you try to protest, but harry just gives you another hungry but short kiss. "i'm fine, [y/n]. i'm better than fine. it's like every inhibition i've ever had is gone, and it feels amazing. i'm sorry if i've been a bit strong, but, if you could see what i'm thinking, you'd actually be a bit impressed with my restraint…" harry voice is softer this time, his hands finding their way to your back, fiddling with the clasps on your bra. his lips wander from your ear down to your shoulder, sending a chill down your spine.

once harry has your bra undone, he looks back at you for confirmation. you eagerly help him remove it from you, throwing it to the side as harry's eyes become fixated on your chest. "fucking hell, [y/n]." harry curses under his breath before his hands cup your boobs aggressively, making you whimper in response.

it doesn't take long before harry has to press his lips against the soft skin of your tits, with his teeth following not far behind. you instinctively bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sounds you can't hold back, but harry isn't having any of it. he gives you a stern look before grabbing your wrist and placing your hand in his messy hair. "let me hear you." he states, his voice dark and commanding once again.

once harry's lips and tongue find their way to your nipples, you can't help but start to melt in his hands. whiny moans, gasps, and occasional curses fall from your lips watching harry's eyes flutter close as he enjoys pleasing you. your fingers become entangled in his hair, holding him closer to your chest.

however, harry soon grows impatient again, and your filthy noises certainly didn't help him.

he pulls you down from the table, making sure you're able to stand before quickly turning you around and pressing his erection against your ass. you moan at the feeling and grind against him, making harry's grip on your waist tighten as he lets out his own strangled moan.

you help harry remove your pants as his come off as well. only left in your underwear, harry's arms wrap around you from behind, his fingers softly running across the wet fabric covering your pussy. "fuck," he breathes against your ear, his other arm wrapping across your chest and bringing you further into him. "i need you."

harry's desperate tone sends another shiver across your skin, your mind practically short circuiting at the thought of him wanting you so badly.

harry bends you over the table, his chest against your back as he leaves rushed kisses along the nape of your neck. the cold surface of the lab table makes you gasp, your nipples hardening at the sensation.

"now," harry says, leaving one more kiss just under your ear. "what i want you to do," he continues, reaching for your open notebook across the table as well as your pen. "is be a good potions student, and write down my symptoms." he tells you as he sets the notebook in front of you and hands you the pen. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

you're a bit confused and nearly about to protest when you feel harry's fingers hook under your panties and pull them down hastily. you try to look back at him, but a hand quickly grabs your hair from behind and forces you to look back at your notes. "follow the rules, darling." harry's deep voice instructs you with a hint of a threat behind his words.

harry's grip on your hair only makes your pussy throb more. you can feel his other hand resting on the back of your thigh, his fingers running along the wet folds of your pussy, humming to himself at the warm feeling. just as you're about to start writing, you can feel harry slowly pushing a finger inside of you. your moan is strained at the unfamiliar feeling, but harry's tight grip in your hair loosens as he begins to comfort you. "just relax and let me take care of it, baby."

if you weren't wet before you certainly were now. your knees were weakening beneath you, forcing you to lean into the table for more support. you relaxed your body and breathed evenly, trying to shift your focus to the notes in front of you instead. your handwriting is shaky and uneven, biting your lip in an attempt to distract yourself from the desperate feeling growing inside you.

"go on, tell me what you wrote." harry teases. you groan in protest but attempt to speak anyway. "r-rapid, heartbeat," you manage to say before you start writing the next symptom. "d–" you try to speak, but you gasp as harry introduces another finger into your aching pussy.

harry chuckles, tightening his grip in your hair. "hm?" he asks, waiting for you to continue. you try to hold back your moans as you look back down at your notes, your eyes attempting to focus on your writing. "d-dilated…pupils…" you trail off, your eyes rolling back as harry's fingers thrust deeper into you. you can hardly keep your moaning under control and harry's loving every second of it.

"lack of…inhibitions," you breathe out, your handwriting barely legible the more you write. harry deep chuckle from behind you only distracts you further. your stomach is tight and your legs can barely hold you up anymore as you feel your high begin to build. just as it does, harry removes his fingers and leaves you feeling empty.

before you can whine, harry lets go of his grip on your hair and instead grabs your shoulders, pulling you up from the table a bit. holding yourself up with your arms, harry separates your feet with his. you can feel the head of his cock grinding against your wetness from behind.

harry's fingers end up in your mouth, making you taste yourself as he forces your head back to look at him. his eyes are entirely dark, no longer the inviting shades of blue you're so accustomed to. his smirk is evil, and his hair is sticking to his forehead from the excessive sweating. "i want to watch you take me." harry's voice is darker than his eyes, a cold, demanding force that takes what it needs.

with his fingers still holding your mouth open, you let out a pained moan at the overwhelming feeling of harry's cock pushing inside of you. despite his aggressive demeanor, harry remains gentle with you, giving you time to adjust to the feeling and carefully watching your expression. his eyes are practically sparkling with lust watching you lose yourself in the feeling of being filled by his cock.

"fuck," harry curses under his breath again. his other hand grabs for your hips, his fingers digging into your skin like you're the only thing keeping him standing. "feel so good, darling." harry places a messy kiss on your forehead before he begins thrusting into you again, slowly, enjoying every second he's inside of you.

you're nearly crying out in pleasure and desperation with the pathetic sounds coming from you. you can hardly move against harry's grasp, not that you were complaining, but you just needed more or else you would go insane.

you attempt to push your hips back to make harry get the message, and the smirk on his face tells you he got it right away. once he starts thrusting into you quicker, your mind goes blank. you can feel the drool start to drip out of your mouth and over harry's fingers, even down to your chest and the table top. harry is groaning at the sight of you becoming such a mess for him.

"looks like you needed this more than i did, hm?" harry teases, his lips so close to your ear you can feel them. you nod eagerly, your hands reaching for his arm holding your mouth open. you grip onto his forearm for stability, your eyes rolling back into your head at the overwhelming pleasure. he takes his fingers out of your mouth and instead holds your throat tightly. you gasp for air and wipe the drool from your lips.

soon both of your moans fill the room, the air sweaty and the table creaking beneath you. the fear of someone hearing you or getting caught no longer concerns you, if anything it just thrills you even more.

harry then reaches for your notes and pen again. you try hold the pen as well as you could. "i have one more symptom i want you to add," harry says between heavy breaths, becoming worn out and even more sweaty. you whine, but nod your head as you attempt to line your writing up with the rest.

you feel harry bend you further over the table, his chest hot against your back as he continues pounding into you. it's challenging trying to keep your eyes open and focused when you're completely blissed out with harry groaning in your ear.

"obsession," he hisses, his grip on your throat tightening as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

you try to write out the word, but you can hardly keep your hands steady. your stomach feels tight, your heart starts beating even faster, and you can feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm.

harry chuckles at your pathetic attempt at writing, but moves the notebook away anyway. "good girl." he commends you.

it's enough to bring you over the edge, your mouth dropping open with nasty sounds and eyes rolling back once more. harry groans into your ear as your pussy tightens around him, his thrusting becoming sloppy and tired.

"please," he breathes out just as you start coming down. "please, baby, can i cum inside you, please, please, i need it," harry's practically begging you, as if he even needed to ask.

"cum inside me, harry, please,"

"fuck," he moans again, his voice broken and needy. he's still desperately chasing his high, his hands sliding around to your stomach to feel himself pounding into you. "you're all mine, [y/n], all fucking mine." he growls into your ear. you could nearly cum again hearing harry fall apart behind you.

with a few more stuttering thrusts, harry cums inside you with another broken moan, bending you over the table again as his hands try to catch himself. his cock still fully inside you, you can feel his chest rising and falling on your back as he tries to catch his breath.

harry quickly gets off of you, almost in a rush. you turn to him and see his eyes are wide, his pupils shrinking back to their normal size, his hair nearly soaked in sweat. he tries his best to cover himself up, eventually grabbing for his pajama pants to put them back on. you're a bit lost at his reaction, hoping he didn't regret his actions so quickly.

"u-uhm, [y/n], i'm…i'm, so sorry," harry apologizes, his voice genuine and scared. he's wiping the sweat from his face, barely able to look at you. "i-i didn't mean for it to, f-for me to, um…" he's stumbling over his words, the same nervous harry you were so used to.

you smirked, crossing your arms in front of your chest to cover yourself a bit as well. "what, you didn't mean to fuck me over our lab table?" you ask smugly. harry's cheeks are completely flushed but he's trying his best to hide that from you, his hands covering his face.

"stop." he simply says, his voice meek and quiet. you giggle to yourself and step closer to him, admiring how pretty his sweaty skin looks in the dim lighting.

"hey," you say to him, stopping only about a foot away, completely naked and still shaking a bit. you reach for harry's arm and tug at it, making him uncover his face. he still doesn't dare look at you. "look, it's okay. that potion was extremely powerful, and we didn't know what would happen. as long as you feel alright that's all that matters, yeah? and, y'know, we can still be friends, even if you regret it..." you add the last part quietly, your voice breaking a bit.

harry looks up at you with guilty eyes. he's a bit distracted by your bare skin, but he can't stop looking back into your eyes. "please, don't take this as regret," he says, his eyebrows raised sympathetically. "i-i just, that's not…" he sighs, frustrated, looking away from you again. "it wasn't supposed to happen that way, our first time. n-not that i've thought about it that much," harry nervously interrupts himself, making you giggle once more.

harry looks back at you, his eyes wandering down to your chest. "u-uhm, just, you…if we ever did, y'know…you'd just deserve so much better than that," he tries to explain himself while clearly flustered.

you laugh again. "harry, i clearly enjoyed myself just then, didn't i? i mean, i don't know how it could've been much better." you admit, still in a teasing tone.

harry reaches for your shirt on the floor and offers to help you put it on. as he does you notice his eyes lingering on your chest again. "yes, but, i would've at least liked for you to have a bed to be comfortable on…" he says, knocking his knuckles against the hard surface of the table.

you roll your eyes at harry and reach for your pants as well. "well, maybe we can plan better for next time." you say with a smirk as you slip them on. harry straightens up from grabbing his shirt and looks at you with wide eyes again. "next time?" he asks innocently. you swear you could take him again right then and there, but you hold yourself back. "yeah, next time. if you'd like that." you offer him.

harry gives you that same shy smile he always has, and can barely hold himself back as he steps towards you and gives you a soft kiss on your lips. it's different, not hungry or full of lust, but rather warm and comforting. he pulls away after a moment to look at you, admiring your face in the light. "i'd love to." he whispers to you.

after helping you pack your stuff and clean up the table, harry offers to walk you back to your room with the invisibility cloak. you accept his offer and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, covering you both and walking you out of the lab and down the hallway.

before he leaves you for the night, harry can't help but snag another kiss, still as soft and loving as before with his hand resting on your cheek. you giggle into his lips, laying your forehead on his. "goodnight, harry." you say to him, readjusting your bag with your notebooks. "goodnight, my love." he tells you, unwrapping you from the cloak and leaving you with a swish.

the next morning you two had barely slept, sitting in potions class with matching eye bags and flushed cheeks. you could hardly look at the side of the table you were just bent over last night, and noticed harry smirking anytime he turned his head that way as well. his hands were subtly bumping into yours, as well as his knees, trying anything to get your attention during the other presentations. you just gave him a look, but couldn't help smiling at his gestures.

when it was your turn to present, harry let you do most of the talking and admired how passionately you spoke about the process to create the device. slughorn was more than impressed with your skill and knowledge, and awarded you and harry with top marks for your vaporizer.

"would there be any way to test the device?" he had asked curiously, holding it between his hands and examining it. "no!" you nearly exclaimed, taking it from his hands before he could even try. slughorn gives you a surprised look, but harry pipes up from behind you. "it's entirely too powerful to just try it out casually, sir." he says.

slughorn's eyebrows pinch together. "how so?" he asks. you and harry exchange awkward looks, both blushing and chuckling to yourselves. harry takes the device from you and puts it in his own pocket.

"just trust me, sir."

tag list: @gorlsinmultifandoms @mymoonmeow @treacletartlett @lucasinclairsgf @stvrlavs @dinomdubs

(if you'd like to be tagged in my future fics, leave a comment or send me a message! if you like this please let me know, your comments make my day <3)

[sillystarr565]

what do you think little smilk’s age range is? he sounds really small from what you’ve said

I don’t think there’s like a specific age he regresses too personally,, esp after like one bajillion years of living an being immortal and all that it’s hard to narrow it down to som numbers (totally not projecting my own inability to know what range I go byy… not at all,,,) but!!! I made a little diagram thingy that hopefully shows my thoguhts (clic for better quality!!)

so sos so again I don’t feel like there’s like, just one specific range he reverts to, I’d imagine constantly getting older (with no end in sight it seems) he’ll be bound to slip into many various states n phases generally but there are three stages I thinks about real often (yap incoming,, under the cut to save some space :3)

I feel like he’d (on rare occasion) indulge himself in his old scriptures n notes an stuff during his time as the fount of knowledge, allowing himself to remember who he was and in a way embracing that initial truth he pushed himself away from in a more gentle way, reminiscing on more nicer memories and so on instead of playing the fool all the time..,, by doing that he’d kinda go in this half kinda regression? Like a mix between his playful jester-sona and Fount of Knowledge if that makes sense,, like getting excited again by his old works n kind of sparking that original passion he had for learning and sharing information n stuff, and wanting to ramble to his minions about it while keeping up that playfulness he’s grown to personify as a jester!

I mentioned this on the first little smc post I made ever in the tags that I dont know if he would know about his own regression or not, but his default or most common behaviour for me is like,, the low energy, unusually calm kind of one ya knoww? When he’s out of it he wouldn’t really be able to keep up that quirky silly energetic funny guy act I think!! He’s small and he can’t process that!! he’s just got a lot (or maybe nothing at all even) on his mind,, Like usually you’d just think at first glance someone who was like this was just tired or something n brush it off,, but it’s really odd when that person is shadow milk cookie?!!! anyway he’s lowww energy little guy,, he’d like to do his arts n crafts n stuff, though his artwork may be a bit sloppier than his usual standards,, but he’s small!! He don’t care he just want to draw fr! don’t really wanna talk lots,, short answers and huffs,,, and and I think he’d like reading too!! Reading is good he likes doing that n will read up on folklore n children’s literature especially.. fairytales…… rrhahahgg!!

And little!!! Little guy with the short hair on the right side umm,,m is kind a a self indulgent thing for myself I’ll be honest,, I jus really like drawin little very teeny tinys but!! I would like to imagine smc shapeshifting physically smaller when small after he realizing/understanding when this happens, and accepting that part of himself after a little while of denial and shame with Pv being there to help him along of course (don’t ever be ashamed! Of! Regresssing!!! Btw!! You’re healing and coping and that is wonderful!!!)

I think he’d start off doing it as like,, jus a way to get Pv’s attention lots more easily maybe if he’s in a more playful mood or something but Idk maybe he’d potentially just. Start doing it subconsciously if he does it enough times to get used to it

Anyway!!! That’s the end of my yap thank you for reading an if you didn’t that’s :p sorry if anything was confusing I have a bit of trouble explaining things

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey! So this isn't a particularly exciting ask or anything, but I'm sending it bc I literally do not know who irl I can talk to.

Basically, my boyfriend and I (both virgins) tried having sex for the first time tonight, and it pretty much didn't work. It was kind of horrible and awkward, which was expected, but really it just didn't get anywhere at all. First the condom broke when he tried to put it on, which freaked him out so he couldn't get hard again. And we didn't really know how to just /start/ so we tried just going for it, but he, like, couldn't get his dick into my vagina? Which I'm pretty sure is not a me thing because I've fingered myself before just fine.

Anyways, we kind of just called it quits after kissing for a while, and now I just don't really know what to make of the whole experience. I want to have sex but rn I'm not even really sure if I want to try again. It was just so mortifying and unfun. Do you have any advice whatsoever?

hi anon,

oh boy! here are a few crucial points that jump out to me:

if the condom is breaking just from trying to put it on, something is wrong. the condom might be too small, or it may have been expired (which can make it brittle), or it may have been stored in a space that was too hot or too cold and weakened the condom's integrity. your boyfriend's nails may have had sharp edges that damaged the condom. maybe he just did a spectacularly bad job putting it on! review the best way to put a condom on together for better results next time.

you boyfriend's penis being flaccid definitely wasn't helping to make penetration any easier! generally speaking, you're going to want the penis to be erect for that.

everyone has different preferences, of course, but it's often helpful to do literally anything else prior to putting something directly in the vagina. kissing, cuddling, touching each other's genitals with hands, mouths, or any other body part you desire, etc. particularly for vaginal penetration, giving yourself time is helpful: it gives the vagina time to lubricate as well as for the process of tenting, during which the cervix and uterus draw back to create more space in the vaginal canal. much in the same way that you (probably) can't just stick a finger into your vagina without any warning or lube and have an enjoyable sexual experience, you need time to get ready with a partner.

having said all of that: this was your first time doing this. very few people are great at things on their first try. the first time I tried rollerskating outside I fell over a million mortifying times where all my neighbors could see. the first time I tried to cook chicken flautas I accidentally smoked up my kitchen so badly that my housemates and I had to temporarily evacuate our home while it aired out. the only way you learn how to do things is by fucking them up a few times. that's the most normal thing in the entire world.

try again or wait a while, whatever you prefer, but know that you're not missing out on some secret hack to have Perfect Cool Guy Sex that everyone knows but you. the way that good sex happens, which to me just means mutually enjoyable and comfortable sex, is by understanding that sex is a fundamentally messy and silly endeavor and finding someone with whom you can laugh through the dumb shit.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FOUR

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 9.7k notes: mama a MASTERLIST behind you 💜 lots of filler content but it's kinda pivotal ig 😛 hope you're all enjoying, reading all of your comments makes my day 🫶

‘South Carolina Basketball Star Apologizes for Destruction Tour'

After a month of out of control behavior, Tess Kennedy has officially put an end to her destruction tour. In a heartfelt message on her socials, Kennedy apologizes to her team, coaches and staff, and basketball fans and she opens up about how her ACL injury “flipped [her] world upside down.”

“My injury forced me to consider a future where I could not play basketball,” Kennedy writes. “I moved to the States at a young age and basketball was the one thing that made me feel at home here. Believing that I’d lost basketball made me feel like I’d lost the one place I belonged. My thoughts were, ‘if I can’t play, then what’s the point?’”

Many fans responded well to Kennedy’s apology, understanding the guard’s feeling of homelessness. Many others appreciate the candor. One commenter noted that athletes don’t tend to discuss the darker parts of the ACL injury, claiming that this transparency is paramount in making mental health resources more accessible and more normalized for athletes. There are others who are firm in their belief that Kennedy’s reaction was unacceptable. Supporters rallied in defense for Kennedy.

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: USER THOMASBLINKY39: “GOOD ATTEMPT AT SAVING FACE. YOU OVERREACTED AND LET DOWN MANY, ESPECIALLY YOUNG GIRLS WHO LOOK UP TO YOU. TELL YOUR PR MANAGERS TO WRITE A BETTER APOLOGY NEXT TIME.” | USER TESSKENNEDYUPDATES: “IT’S THE SAME WITH YOU PEOPLE, ISN’T IT? A MAN IS ALLOWED TO REACT. A WOMAN CAN ONLY OVERREACT. DON’T PRETEND TO UNDERSTAND WHAT TESS IS GOING THROUGH. ALL YOUR COMMENT DOES IS SHOW THE YOUNG GIRLS YOU PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT THAT THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FEEL AND FALL APART WHEN THEY’RE HURT. TESS SHOWS THEM THAT THEY CAN COME BACK EVEN STRONGER.” END TRANSCRIPTION.]

Reactions aside, one thing is for certain. Tess Kennedy is fully on the road to recovery and things are looking up for her.

“I’m connected with great physical therapists to rehab my knee and I am meeting with a psychologist to address my mental health and alcohol dependence,” Kennedy shares. “I am thankful for my friends, family, and support system. They were patient and loved me when I couldn’t love myself. This process hasn’t been pretty and it won’t look pretty for a while – but I owe it to myself to do what I need to so I can play the game I love again. This is a new opportunity to compete, only I’m against myself this time, and the one promise I can make is that I don’t lose to the same opponent twice.”

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 9, 2023

Tess’s alarm wakes her on Tuesday morning. It takes her a moment to blink the sleep out of her eyes, still feeling the residual exhaustion from accidentally staying up later than she’d been accustomed to the past week. It’s only 8am, but she can hear Kamilla and Bree milling about in the kitchen, presumably making breakfast, quietly laughing over the gentle hum of whatever music they have playing. Tess hauls herself out of bed, stretching the ache out of her body and making her way into the bathroom.

Tess was never usually one for sleeping in. It was a hard habit to break after years of being up bright and early to go on morning runs and hit the gym. She fell off of that part in her routine after her surgery, and although she can’t exactly do much running or lifting currently, trying to repair her sleep schedule and other routines helps bring back some normalcy in her life. So far, it was working pretty well, though it’s been a struggle to figure out what to do with her time on the days she doesn’t have PT in the morning.

As she brushes her teeth in the bathroom, she’s distracted by thoughts of the upcoming 12 hour drive she’ll have to power through. It was her only choice – she wasn’t cleared for air travel just yet, so it’s an unfortunate fact of life she’ll just have to deal with. She’s less stoked about the long conversation she’ll have to have with her parents. Between PT and her other obligations, Tess hasn’t really had the time to truly sit down and give her parents the closure they deserved. They’d texted and called numerous times; Tess felt terrible for ignoring most of it, but she just couldn’t stomach their worry and disappointment. She couldn’t stomach her own shortcomings, either, nor the fact that she let it get so bad and that she iced out the people who have been in her corner since day one. The more she thinks about how she ghosted her own parents and let them watch her crash and burn through gossip articles and online videos, the more she feels like she’s going to throw up.

She can’t avoid it forever, though. Not when there’s nothing between her and her parents besides their car’s center console and 715 miles of open road.

Tess rinses her mouth out, splashing water on her face, reaching for her cleanser and moisturizer. When she begins applying her skincare, it’s the first good look she gets of her face all morning. She stares at herself for a long moment. The bags under her eyes are fading and her cheeks finally have their fullness back. She feels okay – she really does, which she thinks is a weird feeling to celebrate, but she’s celebrating it regardless, knowing she’s felt anything but okay in the past month. The one feature, however, that almost brings a smile to her face is the subtle shine in her eyes, the flash of life that has otherwise been missing.

She looks good. She feels good. That much is enough to improve her mood. She ventures out into the kitchen, grinning at Kamilla and Bree who look up with matching smiles as they work. Kamilla is flipping something in a pan at the stove while Bree chops veggies. “Hey, guys. Need a hand?”

Kamilla shakes her head, waving the spatula at her in a way that reminds Tess of her nonna. “Nuh-uh. Sit. You want an omelette?”

Knowing better than to test Kamilla, Tess slides into a stool, careful of her knee. “Yes please.”

Kamilla hums, cracking a few more eggs into a bowl, adding milk, and whisking them together. “We didn’t wake you or anything, right?” Bree asks, dumping some peppers and onions into Kamilla’s bowl. Bree lowers the volume on their music just slightly so she can hear Tess’s response.

“Nah,” she reassures her. “I had an alarm set. My parents should be here around noon.”

Kamilla turns on her heel suddenly. “Oh, speaking of, you got a package like, twenty minutes ago. It’s by the door. What the hell did you buy? It was heavy as shit.”

Tess can’t help the flush that covers her cheeks, though she doesn’t understand why Kamilla’s question makes her feel as though she’s been caught red-handed. “Uh, I might have bought a PS5,” she admits, and Bree snorts. Tess shoots her an indignant look. “My therapist says I need new hobbies. Turns out I had zero personality outside of basketball, so I’m trying to find out what else I like.”

“Besides a certain blonde hooper, of course,” Bree says, straight-faced and deadpan. Kamilla nudges her with her elbow and they both break out into giggles.

Tess narrows her eyes. “You guys aren’t funny. We are literally just friends.”

“Well, you said y’all was strictly business last week, so which is it?” Bree teases. “I saw those photos of y’all at the airport, too. You looked heartbroken –”

“Stop,” Tess whines, burying her face in her hands. “It’s just for the media.”

“Cheer up, T,” Kamilla says comfortingly. Tess looks up to watch as Kamilla dumps the omelette onto a plate, sliding it her way with a fork. “Bree’s just jealous. The football player she’s been plottin’ on for months has a girlfriend back home, so she’s sad.”

Bree gasps, shooting her a scandalized look. “First of all, I wasn’t plotting on Shawn. I was just testing the waters, and the waters say football players are not husband material. Second of all –” Bree redirects her attention to Tess, whose fork hovers halfway to her mouth as she stares at her teammate, “–Tess is the worst actress I’ve ever seen in my life. Remember that time we tried to plan a surprise party for Aliyah and Tess couldn’t stop grinning the entire day?”

“That’s different!” Tess interrupts, the egg falling off of her fork. She groans as she scoops it up again. “I can’t lie to my friends. But I can lie to the media.”

“No the hell you can’t!” Bree retorts. “You can’t control your face. That’s why you trend on Twitter after pressers because half of the country turns you into a meme.”

Tess’s face falls. “Wait, they do that?”

Bree points at her as Kamilla snorts. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Anyways!” She claps her hands, gathering her thoughts. “You can’t control your face. You are the worst liar I’ve ever met. Which is why I know that look on your face at the airport was real. You aren’t lying to the media – you’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. You fuck with Paige, whether you’ve realized that or not.”

Tess’s face burns red as her thoughts race. “What are you, my therapist? I don’t fuck with Paige, whatever the hell you mean by that.” Bree narrows her eyes at her, and Tess has to look away. “Christ,” Tess mutters, fingers pressing into her temple. “Look, me and Paige are just friends. I’m just a mess emotionally with everything going on and she’s like, the only person I’ve hung out with that’s not you two.”

Kamilla nudges Bree with her elbow, drawing her attention as she breaks her silence. “Maybe we don’t need to grill her on this now,” she suggests, but her tone of voice leads Tess to believe that it’s more of a demand. “She’s going through a lot. Let her friendships just be friendships.” Tess shoots her a grateful look as Bree sighs, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Bree says after a while. “I know you – you’re my girl, Tess. You’re not good at lying, or keeping secrets, or pretending, or doing anything casual. You’re real, maybe blunt to a fault, and you always give everything your all. I just want you to be careful. Blurring those lines with Paige can make things really complicated and you need to focus on recovery – not her.”

Tess frowns, pushing around the egg on her plate. She suddenly doesn’t feel hungry anymore. The anxiety creeps up into her chest, kickstarting her heart, and she has to breathe through the what-ifs and the slight panic that comes with questioning everything you’ve known for the past week. “I know you mean well, Bree, but I’m good,” Tess states once she gathered her thoughts. She gives her two teammates a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and judging by the way Bree deflates, she knows that she knows she’s soured the mood. “Trust. I’m not going to fall for Paige and I’m not going to blur those lines. We’re just friends who have to make the best of a weird situation because we fucked up our reputations. Nothing more.”

Bree stares at her long and hard, as if she doesn’t believe her. Tess doesn’t believe herself, either, but she has all the time in the world to start convincing herself that she’s just fine with her situation and there’s nothing to read into. “If you’re sure,” is what Bree says instead.

Tess can only give a half-hearted nod, suddenly feeling a lot less sure.

Her parents arrive shortly after noon as expected. She moved all of her packed belongings to the living room, anticipating their arrival, and she’d nearly teleported to the door once she heard the knock. Kamilla and Bree made themselves scarce after their uncomfortable conversation after breakfast. Tess isn’t sure if it’s because they knew that she needed time alone with her parents or because they were regretting bringing up the Paige situation at all. Maybe it was a mix of both, but Tess remembers she has other things to worry about as she opens the door to her apartment, coming face to face with her parents.

Her mother and her father, Alessandra and Mateo, stand just a few inches taller than she does with her father tallest of their trio. When she was younger, she used to hate that she stopped growing at 5’10 when her parents were 6’0 and 6’3 respectively. It used to make her feel small, like she wasn’t meeting her potential. Now, after everything she’s been through, she falls directly into their open arms and it feels like coming home all over again. They wrap her up tightly, engulfing her completely, and she finds that she has a newfound respect for being the shortest of them.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels her tears soak her mother’s blouse and her mother starts smoothing the hair at the crown of her head. The gentle touch is enough for the dam to finally break. Tess shudders through heaving sobs as her parents hold her tighter, whispering pleasantries in murmured Italian that only makes her wish she’d never shut them out. She wishes she asked them to come down for her surgery, that she asked them to take her home after the fact. She wishes she was cognizant enough to have asked for their help before she let everything consume her. It’s too late for ill-timed wishes, although there’s still plenty of time for her to make up for her misgivings.

Her parents let her cry until there’s nothing left, and only then do they pull away. Her mother wipes away the residual tear tracks on her cheeks with her thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as her father stares at her with a look that mirrors both his concern and his love for her. She stares back at him, at her mother, at the two people who have dropped nearly everything to support her and her dreams. They let her have her way when she couldn’t bear to see anyone after her surgery, they let her have her way when she wanted to move several hundred miles down south for basketball because she believed in what Coach Staley was preaching. Tess feels so much remorse and grief and love constrict around her heart and she can’t stop herself when she rushes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I–”

“You have nothing to apologize for, piccola,” her father says, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, but his understanding does nothing to quell the guilt.

“Yes I do,” she chokes out, eyes wide as she stares at the both of them, fresh tears beading at her waterline. “I got hurt and I pushed you guys away and I almost killed myself. I spiraled for a month straight and said awful things and almost ruined my knee for good. People tried so hard to help me and I didn’t let them.”

Her mother squeezes her hand, smiling softly at her. “We are your parents. You do not need to do anything to earn our forgiveness. You have it. Unconditionally.”

Tess’s lip trembles. She tries to fight the tears. “That’s not how that works,” she says weakly. 

“Some things don’t have to work any certain way,” her father says. “Sometimes they just are. We’re proud of you, Tess.”

Growing up, people always said that Tess was a mix of her parents. She had her mother’s coiled, dark brown hair, her laugh, her nose, her sarcasm. She had her father’s eyes, his smile, his heart, his drive. Now, she’s beginning to realize that the trait her parents share – their ability to forgive – hasn’t quite reached her just yet.

“You don’t need forgiveness from other people,” her mother says, halting her racing thoughts. “You just need to forgive yourself, sweet girl. Learn from this, bounce back and recover, but you cannot do any of that if you hold the blame close to your heart.”

“I’m trying,” Tess confesses.

Several thoughts swim in her brain. She hears it all. Trying isn’t enough. Try harder. Why did you let it get this bad in the first place? It takes her far too long to realize the voice is her own. Her parents would never say any of that to her. But what they do say instead is, “Sometimes trying is all you can do,” and that’s enough to make her bottom lip wobble again. She launches herself back into their arms as her father continues, “We know you can heal from this. We know it’s hard. But you need to believe in yourself and try.”

The words get stuck in her throat as she tries to breathe through the pounding in her chest. All she can manage is a nod, but they understand her – they always do. Her parents hold her until she comes back to earth, her mother flashing a familiar smile at her. “Are you ready to go?”

Tess nods again, wiping her cheeks again. “Yeah. Just let me say bye to Kam and Bree first.”

Her parents nod, picking up her suitcase, her backpack, and her Amazon box by the door. They exit her apartment with her belongings in tow as Tess makes her way to Bree’s door first, knocking on it gently and waiting for her to open it.

When Bree does, she opens her arms immediately and Tess falls into her embrace. “Have a safe drive, okay?” Bree says, squeezing her. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” Tess promises, pulling away.

“Listen,” Bree says. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t be in your business like that.”

Tess shakes her head. “It’s okay. I know where you’re coming from. Thank you for looking out for me. Just trust that I can look out for myself, too?”

“Done,” she agrees, and she sweeps Tess into one last hug before saying her goodbyes and venturing back into her room.

Kamilla’s room is her final stop. She doesn’t even have to knock before Kamilla opens the door and wraps her arms around Tess. “Don’t miss me too much,” Tess says jokingly, and Kamilla laughs, her chin resting on Tess’s head.

“Too late,” her best friend states. “Come home, Tess Kennedy. The kids miss you.”

Tess grins, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, Kam. I gotta go my own way.”

Kamilla pulls away but smiles fondly at Tess. “Text me when you’re home safe. I don’t care how late it is.”

“I will,” she promises again. Kamilla wraps her up one more time, saying goodbye, and returning to her room.

When Tess makes it back to the living room, her parents are back and empty handed. Tess smiles at them, slipping her crutches under her arms, and together, the three of them begin the 12 hour journey back to Brooklyn.

The first few hours of the drive are dedicated to the much needed conversation with her parents. Tess recaps the last few weeks to her them, explaining her thought process, the loneliness, the near constant knee pain. It’s all smooth sailing until she reaches last week’s events and the meeting with Amaya. She honestly has all intentions of leaving out the Paige situation, not wanting to lie to her parents because she and Paige agreed they wouldn’t tell anyone. If there was one thing Bree was right about, it was the fact that Tess was a shitty liar, and she would prefer to avoid the situation as a whole.

“So what about that blonde guard you’ve been hanging out with?” her dad asks innocently, completely ruining her entire plan.

Fuck. So much for that.

“Um,” she says smartly, a blush rising on her cheeks. Her dad glances up, meeting her eyes in the rear-view mirror, and his lips twitch into a smirk. “We’re taking things slow right now,” she says slowly. “Paige reached out after I tore my ACL and offered her condolences. I didn’t really want to accept help from anyone, but she flew out and surprised me after my meeting with Amaya, and, I don’t know, but it was really nice.”

“Do you like her?” her mother asks.

“Mamma,” she groans, exasperated. Her mom levels her with a look that makes her insides crumble. She remembers that her and Paige aren’t even publicly official, so what’s the harm in downplaying it? “I mean, she gets it, you know?” She gets me, is the clarification that goes unsaid, but Tess gets the idea that her parents understand her meaning just the same. “We play on different teams. I didn’t, um, want to let her get close,” she says tactfully, feeling as the words hit a little too close to home. “But I couldn’t stop it. I like being her friend and talking to her. That’s good enough for me for now.”

Her parents share a look in the front seat. Tess is sweating bullets in the back, trying desperately to distract herself by flipping her phone mindlessly in her hand. Truth be told, she’s not even sure where the truth ends and the lie begins. This whole situation is so messy, she thinks to herself, only snapping out of her thoughts when her mother speaks up. “Well, you sound happy,” she says, which genuinely surprises Tess. Another thing Bree was right about. She cannot control her expressions. “She may be good for you, piccola.”

Tess swallows thickly, craning her head to stare out the window. The trees on the side of the interstate pass by in a blur. She finds them much more interesting to look at now. “I hope so,” Tess says, the words coming to her easily.

Thankfully, her mother cranks up the AC and adjusts in her seat, aiming to take a power nap before she swaps places with Tess’s father to finish out the drive. Her father glances at her once more through the rear view, a knowing smile on his face, which unsettles Tess more than she’d like to admit, but the underlying softness in his eyes makes it hard to be too worried. Releasing a deep breath, she pulls her own blanket over her legs, pops her earbuds in, and leans against the car door as she closes her eyes, hoping to speed the drive along by sleeping through it. They still had another 10 hours to go, and Tess will be close to losing it if she has to talk about Paige for any longer.

The rest of their drive passes in relative peace. Tess crashes for a few hours and wakes up in time to order dinner from a drive-thru. Her parents switch driving duty an hour later at the closest rest stop and Tess takes the time to get out of the car to stretch her leg and use the bathroom. She stocks up on a couple of overpriced vending machine snacks, and before she knows it, they’re back on the road again.

She tries to nap again, but after the three hour snooze she took, she feels more restless than anything. Combined with being in the car for six hours, she’s ready to start running laps, knee be damned. She’s running out of playlists to listen to and she can only play Subway Surfers for so long before she starts getting exhausted of it. As if she senses her turmoil, a text from Paige comes through, and Tess can almost cry with relief, knowing that the blonde will have something stupid to say that will distract her.

Are you alive?

barely the longer we drive the more i wish i took a plane there’s got to be a donor somewhere out there who can give me their knee

So I don’t think that’s actually how that works!

so i don’t think you’re qualified to say that!

I am The ladies call me Dr. Bueckers Okay that was actually worded really bad

“the ladies” huh

Please don’t make this a thing I regretted it as soon as I sent it

every day i wonder how and why girls throw themselves at you you literally can’t flirt for shit you just annoy people and say the stupidest things so confidently

Well you’re still talking to me I think it works

my choices right now are entertaining you or staring out the window for another six hours

This is progress cause a week ago you would have said you’d prefer to stare out the window Tess Kennedy MIGHT like me 🤩

paige bueckers MIGHT be delusional 🤩

The line between delusion and manifestation is thin but I get what I want so just keep on hating

ok bars ur still delusional though

One day I’ll get you to admit it I’ve grown on you

much like a fungus

You think I’m a fun guy!

[8 Ball]

Don’t deflect

are you chicken?

Okay I see how it is

Tess and Paige probably set the record for the most pool games played in one sitting, which is surprising for two reasons. The first being the fact that Paige apparently had nothing going on for six hours, the second being the fact that Paige actually sat and played pool with Tess for six hours. Tess’s eyes had started drooping around 11:30 pm, but she and Paige were tied in how many wins they had (318 each – they kept track in a shared note), so she kept pushing through, even though her eyes burned and she wanted to crash. When Tess claims victory 319, Paige almost loses it.

You’re actually cheating

how tf am i cheating at 8 ball?

You seem like the type to take a screenshot and use the ruler

i’ll have you know i’m a woman of honor and integrity you’re just ass

You say the nicest things Okay one last round and I need to go to bed You’re almost home right?

we have like 20 more min yeah

Lock in

Tess, in fact, does not lock in. Six hours of pool is probably detrimental to her eyesight, so she cuts her losses and accepts one final draw between her and Paige. 319 each is good enough for her – especially with the time inching closer and closer to midnight and the fact she’ll likely see the pool table in her sleep.

Rematch tomorrow?

i don’t think i can ever play 8 ball again it will be too soon when my therapist said to find a new hobby i don’t think this is what she meant

You’re welcome!

i did not say thank you

You didn’t have to But you’re welcome for spending 6 hours on 8 ball with you

thank you

Oh my God that sounded genuine

and you just killed the moment

We were having a moment? 🤭

ok goodnight don’t text me again

You’ll miss me Lemme know when you’re home for real I’ll stay up

you don’t have to

So notice how that wasn’t the request

fine i'll let you know

Paige simply reacts to her message with a heart, and with a soft smile, Tess shuts her phone off and finally gives it a rest after six hours of non-stop use. Her screen time was probably off the charts, but that’s a problem for another time.

The last fifteen minutes of the drive passes by quickly and before she knows it, her mom is pulling into the driveway of their house. Tess could cry in relief, though whether it’s from lingering homesickness or the need to get out of the car, she doesn’t know. Her mother shakes her father awake and together, the two of them grab Tess’s bags from the back while she slips her crutches under her arms as they make their way into the house.

Tess hardly has the time to soak it all in. The last time she was home was during spring break, but right now, her main concern is hauling her ass to bed and passing out. Her parents carefully deposit her belongings on the floor in her room. Sharing one last hug for the night and exhausted goodnights, her parents leave her be and Tess all but collapses into bed. She adjusts the pillow under her knee, plugs in her phone, and opens her messages with Paige.

i'm home

Paige’s response is near instantaneous. Tess wonders if she was hovering, patiently waiting for her message before she let sleep consume her. Tess doesn’t dwell on it, not liking the way the thought made her chest tighten.

Thank you Night ma 🫶

Tess bids her goodnight, too, and she shuts her phone off, placing it on the bedside table. She stares at the ceiling, wondering why Paige’s message leaves an almost foreign stirring feeling in her stomach. But as her eyes slip shut, she determines she’ll just have to deal with it at another time, and she lets sleep finally take her.

MAY 11, 2023 - JUNE 20, 2023

The next month of Tess’s life passes in a blur of PT, weekly therapy appointments, mentoring from various Liberty members (although that was unplanned for), movie nights with her parents, and truthfully far too much Fortnite with Paige. She had her first PT appointment with Theresa, or Terri as she’d insisted Tess call her, on May 11th. As her appointment was in between the Liberty’s first two preseason matches, Tess saw a lot more of the Liberty players than she was expecting to. Stewie is taller than her Wikipedia led Tess to believe and Betnijah was even prettier in person. They all expressed their condolences as they filtered in and out for last minute screenings and check ups, and Tess couldn’t quite lose her stupefied awe no matter how many pros she talked to. She even got a follow back from Stewie, who joked that she was “alright for a Gamecock.” 

Tess genuinely felt like she won the lottery. She couldn’t believe Sabrina had reached out for her or that it was even this easy in the first place, though she probably has to give more credit to the Liberty front office for granting their permission and monopolizing on the opportunity. So far, it’s been pretty mutualistic — Tess works with Terri, learns from seasoned veterans, cleans up her image a little more, and honestly increases her draft stock through league exposure; in turn, the Liberty monopolizes on Tess’s branding and status as a college athlete, aiding in growing the scene. There’s a lot of viewers out there who tune in solely for college athletics. The Liberty have already reported an increase in traffic on their websites and even some ticket sales, which Tess is honestly surprised by. She still has another year minimum in college; the fact that people are tuning in for her (when she isn’t even in the league yet) and the fact that she’s helping grow the WNBA simply by hanging out with the Liberty and rehabbing her knee is insane. 

That was something Paige had teased her relentlessly about when they both found the time to FaceTime that Friday. Paige’s flight back to Minnesota was delayed a few hours, so she spent most of Thursday at the airport. She and Tess were supposed to chat after she landed, but the blonde went straight to bed once she made it home. 

“With the 1st pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the New York Liberty select—”

“Okay, you’re not funny,” Tess gripes, narrowing her eyes at Paige, who can’t control her laughter from across the screen. Tess is in the middle of setting up her Playstation account, trying — and failing — to remember where most of the buttons are on the controller. Paige already has Fortnite loaded up on her screen and tries her best to help Tess with the logistics, but she keeps getting sidetracked. “The Liberty won’t have first pick for a hot minute. And you’d think they’d take me over Caitlin?”

“Stop talking about other women!” Paige cries. “Am I not enough for you or what?”

“You are so easy to mess with, it’s unreal,” Tess states. She leans in closer to her screen. “What the hell is L1?”

“Top button on the left,” Paige supplies. “The one on the back is the trigger, L2.”

Tess sighs, pressing the button and finishing up some of her customization as she navigates her way to the console store to download Fortnite. “Nerd,” she says under her breath, but the indignant gasp from Paige is the only reaction she needs. “Honestly,” she begins, hesitating slightly. “I might not declare in 2024.”

“What?” Paige blurts. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting ball. An angel just lost its wings.”

“Not like that!” Tess rushes to say. She stares at the download bar as it fills up, not looking at Paige. “I was talking to Sabrina this morning — chill, she is grown and she has a man —” her words do nothing to quell Paige’s dramatic huff, “and she suggested I use my redshirt eligibility and take an extra year. I mean, I’ll be back in time for March Madness and can play a few games with the new redshirting rules, though I’m honestly not feeling confident in returning from an injury, taking on high level play with little to no practice, then declaring for the draft fresh off of recovery. I’m not, like, worried about my ability, but from a purely logistical standpoint, no team would willingly want to draft me in this condition, right? It wouldn’t be safe. I wouldn't be a reliable pick. I feel like it would be good for me to stay, get back into it, and declare when I’m actually at my best.”

Paige is quiet for a moment, and when Tess glances down at her phone, she can see that Paige is deep in thought. When she finally responds, her voice is soft. “I know what you mean. I think you should,” she says. “Stay, I mean. I don’t think I’m declaring in 2024, either.”

Tess smiles knowingly at her. “Oh, you just wanna keep getting dunked on by me, huh?”

Paige rolls her eyes, but grins at her. “You’re 5’10. Only way you’re dunking is if they lower the rims.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“You started it!” They dissolve into laughter. Tess’s download finally finishes and she opens Fortnite. “I’m serious, though,” Paige continues thoughtfully. “I’ve missed so many games due to injuries. I want a healthy offseason. A healthy season in general. A natty.”

“I always forget you barely have two seasons worth of games played,” Tess admits. “Your stats are kinda crazy.”

Paige smiles smugly. “Super efficient, I know. Don’t get too jealous.”

Tess scoffs. “Every time I say something nice, I immediately regret it. You can never just say thank you, can you?”

“Thank you, Tess Kennedy, I can’t wait until we play each other in 2025 and I stat pad my 3-point percentages 'cause you can’t guard me,” Paige declares confidently. 

Tess’s jaw falls open. “I’m more likely to go #1 in the draft than you are to score on me,” she states. Paige raises a brow, as if to say really? and Tess rolls her eyes with an amused smile. “Okay, friend me or something. I don’t know how this works.”

“What’s your Playstation name?”

“tkennedy25.”

“Super original,” Paige says dryly, but quickly enough, she gets a friend request from pboogers1. “Don’t ask.” Tess accepts it with a wry smirk, as well as the party invitation. She watches as Paige’s character spawns on her screen, fully decked out. Tess’s character honestly looks like a loser next to hers, though it’s probably because her starting character is a man. “Where’s your drip at?”

“I don’t know,” Tess whines. “Why am I a man?”

“You gotta play more to get skins,” Paige supplies unhelpfully. “Are you ready to spend the next month playing Fortnite?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope! Ready up!”

Tess does just that. Her first few games are frustrating. She’s still getting accustomed to the button layout and the building in the game sucks, but Paige has endless patience (somehow) and Tess finds herself having more and more fun as Paige tries to guide her through it. She spends a fair bit of time begging for Paige to revive her (fall damage is not a fun concept) and even more time yelling that she’s getting shot at. They’re halfway through a match and making their way into the zone when they come across another duo.

“Flank them!”

“What the fuck does that even mean?!” Tess cries, trying to aim and shoot. Multitasking has never been so difficult.

“I’m at the top of the key,” Paige says. “Go to one of the wings.”

“What do you – ohhhhh.” Tess does as instructed and with both her and Paige firing, the other players are quickly taken down, leaving their loot. “Wait. Why was that actually a good call?”

“There may be hope for you yet, ma,” Paige says, placing a hand over her heart like she’s swooning, and it’s enough to make Tess crack a smile despite the flush on her cheeks.

When they take the win at the end of the round, Tess isn’t sure who’s more surprised – her or Paige. Tess drops her controller on her bed as she cheers – loudly – and Paige buries her head in her hands. If her knee was in better shape, she’s certain she’d be taking victory laps by now.

“I can’t believe you stole my fucking kill,” Paige says in near disbelief. “I did so much damage–”

“Oh, my God!” Tess screams, not processing any of Paige’s words. “We won! Did you see that?” she asks excitedly, barely hearing Paige’s initial response. She digs around in her blankets to locate her phone. When she finally fishes it out, Paige is already gazing at her through the screen, face and smile softening as she takes in Tess’s excitement.

“I did,” Paige confirms. Tess finally keys in on her stupid grin and she feels the flush travel the length of her body.

“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Paige exclaims, and her grin widens. “Just proud, s’all. You went from not knowin’ where X was to gunning people down.”

“We make a good team,” Tess says nonchalantly, but, fuck, Bree is always right – she can’t keep the dumb expression off her face. Her eyes are bright with elation, with the satisfaction that comes with finally understanding something. Paige’s raw honesty and the simple ‘Just proud’ means something different coming from her, even if her pride stems from Tess sucking just a little less at a video game.

Paige’s smile turns tender, and instead of a witty remark, her voice is soft when she admits, “Yeah, we do,” and it makes the warmth creep onto Tess’s cheeks once more. “Couple more?” she asks hopefully. “I got nothin’ but time.”

And that’s how they spend the rest of their day, learning more and more about each other in between game queues and early game rotations. Tess eventually has to get off to save her eyesight and do some PT, but it’s hard to get rid of her smile even after she shuts off the console and she and Paige hang up. When she ventures out of her room for dinner, Tess tries her best to ignore her parents’ knowing smiles. The look in their eyes explains more than their words ever could, and briefly, as she’s layering salad on her plate, Tess thinks of a future where everything is less complicated, where she and Paige don’t have to put a fake label to something they’re not.

But that thought sounds suspiciously like something Tess isn’t ready to face, so she wipes it from her brain and drizzles the balsamic over her salad.

On Saturday, Paige introduces her to Drew. He’s off school for the weekend and Paige asked if she’d be interested in running trios with him. Tess honestly couldn’t think of a world where she’d say no to that, to learning more about who Paige Bueckers is outside of basketball and being a charming mix of annoying and unbelievably sweet. Looks aside, Tess would have assumed that Paige and Drew were fully blood related the way their mannerisms were exactly the same, all the way down to their sassy, “Alright now,” that never failed to make her laugh. Drew tells her all about how his classes are going and how he’s going to be better than Paige at basketball one day. Tess is pretty sure she and Drew become best friends when she tells him, “I think you’re already better than her,” and Paige gasps so indignantly that she almost chokes.

Tess is an only child, but with the speed at which she and Drew bond, she thinks he might become an honorary brother. She’s so focused on Drew that she misses the look of complete adoration on Paige’s face, the tender curve of her smile. She only registers something is off because Paige is unnaturally quiet – which never happens because Paige has a near inability to shut up. It was something Tess had to convince herself was annoying, but now she knows it’s just another part of who Paige is.

“Lock in, Paigey,” Drew tells her, realizing she’s unfocused, too, and his demand makes Tess erupt in laughter.

“Bro, I am locked in!” she exclaims.

The three of them load into the game and Drew drops a marker in the middle of the map. He looks at Paige with an expression that is menacing in the way only a younger sibling can ever be capable of. “You should pay more attention to the game,” he says innocently, “and less on your girlfriend.”

“Drew!” Paige cries, her face reddening. Tess feels the burn on her cheeks but she can’t stop herself from bursting into peals of laughter. Paige drops her controller long enough to bury her face in her hands in exasperation. Drew’s giggles are infectious, which makes it harder for Tess to get the air back in her lungs. “Bro, do not kill my girlfriend. I will hunt you down, swear.”

Drew sticks his thumb and index fingers up in an L shape, shoving his hand in Paige’s face, who pushes him back dramatically. “You both need to lock in,” Tess gripes, but she can’t wipe the smile off her face. “You promised me a win, Paigey.”

Paige scoffs, picking her controller back up. Together, the three of them begin their descent, along with dozens of other players, into the most populated location on the map. “Don’t trip, ma. You know I got you.”

Tess hums, unconvinced. Eventually, they do end up taking the win at the end of the match, which results in Drew showboating after he successfully stole the final kill from Paige. Tess giggles as she watches him run a victory lap around their living room over the phone. Paige meets Tess’s eyes, a fond expression on her face, although she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. The blonde isn’t a different person around her brother by any means. She’s still sarcastic, freakishly charming, but there’s an underlying softness in how she speaks to him that reminds Tess of how Paige speaks to her. She’s not soft because Drew is younger or needs coddling, but Tess suspects that Paige just treats him that way because Drew just means that much to her. There’s an immeasurable amount of care in her heart that most people miss simply because Paige likes to tease, but having grown up similarly, Tess is fine-tuned to the way Paige shows her love, fine-tuned to the way it manifests in their own friendship.

For the next month and some change, this is their routine. Tess and Paige spend hours on FaceTime playing Fortnite. Sometimes it’s with Drew, who yaps just as much as Paige does, but as the time goes by, Tess finds that she truly enjoys listening to the both of them go on. They talk about their blended family and their other siblings, Ryan and Lauren. Paige lights up when Tess asks more about them – it’s obvious that she’s an amazing older sister and her siblings clearly adore her. In turn, Tess opens up about her cousins. Her mother had fertility issues and Tess was their miracle baby; her cousins were the closest people she had to siblings, and she wouldn’t change a thing about it. One day, Drew declared that Tess is his sister now, too, and that was enough to shock Paige and make Tess tear up.

Other times, it’s just her and Paige hanging out alone. They talk about any and everything, poking fun at each other over the simplest things, laughing at stupid shit, and stirring the pot online when they share photos of their wins with cringey captions like, “my duo.”

Tess has never verbalized it before, but she knew it was just as true: Paige gets her. The knee, the on-court pressure, their other shared interests. The understanding between her and Kamilla is different from the one between her and Paige. She lacks the ability to define it, and honestly, she’s not sure how important the actual definition is anymore. She’s acutely aware of just how much of her life she’s inadvertently dampened by trying to understand something before experiencing it. The moral is that Paige has quickly become an integral facet in her life. That thought doesn’t scare her as much as it used to.

“Okay, so what do you notice that’s different about me?” Tess asks coyly one day after she props her phone up on her nightstand, taking a few cautious steps backwards. She places her hands on her hips, watching as Paige taps her chin dramatically.

“Wait, you’re not using your crutches anymore!” the blonde exclaims.

“Nope! Officially cleared.” Tess wiggles her leg, a beaming grin on her face. “Still got the brace, though.”

Their friendship progresses over the month and so does Tess’s recovery. Her wins easily become Paige’s wins. Paige celebrates her with just as much enthusiasm as she celebrates wins on the court, all teeth and wide smiles when Tess reports back with crucial developments in therapy or new developments with her knee. Tess is just as invested in Paige’s life as she is in hers; Tess “officially” meets some of her teammates when they’re on live one night and Paige forces her to join. They spend hours together, and judging by all of the screen recordings they’re tagged in the morning after, they clearly did a good job at pretending to be together (although Bree’s factual statement about Tess being unable to lie swims in Tess’s head on repeat).

When they’re not playing Fortnite or fucking around on the other games Paige forces her to try out, they’re building LEGO sets together. They were on FaceTime one night building two different sets: Tess with a tuxedo cat and Paige with a red rose, and the jokes were flowing. When Paige finished her rose, she displayed it proudly with a cheeky smile, holding it up to her phone screen as if she was giving it to Tess. While Tess rolled her eyes, she couldn’t curb her growing fondness for the blonde, and they both seemed to know it.

“What do we think about the white?” Tess asks another day, holding the aforementioned dress over her body, displaying it for Paige, who sits patiently on the other end of the phone.

The blonde raises an unimpressed brow. “Who all’s gonna be there?”

Tess levels her with an unimpressed look of her own, lowering the dress slightly. “P, it’s my cousin’s baby shower. Take a wild guess.”

Paige raises her hands defensively. “All I’m saying is the white looks good as hell on you. I might have to fly out to make sure no one brings a plus one who’s on some funny shit.”

Tess flushes, but rolls her eyes with a pleased expression. “The white’s nice, right? But look at this gold one I have, too.” Tess hangs the white dress back in her closet, returning with the gold one in tow – it has a slightly longer skirt but it’s a little more snug at the top. Paige is quiet for far too long. Tess narrows her eyes at her, stepping closer to the phone to see what’s going on only to realize Paige is just shamelessly checking her out. “Eyes up here, Romeo. White or gold?”

Paige clears her throat. “Can’t you just wear a paper bag or sum’?”

“To my cousin’s baby shower?” Tess deadpans.

Paige stares back at her with a serious expression. “Well, it’s either the paper bag or you figure out how to become ugly. Only one of those is possible.”

“You are no help at all. Let me call Sabrina –”

“Gold,” Paige interrupts quickly. “You don’t need Sabrina. She’s not even six foot.”

“And her height makes her unfit to pick out dresses, because…why?”

“She don’t see the vision like I do,” the blonde says simply, smirking in a self-satisfied way. “The gold? Immaculate.”

“Spell immaculate.”

Paige gasps indignantly. “Alright! It’s like you’ont even want my help. What am I even here for?”

Tess grins mischeviously at her, returning the dress back to the rack in her closet. “Clearly just to stare at me. You have no shame, Paige Bueckers.”

She raises her eyebrows suggestively, her expression appreciative. “Well, I mean–”

“Goodnight, Paige!”

Somewhere in between late night FaceTimes and breaking the Internet one Instagram comment at a time, their friendship seems to shift. It all becomes natural. She wakes up, responds to Paige’s timely Good morning! texts, reposts her stories and comments on her posts. The longer that this goes on, the less that Tess cares about whoever they’re supposed to be pretending for. Her brand deals are trusting her again and the trolls in her comments start disappearing. Her PT and therapy appointments are going well and she starts feeling like herself again. She’s sure she could credit that to Paige’s near constant presence in her life, but she knows the blonde well enough by now – Paige would emphasize that it’s all Tess. For a while, Tess was fearful of letting this get out of hand, but she’s coming to realize now that she doesn’t mind how their friendship has evolved.

But Tess has been around for long enough to realize that the ball drops sooner rather than later. Late at night in early June, Tess gasps awake with debilitating pain in her knee. It was unexpected – she hadn’t felt it like this in quite a while. Her exercises were going well and she was usually cautious to not overwork herself, but perhaps she did a little too much that day and it’s coming back to bite her in the ass. She groans in pain as she pushes herself into a sitting position, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and blindly reaching for the insulated cup full of ice that she keeps on her nightstand for times like this. Tess digs through her blankets until she finds her phone and turns the flashlight on. She pours some of the ice into a ziplock bag she keeps on hand, zipping it shut tightly and pressing it to her knee. It does little to soothe the pain, but it’s better than nothing, and her breathing becomes a little easier.

It’s only after she takes care of her knee that she finally registers the dryness of her mouth, the thirst for something to numb the pain. She falls back onto her pillows in equal parts frustration and grief – she thought she was past this. She’d made so much progress in therapy and figuring out how to fill her time with new hobbies and activities to distract her. She hadn’t felt an actual craving in a few days, but now, it feels like undoing a month’s worth of work. Tess reaches into the cup and shovels a handful of ice into her mouth. As she chews, it soothes the dryness and the cold is enough to shock her brain, but it’s not enough to regulate her. The pain in her knee combined with the urge to do something she’ll regret makes her feel like she’s drowning again. She could easily satiate it – her parents moved their liquor (not out of distrust, but to keep it out of mind), although she knows where the hiding spots are. She grew up with younger cousins. Knowing how to keep it out of reach was just a matter of responsibility. But now, that responsibility feels uncomfortably like temptation, and it takes everything in her to keep herself rooted to the bed.

Tess reaches for her phone before she even fully processes what she’s doing. She types in her passcode, swipes over to her contacts, and hits call. The phone only rings twice before the line clicks through.

“Tess?” Paige’s voice is quiet, but rough with sleep. Part of Tess feels guilty for waking her up, although the other part of her knows that Paige would have been upset if she didn’t call.

“Hey,” Tess says softly, unconsciously relaxing.

“Are you okay? What’s up?” Paige sounds a little more awake now, shifting around on her bed, and Tess exhales. She hates how much better she does feel just from hearing her voice. Her knee still aches but her brain clears. It’s like coming back up for air after diving.

“I’m sorry for waking you–”

“Don’t,” Paige says firmly, interrupting her. “What's wrong, ma?”

Tess smiles, forgetting Paige can’t see her. “I woke up and I was in so much pain,” she admits in a near whisper, listening to the sound of Paige’s breathing. “Felt like I was tearing my ACL all over again. And then the cravings came back. I was doing so well, like I was improving, but… I’m frustrated and exhausted and my knee hurts so bad, and, I don’t know, I just wanted to hear your voice.” Her confession rings out in the silence of her room. She tries to ignore the way her voice cracks, but her honesty makes the weight on her shoulders feel a little lighter.

“You know you can call me whenever,” Paige says after a while, her voice soft. “I’ll answer.”

“I know.”

“You are improving,” she continues, trying to find the words. “This isn’t a set back, ma, just part of recovery. It’s never gonna be linear. Some nights are gonna be harder than others. But that doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It just means you gotta fight a little harder.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Tess admits. “I just want to be okay again.”

“You will be,” Paige says confidently, endlessly patient. “Tess Kennedy doesn’t lose to the same opponent twice, right?”

Tess chuckles. “That was kind of a bar.” Paige hums in agreement. “Thank you for picking up.”

Paige makes a noise in the back of her throat, like the idea that she wouldn’t pick up is preposterous. “Always, Tess, you know I got you.” Tess can’t stop the slow smile from spreading across her face. “You want me to stay?”

Tess opens her mouth, hesitating, but reminds herself to be honest. “Can you? Please?”

Paige hums again, her voice sounding sleepy, and Tess relaxes as Paige begins to ramble. “Lauren and Ryan are comin’ up this week. We’re just gonna hang, do a big dinner and shit. I wish they lived closer, but I mean, I’m in Storrs most of the year and they’re getting older so they’ll be goin’ off to college, too. I just really miss them a lot. I think you’d like them. Maybe you can fly up for the holidays and I can introduce you. My parents ask about you. They might like you more than they like me, which is insane…like these past 21 years didn’t mean anything to them.”

“Poor baby,” Tess teases in a soft murmur. She hears Paige snort.

“Are you free, um, fuck – on the holidays?” Tess listens to Paige shuffle around, a smile growing on her lips. “Do you celebrate?”

“Thanksgiving, no; Christmas, yes,” Tess responds. “My parents and I usually just watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV and order a pizza.”

“Lemme fly you out for Thanksgiving? Meet my family?”

Tess hardly has to give it a second thought. “Sounds perfect to me,” she says. “You wanna fly out here after Christmas? New Year’s in New York?”

“Whatever you want,” Paige replies. “You’ll have to give me that insider Kennedy knowledge. How do I get your parents to like me?”

Tess laughs, feeling her eyes droop. “You don’t have to worry about that, trust. My mom thinks you’re good for me. And my dad thinks you’re the worst kept secret in the history of Tess Kennedy’s worst kept secrets.”

“Yeah?” Paige huffs out a quiet laugh. “And what does Tess Kennedy think? Am I good for her?”

Tess struggles to stifle her growing smile as she answers coyly. “What do you think?”

She can almost visualize Paige’s grin. “I make you smile. I think ‘m doing somethin’ right.”

And for that, Tess truly has no rebuttal, embracing the warmth that creeps up her cheeks. Paige keeps speaking and Tess tries her best to stay awake to listen, but the timbre of Paige’s voice reverberates throughout her room and lulls her to sleep. It makes her forget about the ache in her knee and the chaos in her mind. Paige’s soft laugh as she recounts her first dunk is the last thing Tess hears before she succumbs to a blessedly peaceful slumber.

[writers-potion]

What is the fastest way to improve greatly at writing?

Fast-Forwarding Your Writing Skills

Developing your writing skills take only two things: READ A LOT, WRITE A LOT.

The question is, how do you read a lot and write a lot, in a relatively short period of time?

The first rule: don't give up. It may seem really slow now, but everyone can get better at writing. I know this advice is really stale, but it's one that I've told myself over and over again - just so that I can push through another slow evening.

Here are some things I have tried to get better at writing:

Memorizing quotes/passages/poems that I like. The things that I memorize would come back to me when I'm stuck mid-sentence, and I would try to do something similar. Sounds like plagiarism? Well, copying other authors' styles and mix-matching them is actually an important process of finding your own voice.

Conducting a "plot analysis". I was inspired by the method outlined in the book for this one. After you finish a book, make a list of all the scenes and try placing them into a three-act structure. This will help you (1) familiarize yourself with plot dynamics that work (2) understand your genre better.

Reading a book more than once. Honestly, all of my first reads are just for the story. I gobble the plot up, without paying attention to anything much. On my subsequent reads, I'm able to pay more attention to the way descriptions are done, or how the chapters are divided, etc.

Copying a book by hand, word-by-word. So far the most inefficient method (haha), but this exercise does help you pay A LOT more attention to how the author is using diction, syntax, dialogue, etc. to actually "construct" a book.

I hope this helps! :) If you're reading this and have tips of your own, please comment! >>

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