#First game fandom I’ve ever written for

[ga-lily-o]

Meet-cute Through a Window (Though it Shouldn’t be Possible)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of plague, a bit of swearing (couldn’t help myself, really), good ol puppet fear, I love P so much he’s so everything to me

P x (gn) reader

In the ruins of an ever rotting city, love is the last thing you’d expect to find. Rubble cannot foster the gentleness love necessitates, nor can it pretend to. In the ticking heart of a special puppet, filled with oil and ergo ever pulsing, love finds a way to fester. Pinocchio proves to be an exception to many things, and in loving you he has become an exception to the very notion that love cannot find purchase on the ledge of a burning society.

You meet through a window tucked away in the far corners of Krat, one you’d thought to be hidden from the puppet frenzy. It had been your honest mistake; a moment of forgetfulness wherein you peaked through the curtains and found yourself under his curious blue eyes. Crystalline and shining, they shocked you frozen to the spot. Any initial noise you might have let out dies with a weak flutter in your throat and you beg internally for this person to be a person and not a puppet.

A small whirr fills the air in the next second and your heart drops into your stomach. His expression is unchanging even in the face of your panic, but his shoulders sag (—holy shit is that a sword on his back?) in something like surrender and he tilts his head.

If you didn’t know any better, he might have just looked like a curious, yet apathetic boy peering at you through your window. With the sword on his back and the gentle whirr that rings in the silence, it’s hard not to know better. Never mind whatever the fuck is on his metal arm, you’re just ignoring that for the time being or you’re sure to go mental.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispers at the same time you say, “Please don’t kill me.”

If he’s surprised or hurt by what you say, he doesn’t (or probably can’t) show it. The words are muffled through the glass, but you’ve trained your ears to hear through the small opening at the bottom. He holds both palms open and says nothing else.

You… want to trust him, really. More than just the fact that his eyes are so pretty they shine like a fantastic lake straight out of a story book; or that his freckles paint him like an old, long dead painter might have painted the stars. You want to trust him in the open and gentle way he seems to offer up his hands and promise you more than what the rest of Krat has since the frenzy.

In the rubble of a burning city crashing in on itself, there is not a speck of gentleness to be spared. This— puppet has it in spades, and it draws you out of your panic just enough to pull the window open bit by bit. You do not break his gaze for a moment as you tug it up and open, and he is patient enough not to be the first to do so. Instead, he stretches a hand out to you and waits for your warm skin to meet the cold smooth synthetic surface of his own non-legion hand.

It would be just your luck if somehow puppets learned how to lie, too, but something tells you he means it wholly and honestly when he insists he will not hurt you. The whirring picks up gently, almost imperceptibly quicker, but you don’t pay it any mind. The edges of your instincts are sharp with distrust, but you lay your hand and life in the hands of this puppet and find yourself minding it less and less with each second.

A loaded pause passes— you stare down at your hands barely touching and he watches you with that same, frozen expression. You thickly swallow before you wrap your fingers around his hand and look up right into those beautiful blues.

“Would you… like to come in?”

Now, you don’t have much experience in how to fuel (feed?) an automaton; wasn’t your job before the frenzy and certainly hasn’t become since, but you could learn. It’s a silly thought to have, but you haven’t had a guest in god knows how long and a sharing a cup of tea sounds lovely (if puppets could even have tea). And — sure, maybe openly inviting the literal enemy of every human being in Krat into your house isn’t the smartest thing to do, but you can’t help it. More than just his pretty face, his gentle hand caresses yours so softly and the nod he gives is so warm that in the loneliness of having been the last sentient thing in the area, you couldn’t help but falter.

The world around you tastes of ash and rubble, but you meet someone who seems to bring about a breath of fresh air. His eyes are bright like ergo, and his hair fluffs like a black cloud. When he nods ever softly, something whirrs and clicks in the air. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you don’t know if it’s really out of fear anymore.

Your world ended in a frenzied flurry of plague and massacre; it started again when you peaked through your window and met him.

[floofanflurr]

Examples:

Second:

It’s one of those days, today.

The kind where you wake up, and the sight of Mom cooking with fire magic in the kitchen makes the smooth, shiny, red burn scar on your shoulder ache. The kind where, when you take a bite of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, you taste coppery blood mixed with the spices.

Third:

It’s one of those days, today.

The kind where Frisk wakes up, and the sight of Mom cooking with fire magic in the kitchen makes the smooth, shiny, red burn scar on their shoulder ache. The kind where, when they take a bite of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, they taste coppery blood mixed with the spices.

If you answered the poll, please consider reblogging for visibility! Thank you!

(And if you want, share in the tags if your pov preference is a hard limit—do you prefer third, and refuse to read second? Or are you willing to read both but just have a preference?)

[deadpoetsandlivinglegends]

Todd going home for the weekend (Saturday morning to Sunday evening)

Todd, getting up from the breakfast table with the poets Saturday morning: oh I have to go

Neil, staring wistfully: oh mine own Todd, I bid thee the sweetest of goodbyes, my heart may be full of sorrows but I shall speak my farewells with honest wellness and inpatient joyfulness for I shall be waiting to see thee again on the morrow, mine own sweetest Todd, until then I shall hold you in mine heart for I cannot hold you in mine dear arms

Todd, walking out: uh ye-yeAH uh, I’ll see ya tomorrow *awkwardest wave you’ve ever seen* b- *runs into table because he was looking at poets* uh bye Neil

Neil, after Todd leaves: did you see that guys, isn’t he sooooo romantic, he just says the most perfect things to me

The poets: *wondering if Neil is delusional or just that lovesick*

[verdantcreek]

half-silvered surface, chapter one: prologue

finally sharing my fic! i’ve been working on this for the past two months and i’m incredibly happy with how it turned out. summary under the cut!

john mactavish is dead.

simon riley was in love with him, and he'd kept it to himself. after the tunnel, he feels nothing but regret; he's consumed by his mistake to leave his feelings unspoken. the others never knew, and he suffers quietly. when price makes a crucial decision for the team without his input, his anger deepens.

john is dead, but he's back home, alone in a strange sort of afterlife. it's comfortable, peaceful, and he quickly realizes he can slip his way back into simon's reality, unnoticed and silent. he visits his lieutenant from the other side as time starts to pass, and his best friend mourns his death. there's nothing he can do but watch, even as he realizes that maybe his feelings were deeper than he'd thought.

maybe one day they'll feel alright.

[prettygirl-gabi]

“To the Moon and Beyond”

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x Reader (Pazzi x Reader)

Fandom: NCAA Women’s Basketball / WNBA

Warnings: cheating, revenge cheating, eventually in later parts there will be 18+ content (smut, alcohol consumption, strong language), polyamory, public teasing/flirting (in later parts)

Summary: A tangled history of love, heartbreak, and hidden desire leads three elite players—and the WNBA spotlight.

A/N: yes this is hella long… I got in a groove and couldn’t stop writing… but yeahh enjoy!! This is also one of the longest fics I’ve ever written… will be multiple parts….cause it’s too long for tumblr…

Also thank you @paige05bby for the banner/header

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

I’ve known Paige Bueckers since we were nine.

We met on the cracked hardwood of a middle school gym, both drowning in oversized jerseys and the too-big dreams of becoming something. She was all bounce passes and bubblegum, the blue-eyed blur who wouldn’t stop until she got the bucket. And me? I was defense and discipline.

Together, we were unstoppable.

From AAU weekends that blurred into each other, to our high school championship banners, we grew up in sync. On the court and off, our chemistry never missed. What started as inside jokes turned into shared playlists. Glances turned into touches. Eventually, the line between friendship and something more? It blurred until it didn’t exist.

We never defined it. Not back then. We didn’t have to.

But then college happened.

She chose UConn. I went West. USC was my dream, and she knew it, even helped me rehearse my pitch for the admissions interview. We still talked every night at first. FaceTimed after practices, sent voice memos, traded selfies. And when I flew home for breaks, we picked up like nothing changed.

Until it did.

It’s a blurry memory now — that final night. We were in her dorm in Storrs, both sweaty and breathless, tangled in each other under those awful fluorescent lights. I was wearing one of her UConn hoodies, the one with the frayed sleeve. My lips were still swollen from her kiss when she sat up suddenly, like something hit her mid-breath.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

I blinked, propped myself on my elbow. “What?”

“With you. Like this.” She didn’t look at me. Just stared at the far wall like she couldn’t bear to see my reaction. “I’m with Azzi now. For real. I want it to work. I have to try.”

She didn’t say sorry. And maybe that’s what stung the most.

After that, I stopped texting her. Not out of pettiness, but because it hurt too damn much.

I’d open my camera roll and there she’d be a memory— in baggy shirts, goofy grins, wearing my hoodie instead of hers. And I’d almost hit send on a message just to say something like, “Remember when we—” But I didn’t. I’d remember the look in her eyes when she told me it was over.

And then I’d put my phone down.

She kept liking my posts.

Subtle ones. Always with our secret emoji: 🌝.

A photo of my game-day shoes? Liked. The mirror selfie I took before our media shoot? Liked. A blurry boomerang of me and my teammates on the bus? Liked. Always that damn moon.

I never liked hers back. Not even when she dropped 30 on South Carolina and the whole world was reposting her highlight reel, calling her “Huskies Paige” like she hadn’t been lighting up the league already.

It didn’t feel right.

I couldn’t be hers anymore. Not really. Not after how things ended. Not after she chose her.

Even if she still wanted me.

Azzi’s POV

I wasn’t snooping.

That’s what I told myself.

I just needed the charger. Paige always left it by the couch cushion. But her phone lit up when I grabbed it — and I couldn’t look away.

unknown number: last night was unforgettable. I can’t stop thinking about you.

The photo attached was blurry — a hotel bar, maybe. Champagne. A smile I didn’t recognize.

But I recognized the timestamp. One week ago. New York. A brand event.

My stomach turned.

Paige was asleep down the hall. I didn’t even bother waking her.

I didn’t cry either.

I just packed a small bag. Enough for a few days. Hoodie, jeans, chargers. My passport. And my headphones — couldn’t risk listening to the quiet too long. I left a note on the fridge:

I know. I’ll be back. Don’t wait up. —A

Then I turned off my location the second the plane touched down in Southern California.

Y/n’s POV

I was mid-scroll when I got the DM. No greeting. No emojis. Just:

Azzi: Can I crash at your place?

I blinked.

And then again.

Me: …yeah. You okay?

Azzi: No.

She showed up two hours later. No makeup, no jewelry. Just a black hoodie pulled over her braids and shadows under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days.

She dropped her bag by the door and slid onto my couch like it belonged to her.

I stayed standing.

Azzi met my eyes. “I found messages on Paige’s phone,” she said, voice like glass cracking. “Some girl from a brand event. Said it was a night she wouldn’t forget.”

I didn’t move.

Azzi laughed, sharp and dry. “Isn’t that cute?”

I cleared my throat. “Why are you here?”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

“Because cheating with a random is one thing. But cheating with your best friend?” Her gaze flicked up to mine. “That’s a different kind of pain.”

I froze. “I’m not—”

“I know you’re not with her,” she said, too quickly. “That’s not what I’m saying. But you’re still the one she wants. Always have been. And maybe, if I’m honest…” Her voice faltered, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “Maybe I just needed to feel like I had the power to break something too.”

There was silence after that.

Heavy. Loaded. Everything unsaid filling the air like smoke.

I should’ve told her to leave. Should’ve drawn a line. Closed the door. Asked why she thought I’d ever want to be someone’s revenge.

But instead…

We kissed.

It wasn’t slow. Wasn’t delicate. It was the kind of kiss that tasted like fury and desperation, like something beautiful that had been starved too long. Her hands were cold. Mine were shaking.

And even as part of me screamed not to—

I let her.

And I hated how much I liked it.

The sunlight in L.A. always hits too sharp the morning after something like that.

Azzi was quiet when she woke. This had been her second and last morning here. She stretched out in my bed like she hadn’t moved all night, her hoodie thrown across the floor, my sheets wrinkled where our bodies had tangled in the heat of it. I was already sitting up, hugging my knees, staring out the window like it could tell me what the hell I’d just done.

She didn’t say good morning. Didn’t apologize. She just blinked slowly, then rolled toward me, hair falling across her cheek.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

I nodded. “Yeah. You do.”

She didn’t move yet. “Last night…the night before…”

She paused.

I waited.

But she didn’t finish the sentence. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe if she said too much, it would shatter whatever fragile justification we’d both built in our heads.

Instead, Azzi got dressed in silence. She slipped her hoodie back on, pulled her hair into a loose bun, and only broke the stillness when she looked into the mirror and noticed the mess we’d left behind.

Red, purplish bruises dotted the delicate skin beneath her jaw. One curled under her ear. Two more across her collarbone.

She didn’t even flinch. Just adjusted her hoodie and looked over at me with a thin, unreadable smile.

“I’ll text when I land.”

Azzi’s POV

The plane ride back was quiet. I wore my hood up and my headphones in, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest and the phantom touch still lingering on my skin.

I knew what I’d done. I knew the weight of it before I even touched her. But it didn’t stop me. That was the part that scared me the most.

I got back late. Paige was in the kitchen, barefoot in sweatpants, stirring something on the stove that she was probably never going to eat. Her eyes shot up the second she heard the door click.

“Azzi,” she breathed. She looked like she hadn’t slept.

I didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” she said instantly, voice cracking. “I swear—whatever that was in New York, it didn’t mean anything. I was drunk and—God, I messed up.”

She crossed the kitchen, reaching for me like she could still fix it with proximity. Like closeness could erase betrayal.

I didn’t cry. Didn’t yell.

I just stood my ground and said:

“I slept with Y/N.”

Paige froze. The words hit her like a punch straight to the gut.

“What?”

Her voice was barely there. Fragile.

I didn’t repeat it.

She took a step back, her expression cracking all at once. “You—what do you mean you—?”

“I mean I flew to L.A.,” I said, slowly, deliberately. “I turned my location off. I showed up at her door. And I didn’t leave until the next morning.”

The silence was heavy. Deafening.

I watched her chest rise and fall, watched the devastation settle behind her eyes like stormclouds.

“You went to her?” she whispered.

“I figured,” I said bitterly, “if you were gonna cheat with someone random, I could at least cheat with someone who mattered to you.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, shaking slightly.

“Did you do it to hurt me?” she asked, voice raw.

I didn’t blink.

“You don’t get to be mad,” I snapped.

Paige laughed bitterly, a hollow sound. “Oh, so you can cheat out of revenge, but I can’t even ask questions?”

“You didn’t just cheat, Paige. You lied. You made me feel safe and then let some girl blow up our entire house.”

“You think I meant for that to happen?”

I stepped closer. “No, but you sure didn’t stop it.”

Her jaw locked, the muscle ticking.

Then she grabbed her phone.

“Don’t,” I warned.

“Oh no, we’re doing this now.”

She pulled up your name, hit call, and put it on speaker.

It rang once. Twice.

Then—

“Hello? Why are you calling me Paige?”

Your voice was soft. Cautious.

I could practically feel the way your stomach probably dropped.

Paige’s tone sharpened, cut like glass. “Y/N, did Azzi fuck you better than me, huh?”

I flinched.

“Paige—” you started, voice tight, already bracing for impact.

But she kept going. “Did she make you tap out?” Her eyes were on me now. Unblinking. “Did she fuck you so good you forgot about me?”

I wanted to scream. Instead, I just stared at her, heart pounding, stomach in knots.

Silence crackled over the line.

Then your voice came, colder than I’d ever heard it.

“Paige, grow the fuck up.”

You hung up.

Just like that.

The silence in the kitchen was suffocating. My ears rang.

Paige stared down at her phone, the call screen gone black now. Her hand dropped slowly to her side.

I crossed my arms, voice shaking. “You didn’t call to ask. You called to hurt.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to deny it.

But she didn’t.

Because we both knew it was true.

The silence after she hung up could’ve split the floor beneath us.

I turned my back to Paige, walked to the fridge, opened it just to do something with my hands. My throat burned.

“You happy now?” I asked, quietly. “You proved your point?”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, you were,” I cut her off, spinning around. “You wanted to humiliate me. To make her pick. To twist the knife.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “She already picked you.”

“No,” I said, voice low. “She didn’t. That’s the part that’s killing you, isn’t it? She never picked me. Not really.”

She didn’t deny it.

Just stood there in the middle of our shared kitchen, hoodie sleeves half-pushed up, hair messy from stress, breathing heavy like she’d just run a mile. She looked like a storm in a glass bottle—no space left to rage.

“I loved you,” I said, stepping forward, my chest aching. “I actually did. I built my life around you.”

“I never asked you to!” Paige snapped.

“But you let me.”

We both stilled.

It was too much.

I grabbed my keys from the counter. “I’m staying at KK’s.”

“Azzi, wait—”

I didn’t.

Y/n’s POV

My phone was still in my hand, screen black, my heart racing like I’d run sprints.

I hadn’t even processed the words. Did she fuck you better than me?

I didn’t know what made me angrier—that Paige asked, or that part of me had a fucking answer.

I set the phone down and paced.

Five hours later, my apartment buzzer went off.

I froze. From aggressively cleaning my apartment, when I really wanted to break everything in this bitch.

Then again. A second buzz. Then pounding on the door.

I opened it.

And there she was.

Paige Bueckers. Hoodie, sweats, clutching her phone in one hand, emotional wreckage in her eyes.

“Paige—”

She stepped inside without waiting. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You never are,” I snapped.

She blinked. “Okay. Fine. Hit me.”

“I don’t have to. You’re already bleeding.”

She swallowed hard.

I crossed my arms. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know!” she yelled suddenly, voice cracking. “I don’t fucking know. I just—You were mine. You were always mine, and now—now I see you with her and it’s like—like someone replaced my lungs with cement.”

I laughed bitterly. “You were the one who left me.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And now you think you can just come back and what? Ask me which one of you fucks me better?”

She looked wrecked. Her mouth opened, but no sound came.

“Get out.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out before I start hating you.”

She didn’t move right away. But then something shifted in her eyes. Like a curtain fell.

Paige nodded once.

And she left.

The door clicked shut behind her like a trigger.

And I finally let myself sit down.

And cry.

Paige’s POV

I sat outside her door for twenty minutes, knees pulled to my chest, hoodie up like it could hide the damage on my face. Tears kept falling, quiet and constant, like my body had forgotten how to hold anything in.

She didn’t even come back to the door. Not once.

I deserved that.

I really did.

But sitting there, staring at the cracks in the pavement, I thought—Someone has to forgive me. Someone.

So I stood up, wiped my face with my sleeve, and walked back inside. She never locked it.

The second I stepped into the apartment, I saw her.

Y/N had stopped crying, but her face was still blotchy, eyes still raw. She was furiously scrubbing the countertop, muttering to herself like maybe if she cleaned hard enough, she could erase what I’d done.

And then she looked up.

Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious right now?”

Before I could say anything, a water bottle flew through the air and smacked against the wall just left of my head.

I flinched, and she stormed toward me.

Her fists hit my chest—weak at first, then stronger, then desperate. “You don’t get to do this, Paige! You don’t get to just walk back in like this!”

“I—”

“No! Shut up!” she screamed. “You chose Azzi. You cheated on Azzi. You threw me away, twice, and you’re still in love with me? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

Her fists slowed but didn’t stop. I didn’t move. I let her hit me. I let her scream.

“I loved you so much it scared me,” she cried. “I still love you, and I hate that I do. I hate that you can still make me feel like this.”

I caught her wrists gently, not to stop her—just to hold her. “I never stopped loving you.”

She sobbed once, raw and guttural, and pressed her forehead to my chest. “It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“I know.”

“But I still want to.”

“I know. Me too.”

Silence hung between us like smoke.

I didn’t move. Neither did she.

We stayed like that for a long time. Not healing. Not fixing. Just existing in the same wreckage.

Azzi’s POV – Back in Connecticut

“So… yeah,” I whispered.

KK stared at me like I’d just told her I was moving to Mars. “You really said it like that?”

“I looked Paige in the eye,” I murmured, “and I told her I slept with Y/N.”

KK’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t say anything right away.

“I still love her,” I said, voice cracking. “I hate her. I hate what she did. But I still love her.”

KK exhaled slowly. “Do you think Y/N loves her too?”

“Yes,” I said. “She always has.”

I sank deeper into the couch. My hoodie sleeves covered half my hands. Hickeys dotted my neck like bruises made by ghosts I wasn’t ready to confront. “I thought it would hurt Paige the way she hurt me. That it would give me some kind of… control.”

KK was quiet.

“But all it did was make it worse. For everyone.”

She finally spoke, voice low and careful. “Do you regret it?”

“I regret everything, but I don’t regret Y/n.” I whispered.

There was a long pause.

“But, I don’t think any of us are coming back from this, KK. Not me. Not her. Not Y/N.”

KK pulled the blanket up around my shoulders and let me fall apart.

And for the first time, I let myself believe I really had broken something we could never fix.

There was a long pause.

Y/n’s POV – Southern California

It’s Juju who tells me.

We’re on the practice court, just us, shooting around after everyone else left. The sun’s barely dipping, golden light slanting through the gym windows.

She catches a rebound and holds onto it. Doesn’t pass it back.

“They’re coming,” she says.

My stomach dips. “What?”

“KK and I talked. Paige. Azzi. All three of them are flying in. They land tonight.”

I freeze, sweat already clinging to my skin, now cold. “Here?”

She nods. “Tomorrow. For a sit down.”

I stare at her. “You think this is a good idea?”

She walks over, puts the ball down. “I think it’s the only shot any of you have at being okay again.”

That very next day, I vacuumed twice.

I Windexed the mirrors. I rearranged my throw pillows. I lit a candle. Then blew it out. Then lit it again.

My hands were shaking by the time the knock came.

When I opened the door, they were both standing there. Azzi in a hoodie and sweatpants, her hair in a bun. Paige in loose jeans and an old UConn tee. They looked tired. Human.

Nobody said anything right away.

I stepped aside. “Come in.”

They sat on opposite sides of the couch. I took the armchair.

The silence stretched.

Until finally Azzi said, “Thanks for letting us do this.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know if I would.”

Paige looked at me like I was air she hadn’t breathed in weeks. “We just wanna talk. For real.”

So we did.

For hours.

We unraveled every inch of the knot between us.

Azzi told me about the night she found the messages on Paige’s phone. How her heart dropped. How all she wanted was to hurt her back.

Paige admitted that she’d kissed that random at the brand event, thinking it didn’t count because her heart was already broken from missing me. She said she hated herself for it the second it happened.

“I wanted someone to forgive me,” she said, eyes glossy. “But I didn’t deserve it.”

Azzi turned to me. “And I didn’t sleep with you just to be petty. At first… maybe. But when I saw you again, it wasn’t revenge. It was…” She trailed off.

“Safe,” I said.

She nodded.

I told them everything too.

How I couldn’t forgive Paige, but still loved her. How I didn’t regret being with Azzi, even if it was complicated. How none of it felt clean. How the silence afterward almost broke me.

“I felt like all I had left were memories of people who didn’t exist anymore,” I whispered.

And that’s when Paige broke.

She slid off the couch, sat on the floor, hands over her face. “I miss both of you so much, it’s like breathing in water every day.”

Azzi came down beside her. After a moment, so did I.

Three of us. On the rug. Like a slow-burning apology.

“I don’t know what happens next,” I murmured. “I just know we’re not those people anymore.”

“But we can choose who we become now,” Azzi said.

Paige wiped her face, voice cracked. “Even if it’s just friends.”

My throat tightened. “Or even if it’s nothing.”

We sat there.

Breathing.

Together.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[whispersleo]

The joyous wyvern - the free book

You can find it in this drive folder!

Hello! Today I’m very excited to finally share this final project in my editorial design specialization: a children’s storybook album, inspired by the dialogue in The Wake written by Mary Kirby, where Illario talks about the time he went with Lucanis to hunt wyverns as children. I must mention that I took the liberty of introducing my own headcanon about their ages, with Illario being the oldest, because Lucanis strikes me as having a very clear "younger brother" behavior.

For this project, I’ve poured blood, sweat, and tears into it. I ended up doing absolutely everything myself when my classmate, who was supposed to help me with the layout for her part of the team project, just decided not to, but I feel content enough with the result to share it. Originally in Spanish, I translated and edited it into English so more people can enjoy it!

There’s a lot I’d like to say, I’ll be posting some sketches, the development process, the designs, and my usual notes [here], and I can answer any questions you might have about the project in the editorial area (or anything else about the project really), but for this post in particular, I just want to give you full, free access to this illustrated book and thank you because this has been on my mind and occupying my time for the last six months.

First, thank you to everyone in this amazing fandom who has supported my creative projects, whether by leaving kudos on AO3, liking my posts here on Tumblr, leaving comments, sending messages, or any form of support! You motivate me to create every day, make me feel welcome, and it’s so nice to be here.

Thanks to @woundedsoul12 for being the first person to welcome me to the fandom, read my works, and be vocal with me about it! In the beginning, I was so afraid of writing again, of making mistakes in some way, and I was very shy about showing what I was doing, but thanks to you, I’ve been able to gain confidence. Without your support, I don’t think I would have decided to keep creating for this fandom. You’ve allowed people to get to know me and have been incredibly kind about me and my work. I owe you so many thanks, I hope you never change, you’re an amazing person!

Thanks to @theheartmold for getting me interested in Illario as a character. Without your posts sharing your interest in the character, your analysis, and your overall enthusiasm, I honestly wouldn’t have been interested in reading Tevinter Nights or The Wake. After two playthroughs in the game, you made me decide to sit down and see that Illario had MUCH more to offer than his tragic portrayal in Veilguard. Maybe I don’t interact much with you, but I definitely wanted to let you know that without your posts, this illustrated story and in general, my content about Illario Dellamorte wouldn’t exist. You introduced me to my new favorite character, thank you so much!

And again, thanks to EVERYONE who has ever interacted with my work and with me as a person! Who has liked my art, fanfics, whatever! I hope you can now enjoy having this book that I give you with so much, so much happiness and love!

[whenmemorydies]

The Bear Fanfic Recs

If anyone’s interested in some recs to tide you over before season 4 starts, here are some of my fav fanfics for The Bear; stuff I’ve been back to reread multiple times. Also if you're into music while reading, I've chucked in a song rec for each fic.

I'm not a very quick reader and I know The Bear fandom has some of the most talented fanfic authors around so there are going to be heaps of fantastic stories that are not on this list. This is entirely bc I just haven't been able to read them as yet! I’m always on the hunt for more fic to read so pls share if you have any recommendations!

Fair warning, these are all Sydcarmy and almost all rated E.

The Wild, Wild Berry by Blissymbolics

* Literally altered my brain chemistry when I read it. Juicy codependent angst, sensuously written and a Syd that is so dear to me. Song rec while reading: "Heat Lightning" by Mitski

Fundamentals for the Fun and Mental by @bioloyg

* Beautifully written slow burn with the sexiest of endings. Also one of the truest depictions of all the characters on the show I’ve read yet. Song rec while reading: "Pendulum" by FKA Twigs

Child with a child pretending by @emilybrontay

* Sydney rejoins the workforce as a single mum and Carmy is her boss. Written with so much care. Contains the most affecting rewrite of the events of 1x07 The Review. Song rec while reading: "Coming Back" by James Blake feat. SZA

Soul meets body by @turbulenthandholding

* AU where Syd and Carmy are connected in more ways than one. This one is full of magic, angst, sweetness and sparks! The first fic I’ve read that has literally made me throw my phone cos of the suspense. Song rec while reading: "Hit Me Where the Heart Is" by Mega Simone

Nobody ever got my soul right by seh28

* Tender angst while Syd and Carmy travel for work. Features one of the most eye-opening insights into Syd's restlessness, delivered in the softest of scenes. Song rec while reading: "Trouble" by Ray LaMontagne

All This Nothing (Has Meant More to Me Than So Many Somethings) by @turbulenthandholding

* This fic was a GIFT during the end of 2024. You've Got Mail x The Bear. I was kicking my feet and squee-ing on public transport with this one. Song rec while reading: "Unknown/Nth" by Hozier

Eating for Two by Blissymbolics

* Laugh out loud funny with the sweetest end. A comedy of errors and a food baby named Vindaloo. Song rec while reading: "Home" by Good Neighbours

We were perfect when we started, I've been wondering where we've gone by @freedelusionshere

* If season 4 doesn't give me my urban farm dream for The Bear crew, then this fic did. The warmest, sultriest fix-it for the end of season 3. Song rec while reading: "Work Song" by Hozier.

Like UPS? by @sutherlins

* The most meta story where the Sydcarmy fire gets set off by...fanfic. Equal parts hilarious and sexy. Song rec while reading: "Rush" by Ayra Starr

Don't Wait for the Tide Just to Dip Both Your Feet In by @anxietycroissant

* My fav The Bear sickfic. I don't know how, but this one makes COVID symptoms sexy lmao. Song rec while reading: "People, I've been sad" by Christine and the Queens

Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian by @poorlittlegreenie13

* The Bear x Buffalo 66. Funny, tender, hot and some of the best Syd x Berzatto/Jerimovich family exchanges I've had the pleasure of reading. Song rec while reading: "Two of Us on the Run" by Lucius

Not Friends, Few Benefits by smudged_mascara

* If Syd and Carmy were to become friends with benefits, this is the most realistic depiction of it I can imagine, from its unspoken start to glorious finish. Song rec while reading: "Waiting Game" by BANKS

The Unspeakable Four by @ambeauty

* Delicious chocolate box of an AU fic. Syd and Carmy have a kid and their professional paths diverge. Syd wants to work smarter to provide for her baby. Carmy has to navigate shifting professional and personal roles. Features the sweetest father-son relationship between Carmy and Emmanuel. Song rec while reading: "All Night" by Beyonce

a curious token (would the talkers be talking?) by @sydneys-adamu

* @sydneys-adamu/puzzlepuppy is brilliant at nailing the voices of each character on this show and this is a masterclass in playing with the form of a standard Sydcarmy fic. Song rec while reading: "Last Train Home" by John Mayer

Take Care by @purposechef

* anything by @purposechef/Oysterknife is gold but Take Care gave me the Before Sunrise x The Bear crossover I never thought I needed. Song rec while reading: "Love" by FACESOUL.

Happy reading!

[interact-if]

Our fourth edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Becky (@losergames)!

(I’ve been in awe of Becky’s multi-talents (art, writing, coding, excuse me??) for a long time now, and am super excited to get to interview her and introduce her awesome game, Chop Shop! The portion on morality and finding a middle-ground between harmful stereotypes of “bad” POC characters and angelic, one-dimensional ones who can do no wrong was a really interesting and insightful take.)

Author: Becky

Hello hello!!! I’m Becky! I am a black bisexual woman from the UK, lover of games, TV and food. I have a Bachelor's degree in Animation & Visual Effects and currently work as a technician at a college 😁

Games: Chop Shop (crime, action, LGBTQ+, meaningful choices)

Short blurb: A crime action interactive fiction game.

Quote from the interview

There are a few main themes I keep in mind about when writing Chop Shop but the big one I think everyone understands is morality. What is right and wrong, and the various shades of grey in between, has been written about a thousand times in a thousand ways but it is continuously interesting to me in a changing world. What does it mean to be a bad person doing good things and a good person doing bad things? Is there a chance for redemption? What are the consequences? Race and class are also massive factors, made all the more complicated when we’re looking at sets of characters on either side of the PC’s life. I want to write black and other characters of colour make bad, questionable, and unredeemable decisions whilst also remaining aware of stereotypes and archetypes. I want them to be loud, messy, and rude, attributes that are always attached to minorities, but I also want them to be smart, calculating, and deceptive. I think a lot of people are scared to do so and we end up with plain, can-do-no-wrongers that lack any depth.

Read on for the full interview!

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

I am currently working on the crime action interactive fiction Chop Shop. There are a mix of inspirations that went into Chop Shop but above all else I’d say the kicker was my circumstances at the time.

During covid I walked away from the WORST job I’ve ever had and moved back home, which I realised a while after was an extremely huge blessing. I had a major burnout and was processing what my ex-managers had put me and my colleagues through. So, in my freetime I was playing a lot of cyoa/ romance games (shoutout Love Island the game) and found a whole fandom that also enjoyed them. 

I made some friends, did art commissions, and wrote some fanfic here and there, yadda yadda. A close friend recommended I try out a very popular COG game at the time (🧛) and it all spiraled from there. I fell in love with the format, endless creativity, and community and never looked back.

I loved the Need For Speed games as a kid, the og Most Wanted, Carbon, and Underground 2 are, in my eyes, amongst the masterpieces of games from the 2000s. It got to the point I was going over to friends houses just to play on their PS2 lmao. I am also a Fast and Furious fiend (shock) and I will defend that god awful series till I die. Fast forward to being a teenager/ young adult I’ve become a massive fan of fictional crime shows. Breaking Bad will always be my first love, but I also love The Sopranos, Fargo, The Wire and more.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

The real catalyst for Chop Shop was my previous job. A lot of the PC’s experiences are based off my own. A few examples I love sharing are how I had to make breakfast for my boss every morning and had to keep the office freezer stocked with a specific supermarket ice lolly because he ‘needed’ one every day at 3pm. I truly wish I was making this up because people think I’m crazy when I tell them. But I really was catering to a man-child because I was desperately trying to get my foot into a creative industry. Woof!!!

That said, the industry I wanted to work in was and still is extremely competitive. I came out of uni with a tonne of friends, but also a tonne of competition. It stung very badly to see my peers excel and surpass me when it came to careers but that’s just a part of becoming an adult. That life really was not for me and I’m glad I’m out of it now.

My mother is an extremely influential person in my life. Bits and pieces of her stick with me, not just in my writing but my every day. She’s worked in corporate all her life, from the early 80s and still to this day. She laughs about it now but she tells stories about the times she was laughed out of meetings or undermined by subordinates because she was a black woman in positions that were not occupied by minorities. It hurts to think about but I can only dream of having the type of strength she does.

Now that I think about it, Chop Shop is a massive fuck you to the past.

Are there any specific themes or messages you hope players take away from your work?

There are a few main themes I keep in mind about when writing Chop Shop but the big one I think everyone understands is morality. What is right and wrong, and the various shades of grey in between, has been written about a thousand times in a thousand ways but it is continuously interesting to me in a changing world. What does it mean to be a bad person doing good things and a good person doing bad things? Is there a chance for redemption? What are the consequences?

Race and class are also massive factors, made all the more complicated when we’re looking at sets of characters on either side of the PC’s life. I want to write black and other characters of colour make bad, questionable, and unredeemable decisions whilst also remaining aware of stereotypes and archetypes. I want them to be loud, messy, and rude, attributes that are always attached to minorities, but I also want them to be smart, calculating, and deceptive. I think a lot of people are scared to do so and we end up with plain, can-do-no-wrongers that lack any depth.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

I write way better outside of my bedroom. I know writing is supposed to be fun and a hobby but sometimes it’s… not. If I get stressed out in my room, it’s all a mess. The brain needs to be away from where I sleep to get work done. Last summer, when all the teachers were on holiday time, I was the only one in my department for weeks and it was the best writing stint I ever had haha.

Oh and I keep a huge spreadsheet. All the episode breakdowns, outlines, character details etc. It looks insane to anyone else but it is my prized baby.

Do you have favourite interactive fiction games, characters, scenes or authors that you’d like to recommend?

My goto game rec is always 180 Files: The Aegis Project. So quick and punchy, more narrative/plot than romance focused. The action sequences are fun and the interactions are so delicious, ugh. I love it. I’ve played it at least 20 times to get the different endings and it’s never not satisfying, just… chefs kiss. I’m also really enjoying Thicker Than right now AAHHH I NEED TO CATCH UP!!! 

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

Not anything specific but I do have some books I’d like to recommend to my fellow black readers:

The Psychosis of Whiteness: Surviving the Insanity of a Racist World by Nicola Rollock

Black Skin, White Masks by Franz Fanon

The Strangers: Five Extraordinary Black Men and the Worlds That Made Them by Ekow Eshun

Black England: A Forgotten Georgian History by Gretchen Gerzina

The Hard Road To Renewal by Stuart Hall

Honestly I’d recommend anything by Stuart Hall lmao. RIP king, you would be shocked at the media literacy today.

This-or-that segment: (bold = Becky's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Becky’s custom “either-or” pairing: Driver or passenger?

[liverbiver9]

The more I read danmei in my monthly book club that I otherwise wouldn’t have read or even known about, the more it becomes painfully clear that most of the mdzs fandom (and possibly the other 2 mxtx fandoms but I’m not as well versed with them) have not interacted with the genre at large beyond mxtx, and it shows in the meta analysis people make (especially westerners).

And I am not excluding myself here! So much of my initial assumptions and interpretations of mdzs has changed after reading other danmei authors, especifically the less western-internet-popular ones.

My point is this: when reading a book from a culture that is not your own and in an unfamiliar genre, it will be impossible to grasp all the intricacies and subtleties nestled within the narrative and characterization until you’ve become more familiar with the culture and genre itself.

Don’t limit yourself to mxtx. There are more and more danmei being translated into English by publishing houses and even more are fan translated.

If you’re looking for a place to start, I have some recommendations!

1. Golden Terrace by Cang Wu Bin Bai.

Literally one of my favorite books I’ve ever read in my life, and I’m an English major. It is only 2 books and both are already published, so you won’t have to wait. The most tender, loving relationship I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading about. The translation is phenomenal, and it feels very similar to Jane Austen in its diction, plot, and characterization. I literally cannot explain with words how much I love this book.

2. To Rule in a Turbulent World by Gu Xue Rou

This series is just being translated and published, so it may take a while for the other books (I think 3-4?) will be out, but don’t let that scare you away! Without too much spoilers, the vibes of this first book reminds me of Harvest Moon games. Also a very sweet and tender main couple. Plus, this book is written by a male author!! Pretty rare in danmei, at least to my knowledge.

3. Thousand Autumns by Qian Qiu

Pretty dense with lots of philosophy, poetry references, and a more traditional wuxia world. This series is finished with 5 books in total. I had a hard time reading the first book, mostly because I didn’t connect that much with the mc at first, but I loved the world building and all the information I learned. I did eventually start connecting with the mc and ended the series fully besotted! Not a quick or easy read, but a worthwhile one.

4. Ballad of Sword and Wine by Tang Jiu Qing

The first book is out for this series, with the second being published later this month. It’s going to be a long one like tcgf, so it is a commitment read—but absolutely worth it!! Lots of palace politics and more Taoist-focused martial arts (think Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon). It is both fast and slow burn (I know that doesn’t make sense now; trust me, it will later on) and the main character is SO FASCINATING!! I want to study him like a bug. The overall characterization is phenomenal. The cast can be… intimidating, as there are a LOT of named characters, but they’re mostly there for world building (and the world building is fantastic!). Also, the translation here is GORGEOUS. You can tell it was translated by a writer, or at least someone who’s read the whole text (you’d be surprised…)—everything is so vivid!

[actiniumwrites]

kiss me (not)

synopsis: how they’d react when you dodge/ wipe off their kisses for a day as a prank

characters: gaming, kujou sara, heizou, tighnari, cyno, kaveh, and lyney x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, some humor, established relationships, etc

notes: i love this prompt so much omg. i’ve read a lot of fics other people have written for different fandoms and i’m actually shocked i haven’t written it before considering i eat it up every time (especially when there’s some angst 🫠)

gaming:

the first time he sees you wipe off his kiss, something in him dies a little, especially when you don’t say anything after he asks if you’re okay

so he starts doubting himself and compensating for where he may went wrong

maybe he had bad breath? or you weren’t having a good day today?

he hates that he doesn’t know what he did wrong, and even worse, why you keep doing it throughout the day

you only stop when you see the way he genuinely starts beating himself up over it, deciding it wasn’t funny anymore and honestly never was

“it was a prank,” you nudge him softly, regret overflowing from your voice, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. i shouldn’t have kept it going for so long.”

a relieved breathe and a small smile from him follow right after. you can tell he’s still a bit stuck on the whole thing, but deep down, he’s just grateful he didn’t screw up somewhere because there’s no way in hell gaming would ever let himself lose you

“it’s okay,” he breathes out, clutching your hand a little tighter than usual, “just please, don’t do it again, okay?”

kujou sara:

to say she’s confused is an understatement

she’ll immediately backtrack to make sure she actually just saw that correctly. did you really just wipe off her kiss?

so she goes in for another one, and sure enough, you dodge her this time and send her a quick goodbye before slipping out of the house and running off to work

it legitimately ruins her whole day. she can’t even function at work because it’s all she can think about

and by the time she’s home at night, she’s already tired and just wants you but she’s also too afraid that maybe she did something to upset you

fortunately for her, you spare her of the prank knowing your girlfriend well enough to know that the second she walks through the door she had a shitty day

so you apologize and tell her it was just a prank and you didn’t mean any harm

and she wants to be so mad at you for it, but literally can’t no matter how hard she tries so instead she just gives in and gets the kiss she’s been thinking about all day

heizou:

he realizes right away what you’re doing and finds it rather amusing

so he’ll play along too, not trying to kiss you at all and even going a step further and not showing you any sort of physical attention

try to hold his hand? not happening. hugging him? not a chance

and it ends up becoming a competition, because what can you say? you’re both competitive people

goes on until the end of the day and only ends when you’re both too tired to keep it up

“you’re no fun, you know?” you poke his chest as you tiredly lean against him

he smiles down at you, “how so? i let you play your little pranks, didn’t i? i even played along.”

you just scoff and scoot away, tucking yourself into the warm blankets and ignoring his teasing

but then he’ll grab you and pull you into his chest, giving into you, “fine. next time i’ll give you the reaction you want. happy now?”

tighnari:

the opposite of heizou: he’s very unamused, and is very aware of what’s going on.

as soon as you back away from him after he tries to kiss you, his face falls into a deadpan and he crosses his arms menacingly

“i’ll have you know i don’t find pranks like these very funny,” he’ll immediately tell you off, not wanting to act so childishly when it comes to affection

tighnari cares a lot about people, whether he shows it or not, so to have you pretend to dodge it upsets him — even if it is meant to be a mere lighthearted prank

so you apologize instantly, feeling a little bad over the whole ordeal, “it’s just a prank, you know? i thought it would be funny to see how you’d react.”

definitely the kind of person to feel a little bashful and guilty for overreacting over something so silly, but also doesn’t want to admit it

so he’ll just silently kiss you and act like nothing happened, secretly hoping you’ll never try to pull something like that again

cyno:

at first, he thinks it’s kinda funny since he always plays jokes. however, i think he’s similar to tighnari in the sense that he also takes a little offense to it

like, he knows it’s a joke, but he just can’t help feeling a little hurt over it

“is something the matter?” he’ll ask while you’re both on the way to meet with friends. you shake your head no, fighting a smile

defeatedly, he leaves it at that, knowing you won’t budge. he’ll feel miserable the entire time and won’t stop thinking about how you won’t give the prank up, even in front of your friends

and when you both leave for the night, he crosses his arms and confronts you as you both walk home, “it isn’t funny.”

“what isn’t funny?”

“your prank. it isn’t funny. i don’t like the way you’re avoiding kissing me,” he says bluntly. it makes your heart sink into your stomach a bit, admittedly starting to feel a bit bad

so you apologize and work everything out, telling him you got the idea from alhaitham who was curious to see how he’d react in a situation like that — that, and he felt like pissing cyno off for a day, but you didn’t need to know that part

he’ll get frustrated, but is glad it’s all settled. he’ll also be extra affectionate throughout the next week, feeling as if he somehow lost time with you

kaveh:

gets so offended omg he will literally hate you

the first time you do it, his jaw drops to the floor and he calls you out on it immediately

“what was that?” he points an accusatory finger at you

you bite back a smile and feign innocence, “huh? what are you talking about?”

will not let you leave for the day until you drop the act and properly return his kiss

when you continue to go on with the prank, however, he’ll start to get all pouty and just ask you to kiss him

and he just looks so cute that you cup his face and give him a big fat kiss and walk out the door immediately after without a word and a big smile on your face, satisfied with his reaction

lyney:

he gets so dramatic about it it’s not even funny

will literally clutch his chest and fall to the ground in public so that you stop him

when you don’t and you let him face public humiliation (because you find it funny too), he stops himself and gets back up

follows you around like a lost puppy all day and will constantly try to sneak in a kiss while you’re caught of guard, but you never fall for it and he gets so much more frustrated each and every time

then he begs lynette and freminet to help him, except they think it’s funny too seeing how whipped he is for you

and he knows it’s a prank too, but the fact that you won’t break makes him so lovingly annoyed with you

you don’t stop until lynette genuinely intervenes, complaining about how annoying lyney had gotten throughout the day, “please end his suffering already. you know my brother is an idiot who doesn’t shut up and i’ve had enough of him today.”

you laugh it off, but ultimately agree

so you go and find him, which wasn’t that hard, and tap him on the shoulder before planting a gentle kiss to his lips, “sorry for pranking you. it was just too funny of an opportunity to pass up.”

“you’re so mean to me,” he’ll complain, but will then continue to kiss you so often that you’re now the annoyed one instead

[rosieyart]

What did you think about v3 ending? Personally I like it but there is a clear division in the fandom about it, so I'm curious about your thoughts

hmm for me this is somewhat a tough question. when i first completed the game, i was admittedly slightly disappointed and felt unsatisfied. i felt like the twist at the end came out of nowhere and the whole “no one is real,” to me, felt like it invalidated the characters from the other two (three, technically) games. as someone who has a soft spot for the d2 cast, it hurt a bit knowing their struggle and fight for survival — esp the efforts hinata and the others went through to wake everyone up from the neo world program — were invalidated. it didn’t matter anymore. which, granted, these are fictional characters and technically none of their struggles were real to begin with, but i think the whole “yeah these characters don’t even exist canonically within their own game universe” was so weird and hard to wrap my head around.

however, i have since changed my mind. if i’m being so fr, coming to understand ousai/saiou has honestly helped me understand v3 as a whole a bit more. that, on top of also just sitting with my feelings for a couple of months now.

i genuinely don’t mind the v3 ending, for more reasons that one. it’s not a perfect masterpiece, but deserves kudos. firstly, it’s a nice commentary imo on the concept of violence being used as entertainment. here we are, players and audiences to a game about students — children, really — killing themselves. there’s this sick fascination we as society have had towards media like that, whether it be via books, tv/movies, or video games. we are confronted with how sick and twisted it really is when saihara and gang realize the truth. people are watching them. and it’s not us, granted, but fictional people within the dr universe, but the point still stands. we are watching people kill and be killed. and we enjoy it.

this is why i don’t think there will ever be another danganronpa game. i love those games dearly — they’re so ass and so peak at the same time. but the message for v3 was clear: we’re putting an end to danganronpa. which is both sad (no dr4 ☹️) but also it’s waving in your face “hey, hey, pay attention! violence shouldn’t be glorified like this!!!”

but back to what i was saying about saiou helping me determine my feelings on the ending. if you’ve read my saiou analysis, then you know i really enjoy the whole truths vs lies theme for v3. it not only serves as a fun dynamic between saihara and ouma (and also just saihara and the game in general) but also engages the audience to think about truths and lies. in chap. 6, saihara, harukawa, and yumeno all have a mental breakdown over the fact nothing of what they knew was real to begin with — not their memories, not their personalities, not their characters. but… you can’t really fake your emotions. sure, maybe maki was written to fall in love with kaito, but does that really invalidate her feelings? she felt something, didn’t she? she cared, didn’t she? yeah, it’s sick and twisted to think someone manipulated her to feel that way, but the fact she felt such a strong emotion nonetheless doesn’t make her emotions and feelings unreal. at least, i don’t think so. and the creators of v3 agree. their message, as far as i’ve deduced, is that no matter what’s real and what’s fake, you ultimately choose your own truth to live by. shuichi’s past was overwritten by his new personality that was horrified at learning what danganronpa truly was. but he took this, despite the pain and horror, and claimed it as his own. despite everything, he is still saihara shuichi. there are lies sprinkled in there, but there are also truths.

if everyone agrees that the sky is blue, that is a universal truth. the same logic can be applied to lies. so, if everyone universally agrees the sky is green, that is also a truth. except — the sky is not green. not unless we want it to be. we as a society mold and bend truths and lies to make our reality clearer to ourselves. to help us understand the world we live in. but how do we know for sure what is real and what isn’t? is the sky really blue, just because everyone says so? perhaps we have been lying to ourselves the entire time.

tldr: this is why i think i’m satisfied, in the end, with the v3 conclusion. it not only confronts the audience with the sick and twisted reality of violence being used as entertainment, but additionally leaves us to dwell on themes of lies and truths. of choosing our own reality to live by and choosing what kind of person we want to be. because in the end, who truly decides whats real and what’s fake? you may not have the power to change the public’s opinion on what color the sky is, but you can certainly decide who you want to be and build the most truthful, honest version of yourself.

[emeryhall]

Thank you @run-for-chamo-miles for the tag!

In 2024, I posted 9 fics totaling 339,207 words, which is fucking batshit even if some of those words were written in 2023. My most popular fic in terms of kudos is arsonist Baz and firefighter Simon 🔥. But in terms of bookmarks, it's Blood Sugar Sex Moony (wolfstar), which includes my favorite bookmark ever ⬇️

Fics listed below the cut, plus a heartfelt PSA ❤️

January

Blood Sugar Sex Moony (wolfstar, E, 63.6K)

A vengeance-fueled, Buffy-inspired, 90s high school AU with a 17-person body count, featuring amazing art by @spikesteaseasalt.

A Little Bit Deadly (snowbaz, E, 48.9K)

New York City firefighter Simon Snow mistakenly downloads Grindr instead of Tinder and falls for British arsonist Baz Pitch. Featuring DEREK JETER and the most heart-warming art by @letraspal.

March

The Tale of a Magic-Sucking Hoover and a Rat-Drinking Monster (snowbaz, E, 38.7K)

Ghost mums, sentient buildings, and sex toys. Oh my!

June

Only Creatures (snowbaz, E, 88K)

Sad poet Baz Pitch and dragon camboy Simon Snow. Featuring Baz's beard, the hybrid-creatures camming site, OnlyCreatures, and a cameo by Taylor Swift, as well as absolutely gorgeous art by @artsyunderstudy.

October

Sidney Snow Grimm-Pitch (snowbaz, M, 43.7K)

My delightful collaboration with @artsyunderstudy, and a gift for @cutestkilla whose fic What's Left inspired this getting together later in life mpreg. Yes, mpreg.

whatever beats beneath (firstprince, E, 5.1K)

My foray into the RWRB fandom, when I thought I was writing an omarashi fic for a Kinktober prompt, but instead wrote an exploration of grief.

November

Pink Salt (Saltburn, E, 23.1K)

Sometimes the greatest love story is between an undead baker and the man who didn't realize he was a necromancer when he fucked his grave.

Bound Together in Five Dimensions (snowbaz, E, WIP, 4.7K and growing)

My CORB collab with @stardustasincocaine! I won't say anymore because we're posting the next chapter very, very soon 🩷

December

Out of the Game (firstprince, E, WIP, 23.9K and growing)

Another RWRB, this time scratching my itch to write in the detective/spy thriller genre. In the spirit of the Will Darling Adventures, and featuring truly inspired literary works by Henry, and an Alex who is perhaps not to be trusted. But then again, maybe Henry needs a little chaos in his life.

And finally, a PSA, written as much as a reminder to myself, as to anyone else who feels like their writing doesn't quite fit anywhere:

When I posted my first fanfic (wolfstar), no one read me. We’re talking like four kudos in a fandom where fics go viral. And at some point I thought, maybe I should attempt to write things that people actually want to read? 

I love writing deeply romantic stories, but I love stories like True Romance or The Shape of Water. Two people who are perfect for each other, but one is mute and the other is a fish god from Brazil. One stabs Tony Soprano in the foot with a corkscrew and the other communicates with an hallucination of Elvis. 

Finally, I found the Carry On fandom who enthusiastically embraced my Baz who excelled "at both deep-throating cock and scorching motherfuckers like a vengeance demon in floral Tom Ford." And then finally, finally, almost a year after it posted, people in the wolfstar fandom started reading Blood Sugar Sex Moony. Now, almost every day, I get kudos and (sometimes delightfully unhinged) comments on my wolfstar too. 

I don’t imagine I’ll ever be really, really popular, but I’ve found a group of readers — or they’ve found me — who appreciate the way my brain works, and little old high school me, who always believed that the best love stories are the strangest ones, knows that they are not alone. 

So my PSA to everyone out there who feels like Nora Ephron trapped in David Lynch trapped in Wes Craven — or whatever your unmarketable combo may be — keep on doing you. One day you will find your people 🩷

Also, thank you to everyone who read, kudos-ed, and commented on my fics, and a special shout out to all of the wonderful friends I've made in the Carry On fandom. Y'all have brightened my 2024.

And now, tags!

@bookish-bogwitch @monbons @roomwithanopenfire @fiend-for-culture @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@thewholelemon @mooncello @iamamythologicalcreature @rimeswithpurple @orange-peony

@messofthejess @alexalexinii @best--dress @ileadacharmedlife @ic3que3n

@hushed-chorus @rbkzz @noblecorgi @facewithoutheart @larkral

@euripidestrousers @r33sespieces @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @letraspal

Plus anyone who wants to play. (I imagine this can be done for art too. Or dolls!)

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[simplysamiblog]

The weight of a perfect goodbye

Before I even begin sharing my thoughts, I need to make one very important thing clear: I am a firm believer in the theory that Jayce and Viktor survived the ending of Arcane. As far as I’m concerned, they were teleported through time and space and are now slowly, painstakingly rebuilding their lives. Together, of course.

I’ve read dozens of (amazing) fanfics where this is exactly how their story unfolds, and some are so well-written that I honestly consider them canon.

That said.

I’ve seen several discussions online about this very topic:

"The creators confirmed it: they’re dead."

"The creators don’t know anything, they’re alive."

"Accept it, they were disintegrated by the Rune."

And so on.

But here’s what I think (not that it matters to anyone or carries any weight at all):

We can’t completely dismiss or outright reject the idea that, yes, Jayce and Viktor are, unfortunately, dead. At some level, we need to accept it—to believe it.

But let me explain why.

Not out of respect for the creators, the canon, the fandom, or anything like that. But out of love for the story, for the essence of their narrative.

At the risk of sounding cliché, do you really think Arcane would have been just as special if Jayce and Viktor had survived? Can you picture the scene? The protagonists recover, the fog of war and chaos clears, and there they are—Jayce and Viktor—standing atop the Hexgates, smiling. Ah, what a happy ending. What a good ending.

Sure. Nice. Nothing more.

Or imagine if we had gotten something like: "And they remained like brothers forever." Ugh.

It’s cruel, it’s unfair, it’s heartbreaking—

But it’s perfect.

The chain of events (cough) that led to that moment, the sacrifice that sealed their fate—

The relationship between Jayce and Viktor would never have been as impactful otherwise. Personally, I don’t think I fully grasped the depth of their bond until their foreheads rested against each other. In that moment of resignation, of acceptance.

Their story, their magic, was beautiful precisely because it ended right then, in that instant.

Jayce asked Viktor, "Why did you ever give me this?"

He could have let him die in the storm. Or, if he wanted to be more merciful, he could have simply saved him without giving him the Rune—

The world would have been safe. The world would have been saved.

But…

The world wasn’t as important as the moments they shared. Their friendship, their collaboration, their bond.

Viktor couldn’t deny another Viktor those moments. That brief but immense joy. Those years in which he had truly lived.

They were stronger than everything—stronger than everyone—

Even stronger than death.

And that’s why, in a way, their death is precisely what makes them so wonderful.

Call it cliché or a bit of a stretch, but the first comparison that comes to mind is Romeo and Juliet. Would it really be the most famous love story if they hadn’t met their tragic end?

"Happily ever after."

Or—

"Never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Sure, they might have survived, somewhere. And it’s absolutely valid to believe that.

But if not for that ending, for that terrible, heartbreaking moment, how much would we have missed out on? How many incredible fanfictions wouldn’t exist? How many fanarts, how many works of art would we have been unknowingly deprived of?

We’ll never know, and I don’t want to know.

Because what we have is amazing.

So yes, I accept the idea that they’re dead—because it makes the fantasy that they’re alive and in love so much sweeter.

But most of all, it makes their relationship a game of fate, something they built around each other. A perfect circle, an inseparable chain binding them as one.

Pulling them together, pushing them apart—only to bring them back to each other again.

Over and over.

Forever.

[uncreativeuser27]

22 hours later lmao (my longest drawing ever)…

This is based on a K2 idea I’ve had a while, but only seen written once or twice (I think)

For an idea that came out of nowhere, I sure do have a lot to say about it lmao. Please show any appreciation you have with comments, likes, reblogs, ANYTHING. I BEG of you, I have no one to show this to in real life, and I’m scared of strangers in the internet /hj /lh

More information and ranting under the cut if you want to hear a sad, pathetic artist out /j

Basically, it’s how they decide to close off their roleplay game: with a wedding to unite the two kingdoms! That wedding being between King Kyle and Princess Kenny. I imagine they tweaked the story as they got older (yes, they’re older in this drawing, if you can’t tell from their designs and Stan’s blond hair. They’re nothing that pisses this fandom off more than shipping children when they’re children lmao /hj)

Small headcanon for a high school AU: They end up doing a lot of tabletop roleplay (like their own spin on DnD), for big events like this, they will go back to their roots of LARPing.

I had an idea while drawing it that Stan and Cartman formed a bet about if Kyle would actually kiss Kenny or not. The concept is based on the idea that Kyle has a crush on Kenny and Stan thinks it would be a perfectly romantic way to confess, but Cartman thinks it would be too gay and that Kyle would never ruin something like that. I’ve been watching the show starting from the first season, and I remembered how much Cartman would go through to win a bet (and also how many bets were formed, which was a surprising amount), so it seemed fitting

Stan wins the bet. Obviously.

I just haven’t figured out how I’d want to write it, so I might write something if I can flesh it out well enough.

A few drawing comments about this, uhh. I totally traced the gazebo lmao. I found a random photograph of a gazebo that looked like they were selling it, and I tried to free hand it, but after an hour, I just gave up and traced it. Don’t hate me, please. I promise I’m not a fraud. I just suck at perspective and backgrounds :’) it’s also my second drawing with a genuine background (that isn’t abstract or barely detailed). Also, the sunset was such a last minute decision. The sky was supposed to be blue, but that felt boring, and I LOVE dramatic lighting

I think that’s all. Please tell me about my art. This took forever, and I have 0 friends that I can show this to in real life without getting weird looks, so if you have any thoughts at all, you can tell me. I’m on my virtual hands and KNEES /hj

(Yes, Kenny’s wig fell off)

[prettygirl-gabi]

“To the Moon and Beyond” pt.3

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd x Reader (Pazzi x Reader)

Fandom: NCAA Women’s Basketball / WNBA

Warnings: cheating, revenge cheating, eventually in later parts there will be 18+ content (smut, alcohol consumption, strong language), polyamory, public teasing/flirting (in later parts)

Summary: A tangled history of love, heartbreak, and hidden desire leads three elite players into a secret relationship—and the WNBA spotlight.

A/N: yes this is hella long… I got in a groove and couldn’t stop writing… but yeahh enjoy!! This is also one of the longest fics I’ve ever written… will be multiple parts….cause it’s too long for tumblr…

Also thank you @paige05bby for the banner/header

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @alwaysobsessedwithwbb

The morning sun filters through the curtains in warm streaks, slicing golden light across the hotel suite like it’s trying to hold us in this moment a little longer.

Azzi’s still asleep, curled into Paige’s empty side of the bed, hood up over her curls, one hand tucked under her cheek like she’s holding on to a dream.

Paige and I wake before the alarms. We always do on big days.

There’s no talking at first—just movement, quiet and familiar. I stretch. Paige yawns. She slides out of bed, glances back at me with a soft, crooked grin, and reaches her hand out without saying a word.

I take it.

The water is already warm by the time we step into the shower. Steam rises around us like a curtain. It’s not about sex—it hasn’t been, not in a long time.

It’s about softness. About care. About the hundreds of mornings like this one, where we didn’t need words to say what we felt.

I wash her back first, fingers tracing over old bruises, familiar scars. I work the shampoo into her hair and she tips her head back, trusting. Her eyes flutter closed.

When it’s my turn, she’s even gentler. Paige’s fingers card through my hair, nails scratching my scalp just enough to make me lean into her. Her hands find my shoulders, then my ribs. She kisses my temple, then the tip of my nose.

“You ready?” she whispers.

“No,” I murmur. “But I’m glad it’s you next to me.”

When we step out, Azzi’s still asleep—though she’s shifted now, arms wrapped around one of Paige’s pillows, like her body knows what her heart won’t say out loud yet.

We towel off quietly, get dressed. By the time the suite starts buzzing with stylists and cameras and texts from agents, we’ve buried that moment in the quiet part of ourselves again.

But it lingers. Like steam on a mirror. Like a promise we’re still too scared to say out loud.

Brittany is now floating around the suite, one AirPod in, one hand fixing Azzi’s necklace while the other tosses my hairstylist a hair touch-up kit that was to far out of reach. Her voice is calm, surgical — but she’s in the zone, flitting between the three of us like a runway coach with a game plan…

“Okay, Azzi, baby, your dress is zipped. Hair’s laid. You’re a vision.”

Azzi spins slowly in front of the mirror, her long black dress hugging her like it was sewn in silence by angels. Her earrings sparkle, catching the low light of the suite, and for a second I just… stare.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” I say honestly.

She turns, smiling — soft and warm and knowing. “You only say that when Paige isn’t looking.”

I grin. “No. I say it more when Paige isn’t looking.”

From across the room, Paige snorts. She’s perched on the arm of a chair, half-dressed in her first look — the custom Coach suit that makes her look like a films fever dream. Classic, but sharp. Her hair and makeup half finished, and somehow, she still looks like she owns the building.

“Whatever,” Paige says, smirking as she meets my eyes in the mirror. “Y’all act like I’m chopped liver.”

“You’re like… foie gras,” I tease, walking over to let her pick out my earrings to go with my first look. “Fancy. Expensive. A little controversial.”

Azzi laughs as she leans toward the mirror, applying her lip gloss with steady precision. “If y’all start kissing while I’m putting on this glass bomb, I’m leaving this suite. Deadass.”

“You literally watched me contour Paige’s jawline with my thigh like three weeks ago,” I say, not looking up as I finish the last curl on my left side.

Azzi doesn’t flinch. “Different context,” she mutters, smacking her lips together to smooth the shine. “That was preseason. This is glam season. There’s a difference. One had soft lighting and a full-body mirror. This has E! News updates and potential Getty images.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Paige chimes in from behind me, already in her first look and scrolling casually through her texts. “Besides, if she kisses me right now, my lip liner’s gonna survive. Can’t say the same for yours.”

Azzi turns, pointing the lip gloss wand at her like a dagger. “Try me. I’m wearing Hot Chocolit. I will end you.”

Next thing I knew it was my turn to get ready. Brittany coming to me with the biggest grin and unzipped the dress cover bag.

Carefully I slipped into the dress like I was stepping into a moment I’d been waiting for my whole life.

The black velvet corset hugged my torso, cinching me in tight, like it was built to hold all the nerves and excitement that came with being one of the big prospects for the WNBA draft pick.

The sweetheart neckline dipped just enough to make me feel bold, but not distracting—just powerful, grown, ready.

The skirt flowed from my waist in layers of matte black fabric, soft but sculpted, gathered into a dramatic bow on my hip. That bow felt like a final touch, like a ribbon on a gift I was about to give the world: me, at my best. The slit ran high up my thigh, and every time I took a step, I felt the cool air kiss my leg, grounding me in the present.

Brittany and I kept the heels simple—thin, black straps that didn’t fight for attention—and let the dress do the talking. But if you looked hard enough you could see the red at the bottom. My necklace though, that was a moment. Emeralds and diamonds, like little drops of confidence around my neck.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I didn’t just feel pretty. I felt unstoppable. Like the girl who grew up hooping on outdoor courts in worn-out sneakers had finally become the woman who deserved to take up space—bold, glamorous, and absolutely ready for the league. Azzi looks up and immediately pauses whatever she was typing.

“Jesus, baby” she breathes, standing. “You’re not real.”

I smirk and walk over to the vanity as I got a close look at my necklace and my earrings that matched. “Stop it.”

Behind me, there’s a soft shuffle of shoes on hotel floor.

Paige.

She’s finally done with hair and makeup—clean, lashes soft and fluttery, lip gloss barely there but devastating all the same.

She’s traded her usual hoodie and sweatpants for something sparkly, custom, and lethal. And still, she walks over like it’s just another morning.

Her eyes find mine in the mirror first, then trail down to the curve of my shoulder. Her hands slide around my waist from behind, fingers splaying just under the hem of my blazer.

“You look…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Just breathes it in.

She dips her head, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“You think they’ll let me sit at your table instead of my own if I begged?” she murmurs.

I smile but don’t answer. Not with Azzi and Brittany here.

Speaking of—

“You three are stupid hot,” Brittany says as she walks in holding a steamer and a lint roller like weapons. “Honestly? Power throuple behavior.”

Azzi snorts. “You been knew.”

Brittany shrugs. “I’m just saying — any color carpets should be paying you for the photo op.”

Paige wiggles her eyebrows. “So we’re charging per angle now?”

Brittany rolls her eyes but grins, then waves Azzi toward the mirror. “Okay, Azzi. It’s your moment. Hair’s perfect, and I brought both watches for you to pick.”

Azzi walks over and looks between the two — one sleek and delicate with a thin band, the other bold, diamond-encrusted with a heavy face. She looks torn.

“I don’t know which one’s the move,” she mumbles. “Big or small?”

I step up beside her, eyeing her full look in the mirror. The strapless black dress hugs her in all the right places, showing off her arms and collarbones, sleek and timeless — like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn with just the right amount of edge.

“Go with the smaller one,” I say, lifting it off the tray. “It compliments the look and adds to it at the same time.”

Azzi meets my eyes through the mirror, a smile ghosting on her lips. “Good call. You’ve got taste.”

“Obviously,” I say, glancing toward Paige.

Brittany sighs with affection. “God, I love y’all. Now go break hearts.”

We leave the hotel suite in shifts, like pros. Paige goes first.

Her Coach suit is the definition of tailored seduction — a fitted yet loose three-piece with flowy pants that move with elegance, a matching vest worn over nothing, her skin golden and glowing, and a blazer to top it off. She carries a black clutch and exits like she owns the damn planet.

Next is Azzi. She steps into the elevator like she’s about to shut it down. And she does. Her hair’s pressed out flowing as if it was silk, her earrings are statement without screaming, and her dress glides when she moves — confident, clean, unstoppable.

Finally, I step out. My heels click against the pavement. Brittany gives me one last fluff and an approving nod.

“Ten outta ten. No notes.”

At the orange carpet, Paige is already making headlines. Flashes go off in every direction as she stands poised, one hand in her pocket, the other adjusting her blazer like it’s a throne. Her eyes lock on me the second I arrive.

Azzi meets me halfway and tugs me in for a picture, her hand casually wrapped around my waist, Paige stepping in on the other side.

Three of us. Together. In sync, yet separate.

And the world has no idea.

We take the pictures—laughing, whispering between poses, Paige sneaking her hand down to brush against mine once when no cameras are aimed our way.

It’s flawless.

And it’s only just begun.

Once we step off the orange carpet and duck behind the divider curtain, the world behind us fades. Brittany claps loudly the moment she spots Paige and me, her headset swinging around her neck. Azzi is a few paces behind us, following a production assistant who’s offering to walk her to Paige’s table.

“Alright, you two, first look is done,” Brittany says, motioning like a coach calling in a timeout. “Time to change into your second fits before y’all go to your respective tables. Let’s go, move it, fashion waits for no one.”

We follow her down the hallway toward our private dressing room — a cozy little suite tucked backstage, draped in garment bags and flooded with soft, golden lights.

The moment the door shuts behind us, Brittany’s already unzipping my dress like she’s a pit crew in the final lap of the Indy 500.

Azzi’s POV

I wanted be backstage with them still. Should be watching Paige and Y/N pick out which rings sparkle most under the camera flash, laughing when Brittany scolds them for smudging lip gloss onto the collars of their second looks.

But instead—I’m already at the table.

Sitting between Amy and Bob, trying to ignore the way my knee keeps bouncing under the tablecloth.

Paige’s mom reaches out to pat my hand. “She looked so beautiful,” she says softly.

“She always does,” I murmur back.

My eyes scan the room—this glittering ballroom filled with nerves and history and too many lights. I do a few rounds, say hey to some of the other prospects. It helps me breathe. A little.

Eventually, I drift toward the section where our teammates are seated. Nika’s already throwing a peace sign toward the stage, Aaliyah with her biggest grin watching me approaching, Ice’s got her camera out, and KK’s cracking jokes like she’s on a mic. It feels like UConn even here. Home stitched into every seat.

But something’s still tugging.

Because I know that in a few minutes, Paige will be walking out under those lights. And right behind her… so will Y/N.

I don’t know if the world will ever see it—what we had. What we tried to build. What we never really stopped feeling.

But I know it.

And that’s enough to make this night burn a little brighter.

Y/n’s pov

Brittany had a look in her eye — the kind that said, this next dress is the one. She moved like a woman on a mission, holding the blush pink gown delicately in her arms like it was art.

“Okay,” she grinned, “time to give them something soft but unforgettable.”

I laughed nervously, the adrenaline from the first part of the night still humming beneath my skin. My palms were sweaty, but Paige’s were steady and cool as she reached for my hands.

“Here,” she said softly, fingers wrapping around mine, “I got you, lover girl.”

I held on tight as I stepped out of my first look. Paige didn’t let go, even when Brittany started easing the new dress over my hips. The fabric was cool, silky, and it slipped into place like a whispered secret. Paige’s hands found my waist for balance while I stepped into the blush pink heels Brittany passed me — delicate things with wraparound straps that matched the dress exactly.

The gown hugged me in all the right places. Ruching drew my waist in, the cowl neckline dipping low with soft elegance, while the high slit on my right leg made me feel like I could command the room with just one step.

I turned away from Paige and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the silver cross necklace Brittany fastened at my collarbone gleaming under the lights, and my breath caught.

“Damn, baby” Paige whispered behind me. “You’re… wow.”

I turned my head slightly, our eyes meeting the second I looked back. “You think this is too much?”

Paige shook her head slowly. “No. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Brittany smirked stepping away from me. “That’s the look. A whisper dipped in blush.”

The fabric is soft and dreamy, with delicate shade of pink that catches the light like stardust.

I slip on new earrings — small teardrop diamonds that dangle and dance with every turn of my head.

Paige pulling me into her body and lowers her head to mine. Our foreheads press together, a familiar gravity pulling us close.

“This feels real,” she whispers, breath warm against my lips. “Too real.”

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “Because it is.”

She nods, her thumb brushing against the dip in my back. “If I kiss you now…”

“Nope. No kissing. No lipstick smudging,” Brittany cuts in from the other side of the room, not even glancing up from steaming Paige’s second look — a stunning, all-black Louis Vuitton masterpiece that looks like it was tailored in the shadows of a Paris runway.

“You’re evil, Britt.” Paige mutters without letting go of me.

“I’m practical,” Brittany fires back. “Kiss her after the event. Or before the cameras come back. Not now. Not when I just fixed that lip line.”

I laugh, resting my head against Paige’s shoulder. “Rain check?”

She gives me a wink. “I’m collecting with interest.”

Ten Minutes Later

Brittany helps Paige step into her second look and honestly, I had so forgot how to breathe for a second.

She was already beautiful, but this? This was something else. The tailored black suit hugged every line of her frame like it was made by hand—and knowing Brittany, it was damn near close.

Beaded lapels shimmered subtly with each step she took, catching the light like stars on midnight fabric. The jacket was buttoned low, just enough to make it clear there was nothing underneath. No shirt. No bralette. Just skin and the kind of confidence only she could wear so naturally.

Her hair had now been pulled back loosely with Bobby pins, since her first look, strands flowing loosely, a soft beach like wave curls brushing past her collarbone. She looked powerful. Elegant. Dangerously calm.

“You like?” Paige asked, her voice soft but edged with mischief.

“Is that even a real question?” I breathed, still staring. “You look… insane.”

She grinned and turned slightly, pretending to check her profile in the full-length mirror—though I caught her watching me through the reflection instead. “Britt said I needed to bring out the ‘draft night closer energy.’ So.”

“Well, you just shut the whole show down,” I said, stepping toward her. I ran my hand down the lapel, feeling the intricate beadwork under my fingers, then rested my palm flat against her chest, just over her heart. “You’re gonna break the internet.”

She leaned in, just enough that her lips brushed my ear. “Good.”

Brittany made a noise of faux disgust behind us. “Okay, lovebirds, save the flirting for the after party. Let’s go.”

“I wish we were sitting together,” she says quietly, eyes flickering to mine.

I reach for her hand, squeezing once. “We’ll meet in the middle.”

Before we leave, she pulls me in again — a fast kiss, not long enough to ruin my makeup, just enough to say I’m yours.

I pull back slowly and look her up and down one last time this close in private space.

She smirks, stepping closer again, just cause she knew what she was doing. “You sure you can walk away from me after that kiss?”

“I’ll try.”

And we kiss again. Quick. Soft. Charged like every second matters. Her hand stays on my waist a beat too long.

When we pull back, she exhales. “Go. I’ll be down in a sec.”

I’m the first to walk back out. As I make my way through the venue, I spot Paige’s table near the center — her mom is mid-laugh, her dad standing behind his chair, and Azzi is already seated next to an open chair — Paige’s.

I walk up like I’ve done a dozen times before.

“Hi, Mama,” I smile, giving her a quick hug. “Hi, Mr. B.”

He pulls me into a warm hug. “Wow, you’re all grown up. I’m so proud of you, Y/n, I really am. You did great kiddo.”

They both beam like I’m family. Like I’ve always been.

Azzi stands to hug me, warm and tight. “You’re beautiful,” she says in my ear, soft and honest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I wave at Coach Geno as I slip away to my own — where a custom basketball sits in the middle with my name on it, flanked by my family. I sit down, stealing one last glance across the venue.

That’s when Paige walks in again — new outfit, new vibe, same soul.

She catches my eye from across the floor and sends a quick, subtle wave.

I mouth, I see you.

And she mouths back, Always.

I tuck the smile into my cheek, turning just in time as the lights begin to dim very slightly, one the announcer’s voice comes over the loudspeaker. A hush of anticipation blankets the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2025 WNBA Draft.”

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️