#I mean there is consequences on the world and the characters ...

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 6 - turnover]

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: A chance encounter in a nightclub ignites tension between Paige and Azzi, forcing emotions to the surface neither of them are ready to face. One night. One confrontation. Everything shifts. Warning: Substance and druge use. Semi sexual content. And Jake. Author's note: If this is what you guys are waiting for, I hope it meets your expectation. Word count: 5,226

The Grand Night Club, San Francisco. May 2025.  

"Wait—shit," she muttered, eyes darting past her. 

Paige pulled back abruptly, breath still caught between her lips, hand rising to the girl's shoulder as she stepped away. 

The girl blinked in disbelief. “You’re kidding.” 

Paige barely looked at her. “You’re gorgeous, seriously, but I—just—sorry.” The apology hit the floor with all the sincerity of a half-finished beer. 

“Asshole,” the girl snapped behind her. 

Paige didn’t stop. She was already moving, shoving through the haze of music and bodies, eyes locked on a navy silhouette disappearing deeper into the crowd. 

Azzi. 

She was walking fast. Purposeful. 

Paige slipped past a group of laughing dancers and turned a corner. The lights dimmed further near the back of the club, pulse of the bass thudding low against the floor. Her breath caught again, but this time for a different reason. 

“Azzi,” she called out, more breath than sound. 

Paige pushed through the last knot of dancers and caught up just as Azzi slipped past a shadowed corner of the club. Heart racing, she reached out and grabbed her arm with a little force. 

The weight of consequence snapped back like a live wire.    Azzi's tone didn’t rise. It cut clean and cold, sharper than the grip on her arm. 

“If you still want that professional career,” Azzi said, eyes locked and merciless, “I’d let go. Right now.” 

Around them, music was loud and lights shifted here and there. But Paige’s world narrowed to that voice. Her hand dropped. Her mouth opened, then closed again. 

She hadn’t expected to see Azzi here.  

The last she'd heard from interns and some of the Valkyries staff, Azzi was still in London handling Fudd Holdings business.    And even if she’d flown back, this wasn’t the kind of place Paige ever imagined spotting her.  

The club pulsed with bodies and bass. Too chaotic, too public, too far from the world Azzi kept wrapped in silk and distance.    She also hadn’t expected Azzi to see her like that. Lips on someone else’s, mouth chasing heat, pressed against the wall of a dark bar like it meant nothing. It wasn’t supposed to matter. But something about it felt off, sour in her chest.    Paige took a breath, words catching behind her teeth. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what, exactly?” 

The question came sharp and clean, slicing through whatever explanation Paige had lined up. She blinked once, stunned by the coldness wrapped around the words. 

“I just thought…” Paige trailed off. “I just thought… what you saw—it didn’t mean anything.” 

Azzi let out a short, cold laugh. Her eyes remained fixed on her, unblinking. “Funny. It looked exactly like what I’ve always expected from you.” 

Paige’s brows pulled in, confusion flickering fast across her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “It means I drafted an exceptional athlete. One of the best. But that’s all you’ll ever be to me. A name under contract. Someone I pay to win games.” 

The words landed with surgical precision. Paige stood there, visibly gutted. 

“Anyway, you’re a grown woman. What you do outside of team hours is your business.” Azzi’s expression didn’t soften. “So, I’m not sure what you’re apologizing for because this—whatever this is—was never anything at all.” 

Paige felt like she’d been slapped a million times. 

“One last thing.” 

Her gaze found Paige, sharp and deliberate. 

“If you touch me again without asking, I’ll have HR involved.” 

She didn’t wait for a reply. Just disappeared into the crowd, leaving Paige frozen in place, the weight of the warning hitting harder than she expected. 

Azzi climbed the staircase with her heels muffled by the plush carpet, posture steady and eyes cold.

At the top landing, a man in a black suit stepped forward from the shadows near a closed door. He gave a short nod of recognition. 

“He’s inside?” Azzi asked, voice low but crisp. 

The man didn’t speak. He only nodded again and pushed the door open for her with a slight bow before escorting her in. 

She nodded back and followed with precision and authority. 

The bass from the club below dulled to a hum. Laughter echoed across the lavish suite, and Trey Fudd reclined on an oversized couch, arms stretched, head thrown back mid-laugh.  

His friends flanked him, drinks in hand, their eyes glazed. A tray sat on the table, glossy and too clean, with a thin line of powder untouched beside a gleaming credit card. 

Her eyes found Trey’s with a burn that could level buildings. 

His laughter died in his throat the second Azzi stepped closer.  

Her presence swallowed the room. The air felt heavier, colder.  

She glanced once at the table — at the powder, the mess, the recklessness — then back at him with surgical disgust. 

“Azzi,” he said quickly, as if her name alone might soften the blow. “How did you even—how’d you know I was here?” 

"Congratulations," she said, voice dripping with venom. "Barely a month out of rehab and you’re already back to snorting lines in public like it’s a family tradition." 

Trey straightened, color draining from his face.  

“I warned you,” she said, voice low and deadly. “One more slip, and I walk away. Completely. You overdose, you get arrested, you vanish off the grid again? I won’t lift a finger. I won’t bury you. I won’t save you.” 

Trey stood frozen. His hands trembled slightly. 

“You think I enjoy being the one who has to scrub your name from headlines? Who has to smile and lie while the company hemorrhages trust because the CEO’s son is a walking cautionary tale?” Her tone never rose, but it sliced deep. “You disgrace our name one more time, and I swear on what’s left of this family’s dignity, I’ll treat you like any other liability. And I’m very good at cutting those out.” 

Trey swallowed hard, eyes wide. 

But just Azzi turned to leave, the door burst open, and Paige rushed in, breath caught in her throat, hair a mess like she’d run from the end of the block.    “Azzi.” 

Her name rang out, sharp and urgent. 

The room shifted in an instant.  

Trey shot to his feet, eyes narrowing. “Who the fuck is this?” 

Before Paige could answer, two suited men reacted on instinct, closing the distance and seizing her arms. 

Her gaze swept the room, sharp with confusion, until it landed on Azzi. The sudden weight of where she was settled fast across her chest. 

“Let her go,” Azzi snapped, voice like flint.     Azzi was seething beneath her polished exterior. Rage pulsed beneath her skin, sharp and volatile, but so was the weight of exhaustion.    “Paige, what are you doing here?” she snapped, not hiding the edge. 

Before Paige could speak, Azzi motioned sharply to one of the suited men. 

“Tony. Please escort Miss Bueckers to my car. Now.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Make sure no one sees her coming out from this room.”    The suited man, tall and broad-shouldered, clasped Paige’s arm and pulled her out with deliberate force. She glanced back once, eyes searching for answers, but Azzi had already turned away. 

When the door closed, Azzi faced the room with an icy calm that barely covered the heat surging beneath her skin. Trey stood stiff, his face pale. His friends sat frozen. 

“That didn’t happen,” Azzi said, her voice like steel. “She was not here.”  

She took a step forward. “And if anyone says otherwise, I will make sure you lose everything you think you’re entitled to. Try me.” 

- 

Azzi’s condo, San Francisco. May 2025. 

The black car rolled to a stop in the lower levels of the tower’s parking structure, headlights casting a faint glow across polished concrete.  

Tony got out and opened the rear door without much of a glance of his passengers. 

Azzi stepped out first. Her stride held purpose, movements clipped and controlled, like she had already filed the last twenty minutes under damage control.  

She didn't look back. She didn’t wait. 

Paige followed. 

Her limbs were sore from the game, her chest still unsettled from everything that had unraveled since. Azzi hadn’t spoken a word in the car. She hadn’t asked if Paige wanted to go home. She hadn’t even acknowledged her while they both sat in the back seat.  

Paige trailed a few steps behind, unsure if she was meant to keep going. She had no idea where they were headed, and Azzi hadn’t offered. 

They stepped into the private elevator without speaking. Azzi swiped her keycard, the motion fluid, practiced.  

The panel lit up and the doors slid closed behind them, sealing off the world below. Paige shifted her weight, eyes flicking toward the polished steel walls, then to Azzi’s reflection—composed, unreadable. 

The ride stretched in heavy stillness. No music played. No questions passed between them. 

When the elevator reached the top floor, a soft ding broke through the quiet tension. The doors opened to the penthouse.  

Paige followed. 

The moment she stepped inside, Azzi’s voice cracked through the air like a whip even before the door hadn’t even shut behind them. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” 

Paige stopped on her tracks. 

“Did you even consider what would happen if someone saw you in that room?” Azzi’s voice rose, sharp and biting. “If anyone had the tiniest idea you were even near that scene—” 

Paige stood still, heart hammering. Her thoughts spun, colliding with the sound of Azzi’s fury. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. 

Azzi’s words cut deeper. “There were drugs there, Paige. Drugs that could ruin everything.” 

“I didn’t know!” Paige burst out, her voice frayed. “I didn’t even notice.” 

“That doesn’t matter. Perception is everything.” Azzi’s voice was raw but sharp. “If a single photo, a whisper, even a fucking tweet gets out that you were in the same room as my brother with coke all over the table, you’re done. You understand that?” 

Paige stared at her, chest rising too fast. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t find anything to say that didn’t sound like begging. Azzi wasn’t just angry. She was scared. And so was Paige. 

She slumped onto the couch, her hands covering her face, the weight of everything finally breaking through. Her shoulders shook once, then again, and when she finally looked up, there were tears on her cheeks she didn’t bother to hide. 

Paige dropped to her knees in front of her. She didn’t hesitate this time. 

“Hey!” she said, voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, ma.” 

Azzi let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-heartbreak. “You really picked a moment to start using nicknames.” 

Paige tried to smile, but it faltered. “I didn’t want the night to end with you mad at me. That’s why I followed you upstairs. I didn’t want that to be the last thing between us.” 

Azzi’s eyes were searching Paige’s face like she was trying to decide if she could afford to believe her. The air around them felt too fragile to break, like one more word might shatter whatever thread still held. 

“I don’t even know what this is,” Paige said, her voice thinner than before, like the words scraped coming out. “But I’ve never fought this hard to matter to someone who won’t even look at me the same way twice.” 

Her fingers curled into her palms. 

“I joke around because I don’t know what else to do. I flirt because it’s safer than saying I care. But I do. I care more than I’ve ever let myself, and I don’t know if I’m making a complete fool of myself or if you’re just never going to meet me halfway.” 

She let the words hang in the air between them, her throat burning. 

“I followed you up there because I couldn’t stand the idea of tonight ending with you walking away. Mad. Hurt. Done. I messed up, I know that. But it didn’t mean anything. That girl didn’t mean anything. You—” 

Paige faltered. Her eyes dropped to the floor, voice barely audible now. 

“You mean more than I want to admit. And I don’t even know if I’m allowed to feel that way.”    Azzi’s voice came quiet, softer than Paige had ever heard from her. Barely held together. 

“You kissed her.” 

The words were fragile, not a question, just a quiet fact. Azzi blinked once, then added, “You literally made out with her in the corner.” 

Paige felt the shame hit square in her chest. “I know. That’s not—God, I know there’s no excuse.” 

She exhaled hard, rubbing the heel of her hand against her brow like she could scrub the mistake away.  

“It was stupid. I was stupid. I get reckless when I feel like I’m losing something I never really had. But that’s the thing. I keep trying to tell myself you’re just my boss, and we’re just two people who orbit in the same space. But it never feels that simple with you.”    Then there was a shift on Azzi’s eyes. It was darker than midnight outside.    “How did you expect your night to end with that girl?”  

Azzi grabbed Paige by the wrist and pulled her up to stand. The motion wasn’t violent, but it was forceful, laced with frustration, and with something deeper she hadn’t named yet.    “Huh, Paige?” She pushed with force. “Were you going to take her home?”  

Azzi’s voice rose, and with another push, Paige stumbled back a step. “Was that the plan?” 

Paige blinked, completely thrown. “Azzi, I don’t—what are you doing?” 

But Azzi looked like she didn’t even hear her. Like something had cracked, and all that restraint she wore so easily had started to splinter.  

Paige couldn’t make sense of it. She had seen Azzi composed in front of press rooms full of sharks. She had never seen her like this. Not this emotional. Not this affected.    “Were you going to fuck her?”     Paige flinched. 

“Were you going to fuck her good?” Azzi was seething. Her breath ragged.  

“I don’t know!”    “Stop lying to me.” Azzi pushed her back hard against the wall. “Was this what you were thinking when she had her mouth on your neck? When you dug your fingers into her hips like you couldn’t wait to fuck her right there?”    She stared at Azzi for a long moment. “Maybe I would’ve. I don’t know.”    Azzi’s stare didn’t waver.  

“She touched you like she had something to prove. And you let her.” Her voice dipped lower, bitter with restrained fury. “It’s almost insulting how easy you make it look. I could’ve done it better. I would’ve.”  

A beat passed. 

She took a single step forward, voice dropping. “You think that was good? The way she kissed you? The way she pressed into you like she had something to prove? I could make you feel like your whole body was mine to command.” 

Paige's breath caught somewhere in her throat, her back still against the wall. Azzi hadn’t even touched her, not really, and yet the room felt heavier, denser with every word. 

Her voice came out lower than she expected. “Azzi, what are you doing?” 

It was meant to come out sharp, teasing maybe. But it faltered under the weight of Azzi’s stare, under the bite in her voice, the promise in it.    Azzi’s voice dropped, eyes steady. “You want a girl who listens? Learns fast?” She leaned in, lips barely parted. “I can be your good girl, if that’s what you want.” 

Paige’s chest rose unevenly. Her pulse hadn’t calmed since Azzi backed her against the wall. She was still trying to gather herself, still trying to decide if this was a warning or something else entirely. 

“Last time I touched you…” Her voice broke through the charged air, low and hoarse. “You told me to ask for consent.” 

Azzi's expression didn’t soften. She only looked at Paige like she was daring her to try again. 

Paige swallowed hard. The tension curled down her spine. 

“So, I’m asking,” she murmured, heat tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Can I...” A pause, quieter. “Can I touch you?”    Azzi’s eyes flicked down to Paige’s lips. It looked soft and inviting.  

The silence between them stretched, full of sharp edges and everything unsaid.    For a long second, she didn’t move.  

Then, without warning, as if something inside her cracked open, she surged forward and kissed Paige. 

It wasn’t gentle. It was a collision of need and fury, messy and breathless. Teeth scraped. Fingers clawed at fabric.  

Paige stumbled a half step back into the wall, catching herself only because Azzi held her there. Every ounce of restraint shattered the moment their mouths met.  

“Touch me,” Azzi whispered, low and deliberate. “Touch me like you touched her.” 

The words made Paige go still for just a beat.  

Then she surged forward, pulling Azzi back into her like she’d been waiting to be told. 

Her hands roamed as her body answered without hesitation. Her mind losing ground to heat. Every inch between them burned with intent.  

The kiss deepened. Less war now, more hunger, more claim. 

Her fingers followed the curve of Azzi’s jaw, her thumb grazing the tender spot just beneath her ear.  

She leaned back slightly, their lips separating with a soft, lingering sound.  

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with longing.  

Azzi’s eyes drifted shut, her breath catching as Paige’s hand slid to her neck, fingers threading through the curls that framed her face.    Paige’s heart thundered as Azzi grabbed her by her shirt and pulled her toward the couch with deliberate force, their bodies colliding before Paige dropped back onto the cushions.  

The look in Azzi’s eyes was searing—hungry, impatient—and it lit Paige up from the inside. 

Azzi stepped back just enough to let the tension bloom between them. Her eyes dark, locking onto Paige like she was already imagining every way she was going to ruin her. 

Her fingers moved to the top button of her blouse.  

Paige watched, chest rising and falling fast, as Azzi worked each one open with deliberate slowness.  

One.  

Two.  

Three. 

The fabric parted inch by inch, revealing the glint of damp skin beneath, the curve of her collarbone, the faintest flush climbing down from her throat.  

Paige swallowed hard.  

The blouse slipped off her shoulders, caught for a second at her elbows before Azzi let it fall to the floor in a soft heap. 

Time stretched.  

Paige could feel the heat crawling up the back of her neck, pooling between her legs, spreading low in her belly like wildfire.  

Her eyes drifted over Azzi’s bare skin, down the taut lines of her abdomen, the way her bra clung tight to her chest, damp with sweat from anticipation alone.  

It was too much and not enough all at once. Every inch of her ached to touch, to taste, to lose herself in the woman standing before her like a slow-burning flame. 

Azzi stepped between her legs, the air between them thick, buzzing, ready to snap.  

Paige reached out instinctively, fingers brushing the side of Azzi’s thigh. She felt the slight tremble beneath her skin and knew Azzi was just as wrecked by the tension as she was. 

Azzi leaned in, close enough that Paige could feel her breath across her lips, but she didn’t kiss her yet. She hovered.  

Teased.  

Let the moment stretch until Paige was straining for more, her whole body alive with wanting. 

She climbed into Paige’s lap like she was staking a claim, her body flush against hers in one smooth, heated motion. Her grip on Paige’s shoulders was firm, fingers curling hard enough to make a point.  

The grinding started.  

There was nothing soft in the way she moved. Every shift of her hips, every inch of contact was laced with something deeper.  

Jealousy.  

Possession.  

A fury that simmered just beneath her skin.    “You let her touch you,” Azzi said, her voice low and sharp, almost a growl. “You let her kiss you like she had the right.” 

Her hands slid up into Paige’s hair, not tender, but demanding, forcing Paige to look at her. Her breath shook between her teeth, and her eyes were wild with something she hadn’t bothered to hide. 

“Did you like it?” she asked, her words clipped, dangerous. “Did it feel good when she put her hands on you?” 

She leaned in closer, her mouth barely brushing Paige’s, her grip tightening in her hair. The weight of her body pressed Paige down into the couch, every inch of her coiled and burning. 

"No," Paige whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“No?” she echoed, bitter and breathless, her hips grinding down harder against Paige’s lap. “That’s all you’ve got?” 

Her body pressed flush, heat radiating off her skin as she rolled her hips again, slow but punishing. Her breath hitched, but her gaze never left Paige’s, like she needed to watch every reaction, every falter in her control. 

“Because I saw the way she looked at you,” Azzi hissed, jaw tight. “Like she thought she had a chance.”    Her hand slid from Paige’s hair to the back of her neck, pulling her forward until their foreheads touched, rough and intimate. Her voice dropped, sharp and shaking. 

“Tell me she didn’t make you feel like this,” she growled, hips dragging against Paige’s again, rougher this time. ��

She caught Paige’s bottom lip between her teeth, tugged—just enough to sting, just enough to punish. 

“Because if she did,” Azzi whispered darkly, “I’ll fuck you right here until you forget she even existed.” 

Paige felt it in the rhythm of Azzi’s body, the way she moved with sharp, almost punishing intent. Every roll of her hips came with a weight that wasn’t just desire.  

Azzi's fingers clutched her like she was holding her in place, like she couldn’t stand the idea of letting go.  

The heat in Azzi's eyes wasn’t the same kind she had seen before. It was darker. Fierce. 

Her breath caught as the realization hit her. 

Azzi Fudd was jealous. 

A slow smile spread across Paige’s lips, sharp and cocky, her fingers tightening at Azzi’s waist. 

“That’s what this is,” she said, voice low and taunting. “You’re jealous.” 

Azzi scoffed, fingers still tangled in Paige’s hair, her body grinding down with steady, punishing rhythm. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, voice tight and low, heat laced through every word. “This isn’t jealousy.” 

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the corner of Paige’s mouth as her hips rolled again, deeper this time. 

“This is control,” she whispered, breath hot against Paige’s skin. “I control you.” 

“Fuck.”  

Paige’s smile curled wider, lazy and smug. Her hands gliding down to grip Azzi’s ass, holding her there with just enough pressure to make her feel it. 

“You keep talking like you're in charge,” Paige groaned, her voice soaked in heat, “but you’re the one grinding like you can’t help yourself.” 

She leaned in, lips brushing Azzi’s throat without kissing, letting her breath drag slow and warm against her skin. 

“Tell me, baby,” she whispered, her tone low and taunting, “how do you want me to touch you?” 

Her fingers flexed against Azzi’s bare waist, teasing, not moving higher, not moving lower. 

“Fast and dirty like you’re pissed? Or slow enough to make you beg?”    “Fuck you.”    “Oh no, babe,” Paige licked Azzi’s throat up to her ear and whispered. “I’ll be fucking you.”    Azzi released a sound caught between a moan and a whimper, and Paige swore it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. 

Paige’s fingers moved with intent, unfastening the button on Azzi’s pants with a practiced ease. Her touch dipped lower, pressing just enough to make Azzi’s breath catch, her hips twitching forward.  

Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s, hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt like she needed something to hold on to. 

Paige’s fingers slipped just beneath the waistband, slow and teasing. The heat between them impossible to ignore. 

Then the phone rang. 

A vibration buzzed loud against the cushion beside them.  

Paige pressed her lips to Azzi’s throat, her tongue dragging slowly down to her collarbones. 

Every touch was deliberate, a wordless dare for Azzi to forget the phone completely. 

It rang again. Longer this time. 

Azzi’s body stilled. 

Her eyes dropped to the screen, and her heart thudded once—hard. 

Jake. 

The name glowed bright against the screen. 

Paige saw the name too. 

The tension in her spine pulled tight like a snapped wire, and she suddenly felt the weight of everything. The sweat on her skin, Paige’s hands inside her waistband, her thighs straddling someone who wasn’t supposed to be touching her like this. 

“Shit,” she whispered, voice raw. 

She exhaled shakily, then shifted, climbing off Paige’s lap with a kind of quiet urgency. Her back was already straightening.  

The phone kept ringing, insistent, a sound that sliced through the heat of the room.    Azzi answered the phone softly, but breathless. “Hey.” 

“Hey babe! I’ve been trying to reach you. Are you okay?” Jake’s voice came through, full of concern. 

“I was just in the shower,” Azzi replied quietly. The lie rolled in naturally. 

“You’re still flying to LA tomorrow, right?” he asked after a pause. 

Azzi glanced at Paige, who sat hunched forward, eyes fixed on the floor. Her jaw was tight, lips parted like a word had caught in her throat. One hand gripped the edge of the cushion, the other limp in her lap. The heat in her face had faded, replaced by something hollow and quiet.  

“Babe?” Jake’s voice was steady, waiting for a response. “You still there?” 

“Yes,” Azzi said, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Great! My parents can’t wait to meet you. Looking forward to it.” Jake said with relief. 

“Uh, yeah. I have to go now. I’ll message you when I land.”  

She set the phone down without turning toward Paige.    Something had changed, a tension neither of them wanted to admit, but both knew couldn’t be left unspoken.    Paige stood, chest heaving, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. The second Azzi ended the call, the weight of it hit like a brick. 

"You picked up," Paige said, voice tight. "You actually picked up his call." 

Azzi didn’t turn around. 

Paige stepped forward, her hands shaking. "After everything. After what you just said to me. You touched me like I was yours. You looked at me like I was the only thing in the world. And then you answered his call." 

Azzi’s shoulders rose slightly with her breath. "It was just a call." 

Paige let out a sharp laugh, one that cracked on the way out. "Are you serious? That’s what you’re calling it?" 

She moved closer, her voice rising. "You don’t get to be jealous. You don’t get to fuck with my head. You don’t get to put your hands all over me and then act like that call doesn’t mean something." 

Azzi turned around. Voice calm, almost cold. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. We weren’t supposed to happen.”    “You’re afraid of wanting me.” Paige’s voice had dropped now, but it cracked on the edges. 

“I’m not afraid of anything,”  

Azzi held her posture with precision, but the pressure inside her was relentless.  

Paige’s words sank deep, scraping against everything she worked to keep buried. Her chest felt tight. Her pulse throbbed at her neck, a quiet tremor she couldn’t stop.  

She kept her hands still even though they itched to react, to reach for something, to push Paige away or pull her closer.    She hated how right Paige sounded. 

Paige stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s face.  

“I see you,” she said, voice steady. “Even when you think I’m not looking.”    Azzi’s breath hitched. She stayed rooted in place. Her breath shallow, her expression carved from stone. 

“You walk into a room like nothing touches you, like you’ve already decided how the story ends before anyone else can even read the first line.” Paige lifted her hand and touched Azzi’s cheek, the gesture soft, like she was holding something fragile. 

“But I see past all of that. I see the way your eyes flick to me when you think I’m not watching. I see how your hands tighten whenever my name comes up. I see you.” 

A flicker passed through Azzi’s eyes, too quick to name. Her jaw tightened, but she kept her stance rigid, as if any shift would crack through the restraint she fought to maintain. The heat behind her ribs rose, slow and aching, but she refused to let it reach her face. 

“I can’t do this, Paige.” 

The words landed like a final chord between them, cold and deliberate. 

Paige’s expression cracked. She didn’t speak, but something shifted in her shoulders, in the way her arms crossed tight against her chest as if bracing for impact. 

“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” Azzi continued. “Any of it. I shouldn’t have touched you. I shouldn’t have crossed that line.” 

Her tone didn’t falter, but there was weight behind every word, the kind that didn’t come from doubt, but from resolve. 

“I let things get out of hand tonight. And almost,” she paused, her eyes flicking briefly to Paige’s mouth before she caught herself, “almost let it go further. But I can’t. You’re just starting your career. You deserve to do it clean without this distraction and mess tied to your name.” 

Paige’s brows drew in, pain evident in her expression, but Azzi pushed on. 

“I know I slipped. More than once. And it keeps happening, because around you I forget how to stay where I’m supposed to be, but it needs to end here.”    Paige stood still for a long moment, her jaw clenched, her eyes locked on Azzi like she was trying to memorize every angle of her face. Her voice came quieter, but there was no hesitation behind it. 

“What happened felt real,” she said. “At least to me.” 

Azzi didn’t respond, but the silence between them thickened, stretched to its breaking point. 

Paige stepped closer.  

“When you stop being a coward to your own feelings,” Her voice lowered to a whisper, barely brushing the air., “you’ll know where to find me.”    Then she turned and walked out with every ounce of hurt carried in the quiet strength of her exit. 

The door clicked shut behind her. 

Azzi remained frozen, her arms stiff at her sides, her breathing shallow. The silence in the room echoed around her now, louder than anything Paige had said.  

She stayed standing for a moment longer, her eyes on the door as if willing it to open again, but it never did. 

The strength she had wrapped so tightly around herself finally gave out. 

Her shoulders dropped. Her hands trembled. And then her knees buckled beneath her, and she sank to the floor. 

The first sob caught in her throat, sharp and sudden. She pressed her hand over her mouth, as if she could contain it, but the emotion came in waves, rough and merciless. Her face crumpled, her body folding in on itself. 

For the first time that night, Azzi let herself feel all of it. And it wrecked her. 

[crustyfloor]

(sorry to the anon I couldn't answer directly because cough tumblr being an idiot cough)

1) Since My Clematis encapsulates sincere love in Alnst, and Cure represents the tragic side of it, and Wiege represents humanity and its perseverance, I think the theme of Karma will be grief & death (and it will include remembrance, maybe, or in other terms flashbacks).

And with what we know about the general theme of Alnst, it will then center Mizi, Till, and Luka's grief, the essential "cause and effect" of their actions leading up to the deaths of those they held dear, and then how they faced the impact and consequences head-on from there. With that, I think Karma will also show how humans can persevere through it, even when it's grim (It makes sense to me for these aspects of the story to be amalgamated into the very last episode with this specific cast)

(I think that mostly cause of these flowers tbh.. flowers especially in funeral settings can symbolize death and rebirth, etc, and they remind me of Anakt gravesites, so that's grief, but Mizi Luka and Till also have a theme as the ones who had to live after Sua, HyunA, and Ivan's deaths) It's meant to be...

So if they go w/ this ^ then Mizi, Till, and Luka's perspectives and how they lived through the consequences of their actions and a fate that they didn't anticipate will be coordinated around to send this message and let us into their minds and how grief distorts and impacts them

(and yeah they'll all have shared survivor's guilt, trust me)

(This also means we get to see scenes of these three at their lowest. CURE FROM TILL'S PERSPECTIVE!!)

2)

(actually...I suspect this graphic not appearing with Luka and Mizi the same way it did with Mizi and HyunA hints that neither Mizi nor Luka will die... nobody will die the alive trio will survive 😇)

5) I suspect Mizi will end up finding some sense of peace by the end of the video, not like she’s fully getting over Sua or forgiving herself entirely, however in this current arc, where she's faced with consequences, and she's ultimately blaming herself for them is being set up to be resolved. She’s the kind of person to understand and get back up again, so it’ll happen somehow.

6) SOMEONE will finally get on the stage with the defibrillator so they can reccesuitate Till's lazy ass

7) A LITTLE BIT OF CURE FROM TILL'S PERSPECTIVE!

8) Karma will be a Mizi solo but I actually think it will sound a little more harsh or distorted, I can't get "Worst case scenario" -(nastyona) out of my head... now I think Karma itself will have a nastyona-esc sound, maybe for the little throwback to the trigger series (or that's my favoritism for that series talking) plus I think there will be dialogue sequences

9) More hyper-realistic and low-key eerie frames this time around that symbolize the self-sacrificial and theological themes of Mizi and Sua's dynamic & a reflection of the way Sua "haunts" Mizi's narrative.. yesss 🤤

10) I don't think Mizi will take her mental breakdown out on Luka and do anything to him directly, so no sneakily shooting Luka in the ass

11) Till breathing

12) At least a hopeful ending . Please, "The happy ending is where they all die." propaganda is like the cheese touch to me 🙎‍♂️

After we've been shown humans living with hope in a world like this in Wiege, even despite the odds and the rebellion's existence itself, I think it'd be a nice touch to see the rebels' plan to reconnect humanity through this rocket and HyunA's efforts and passion be seen through in the story. I'm not sure how that would play out, but why would Vivinos put those efforts and all that build-up in vain if not to set up a hopeless ending contrary to what messages and goals have been conveyed thus far in this series? I also think it will open up a chance for the remaining cast to get off the dubiously explodable stage this time. I want the characters to live to see this message through, if all goes well

13) i want till to live (gets blown up)

[ingihasextra]

toby fox and co youve done it again

[fadeoutstreet]

fucking love this scene

[mr-aftons-rotting-pussy]

TRAGIC: beautiful william afton post suddenly unrebloggable after mentioning minor thing that doesnt fit canon characterization

[lifeisourcause]

make the mistake of engaging with my coworker when she said she just finished watching severance and that it made her mad. So I asked why it made her mad and ooh YOU GUESSED IT. she hates innie mark and hates helly and hates helena and thinks imark should’ve walked through the Death Door with gemma because “that’s his WIFE”. she also thinks that mark and gemma are just going to back to exactly how they were before and be happy and married with no consequences from the events of the last two seasons. And also she thinks that helena and mark weren’t flirting at zufu. Like girl what. what show are you watching. do you even like shows. do you even like stories narratives characters etc. i think it’s possible that you are in fact not a fan of fiction…..

[brightresearchers]

being a cyrus as a villain enjoyer in gen 7 was a very malevolent experience because he got not one but two adaptations that straight up misrepresented him to take away his bite

like why is it that both of them ended with cyrus giving up and being wishy-washy about his plans when his most compelling trait as a villain is his sheer unstoppable determination

[northern-passage]

i've shared some of Alex Freed's narrative writing advice before and i recently read another article on his website that i really liked. particularly in branching/choice-based games, a lot of people often bring up the idea of the author "punishing" the player for certain choices. i agree that this is a thing that happens, but i disagree that it's always a bad thing. i think Freed makes a good case for it here.

...acting as the player’s judge (and jury, and executioner) is in some respects the primary job of a game’s developers. Moreover, surely all art emerges from the artist’s own experiences and worldview to convey a particular set of ideas. How does all that square with avoiding being judgmental?

[...]

Let’s first dispel–briefly–the idea that any game can avoid espousing a particular worldview or moral philosophy. Say we’re developing an open world action-adventure game set in a modern-day city. The player is able to engage any non-player character in combat at any time, and now we’re forced to determine what should occur if the player kills a civilian somewhere isolated and out of sight.

Most games either:

allow this heinous act and let the player character depart without further consequence, relying on the player’s own conscience to determine the morality of the situation.

immediately send police officers after the player character, despite the lack of any in-world way for the police to be aware of the crime.

But of course neither of these results is in any way realistic. The problems in the latter example are obvious, but no less substantial than in the former case where one must wonder:

Why don’t the police investigate the murder at a later date and track down the player then?

Why doesn’t the neighborhood change, knowing there’s a vicious murderer around who’s never been caught? Why aren’t there candlelight vigils and impromptu memorials?

Why doesn’t the victim’s son grow up to become Batman?

We construct our game worlds in a way that suits the genre and moral dimensions of the story we want to tell. There’s no right answer here, but the consequences we build into a game are inherently a judgment on the player’s actions. Attempting to simulate “reality” will always fail–we must instead build a caricature of truth that suggests a broader, more realized world. Declaring “in a modern city, murderous predators can escape any and all consequences” is as bold a statement on civilization and humanity as deciding “in the long run, vengeance and justice will always be served up by the victims of crime (metaphorically by means of a bat-costumed hero).”

Knowing that, what’s the world we want to build? What are the themes and moral compass points we use to align our game?

This is a relatively easy task when working with a licensed intellectual property. In Star Trek, we know that creativity, diplomacy, and compassion are privileged above all else, and that greed and prejudice always lead to a bad end. A Star Trek story in which the protagonist freely lies, cheats, and steals without any comeuppance probably stopped being a Star Trek story somewhere along the line. Game of Thrones, on the other hand, takes a more laissez-faire approach to personal morality while emphasizing the large-scale harm done by men and women who strive for power. (No one comes away from watching Game of Thrones believing that the titular “game” is a reasonable way to run a country.)

These core ideals should affect more than your game’s storytelling–they should dovetail with your gameplay loops and systems, as well. A Star Trek farming simulator might be a fun game, but using the franchise’s key ideals to guide narrative and mechanical choices probably won’t be useful. (“Maybe we reward the player for reaching an accord with the corn?”)

Know what principles drive your game world. You’re going to need that knowledge for everything that’s coming.

[...]

Teaching the player the thematic basics of your world shouldn’t be overly difficult–low-stakes choices, examples of your world and character arcs in a microcosm, gentle words of wisdom, obviously bad advice, and so forth can all help guide the player’s expectations. You can introduce theme in a game the way you would in any medium, so we won’t dwell on that here.

You can, of course, spend a great deal of time exploring the nuances of the moral philosophy of your game world across the course of the whole game. You’ll probably want to. So why is it so important to give the player the right idea from the start?

Because you need the player to buy into the kind of story that you’re telling. To some degree, this is true even in traditional, linear narratives: if I walk into a theater expecting the romcom stylings of The Taming of the Shrew and get Romeo and Juliet instead, I’m not going to be delighted by having my expectations subverted; I’m just going to be irritated.

When you give a player a measure of control over the narrative, the player’s expectations for a certain type of story become even stronger. We’ll discuss this more in the next two points, but don’t allow your player to shoot first and ask questions later in the aforementioned Star Trek game while naively expecting the story to applaud her rogue-ish cowboy ways. Interactive narrative is a collaborative process, and the player needs to be able to make an informed decision when she chooses to drive the story in a given direction. This is the pact between player and developer: “You show me how your world works, and I’ll invest myself in it to the best of my understanding.”

[...]

In order to determine the results of any given choice, you (that is, the game you’ve designed) must judge the actor according to the dictates (intended or implicit) of the game world and story. If you’re building a game inspired by 1940s comic book Crime Does Not Pay, then in your game world, crime should probably not pay.

But if you’ve set the player’s expectations correctly and made all paths narratively satisfying, then there can be no bad choices on the part of the player–only bad choices on the part of the player character which the player has decided to explore. The player is no more complicit in the (nonexistent) crimes of the player character than an author is complicit in the crimes of her characters. Therefore, there is no reason to attempt to punish or shame the player for “bad” decisions–the player made those decisions to explore the consequences with you, the designer. (Punishing the player character is just dandy, so long as it’s an engaging experience.)

[...]

It’s okay to explore difficult themes without offering up a “correct” answer. It’s okay to let players try out deeds and consequences and decide for themselves what it all means. But don’t forget that the game is rigged. [...]

Intentionally or not, a game judges and a game teaches. It shows, through a multiplicity of possibilities, what might happen if the player does X or Y, and the player learns the unseen rules that underlie your world. Embracing the didactic elements of your work doesn’t mean slapping the player’s wrist every time she’s wrong–it means building a game where the player can play and learn and experiment within the boundaries of the lesson.

[calitsnow]

So many things to say regarding the end of this arc of Bungou Stray Dogs but this is what I want to share the most, because I have been saving this for months

Don't forget, the ride is not over ...

I didn't the anime was going to overtake the manga, I was so surprised but oh boy what a ride to get here, so much pain

[shallowseeker]

You know a headcanon that I personally don't vibe with?

The term Righteous Man being a positive thing.

So much of Dean's journey for me is about him struggling with his sense of code/law. In a sense, I think of him going through a lot of the same struggles Cas goes through as a lifelong soldier. It's this interesting interplay between cultural morals vs loyalties, nihilism vs meaning, fate and pre-determinism vs a genuine hope for the future etc. etc. etc.

SAM: I just… I mean, I thought (the angels) they’d be righteous. DEAN: (wry laugh) Well, they are righteous, I mean, that’s kinda the problem. Of course there’s nothing more dangerous...

4x07

///

CASTIEL: Yes, well, um… Before, I was very self-assured. I was convinced I was on this righteous path. Now I realize that there is no righteous path. It’s just people trying to do their best in a world where it’s far too easy to do your worst.

10x09

[blasphemousclaw]

Honestly debating Elden Ring's characters' moralities is like putting oil in the fire

Someone or anyone ought to make a huge mess out of it,intentional or not

What I think is that hardly any of us can really judge how they act,who they are,cuz we're not in the same story,the same world. I just enjoy how complex and morally challenging it is without thinking too hard about it

yeah essentially my thoughts are that it’s completely unhelpful to take a story and sort the characters into the bad guys and the good guys; this is a story, not real life, and the focus of discussion should be on how their morally challenging actions affect their character dynamics and the direction of the story. at the same time though the severity of their actions in the story should be considered, not for the purpose of simply condemning their actions, but in order to understand how the characters’ actions have shaped their world and the people in it

[fatedroses]

Your Avendurer! Zenos comics are always so good, and I love how you write him. The touch about him being functionally doomed to immortality is the perfect level of extra spice on top, too. Imo it's the perfect motivation for him to genuinely try to better himself as a person.

Thank you! Tbh the concept has had a hold on my brain since the end of Endwalker, and I'm glad you really enjoy it ^-^

It’s the subtle character development he’s gotten over the course of the story and the potential he has that makes me adore writing Adventurer!Zenos and the journey he has in turn of following the WoL's (Meteor, in my cases) footsteps.

Making himself immortal is actually the main inspiration behind it too, it's a consequence that self-sabotaged his original goal. Maybe eventually becoming a wake up for him that Alisaie was absolutely right and that he may still have an opportunity to not doom himself to being alone forever.

It's actually why I also made him a tank too, having him turn away from being "the man who was willing to destroy the world for his own chase of his desires" to him being willing to throw himself in and to help and protect others even at the cost of himself for a time, a thought that has stuck with me since the theory of him saving WoL with the remote crossed my mind.

[leori-the-unlearned]

the way digimon does conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: chef’s kiss <3

the way sonic idw handles creating conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: *wilting flower*

[bitegore]

ngl i think i kind of was a genius for being like 'yeah this character is a scary killyou cannibal scary killer who scary kills you' and then realizing that the way my worldbuilding works out is that there's a nonzero chance that if you leave literally any body parts over they can just come back, depending on what they believe in their heart of hearts can kill them. Of course she'd start eating her kills. She probably tried normal stuff first and then realized it didn't work and she had to try harder if she wanted to actually keep them dead.

[teethbomb]

hrrnnggg digital circus…

[chuchayucca]

Discussions of implied fictional CSA & SA

I recently been wondering if there’s a chance Richard thinks Roy’s aggressive and distant behavior is normal and not a sign of CSA because he acted similarly to Roy when he was younger

Reasonings in the tags