#in fairness i've only ever seen a handful of people who did not like the ending and in general their commentary made me think they probably

[chthonicmoons]

god finishing my recursion run just had me thinking about how bold the ending of transistor is from a storytelling perspective, but how much it pays off, as well... massive spoilers for the end of transistor under the cut (like fr please dont read if you are planning to play and dont know what happens at the end bc its such a visceral emotional experience to have without spoilers and i want that for all of u)

i think its the way they completely defy a traditional narrative. like you defeat royce, you can hear mr. nobody again, you've won. slowly you can start to rebuild cloudbank. even the music feels triumphant, the slow, inspirational guitar strumming that builds and swells as you cross the bridge. mr. nobody even prompts red on what she could do first, rebuild the canals, junction jan's... it's the logical next step. we won, now we rebuild. we return to the familiar, the life we've always known.

except the first thing red brings back after the statues on the bridge is mr. nobody's body. he tries to reassure her that while that's not him anymore, he'll always be with her, in the transistor. and then red hugs the transistor, and she puts it down, and she sits down next to his body. and we, as the player, lose all agency. we become one with mr. nobody, essentially - all we can do is watch in agonizing horror as red makes her choice.

and (at least in my experience the first time i played, and even to some degree in subsequent playthroughs) it doesn't feel good. we were supposed to save cloudbank, right? that's what this has always been about all along, hasn't it? but the game tells us, no, this isn't your story, or your choice. it's red's. it's been red's all along.

and for a second there's indignation, like, what do you mean we did all that for red to kill herself in the end? what do you mean the story ends there?

and then the scroll begins, and its all these memories, all these moments of red and mr. nobody before the camerata and all of this, and you start to realize - this is red's story, and this is what matters. this. him. them.

cloudbank is empty. everyone is dead. what would be the point in rebuilding a whole city that would remain just as empty? going even further, i think it also begs the question, if cloudbank was rebuilt and repopulated, who's to say this wouldn't happen again, years down the line? who's to say history wouldn't repeat itself?

and you realize what red sees inside the transistor, during the fight with royce, the potential she realizes, to make good on mr. nobody's desire to see her again, face to face. and at that point, its not even really a choice anymore. there's only one way this ends.

and i think its so bold because (at least in my experience) it's not immediately understood. it’s not straightforward. you have to wait a bit; you have to go along the same emotional journey as mr. nobody does. there's the horror, the shock, the sadness, the happy(ish) ending you expected ripped away from you, pulled out from under your feet. a feeling of betrayal, even. but as the scenes of their life together play out, and finally, you see him in the country, and there's red, and he says "hi", and you can guess what's about to happen but it still hits you like an 18-wheeler, and when red says "hey", you realize this is the most utterly joyful ending there could have been.

it's bold because it asks a lot of us, as a player, as an audience. it asks for a lot of trust and buy-in to the story, to red, to her autonomy and agency as a character, to her relationship with mr. nobody. and i know not everyone can give that, and i know there are people out there who were left upset or disappointed by the ending. but for me and i know for many, many others that can give that, it pays off spectacularly.

[yanderedrabbles]

Letter from your Yandere Valentine

You. You. It's always been you. Tempting, treacherous you.

God, I hated you at first. Always so pretty, so put together, so fucking alive. You had it all - the friends, the good grades, the effortless charm.

Every damn day I would spend hours imagining what it would be like to have just one day in your body. Just one day where I could be... perfect. Or as close to it as one person can get. You don't get it. You've never had to long for something as much as I have. Never had to be the loser, the kid at the back of class, the one person without a Valentine's card in their locker.

I know you had your own problems too. But it's total bull to say all problems are created equal. What did you have to worry about? Denting daddy's Mercedes?

I hated you. But... I wanted you. I still want you.

We ended up at the same college. I don't think you know that. Thousands of undergrads, why would you notice me? Even if we did go to high-school and elementary together, I was probably just a face in the back of your mind. As unnoticeable and unimportant as any background character.

I thought college would dim your sparkle somehow. Maybe you'd be one of those people who peakin high school and then it's all down hill from there. Chain smoking and cheap liquor and payday loans. I wanted that, honestly. To see you ripped down.

But no. You thrived. Had the picture perfect college experience. When I was stuck working two jobs to cover my tuition, you were studying in some fancy café and going out every weekend. When I was so haggard with stress that I could barely see straight, you were at pilates or out hiking or lounging in a sauna.

How is that fair? Hmm? I put in the work until my hands were fucking raw and all I got for it was minimum wage and leftovers.

And don't get me started on Valentine's. Fucking Valentine's. I'm almost glad they beheaded the guy way back when. I'd do the exact same thing if I could.

Every Valentine's day, you'd have a date. Rarely ever the same person, but somehow all of them had a propensity for huge gestures. Do you remember the one guy who hired a whole horse and carriage for you? Or the girl who took you on a late season ski trip?

Do you want to know what I got for Valentine's? Cafeteria mashed potatoes and mandatory overtime. Romantic, right? I'm swooning at the memory.

I tried to work on myself. Tried to overcome the differences in our birth and get on your level. What an education in disappointment that was. Turns out it's pretty fucking hard to spend two hours at the gym and three in the sauna when you're scheduled to work fifty hours a week and still attend lectures.

You graduated with honours. With a dozen glittering trophies for volunteering and leadership and student organising. You couldn't even hold them all.

I think that was the day I hated you the most. I couldn't stop thinking that should be me.

I thought I was rid of you after that. Thought I could finally go about my life without constantly comparing myself to an impossible ideal. Ha! As if I'd get so lucky.

I saw you again on at the start of February. Newest hire at the office, bright eyed and busy tailed despite the miserable fucking weather.

What are the chances of that? We're both working at the same company, in the same department.

I expected to hate you all over again. But then you introduced yourself to me. Actually shook my hand.

And oh, how I understand those idiots and their grand gestures. Their desperate need to please you.

All my life I've watched you from afar. Seen other people dazzled by you and never fully understood why. Always wondered why I seemed to be the only person bitter and jealous towards you.

I get it now.

You sparkle. You look in my eyes and I feel like I'm part of your world, like I belong in your fancy country club and at your VIP table. When you look at me, I don't feel insignificant anymore.

How do you expect me to let that go? I've spent decades watching from the sidelines and now I finally get a taste. How am I supposed to be normal about it?

I can't let you go. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to be part of your life.

It was always supposed to be me. Not your parade of dates, not your one night stands, none of them. It was always supposed to be me.

Why else would our lives run parallel? Why else can I always find you in a crowded room?

You're meant to be mine. I'm meant to be yours. I don't care what I have to do to make it happen.

Your Valentine,

X.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[cassandra-silver]

Let's talk about "Monster" ... and one of Odysseus' criminally underrated traits: his lack of judgment.

I was re-listening to "Monster" the other day and it kind of just hit me... Overall, that song isn't my favorite (it's somewhere in B tier; the lyricism is great, and the part after "So if we must sail through dangerous oceans..." absolutely slaps, it's just not one that I go back to frequently.) But there are some things I genuinely adore about it because I adore the way it progresses Odysseus' character arc as clearly not a "corruption" and how this is conveyed through the way the song is set up and presented.

First of all, I simply have to yap about how Odysseus isn't justifying his foes' actions the way that I have seen some people falsely assume. He's describing what they did or do and essentially saying, "They aren't letting themselves be stopped by guilt from doing what they think they have to do, so why should I?"

Polyphemus doesn't overthink whether it's right or wrong to kill some people because they harmed him or his sheep.

Circe may deep down feel guilt but isn't letting that stop her from turning men into pigs to prevent any more harm from befalling her nymphs at their hands.

Poseidon isn't losing sleep over drowning a fleet because that is what gods do to retain their infamy and status.

Odysseus and the rest of his soldiers didn't use the Trojan horse tactic out of malice or bloodlust, but out of pragmatism. It was the most efficient way to win a war that would have only cost more lives on both sides if they hadn't ended it then and there.

You look at that and you may think, "That's all very fair, but that doesn't mean any of those actions are justified" ... and you'd be right. None of the actions above are actually right or justified.

But the thing about "Monster" that I love so much is that it's specifically NOT something like, "These people I've encountered are all evil and ruthless and they are right and justified in being that way; I'll be the same." It's actually, "These people I've encountered act with ruthlessness; it clearly aids them in achieving their goal, and they seem to have figured out how to not feel guilt over their actions. I want to reap those benefits too. So far, I've been acting with mercy, which seems to have disadvantaged me. If they can do it, I can and should do the same to level the playing field."

Odysseus isn't saying that their actions are right, wrong, or justified. He's simply exploring why these people act the way they do. And he does so entirely without judgment.

I'm not surprised about him not judging Circe; while she was still wrong since she went overboard and struck preemptively against people who were not guaranteed to ever cause harm, she was pretty much redeemed in the end and her point is the easiest out of these to understand.

But the rest? Polyphemus killed his best friend. Poseidon drowned his whole fleet. The Trojan horse? It never comes up anywhere else but since he mentions it here, I think it's safe to assume that Odysseus feels guilty for using a tactic such as this. And still... Odysseus talks about his foes' actions with understanding and an open mind. He acknowledges their points of view—all of them, even if none besides Circe ever acknowledged or understood his.

The only time we genuinely see Odysseus act out of resentment is when he tells Polyphemus his name... After that, he never shows anything of the sort ever again. If he ever held any resentment toward any of his foes, I feel like this is where he lets it go for good.

Hell, even Poseidon, whom he would have by far the most reasons to resent, Odysseus doesn't actually judge or resent. I wrote a whole mini-essay on why the Vengeance saga proves that Odysseus doesn't actually seek or want vengeance on Poseidon. One might argue that he sounded like he was avenging his crew in "Six Hundred Strike" but it's important to remember that he offered Poseidon forgiveness one song earlier. He didn't lead with vengeance or resentment, but he rekindled his anger when Poseidon rejected his mercy.

My point is that Odysseus doesn't judge or resent any of the people who attempt to stand between him and his home... which shows incredible character strength in and of itself. This occurs later, but he acts similarly toward Calypso in "Not Sorry for Loving You" as well.

This is such an underrated trait of his, especially considering it fits perfectly with EPIC's themes, which revolve around seeing every perspective and balancing between ruthlessness and mercy. Honestly, I don't think those themes would even work with a protagonist who isn't so open-minded.

Coming back to "Monster," as we've established, Odysseus doesn't pass judgment on his foes. Similarly, he isn't saying that his decision to embrace ruthlessness and "become" a Monster (read more to find out why I put that in quotation marks) or any of his future actions as this Monster are justified.

I genuinely despise it when people call his arc a "villain arc" or "corruption" because that's pretty much missing the entire point. He isn't actually becoming a monster, corrupting, or genuinely changing his personality—hence why I put those quotation marks earlier. He is deliberately choosing to embrace a certain ruthless way of acting, fully knowing that it is not actually right or justified. "So what if I'm the Monster?" is self-gaslighting. He knows it's not "so what?" But he's doing it anyway because he has seen this way of acting aiding his foes. He literally says, "I must become the Monster / And then we'll make it home." He is convinced that this is what he must become because he keeps being told this by everyone.

From the top, his values or person isn't actually being corrupted. He's not really internally changing. He's merely adapting a way of behaving because he thinks it's the only way he'll still get home, and only because of that. It's really f*cking sad actually. Especially because he is wrong; his not being ruthless is not actually the problem, as we find out later.

Genuinely, his monster act lasted exactly 3,5 songs; in the second half of "Mutiny" it's already all gone because he is so afraid for his crew and what they're about to do to themselves that he instinctively goes back to wanting to save them despite how they just led a mutiny, despite how they don't listen to him regarding the cows.

Odysseus' entire arc can be described as, "He tries out mercy, and it doesn't get him home. He tries out ruthlessness, and it doesn't get him home either. In order to get home, he needs to learn balance, in Hermes' words "Every trick in his domain"." And that is also, as I believe, the main theme of EPIC: Neither ruthlessness nor mercy by itself is the solution. Both have their place; one needs balance. Or: treat people as they ask to be treated.

Only by the time of the Vengeance saga does Odysseus seem to have finally figured this out, and that's where he genuinely starts succeeding.

So no, Odysseus is no longer "The Monster" by the time of the Vengeance saga, no matter how much the visuals in "Six Hundred Strike" try to convince us otherwise. But he isn't "Just a Man" either. Did anyone besides me notice how he stopped calling himself this or justifying his weak moments like that in "Monster" and how he doesn't go back to it even after dropping the monster act?

And here we have the perfect segway into an essay I haven't written yet that might answer the question, "If now he's not a man and not a monster, what is he then?"

Well, technically Odysseus told us himself that one time he acted out of resentment... "Neither man nor mythical." But that's an essay yet to be written... I'll get to it soon, and there we might answer what actually happened in "Six Hundred Strike" and why the line "If you dance with fate I know you'll enhance your state", that I see is mostly overlooked, matters so much more than we probably all think.

Until then, know that I am not actually the first one to address the "Neither man nor mythical" significance. Credit goes to @glisten-inthedark; coming across her post on this matter genuinely enhanced my understanding of what happened so much and I need all of you to read it because it's a truly brilliant conclusion. I'll write my own essay on this topic soon, I promise. But without that post, I would've probably not come to this realization for a long while.

Either way, we end this essay with words that I will never tire of repeating: Stop villainizing Odysseus, y'all. It's not cool, not only because it's undeserved but also because it pretty much shows that you have successfully missed the point and core theme of this musical.

... See you when we inspiration for another essay strikes me. In the meantime, have a brief introduction to what that essay will cover in meme form because I can.

[dereks-unrelenting-heart]

SFTH Chaotic Highlights (OMG Is This A Joke)

Alright, I'm finally starting to make these for the longforms! These are gonna be quite a bit longer than the other two I've made, since these videos are (typically) longer and I have a lot of thoughts about them lol (edit while writing, less than halfway through the video - yeah, I have way more to say than I thought I would)

Before I even get into the video itself, I just love the bold move of having their first Youtube longform be one about nazis, let's people know the kind of humor they'll be getting from these guys lmao

Also shout out to the not insignificant number of people who fully didn't recognize AJ with hair

Luke's executive decision to grab a prop gun and just stand there like 🧍🏼

"If he was only a foot and a half taller, he would be a perfect nazi!" Still one of my favorite Luke short jokes, because if I was him I genuinely wouldn't know how to take that observation-

Not sure why Sam chose the puffy purple jacket for his villain character, but at least we get to call him Ze Blackberry now

I'd like to imagine as Sam was introducing himself, he looked over to Luke like 'oh shit right, he's still just fucking standing there, I should probably include him somehow' and to Sam that ofc meant flirting with him

Which btw is the strangest flirting attempt I've ever seen- "Beautiful little pocket-sized Aryan" and "Sexy little ferret" ?? Guys I've never flirted with anyone but I don't think he's doing it right

"Guten Abend" Luke/Hans isn't good at this flirting thing either, but at least they're both having fun

Two French brothers casually parachuting over Berlin during World War II, nothing weird about that

"Ja- yes- er, oui! I'm trilingual, I'm sorry" Idk if it's the language confusion or the fact he apologized to the nazi, but this was a great line

"The plan is working perfectly, we're making them uncomfortable. Keep it up!" Luke, who has done very little in that regard except respond to Sam: "Okay!!" *just keeps standing there*

"Hard day being a nazi?" Considering you're currently giving him a backrub and are probably about to fuck him, I'd say he's having a pretty good day

Before Luke's BAFTA winning portrayals of grief in The Evil Make-A-Wish Kid and The Grape Depression, we had AJ's sobbing in OMGITAJ

So glad this play was set mainly in France so AJ could show off his French knowledge in the best ways (skipping across the stage and singing)

Sam characteristically entering briefly as an unspecified beast that for simplicity I'm going to call a ram

Genuinely one of my favorite and most underappreciated moments in the video is Katherine assigning Luke's character a feminine name, which he clearly didn't expect, and he just takes a moment to reevaluate life, while staring at the comedically placed banana in his hand. 10/10 fantastic bit

"My husband has been captured" "You know this for sure?" "Well he didn't come home and he's a French spy so" Fair logic that was 100% correct

"I already have a husband" "Well Xavier will have to wait until he's officially dead then" rip Jean-Luc man, at least Sarah seems to genuinely love him and be loyal though, good for them

Tag yourself, I'm AJ fangirling heavy over Xavier as he walks onstage

"I could have mimed it but I did not" has and forever will live in my brain rent free, bro had no reason to do that but took the fucking opportunity

Also Sarah's friend (did she ever get a name?) is simping for Xavier more than Sarah herself, they could've just fucked instead

"I don't know the French word for mice" "C'est une souris, une souris, une souris" French lessons with AJ

I've already made a whole post about my love for pre-reveal Xavier, but jesus, can you blame me? This character is the actual reason I started being attracted to Tom in the first place, why is he so SMOOTH-

Also the fact Luke didn't even flinch when Tom tilted his chair back and just nonchalantly crossed his legs- This whole scene is perfect istg

"I'm just going to take a few pictures-" That's so real of you girl

"I am a man" Gonna start saying this in front of the mirror as affirmations in the morning, same tone and everything

Tom launching himself across the stage before he even has the chance to rebutton his shirt lol

"Look out! It's the nazi-looking guy!" Saying this about the actual nazi is so funny

Not me being genuinely kinda sad about François getting killed

Katherine getting into Sam's carriage with a pumpkin (For some reason??) and Sam pausing not once, but twice, and eventually deciding to proceed as normal and not question it

Jean-Luc: *crying because trauma* Katherine: "Aw.. If you're thirsty you could drink it!" Katherine might've earned her place as my favorite 5th SFTH member they've had

Big Hans showing up with an entirely different vibe from the last time we saw him- Maybe because he's not busy being gay with Ze Blackberry

But really, why is this nazi boy so excited about the french language while he's taking over their country

"Les coqs :D" Sir what is this energy you're putting out, it's confusing me

I like that instead of just saying something like "It's a French horse, why do I care if I kicked it" he's just like "German horses wouldn't give a shit, your horses are just weak"

"Very hairy chickens you have here" A joke they couldn't have made now-

I'd just like to point out that Big Hans didn't get shot from what I could tell, so he could technically still be alive. Idk what to do with that information, I just wanted it out there

Tom pulling his classic sexy-character move: Foot dramatically placed on chair

The cleaner just being like "what a fucking mess, god I hate my job" as if Xavier and Sarah aren't currently having a whole plot-altering revelation in the same room

Oh yeah, and this is also the moment I was very relieved Sarah was a better person than me (/hj) and didn't sleep with Xavier

Also, mostly unrelated, but Katherine's voice specifically as the cleaner reminds me of DHMIS every single time and idk why

"Are you quite finished??" "... Honestly, no"

"But who would do that? Who would do- It was me" He tried to be mysterious but Xavier really wanted credit for what he did

Sam the Ram returns! Very cool that their first video had classics of all kinds: Sam being a chaotic animal, AJ getting to be French, Tom being a sexy German, and Luke being an equally-attractive-but-not-quite-as-played-up woman

"I was tortured by two men gettig with each other next to me" "They're always doing that, the nazis" If SFTH can make nazis gay af, they truly can do anything

Why does Ram-Sam look so offended on behalf of the French after Luke's "It's in my nature" line lmaoo

"Where did you get my dildo!?" Amazing line from Luke, but really what was that thing??

And ofc Xavier dies as he lived.. Shirtless. Sexy evil bastard-

[notbecauseofvictories]

50/50

Well, 2024 sure did...happen.

Anyway! I didn't set any sort of goal to watch 50 films and read 50 books this year, but that's where I ended up. Neither number is exactly accurate, and I'm leaving out television, revisiting what I've already read/watched, and all the ridiculous novels I pick up when I'm hungover, but still. I'm kind of impressed with myself. I didn't get to 50 books last year, and I don't think I've watched 50 movies in a year ever---but the more I watch them, the more I explore what they can do and communicate, the more I want to see. As a lifelong reader, it's interesting to explore a new kind of art, to try and intuit your way in through a strikingly different form of communicating the exact same humanness.

TOP FIVE 2024

FILMS

The Florida Project (2017)

Crimes of the Future (2022)

M (1931)

Something in the Dirt (2022)

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)

It's been months and months since I saw The Florida Project, and I still think about it. The bright and artificial sherbet coloring of it; the dank and mold and shadows that linger around the edges....Actually, I think of all these films in terms of their aesthetics first. Not that there wasn't a story there, but because they all represent such a marriage with form. Consider Crimes of the Future with its fading decay, its browns and rust; M with its stylized, refined cityscape even in the greyscale of 30s cinema; Something in the Dirt where every shot is mundane, or fantastical or both; and We're All Going to the World's Fair, with the particular blue-grey loneliness of the internet age. Surely the benefit of watching a movie (as opposed to anything else) is being presented with something to watch, and I like when directors and creative teams understand that.

Honorable mention to American Psycho (2000) since I'm still a little insane about it---or maybe Corsage (2022) because whether or not it was a good movie, it was nevertheless the most uncompromising, brutal portrait of a historical figure I've seen.

BOOKS

The Rehearsal, Eleanor Catton

Big Swiss, Jen Beagin

Vintner's Luck, Elizabeth Knox

Wylding Hall, Elizabeth Hand

Diavola, Jennifer Thorne

Some people may try to tell you that horror is a discrete genre---I am here to tell you that it's not. All great novels are horror stories, and those listed above especially. From The Rehearsal's self-important artistes, to the therapy-speak Millennials of Big Swiss, to the musicians of Wylding Hall (who miss every sign that Something Is Happening) and the Pace family of Diavola (who deny that the signs mean anything, even after fleeing their vacation home in the night)....all these novels are a study in people experiencing something painful, even terrible. And yet, that provides incredibly fertile territory for their authors to explore the things that come with horror---complicity, desire for closeness, narration and performance, the open wound of family, the thin netting of modernity that keeps us from plunging into something older and darker than we can comprehend.

The only exception might be Vintner's Luck. Not because it's not there as a theme, but because the novel itself spans the narrator's life. By the time he's middle-aged he's committed so many errors, he can't judge too harshly when others do. In this respect it's almost an answer to the questions horror poses---not just how do you survive this? but how do you go on, having survived that?

Honorable mention to Dead Inside, by Chandler Morrison, because it was stomach-turning in the very best way. Echoes of Cipher by Kathe Koja---when an author really knows, really understands, how to wield grossness without shirking or apologizing for it, the result is delightful.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022 | Books of 2023

[f0rs4k3nbyth3sp4wn]

making a post about how the fandom characterises elliot bcs ts pmo icl 🥀🥀🥀

(small cw for mentioned attempted murder towards a child [fictional ofc]. but this is the forsaken fandom so i dont think most people will care. oh also this is a REALLY long post so. beware)

sooo im pretty new to the fandom but after having browsed almost every sfw 7n7 fic on ao3, its safe to say elliot's characterisation (or, well, mischaracterisation), is becoming a HUGE problem. a lot of people make him pissy around n7 and c00lkidd, which, to be fair, he has a right to be pissy! but the way they execute this is where things go wrong.

this is a more extreme example, but here's the gist of an au my friend found on tiktok (not linking for the creator's sake, which, speaking of, if you've seen this au and know the creator, please don't harass them. i mean i shouldn't have to say that but im still putting it out there):

honestly i agree with the last sentence he said, even i know this is bs even though i've only been a forsaken fan for like a week or smth 😭😭🥀🥀 to show you why, let me break down what we do know of how elliot's personality, how he feels about n7 and c00lkidd, and how he expresses it:

he is generally portrayed as a sweet and kind person, who always wants to help wherever he can.

he 'hates' n7 due to what c00lkidd did to the pizzeria (according to the fanmade wiki), though nothing has (canonically) ever been said about his feelings towards c00lkidd himself (to my knowledge)

he is not openly hostile towards n7, and has never canonically said anything 'mean' to his face, only acted passive aggressive (e.g. "...just get going").

i do disagree with his feelings towards n7 being 'hate' rather than just 'strongly dislike' (trust me, theyre VERY different things), but i digress. even if we were to say elliot hated n7, some people portray him as not even hating, but loathing him (this is an even bigger problem in pizzaburger fics/aus imo). if you want to write a complicated/negative relationship between two characters who are not your own, it's vital to know the difference between dislike, hate and loathe (as seen below).

(via langeek.co)

the reason i say elliot strongly dislikes n7 as opposed to hate is because hatred is often accompanied with a sense of hostility (while dislike is more avoidant, which fits elliot more imo when we look at their canon interactions). if you hate someone, you will not want to help them, and to be fair, i've read a handful of fics where elliot straight up refuses to give n7 pizza, or is at least hesitant. i dont think that's how elliot would behave. yes he is mad at n7 for not controlling his son, and has a grudge against him, but at his core, elliot is a kind guy. even if he wasn't, he'd never leave someone to die, no matter how temporary.

but continuing on the whole 'elliot loathes n7' dynamic, it becomes even more jarring when you apply it as an 'enemies to lovers' pizzaburger dynamic. even more so if you don't do the work to make it well paced. here are some tips on how you can do that:

pay heed to the rest of this post and do NOT make elliot too aggressive towards 007n7 in your fic. otherwise, it may feel too forced, especially if you don't want to go through the slowburn route. feel free to let the guy be passive aggressive though, just don't make him feel uncontrollable hatred every time he sees 07 (i prefer to think he feels manageable disdain, though i think you can tell by now).

on the other side of the coin, do NOT make n7 too pathetic. im all for him being a soggy wet cat, but at the end of the day, that's a grown ass man that was once very similar to c00lkidd. at the very least, i don't think he'd be crying left and right, considering this is a former terrorist, lol.

this is more me telling you guys to be creative than giving tips on pacing (since im not very creative myself, so i dont have many tips myself rn) but if you want to write the exact moment elliot began to like and respect n7, i don't really like the idea of n7 achieving that by bodyblocking for elliot?? like. it's not typically executed right bcs again. it often does what i advised against in the above two points. if you wanna do smth like that in your fic/comic, try comprimising by making it a clone block instead, and letting n7 be a REALLY good distractor like those aggressive n7 main. (i left this incomplete on accident when i posted this lol)

just overall make sure elliot is respectful to n7 during the late pining and post establishing the relationship stages!! it's perfectly fine if you want him to say 'mean' stuff to him that he doesnt mean (think of how siblings, friends, and again, sometimes partners, joke with each other. tough love or wtv), but don't make him have a hate boner for the guy lol. unless youre writing smut where there are actual hate boners involved, i aint getting involved in allat.

anyways, idk how to end this post off, so on a more positive note, go check out this pizzaburger yaoilicious peak rn !!! and feel free to add your own opinions, idm having a discussion as long as youre respectful, and am likely to add more to this post if you remind me of smth i might wanna say (im not the best at articulating myself lol) !!

oh and also i made an addition to this post too covering the other characters

[whoishotteranimepolls]

In Defense of Nami and Robin (Off Anon for the pics)

So, yes, Oda's way of drawing women is...not great. But they are written beautifully, and to be fair, Toei (The anime) makes the design issue even worse than it is in the manga. (Also, the way in which they ugly cry is amazing, full snot, tears, wobbly lips, red face).

Nami and Robin are some of the best written, well rounded female characters I've seen. They have similar arcs, with tragic backstories that shaped how they see the world and affects their actions and relationships to others, and they have to learn to rely on others, and ask for help and put their trust in others. They are integral to the plot, Luffy will never be able to achieve his dream of being the Pirate King without them.

So first of all, Nami

Yes, this is probably the best picture of Nami's waist in the series, at least, post-time skip

Nami is the Navigator of the Strawhat Pirates, and an officer of the grand fleet. Unfortunately, the same face syndrome does start with her, a lot of the female characters will have her face. But design aesthetics aside, she is a wonder, complex, and dynamic character.

She was adopted by a marine women and raised on a tangerine farm with her older sister. They were poor, Nami always got her sister's hand-me-downs and their mom often skipped meals to make sure her girls had enough to eat. Nami, was an average 8 year old brat who did resent not having enough money to eat, or have clothes, or to buy navigation books like she wanted. But she was loved. So, of course, pirates attacked her village. They demanded a fine from each of the families in town based on adults and children in the household, and her mom was killed because she only had enough money for the girls. The same pirate, Arlong, made a deal with Nami, she could buy back her village for 100,000 belli, but in the meantime, she had to join his crew and work for him creating maps, where he preceded to work her until her fingers bled. She also became a thief and stole money from other pirates to add to the funds to buy her village back. This is where her catch phrase "I only love money and tangerines!" comes from. She intended to betray the Strawhats, but realized that they were the only people to ever show her love and kindness, and when Arlong betrayed her, she learned how to ask for help, to ease her burdens and rely on others when she needed it. Her scene where she was trying to cut her Arlong Pirate's tattoo off before asking Luffy for help remains one of the most profound moments in anime. While she was saved from Arlong, I wouldn't say she was necessarily a damsel in distress, she tried everything in her power, and part of her arc was accepting she didn't have to be alone. Luffy also never insisted on helping her because she was a weak girl or anything, he didn't care at all about her backstory, he just wanted to hurt whoever made her cry.

Apart of Nami's character is her love of money, desire to create maps and navigate the world, and how much she loves her friends/family and is willing to sacrifice for them, as well as the amount of forgiveness and kindness she is capable of and her love for children. She forgave one of the pirates that kept her as a slave, and when his friend, Camie, was almost sold into slavery, Nami didn't hesitate to spend all the money they had to buy her freedom. She discovered children were being experimented on by a crazy scientist and nearly went scorched earth.

When Nami came face to face with an enemy she couldn't beat, despite being a coward and thinking of herself as weak, she didn't back down because she refused to dismiss her captain. She showed incredible bravery and integrity, refusing to lie and break her ideals.

But she can also hold her own as well, she doesn't always lose or need to be rescued. She fights with a Clima-Tact, a weapon that allows her to summon lightning and use weather phenomena to her advantage. She beat Kalifa, a government assassin, Miss-Double-Finger, one of the strongest assassins in Baroque Works, Hotori and Kotori, and various other pirates. She also is particularly agile and has pretty high endurance. (Bonus points, in an anime filler arc, she is the first character with on-screen confirmed kill)

She also is a very skilled navigator, thief, liar, can predict weather phenomenon, maintains the crew's money and budget, a con artist, and cartography (including sea charts which are very difficult). She loves fashion, money, shopping, and is vain. She also somehow maintains her mom's tangerine trees while on a sailing ship.

The fandom widely considered her to be a lesbian, but of course that is only coding/head canons. But she has had very close relationships to other women in the series, including Vivi, and has expressed that she "has a soft spot for strong marine women."

Nico Robin

Her introduction to the series was strong, as she is one of the strongest members of the enemy faction Baroque Works. She was a serious threat, managing to infiltrate the Strawhat's ship and steal Luffy's hat and living to tell the tale, but she was also very mysterious and compelling. Despite being an enemy, she saved Luffy's life, and expressed amusement over his antics. When she tried to commit suicide in the tombs below Alabasta, after betraying her boss, Luffy saved her life, despite her protests. In return, she snuck back onto his ship and made herself his problem.

Like Nami, she has a tragic past that cause her profound trauma, sadness, a distrust in others, but ultimately, she found hope in the Strawhat pirates, and in Luffy, learning how to rely on them, and in return, being relied on. She can ask for help from them, but they ask for help from her as well.

When she was a child, her mother left to sail the seas and become an archaeologist. She was outcasted by her aunt, and her village, but she was accepted by the scholars who lived on her island. The island's name was Ohara. Against the other archaeologists wishes, she learned how to read the mysterious poneglyphs because she wanted to learn the true history of the world. Her first friend was a giant who washed up on the island and taught her how to laugh. But the World Government outlawed the language of the poneglyphs and learning about the true history. And so, they wiped her island clean off the map in an act called a Buster Call, and every single person but Robin was died. Desperate to capture her, they placed a 79,000,000 bounty on her head when she was only 8 years old, dubbed her a "devil child" and claimed she destroyed several marine battleships. For nearly 20 years she ran from organization to organization, only for all of them to betray her and try and turn her in.

While sailing with Luffy, it was the happiest she had ever been. Despite being an enemy just weeks earlier, they accepted her. Even when she was injured by another enemy, Zoro was pissed on her behalf. SO when the World Government finally caught up with her and blackmailed her into helping them while threatening to enact a Buster Call on the Strawhats (and an innocent island) she agreed to go along with them, even trying to sacrifice her own life so that the Strawhats can escape.

Of course, Luffy declared war on the Government and made Robin admit she didn't want to die, she wanted to live.

Robin is smart, capable, caring, funny, and strong. She just wants to learn history and have a family, and she suffered for years before she was finally able to be free enough to do so. She is a strong fighter because she had to be, and she is completely willing to became a monster and protect her friends. She hasn't been in many fights, but she won all of the ones she was in. She wasn't fooled by mind games and magic of enemies in Wano, and kept a calm and collected head. She is a skilled historian, archaeologist, osteologists, assassin, espionage, linguistics, and was a popular geisha. For most of the series she held the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th, highest bounties in the crew. When an enemy threatened the crew, a different enemy pointed out that, (at least, With Luffy not there) Zoro and Robin were labeled as the strongest and most threatening members of the crew, capable of killing an enemy before the rest of the crew were even aware of the threat. Oh, and she has a demon form.

Other Female Characters: Kiku/O-Kiku/Kikunojo of the Fallen Snow

A canonical transgender women who is also a samurai. She is completely accepted for who she is by everyone in the story, and is another strong and capable female character. She is shy and tries to keep a low profile (despite being 8 feet tall), but is more than willing to defend the weak and win back her home island.

The original ask mentioned healers, and there isn't a whole lot of female doctors/healers in One Piece but there is Dr. Kureha. Kureha is the oldest human character, wears crop tops in winter, and will beat Luffy with a rubber chicken and an axe for calling her old. She taught Chopper everything he knows. She is crotchety and stingy, but an amazing doctor and a professional.

Boa Hancock:

Yes she is the most beautiful woman in the world, and yes, her design leaves some to be desired. But she is also a rape victim and a former slave, she hates men, and runs an empire of female pirates. She shows kindness to Luffy once he establishes he holds no sexual desire for her and wanted so save the lives of people he just met.

Other Notable Female Designs

The first mermaid we meet is Kokoro:

Dadan is Luffy's adopted mom who raised 3 feral boys and is the leader of a band of mountain bandits:

Big Mom is one of the strongest female pirates in the series and has dozens of children:

Vice Admiral Tsuru is one of the strongest female marines:

Boa Sandersonia and Marigold, Hancock's sister with the same backstory :

Lola, one of Nami's friends:

Other Gender Stuff:

Ivankov and Inazuma who are genderfluid, and Ivankov is the Queen of an island of queer people

Bonclay who is genderqueer, refered to as both male and female

And Morley who is also transfem

Despite the character designs, One Piece has some of the best written female characters, even if at first glance they may seem like stereotypical shonen women, they hold much more complexity to them. They aren't all damsels in distress, but their strength goes beyond just being able to kick ass. They are kind and compassionate, and they kindness are rarely seen as a weakness. They are smart and experts in their fields of study, which is wide and varied, from history, cartography, science, and medicine. There are several female rulers of their countries, including Hancock, Vivi, and Big Mom. There is a variety of body types and faces, even if they are lacking in compared to male characters. All of their backstories are unique, fleshed out, and has an impact on their characters and their character arcs.

Did I spend two hours typing a 2000+ word essay on women and started to lose steam? Yes. Am I passionate about female characters in One Piece? Also yes. Can you tell I'm very gay for these characters? Probably. Am I sorry to the mod/followers for the long post? Eh, y'all asked for this lmao. Did I catch all the spelling mistakes in my frantically written essay. Maybe

For context, they are responding to this post about Nami and Robin

I don't have anything else to add other than great work

[fake-bleach]

million dollar man | derek danforth x reader

summary: Derek Danforth takes great pleasure in paying for your company and your company only. He’s also a grade A asshole, who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. You come to him on a strict schedule, and, usually, he respects your life aside from him. But, for some reason, you can’t ever seem to get a hold of an evening with your friends without his intrusions. Corrupted with need, Derek persuades you to come to him with an offer of something.. more. Something that he knows will get your attention. What happens when the night ends in a way you wouldn't possibly expect?

word count: 3k

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!reader (no use of y/n), slight spoilers for "the beekeeper", reader's a broke college student, substance use (reader & derek smoke a joint and get high), (that's the "more" in the summary if that matters to anyone btw), use of pet names (baby, babe), derek's an asshole and a bit toxic (as expected), maybe ooc derek but? in a way, reader makes derek want to be better, a bittt of angst but it's worth it i promise, kissing, yeaa i think that's it, part 2 will have smut ofc!, this is kinda all over the place but i hope it makes sense lmfaoo

authors note: hi! i've been so so occupied w/ college, so i apologize sincerely for my sudden, longgg hiatus :') i miss writing all of the time </3 but, i saw the beekeeper on saturday and felt the need to write again! i've been super into jhutch for the past few months, so i hope you guys enjoy this one <3 part two should be coming asap :) so, consider this my brief comeback? but not really? i'm unpredictable

ao3 link | masterlist

read part 2 here!

Being one of the girls Derek Danforth keeps around, you’re bound to deal with some of the bullshit that comes along with it.

But unbeknownst to you, he likes you a little more than he'd like to admit.

He hasn't seen any of the others in weeks now, his mind only occupied with his thoughts of you and when you're not around. And when you're actually with him, paying for the pleasures of your company, he can't help but want more from you when he knows that's beyond your limits.

It's simple, really.

He's a lonely man, and he knows that; knows that his personality is hard to swallow and tolerate. Knows it's pathetic that all he can do is pay for people to actually stick around.

But, there's only so much a lonely man can take.

So, that's when he starts seeing you, exclusively, ‘cause to be fair? You’re the only one who’s bothered to stay by his side for this long.

The only one who’s ever made him feel.. something.

It’s been a few months now since you started seeing Derek. The first few visits from you immediately captured his attention; your disposition being unlike any he's ever encountered before.

Being surrounded by other like-minded people such as himself, it's safe to say that it's all he's ever known. The rich and prosperous life that everyone else around him has. The ability to get anything he wants in a blink of an eye, regardless of what it was, extravagant or not.

You on the other hand? It wasn't so easy.

Maybe it was because you were so hard to get. Maybe it was because he liked the challenge.

He didn't know why he was so captivated by you. But, what he did know was the fact that he needed to.

"Hey, I know we said next week, but I need you here now."

Derek had called you, urgently as it seemed while you were out. Despite the heads up you gave him about your upcoming plans the last time you saw each other, he didn't care, and that was something you were already preparing for.

"Derek, I told you: I can't do today. We agreed that it was fine." You spoke directly into the phone, walking away from your friends at the club you were at to a quieter area; away from the deafening music that shook every inch of the perimeter.

"Are you at a club right now?"

You sighed exasperatedly, the irritation in your tone evident as you reached an empty corridor near the bathroom, body leaning against the wall. "Yes, Derek, did I have to specify my plans to you as well?"

He let out a small laugh that made you stiffen, throat tightening.

"What's with the attitude, baby? It was a harmless fuckin' question."

You were used to this with him; the casual swearing, the way he spoke to you. It was nothing new, and everything you had already adapted to.

But, God, did it annoy the fuck out of you sometimes.

"No attitude. Just wondering why the hell you need me on my day off. I'm having some fun here, is that a problem?"

"Without me? 'Course it is," He exclaimed, his voice giving off his arrogance, "Why have fun there when you could be doin' that with me here?"

You swallowed sharply and licked your bottom lip, looking up and around you as you shook your head, hesitant on his inquiry. "I don't know, Derek.. I, I'm with my friends. Promised I'd be here tonight.." You paused, "They think I 'see you too much' already, y'know?"

"Fuck what your friends think. Come on, come see me, baby. I'll make it worth your while."

He was desperate, you could tell that much.

You rolled your eyes at that, your declaration already evoking his direct persuasions. "And how would you do that, Mr. Danforth?" You teased, "You know I don't play that shit with you."

He sighed into the phone, "Got something better then. You wanna relax, clear your head a bit? Fuck, I got it all for you," He implied what you thought he did, a slight weak spot that you didn't mind partaking in once in awhile.

He knew you were stressed with college, hence why you took this job in the first place; to ease the expenses you had to deal with. He also knew what you liked.

Still, who were you if one measly opportunity to get high bought you out?

"..And?" The word trailed off your tongue, drawing it out.

"I'll pay double tonight."

Too easy. "Fine."

You straightened yourself out, preparing to make up some lousy excuse to your friends of your departure. One that you knew they'd easily figure out.

"Text me the address."

Done. You heard the ding from the speaker of his phone alert him.

"Sending a car your way. Be out in 15."

You were intrigued by Derek.

Despite how much of an asshole he was, despite the privileged life that he's been able to live; the complete opposite of what you had been given.. you were intrigued by him.

The way he ticked, the way he carried himself.

The way everyone knew so much but so little about the President's son.

You almost felt special that his desires laid with you.

The roads that grew mundane to you towards Derek's estate made your heart race, the familiarity of it all still feeling so unbelievable to fathom.

You weren't like him; you were nothing like him. So, how in the hell did you get in this position?

The abrupt stop of the car you were in snapped you out of your head, and one of the workers Derek had around opened the door for you.

"Welcome back. Mr. Danforth has been waiting for you."

You smiled at the man and nodded, thanking him gracefully as you were led into the absurdly large residence you were still foreign to.

Before you could latch your eyes onto the man expecting you, his voice introduced himself into the room first, capturing your gaze.

"There's my girl. About time." Derek spoke loudly, and proudly at that, rushing towards you eagerly. He wore a blue suit with a cheetah print button up just underneath it, and you couldn't help but admit how nice it looked on him. His outfits could be outrageous at times, but it just worked with him.

You laughed at his remark. "I saw you two days ago, Derek."

He shook his head, grinning as he pressed a small kiss to your cheek. An affectionate gesture that you agreed to in your early days with him. "Two days, too long."

You rolled your eyes and gave him a small side hug, feeling a bit more eased at his calm demeanor. It seemed like he was completely different from the Derek you spoke to on the phone. Maybe he really did just need to see you.

But you? You had no idea why he chose you.

"Well, I'm here now.. What are you gonna do with me?" You tantalized, wanting to fuck with him as much as you could. The rules you set for yourself kept him in check, but you couldn't deny how fun it was to see him squirm.

You were confident, and you knew it. You knew he wanted you. But, you knew your worth, too. You weren't going to be so easy.

At least, not unless it was on your own circumstances.

He took a deep breath and put his hand on your lower back, beginning to lead you towards the abundant living room that he had all to himself. Matter of fact, he had the entire place to himself.

He glanced at your face as you took your steps, explaining himself clearly, "Just what you agreed to, baby. Got what you want right here." He took his hand off of you, walking towards the elegant box on the sofa table that he quickly opened up.

Pulling out something small, he lifted it up to you, revealing the perfectly rolled up joint that put a slight smirk on your face.

Well, here we fucking go.

"You're staying true to your word, Danforth. Just what I like to see," You commented, walking up to him, "Well, don't keep me waiting."

He shook his head and scoffed lightly, "Get comfortable, then."

He sat on the couch and patted next to him, and you followed right along, the lighter suddenly in his hand igniting to present the orange flame that flickered in your eyes.

He placed the joint in between his lips, lighter hovering above the end of it as it makes that familiar sound, papered edges burning crisp. He takes a drag of it, shutting his eyes as he lets the smoke fill his mouth before inhaling it into his lungs. A familiar warmth already seeping into the environment around you.

Without a second to waste, he urges you to come closer, muttering out a, "C'mere baby," before he places the tip of the joint in between your lips for you.

You quickly take the chance to take a drag yourself, repeating his every move as you shut your eyes blissfully, the herbal scent of it filling your nose from Derek's own smoke escaping his mouth.

"Yeah," He draws out, "There you go," He mutters as he watches you intently, taking in your hazy state as you evidently begin to relax. "Feels good?"

You swallow as you flutter your eyes back open to him, slight butterflies spreading to your stomach.

..That was the weed. Not him. Definitely not him.

You just nodded as he pulled it away from you, sleekly mustering out, "Great. Feeling better already."

He smirked at you and cocked his head, "Already? We're just gettin' started, babe."

You huffed and leaned back against the couch, getting yourself more comfortable as you shook your head, "Alright, Mr. Professional over here. I don't smoke as much as you, you know that." You sighed.

"I know, I know, m' just fucking with you. Besides, you got me here now, anyways," He teased, scooting a bit closer to you, "C'mon, open up." He urged you, taking another drag coolly, eyes stuck on you.

You quickly listened, lips parting to open wide, expecting the sudden smoke that filled the air to hit you. He blew it out in your face, making you giggle from the feeling as your lungs took it in.

He licked his lips as his gaze lingered on yours, lips slowly closing shut as your body increasingly felt lighter, the substance overwhelming your foggy brain.

The more the seconds passed, the more his eyes darkened, consuming you completely.

A part of you couldn’t help but like it.

There was something so sensual about it. You knew that; there was no denying it. And maybe it was the weed too, but fuck, did it feel good with him right now.

Right now, Derek Danforth was not the condescending asshole that you occasionally dreaded being around.

Right now, Derek Danforth was slowly becoming the one thing that you craved the most.

Fuck, it really was the weed.

"Give me that." You distracted yourself from your heavy thoughts, reaching for the joint in between his fingers. He handed it to you and leaned back against the couch himself, body angled to face you entirely.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, and now, it was you who was bound to squirm.

You avoided his gaze, taking one last drag before giving it back to him eagerly. There was only so much you could take, and normally you'd want more, but you couldn't help but fear the possibility of any more of it multiplying these thoughts of him.

The feelings that you continuously needed to deny.

Your eyes locked onto the center table just in front of you, suddenly feeling incredibly curious about the intricately built legs that screamed wealth.

Now, he obviously wasn't as high as you, because the next thing that leaves his mouth sounds a bit too coherent for him to be.

"Don't know how you went this long without me."

Your head snapped to him at that, stomach suddenly tightening with confusion at his words. A direct, accusative statement you couldn't have possibly expected to hear from him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just.. with college, with this, with experiences like this.. You need me. Obviously." He exclaimed confidently, as if you should’ve known that already.

There he was. The asshole.

You sharply inhaled, scoffing as you shook your head, staring down at your lap. Your hazy mind can't even help you form words, except for the one phrase that doesn’t do your defense any justice.

"I don't.. I don't need you." The tone of it is light, gentle as it rolls off your tongue, and you hate that you're not in the right headspace for this right now.

He laughs at that. The same laugh that always makes you stiffen, freezing in your place.

"You don't.. you don't need me?" He mocks you as he takes another drag from the joint, putting it out on the ashtray in front of him, "Everybody needs someone, baby.. You shouldn't try so hard to deny that." He taunts you, and you know that it's what he wants from you.

For you to lash out. For you to show him any ounce of vulnerability that you've managed to keep composed since this relationship began.

"Especially not from someone who treats you so.. Right." He whispers out, almost grimly as he leans in closer to you, face merely inches away.

You slowly turn your head now, facing him as you shut your eyes gauzily, mind still lost in your mix of emotions. You hate him; you want to hate him so badly, but you can't.

Some fucked up part of you can't let yourself.

But, that doesn't stop you from putting up a fight.

"You treat me.. right? Is that what you think?" You begin, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to hold yourself back, "You're an asshole, who treats everyone like shit, Derek."

He laughs, a cruel noise escaping his lips; an unexpected action that urges you on, pushing you further.

"You.. You completely disregard my feelings, my, my plans, everything in my life that doesn't have anything to do with you, you're unbearable, you—"

He cuts you off then, inching closer to you as he grins at that, "Then why the fuck do you stick around? If I'm so fucking unbearable, baby, why do you bother with me?"

"Because maybe.. there's some part of me that hopes you'll stop being such a piece of shit, Derek!" You explode now, aggravated and pushed to your limits. Pushed to show you care for him in some way.

Was this his plan all along?

You don’t know, but you let out one final remark, unable to control yourself now that you've already begun, "But, I don't fucking need you. You need me." You spit out, your seething glare locked on him.

"I need you?" He spews out, almost as if it's too unbelievable to even hear.

"Yeah, you need me."

"I need you?" He repeats bitterly.

You swallow, blatantly whispering, "You need me, Derek."

He continuously denies you, his composure slowly leaving him the more you open your mouth. 

“I don’t need you. I don’t fucking need anyone.” He’s quick to say defensively as he turns away from you, refusing to allow you to get to him.

But, you know it now. You’re getting under his skin.

You press further, head closing in near his to make sure he hears your words loud & clear.

“You randomly pulled me out of my plans tonight and brought me here, Derek. What fucking for? I know you didn’t just need my fucking company. Not after you persuaded me to come. I know you better than that now.”

He shakes his head, rapid and tense, unknowingly egging you on.

“Why do you care about what the fuck I do? Who I see? Hell, even my fucking life! I thought this was all just business to you. What happened to that?”

He pauses then, processing it all. Something he's never been compelled to do before.

“..What happened to that, Derek?” You push, tone composed & steady now.

Before you can continue your little speech, before you can push him any further, he crumbles instantly; voice direct and harsh as he finally reviles into your exertions.

"I don’t—I don’t fucking know, okay! Yeah, maybe you're fucking right. Maybe that's why I always want you around. Maybe that's why you're the only fucking person that I ever want to be around. I—I just—"

“You just what?” You need to hear it, desperation seething through your voice.

He bursts out now, head turning to face you as he spits out his confession. “I can’t fucking think of anything else but you. I can’t be around anyone else without wishing it was fucking you.”

There it fucking is. But, he’s not done.

“You drive me fucking crazy, baby,” He laughs at himself, pathetic with his vulnerable words that no one else has ever gotten to hear, “And I don’t know what the fuck to do ‘cause I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but fuck, maybe I.. I do fucking need you, I don’t fucking—”

You can’t control the next thing you do.

Well, maybe you can, but you really don’t fucking want to.

It's your turn to cut him off now, after the countless times he’s done it to you; by placing your lips on his, eager and desperate as your hands slip from your lap to cup his face and pull him in close, chasing the high of his lips on yours.

He shuts his eyes as you do the same, swallowing sharply once you break it apart, eyes set on him as you await his response.

His wide eyes lock onto yours now, and he whispers out your name, shocked and unsteady, and almost in an attempt to stop you.

"God, just shut up for once." You interrupt him, pushing your lips back onto his before he can protest any further. He moans into your mouth, hands moving to grip your hips eagerly, his body closing in on you completely.

Let's just say, you don't feel so high anymore. You’re no longer confused.

You're more sure of this than anything in your fucking life.

-

part two should be coming this week! feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[teddybeartoji]

this going to be a proper wordvomit but i've been thinking about a fucked up little dazai thing,, like what if you two were at the port mafia together when you were younger? orphaned and molded into a perfect little killing machine alongside with him and chuuya.

oh, but what's your ability? well, it's awfully similar to yosano's but it's.. more selfish. while she can also save and heal others, you can't. your ability only works on yourself - you're unkillable. even the smallest cuts fade on your skin, the remainders of everything you've gone through disappearing within hours. you still feel it though. the pain.

you just never fucking die.

tied up, tortured. beaten. cut. shot at. broken bones and bruises. you've seen them all, you've felt them all. but it shouldn't matter.

it shouldn't. this is who you are, right?

you've seen people die hundreds of times, wishing it were you instead. what is the point of this ability if you can never actually do anything useful with it? you're one of the best sharpshots at the port mafia and you know you're way around just about every melee weapon there is but you're still no real competition to the people with real powers. you're just another tool, another soldier. just a shell of a person, sent out mission after mission, no matter whether the fractured bones have already healed or not.

anger builds. shame builds.

something murky.

and it only gets worse after dazai leaves. he understood. he didn't ever say it, but he did. and now he's gone. he's left you behind; there's nobody to lick your wounds or to match your tone and darkness.

and then word gets around that there's someone with an ability similar to yours but better. more useful. and you just... lose it.

mori has no hold on you. he sees it in your eyes, so he doesn't stop you from leaving. you don't say goodbye to chuuya, only leaving him a fancy bottle of wine as a thank you for always having your back. and a note. something along the lines of seeking out your other half.

he's the only one who can do it.

you dream of him wrapping his bandaged hands around your neck and squeezing until you can feel tears dropping onto your face, until your vision blurs, until you can't breathe. until you can't come back anymore. of course, he wouldn't want to do it. he's killed more than anybody could count but with you, it's different. he's finally found something to live for and you haven't. he offers for you to come to the ada with him, he assures you that fukuzawa would listen to him but it doesn't matter.

you're smiling and he isn't. it isn't funny anymore. the gun pointed at kunikida isn't funny anymore. dazai won't do it unless you force him; you know it's going to be hard but you accept it as your one last mission. you will draw your one final breath at the hands of the man who's always been there for you. your friend. your partner.

the only one who should understand.

should.

but maybe he's not who you thought he was. maybe he truly has changed. maybe he really is a better man now. it doesn't matter. you'll break him one last time and let him live his new life. it's only fair.

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.5 (Verbena)[Chapter ending] a1d1

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 1,076

TO THE UNAWARE: THIS IS A PROGRESS UPDATE OF A CHAPTER NOT REMOTELY CLOSE TO DONE! PLEASE DON'T EXPECT A FULL OR POLISHED PRODUCT HERE

Notes: This is the ending for Ch. 5 as of now <3 She has no middle lol this is just how we roll o7 I've been writing these in spurts of sleep deprived inspiration i can't wait to read them back lmao what kind of hot mess am i making of this chapter rn?

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, There are many vague things that could need warnings but i'm not sure they do? lmk

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Main Part (Unfinished </3)

You don’t know why you don’t cry to Taylor as soon as you get home. He’s more invested in all of this drama than you at this point, but still. You don’t tell him. You decline his invitation to eat dinner and listen to the latest gossip from his work, heading straight to your room.

Well, you say you don’t know why, but you do. If you’d stop to think about it for more than half a second, you do.

You’re tired of unloading on him. The two of you were close, but the past few days had really put you in each others pockets in a way you didn’t think you were quite comfortable with. You were used to working through your troubles on your own, and you didn’t like to trouble Taylor when he already did so much for you, but you couldn’t stay quiet around him either.

Something about being prodded made you explode every time.

So, you smiled at him, pretended nothing was wrong that he didn’t already know, and fled to your room. Ran away like you always do.

It’s fine.

Instead of taking comfort in your best (and only, a mean little voice points out) friend, you dig around your room for a while, looking for the really nice noise-canceling headphones your sister had given you for a birthday forever ago.

Your sister had always been something of an audiophile, on account of the whole music snob thing, so she’d taken personal offense to your best headphones being a cheap pair of earbuds that had probably survived more than their fair share of accidents.

In the single most touching move anyone had ever made on your behalf, she’d saved her own money for months to buy you this pair, presenting them to you with the proudest grin you’d ever seen, insulting you with every breath but so, so caring beneath it.

You’re slammed with the memory of her toothy grin when you finally find the headphones, tucked carefully away in the bottom drawer of your desk. You couldn’t describe the feeling the memory leaves you with. Regret, affection, guilt, love.

The wonderful storm of a sibling, you supposed.

‘She doesn’t know about my soulmates.’ you muse as you turn the headphones in your hands.

In the end, you do nothing about that. You just clamber into your bed, bury yourself in far too many soft things, and jam the headphones over your head.

Your relationship with music is, like most things, complicated. You could live and breathe music, you rarely let a moment be truly silent. You don’t think you could stand it if you did.

And yet, you never rarely listened to music either. Not truly, not deeply, not the way some people let it consume their air in their lungs and burn the blood in their veins.

Maybe because you knew full well how deeply you felt it, when you allowed yourself to. You’d spent many nights as a teen laying in bed, not feeling real, letting music explain your emotions to you.

It was a habit you’d stopped when you’d accidentally freaked your sister out. One night you’d been far too overwhelmed, far too done with life, far too ready to fade away into oblivion. Your sister had come to bother you about something or other, as she always did, and as you always let her (because before her there was nothing to be bothered about, anyway).

Except, that day, for whatever reason, you’d taken your astral projecting to some banger playlist or another a bit too far. She’d tried calling for you, tried shaking you, pinching you. She’d waved her hand in your face, tugged at your hair, pulled out your headphones, anything she could think of in that moment.

Eventually she’d started crying, calling for your parents, and crying harder when no one responded. It was her wailing cries that had finally roused you, and she’d gone from sorrow to rage so quickly you’d gotten whiplash.

The way your sister tells the story, you’d looked halfway dead. Eyes half-lidded and vacant, breath shallow and slow, as still as a corpse. Her first thought had been drugs, but there’d been no trace of any when she’d ransacked your room after. She’d been the one to do the research, to badger you into therapy, to force you to live.

So yeah, you hadn’t really indulged since.

But tonight- tonight you had an agenda. Tonight you were going to get to know your soulmates. Exposure therapy or whatever.

You were especially looking for insight into 3Racha tonight. You knew they were the producing unit of the band, that they wrote, composed, arranged, and produced a majority of Stray Kid’s songs. You held a deep belief in being able to know someone through how they created.

You were of the firm opinion that one couldn’t hide themselves in art. No matter how far art diverged from the artist, one would always leave a piece of oneself behind in their work. From the way writers told their stories, to how painters chose their colors, to the melodies that emerged from a musician. Every word, every color, every note, it all held a bit of their creator.

It was a philosophy you’d been reminded of at the museum today. In every painting you’d discussed, throughout all the differing opinions you’d held on their meaning, their stories, their emotions, you could eventually tell which artist had made what painting.

Even before properly analyzing the techniques and subjects, after a while there was a certain vibe about a painting and, sure enough, when you checked it was the artist you thought it was. It was probably a consequence of spending far too long studying far too many paintings for a chance to talk to (who you know knew was) your soulmate, but still.

Even for a fraction of a moment, you’d been connected to the artists. You’d known them then, even in the vaguest of senses.

As you scroll through the Spotify profile of your soulmates, you figure they have plenty of material around for you to get to know them in this way.

With this resolve in your heart, you hit shuffle on the “This Is Straykids” playlist, pull up the details with the song credits, and settle in to study.

And, if the music carries you away to somewhere softer, somewhere warmer, somewhere less scary, well. You could use the help.

The 'Everything Always' Tag List: @chancloud8 , @sh0dor1 ,

Beloved Betas <3: @brbwritingfanfic , @lazyfacecowboy

The Petal List (aka, SGAU update tag list <3): @4ng3l-ch1ld , @sunfk88 , @kaleigh-2002

(If you'd like to be added to a progress taglist, comment below for this series or on this post for any of my other series <3)

[dorkydegeneracy]

Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid really have been giving two of the best performances I think I've ever seen on TV. IWTV is honestly the most Succession-quality show I can remember from the last few years, though to be fair I haven't seen Shogun yet (I'm very behind).

EXACTLY!

I did watch Shōgun, and that show actually is absolutely deserving of all of its accolades. Granted, it doesn't scratch that itch in my hippocampus like IWTV does, but that show is phenomenal. Definitely Succession, Thrones, The Crown level imo.

This next part isn't for you nonnie, but it is highly relevant, so I'm gonna tack it on!

I am in no way suggesting that The White Lotus and Severance are bad shows. I've only seen bits of Lotus, so I truly can't give a great opinion on it. I have seen a good bit of Severance though, and I do thing that what they have created there is a very interesting story and definitely deserves recognition.

That being said, I wholeheartedly believe that if anybody watched both Severance and IWTV and had to pick which show was better, they would pick IWTV. I believe that is true, even for people who do not fuck with "genre shows." I mean, Severance is a dystopian, so the whole genre show thing is kinda moot.

The performances that Jacob and Sam deliver as the leads of this show are peak acting performances. Hands down. Even the supporting cast give performances that outshine some of these nominees.

Which is why I do think that their lack of representation in the acting categories is the most frustrating. Because if you are just gonna dismiss a show because it's about vampires and you prefer a more traditional drama okay. That pisses me off, but okay.

But what I WILL NOT tolerate is the idea that the people who are bringing Louis, Armand, Claudia, Daniel, and LESTAT to life ffs are not among the best actors on TV right now. I refuse to accept that.

Thank you for letting me continue my bullshit! Somebody has to stand up for these guys, so I volunteer as tribute!

[criminalmindswhore]

All My Love

Emily breaks the heart of a granola girl during one of her assignments. Then she gets famous and writes a song about her

Stealing Noah's song for this idc, I got inspired listening to it today. this shit is long ass hell you better come with a plate, although idk if i cooked. this might be confusing to follow, hey who's to say?

word count: 2.4 K

a clusterfuck of angst and fluff

The cold bit her immediately, and Emily pulled her jacket tighter as she waited for her taxi outside the Burlington Airport. Somehow, Vermont was colder than D.C., and her fingers ached for warmth. The roads were covered in ice, so the taxi took forever, and he clocked her "official-ness" as soon as she opened her mouth. Which led to a slew of questions she didn't want to get into. She fell into her short-term apartment and loathed Vermont before her shoes came off.

She comforted herself in the shower with boiling hot water and the reminder that it was only for a year. She was here to work the field office and then move on. The cold tiles reminded her why she was already pissed.

To add to her reasons to despise Vermont, her rental car was an hour late the next morning, making her late for work. The field office smelled of cedar, both real and fake, overwhelming her senses. The director of the office was kind and shook her hand like he believed she could handle the job, which helped. She started the paperwork with ease and slid into a comfortable pattern over the next week.

Then she ached with boredom, and it turned out that seeing only the grocery store, office, home, and roads wasn't enough stimulation for a trained spy. The field work was minimal; there weren't enough people to cause national security threats. One Saturday, she had enough and finally found the closest bar to her, navigating the ice and smiling when the place smelled awful. Beer, BO, and fried foods were the signs of a place where she could exist for stimulation without being forced to interact with anyone. She found a comfortable stool against a wall and ordered a beer and a basket of fries. Barely watching the news on the TV and eavesdropping on strangers' conversations, she barely noticed the woman slipping into the stool beside her. That was until her elbow bumped Emily's, "Sorry," You quickly threw out before ordering a beer.

Her gaze fell on you, fry in hand, she took in your Blundstones, the North Face laying on your lap, and the Pura Vida bracelets adorning your wrist. That, paired with the leaf tattoo on your finger, told her everything she needed to know. Emily looked back at her fries, fighting off the urge to verify her assumptions about you, that was until you spoke up, "You are so not from around here." She found your eyes taking in her own appearance. She laughed once, something guarded, "and you are the most Vermont person I've ever seen." Your eyes squinted as you chuckled, "Fair, but you might want to invest in non-leather boots, those won't survive the salt every day." You casually sipped your beer, that being the end of the conversation.

Until the bartender slipped you your bill and you looked at her, "When did you get here?" Emily set her empty glass down. "Last week." You smiled, "Then this is on me, consider it a welcome gift from a stranger." Before she could stop you, the bartender had already run your card for both tabs. You signed the receipt with a smug smile and stood up, "Have a good night, transplant." Emily stood behind you, yanking her coat off the back of the stool, suddenly feeling invested in you, "I don't even get to know your name?" You opened the door and stepped outside, looking back at her, a hesitant look on your face. Emily just looked at you like she deserved to know the name of the person who bought her fries and bad beer, then tried to run away into the night. "Fine," you extended a hand to her, "Y/n." Emily took it with a smug smile. "Emily."

The next weekend, Emily spotted you in the grocery store and felt only slightly embarrassed when you approached her loudly exclaiming her name. Maybe a familiar face wasn't an awful idea. Standing beside you in the poultry section, the fridge lights making her cheekbones pop. You hated yourself for how your eyes ran over them as she spoke, "Here I was thinking I wouldn't ever see the nice stranger again." You wrangled her phone number from her, convincing her she might need the local mind for something.

You hated transplants, but something about her was different. Her smile shone differently. Emily hated Vermont, but you had this magnetic energy to her. You were one of the many granola girls in this town, but you meant it, and she could tell. It didn't help that you smiled at her like she was worth knowing.

It ended poorly on Emily's part. The year came to an end, and she couldn't bear the idea of staying in Vermont another day, D.C. calling her home. She could smell the blossoming trees outside the Capitol when she walked through the floral section of the grocery store. Picking out the flowers that said "I'm sorry for leaving you" best. She got back in her rental car and sighed, "I hate Vermont."

Emily was able to ignore the singer from the north for nearly 10 years before the song in the restaurant made the late summer brunch with the girls feel like she was standing in Vermont's cold. Her body went rigid, and her hands froze, stopping mid-sentence. Penelope looked at her concerned, "What just happened?" JJ shrugged, "She was just fine, Emily?" She swallowed, eyes darting to the speaker like it offended her. JJ's gaze followed, "The song? It's been blowing up lately, some girl in Vermont." Emily's hand dropped her fork and knife, a shiver running over her. Penelope looked at her with sudden curiosity. "Emily, weren't you stationed in Vermont before the BAU?"

She could've died in that moment, but instead she slid JJ two 20-dollar bills and nearly ran from the restaurant. Her car door slammed shut as she opened YouTube, furiously typing your name. There you were with a 2 million subscribers, holy shit. When she left you behind, you were hitting a thousand. Remembering the chorus she had heard before darting away, she took a guess at the song.

The lyrics hit her in the chest, each line pulling her back into a different whirlwind of emotions.

How have things been? Well, love, now that you mention it My folks still talk, they speak in these two-words sentences I'm sayin' too much but you know how it gets out here No winter coat could keep out all the cold of your atmosphere

We once sang Retrograde, we'd shake the frame of your car Now I know your name, but not who you are

You had had enough of Emily keeping you at arm's length, never letting you in fully. Despite the nights shared on mountain tops, sharing secrets, you never got fully let in. It drove you wild; she would tell you her secrets, but not how she felt. Not who she truly was, you could feel it. Knuckles rapped at the apartment door, and she opened it in her PJs, "Y/n, hi." Her tone was soft and warm as you pushed past her, stopping with your back to her. "Y/n?" She asked, worried.

You exhaled and turned to her, "I know I talk a lot, I have a tendency to overshare, but sometimes I wish you would at least try to do the same." She looked confused, which made you take a sharp breath. "My parents might be getting a divorce. Will you tell me something you're currently going through now? Not a past struggle, Emily, please just tell me something you're actively working through, let me in, please." Emily's breath hitched. This wasn't short-term behavior.

"Y/n, you don't have to do this." You stepped towards her, "Yes, I do. I can see you carrying the weight of something every day, and I wish you would let me help carry it." Her chest clutched, a pained breath escaping from her, "Y/n, I'm okay." You let out a defeated sigh, "Emily, please, let me know you." Your hand reached for her hip, a pained whimper leaving her. It was safer for her to pretend after Doyle, act like she was fully in. He fell for it. Why weren't you?

It's all okay There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love

You got all my love while I'm still out here With the pills and the dogs, if you need me, dear I'm the same as I was, it's all okay There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love You got all my love

Emily's eyes snapped open, and a ragged breath forced itself from her lungs, her hands clutching her phone. She called herself delusional until the next verse.

Write me a list of how it is, of how it was, of how it has to be You burrowed in under my skin, what I'd give to have you out for me I still recall how the leather in your car feels And at the end of it all, I just hope that your scars healed

After the argument in her apartment, Emily did what she did best. Make a list, well, two. One about Emily before she survived Interpol and one about Emily now. She titled them, "how it was", "how it is". She wrote out bullet points about life events, fun facts, and interests, proudly presenting the list to you. She sat in the driver's seat in her rental car, the leather burning her thighs under the summer sun. Your eyes scanned it slowly, a smile building on your face. "Emily, this is," a chuckle, "this is your way of doing what I said I needed from you," you looked at her, "Thank you for hearing me, it's perfect." Emily's heart hammered in her chest less from fear but something new, something developing.

You read further, your brow furrowing, "Wait, you served overseas?" She nodded, "Yeah, I can't tell you much, but it's what I'm currently, actively working through." Your head snapped to her, eyes misty, and she wearily met your gaze. "Emily," the space loaded. She swallowed, "I don't expect you to be able to carry much because it's so under lock and key but it's hard for me to let you in because of that." She paused, "and my mother but that's less relevant for current Emily." You smiled at her with pride, "Thank you letting me in Em."

Emily couldn't help what came next; her hand slipped across the console to grip yours, "I love you." The words jarring her as she heard them, realizing she had said them. Your mouth fell open slightly, processing before you gripped her hand tighter, dropping the paper, "I love you, too." She let out a relieved breath, but something in her screamed to run. She would have to in 6 months anyways.

You didn't give her the chance to spiral because your lips pressed against hers softly, clearing her mind of anything but you. "Is that where you got those badass, sexy scars from?" A smirk on your face, and Emily laughed at your attempt to help.

Well, I leaned in for a kiss thirty feet from where your parents slept And I look so confident, babe, I swear, I was scared to death My hands gripped the wheel, I smiled stupid the whole way home Well, those five words in my head, you said, "I'll never let you go"

Emily closed her eyes and leaned against the car window, her phone slipping into her lap as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The memory of her parents making a surprise visit for Christmas pained her to this day. It was way closer than she ever intended for you to get, despite how much she loved you.

The two of you were enjoying a quiet Christmas Eve on her couch, not able to tell where she started and you ended. Whispered jokes and sweet nothings filled the space until an abrupt knock took it over. Emily walked to the door, concerned, and nearly yelped when she looked through the peephole. A quick, quiet sentence to you was the last you saw of the real Emily: "They don't know I'm gay."

Once her parents were asleep in her room, she found you in the hallway, coat over your arms. She sighed and looked at the ground, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I wanted to be with you tonight." You grabbed the hem of her shirt innocently, "It's okay, I know you didn't want them here either." She smiled, "Very true." Her arms wrapped around you, finally relaxing as your scent overtook her.

She knew her time in Vermont was coming to a close in a few weeks, and she held you tighter, "I'll never let you go, Em." Her heart sank, and she burrowed into your neck, "I love you." Your heart soared, missing the sadness hiding under her voice, "You've got all my love, transplant."

There ain't a drop of bad blood, it's all my love You got all my love

As the last chorus played, a tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it. Fuck. She fucking hated Vermont. A text from Garcia snapped her from it, and she opened it. A phone number sat there, staring at her with no explanation. She didn't need it, she knew whose it was. Emily swallowed, and she hit call, taking a calming breath before putting it to her ear. "Hello?" Your voice sent her heart rate sky high again, "Hi stranger."

You dropped the pen you had in your hand and spun around in your chair. The task at hand loomed behind you as Emily Prentiss spoke from your phone. "Transplant?" Your breath hitched, and you almost saw stars. Emily didn't know what to say, so something just came out: "All your love?" The words felt like a punch from her mouth, the song pouring from your own countless times.

Despite it being for her, her knowing it was about her felt like you were caught with your hand in a cookie jar. Your cheeks turned red, and you shrank in your seat. "Um- so you heard the song?" A laugh, "Yeah, I did." Her voice was thick, "You didn't answer my question."

Fucking FBI agents, "Yes, still somehow, you in DC?"

"Where else would I be?"

A single breathy laugh, "I'm on the way."

Not proofread because I dont wanna

[laura1633]

It makes me laugh so much that blogs that used to like Lando, now switch sides as well with all his comments.

I know drivers say a lot of stuff in the heat of the moment, but with Lando it's EVERY SINGLE TIME. For me it was over, when he threatened ending the friendship with Max if Max didn't apologize to him. I've had such a person in my personal life, it was hell. If you ever did something that wasn't what they wanted/liked, our friendship was threatened. Once again, heat of the moment, I get that to a certain degree, but these thoughts have to swirl around somewhere, saying such things don't come out of the blue, unexpected. It just showed me that Lando isn't the nice and caring person he's trying to portray.

Lando also has the uncanny ability to make a cooldown room and podium ceremony uncomfortable as hell when he was wronged in his eyes (aka if he doesn't win).

I know Max doesn't care and won't stop being "friends" with Lando, but oh, how I wish he would.

Btw, Laura, do you think we'll see an implosion of Landoscar?

Guys this is an anti post and I have tagged it as such, I have also put my thoughts under the cut. Know that I will not be consistently anti posting but post races I will have my little say and then try and let it go and concentrate on Lestappen.

And I have seen negativity about anti tags but I think its fair to use them so that people can filter these type of things out.

Yeah I have noticed that too anon! I have tried my best not to overly anti post. I have quite a few anti lando asks lately that I have wanted to respond to but decided to just leave it but over and over again he says the most infuriating things. 

I think I might be the same as you in terms of when it was all over for me because that comment he made was also around the time I blocked all the LN tags so I didn’t have to think about him. 

Heat of the moment in the car I understand so I always let that slide a little because they are under immense pressure. After the race my tolerance for what people say lowers because whilst the adrenaline is still pumping I think you have the time to pick your words more carefully. 

If I were to compare the way Max has spoken about Lando and how Lando has spoken about Max it is a world of difference! The maturity levels do not match up. 

What I dislike most of all is how we are expected to have a lot of sympathy towards Lando for the anti comments (and yes I agree we shouldn’t be going online and sending abuse) but I truly believe that he himself happily plays up to the press the narrative that Max is too aggressive knowing full well the hatred Max has received over the year and believing the press will lap it up and run with it.  I can not stand the ‘he is the bad guy’ and ‘I am the victim’ narrative.

Yesterdays comments about Max not racing smart annoyed me so much. I genuinely think he wants Max to just let him past because he has the fastest car. It feels like someone who has never been told no and just stomps their feet when people do not do what they want. I also do not rate his overtaking skills at all - we have seen it a lot recently against Max, Charles and Lewis who were all able to keep him behind much longer than the car difference should have allowed them to and showed the difference in quality. 

I used to rate Lando as he pulled in consistent results but right now he is only winning because he is in the fastest car because lets not forget that he needed a championship winning car in order to even win a race.

I don’t really know too much about what is happening with Landoscar. As a ship, if the battle turns toxic I still expect people to ship them because we have seen that with ships in the past. In terms of their in real life ‘relationship’ a championship battle surely will have an impact. I think right now as Oscar has the upper hand he will just be quietly getting on with things but there is no way Lando will be happy with coming second (which is fair, they should not want to be second!) If Lando starts giving Oscar the treatment he gives Max in the press that would be very interesting!! 

[pandemonini]

Its 3am so its time to drop my hot take/short haphazardly-written character analysis

I've been talking about bllk a lot and I keep saying the "real Reo" but I realise I'm being a bit vague about it so I've decided to just rant a little. And yeah Nagi will be a big part of it but I mean you can't talk about Reo without bringing up Nagi.

Reo is petty.

At the start of the manga he's literally supposed to be a Regina George-type of character, a filthy rich young master who talks back to his parents who spoiled him rotten but never actually properly raised him. He talks about wanting to be independent, not like his parents, wanting to get something with his own hands, without even knowing what half of that means because of course he doesn't. He's 17 and rebellious and was raised to think he can get anything he wants and also that he'd be perfect at everything. He used daddy's money to gather an entire team of professionals+other resources to train for becoming a footballer without realising that was already sort of betraying the vision he had for himself.

In that sense, Nagi is very much the one and only thing Reo truly "found" and claimed for himself. And it's going to stay that way because unlike the World Cup which is an object that, again, Reo very much still relied on his parents to get to (not just in terms of the costs for his training, he also used their connections to gather the Hakuho team which is what led to him and Nagi being picked for the Blue Lock project), Nagi is a person who Reo insistently followed until Nagi grew to like him back and they became friends.

Except... did they?

The way Reo talks about Nagi very much implies a sense of objectification that's very hard for me to ignore. I think people have talked about this already, but the use of the term 宝物 (treasured object/possession) in reference to Nagi, when he could just use 宝 and have it sound less objectifying, is definitely a good point, but more so than that, there is the use of phrases like him "finding" Nagi (he didn't, he bumped into him and happened to witness Nagi's talent), or "stealing" him from Isagi (implying he doesn't believe Nagi had the mind or agency of making that choice for himself, it was a third party who made him do it).

In fact, Reo ignoring Nagi's agency is kind of a recurring thing. I know the beach conversation from the game was seen as cute by most people, and fair enough it was very funny, but the first half of it was honestly nightmarish because I think a lot of us have experience with that one person in our lives who literally doesn't even listen and tries to force their great ideas on us. Nagi told him "no" about the vacation not once, not twice, but three times and Reo pretended not to hear him each time.

Nagi isn't particularly observant or sensitive to how people treat him. The only times he is ever angered is when someone deliberately and repeatedly antagonises him (or when someone hurts Reo or talks badly about him). When he got snubbed at school for being from a small town and from an average background, he either didn't realise it for what is was or just kind of took it because they just weren't in his orbit enough for him to care (see again: the light novel). If he thought about not wanting to be Reo's toy, it's because Reo treated him in that kind of way enough that Nagi not only became aware of it, but felt angered by it.

Reo's behaviour towards Nagi being problematic, especially in the earlier chapter of their relationship, isn't indicative of some kind of abusive tendency on his part, or him actually deliberately wanting to harm Nagi in some way. I think it's very much a consequence of his upbringing, and in all fairness, he's still young. I think that in his mind, the lines between "treasured person" and "treasured object I own" are blurred to the extent that he doesn't understand the difference. But if Nagi is to be resented for one (1) instance of losing his temper, then it should be fair game to do the same about Reo and how he treated Nagi and the fact that he had no regard for boundaries, be it about Nagi's autonomy or his personal space.

I kind of resent the Additional Time bit for showing Chigiri being that understanding of Reo when that was never the vibe in the manga, not because I think Reo didn't deserve comfort but because it created a miconception of the events. There is a point to the confrontation scene in the baths and it wasn't just Reo's declaration of their rivalry but to show how Reo's reaction was very much extreme in comparison to Chigiri and Kunigami over, you know, the exact same thing.

Here are two groups of friends. One of them does appear upset over one of their group leaving, but he ultimately understands it because this is the kind of place they're in and they're all working towards the same goal. That, versus:

Chigiri and Kunigami are being competitive. They are upset. But they get it. They're still willing to talk to Isagi normally, to smile and laugh with him. Reo wasn't because Reo's issue wasn't being separated from his friend, it was losing his grip on something he believed he owned, and having the rug pulled out from underneath his feet because suddenly he realises he's not the best when he's so used to being perfect.

And none of that is Nagi's fault.

I don't feel like pulling up the actual screenshot because I don't have it saved, but Nagi thinks in his inner monologue that he's being selfish when he made the choice of temporarily separating from Reo to join Isagi and Bachira. Nagi was aware his decision would upset Reo. What he didn't foresee was the sheer extent to which Reo would be upset, because why would he? Again, Reo's reaction wasn't normal, and again I'm not saying he didn't deserve to be comforted, but as far as Nagi is concerned, he made the decision that Reo would be most approving of once he got over the initial sadness, and then they would both pick up their pace and move forward even if they're not on the same team.

Because it was Reo himself who said this to Nagi:

The reason Reo's self-esteem was shattered to that extent had everything to do with his own misconceptions about himself being challenged, Nagi's actions were just a catalyst. He thinks of himself as a "natural born emperor" (citation: light novel), and was the furthest from having anything resembling self-doubt when he originally set out to win the world cup, which, again, speaks to how much his privileged upbringing influences his way of thinking. It wasn't until he felt like he'd lost Nagi, and by extension his ticket to the WC, that he crash landed back on earth and suddenly reevaluated his entire life.

Nagi can't be expected to understand parts of Reo that he himself wasn't aware of. Nagi tried to reach out to him, and at every turn Reo projected his own self-deprecating thoughts onto him, until he drove him away.

So has anything changed? Debatable.

I think that Reo has certainly matured and has a much more realistic view of himself now than he did beforr. But to date, I think he still doesn't actually realise that how he thinks about/treats Nagi isn't what constitutes a normal friendship. Which, tbf, theirs wasn't ever meant to be one.

Reo's words in the Harajaku chapter are very revealing in terms of showing that he was at least very aware of the transactional nature of their relationship. I don't think Reo ever looked at Nagi as a whole person, his vision of him just changed from Nagi being a treasure he owns (beginning of their relationship) to Nagi being a prize he wants to win (post-separation) to Nagi being a delicate thing he needs to salvage (post-reunion), but never quite "Nagi my friend who is a three dimensional person".

We still haven't gotten Reo's perspective on why he blocked Nagi, but considering his thoughts in the chapter immediately before we find out he's blocked Nagi, as well as him his apology to Nagi when he got locked off, there are two options for why he did it:

1) He blocked Nagi in an effort to cut himself lose from him because he couldn't stop thinking about him, which kept him from focusing on his goals (which is very in-character for Reo.)

2) He blocked Nagi because he believed this is the best decision for him and Nagi should be "free" from him in order to grow and not be hurt by him anymore.

One of these is obviously more cold-hearted than the other, but hear me out: neither of them are justification nor do they address the crux of the issue which is Reo disregarding Nagi's agency. In the first case, his action comes across as him discarding Nagi when he no longer had use for him. In the second case, he once again prioritised his own idea of what's good for Nagi above what Nagi himself would want. In both cases, he didn't grace Nagi with a word of explanation, which, btw, Nagi actually did explain himself to Reo when he initially separated from him, even if he did so a bit awkwardly and vaguely. He told Reo, "we will be the best, that is a fact", letting him know he isn't discarding their promise. I'm only bringing this up because I've seen comparisons between the two cases, and no they're not comparable at all.

The thing is, Nagi isn't the only person who didn't move on from his previous bad place in their relationship. Reo didn't either. And in a sense, both of their unhealthy habits ended up feeding into each other's, culminating in their separation. Nagi's emotional dependence on Reo further validated Reo's sense of ownership over their relationship and gave him the idea that yeah, he does know what's best for them, Nagi enabled him to keep believing that.

To go back to my original point, while both Nagi and Reo are a result of their upbringing, there's a difference in their individual cases that imply more of an actual flaw of character to me in Reo. Nagi has a childlike nature that is commented on repeatedly throughout the manga. If he ends up emotionally hurting someone, he does it in the same way a child would, thoughtlessly saying something without understanding its implications or what it would do to someone. Innocence is not always a virtue... but it's innocence, at the end of the day. Nagi never truly meant to hurt Reo, much less for him to fail at his dream, whereas Reo very much wanted for Nagi to fail or fall at one point. The difference is the awareness of their actions. Reo knew that he set out to use Nagi for his talent, he was aware of his actions to that extent. That is why him lashing out the way he did at Nagi making a choice for himself was so bad, because he knew deep down that he's the one who set that idea out for Nagi that football is the only part of him he cares about.

Ultimately, I think the whole blocking fiasco isn't just for Nagi to believe he's lost Reo entirely, but for Reo to do the same. Whether Reo is consciously making a hard decision based on the desire to have Nagi claim his own autonomy remains to be seen, but I'm honestly not feeling that optimistic about that explanation because even in that final conversation, Reo doesn't listen to Nagi telling him point blank that he does love football. It wasn't Reo who told him to keep playing the game he loves, it was Isagi. And I think this is something important that the story will circle back to later. Not by way of making Isagi more important than Reo to Nagi, but by having Reo confronted with some the less than savoury parts of his own character.

Which, honestly? Good for him. I think having Reo confront himself now would be novel in its own way because he's not in that kind of place where he'd just beat himself down further upon realising he's failed in some kind of way. The Reo now is far more receptive to the idea of change and self-improvement than he was back when he believed the only thing he was lacking in was football skills, not maturity and emotional intelligence.

[askcosplaysenpai]

Nice pic you got for your header image now spill the tea👀

Prepare yourself, this is a full cup.

All of this is relevant.

My earliest memory is from sometime in the late 80's, falling asleep on my dad's lap at my grandparents house while he watched Star Trek: The Next Generation. I used to run around with a headband over my eyes because I wanted to be Geordie LaForge. I have, quite literally, loved Star Trek for as long as I can remember.

My dad was a boy when the original series started airing. He is genuinely one of the most insightful people I've ever known. Put him in a room full of strangers, and watch the ripple of heads turning to listen to what he's saying. He can fix anything. He is honest and fair, but never cruel. He's comfortable being in charge because he believes in doing what's right and trusts his own decisions. And I wanted to be just like him.

My partner's dad was a teen during the TOS era. I don't know if I've ever met anyone more intelligent. Math, philosophy, art, you name it, he knows it all. He can critique with an acumen that cuts like a knife. He is fiercely loyal to those he loves, and cares not for the opinions of others. Fact, not emotion, is the way he approaches problem solving. And she wanted to be just like him.

Fast forward to last summer. It had been a while since I'd delved back into Star Trek, but I was feeling the itch and the things we love are better shared. She and I both have a great appreciation for stagecraft, and pre-digital midcentury acting is really only one step away from theatre. I found non-remastered versions on DVD, and we sat down to watch them.

I'd seen TOS before, but watching it anew with her was a completely different experience. We both fell in love, with the franchise and the characters specifically. We realized how much we related to Kirk and Spock. Soon after, we realized we'd been grandfathered their personalities from our fathers. We decided to take them to our annual trip to Yama-Con in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

I teach costume design at the Portland Fashion Institute. Accuracy is important to me when it comes to making a cosplay. I did my best to source original patterns and materials, and made what I couldn't find from scratch. My partner has a brilliant hand for makeup and hairstyling. She even cut my hair to match Kirk's.

I've been a guest panelist/cosplayer at Yama-Con every year since it started in 2013. My partner has joined me there as a guest in her own right since 2021. We coordinate our costumes to each other and to the panels we run.

The convention is usually the first week of December, so the con offers photos with Santa. Professional Santa and professional photographer. We have become friends with both the Santa and the photographer. At the convention, we schedule a (santa-less) photoshoot, then use those photos for our guest announcement for our next year of conventions.

The photographer and his partner have season passes to Dollywood, and we all went together after the con last year. He took photos when I proposed to her. A minute an a half later, he took photos when she proposed to me. Neither of us knew the other was proposing. I tell this side story to showcase how in sync we are, as no one who knows us was surprised by this.

So to answer your question: My header image is from our Kirk/Spock photoshoot from last year's Yama-Con, three days before we got engaged. I'm posting that image in full, as well as a few of my favorites from the shoot.

@tumbleofdorks is my partner<3 Here is the photographer