#let's discuss. ted talk

[gordonsicedcoffee]

CARY ELWES and KYLE MACLACHLAN SUNDANCE FILM FESTIVAL (2004) Park City, Utah

[lovely-cherubs]

Am I the only one who thinks that a good portion of the murder drones fandom lacks media literacy? Like some of these takes and opinions seriously make my head hurt. From people saying things like "N is obsessed with Uzi and vice versa" to "N had no character development" and even "Uzi ruined N's character", I'm seriously starting to believe that either people didn't actually watch the show or they watched something completely different.

[connecting-the-stars]

But In the End, We Stay the Same

Matt, Fisk, and Frank:

Spoilers for DDBA ep 4

Matt walking through an entirely different apartment. Fisk refusing to dawn his white suit. And Frank? Frank is setup in a filthy, half-haphazardly thrown together base of operations that is a striking mirror to the first base we see him in from Netflix Daredevil season 2.

Character introductions really set the tone for where their arcs may take them. Very interesting how they have painted each of these characters this season.

Of course, I am not blind to the criticism and where the cracks show from the creative overhaul, but I already viewed the show coming in as… well different. A “new era” both due to the gap in time since we’ve seen these wonderful characters, in real life and in universe, and due to Disney’s influence. I’m not one to focus a lot on time/age but the era when DD season one premiered was a year after Captain America: Winter soldier. This was years before Endgame and the Global Pandemic, the impact of such events are felt in the fictional universe and real world. I am a true believer in rewatch value from my multiple rewatches of Netflix’s Daredevil, but I also acknowledge that there will be elements lost, left in that era of film making and studio management. The colors and the certain level of grim are noticeably absent, when you see characters fall through several floors and they cough up dust/debris. The certain spark found in much of the dialogue of season 1 really is incredibly difficult to replicate.

Despite the places where “season 4” falls short, I can absolutely appreciate the dedication of the actors and actresses, returning and new. While I am comforted and reassured by Karen’s confirmed involvement in season 2, I appreciate Kristin’s and Cherry’s performances as they bar Matt into this new… stage of his life. Of being a full time lawyer and keeping his fists mostly unstained. Fisk’s new environment is half hilarious and half ominous as ever. Watching him stumble through politics and its niceties, and his uneasy speeches are relatively unexplored in Netflix’s series, forced into throne he has to keep his best face on for, rather than crushing skulls. Compared to his handful of appearances in the public being executed in precise manner that always had an end goal, for example, provoking Matt after the murder of Ms. Cardenas. Furthermore, with Vanessa’s distance and unfamiliar distrust. I am eagerly looking forward to Fisk’s manipulation in his mayorship as well as Vanessa’s standing in her business with her ever loving husband. The side characters playing off Fisk, have been given parts that challenge Fisk into different ways, which is much appreciated as he navigates being a truly public political figure.

Matt standing dead eyed in front of his window, right after the reshoot with Foggy’s death. Man, knew something was different. Like are you not crashing out and living out of a basement rn because….? I know that he only received medical attention after the finale of Defenders because he was in a Coma, how is the King of Guilt, Self Destructive Murdock not crawling out of dumpsters again? (Crit: where is queen of sass Sister Maggie?)

But it is fascinating watching this Matt Murdock listen to a nice record player and cook his own meals and walk like he isn’t living in the Bad Ending timeline. The quiet despair washing over him every time he reaches for Foggy’s prayer card. My dread as I realize he takes a piece of Foggy with him everywhere. The idea that Matt has lost faith in Daredevil, this utter stab to the heart proof that he Failed as daredevil, that he was not enough to save his best friend. Every which way you look at Matt and Foggy’s relationship, they are each other’s person. College, first internship, first official business. Matt of course sees this as his fault, that guilt clinging to him like a bad cold. Eats him (in the words of Castle), tears him up to the point he refuses to allow himself to enter a church. The sermon mention a person’s worthiness. Point blank. The fact that he no longer lives in Hell’s Kitchen is major flag of Distress (avoiding Sister Maggie who could talk at least some sense, some kindness to him, the absence of the church he visited so often in the Netflix show). Thus, refusing consolation of faith, of worthiness to be daredevil, Matt clutches twice as hard as ever to the Judicial system. To the part of his life and faith he shared with Foggy, where they promised each other they would do good. The abrupt introduction of Cherry and Kristin apparently filling said places of Karen and Foggy by Matt’s side is jarring as much as it is telling. While Kristin is a comic book character brought into this series, the knowledge of her and connection built with her so far is minimal, when set besides how much of Karen’s development we saw in season 1 of Netflix series. Similar to Cherry’s role being a mix of Ben Uriah and “Foggy” in essence. (I say very lightly. No one will compare to our Foggy.) Cherry’s reminders to Matt of the reality of the system and praising his efforts of being a Good Lawyer, mirroring in a way to Foggy’s constant mission to ground Matt when his head is in his ass. Heather also being pulled from the comics is quite interesting as I had no thoughts of who would be Matt’s love interest, though her being wedged between Vanessa, Fisk, and possibly Muse is not a good sign for her. New apartment, new firm, new co-workers but he cannot outrun grief. It will catch him.

(I know the lack of Karen is mostly due to the overhaul, but the fact that he does not have her to rely on currently also pushes this unresolved/unaddressed grief. The one person who also endured losing Foggy)

The time-skip is certianly something I’m intrigued by. Where it plays in the current story, and the pieces of Matt and Karen’s grief that are unexplored. Wonder if it had been inserted due to the creative overhaul?

Fisk and Matt’s parallel stories this session have been done quite well. While there was a particular balance the Netflix series formed for telling both their stories, I find giving more time to Fisk’s arc strengthens how well these characters are as narrative foils of each other. Fisk arriving this season through a slow flip of the camera, setting the city on its head and picking through a meager breakfast and his tense reunion with Vanessa, while Matt ghosts around his apartment before reaching for Foggy’s prayer card to leave. Both characters are damaged, pieces of themselves lost. While I have not watched Echo, the psychological damage done to Fisk appears to have followed him into Born Again. His confidence seemed to be shaken and his lack of support from Vanessa further pushes him towards stress. Matt facing Bullseye without Karen beforehand, the brief strained conversation with Karen afterwards. While Kristin does tell the audience that Matt needs someone in his life, that he needs a win, it is clearly seen how destitute he is when Fisk announces his mayoral campaign and he sits idle as his food burns behind him. Both Fisk and Matt turning to different ways to get by, to proceed to their goals, by refusing their “darker halves.”

This refusal to indulge in a part of who they are will double the pressure, suffocating until they can no longer stand it. Matt faced with the consequences of revealing Hector’s vigilante identity and the injustice of his murder, of being forced to face the grief and righteous anger of his niece. “No one will do anything about it!” As well as his extremely emotionally intense encounter with Frank. Fisk squaring away first steps of many in political action and faced against the failure of Daniel, then pecking through yet another modest meal. That is until episode 4’s reveal. Indulging in that carb heavy and seasoning rich meal for a king, paired swimmingly with a tortured soul’s pleas. That power, that desire for absolute authority, never truly left Fisk. Most likely never will. Then Matt scaling the roof’s ladder to his pristine collection of cowls, hand already reaching for his billy club. Their darker halves never left them, refused and placated for a time, but never not in the corner waiting for them.

Frank. Haha. Frank is great, let him take a few verbal swings at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and he can work out more than his therapist girlfriend. Matt really is not coping, not processing. Cannot tell most people in his life everything, why he feels so responsible for the death of Foggy, for failing him. Best keep his name out of his mouth, because it’s not about him, right? Frank sitting in this grief of losing people who meant Everything to him, and recognizing that pain and stifled rage in Matt. When he retaliates, apologies and curses falling immediately afterwards, Frank does not accept it. Knows that his Darker Half is apart of him, is apart of his grief and pain. Being Daredevil, that righteousness and ruthlessness fueled him. Losing his dad to the criminal underground that got away unscathed, that injustice and lack of closure. Acting as that immovable object to villains unstoppable force. If it’s him or these innocent people behind him? Matt’s stepping to the plate everytime. Even when he attempted, he prioritized saving the victims. Frank is taking out people he deems worthy of the death penalty, Frank is “by any means necessary.” Frank’s grief, the Punisher is a part of him, of course he is going to see Matt’s grief as part of Daredevil. “You lose him. Didn’t you red? You hear him don’t you?”

Frank started out as a corpse on mission for vengeance. He got the people who took his family. He spends his efforts to end the threats permanently. Startling similar to how we first met him.

Matt and Fisk have denied themselves from fully indulging, allowing themselves to lean into their Darker Halves. However, after the events of episode 4, that is clearly going to change. I hope it does in the most explosive way possible.

All of this started from listening to Mother Mother’s - Try to Change

[beatcroc]

Can you elaborate further on ena selfcest hatesex please

teehee.

honestly the plan was to just drop it once i got to it and provide 0 explanation but i should know by now im bad at being sneaky and keeping my mouth shut so this post is now about how we got here and what im trying to accomplish.

so first off i feel it is necessary context to say i have developed something of a conceptual fascination with ena nsfw. not an actual interest; i have no desire to actually see or search any out, but...the idea of it. like. i know there is A Metric Shitton of it out there, so what's going on with all that? what are the appeals? how are people taking this, by all measures rather mystifying sort of being, and making it something they can fuck? are people trying to downplay it, or are they having fun exploring the bizzare nature of ena both as a character and series in this context? these are not questions i especially care about the answers to, but they are fun to ponder and discuss as theoreticals. i have been doing a lot of this also in addition to the regular game analysis, so i suppose i was bound to get the wires crossed eventually.

that being said @ real analysis it's honestly kind of hard to explain if you have not played dream bbq, and really even if you haven't been in on ena since earlier on? but most of it is just that coming out of the webseries, the dynamic for how the salesperson/meanie sides on dbbq ena work feels very drastically different than how the happy/sad sides did on og ena. the split for og ena was pretty straightforward in that they were just two emotions she just tended to wildly oscillate between on the regular, but game ena..... she simultaneously is much more put together and yet feels far more in contention with herself and how she presents. despite being the more mellow side of her presentation, salesperson is an extremely dominant personality; whereas happy/sad feel very balanced in their oscillations, meanie ena feels like she only ever comes out to get some words in edgewise in decisive moments when it Means Something.

it's probably not a stretch to say ena sides are meant to be 'opposites' in some way [as opposed to just any pair of personalities]. happy/sad again are straightforward and manifest more just as conflicting reactions/perspectives, but despite her capriciousness, og ena still always feels Genuine in her displays. salesperson/meanie are unified both in goal and in the path to it, but the opposites aspect comes up in her approach. the best way i can define them is in terms of "how altruistic is she willing to pretend to be today?", to which the ends are "all bullshit" and "no bullshit". salesperson just feels disingenuous when put against anything meanie says, and ena is in fact most consistently called "dishonest" or "a cheater" when being insulted by other characters. all of this to say: when meanie is out it is very clearly her Actual Real Feelings on a situation, but again, it is so rare for meanie to be out under normal circumstances. there is literally only one character she does not approach as salesperson, and i Have to infer it's because he's the only one who is immediately aggressive towards her. og ena is certainly more unstable, but despite one of those primary emotions being labelled as "sad", game ena still feels far more unhappy.

there also appears to be some weirdness between them when it comes to addressing her past and how much she does or does not regret doing whatever the hell she did but i think im staring to get off-topic. you get the point im making by now. there is tangible friction between salsperson and meanie. is she deliberately suppressing meanie? is salesperson deliberately suppressing meanie? it is all very strange and alarming and it almost makes me want to question how the sides of an ena even work.

but anyway to bring it all around: no there is not actually any "real" "logical" "narrative" place for horny business with ena stuff, i'm just fucking around. but approaching it from the angle of "what would be the most character-intensive way to do nsfw here?", i think it would be simply be making her confront herself; exploring the dynamic and the tension between her sides and how she uses them. i went on a lot about unspoken contention between her sides, but there's also a bit of it that is, for spoilers' sake, let's just say Very Bluntly Spelled Out. ergo: hatesex. and then also of course whole fuckin point of the design and character of ena is its two guys who are one guy... or two halves of a whole, more accurately. the halves are also pretty substantial on their own, so this makes it very natural to just make them two separate guys while still technically being the same guy. ergo: selfcest.

also i get to make this stupid joke

so there u go

[hairupintheair]

I know in reality their unique designs were probably to make the main cast stand out from the background Trolls, but you can't convince me the Snack Pack exists for any reason other than Poppy seeing these Trolls that look a bit different from everyone else in the village and immediately saying to herself, "Better make them all my best friends so they never get left out of anything ever!" (This includes Branch of course.)

[ysp4r4lys1s]

hi guys ! Toby's fictive is talking and i rlly want to talk about some shit about me;my source;etc from creepypasta abd how fandom change me. [🪓]

ofc i am different from my source (i have another age, i haven't got tourettes but instead i have just... nervous ticks and only when i am in stressful situations. i also haven't got schizophrenia and instead it i have schizotypal personality disorder) BUT i REALLY hated how fandom sees me sometimes. it makes me feel uncomf sometimes and i feel disgusting.

lets talk about some points:

1. i am NOT a murderer

i have feelings and i hated this murder things bc its not my choice in source to kill someone. i feel guilty about it SO . MUCH .

thing from my source that i want to show to EVERY human in fandom

2. i rlly love my friends. my mom. my sib. thats all.

3. im still traumatized teen-boy that is paranoid about every sound and every step. and action.

like you see ?? its a problem for me to communicate WITH EVERYONE include my close friends and partner-s

STD also influences on it and im so suffer from this shit

4. im not a kind of hyperactive stupid boy that gets on everyone's nerves and pissed them off

yk yes i can have some fun with my close friends and can spam with messages but it happens really rarely.

UN OK I ALSO LIKE WAFFLES BUT THIS FANDOM'S THING ABOUT IT RLLY STRANGE i dont get it

idk for what am i writing it i just wanted to talk a little bit about all this things and i hope i could discuss this in replies or in question-box

(i dont like clockwork hello bye)

[crowned-clown-rising]

I can't not think about Dean.

[therestofmyfandoms]

remembering that time i was gushing about various characters to my then-bf, saying "i love them" and "theyre my favorite" and my ex responded with "you say that about every character." yeah and??? so what?? is it a crime to love multiple characters for different reasons??? or maybe even for the same reason??

same convo, he said to me "your favorite character is never the main character" and i replied with something like "well yeah, usually they tend to be a little more boring" and he said "i think you think youre above it" which?? my dude wtf. he said it SO condescendingly too. like the implication being "you think youre too special to like the main character". biting you biting you biting you wtf.

anyway fuck that guy. enjoy your favorite blorbos. be they main characters, minor side characters, someone mentioned off-hand once in a spin-off, who cares. maybe every character is your favorite who gives a shit. i think it means you just have great taste

[callixton]

fuck it i’m rereading the bakkhai and going to bed

[toothlickpick]

the conclave book constantly emphasizes how being a pope is basically a lonely death sentence. cardinals close to being elected pope are isolated out of respect and awe, popes can't go out to eat at their favorite restaurants or go on strolls, they're constantly targeted as the head of the church etc..

the book frames benitez as, literally and symbolically, a 60ish year old boy who has no idea what hes getting into. he stumbles to think of a name when he gets elected pope, begs lomelli to stay with him to guide him, and even the smallest papal clothes literally do not fit him because he's so tiny. he's framed with a childlike awe and openness needed to lead the church through dark and cynical times

i think another genius moment for the movie is that it frames benitez in almost the opposite direction. movie benitez is quiet and contemplative. he likes lomelli, but in the same way an angel would favor a prophet. he's the only one to care about His Holiness' turtles and see their virtue despite their apparent stupidity, which is obviously a reflection of how His Holiness saw the cardinals and the rest of the Kingdom of God. From the very beginning, he is isolated from the other cardinals, never really shown to discuss things with anyone other than lawrence. In the end when he scolds tedesco, you dont get the impression of a wise childlike figure speaking up against a bully, you get the impression of moses telling ramses to let his people go.

and in the end when movie benitez is elected pope, he pauses. he refuses to get dressed until lawrence sees him about the one issue he knows will be a problem. he comes into the papacy knowing he will make a great sacrifice, and he treats it that way.

tldr book benitez is a 60ish year old boy wearing papal clothes too big for him to fully handle, movie benitez is a man walking up cavalry hill, both are my babies, thank you for coming to my ted talk

[astrolook]

Mercury in the houses

(Where does your brain do the most damage? Let’s find out! 😆)

Mercury in the 1st House: "I Talk, Therefore I Am." 📝

Speaks like they’re in a debate competition—even when ordering coffee. ☕

When it comes to job/career, can succeed in anything requiring fast thinking, persuasion, or scamming people legally. (Lawyer, salesperson, journalist.)

Will text you a 3-paragraph explanation for why they took 5 minutes to reply. 📱

Probably debated with your siblings (if you have any) so much as a child they now have trust issues.

Flirts like it's a TED Talk—informative, persuasive, and slightly exhausting.

Looks like their pen was possessed by a demon mid-word. 👻

Your brain runs at 5G speed, but their mouth runs at 6G.

Mercury in the 2nd House: "Money Talks… and So Do I!"💰

Talks slow and calculated—like they’re charging per word.

For job/career, you are perfect for finance, business, or making passive-aggressive Etsy shops.

"Who owes me $15 from 2020? I remember."

Your Handwriting: Fancy-looking cursive that belongs on an expensive check. ✍️

If has family, you might have an Excel sheet of who spent what on Christmas gifts. 🎁

Watches finance YouTubers like they’re movies.

Mercury in the 3rd House: "I Have 1000 Thoughts Per Minute."

Can out-talk an auctioneer. Never. Shuts. Up. Talks so fast, even their Wi-Fi can’t keep up.

For job/career, you could do well as journalist, social media manager, or that one coworker who emails at 3 AM.

Chaotic bisexual, pansexual, or flirts for sport. 🏆

Handwriting: Could be unreadable. Like a doctor’s prescription.

Probably has 50 tabs opened at once.

ADHD? I've seen this placement with people who has mercury in 3rd house.

Mercury in the 4th House: "Let’s Overthink Our Childhood."📝

When they talk it sounds like a therapist even when giving food orders.

For job/career, anything home-based (Freelancer, therapist, professional nostalgic, home maker).

Writes long emotional texts and then deletes them.

They're the one that tells their sibling, "Mom always liked me better" or "You're adopted".

Handwriting: Cutesy and emotional—like a grandma’s love letter.

On their social media accounts, they posts sentimental throwbacks way too much.

Biggest Flaw: Lives in the past.

Mercury in the 5th House: "Flirting is My Second Language."📝

Flirty, dramatic, and annoyingly charming.

For job/career, anything creative—actor, writer, public speaker, meme creator.

Flirts with everyone, dates no one. Flirting in the comments section.

Was the funny but annoying child.

Can’t take anything seriously.

Mercury in the 6th House: "I think in bullet points."

If anyone asks them a question, it would sound like a Google search result.

For job/career, perfectionist boss (or their employee’s worst nightmare).

Too busy analyzing red flags to enjoy romance.

Handwriting: Neat, small, and borderline obsessive.

Leaves detailed Yelp reviews.

Mercury in the 7th House: "Let’s Discuss This… Again."📝

Speaks in "we" instead of "I" (even when they’re single).

For job/career, they are good at lawyer, diplomat, or customer service expert.

Always "the mediator" in sibling fights.

Plays marriage counselor to their parents.

Can’t be alone, but overthinks commitment.

Mercury in the 8th House: "Secrets? I Know Them All."📝

The way they talk: Low voice, deep words, big secrets.

For job/career, they're good at investigator, psychologist, hacker, or a blackmail expert.

In love, communicates in mystery and sexual tension.

Handwriting: Looks like a serial killer’s notes.

Leaves cryptic tweets.

Won’t admit their sexuality… but they are. Sometimes they could be straight, but a sibling could be gay.

Mercury in the 9th House: "I will talk your ear off about philosophy and conspiracy theories" 📝

Flirts by explaining history.

In love, turns deep convos into foreplay.

Probably thinks they’re smarter than their parents.

Posts long Reddit rants.

Handwriting: Could be messy, but big and confident.

For job/career, could excel at teacher, philosopher, or annoying podcast host.

Mercury in the 10th House: "I’m CEO of Overthinking My Career."📝

Talks like a LinkedIn post and takes life too seriously.

For job/career, could be a CEO, politician, or a corporate robot, lol.

Will literally schedule date nights.

Takes love as seriously as a business contract.

Will only befriend "useful people."

Mostly posts work-related updates.

Mercury in the 11th House: "I'm the human embodiment of a Reddit thread"📝

Speaks like they’re in a sci-fi movie.

Tech startup, social activist, or online troll.

In love, probably falls for their best friend.

Might like the idea of "open-minded" relationships.

The "black sheep" of the family.

Handwriting: Either it looks like it belongs on a protest sign or kinda bad.

Mercury in the 12th House: "Did I Say That Out Loud?"

Mumbles, forgets what they were saying.

Job/Career: Psychic, therapist, or mysterious writer. If writes, these people would write under a pen name.

Either super close to their siblings or never speaks to them.

Very much into horror, psychological thriller movies.

Handwriting: Looks like a haunted diary.

Terrible at explaining emotions but fantastic at writing it.

Mercury is where your brain lives, where your mouth runs, and where your Wi-Fi connection to reality glitches. 😆🌍✨

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

[strawberrysznn]

Beauty AND brains. Your knowledge is your weapon.

Let's not only be insanely beautiful but also disgustingly educated. Other than discipline and hard work, your knowledge is your weapon in this world of chaos, something that you can sharpen and use.

Where can you expand your knowledge? What areas, what topics

How can you expand your knowledge? In different circumstances and preferences such as if you're too busy or if you have a short attention span

Where can you expand your knowledge?

I DO NOT mean that you need to be an expert at everything. You don't need multiple degrees for each type of intelligence. However, if you want to sharpen your weapon, sharpen your knowledge.

These are the areas where you CAN sharpen your knowledge AND the areas where you SHOULD know the basics in:

Emotional, Communication, Morals, Ethics. Be human, and make others feel human too. Cultivate empathy, understand mental health, build your conscience, and differentiate right from wrong. Communicate frequently and effectively.

History, Culture, Politics. The world is chaotic — learn to stand your ground. Understand history, politics, corruption, culture, and the overlooked heroes. Know what shaped the past to navigate the future.

Digital Literacy. The internet is a double-edged sword. Learn to navigate it safely, protect your privacy, spot misinformation, and adapt to evolving technology.

Manners, Etiquette, Body Language. The way you present yourself matters. Respect others, read unspoken cues, and master the art of presence.

Self-Sufficiency, Life Skills, Livelihood. You won’t always have someone to rely on. Cook, clean, manage time, handle money, and adapt to life’s challenges. Be independent.

Literature, Language, Writing. Words are power. Read, write, and communicate with depth. Language shapes history, culture, and thought—use it wisely.

Critical Thinking, Problem-Solving. The world isn’t black and white. Question everything, analyze critically, recognize manipulation, and think for yourself. Don't be swayed easily by others.

Science and Math. The foundation of everything. At least know the basics, enough to understand the forces shaping the world — logic, numbers, and the universe itself.

Self-Care, Hygiene, Fitness, Health. Your body and mind are your greatest assets. Eat well, stay active, manage stress, and prioritize your well-being before it’s too late.

How can you expand your knowledge?

When you have free time When you're busy When you prefer learning visually When you have little to no attention span

You are what you consume. Now that you know what topics you can expand your knowledge on, these are what you can use / do to consume those information:

Have some free time? Do / use these

Read books, take online courses, or watch in-depth documentaries. (Example: history books, finance courses, science explainers) Engage in discussions or debates to refine your thinking. (Example: politics, ethics, critical thinking) Try hands-on learning like experiments, DIY projects, or journaling. (Example: cooking, coding, writing) Attend workshops, seminars, or community events.

Too busy? Do / use these

Listen to podcasts or audiobooks while traveling, doing tasks / work / school work, or doing chores. (Example: podcasts on Spotify / Tiktok, Youtube videos where the creator is more on speaking, audiobooks on Audible or by downloading a free e-pub format e-book online then uploading it into Google Playbooks and using the audiobook / text-to-speech format) Follow bite-sized content on social media. (Example: short educational / history Tiktok videos, digital literacy infographics, photos on Pinterest) Take advantage of apps and tools for productivity, learning, etc. (Example: budgeting apps, language-learning apps) Watch short, informative videos during breaks. (Example: TED-Ed, Ted Talks, short Tiktok videos)

Like to learn visually / by watching? Do / use these

Watch video explainers, documentaries, or animated infographics. Use apps that gamify learning. (Example: Duolingo for language, Codecademy for coding) Follow visually engaging content creators. (Example: finance charts, body language breakdowns) Make mind maps or illustrated notes to break down complex topics. (Example: self-care routines, political structures, problem-solving techniques)

Little to no attention span? Do / use these

Learn through short-form content like TikToks, reels, or infographics. Play interactive or gamified learning apps. (Example: strategy games, trivia quizzes) Follow meme-based or storytelling-style education accounts. Try hands-on, fast-paced activities. (Example: debate flash rounds, real-world problem-solving challenges, DIY experiments)

Begin small, learn the basics, take a step at a time, and start from there. Be BOTH beauty and brains. You have a weapon (your knowledge), sharpen it and use it.

[princess35azzi]

The Hard Launch of "My Current Girlfriend"

Hi All- this is my first fic ever so please be kind and patient! I did not even edit it so all mistakes are mine and I am so sorry.

I kept seeing those "My current boyfriend/husband" videos on tiktok and kept thinking about how fun it would be for Azzi to play that prank on Paige.

Hope you enjoy it!

------

For years, fans and the world around them have speculated about their relationship. Heated debates under their Tiktoks, their friends' lives, their instagram dumps. Always keeping track of every little move.

Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers were suspiciously close—closer than most best friends, some insisted. Even now, with hundreds of miles between them every day off you could count on Paige being wherever Azzi's world tour had taken her. And you could always count on running into Azzi in Dallas on her days off.

Then there were their social media soft launches. Something they joked about constantly. Paige always around the edges of Azzi's posts. Sometimes Paige caught checking Azzi out in a mirror selfie, sometimes Paige asleep on Azzi's shoulder on a plane, sometimes Azzi wearing Paige's hoodie in Paige's bathroom.

Azzi's dumps were always a little chaotic. Always sending fans into spirals.

One photo would be her post-game stat. The next? Paige's softly smiling at her across a table lit by a candlelight. Another? A group dinner with Paige's hand in Azzi's lap, barely visible, their pinkies linked under the table.

"IS THE PRIVATE IN THE ROOM WITH US?"

"Yooo how many more soft launches until we get that hard launch?!?"

"IS THAT PAIGE'S HAND ON HER THIGH?????? OMGGG the pinkies plsssss 🥹"

"WE GET IT BUT CAN PAIGE FIGHT?????"

Paige loved it. She knew Azzi was very private about her life. For her social media had become an extension of her professional life. Paige loved to see her have a little fun with their relationship. It also make her giddy to think Azzi could not help but share how happy she was in their relationship.

"baby, lowkey," Paige had said one night while Azzi's head lay in her chest and she played with her curls. "You're the worst at the game of private."

Azzi grinned, eyes shinning and dimples showing. "I don't say anything. I just let the pictures speak."

Still, never a confirmation. No public hand-holding, no public kissing, no captions that said more than "💗", "my shooter", "😍".

But there were many signs.

A favorite was the latest addition to Azzi's favorite heart shaped necklace— a delicate pendant of the number 5. Paige had gifted it to her the night she formally asked her to sit on her table at her WNBA Draft Night. They both knew Azzi would be there, but the asking out loud was a quiet confirmation that they were both ready to take the next step. They knew people would speculate and write discussions posts about what it all meant. But for Paige and Azzi it was just another moment of them showing up for one another and living their love in the safety or their bubble. Always private, but never secret.

And now here they were with Paige visiting Storrs for a weekend. They were getting ready to go out to Ted's with the team. Paige was sitting on Azzi's bed waiting for her to finish getting ready.

Azzi angled her phone for a TikTok. She wore a black crop top and black cargos, her hair up in a bun with a couple of curls framing her face, gold hoops on her ears. Paige, in the background, was lazily adjusting her vintage hoodie, halfway paying attention.

Azzi pressed play and started filming.

"Hi everyone," she said casually, dimples pointing at the camera. "Today my current girlfriend and I are going to do a little fit check."

Azzi's eyes carefully watched for her girlfriend's reaction in the back.

There was a beat of silence. She could see the wheels turning in Paige's head. In the reflection of the mirror, she could see Paige frozen.

Azzi smiled and kept talking like nothing happened. "She is wearing a thrifted hoodie I found, my old UConn tee, and jeans."

Paige slowly turned, her face caught between shock, pure offense, and existential crisis.

"uh-huh not allat...repeat that please? whatchu mean your 'current girlfriend'" Paige said giving her the air quotes with her fingers and a bewildered look. Before Azzi could answer Paige continued, "Current girlfriend???? I am sorry, did we break up and I didn't get the memo??"

Azzi could not help but giggle. Turning to her, dimples in full force like she hadn't just casually dropped a bomb.

"Oh, but you are my girlfriend right now? Baby, that makes you my current girlfriend" she said, feigning innocence.

"Yes, I caught that," Paige said, stepping closer and holding her by her hips and she rested her head on the crook of her neck. Eyebrows furrowed and pout in full display. "You just hard-launch our relationship on Tiktok and implied you have a full roster."

Azzi laughed, tucking a loose curl behind her ear and turning to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Relax. You are my only girlfriend. Current is just a true statement and it sounds cute and lowkey...unbothered you might say."

Paige, did not smile. She narrowed her eyes and stared at her in the reflection of the mirror. "It sounds like you've got a backup."

"No. no, baby. You are everything. My starter and my bench." Azzi teased. "You are the roster. All-star. MVP."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "You are lucky I am madly in love with you."

"I know," Azzi said sweetly. "What are you going to do about it? Kiss me on camera to confirm you are the one woman roster in my lif-?"

Before she could get the word out Paige's lips where on her only interrupted by the soft laugh coming out of Azzi's mouth.

The next morning Azzi is laying on Paige's chest enjoy the warmth of her body while Paige plays with her fingers. Paige raises her hand and kisses her ring finger with a lazy smile spreading a cross her face followed by, "I can't wait to be your current wife."

It is in that moment that Azzi decides that video is not staying in her drafts.

The comments start to come immediately:

"EVERYONE WILL REMEMBER WHERE THEY WERE DURING THE PAZZI HARDLAUNCH"

"WAIT. WHAT.WAIT. DID AZZI JUST CALL HER HER GRIELFRIEND?

"not us finally getting a hardlaunch after years of waiting and it was a drive-by"

"PAIGE'S FACE OMG AZZI FIX IT KISS HER RIGHT NOW. I COULD FEEL THE HEART BREAK!"

"Paige is never recovering from being called 'current'"

"AZZI BETTER ADD HER TO YOUR DUMP WITH A "FOREVER" IN THE CAPTION OR WE RIOT"

They read and laugh about them all morning. Azzi liking a couple of them. Until she sees the one Paige left on her post:

"pov: you didnt know if you were being hard-launched or soft-dumped 🥺"

Azzi does fix it that night by posting another dump.

(Slide 1) A mirror selfie in her apartment. Azzin in her sweats, Paige behind her in a hoodie, one arm slung casually around Azzi's waist. The pendant with the number 5 visible. Eyes on each other.

(Slide 2)

A shot of their iced coffee cups on a cafe table. Azzi's name spelled right, Paige's cup says "Azzis Forever Girl" (in Azzi's handwriting.)

(Slide 3)

A close-up of the pendant necklace on Azzi's collarbone, the "5" in the corner of her collarbone with Paige's finger resting lightly right under it in the shot.

(Slide 4)

A grainy polaroid held up by Azzi's finger next to Paige's soft smile of Paige asleep on her shoulder during a movie night.

(Slide 5)

A picture of Paige and her family at the dinner table. Paige hold Azzi's pinky on top of the table.

(Slide 6)

A picture of Paige's soft smile as she stands at the baggage claim area with a bouquet of flowers in hand and strawberry and nutella snack on the other.

(Slide 7)

A picture of Azzi sleeping on Paige's lap with Paige hand caressing her cheek.

(Slide 8)

A picture of two paper rings. And Paige's soft look and timid smile blurred behind them.

(Slide 9)

A picture of Paige's latest visit to Storrs. A group photo of the team around Paige. Azzi sitting on her lap with her arms around her neck. Cheeks pressed together and Paige's arms lazily around her lower hips.

(Slide 10)

Paige asleep in her bed wearing her old hoodie sleepily reaching for her hand.

The caption is simple: "ft. forever 💗 "

the top comments make her grin.

"Ft. forever" is INSANE WORK AZZI."

"Paige currently fighting for her life trying to stay nonchalant final boss"

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post a about Kevin Barnes from Poppy Playtime.

I genuinely feel so bad for Kevin…

Like that was a kid who clearly had a lot of issues from the start, instead of getting the help he needed all that happened was him being marked off as a „problem child“.

And then he was turned into a toy:/

Read more of my full thoughts and a sorta character analysis/ramblings below cut!

Like honestly no wonder he is seething if he wasn’t troubled before he definitely is now-

Obviously he has no trust in anyone, almost every adult he ever knew screwed him over in some way, hell even the kids he shares a body with would go against what he would do.

(Great example: When Doey chases us in his monster form, it's the arms of Matthew and Jack that are trying to keep his mouth from biting us, Kevin's are trying to grab for us.)

He was hurt over and over again, clearly he wasn’t aggressive just because he wanted to be but because this was his only way of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

It was how he had a semblance of control, a sense of protection.

But of course the irony is: That coping mechanism brought him more pain, it was what got him killed.

Sure, maybe he could've just "calmed down", but why would he? He was hurt again, he lost everything AGAIN.

All because he listened to their judgement over his own. Kevin could've killed the player and Poppy on sight, clearly his emotions easily overpowered the other two, but he didn't.

Instead he agreed to trust them as well.

He was still willing to do that, surely if he were just a mindless monster he wouldn't be.

And you know what? I believe he blames himself just as much if not more for what happened than he blames us and Poppy and projects it tenfold.

Because maybe, JUST MAYBE-

If he didn't allow himself to trust again, then everyone would still be alive.

But he did...now see what that got him?

In his mind he's proven right.

So what's an emotionally unstable child to do? After being hurt AGAIN?

That's right.

He lashes out at the first thing he sees that had something to do with his pain:

Us.

Is he in the right? Hell nah- bro we didn't mean for that to happen! But do you seriously think this kid is thinking rationally right now??? NO! He is seeing red right now, he is in fight mode! All emotions and must I reiterate that the only way he knows how to express them is through anger and violence?

There is NO reasoning with wrath try as you might! And that hurts because yeah maybe you could've dealt with that if he was still a gradeschooler but he isn't! He is 900 pounds of living dough with a thirst for blood!

It's either our life or his now. And we already know what the outcome of that is.

Honestly I think it's better that we only hear Matthew and Jack apologise for what happened, I do not think Kevin would even if he did feel bad for what he had done.

Because why would someone who has been scorned so many times be vulnerable all of the sudden? When his main character trait is biting at those who bark at him?Why would all that rage suddenly disappear? If anything the stress of dying only causes him to lash out more.

You don't need an apology from him to feel bad for him.

He is hurting anyone with two eyes can see that and for what it's worth, I do believe deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was too late for him to see any other alternatives and even if he didn't and thought he was right for doing what he did it doesn't take away from the fact that he was fucked over by life.

Kevin is not the worst part of Doey, he is just a part of him.

And that part is not just a violent hunk of playdough.

It’s a scared, confused little boy that cared just as much about every toy in safe haven as his other two components did.

Because if he didn’t why would he get so angry about their death?

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk-

Also feel free to agree or disagree with my take, those are just my thoughts so let me hear yours, I like discussions:}

For those interested here are some Jack thoughts and Matthew!:D

And the big blue lump Doey

[crazziforazzi]

Fighting for the love (of the game) - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The trade

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Trope: Second chance

A/N: Thank you for all the support with the first chapter. While proofreading this one I realized it wasn’t ripping my heart out the way it should, so I quickly took care of that. Enjoy, and see you next weekend! ;)

Word Count: 6.9k words

Masterlist

Paige POV:

Since draft night, everything had moved at a crazy speed.

After the call with her manager about the Sparks, he did what she paid him for, he got to work. That night had barely ended before the next morning kicked off a chain reaction that would change the course of her life.

By the time she blinked awake the next morning, barely untangled from a restless sleep, there was already a new calendar invite in her inbox:

Trade Discussion – 9:00 AM CST.

Attendees:

Ted Young, agent at Wasserman

Lindsey Kollard-Coy, agent at Wasserman

Curt Miller, Executive VP at Dallas Wings

Chris Koclanes, Head Coach at Dallas Wings

She stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen. Her coffee sat untouched.

This was real. They were actually talking about it.

The meeting was short, tense in places, polite in others, the kind of conversation where everyone pretended there were no hard feelings while every sentence landed like a game of emotional chess.

Curt was calm but hesitant. He leaned into the numbers, the possibilities in Dallas, the potential of keeping Paige as a cornerstone of the team. He spoke about growth, about future assets, about the cost of letting a number one pick go after only one season. You could tell this wasn’t the move he wanted to make.

Paige respected him for that, at least. He’d never lied to her about what they were hoping to build in Dallas. But that didn’t mean they saw the future the same way.

Chris, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked more detached if he tried. Paige watched him lean back in his chair. He didn't say much. When he did speak, it was vague. Like a man who had already moved on in his mind. No fight, no challenge. No protest. It didn’t surprise her, not after the way he had coached her last season.

And that was what stung the most.

She wanted to belong somewhere. Wanted a team to feel like a team, not just a stopgap. And in that moment, it became clearer than ever: this wasn’t it. Dallas had never felt like home. Not really. Not like it was supposed to.

Still, Paige stayed respectful. She was polite, like she always was. She thanked them for taking a chance on her, thanked Curt for being transparent from day one. But she didn’t sugarcoat the truth either.

"I appreciate everything this organization has given me," she said, meaning it. "But it just seems like... maybe this isn’t the right fit. Dallas is building toward something specific, and I’m not sure I fit into that system the way either of us hoped. That’s not a criticism, it’s just a mismatch. I’m not going to grow the way I need to if I’m constantly adjusting to a style that doesn’t let me be who I am."

Curt sighed. It wasn’t angry. Just tired. Thoughtful. Chris just checked his watch.

"We’ll talk to LA." he said finally.

That was it. Paige signed off the call with a quiet goodbye, closed her laptop, and let her head fall into her hands. Her heart was pounding. Not because she was nervous, but because she finally felt something again. Clarity, maybe. Fire. Definitely purpose.

She wasn’t running from a team. She was running toward something now.

And with that, things were set into motion. By that evening, her agent called with the offer.

"The Sparks wants you,” he said, voice tight with excitement. "And they are not messing around. They are offering a crazy package tonight. You will have a Zoom with their president and coaching staff tomorrow morning.”

Paige barely registered the rest of the details. Her head was already buzzing.

LA. The Sparks. Her. Azzi.

The Zoom was set for 10:00 a.m. CST the next morning, but Paige had been up since six. She couldn’t sit still. She had already gone for a run, showered, changed clothes twice. By the time the call started, she was borderline vibrating. 

Her laptop screen came alive with the faces of Christine Monjer, Sparks President, and Lynne Roberts, their head coach, a woman Paige had watched coach Utah to hell and back over the past few seasons. They both looked serious, curious, but calm.

Christine started things off, and Paige liked her immediately. Confident, no-nonsense, clearly someone who knew how to run a franchise.

"Paige,” she said with a calm smile after a few minutes of casual small talk. "Let’s get one thing clear right now. We are not in this meeting because of hype. We are not here for jersey sales or clicks. We are here because of how you play. Because of what we have seen in you since you were fifteen. And because we believe, truly, that there is more in you than what Dallas gave you the space to show.”

She was so direct that Paige almost didn’t know how to respond. Her throat felt tight for a second. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, not by an executive, not by someone who wasn’t trying to control her narrative but actually believed in her game.

Coach Roberts cut in next and while her voice was warm, her eyes were sharp. Paige respected her the moment she leaned forward.

 "But we are not in the business of quick fixes. This team is in a rebuilding phase. It won't always be easy. It won’t be perfect. There will be months where it’s hard to show up. There will be days where we lose more than we win. So the question is… are you really ready for that?”

"We are not asking you to come in and be a saviour,” Christine added. "We are asking you to commit. To build. To stay. Even when the lights aren’t pretty.”

The challenge in their voices wasn’t cruel. It was careful. It was real. Paige had heard enough fluff in the past year to last a lifetime, from branding execs, media people, even coaches who saw her more as a headline than a human. But this? This was two women saying, Show us who you are, and we’ll meet you there.

She inhaled slowly and met their gaze.

"I don’t want easy,” she said. "I’ve never wanted easy.” Her voice was low, but steady now. Honest. "I want to be part of something that matters. I want to lead a team, not just wear the jersey. I want to help build a foundation, a culture, that can survive the hard months together as a team. I have tried molding myself into roles I was never meant to fit, but I know what I am good at and where I need to develop. I want to play basketball the way I know how. I want to lead with heart, with intelligence, with all the parts of my game that don’t always show up on stat sheets.”

The screen was silent for a second, and Paige kept going.

"I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know it’s going to take time. But I’ve spent the last year watching people give up on their teams instead of trying to fix things. And maybe it sounds hypocritical, sitting here now talking about a trade. But the truth is, I’m not running from anything. I want to be the one who stays, the one who fights to make it work. I just need a team that’s willing to fight with me, not just sell my name.”

She hesitated, but only for a breath. Her next words came quieter. Not shy, just private. Meant for a different part of her.

"And I really want to do that with Azzi Fudd by my side. I want that team to be the Sparks." 

There. Out in the air.

No dramatic buildup. No rehearsed monologue. Just the truth she had carried since the trade became a possibility.

That she wanted to do this with her. That she wanted to build something beside her again, even if it hurt. Even if it took time.

Christine didn’t flinch. "You know that would bring a different kind of spotlight."

"I know," Paige said. "And I’m not here for the spotlight. I’m here to play basketball. Everything else is just noise."

Coach Roberts tilted her head slightly, considering her. Her voice softened just a touch.

"You think you are ready to be the face of this? Not just the jersey, Paige. The losses. The scrimmages no one watches. The days we rebuild from the ground up and you have to be the one who shows up early and leaves late, not because it’s glamorous, but because that’s what leaders do. Are you sure you are ready for that?”

Paige didn’t hesitate.

"I am already that player. I have been that player. I just need a place where it’s allowed to matter.”

There was a pause on the other end. Not awkward, just thoughtful.

Finally, Christine smiled slowly and exchanged a look with Roberts.

"Alright then. Thank you for your time, Paige. We’ll finalize things with Dallas.”

By 1 p.m. on Monday, it was done. Finalized.

A trade that would go down in WNBA history. The first time a No. 1 overall pick had been traded after a single season. The logistics came fast and heavy: legal reviews, medical clearances, jersey fittings, photo shoots, media briefings. Paige didn’t sleep.

It was like watching her life shift in real time, from muted greys back into colour.

By the 48-hour mark, she was sitting in a sleek conference room in downtown LA, her agents on one side, her publicist on the other, counting down the seconds to the press release. She could see the team’s social media manager in the hallway, pacing like a storm was coming.

And then her phone buzzed. One notification. Then another. Then a hundred.

🚨 BREAKING: Paige Bueckers traded to the Los Angeles Sparks 🚨

All hell broke loose.

At first, she tried to keep up. A flood of text messages, Instagram tags, Twitter mentions, ESPN notifications, reporters sliding into her DMs with carefully worded inquiries disguised as congratulations. Her name was trending. Her face was everywhere. Paige Bueckers. Los Angeles Sparks. The biggest trade in WNBA history — and it was hers.

She tried to absorb the weight of it, to sit in the high of it all. Her chest still buzzed with the residue of adrenaline. You did this. You made this happen. And she had. Fought for it. She hadn’t just fallen into a trade, she had asked for it, stood her ground for it. She’d walked into rooms with seasoned executives and calmly said, This is where I want to be. This is what I’m willing to give up. This is who I want to become.

But the noise got overwhelming quickly. She had people for that now, a media manager, a publicist, a social lead. All ready to filter the chaos. So after about another twenty minutes of trying to respond to the right messages, she flipped her notification settings into "Focus" mode.

Only her closest circle could reach her now.

Which is why, when the phone buzzed again, a different kind of buzz, the subtle one she assigned to her favourites, she glanced at it instinctively. 

Kate Fudd 2.23 p.m. Paige! Just wanted to say congrats! What a move!! We are so excited to see what you and Azzi are going to do together in LA.

Also, I know you’re busy, but we’re long overdue for a call. Let’s catch up soon, okay? Love you.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She opened it instantly, thumb frozen for a second as her eyes scanned the words, read them again, then again. Her lips curved into a soft, genuine smile, the kind that didn’t feel like PR or posturing, just real. Something warm pressed into her chest. 

The Fudds. God, she had missed them.

Azzi’s parents had welcomed her into their lives like it was the most natural thing in the world. Since she was fifteen, they’d been her second family. Kate had always had the exact right advice at the exact right moment. Tim had been equal parts goofy and grounding, ready with the worst dad jokes. They’d seen her at her lowest, at her cockiest, at her most in-between. And they’d loved her anyway.

Losing Azzi had felt like losing all of them.

She hadn’t known if it was okay to stay in touch at first. She hadn’t wanted to put them in the middle, or make anything harder than it already was. But weeks after the breakup, Tim texted her, a simple check-in, nothing heavy. And then Kate called a few days after that. Her voice had been warm. She hadn’t tried to dig for details, hadn’t asked for explanations. She’d just said the one thing Paige hadn’t known how much she needed to hear.

"We still love you, Paigey. We always will.”

It had cracked something open in Paige. Something small and quiet and scared. She’d clung to that voice like a lifeline, even as she kept most of her distance.

She typed a reply quickly, almost on instinct:

PAIGE

2.27 p.m.

Thank you, seriously. I’m so excited. Gonna bring a championship home, promise.

She paused. The little blinking cursor stared back at her, as if waiting. She could’ve left it there. Should’ve. But she didn’t. She added:

PAIGE

2.28 p.m.

How is she doing with everything?

It took a few minutes before the typing dots appeared, then vanished, then came back.

Kate Fudd

3.38 p.m.

She is giving herself space to feel it all. Not rushing it. But she’ll be okay. You know her. I am taking care of her, always.

Paige swallowed, her mouth dry. Her fingers tingled slightly as she leaned her head back against the chair cushion, staring up at the ceiling like it held the answers. She could hear Azzi’s laugh echoing somewhere in her mind, from a video in the UConn locker room, from a beach trip two summers ago, from a FaceTime at 2 a.m. when everything still felt right.

God, she missed her.

And not in the vague, wistful kind of way. Not in the abstract.

She missed the way Azzi would squeeze her wrist when she wanted to say something but couldn’t in a crowd. The way she tucked her legs underneath herself on long flights and always, always stole Paige’s sweatshirt, even if she was already wearing her own. The way she could read Paige’s silences better than most people could read her words.

Paige took a breath. Then typed slowly, deliberately.

PAIGE

3.45 p.m.

You and Tim should know… I’m not expecting her to forgive me. I am not holding my breath for some fairytale. But I’m going to fight for what I broke. For the love I still have for her. For the game. And whatever space she’s willing to make for me, I’ll show up and earn it. That is a promise.

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. Then set the phone down face down, palms flat on her thighs.

Outside, the sun was starting to dip below the LA skyline. The first pinkish brushstrokes of twilight smeared across the tall buildings and dusty hills. The kind of view you couldn’t get in Connecticut. The kind of view that whispered new beginning without even trying.

And it was. God, it was.

She was in LA. In the WNBA. A Los Angeles Sparks.

She had her own team, her own future unfolding in real time. She should’ve been flying, electric with possibility, buzzing with joy. And she was. The excitement was there, undeniable. It pulsed through her skin, made her want to wake up at 5 a.m. and train until her lungs burned. Made her hungry. Focused. Alive.

But none of it muted the steady ache sitting just beneath her ribs.

Because no matter how many people texted her congratulations, no matter how many edits got posted or reposted, she kept circling back to one absence.

Azzi.

Three days later, her draft night message still sat there at the top of the thread, unread or maybe just unacknowledged. A pinned memory of who they’d once been. Paige had sent it with shaking hands, knowing it was a risk, knowing she had no claim anymore to Azzi’s first reaction. But she’d hoped for something. Anything.

Instead: nothing. Not a like. Not a word. Not a sign.

But she didn’t blame her. How could she?

She understood. She’d messed it up. She’d broken something. Not just the relationship. The timing, the trust, all the moments she should’ve said the things she was only now learning how to articulate. Her silence had built a wall she didn’t know how to take down again. And maybe Azzi was better off without her.

Still… that didn’t make her want her any less.

She stared out the glass wall of the office. She wondered where Azzi was when the news dropped. If she saw it in real time. If she felt ambushed. If she already knew. Her stomach twisted at the thought that this reunion might feel like a trap to Azzi.

But now it was too late, they were on the same team. The same city. The same practice facility. Contractually bound to each other for at least the next three seasons.

That alone would have made Paige spiral if it were a few months ago, back when she was still trying to pretend she didn’t miss Azzi every day. But now? Now it felt like a second chance. A shot at something that mattered more than points or rings or Twitter hype.

She didn’t want to just fix it. She wanted to earn it.

Not just win her back, but prove, to Azzi, to herself, to everyone, that she could be the person who didn’t run. Who showed up. Who stayed.

Even when it was hard. Especially when it was hard.

The vibrating of her phone startled her. Another message, this one from Cameron Brink, tagging her in a new TikTok someone had made of the trade announcement, set to some dramatic pop remix. Paige grinned and shook her head.

It was kind of iconic.

She picked up her phone again and thumbed through her texts, watching her own message to Kate sit quietly at the bottom of the screen. Sent. Read. No reply yet. It was fine.

The real reply, the one that mattered, wasn’t going to come through a screen anyway.

It was going to come on the court. In the locker room. In moments of effort and vulnerability and time. In eye contact that held just a little too long. In laughs that started cautiously and then softened into something familiar. In showing up, again and again, until Azzi believed her.

She was ready for that.

For the first time in ages, she didn’t feel like she was performing her life. She felt like she was living it.

Paige set the phone down and let her head fall back against the chair. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, breathing in the cool, sterile hum of the office’s air conditioning. Somewhere in another room, someone was still talking about the trade — about her.

But for the first time in months, none of that noise mattered.

She didn’t feel lost anymore. Not like she had in Dallas, trying to fit into a system that never made room for her, trying to dim parts of herself to match someone else’s design. She didn’t feel like she was constantly behind, constantly scrambling to prove she belonged.

She felt… whole.

Not fixed. Not forgiven. But focused. Anchored. She was here. In L.A. In the W. 

Fighting for her place, for the love of the game that had carried her through everything. Fighting for something bigger than the next stat sheet or highlight reel.

Fighting for herself. And if she was lucky… maybe fighting for Azzi, too.

Because some things, no matter how complicated, were always worth the risk.

BLOCKBUSTER TRADE:

Paige Bueckers heads to Sparks in unprecedented deal, reunites with

Azzi Fudd in Los Angeles

By Erin Heath, ESPN Sport Journalist

LOS ANGELES — In a league-shifting move that’s already being dubbed the biggest WNBA trade in recent memory, the Los Angeles Sparks have acquired guard Paige Bueckers from the Dallas Wings in exchange for veteran Odyssey Sims, the Sparks' 2026 first-round pick (projected No. 2), and their 2026 second-round pick, both teams announced Monday.

The deal marks the first time in WNBA history that a No. 1 overall draft pick has been traded after just a single season, sending shockwaves through the league and setting a bold precedent for how franchises may approach talent development and roster strategy in the new era of WNBA free agency and movement.

"This was not an easy decision,” said Wings General Manager, Curt Miller. "We are incredibly grateful to Paige for her effort and professionalism. But ultimately, we had to make a move that aligned with our long-term goals. This deal gives us both veteran leadership and future draft capital.”

For the Sparks, this is more than a high-profile acquisition. It is a foundational step toward building a new era of competitive basketball in Los Angeles. And it reunites Bueckers with her longtime friend and former UConn teammate Azzi Fudd, who was selected No. 1 overall in this year’s draft and is seen as a future face of the W league.

"We believe Paige is a generational talent,” said Sparks team president, Christine Monjer. "Pairing Paige with Azzi gives us two of the most promising young guards in the game. They are players with not just elite skill, but a deep connection and shared history. We are excited about what they can build together for Los Angeles.”

The reunion storyline is already capturing attention. Though Bueckers and Fudd entered college with enormous hype as a duo, injuries limited their time on the court together at UConn. Still, their chemistry, both on and off the floor, was undeniable and many fans hoped they’d find their way back to each other in the pros.

Bueckers, who averaged 18.7 points, 8.7 assists and 3.4 rebounds in her rookie season, released a statement shortly after the trade became official:

"I will always be grateful to the Dallas Wings organisation for taking a chance on me and for the fans who supported me from day one. Sometimes you realize you don’t fit into a system in a way that helps either side thrive and that is okay.

I still want to fight for the love I have for this game. I want to fight for the player I believe I can still become. And I hope to do that with the people who’ve always seen me, even when I didn’t see myself.”

Sources say Bueckers initially turned down interest from Los Angeles last summer after one of their starting guards suffered a season-ending injury. But following a challenging rookie season in Dallas that saw the Wings narrowly miss the playoffs, conversations quietly resumed. This time with a different result.

The Sparks, currently in the early stages of a rebuild, are clearly looking to the future. With Fudd and Bueckers now sharing the backcourt, and a front office intent on returning to title contention, expectations are already building.

"We are not just collecting talent,” Christine Monjer added. "We are building a strong basketball culture. These two players know what it means to lead, to fight, to come back from setbacks. That is the kind of core you want to bet on.”

The trade sent ripples through the league and sparked strong reactions online from players and analysts. But if the Sparks' vision pans out, this could be remembered not just as a bold trade, but as the beginning of a new chapter in WNBA history.

And for Bueckers and Fudd, it’s a long-awaited chance to write it together.

Comments: 

@HoopsHeretic

Paige Bueckers traded after ONE year?? Never bought the hype. Can’t carry a team, can’t stay healthy, now she’s Hollywood-bound? Makes sense. 🤡

@WNBA_Nerds

This is an absolute WIN for the league. Paige + Azzi = box office. The Sparks are building something serious. This is how you make the WNBA must-watch TV.

@DallasFan_23

I’m actually sick. Letting go of a 24-year-old star guard with the best court vision in the league?? FOR ODYSSEY SIMS??? Management should be arrested.

@PazziTruthers

YOU’RE TELLING ME AZZI AND PAIGE ARE IN THE SAME CITY AGAIN. SAME TEAM. SAME LOCKER ROOM. I’ve waited my whole gay little life for this. #PazziEndgame 🌈

@FuddFanatic

Azzi finally gets to cook with Paige again. Y’all forgot how nasty they were even in limited games together. Trust, trust, truuuust. 🍿🔥

@RespectTheGame

From a basketball perspective, this is smart all around. LA is building a young core with chemistry. Dallas gets picks + vet leadership. Paige needed a fresh start. Win-win.

@BasketballDyke420

me watching Paige and Azzi warm up together in Sparks jerseys: 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

#Pazzi #wnba #theyreSOmarried

@BitterExFan99

I give it half a season before Bueckers fakes an injury again and Fudd and Plum has to carry the whole team. #overrated

@FuddBueckers_Updates

They really went from rehab buddies to backcourt dreams. UConn fans, we ate. WNBA fans, we feast. #PazziNation

Azzi POV:

Azzi couldn’t breathe.

She sat curled up in the corner of her childhood bed, knees hugged tight to her chest, phone gripped between trembling fingers like it might vanish if she let go. The soft thrum of her parents’ voices floated up from downstairs. Warm, familiar, impossibly distant. None of it could reach her here, not through the haze of disbelief thickening in her chest.

At the top of her lock screen, the ESPN banner glared like a siren:

🚨BLOCKBUSTER TRADE: Paige Bueckers heads to Sparks in unprecedented deal, reunites with Azzi Fudd in Los Angeles 🚨

Her breath hitched the first time she read it.

The words stared back at her, steady and impossible. She’d read the article three times by now. No, six. She could hear the panelists on Get Up in the background, their excited chatter: "The chemistry between Fudd and Bueckers goes way back.” "They’ve always been more than teammates.” "This is the kind of backcourt that could define a generation.”

And they weren’t wrong. Just not in the way they meant it.

Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Azzi and Paige. In the same jersey. In the same city. On the same team.

God.

It should have been a dream. Any other version of her life, any version where things hadn’t fallen apart, would have had her screaming and sprinting down the stairs. She would have thrown herself into her mom’s arms, laughed too loud on FaceTime with Paige, already picturing the tunnels, the pregame walks, the way her and Paige’s names would be announced together like they were meant to be.

But this?

This felt like getting punched in the stomach and kissed on the forehead at the same time.

Her mind kept spiralling, and not into game strategy or lineups or training camp. It spiralled backward. Into the soft stuff. The real stuff. The parts she hadn’t let herself touch in months.

Azzi swallowed hard and let her eyes fall shut. But it only made it worse. Because with the world spinning around her, her body chose betrayal. It remembered.

It remembered everything.

It remembered Paige’s laugh first. Not the public one, the wide-open cackle that made highlight reels, but the private one, hushed and muffled into Azzi’s neck at 2 a.m. after a road game, when they were tangled in a twin-sized hotel bed and whispering about nothing. It remembered Paige’s breath catching when Azzi rubbed her thumb just under the hem of her hoodie. It remembered her favourite lotion, the lavender one Paige always used post-therapy. It remembered the specific way Paige’s face looked when she was faking a smile for a trainer versus when she was trying not to cry in front of the team.

Azzi blinked, and she was sixteen again, sitting next to Paige on a long bus ride, knees knocking, her head slumped onto Azzi’s shoulder. No one questioned it. They were "best friends,” after all. But they’d always been more than that, hadn’t they? Since the beginning. Since the first time their hands brushed at Team USA camp when they were fourteen and fifteen and too scared to call what they had anything but friendship. Since they started those dumb little competitions, who could shoot more threes in a row, who could hold a plank longer, who could make the other break into laughter first at practice. Their entire foundation had been built on closeness. Competition, yes, but also intimacy. Also love.

Azzi could feel it now, the ache of it settling into her ribs. The nights they’d both been benched with injuries, their bodies half-broken but pressed close on the training room table, whispering encouragements, holding each other's hands while trainers adjusted ice packs and taped ankles. The sound of Paige gritting her teeth through pain and still asking if Azzi was okay. The taste of cherry Gatorade and shared painkillers and a kind of desperate, silent loyalty that no one else ever really understood.

They held each other up like that. In every way. Every damn day.

She remembered the Monday night ice cream date tradition they started after away games. Paige’s idea. Win or lose, they'd find a corner shop and split a cup. Always cookie chip, always with sprinkles.

She remembered Paige rubbing the tension from her calves after a double overtime, her hands firm, her mouth soft against Azzi’s knee when no one was looking. She remembered being nineteen and thinking: This is what forever feels like.

They wore each other's merch like armour. Paige in Azzi's player edition hoodie, Azzi in Paige's throwback tee. An unspoken message that everyone around them seemed to catch eventually. I’m hers. She’s mine.

People always asked about their chemistry, their friendship, their "sisterhood,” and Azzi smiled through it, but they’d always been more than best friends. Since the beginning. Azzi had known — somewhere deep in her ribcage — that Paige was it for her. Long before they kissed. Long before they even admitted they were anything more than best friend. 

And when they finally said it out loud, they swore it didn’t change anything, that they’d still be best friends first.

And when that’s taken from you, when the person you built your whole world around suddenly isn’t there, you don’t just relearn how to survive.

You have to relearn how to wake up without reaching for them. How to walk into a room that used to be filled with their laugh. How to exist without the only person who ever truly felt like home.

And no one tells you that the hardest part isn’t the heartbreak. It’s the remembering, every day, in a thousand small ways, that they are still out there. Just not yours.

God. How the hell was she supposed to be on a team with her again?

To share a locker room with her? To lace up next to her before games, sit beside her on planes, high-five her after every bucket, all while pretending she didn’t still love her like she was made of all the things Azzi has ever craved?

Azzi opened her eyes and stared at her phone. Paige’s last message sat there, pinned to the top like a dare:

PAIGE

April 11, 0.22 a.m.

Congrats, Azz. I’m so damn proud of you. Go make them remember your name. They have no idea what’s coming.

She hadn’t replied. She hadn’t known how. Not when her heart still clenched every time she saw Paige’s name. Not when she could still feel the ghost of her touch like it had only been days, not months, since they'd last kissed. Since they'd last laid in the dark pretending this thing between them was not slowly cracking under pressure.

And now Paige was coming to LA.

Los Angeles. The city that already carried their shared history like a second skin. The few weeks they spent there two years ago, just the two of them, playing one-on-one in pickup gyms, staying up till 3 a.m. watching film and eating cereal on the floor of their Airbnb. The way Paige looked at her that July night from the rooftop courts, all sweaty and soft and sure. Azzi had kissed her there, half out of breath, wholly in love, with the skyline behind them and the rest of their lives ahead.

And now LA was her team. Their team.

How was she supposed to see Paige in the locker room every day and not reach for her? How was she supposed to dribble past her in practice and not remember how it felt to have her whisper I love you against her jaw after a win? How was she supposed to play alongside Paige Bueckers and not look at her like she’d planned to live her whole life holding her hand?

Her heart thudded painfully.

Because here was the thing: Paige had always felt inevitable. Through every high and every heartbreak, every team, every injury, every mile apart, Azzi had still seen her in the imagined shape of her future. Still pictured her at thirty-five and forty and fifty, standing courtside at kids’ games, curled into each other on Sunday mornings, arguing over who made better pancakes. Paige had been home before either of them knew what that word even meant.

And now they were going to wear the same jersey again. Walk into the same tunnel. Be introduced side by side.

And Azzi didn’t know how to not love her.

Did Paige know what she was doing? Had she asked for the trade? Had she known what this would do to her?

Or was it fate? The universe, cruel and persistent, folding them back into the same space after everything they'd done to keep things neat and finished and over?

She didn’t know what terrified her more, that this was a second chance, or that it wasn’t.

All she knew was that whatever came next, she had no idea how to protect herself from it.

The knock was soft. So soft it could’ve been the wind, but Azzi knew better. It was the kind of knock that came from someone who already understood the storm behind the silence. She didn’t move. Just blinked down at the text still sitting unread at the top of her screen, willing it to vanish or explain itself, anything but continue to haunt her. The door creaked open anyway, slowly, like even it was holding its breath, and her mom’s face appeared, eyes already full of knowing.

Azzi’s gaze barely flicked upward before it fell again, but her mom had seen enough. She always did. Always had.

Azzi gave the smallest nod, more of a surrender than an invitation. Her mom slipped into the room without a word, closing the door with the kind of care that made the air feel gentler. The scent of her mom’s lotion, flowery and something warm and clean, wrapped around her like a blanket from childhood. The floorboard under her feet groaned in that familiar way, the one that had always meant home. She perched on the edge of the bed, knees angled toward Azzi, reaching out like a ritual, her fingers brushing the shoulder of Azzi’s hoodie.

"How are you feeling?” she asked softly, her voice a gentle hum more than a question.

Azzi shrugged. Even okay felt like a betrayal of how hollow she was inside. So she didn’t say anything. Just let herself sit there, holding herself upright like her bones were scaffolding barely holding back the collapse.

Her mom didn’t ask again. She didn’t need to. She just kept rubbing circles into Azzi’s hoodie, the fabric soft from wear, one of Paige’s old ones, actually. From high school, Azzi realized with a pang. The blue embroidery at the hem, still faintly intact, read "Hopkins.” She used to steal it just to see Paige roll her eyes and say, keep it, it looks better on you anyway. Paige had always liked when Azzi wore her things. Same way Azzi liked seeing Paige in her old St. John’s warm-up tee. Their version of a love language. Not hidden, but unspoken. Loud to anyone paying attention.

And her mom had always paid attention.

She’d been there for all of it. The camps. The summer holidays. The first time Paige made Azzi laugh so hard she snorted milk out of her nose. The first sleepover where they’d stayed up playing stupid card games with the other girls but curled around each other under the covers after everyone else had knocked out. They hadn’t kissed then, not yet, but the current had been there, humming just beneath the skin. And her mom had seen it. Long before Azzi could name it, long before she felt brave enough to want it out loud.

Her mom was the one who welcomed Paige into their home when COVID locked the world down. No hesitation, no question. "She can stay as long as she wants.” As if Paige hadn’t already claimed a piece of their lives. As if she hadn’t already crawled into every corner of Azzi’s heart and made a home there.

She’d come to family vacations. Holidays. Random weekends. Her mom always said the same thing: There’s room for her. Even when suitcases were overflowing and couches were already claimed, Paige was part of the equation. Her laugh filled the kitchen. Her socks ended up in the laundry. She said thank you every night after dinner, hugged Azzi’s mom tight like it was second nature. Like she belonged. Because she did.

It was her mom who had pulled her aside one night, years ago, when they were walking the dog and Azzi thought she was being subtle, thought her feelings were still private and unsaid.

"Honey,” her mom had murmured, gently, "it’s okay. I know. And it’s okay that you’re in love with her.”

And Azzi had cried, right there on the sidewalk, cheeks burning and chest breaking open. Not from fear, but from the uncontainable relief of being seen. Of being loved anyway.

Her mom had always seen her. And she had seen Paige, too. She wasn’t just Azzi’s person. She was theirs.

Which was why, when Azzi called months ago, sobbing into the receiver with a voice that sounded cracked and unrecognizable, "We broke up", her mom didn’t ask questions. She just whispered, "I’m coming,” and was there within hours. A suitcase in one hand, a wrapped-up hoodie in the other, like she already knew Azzi wouldn’t have the strength to get out of bed.

They didn’t talk that night. Azzi just cried. Her mom just held her. That was enough.

Now, she wasn’t holding her with arms, she didn’t need to. Her presence was enough. Her silence was full of understanding.

"I didn’t answer her,” Azzi said finally, voice barely above breath. "She texted me after the draft. I didn’t… I didn’t know what to say.”

Her mom’s hand stilled for a moment.

"I don’t think she knew,” Azzi whispered, eyes fixed on the message still pinned at the top of her screen. "Like, I don’t think she asked for this. It feels like… like it just happened. Like she got traded and had no choice. Like now she’s stuck with me. Again.”

That last word hurt to say. Like it betrayed how deep this ache went.

Her mom turned, meeting her eyes, not with pity, but with that same fierce, maternal ache Azzi had always known. The kind that would step in front of trains for her if it meant easing the hurt even a fraction.

"You don’t know that,” she said gently.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek. "But I don’t not know it.”

Her throat thickened again. She glanced down at the message still there, silent and waiting.

They have no idea what’s coming.

Neither did she.

"Maybe,” her mom murmured, her voice like the brushing of a breeze through a window, "you should call her. Just… talk to her.”

Azzi’s head whipped up like she’d just been slapped. "Are you serious?”

She looked at her mom in disbelief, like she hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes pouring every drop of fear onto the floor between them. And now she was supposed to just call Paige?

But her mom didn’t waver. She just smiled, not wide, but soft. Sad, maybe. Steady, always. Her hand reached up, brushing a stray curl away from Azzi’s cheek, thumb resting with a weight that anchored.

"Baby… she’s still Paige,” she said, like that explained everything. And maybe it did.  "She’s still the same girl who hopped on a plane during her freshman year because you had a fight and you decided to ignore her calls and texts. Who showed up here without telling anyone, just so she could sit outside your door until you stopped pretending you weren’t home.”

Azzi’s chest twisted. God, she remembered.

"She didn’t even bring clothes,” her mom added with a soft chuckle. "Just that baggy hoodie and all that stubborn love.”

Azzi almost laughed. Almost. But the ache wouldn’t let her. "That was different.”

Her mom’s thumb brushed lightly against her jaw. "Not as different as you think. You’re older now, yeah. Maybe hurt. But the part of her, the part that always shows up, I don’t think that ever left.”

Azzi let her eyes fall closed for a second, head dipping into her mom’s palm like she could borrow the strength she’d lost.

"When is the last time you talked to her?” she asked quietly.

Her mom didn’t miss a beat. "Just now. Messaged her a few minutes ago.”

Azzi’s eyes flew open. "Wait... what?”

Her mom’s expression was unbothered. "Wanted to say congratulations. She answered right away.”

"You are just texting Paige now?” Azzi said, scandalized.

"She’ll always be family,” her mom replied, calm and sure. "She still thinks of us that way too. No matter how messy things are with you two that doesn’t vanish overnight.”

Azzi let herself fall backward onto the bed, breath leaving her in a long, tangled exhale. The guilt. The longing. The confusion. It all collided at once, leaving her in pieces.

"You really think she’d want to hear from me?”

Her mom’s hand found hers and squeezed. "I know she would.”

Azzi looked down again at her phone. That unread message glowed like a lighthouse in a storm. A dare. A hope. 

She didn’t answer. 

[badjokesbyjeff]

There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted. 

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"