#how they remember themselves and how they remember others

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

tf!141 x angel!reader finding an angel that fell, “teaching” her how to live on earth and corrupting her innocence 🫣

Divine Intervention


Pairing: Poly!141 x reader

Au: Fallen Angel! Reader x Human! reader


Warnings: Sensual tension, implied corruption kink, religious themes (angel/fall imagery), mild dubcon-adjacent themes (consent present but reader is naïve), slow burn tension, swearing, possession/claiming, SMUT, reader falling from grace
Author's Note: You fell from the sky and into their hands. But heaven had no idea what hell you’d walk into.
Summary: You fell from the sky into their world. But instead of salvation, you found something darker—something tempting. Now, under their watchful eyes, your innocence starts to unravel.
Masterlist
MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

——

The first thing you remembered was heat.
The second was pain.

You’d fallen. You didn’t know how. One moment, you were high above—weightless, woven into the light—and then…

Ash. Fire. Earth.

It had taken them hours to find you.

You’d landed deep in the war-torn woods, crumpled at the base of a tree, shivering. Wings bent. Feet bare. No concept of where—or what—you were anymore. But when they approached, bristling with weapons and suspicion, you raised your glowing hand—

And healed one of them.

After that, they didn’t ask many questions. They just took you with them.

——

The humans called themselves a task force.

They were unlike any beings you’d ever encountered. Made of steel and blood and heat. They spoke in clipped orders and sharp wit, hands rough with years of war, yet their eyes softened every time they looked at you like you were something fragile.

Especially when you smiled.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Kyle asked one night, sitting with you on the couch in the base rec room. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, and you were watching the flickering lights of the TV like they might burst into flame.

“No,” you said softly.

He tilted his head. “Where then?”

You glanced up. Your voice came out as little more than a breath.

“Above.”

He stared at you for a long time after that.

——

They learned quickly how untouched you were by Earth’s ways.

You didn’t know what a microwave was. You didn’t know why people wore socks. You cried when you watched a video of a dog being rescued, and you asked Johnny if eating ice cream for breakfast was really acceptable.

(He told you yes. John had to correct him later.)

Simon rarely said much. But he watched you.

And when he saw how you flinched from loud sounds, how your fingers fluttered nervously when you didn’t understand something, how you leaned closer to the warmth of their bodies without realizing it—his jaw clenched a little tighter.

Because he could see what the others were starting to see too.

You were breakable.
But you were also changing.

——

The first crack came with a kiss.

Johnny teased you constantly. Called you “Angel,” winked when you were confused, poked fun at how you thought “bollocks” meant something polite.

“You ever been kissed, sweetheart?” he asked one evening, sprawled on the edge of your bed, boots off, grin wide.

You blinked at him, blinking like a fawn. “No.”

His smile faltered. “Not even once?”

You shook your head. “There was no need. We were made of light, not… flesh.”

Johnny exhaled sharply, leaning closer. “Want to know what it feels like?”

You hesitated. “Would that… help me understand Earth?”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, Angel. More than you know.”

The kiss was featherlight—his lips brushing yours, lingering, drawing back. Your breath hitched. Your wings fluttered violently.

And behind you, a single feather fell.

When it hit the floor, it turned black.

——

That night, you cried in Price’s arms.

You were shaking. You felt different. The light inside you, the one that always hummed quietly, was dimming. You could feel yourself becoming… more. Heavier. Realer. Human.

“I think I’m falling,” you whispered into his shirt. “Truly falling.”

Price didn’t speak for a moment. He simply held you tighter.

“Then we’ll catch you,” he said. “We already have.”

——

They were patient at first.

They showed you how to exist. Johnny taught you to dance, twirling you in the rec room until you were breathless. Kyle explained what movies were and cried with you during Wall-E. Price taught you how to fire a gun (you didn’t like it) and how to drive a car (you loved it).

But it was Simon who taught you temptation.

Not through words—but in the way he looked at you.

That first time you wore one of Johnny’s shirts, just long enough to cover you but not long enough to be decent, Simon’s eyes burned.

“You shouldn’t wear that,” he murmured.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He leaned close, his voice a low rasp. “Because you have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?”

Your breath caught.

Because… no. You didn’t.

But you were starting to want to.

——

One night, it all came undone.

It started with Johnny. Of course it did.

You’d wandered into the kitchen in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Something about the air felt strange. Heavy. When you stepped into the light, Johnny nearly dropped the glass in his hand.

You were barefoot. The hem of your borrowed sleep shirt brushed your thighs. Your hair was messy, your expression soft with confusion.

“You alright, love?” he asked gently.

You tilted your head. “I can’t sleep. I keep feeling… things.”

“What kind of things?”

You touched your chest. “Warm. Low. Hungry, but not for food.”

He froze. His pulse ticked in his throat.

“You want me to show you what that is?”

You nodded.

Johnny kissed you again—but it was different this time.

Not soft. Not teasing.

Starving.

He pulled you against him, hands bracketing your waist. You gasped into his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your wings flickered behind you—and one more feather fell.

And from the doorway, three pairs of eyes watched.

——

Kyle was the first to join.

He crossed the room in three long strides, gently taking your hand from Johnny’s shoulder. You turned to him, lips parted, pupils blown.

“You want to understand this, yeah?” he asked, voice husky.

You nodded.

He kissed your neck.

Then Simon’s hands were on your waist. His mask still on, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You’re not leaving this room the same, dove,” he said, voice like gravel.

And then his lips brushed your shoulder.

You whimpered.

Price stepped in last. Calm. Composed. But his hands trembled when they cupped your jaw.

“You’re ours now,” he murmured.

And you knew it was true.

Because your light had faded.

But it was replaced by something else.

Desire. Hunger. Devotion.

——

They didn’t rush you.

Not at first.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, body flushed and trembling, with Johnny’s lips still wet from kissing you, and the others watching you like men on the edge of hunger—but still holding the line.

Price came to you first.

His hands were warm and steady as they cupped your face. He tilted your chin up with practiced ease, gazing at you like you were something precious. His voice was low, gravel brushed with something softer.

“We’ll stop if you want to. Say the word, Angel.”

You looked up at him, chest heaving, caught between worlds.

“I… I want to understand,” you whispered.

He hummed, approval deep in his chest. “Then let us show you.”

It began with touch.

Simon’s gloved hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingers moved slowly, reverently, tracing along the bare skin of your thighs, your hips, your ribs. Every time he brushed over something new, you gasped softly, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of sensation.

Johnny leaned in close to your ear. “You feel everything so deeply, don’t you?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“Good,” he breathed, and his mouth pressed against your neck.

Kyle kissed your shoulder while Simon’s hands framed your waist. It was a dance—four bodies learning yours, syncing breath, pressure, movement. They were worshipful. Greedy. Careful. Demanding.

Your shirt slipped away first.

Then your breath caught as Price whispered, “Lie back, sweetheart.”

You did.

They undressed you like a ritual. Johnny knelt first, pressing hot kisses across your stomach, his palms gliding over your thighs with rough, calloused reverence. His eyes flicked up to you, darker than you’d ever seen them.

“You’re so bloody soft,” he said, voice husky. “Bet you’ve never been touched like this.”

Your lips parted. “No. Never.”

Kyle leaned over and kissed you again—this time slower. Deeper. His hands splayed across your chest, fingers teasing your curves, feeling your breath catch beneath them. He moaned softly against your mouth.

“You don’t know what you do to us,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you said, voice shaking.

Simon’s fingers traced down your bare sides, lingering at the curve of your hips. He leaned down, his breath hot against your throat. “Then let us show you. One inch at a time.”

You were kissed. Touched. Claimed.

Johnny’s mouth worshipped you with hot, open kisses down your stomach. Kyle’s hands cupped your chest, fingertips teasing until your back arched. Price whispered filth and praise against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. Simon stayed at your side, watching, stroking your skin like he was etching every shiver into memory.

When you cried out—soft and overwhelmed—Johnny’s lips never stopped moving.

“That’s it, Angel,” he rasped. “Let go. Let yourself fall.”

And fall you did.

Again and again, into their hands. Their mouths. Their arms.

They took turns.

Not with greed, but purpose. Johnny kissed your thighs like he was grateful for them. Kyle touched you like you were sacred. Simon growled into your skin when you trembled under his palm, and Price… Price held your face while you gasped his name like a prayer.

The night blurred.

Sweat. Warmth. Laughter. Whispers.

“Look how much you’re glowing,” Kyle murmured against your throat.

Simon kissed your ribs. “You’re learning.”

“You’re ours now,” Johnny said, pressing his lips just beneath your navel.

And Price, steady and sure, whispered, “You were always meant to fall. You just didn’t know what was waiting for you at the bottom.”

By the end, you were sated.

Stretched across soft sheets with four men tucked against your sides, your wings sprawled wide over their bodies. No longer white. No longer untouched.

But not broken.

Transformed.

And when you woke hours later—your limbs aching in the best ways, your chest fluttering with something warm and full—you felt… whole.

You turned your head and saw them. Johnny with his messy hair pressed against your stomach. Kyle curled at your back, an arm slung over your waist. Simon, mask on but lifted just enough for his mouth to press kisses to your shoulder. Price at your side, eyes open and watching you with something ancient and endless in his gaze.

“You alright?” he asked, voice raw from sleep.

You smiled.

“I think I’m finally alive.”

——

By morning, your wings were black.

Not rotten. Not ugly. Just… reborn. Feathers sleek like raven’s velvet. Still soft. Still yours.

But no longer pure.

And when you looked at yourself in the mirror, lips swollen, neck marked, body trembling—you didn’t cry.

You smiled.

Because this was your new heaven.
And they were your gods now.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[pbaz7]

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 10

paige x azzi

word count: 9.1k

a/n: my sleep schedule has been shitty as hell so i don’t even remember writing half of this honestly. so sorry it took so long. feel free to let me know if there’s anything specific you’d like to see in the series or any comments you have! if they’re any mistakes please let me know :)

—————————————————————————

For about two weeks, all Paige and Azzi did was orbit around each other. They were tangled in quiet routines that they created for themselves, mixed with the perfect amount of chaotic affection. Days melted into nights with no clear beginning or end, the rhythm they’d set with each other was the only thing that seemed to matter.

Azzi managed to do a few basketball workouts here and there. Small things just to keep her body moving and active during her break. During one of them, she surprisingly discovered that Paige could actually hoop. She wasn’t flashy about it, but she moved with a gracefulness when she had the ball in her hand. Azzi had grinned at her from across the gym, a little breathless from her own workout. Paige had just smirked at her before dribbling the ball between her legs and looking away.

Grocery store trips turned into adventures, Azzi throwing random snacks in the cart just to see what Paige would veto or complain about. They cooked shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, feeding bites of food from each other’s plates and slow dancing to whatever playlist was echoing through the house. Azzi always cooked what she knew Paige preferred to eat and Paige always forced Azzi to sit down while she cleaned.

And of course mixed in with their new found domestication they were all over each other constantly. The kitchen counter, the couch, the shower, the floor that one time they drunkenly didn’t make it to the bed, in front of the fireplace, the laundry room table. It didn’t matter where they were or what time it was. If Azzi looked at Paige a certain way, that was all it took and well...Azzi was always looking at Paige a certain way.

In those two weeks Azzi discovered something soft, something she didn’t know she craved until it was in front of her. Paige had a protector’s heart, and Azzi loved every second of it.

Paige always slept on the side of the bed closest to the door; Azzi learned the hard way when Paige pushed her to the other side of the bed in the middle of REM sleep the night she had gone to bed before her. Paige unlocked the car for Azzi first, waiting until Azzi was inside before locking the door back and walking around to the driver’s side. She always chose a seat with a clear view of the exit, her posture relaxed and attuned to what Azzi was saying but always somehow alert. Azzi noticed how Paige would subtly angle herself toward her when they walked through crowds, or how Paige’s hand would naturally rest on her lower back gently leading her.

Azzi had her own small habits too. She folded Paige’s laundry in the meticulous way Paige liked it—T-shirts rolled, not folded. She helped Paige wash her hair when she complained about having to do it. She traced the lines of Paige’s back with her fingers absentmindedly when they were laying on the couch, whispering soft questions that kept her alert. She learned the difference between Paige’s “I’m fine” and her actual fine, the way her voice would dip a little lower when she was overwhelmed, how her eyes would drift somewhere to the corner when she needed a break but didn’t want to hurt Azzi’s feelings and ask for one.

In two weeks, they’d mapped out the best kind of intimacy a relationship could have. It wasn’t loud, nor performative for anyone around them but perfect for their bubble. Built through sleepy forehead kisses, late-night drives when Azzi couldn’t fall asleep, and a thousand small details that they started to memorize.

Somewhere in the middle of all of it, they fell even deeper for the other, neither of them saying the words but showing it in every look, touch, and act of care.

…

Present day Azzi had just gotten goddess braids for the off season and Paige hadn’t stopped staring at her since.

Paige barely blinked when Azzi first stepped out of the salon, her eyes dragging over her like she was seeing her for the first time all over again. Now on the drive home, Paige couldn’t stop glancing over, mumbling half-sentences like “I feel like I’m cheating, swear to God.”

Azzi just laughed as she rested her elbow against the window and turned her head toward Paige. “Mmm you keep looking at me like that, we’re not making it through the door.”

Paige just shook her head, biting her lip, eyes sweeping from Azzi’s hair down to her collarbone like she couldn’t help herself before drifting back to the road. “I’m tryna be respectful baby, but Jesus.”

As soon as the front door closed Paige was behind Azzi, wrapping her arms around her waist and brushing her lips against her shoulder as she spoke. “You got me a lil ready for you already, mama,” she whispered.

Azzi turned her head slightly to whisper back, “You’re the one out here in all black like you don’t know what that does to me.”

Paige hummed, a small smile on her lips. “So we thinkin’ the same thing.”

Azzi laughed and tried to walk away, to at least kick off her shoes and grab some water, but Paige wasn’t having it as she immediately tugged Azzi gently back against her. “Just lemme look at you for a second,” Paige whispered, and Azzi could hear the sincerity in her voice. She turned, slowly to face her fully now. Paige’s heart skipped as her eyes met Azzi’s again, her gaze drinking in every new detail. The braids framed Azzi’s face perfectly and they were pulled back enough to show off her dimples and her doe eyes.

Paige reached up, using her middle finger and thumb to brush one of the braids like it was something delicate. “You look perfect,” she said, quietly. “Like…fuck man.”

Azzi let her hands rest on Paige’s hips, slipping her thumbs underneath the edge of the black tank top she’d been side-eyeing all day. “Lemme see how perfect you can make me feel baby.”

Paige grinned as she gently grabbed Azzi’s chin before connecting their lips. Making sure to kiss her intentionally; hungry in that way that never seemed to go away no matter how many days they spent tangled up in each other.

Without breaking the kiss, Paige swept her arms under Azzi’s thighs and lifted her off the ground causing Azzi to gasp against her mouth as she wrapped her arms around Paige’s neck. Paige carried her to the kitchen and sat her on the counter gently to stand between her legs.

Azzi barely had time to process the cold surface against her thighs before she felt Paige’s mouth on her neck and her hands under her shirt, trailing up her sides like she already knew every inch of her skin by heart.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes before Paige was helping Azzi pull off her shirt. Throwing it somewhere over her shoulder. She pulled back to take a breath and her eyes roamed over Azzi’s chest, her jaw tightening slightly.

“God damn,” she mumbled, her eyes full of admiration as she leaned in again, kissing and sucking along Azzi’s chest.

Azzi messily pulled Paige’s tank up and over her head, revealing the bruises, scratches, and love bites still fresh across her skin. Azzi’s eyes dragged over each one. All of them were small territorial pieces of evidence from the other day when Paige practically dared her to make a point because Azzi was pissy over another woman touching Paige’s arm.

Her fingers ghosted over the marks on Paige’s ribs, and she smiled. “I like these on you.”

Paige smiled as her mouth continued to trail down the valley of Azzi’s chest. “Still feel it every time I move.”

Azzi’s fingers moved down to undo Paige’s belt, her breath catching when Paige pulled her bra down slightly and her teeth nipped at her nipple before soothing it with her tongue. “Good,” she whispered, “Maybe next time you won’t let other bitches flirt with you in front of me.”

Paige laughed against her chest. “Nobody was flirting with me baby.”

Azzi just rolled her eyes and pulled Paige up to connect their lips. They were so wrapped up in one another—Azzi fingers tangled in Paige’s hair, Paige pulling at Azzi’s hips to get closer, her belt clinking against the edge of the counter—that they didn’t hear the front door open. They didn’t hear the keys drop in the bowl by the entrance.

Azzi’s breath hitched when Paige bit at her bottom lip before sloppily trailing down her neck.

The belt clinked softly against the edge of the counter again, but it was barely noticeable over the sounds of their own breathing. Azzi moaned softly as Paige sucked on the pulse point of her neck, moving her hands down to grip the edge of the counter.

“Yo, are y’all—? Oh my God!”

Azzi was slightly startled and on instinct pulled Paige closer to her to block their view, her chest unsteady as they both turned their heads toward the kitchen entrance.

Cam spun around so fast her blonde braid whipped behind her, using her hands to cover her face as she squeezed her eyes shut in horror. “Lord, please, I am begging you to please never let me see my sister like that again. Please, God. Take the memory away.”

Rickea and Rae stood there completely frozen, their mouths slightly open, Rickea’s eyes scanning Paige’s torso in shock while Rae’s just stayed locked in place.

Meanwhile, DiJonai brushed right past them all to open the fridge like she wasn’t surprised at what she’d just walked into in the slightest. Only offering a, “Y’all better not be sweating on the counters I’m supposed to be cooking on.”

Once Azzi adjusted her bra she turned fully toward the group looking a little mortified.

Paige, on the other hand, leaned against the counter casually and seemed completely unbothered, even with her pants still undone and her abs on display.

Rickea let out a whistle as her eyes dragged across Paige’s torso. “Damn...look like somebody been busy. She been fucking you up.”

Paige glanced down at herself and smirked. “Lil bit.”

Cam, who was still turned away, groaned louder. “Why are you answering her?! Paige I cannot unsee this. I need bleach for my eyes. Therapy maybe.”

Rae blinked once, still not saying anything, but her gaze hadn’t moved away from Paige’s exposed stomach and the way her opened pants hung a little too low on her hips.

Azzi noticed and her jaw tensed, a slight possessiveness burning in her chest as she snatched Paige’s shirt off the counter and tossed it at her aggressively. “Put on a shirt.”

Paige easily caught it sliding the black tank top over her head without saying anything. She took her time buttoning and zipping her pants before looping her belt back through. Azzi could tell that her usual wall was back up without her even saying anything.

Rickea laughed under her breath, elbowing Rae. “You really couldn’t look anywhere else?”

Rae blinked again, like she finally snapped out of her daze. “I—I didn’t even realize. That was involuntary, I’m sorry.”

“Right,” Azzi said flatly, yanking her own shirt over her head. “Y’all ever heard of knocking?”

Before anyone could respond, Cam, who was still facing the other direction with her eyes on the ceiling said, “Paige, are you fully clothed now?”

Paige didn’t bother answering. She moved to brush past her before heading upstairs. Which, of course, left Azzi standing alone in the kitchen.

“So that’s what y’all be on?” Rickea teased, as she crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “I ain’t know you were a lil kinky.”

Cam groaned.

Rae, who was leaning on the counter, decided to add her two cents, “So what’s the safe word?”

Azzi rolled her eyes so hard it could’ve been audible. “Y’all are annoying.”

“Annoying, or right?” Rickea grinned. “Because the evidence is all over Paige’s body.”

“It’s giving: ‘do not cook on that counter,’” Cam mumbled, finally turning around. “I swear if I ever eat toast off that counter again and catch a flavor—”

“Cam,” Azzi groaned, her face starting to burn as she reached for a water bottle to occupy her hands. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Cam repeated. “You had my sister shirtless with her pants open in the kitchen in the middle of the day!”

“And I’d do it again,” Azzi said under her breath, but it was loud enough to make Rickea holler.

“She said what she said!”

DiJonai, who was sitting at the counter eating grapes, finally spoke up. “Y’all acting shocked like we ain’t all see this coming eventually.”

“True,” Rickea nodded. “Still...the kitchen, though Azzi?”

Azzi took a sip of her water and shrugged. “The vibe was right.”

Before anyone could respond, they heard Paige coming back down the stairs and they all turned towards her when she walked in the kitchen. “Why are y’all in my house?”

Cam looked at her like she was confused by the question. “Umm, maybe because your entire family is in town and coming over for dinner? Or did you forget?”

Paige just blinked at her, completely void of any recognition about what she was saying.

Rickea snorted and Rae tried to hide her smile while Cam sighed dramatically. “You don’t remember, do you?” Cam asked.

“No,” Paige said dryly before walking over to reach into DiJonai’s bowl of grapes and tossing one in her mouth.

DiJonai nudged the bowl a little closer to her without looking up from her phone. “Don’t eat the green ones. They’re too sour.”

Paige wordlessly nodded before picking through the bowl until she had a small handful of red ones. When she was done she turned and made her way into the living room, sinking into the couch before throwing on a random NBA game. Muted, of course.

The others lingered in the kitchen for a few seconds before they naturally drifted after her.

“So what are we making for dinner?” Rickea asked, as she sat on the arm of the chair closest to the couch. “Cause I’m not about to eat anything Cam cooks.”

Cam rolled her eyes. “That one time the chicken was undercooked was years ago.”

“That was last summer,” Rae corrected, as she scrolled through her phone.

DiJonai walked in and said, “I got salmon when we were at the store but I’m not about to do everything myself.”

They all settled into the living room, discussing sides and who was cooking what but it started to get a little loud when Rae and Rickea were arguing over who would prep the salmon for DiJonai.

This caused Paige to break her silence without looking at them. “If you gon’ talk,” she said flatly, “at least lower your voice.”

“Damn, I thought you’d be nicer now that you’re fuckin’ all the time,” Rickea said.

Paige turned her head to give Rickea a look that was so blank it bordered on disrespectful.

Azzi, who finally wandered in the living room had two waters in her hand and passed one to Paige before easing onto the couch next to her. She glanced between Paige and the rest of the group chuckling to herself a little. “What happened to that smile you had ten minutes ago pretty?” she teased gently as she bumped Paige’s knee with her own.

Paige’s eyes shifted toward her and gave her a small grin, her eyes a little less closed off.

Azzi smiled back at her and Paige’s hand subtly reached for hers, intertwining their fingers and pulling Azzi a little closer as she went back to watching the game.

Just like that, the chatter picked back up the girls bouncing between kitchen plans, whose playlist sucked less, and whether or not Rae was going to get distracted and burn the garlic bread again. This all happened while Paige stayed sitting next to Azzi, only ever really dialed into the conversation when she was speaking.

…

Later that day when Paige’s family got there, it was immediately chaotic. The door barely swung open before her siblings were barreling in—Lauren asking for food, Drew talking trash to Cam and Ryan almost knocking over Rae trying to race to the living room to play her PS5.

Her dad was behind them, holding a tray of some store bought dessert and his current girlfriend’s hand, already in the middle of a story no one asked for. Her mom came in a few minutes later with a few wine bottles in her hands and a tight smile that said she’d already been sipping on one before she got there.

Paige’s house that was previously filled with a peacefulness that made her chest feel open was now just loud and ringing in her ears. Tipsy laughter, overlapping conversations: Rickea teasing Drew, Rae and Cam loudly debating over the music, DiJonai yelling from the kitchen about Rae almost burning the garlic bread. Azzi was the only one who didn’t make Paige want to disappear.

Paige didn’t say much. She drifted around the edges of the room, slipping between the kitchen and couch and wherever else she could avoid contact. When the adults asked her questions, she gave clipped responses. When her siblings bugged her, she tried to soften for them, but even then her voice stayed flat. She wasn’t mad, she just felt tired causing her to want to disconnect from the chaos.

Still the night was going fine, as fine as Paige could manage until her dad brought up the fight.

“You know,” he said, laughing too loudly over his whisky glass as he tossed a card on the table, “that was probably the most impressive fight I’ve ever seen from you, kid. I mean, everything about it was perfect. The setup, the speed, everything. Never seen anything more beautiful.”

Paige didn’t look up from her hand as she tossed a card down. “Thanks,” she said flatly, not bothering to fake a smile.

“Seriously I mean it, though! You were locked in like you used to be back in the day. We were all watching it on the big screen at—what was it, Sam’s place I think?” he glanced over his shoulder towards his girlfriend for confirmation. “Yeah, yeah, we were all losing our damn minds. All my buddies were blown away.”

Paige shrugged. “Don’t remember much of it.”

Her dad looked surprised at this statement. “How do you not remember something like that?”

She didn’t respond.

He shook his head like he couldn’t accept that and reached for the remote. “You gotta see it. It’s everywhere. Think it has millions of views on YouTube now. Whole crowd was on their feet in the background.”

Paige's hand twitched in her lap before she pressed her nails into her palm. “I’m not tryna watch that right now dad.”

He waved her off like she didn’t say anything at all, already pulling up the video.

The second it lit up the large screen in her living room Paige saw her own face in the corner of the screen. She saw her fists taped, her eyes dark and her shoulders a little stiff. She felt her stomach twist, that same nausea from after the fight creeping in her abdomen and a metallic taste feeling the back of her throat. She couldn’t process the emptiness she saw on her own face.

Paige stood up quietly, taking the cards off her lap and putting them on the table without saying anything before walking out of the room. Tripping slightly over her foot on the way out.

From the kitchen where she was making Paige a drink, Azzi caught movement in the corner of her eye. She walked toward the living room, slightly confused when she heard the voice of a flight announcer yelling through the HD speakers of Paige’s living room.

The video seemed like it rolled in slow motion, showing Paige standing there, flexing her jaw as the ref gave final instructions. Azzi wasn’t listening to the sound coming from the TV, she was watching Paige’s face. Watching the hollowness in her expression, how empty her beautiful blue eyes looked as the camera zoomed in.

Azzi’s grip on the glass she was holding tightened. How did no one else see it? DiJonai, to her credit, looked uneasy. Her arms were crossed as she looked at the screen for a few seconds before she just tore her eyes away and pulled out her phone.

“Where’s Paige?” Azzi asked.

No one looked up, not wanting to miss the fight that just started.

DiJonai answered when she noticed nobody else was going to say anything. “I think she went upstairs.”

Azzi nodded once, pressing her lips together. “Thanks.” She moved to put her drink down on the counter in the kitchen before heading upstairs, the noise of the living room getting quieter.

When she stepped into Paige’s room it was empty but she noticed that the bathroom door was closed and she heard the sound of running water echoing behind it. She walked over and knocked on the door gently.

A tired, “What?” came from the other side.

“It’s me, baby,” Azzi said softly.

There was a pause. Then Paige’s voice came back noticeably softer now: “Come in.”

Azzi opened the door and stepped inside.

Paige was standing at the sink and her face was damp like she’d just splashed water on it in an attempt to steady herself. Her eyes were rimmed with a redness, not quite from crying, but Azzi could tell she was close to it.

Azzi crossed the small space between them moving to weave her fingers into Paige’s hair, coming through the strands gently.

Paige closed her eyes at the feeling as she leaned into it.

“You okay?” Azzi whispered

“No,” Paige said truthfully. Then she added, “I just need a minute though.”

Azzi nodded. “Is there something I can do?”

Instead of answering, Paige reached out and pulled her in by the waist, gently, resting her forehead against Azzi’s for a moment before tilting down and kissing her softly. It was slow, the kind of kiss that silently said thank you even if she didn’t have the words for anything else yet.

Azzi always brought her back. Azzi’s lips, Azzi’s presence, Azzi was just always something steady in the chaos for Paige.

When they pulled away, Paige brushed her thumb over Azzi’s cheek and whispered, “I’m not ready to talk about it right now.”

“Before bed?”

Paige smiled at her and confirmed, “Before bed beautiful.”

Azzi kissed her one more time before giving her one more glance before stepping back. “Don’t stay up here too long, you know I’m clingy”

Paige nodded again as she chuckled, her eyes already softer. “I won’t.”

When Azzi got back downstairs, the fight was still playing on the TV but her eyes landed on DiJonai who was sitting at the island in the kitchen. Azzi made her way over there instead of sitting on the couch, slipping into the stool next to her.

“She good?” DiJonai asked without looking up from her phone.

Azzi nodded lightly. “She’ll be ok.”

DiJonai gave a small nod.

Azzi hesitated for a second, then said, “Thank you…you know, for being there for her when she went to Dallas.”

DiJonai shrugged like it was nothing. “Of course.”

“I know she won’t ever say it,” Azzi said, “but she appreciates you. You’re one of her favorite people.”

DiJonai laughed as she leaned back a little. “I know. She can’t hide it.”

Azzi smiled, shaking her head thinking about Paige. After a moment she asked, “How’d you meet?”

DiJonai’s eyebrows raised in amusement thinking about the story. “She hasn’t told you?”

Azzi shook her head.

DiJonai let out a short laugh. “Okay, so this was Cam’s rookie year, so maybe over three years ago now? We were at this open run at a gym in L.A. Some pros, some overseas girls, just a bunch of random people. Paige was there, sitting on the side. She didn’t say shit the whole time really, was kind of just there watching.”

Azzi nodded as she listened.

“She was just staring and at first I thought she was zoned out, but it lasted for a while and eventually I was like alright she’s definitely starring. So I’m thinking, maybe she feelin’ me or whatever.” DiJonai grinned, shaking her head at herself. “So I walked up to her casually tryna be as nice as possible cause I didn’t know her and I was just like, ‘Hey, I saw you looking but I just wanted to let you know I’m taken.’”

Azzi laughed a little, trying to picture Paige in that moment. “No you didn’t.”

“I swear, I did,” DiJonai laughed. “And Paige was tone-faced as hell and was just like, ‘What?’ She said it super dry. So I say again, ‘You were staring, so I just thought I’d say something,’ and she was like, ‘I definitely wasn’t lookin’ at you.’”

Azzi fully laughed this time.

“It gets better,” DiJonai said, chuckling a little. “I tried to insist like, ‘Nah, you were definitely lookin’ at me.’ And she was like, ‘Promise you I wasn’t. You really not my type sweetheart.’ Then turns her head and went back to watching the run like I wasn’t standing there.”

Azzi covered her mouth, trying not to laugh too loud. “She’s so fucking rude.”

“Right?” DiJonai grinned. “But it was funny and after that, I kinda respected her ’cause she was for real not tryna get with me. Was barely interested in my presence, just wanted to watch basketball and that was rare in L.A.”

DiJonai leaned on her elbows as she continued. “I was in L.A. a lot around that time. Cam was always inviting me to runs, so I started showing up more, hanging out with them after. Paige was super closed off, but we kinda clicked eventually 'cause neither one of us was ever with the bullshit. No fake love.”

Azzi smiled again, her eyes drifting toward the staircase like she could sense Paige near it. “Yeah…that sounds like her.”

“Realest person I’ve ever met,” DiJonai said. Then she added, “She’s prolly the most stubborn too though, so…good luck with that.”

Paige walked in the kitchen, looking a little steadier than she had upstairs. Her hair was slightly damp from where she’d splashed water on her face, but her jaw wasn’t clenched anymore and her shoulders looked looser.

She looked down at Azzi, and said softly, “Talkin’ ’bout me?”

Azzi looked up at her and gave her a small smile before biting her bottom lip slightly to flirt a little. “Always.”

Paige didn’t say anything back just chuckled before walking past both of them and going into the living room. The fight was still on, probably replayed who knows how many times but Paige picked up the remote and turned the TV off, ignoring the protests around her. “Find somethin’ else.”

Azzi who was still sitting at the island smiled even though she couldn’t see Paige.

Paige sat in the corner of the couch, grabbing one of her throw blankets and pulling it over her lap.

The chaos of the house picked up again as they started to entertain themselves now that the fight was off. Her mom started telling a story about one of the AAU mom’s from Ryan’s team while Ryan and Drew immediately turned back on the PS5, Lauren yelling at them to grow up when they argued over who could use the custom controller. Paige sat through it in silence.

Azzi didn’t say anything when she walked in, she just scanned the room until her eyes landed on Paige in the corner of the couch and she made her way over, lowering herself next to her.

Paige adjusted the blanket to cover Azzi’s lap too before shifting to make space for her letting Azzi lean into her side. A loose braid fell across Azzi’s check and Paige reached up to brush it back, her fingers lingering against Azzi’s temple.

“You cold?” Paige asked softly when she noticed Azzi pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.

Azzi shook her head, smiling at her privately. “M’good baby.”

Her voice was quiet, but neither of them realized that the volume in the room dropped completely. Paige’s mom blinked at them mid-sentence, looking at them with a huge grin. Lauren elbowed Ryan, who looked over and finally noticed the moment too, while Drew stared openly.

None of her family had ever seen Paige like this. To them this was the same girl who could barely tolerate a group hug at family holidays. Now she was gently tucking a blanket over someone else, asking her if she was cold and inviting physical touch like she missed it.

Cam smirked from her chair. “Oh, so this is why you forgot about family dinner.”

Her mom, who was still grinning hugely, leaned over to whisper something to Lauren.

“You’re makin’ me look soft,” Paige whispered.

Azzi leaned in, her nose brushing against the curve of Paige’s neck. “Mmm maybe a little, it’s okay though, right?”

Paige turned her head and when she did their faces were so close their foreheads almost touched. Her eyes held Azzi’s for longer than she intended to. A slight tension in each of their stomach’s as she whispered back, “Right.”

Azzi smiled at her answer as she shifted closer into Paige’s side, tuning back into the original conversation like nothing happened.

Even with this small moment with Azzi, since seeing herself on the TV Paige felt off. The noise around her: the laughter, the overlapping stories, the clatter of glasses seemed to blur in her ears. Not quite ringing but muffled, like she had water clogging her eardrum. Because of this her eyes and her mind drifted often, not fixated on anything in particular but certainly not present.

It happened a few times. When her mom asked Azzi about next season. When her dad laughed too loud at something Cam said. When Drew tried to show her something and she just blinked at him like he was speaking another language. Paige was sitting there but parts of her weren’t and Azzi noticed.

The first time she noticed that Paige zoned out, Azzi slid her hand under the blanket and gently tapped her knee twice. Paige blinked a few times, then glanced over, and Azzi gave her a slight smile, silently asking if she was ok. Paige didn’t smile back, but her eyes softened when she looked at Azzi.

When it happened again, Azzi picked up a strawberry off the table and held it in front of Paige’s mouth without saying anything. Paige stared at it for a second, before she parted her lips slowly bitting it from Azzi’s fingers, chewing absentmindedly while Azzi ate the rest of it.

At one point, Paige leaned her head back against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. Azzi let them stay shut for a while but eventually she nudged her shoulder lightly with her own. “You fallin’ asleep on me big head?” she whispered.

Paige didn’t open her eyes, just gave a raspy “No.” But then she cracked a small smile just for Azzi.

Each time Paige drifted off into her own head, or just spaced out all together Azzi brought her back. Paige offering something small each time to show she appreciated it without saying it outright.

Eventually, DiJonai called out that dinner was ready and the group started moving toward the dining room. Paige stood up slowly, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet groan and Azzi just laughed at her before waiting for her to walk to the table.

As everyone began picking seats around the table, Azzi started to slide into the open seat next to Cam, assuming Paige’s mom would want to sit next to her daughter but as she started to lower herself into the chair, she felt a soft grip wrap around her wrist.

Paige tugged her back toward the seat next to her. Azzi glanced at Paige’s mom who just gave her a small smile putting her hand on her shoulder before sitting in the seat next to Cam.

Dinner was filled with inside jokes from the kids and overlapping conversation. One of them tried to explain a TikTok trend to their dad who just kept saying it didn’t make any sense. Rae bragged about how everybody seemed to like the garlic bread this time and Cam tried to say they weren’t that good despite being on her second piece already. It was the perfect mix of warmth and noise.

Paige sat in the middle of it all again, quietly chewing on her food, smiling occasionally, but once again there were moments. Smakk fleeting moments where she just faded out. Her eyes would drift down to her plate and her jaw would tighten briefly before loosening again like she was forcing herself to relax.

Once again Azzi saw it each time. She’d nudge Paige’s foot with her own under the table. Whisper something dumb about how aggressive Cam was using her fork. Point out how Drew was eating like somebody was going to steal his plate. Each small effort drew the corners of Paige’s up, even if it was just for a second.

Azzi knew that seeing the fight was bothering her. Getting her stuck somewhere she didn’t want to be so she just wanted to do small things to keep her present.

But like all dads who can’t help but want to brag about their kids, her dad opened his mouth about the fight again. “You know,” he said mid-chew, wiping his hands on a napkin, “I still don’t get why you’re not more pumped about that fight kid. I mean, it was legendary. How are you not still riding that high? Figured we’d have to pull you out of the gym for dinner.”

Paige pushed a piece of a pepper around her plate with her fork before answering, “Told you. I don’t remember it.”

Her dad laughed, confused on why she kept saying this. “C’mon, how do you not remember a fight like that? You were insane out there. I’ve watched it more times than I can count and it’s only been two weeks.”

“I dissociated so bad I don’t remember it.”

There was a pause as everyone processed the words differently. Some thinking it was a good thing, others finally noticing how messed up she seems about the fight.

Her dad just grinned, eating a bite of his salmon before saying, “Man, that’s a different kind of locked in. That’s next-level. Mind of a killer.”

“Right,” Paige mumbled.

Azzi tried to step in, change the subject a little. “Okay, but can we please talk about how Cam is on her third piece of garlic bread tonight. I vividly remember her saying she’d never eat anything Rae touched.”

Everyone laughed. Well everyone except Paige, who didn’t even look up from her plate and her dad who was still curious about fighting.

Her dad leaned in, waving his fork around. “So what are you thinking for the next one? If it’s anything like that last fight, I gotta be there in person. Can’t afford to miss a show like that.”

Paige’s voice was quiet, almost too soft to hear over the chatter. “I’m takin’ a break.”

He blinked at her. “A break?”

She didn’t bother to elaborate.

“What do you mean?” he asked again, frowning now.

“I mean,” Paige said slower, drier, “I’m takin’ a break. Not fighting.”

Her dad gave a quick scoff, like he was brushing it off. “Come on, kid. What? That was probably the best form you’ve been in since you started. You had that girl out of her league. You got—”

“I just need a break,” Paige cut in, clearly done with the conversation.

There was a brief silence until Ryan, her younger brother, piped up with a grin, trying to lighten the mood but not fully knowing any better with his comment. “She probably just wants more time up under Azzi.”

It was meant to be a joke, but it landed wrong, especially the way he said it.

Paige turned her head toward him and her expression was unreadable. “Watch your mouth, Ryan.”

The grin faded off his face, and he looked down at his plate.

Her dad sighed, clearly still not understanding. “Okay, so how long you thinkin’? Just a few weeks without hitting the gym? A month?”

“I don’t know dad.”

“Well, you better figure it out soon,” he said, voice picking up at the end of each word. “There’s already talk about someone throwing another challenge your way in a few months. Big up and comer. Could be a real headliner if everybody plays their cards right.”

“I’m reigning champ,” Paige replied, not even bothering to look at him. “I’ll be fine saying no to one fight.”

“But you know how this works. Momentum matters. You slow down now, people start talking—”

Paige dropped her fork with a soft clink against the plate and looked up. When she did her eyes looked tired but there was a sharpness to them. “I don’t need you to manage my career, I pay somebody for that.”

That shut him up and no one else spoke after that. The table felt still, suspended in a slight awkwardness for a second until Rickea at the far end changed the subject with a forced laugh and a comment about Rae.

Paige didn’t join in. She reached for her napkin, wiped her mouth before pushing her chair back and getting up from the table. She quietly walked towards the patio doors before slipping into the backyard.

Everyone kept eating like nothing happened, even though the energy had shifted just a little.

Azzi gave her a few minutes, enough time to breathe without an audience; gather herself if she needed to, before she quietly stood up and followed her outside.

When Azzi stepped out the night air was a little brisk so she wrapped her arms around herself before her eyes caught the light coming from the far end of the yard in the gym.

When she stepped inside, Paige’s scent filled the air naturally along with the smell of leather and lavender. Her eyes landed on the cage where she saw Paige lying flat on her back in the middle of it with her eyes fixed on the ceiling like she was trying to find answers in her ceiling.

Azzi walked into the cage quietly and eased herself down next to Paige not saying anything. She just laid there with her, shoulder to shoulder, their bodies naturally aligning like puzzle pieces.

After a moment, Paige reached over and pulled Azzi into her chest and Azzi adjusted herself to fit more comfortably, draping her arm across Paige’s waist and resting her head where she could hear the thump of her heart. It was loud, louder than usual. Like it had something to say to the rest of Paige’s body.

They laid like that, in the stillness of the gym, until Azzi spoke up. “Tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours please.”

Paige exhaled, using her fingers to toying with one of Azzi’s braids, a grounding motion more for herself than anything else. “I just don’t feel fully here right now,” she admitted quietly. “I Can feel myself dissociating and I…I don’t like it. I’ve been fine for two weeks before today.”

“It didn’t start happening until he brought up the fight,” Azzi pointed out, watching her reaction closely.

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I know.” There was a long pause before she continued, her eyes slightly unfocused as she stared past the ceiling. “My body still feels physically sick when I think about it. Like it happened today. Like I’m back there. I have to force myself not to think about it the second I wake up. Every day. Like I’m making a conscious decision to not let it spiral the moment I open my eyes.”

Azzi moved her hand up to the base of her neck, running her fingers through her hair again. “Ohh,” she said with a big grin, trying to lift the weight in Paige’s chest with a joke, “so that’s why you’ve been waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, claiming you’re bored?”

Paige let out a laugh, the first real one of the night. “God forbid I need a little entertainment first thing.”

Azzi playfully rolled her eyes at the excuse before swinging her leg over to straddle Paige’s waist. Paige’s hands went to Azzi’s hips without thinking.

Azzi leaned down, her fingertips moving through Paige’s roots in a calming pattern. “The psychiatrist we found. She’s scheduled to come tomorrow, right?”

Paige nodded, as she closed her eyes. “Yeah.”

“You still good with it?” Azzi asked softly.

“I mean…not excited,” Paige murmured, “but I know I need to talk to somebody. Can’t keep pretending I’m fine.”

Azzi brushed a bit of hair away from her forehead with her thumb. “You don’t have to be ‘fine’ with me all the time. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Paige said, opening her eyes to look down to meet Azzi’s. “It’s the only reason I’m not losing my mind right now.”

Azzi tilted her head up. “That and the fact I’m a phenomenal emotional support girlfriend.”

Paige smirked, squeezing her hips. “Mmm. Top tier, really.”

Azzi leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a soft whisper. “Can’t let you forget it.”

She lingered there, close enough for her breath to tickle Paige’s lips as she smiled at her. Then, gently, she closed the small gap, pressing her lips to Paige’s in a soft kiss. It was filled with the natural affection that started to live in the space they’d carved for each other.

Paige’s hands slid up Azzi’s sides, brushing her thumbs over her ribs as she melted into the softness of Azzi’s lips.

Azzi shifted down, angling her head to deepen the kiss as she caught Paige’s lower lip between hers. Paige’s spine pressed into the floor of the cage as Azzi pressed down further, rolling her hips once to test the waters. Then again when she heard a soft hum at the base of Paige’s throat.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s torso, wanting to be closer to her.

Then a knock on the gym door interrupted the moment.

Paige let her head fall back against the floor with a soft thud as she groaned in frustration.

Azzi immediately swatted her shoulder. “Why would you let your big ass head fall back like that?” She rolled off of Paige with a sigh when all she did was just grinned up at her.

Eventually Paige called out dryly, “Yeah?”

The door creaked open and her dad poppied his head in, looking half-guilty. “We’re gonna head out, kid. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Paige gave him a thumbs up, not bothering to sit up. Her dad gave her a tight smile before pulling the door shut behind him.

The silence barely lasted a heartbeat before Paige was pulling Azzi back toward her, curling her hands around her waist again. Azzi leaned in close, letting their nose brush and Paige’s eyes fluttered closed before she whispered against her lips, “No.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed, and she pouted, “You’re no fun.”

Azzi grinned and gave her a quick peck. “Don’t pout. I’ll make it up to you later I promise.”

Paige grinned widely and she looked so cute it made it hard for Azzi not to give in to her when she said, “Why not now?”

Azzi opened her mouth, ready to answer when the gym doors slammed open with a loud bang.

“Yo stop fuckin!” Rickea’s yelled.

“We knew y’all were hidin’ in here somewhere,” Rae added as they all walked in ready to distract Paige in whatever way she needed.

DiJonai walked in last, shaking her head. “Look at this. Can’t leave y'all alone for five seconds.”

Azzi huffed, sitting up reluctantly mumbling, “That’s why not.”

Paige sighed, letting her head fall back against the mat again, mumbling to herself, “This is why I can't have nice things.”

Rickea squinted at the two of them from the edge of the cage. “Y’all makin’ out in here or having a kumbaya? I can’t tell.”

Paige doesn’t respond, just closes her eyes like she was trying to will the interruption away while Azzi stands up, brushing off her pants.

Cam chimed in not wanting to hear anything about what they were potentially doing as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Paigey, you gotta teach Rae how to throw a punch.”

“No,” Paige said flatly without opening her eyes.

That got the whole group laughing.

“Wait, seriously though, she doesn’t know how to throw one.”

Paige finally cracked her eye’s open, locking eyes with Rae. “You deadass?”

“Unfortunately,” Rae admitted with a small shrug, clearly not proud of it.

Paige exhaled like it physically pained her to get up from where she was. Still she sat up slowly, rolling her neck before stepping out of the cage. “Grab wrap and some gloves,” she mumbled as she made her way toward a bench.

Rickea leaned over to Rae, whispering. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid or Azzi gon’ get you.”

Rae shoved her lightly, laughing under her breath as she walked toward the wall Paige pointed to.

The second Paige sat down at the bench, Azzi followed her and slid in behind her, draping her arms around Paige’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. The move seemed casual, but there was a slight deliberate possession in the decision.

Paige tilted her head back to glance at her. “Wassup?”

Azzi’s lips brushed her ear as she whispered, “Don’t be all touchy.”

Rae walked up holding the wrap and gloves in her hands as she plopped down cross-legged in front of Paige before she could respond. Paige just chuckled at Azzi’s whispered warning.

Without pulling away from the way Azzi was draped over her shoulders and trailing her nails across her neck Paige reached out and grabbed one of Rae’s hands as she started to work the wrap around her knuckles.

“So wait,” Cam said, as she leaned against the wall, “how you a whole D1 athlete and don’t know how to throw a punch Rae?”

“I play basketball, not Mortal Kombat,” Rae answered like it was a stupid question.

Rickea snorted. “Girl, with how you foul, I just assumed you’d be good at it.”

“See, this is why I don’t play defense,” Rae mumbled under her breath.

As Paige silently focused on wrapping Rae’s fingers, Azzi stayed behind her, practically molded to her back. Her hands moved down to casually slide beneath Paige’s sweatshirt, her nails scratching softly at the skin near her waist.

Paige’s movements stuttered briefly, but she didn’t say anything about it.

Azzi leaned in to whisper, “Just making sure you don’t forget I’m here.”

“You’re literally in my spine,” Paige muttered.

“Exactly,” Azzi grinned.

DiJonai walked up, holding up her wrapped hands for Paige to inspect, having learned to do it herself during Paige’s extended stay in Dallas. Paige glanced at them, gave her a quick nod, and DiJonai went back to her corner to put some gloves on.

Paige tightened the wrap as she worked toward Rae’s wrist. Azzi shifted behind her, resting her chin on Paige’s shoulder again and starting to sway them both slightly like she was slow dancing in place.

“Ma’am,” Paige said under her breath, lips twitching to hide her smile. “Please.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Azzi said, her voice quiet for only Paige to hear as she nestled even closer into her neck. “Just supportin’ my girlfriend as she gives out free boxing lessons to other women.”

Paige glanced back at her with a faint grin. “She’s your teammate.”

Azzi only responded with a quiet, “Hm.”

Paige shook her head, finishing the last loop of the wrap around Rae’s hand. “Flex your fingers.”

Rae did as she was told, curling her fingers a few times and Paige gave a nod, jerking her chin toward the light bag.

Rae stood up, cracking her knuckles like she knew what she was doing. “Try not to judge me too hard,” she mumbled as she walked off.

Paige pushed off her knees, about to follow her, but Azzi’s grip around her waist stayed tight, holding her in place. Paige paused, chuckling as she looked over her shoulder. “Wassup, mama?”

Azzi pouted, putting her plump lips on display, as she furrowed her eyebrows like she wasn’t ready to share. Paige chuckled again before angling herself to press a kiss to her lips. Letting it linger for a few seconds.

From the cage, Cam’s exaggerated gagging cut through the moment. “Okay! We get it! Y’all like each other or whatever,” she yelled. “Go touch gloves or touch foreheads just stop doing it in front of me!”

Paige pulled back with a lopsided grin, whispering against Azzi’s lips, “You’n gotta be jealous.”

“I’m not,” Azzi whispered even though she was still holding her waist like she was indeed very jealous.

“Right.” Paige kissed her one more time before standing up and walking over to where Rae stood by the bag.

Rae stood in front of the light bag and her stance was uncertain, fists raised like she’d only ever watched boxing on TV.

“Feet shoulder-width apart,” Paige said, tapping Rae’s ankle with her foot to guide it. “You’re gonna wanna keep one slightly back so you can pivot. Don’t be flat-footed or it’ll take you too long to move.”

Rae adjusted before glancing over her shoulder. “Like this?”

Paige gave a small nod. “Better. Keep your chin tucked and your hands up. Higher.” She stepped closer and lifted Rae’s left wrist. “You’re not waving at nobody. Guard your face.”

She said you look friendly as hell!” Rickea laughed from the bench, stretching her legs out.

“I am friendly,” Rae muttered.

“Yeah, and that’s how you get fucked up,” Paige said. She demonstrated a jab in the air. “Lead with your left then come across with your right.”

Rae attempted to mimic what Paige did. Her form was a little stiff, but passable.

“Not terrible,” Paige said. “Loosen up though. You throwing like you're worried about breaking a nail.”

“Because I am!” Rae shot back, shaking her hand out with a grin.

“Girl,” DiJonai said, as she practiced slow combos against her own bag.

Rae tried again and the second time she was a little more relaxed. Paige stepped in behind her, using her hands to adjust Rae’s shoulders and guiding her hip through the rotation of a punch.

From the bench Azzi narrowed her eyes. She reached next to her on the bench and grabbed a spare wrap, and threw it at Paige. It thumped against her back.

Paige looked over her shoulder. “Really?”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, looking a little dryly at Paige. “You tryna spar or flirt?”

“I’m teaching.”

“You’re teaching real hands-on.”

Paige shook her head before taking a step back.

Rickea snorted. “She got real professional real quick, huh?”

Paige mumbled something under her breath, before turning back towards Rae. “Again. This time, pivot on that back foot. Don’t muscle it, snap it.”

Rae’s next punch landed with a satisfying pop that made Paige miss the sound. Rae blinked in surprise, glancing back at Paige for approval.

“There you go.” Paige gave a short nod. “Do that like ten more times. Then switch sides. Reset your stance each time.”

Rae nodded and turned back to the bag, a little more confident now and Paige backed away, strolling back toward the bench. Azzi was still sitting where Paige left her and she had one hand propping up her chin, watching with an unreadable expression until Paige got closer.

Then Azzi tilted her head up, looking up at her through her lashes. Lashes Paige knew damn well she did not need to bat like that causing her to stop in her tracks.

“Stop,” she said under her breath, tightening her jaw as she stared down at her.

Azzi smirked on purpose. “Stop what?”

Paige exhaled through her nose. “You know what.”

Azzi hummed low in her throat, not moving from her position. “Mmm, no I think you gotta be a little more specific, baby.”

Paige blinked at her, visibly trying to keep her expression neutral, but Azzi just tilted her head a little more to the side, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You just gon’ stand there lookin’ all tense?” Azzi asked softly. “Or you wanna admit I’m in your head a little?”

Paige huffed a laugh through her nose, stepping closer. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Azzi whispered, dropping her gaze to Paige’s mouth before flicking back up. “But I’m not wrong.”

Paige’s hand lifted without thinking, her fingers cradling Azzi’s jaw as her thumb brushed across her cheek, then softly over her bottom lip. The way she was touching her was gentle. Completely contrasting the way Paige was looking at her.

Azzi leaned into it, her smile softening into something more genuine. “You wanna kiss me again, or just admire the view?”

“Trying not to actually,” Paige admitted under her breath.

Azzi held back a grin and said something too low for Paige to catch.

“What?” Paige leaned down instinctively to hear.

Azzi’s smile grew, locking her eyes on hers as she made her voice a little lower and whispered, “I said...you’re going to make me forget my name if you keep lookin’ at me like that, daddy.”

Paige froze and a visible ripple of tension moved through her whole body as her jaw clenched harder this time. She didn’t even look away from Azzi as she said flatly, “I need y’all to come back tomorrow.”

There was a beat of silence as they processed her words, then a chorus of groans erupted across the gym.

“We just started!”

“Nah, you serious?”

“Woww, that’s crazy,” Cam added, dramatically.

Still in the midst of complaining, the rest of them were moving way too slow and dragging their feet. So Paige just muttered “Whatever. Y’all can stay,” as Azzi laced her fingers through hers and tugged her gently toward the house.

DiJonai yells out after them, “Please remember I’m staying in the guest room!” Subtly telling them to not be too loud as everyone went back to what they were doing, deciding not to leave.

[speed-world]

[Chosen Undead Cookie\Y/N AU | Interlude 1]

————————————————————————

“Ohoho how I wish you could see the looks on all the sad, miserable faces of these Cookies. They don’t know what to believe or trust, can’t even tell left from right!! HAHAHAHA!!”

“You could have seen the truth like they all did, but you could not resist going down a pointless path, suffering a fruitless struggle. The beautiful world of white that I wanted is now here…a shame you cannot witness it.”

“So many civilizations…so many wailing, frightened, PATHETIC Cookies! All of them, unidentifiable and lost in the Spice Storms. I’ve never felt more alive, and yet there is something…missing. I don’t have your crumbled dust in these storms, and it’s been ages since we last met. I wonder how broken your soul will be when you see there is nothing to save…”

“My garden has never been so abundant with Cookies! The suffering they’ve endured for so long is long since over! I’ve even had to expand my garden’s space to welcome all the cookies that have come by to live eternally happy! You could be here too; free yourself from your burden and live as you wish! You just need to wake up…”

Wake up…

Wake up…..

WAKE UP!!

Once again, you are here, alive in the Cookie World.

You couldn’t recall how you were struck down previously, but it didn’t matter. You were here, you had a purpose to complete, and if that harrowing vision is remotely true, then you cannot crumble just yet.

But…where were you?

You never remembered an environment like this, and that large tree is new. The longer you stared at it, the more you could sense and feel what was within.

The Five Beasts, all in one place. Why?

….

Someone’s coming—

“It appears you are finally awake, Chosen. This may have been the longest time you’ve been in slumber.”

“…..Who are you, and why do I sense the Beasts all in that one tree?”

“I am Elder Faerie Cookie, guardian of the Silver Tree, where the Beasts are imprisoned.”

“What…?”

“I understand this may be difficult to process, but you have nothing to fear. Ever since your last defeat, I have been guarding this tree with my life, and I continue to do so. But I never would’ve been able to do it alone, you have been the greatest aide in the fall of the Beasts.”

You should be happy hearing this, at least at peace with yourself knowing that the threat of the Beasts were handled. And yet, all you feel is confusion.

Did you fail in the one task you were baked for?

Did the Witches forsake and abandon you, placing your duties in the hands of someone…better?

What are you to do now…?

You were snapped out of your clouded mind when Elder Faerie Cookie gently placed his hands on your shoulders, and spoke to you in the gentlest voice you’ve heard in your lives.

“I know what thoughts are raging in your mind, and I urge you to clear your head for a moment and listen. You have not failed in your duty in anyway. The Witches never lost faith in you to save the Cookie World from their own creations. But time was running out, and the lives of millions of dessertians were being cut short at a near unstoppable pace. The Witches themselves came together and tried once more to seal the destructive Beasts, and it finally worked.”

You sat down and took in everything that he said to you. It was still difficult to accept everything like this, but there wasn’t much else you could do.

Actually, that realization was beginning to fully dawn on you: with the Beasts taken care of, what purpose did you now have?

“Well, you have several choices, it is ultimately your life to live after all. If you still feel bound to your duty with the Beasts, you may help me guard the tree. Or, you may find a new purpose for yourself, and live your own life just as all other Cookies do.”

With this presented to you, you stood up and took a deep breath, before responding to Elder Faerie Cookie with…

[sanguinepanther]

I don't remember where I came across it, but I read an article where someone posed an additional term: Neuroconforming

because you can have people who do not naturally fit the neurotypical norm (which is the case for everyone) but instead they do what they can to *make themselves conform* to the neurotypical norm, as if that is both an achievable and worthwhile goal.

these people have internalized ableism in such a strong way, and can project those expectations (that they have form themselves) onto others without those people's consent.

I run into this with my ADHD/AuDHD family members all the time, especially my brother whose special interest is people and the processing he's able to do socially is outside of my abilities, but he's chosen not to have a meaningful relationship with me after I said I literally couldn't predict all the ways someone could possibly misinterpret what I say (not just confuse ~ because of their insecurities create a whole new meaning) and thus change how I talk to make that misinterpreting impossible to happen.

He told me to do this as if it was a normal thing to do in relationships.

It's *exhausting* to even contemplate doing that in every interaction I have

fuck that noise

I think being autistic has made me realize how extremely hostile the environments we have designed are. And I don't mean "this environment is uniquely hostile to me because I am autistic" I mean that even normies are just existing in brutal, stagnant spaces, they have just internalized them as normal. We could have it all, we could live in such a beautiful and fascinating world, designed by humans and for humans who actually enjoy life and it's complexity and wonder. but even now it's like, seen as kinda hippy-dippy bullshit to have "excessive" indoor plants in a workspace or something

[loop-lover-central]

Not enough people talk about how all of the isat cast have some sort of parent issues.

Isabeau had a large family and was probably overlooked a lot. He dreamed of becoming someone that everyone would love pay attention to. He acts like a loud, boisterous, jokester and thinks that people are ashamed of knowing him from the get go. Middle child+gifted child that burned out to the MAX.

Mirabelle's parents most likely just did not understand her. And while they all love each other there's a huge disconnect between them and her (probably because of Mirabelle's struggles with amatonormativity). This is probably also why she thinks so highly of the head housemaiden and Odile tbh. Not maternal figures for Mira but more "Older women who (seem to) have themselves figured out and know what they want".

Bonnie's parents were literally just abusive. Like there's no beating around the bush with this one. It was so bad that Nille has obvious PTSD and ran away from home with Bonnie before Bonnie could remember them well, so like 5 tops. So if Bonnie is like 12-ish in game and Petronille is around Mira's age, which is early twenties, Nille ran away when she was like 15-ish probably.

Odile has such a complicated and deep parental issue that she still is feeling the ramifications of it into her late adulthood. She hates the absence of her mother. All the gaps that she left behind in her life. And while she loved her father deeply all the way until he died, there was probably some complicated slight resentment there. Because sometimes when you hate one of your parents you end up being mad at both of them because "why the fuck did you put me in this position".

Siffrin's parents just got Thanos snapped. And there's nothing he can do about that. He has to live with the absence always lingering just on the edge of his mind but disappearing as soon as they focus on it. And for an extra layer of Misery Loop has this same exact problem but WORSE because they literally erased their entire fucking timeline on top of that. And while Siffrin losing his parents was NOT his fault, Loop snuffing out an entire timeline and hitting the reset button is literally directly because they wished to never be alone again, stuck themselves in a time loop, and got so miserable and desperate they decided in a split moment that any price would be worth it.

Average queer friend group honestly.

[dunmeshistash]

Does Hien have romantic feelings for Shuro, or was she just shocked that he fell in love w Falin ??? (Or maybe she was shocked by Falin’s beauty hahshdsh /jjj)

Whether she had romantic feelings for Shuro or not is up for interpretation (I personally don't think she did), what she says is that she expected them to end up that way because she saw his Father and Maizuru having that kind of relationship

She was shocked because he fell in love with someone else instead when she was sure he would fall for her lmao, like a shock to her ego I imagine. So not necessarily shocked he fell for Falin but shocked he fell for someone else.

Personal thoughts under the cut

How I see it is more that observing what was happening around her she expected that would also be her role (love interest to the head of the family who doesn't get married to them) not because she wanted to be but because that's what she was seeing happening from a young age. Hien also sees herself as beautiful and desirable (she is correct) so she also thought obviously Shuro would fall for her like his father fell for Maizuru.

Realizing Shuro fell for someone else was shocking to her cause 1-What she thought would happen wont 2-Shuro wasn't interested in her even tho she's so hot 😔

Also Hien and Shuro were childhood friends! That's yet another reason why Hien might have imagined they would end up in a close relationship without necessarily being interested in him that way

"Since her parents serve the Nakamoto family, she and Shuro have known each other for as long as they can remember. However, since they are a servant and the son of the family head respectively, they keep a certain distance between themselves now that they're adults."

[griffongrey]

I understand your frustration re: lack of integration with previous worldbuilding, and I even agree with parts of it… but tbh i feel like a lot of these specific examples were explained within the games.

I agree, I wanna see a varterral again. Though, I'm not sure I agree with the implication that the varterrals already being in the lore is incompatible with having magical robot guardians in Veilguard. Especially considering we also got those freaky fade-touched plant monsters, which feel very much like lower-level, non-boss-battle versions of the varterrals, at least to me. After all, varterrals are described as "spirits born of wood and stone and air". Still would have been cool to see an actual varterral as an area boss.

Still doing their thing, I imagine. But the merchant houses have never been the focus of Antivan plot-lines in the games, so I don't see how this is an issue for Veilguard? It's always been about the Crows. The closest we got to focusing on the merchant houses was with Josie's companion quest in Inquisition, and even that was more about the Orlesian end of the issue, for obvious logistical reasons. I do have my issues with the way the Crows are written in Veilguard, but can you honestly say, given everything we learned about them in the previous games, that something like "the Crows rule Antiva" is not a) an extremely in-character claim for an Antivan Crow to make, and b) arguably accurate from their perspective, considering their power and influence over Antivan politics?

The Lighthouse exists to be a safe haven for refugees in the war against the Evanuris and to be a base of operations for Solas' rebellion, as stated in multiple codex entries. Solas has been using it as his secret base leading up to Veilguard, because he can't use Skyhold now that everyone knows about it. How is it contradictory for Solas to have had multiple fortresses for multiple purposes? I seem to recall the Inquisitor capturing plenty of keeps and installing soldiers in them during Inquisition.

Forgive me if I've missed something, but I don't remember anything that said Emmrich was never part of a Circle?

I agree, the Lords as a whole are kind of a mess. I think there's a Codex entry or missive or something somewhere that mentions what the Felicisima Armada are up to, but... yeah. It's a mess. Could you clarify what you mean by Taash and Shathaan's timeline conflicting with Kirkwall's? I'm not disagreeing, I just didn't pick up on any discrepancy here, so I'm not sure what specifically you're referring to.

The titan in the Descent dlc being awake and moving was a highly unusual outlier, which I feel was made fairly clear by everyone — even the dwarves from Orzammar — being extremely confused by how weird and unprecedented it all was. Because of what we saw Solas and Mythal did in the regret murals, the other titans — at least, this was my understanding of things — are either dead or dormant, like a volcano. Harding connecting with the titans when she came in contact with the lyrium dagger was what "woke up" the one in her personal quests. As with a lot of questions about the titans, though... we don't really know the answers, because the dwarves themselves don't know the answers. Hence, Harding's frustration when she tried to research them. I wouldn't call that bad worldbuilding; I'd just call that an intentional mystery.

I do think one of the things that made me saddest about Veilguard was the sheer lack of continuity. And I'm not even talking about worldstates.

Where are the Varterral? Why is Arlathan forest guarded by magical robots instead?

Where are the merchant princes of Antiva? You know, the people who really run Antiva? Not the king, not the Crows?

Why does the Lighthouse exist? Wasn't it implied in the last game that Skyhold was Solas’s fortress? The place where the sky is held back?

Why was Emmrich never a member of a Circle? Why have we forgotten that Nevarra had Circles (although presumably those who managed to become Mortalitasi had much greater freedom than mages elsewhere, they would presumably also all be Harrowed mages from the Circles in Nevarra originally)? Why have we forgotten that Cumberland was home to the College of Enchanters?

Where is the Felicisima Armada? That Isabela was part of? Why does the timeline of Taash's storyline and their mother's work with the Lords clash completely with the Kirkwall timeline?

What do you mean, the Titans are done? Then what was going on with the Titan in the Descent? The one that woke up and started moving around and got soothed by reconnecting itself with Valta? It seems like that Titan was very much alive and well, where are the others? Given that lyrium is alive and the Titan's blood, I can only assume that anyplace where you have actively growing lyrium, you have a living Titan? Why can't the dwarves reconnect with them?

A lot of these are little things...but they all add up. This, combined with the fact that quite a lot of the characters don't seem particularly integrated into the world of Thedas either...

[creatingblackcharacters]

sinners & m17 anon here; we're all white, so yes. and i do not think i know the mythology(?)/history behind vampires, at least in the context of sinners, either! but i did at least catch the obvious metaphor, and the cross-cultural references especially with the main villain being irish yet siding with klansmen to prey upon a Black man... and so on. they caught that part, it's just the vampires bit that threw them off.

btw, i saw someone running a fan blog for the main villain. like, what? i can't even fathom that. i don't even remember that man's name. how do you watch that movie and come away thinking "i need to make a blog dedicated to the racist irish vampire" 😭 baffling

Okay yeah so you probably didn't get it fully either 😅 Sinners spoilers!

The way the vampires were explained in that it's another form of suffering. It's similar to the idea of a Haitian zombie; in that zombies and vampires aren't just things to fear themselves, but that the state of Being Trapped As One is infinitely more horrifying. That is, when you turn into a Vampire, that's spiritual suicide. Soul Eradication. You're Undead, and you're Done. No connection to your ancestors, your culture, or your afterlife. It's why Annie asked Smoke to do what he did.

Yes the vampires represented racist colonizers, but they also physically represented the parasitism that comes with loss of the Self and the Culture. They physically represented what assimilation into whiteness requires- the Death of the Individual to become a part of the Whole. By forcefully turning others into vampires, Remmick wasn't just stealing their lives- he was stealing their souls. That bit where Sammie connected the spirits of the ages? They won't get to have that!

Yeah, when it comes to your friend group, I'd definitely watch some videos into Annie and her practice of Hoodoo, the knowledge of which was necessary to understand a lot of why the vampires were so frightening from a... Cultural standpoint. It didn't just turn into Blade; there was still storytelling!

[onaswife]

https://www.tumblr.com/onaswife/785460957763747840/ive-been-seeing-a-lot-of-videos-in-tiktok-and?source=share

share them thoughts 🙂‍↕️

I made blurbs of both Alexias, I don't know if you'd like to know more. For now, these are the ideas I developed best.

Warning: Mention of miscarriage

The first time Omega! Alexia met Irene's little son, she was struck by the famous "Baby Fever."

You still remember how bright her eyes looked as Lucía showed her how to hold a baby properly without hurting or making him uncomfortable. Never, at least not since you two had started having a serious relationship, had you talked about having children.

That day when you got home, Alexia couldn't stop talking about this new experience, about feeling how the little one seemed to snuggle up against her chest, something that made her feel full. You, on the other hand, couldn't stop thinking about how radiant Alexia looked with a baby in her arms. You'd always thought Alexia was a person who radiated energy, perhaps not so much on the pitch when she should have been a more serious person, or when she was in "media day" mode, but when she was at home with her mom and sister, or when she went to visit the girls from her foundation, even when she scolded the younger members of the team for listening to Mapi and doing something mean, Alexia would look like the most beautiful and radiant person in the room.

That day you didn't talk about expanding the family; ypu only talked about Irene's little one.

The months began to pass. Mateo, Irene's son, was already older, beginning to say his first words, and could already babble something close to "mama" and "mami." Meanwhile, Alexia had one mission in mind: to get Mateo to say "Tia" or at least "Ale."

When it was their turn to babysit (on Alexia's whim, disguised as the older couple needing to have time for themselves), she would try to get him to mumble something as close to "Tía" as possible. Every time he mumbled something with a tone resembling that word, Alexia would begin to congratulate him while holding him tightly to her chest and praising him for being so intelligent.

You always stayed more distant, not because you hated being around the boy or anything like that, but because you'd never been able to figure out how to connect with little kids. You always stood there, not knowing what to do while looking anywhere but at the boy, trying to find help. But while you stood like that, you could look at your girlfriend, who seemed more and more accustomed to being maternal, giving you future ideas of what she would be like with your children, without having to be sad about them having to go with their real parents; they would be hers.

Gradually, every time Mateo accompanied his mother to training, or when they took him to watch the finals, he always looked for Alexia first. Which is why it seemed rather strange to you when Irene approached you with the little boy in her arms, while he screamed your name and tried to get away from his mother's arms. As soon as Irene stood in front of you, the boy stopped moving and stretched his short arms toward you.

It was at that moment, when Mateo looked for you first, that the baby fever hit you the hardest.

Neither of you said anything, neither of you wanted to have the conversation.

It was like that until you saw Alexia start flushing all the birth control pills down the toilet, and you knew the next step in the relationship was closer than you'd thought.

There was a long talk about the future. You tried to get Alexia to remember why she had decided not to be a mother yet—she was in the prime of her career, having just won the Ballon d'Or and being the face of the Spanish national team—but Alexia kept countering her arguments based on her experience with her teammate's child.

From that day on, you had both agreed to no longer use protection, you wouldn't force children, but Alexia really wanted to get pregnant. Whenever you two had sex (which was quite often, it was hard to keep your hands off her body), Alexia made sure that when it was time for you to finish, you wouldn't pull out until she was sure you could. So for the next eight minutes, you were on top of your girlfriend's sweaty body while her legs tightly hugged your body, leaving you with no way to move.

It was in the midst of recovering from her ACL that the pregnancy test finally came back positive. You both were both now proud mothers to little Mar. Mar Putellas.

On the other hand alpha! Alexia would be more scared. She loves children, and she had that instinct, being Alba's older sister. From the moment they met and talked about having children, they had both agreed that they weren't ready for them.

That remained the case until your older brother had his first daughter, and you automatically made her your spoiled niece (the only one).

You lived and breathed for that little girl. She looked a lot like you did when you were a baby, something your mother and brother emphasized when you and Alexia visited them.

Alexia and you had a tacit agreement about using condoms when being intimate. You both got tested for sexually transmitted infections every two months, and obviously neither of you had any other sexual partners, so it hadn't been a problem.

Until it was.

You got pregnant.

None of you expected it. That night there was a big argument. Alexia left, slamming the door as you cried in the bathroom stall, no longer knowing what to feel.

The following week was a cold one. You didn't speak to Alexia, you didn't look at her, you had started sleeping in the guest room and always avoided seeing her in the mornings and at night.

It was like this for about two weeks, until Alexia stopped being a coward and spoke to you seriously. While it was something neither of you had planned, it was something you had both done, and therefore, you would both have to take responsibility. As soon as you heard those words, you couldn't help but feel worse; you felt like Alexia was forcing herself to take charge.

Time began to pass; Alexia seemed to change. And just as Alexia changed, so did your pregnancy. At week 11, you began to feel strange; even Alexia commented on your lack of milky smell. That day, you both suffered and cried knowing your little one would no longer be with you.

The following weeks were hell for both of you, a personal hell.

Time passed, the wound healed as best it could. A year and a half after that fateful day, the test came back positive again.

This time, Alexia didn't get angry, of course not. She cried. She cried next to you as she looked at the pregnancy test on the sink.

Alexia pampered you throughout your pregnancy. She didn't mind canceling interviews so she could get treatment for the back pain you were having. She didn't mind getting up at 2 in the morning and having to get up in 4 more hours to go buy your midnight snack. She didn't mind carrying you every time you went out and your feet started to hurt. She watched videos on social media to help you. When your bump had grown enough to slow you down and cause more back pain, she started standing behind you and bringing her hands to your lower abdomen, where she would put her hands together and take some of the weight, making you feel less heavy and allowing you to rest a little. Or when you were going for a walk on the beach and you couldn't lie face down, she remembered seeing a video where they dug a hole in the sand big enough to fit your bump comfortably so you could rest. Alexia might be able to take her heart out if you asked her to. She wouldn't make the same mistake as in the past again, and she wouldn't let it end the same way either.

The day her son was born, Alexia felt her chest fill with happiness as she saw him in your arms as he lay resting. Even as you watched her be happy with your son, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if your first baby had been born. You still had nightmares about that event.

She cried again, seeing how her family had grown, now determined never to be separated from her son or from you again.

Whenever you went out, both Elias and you reeked of Alexia's scent; it was her way of being present.

Over time, little Elias had grown up with the same passion that Alexia's father had passed on to her. Both Barcelona fans, they breathed and died for their colors.

[smcubed22]

LOOKS SO FUN and I am procrastinating the APM chapter I owe oops. I did it for both Red (Anything Past Midnight a Durge/Wyll series) and Tav (A Guide to VERY HUMANOID for Dunces a Tav/Astarion series).

1. Is your OC a confident speaker?  Do they find it easy to express themselves verbally?  Or do they stutter or perhaps easily lose their train of thought?

Red - He’s definitely never held his words back, even when people wish he would. I think he’s allergic to staying on the same train of thought for an entire conversation, however.

Tav - Tav might not have been very good at Common, but he certainly never hesitated to muddle his way through a conversation. He doesn’t find it easy but greatly enjoys connecting with others in this way.

2. Does your OC use any expressions or slang terms that are unique to the area in which they grew up, or a specific community of which they were once a member?

Red - Most definitely uses more than his fair share of expressions. Most of them didn’t come from anywhere but that mad little head of his. But some of his speech patterns are relics of his old life as a Bhaalian priest.

Tav - For sure, he’s slipped into saying things a bit roundabout (calling moods/expressions “songs” and referring to death as “the waiting”) but has tried to be SUPER NORMAL and VERY HUMANOID please and thank you. He’s so good at this (he isn’t).

3. How often does your OC swear?  Is it something that punctuates their everyday speech?  Or is it so unusual to hear them use "bad" language that it would shock those around them?

Red - Could be rated NC-17 for language alone.

Tav - Tends to pull words from the people around him. He doesn’t curse frequently but an “oh hells” wouldn’t be shocking.

4. Does your OC have a particular accent?  Do other people ever judge or stereotype them on the basis of their accent?  How do they feel about this?

Red - Unless you have him thoughtful or listening, his words come out like they’re being chased. People have definitely assumed he’s half mad and stopped listening. This does frustrate him.

Tav - Sings his words when he’s not thinking carefully about it. He also is far too loud when he forgets he’s meant to speak more quietly. Between that and his broken/learning common, a few in the beginning took him for an idiot. He doesn’t mind -- he agrees with them.

5. Can other people recognise when your OC is angry or serious by the tone of their voice?  Or does their language become coarser?  Or perhaps more formal?

Red - Mentions of innards go up by like 120%.

Tav - Speaks more slowly with the full volume of his voice. Where it was musical before, something about it is highly abrasive on the ear now.

6. Does your OC show courtesy in their language around others - do they routinely thank others, or do they only do so if they perceive that person as being of a higher social status?

Red - Is learning to become super polite and courteous fuck you who said that he isn’t???? (No)

Tav - Thanks people often and is still working on what NOT to thank people for.

7. Has your OC much experience of public speaking or any formal training in rhetoric?  Do they find such things easy or intimidatingly difficult?

Red - Definitely led his share of cult ceremonies that he doesn’t remember.

Tav - No formal training but charisma and extroversion covers a lot of gaps.

8. Did your OC's parents or other caregivers use any specific terms of endearment for them as a child?  Do (or would) they use similar terms for their own children?

Red - “Mutt” doesn’t count Red, let’s just go with no.

Tav - Nope. Was just child, unless there was a need to specify among the children.

9. Does your OC consider their voice particularly "sexy"? Do they try to adopt a more seductive tone in romantic situations?  How successful are these efforts?

Red - He doesn’t consider his voice sexy (Wyll disagrees, he loves the rasp in it) and doesn’t change his tone. Though he might be more careful to speak privately.

Tav - He doesn’t consider his voice sexy (Astarion says it has its charms) and doesn’t TRY to adopt a more seductive tone but can’t quite manage to keep arousal out of his voice when it happens and he wants it.

10. Does your OC often punctuate their speech with filler sounds, such as "um" or "er"?  Or words such as "like" or "you know"?

Red - Oh absolutely. His speech pattern is full of pepper.

Tav - Some of this yes, but is more likely to pause and think.

11. Has your OC ever made a conscious effort to change their voice?  Perhaps by trying to rid themselves of a particular accent or making themselves sound more assertive?

Red - When disguised selfed in Chapter 20/21 of APM. It did not go well XD

Tav - Worked very, very hard to adjust his accent as soon as possible. Also worked very hard to adjust the volume of his voice, as his home language is very loud.

12. Are there any particular words that make your OC cringe?  Is this due to negative associations?  Or second-hand embarrassment?  Do they try to conceal their dislike?

Red - Disgusting, due to negative association. Also if Mizora dares to call Wyll pet one more time he’s gonna do a whole lot more than cringe. The first he tries to conceal his dislike, the second he does not.

Tav - Mercy, for reasons that will hurt everyone.

13. Is your OC talented at creative writing, whether poetry or prose?  Would they ever show their work to anyone else?

Red - No. Though Wyll certainly thinks his expression is creative.

Tav - I’m publishing his journal as we speak XD I would not call it poetry or prose, but the tadfools are having fun correcting him.

14. Are there any concepts or activities which are taboo in your OC's culture of origin, which they prefer to refer to euphemistically?  How do the respond to others who do not share these taboos?

Red - Not that I can think of. 

Tav - Nothing that I can think of that would be referred to euphemistically.

15. What is your OC's favourite or "go-to" swearword when under duress?

Red - Depends on what villain’s monologue he’s most recently poached. Though he’s fond of CUCK.

Tav -  Was definitely mispronouncing Tsk’va for awhile there. Now probably “hells”

16. Does your OC's body language sometimes give away what they might prefer to conceal?  Or are they practiced at ensuring that their physical presentation matches their stated positions?

Red - His body language absolutely gives him away. Anxiously pulling at Wyll’s clothes fools no one.

Tav - Has gotten far better at it, though his calm is certainly sometimes “too calm.”

17. Has your OC ever found other people struggle to understand them because of their accent?  How did this make them feel?  Did they resent the listeners?  Or feel bad about themselves?  Or both?

Red - Doesn’t have an accent but has definitely been misunderstood for other reasons and either resented it or thought it was funny.

Tav - Yes. He would patiently try to work it out with them in as many ways as he could phrase something, using gestures. I think he’d feel a bit defeated if he had to pull a companion over to help him.

18. How does your OC feel about other people with "posh" or "upper-class" accents?  Do they feel a natural deference to them?  Or a resentment?  Or do they not even notice?

Red - Hot.

Tav - Admiration. Words, like people, are so lovely no matter their shape.

19. To what degree does your OC amend their language and/or tone when speaking to children (or in front of them).

Red - Does not.

Tav - Is extra careful to speak more quietly and often crouches so he’s not looming down on them with a big voice.

20. Does your OC ever use technical or academic language when discussing their specialist interests?  Do others ever need them to translate these terms?

Red - No, though he definitely has his own weird shortspeak that very few understand

Tav - No

21. Does your OC like to ascribe nicknames or pet names to other people?  How well does this usually go down?

Red - Yes. Not very well lol.

Tav - No, names are very important.

22. What is your OC's singing voice like?  Does it surprise other people by being better (or worse) than they expected?

Red - Eerie, but not bad sounding. When he drags his words out in song they sound up to no good. The kind of whispery rasp a thirsty sailor would use to sing of a ghost ship.

Tav - Surprisingly beautiful and chorally, and not quite as deep as you think it would be for his size.

23. How confident is your OC at writing?  Do they regularly write letters or even academic papers?  Or is their writing stilted, awkward - or even a source of embarrassment to them?

Red - Doesn’t write much but can. His handwriting is a spidery scrawl and he would probably stop halfway through writing to draw something deeply disturbing instead.

Tav - Is working very hard in VERY HUMANOID: The Journal to become better at writing a quest journal. :) 

24. How does your OC's voice change when they are trying to persuade someone else to let them have their own way?  Is this particularly persuasive?  Perhaps only to certain people?

Red - Please please please please /poke poke poke poke. Come on, it'll be fun! It is not particularly persuasive. Wyll does have a hard time saying no to his smile.

Tav - His persuasion efforts have an increasingly subtle lilt as the game goes on. He is *very* persuasive.

25. Has anyone ever mocked or made fun of your OC's accent or the words they use?  What was the impact of this upon them?

Red - Is the bully mocking every villain in Faerun for their word choices and life choices.

Tav - Probably did not notice. Astarion stole from them.

26. What kind of compliments might your OC bestow upon another person?  Elegant flattery?  Crude sexual banter?  Measured, but positive feedback?

Red - Confusing and intense ones that might require some parsing and questioning to fully understand.

Tav - Direct compliments, simple in form and warm in intent.

27. Does your OC ever use deliberately offensive or abusive terms towards particular social or cultural groups?

Red - Monologuers! *shakes his fist* He’s also not fond of Wulbren so the Ironpans get some remarks.

28. How easy does your OC find it to say "no"?  Do they prefer to prevaricate?  Is this out of courtesy?  Or from a fear of rejection?

Red - If it’s someone he doesn’t care about, no is easy. If it’s someone he cares about, no is next to impossible. (If he’s not useful he’s useless, mentality.) Wyll is working on that.

Tav - Will do his utmost to make everyone happy but will say no if he needs to, especially if it’s to protect someone else.

29. Are there any words or terms that your OC finds particularly offensive?  Is this unique to their own experiences or something on which most people would agree?

Red - He didn’t much like “your kind” in reference to Bhaalspawn. Because his kind is who he chooses dammit! He says everyone agrees that everything that comes out of Mizora’s mouth is offensive.

Tav - He’s difficult to offend, but he would take offense to anyone belittling a group senselessly. He very much doesn’t like being referred to as “child.”

30. Is your OC particularly vocal during sex?  Do they tend to use actual words or even full sentences?  Or just noises?  How much control do they have over this? Red - You can’t stop him from yapping unless his mouth is otherwise full. This gets very disjointed when he’s pushed along in pleasure. Toward the end he might not even be sure of what he’s even saying.

Tav - Is loud, but it’s more noises than comprehensible words. Not much control at all.

31. How often does your OC raise their voice?  Is this always deliberate or can they sometimes not help it?

Red - All the time, he’s a little firecracker. Sometimes it’s deliberate, sometimes he’s just annoyed.

Tav - His voice is very loud by default and takes great effort to keep quiet.

32. Does your OC ever make idle threats?  Or do they only state very precisely exactly what the consequences will be?

Red - Every day. But he’s also ready to do it >D

Tav - No, will do what he says.

33. How long are the sentences your OC usually uses in conversation?  Do they tend to communicate in brief, or even terse, pieces of dialogue?  Or are they prone to flowery language - or even outright verbosity?

Red - Who’s that guy Brief?

Tav - Is usually briefer with longer pauses trying to figure out how to say what he wants.

34. Does your OC yell or scream during arguments?  Or do they become quiet and withdrawn?

Red - Bold that you would think I need a reason to yell.

Tav - Depends on the argument. He might lose control over the volume of his voice, but if he cared about a person, he wouldn’t be screaming at them necessarily.

35. Does your OC ever talk to themselves?  How aware of this are they?

Red - Yes, sometimes he’s aware.

Tav - Not to himself, but you never know which rock might actually be a wizard, okay?

36. What is your OC's laugh like?  Is it a genteel titter? A hearty belly laugh?  Or a snorting noise like a constipated donkey?

Red - It comes in two flavors - giggling and cackling.

Tav - Booming and warm, or a pleasant chuckle.

37. How wide is your OC's vocabulary?  Do others consider them eloquent or well-read?

Red - Wide enough to commit crimes. No and no, though Wyll claims he does have a certain way about putting things into perspective sometimes.

Tav - Widening rapidly, as he loves to learn and chat and has been trying to find the words that Astarion uses in various books. Gale has informed him that Jake’s Encyclopedia of Eels is not, in fact, a dictionary.

38. If confronted by someone who cannot - or will not - speak how would your OC respond?  If they cannot - or will not - speak themselves then how do others respond to this?  How do they make themselves understood?

Context would make a very big difference on this one, but I will try.

Red - Would watch their expression carefully to try and intuit their deal.

Tav - Would watch for their gestures or any other clues around to figure it out, if this person is attempting to communicate something.

39. Is your OC particularly loud in combat?  Do they yell?  Roar?  Or are they a silent and deadly presence? 

Red - Forever living the struggle of NEEDING to run your mouth but also LURKING.

Tav - Is loud in existing, clank clank clank. Other than battle communications though, doesn’t actually say much. A two handed maul with divine smite kind of speaks for itself.

40. Does your OC challenge others for perceived discourtesies?  Or are they unwilling or unmotivated to cause a scene?

Red - Would challenge god for 1 corn chip, chihuahua energy. WYLL SAID NO PICKLES energy.

Tav - Doesn’t care if you aren’t courteous to him, but don’t you go treating any of his companions disrespectfully.

41. Does your OC ever wish that their voice was different?  Are they ever embarrassed or ashamed of their accent or the volume of their voice?

Red - Wonders what he would sound like if Kressa didn’t rearrange him sometimes.

Tav - Wishes he could speak more quietly more easily.

42. Does your OC find any particular voices or accents especially alluring or stimulating?

Red - Loves Wyll’s voice, especially when he’s telling a story

Tav - Enamored with how emotive Astarion’s speech is

43. How often does your OC add new words to their vocabulary?  Do they hungrily pick up new terms and words?  Or do they struggle to remember such things?

Red - Will find a new word and repeat it until everyone is sick of hearing it.

Tav - Hungrily picking up the terms he needs to communicate with these lovely people of Faerun.

44. How eloquent is your OC?  Is their use of language beautiful, or at least skillful?  Or do they struggle to communicate without sounding clumsy or awkward?

Red - …I don’t know if eloquent is the word. Or beautiful. Skillful maybe? His communication is definitely creative.

Tav - Isn’t skillful or eloquent, but has a nice voice and speaks without reservation, even if his words are imperfect. His speech itself is clumsy but his delivery makes up for it.

45. Does your OC ever change their language or tone when moving between different cultures or social settings?

Red - May have started getting a little rhymier at the gate. And I think he’s caught a little of Wyll’s poetic vibe.

Tav - Definitely struggles to code switch in Oath, resulting in his voice being songier and expressing his emotion in tone rather than words.

46. What (if any) are your OC's go to "polite" expressions of disappointment or frustration?  Do they ever substitute words like "sugar" or "darn" for stronger language?  Under what circumstances might they do this?

Red - I tell them I’m polite and then I tell them to fuck off.

Tav - Sakvah :< 

47. Does your OC find it easy to talk about sexual activities or bodily parts?  Or can they only speak about them using twee euphemisms or obscure slang terms?  Or can they not speak about them at all?

Red - The things that come out of this elf’s mouth would make a sailor jump in the harbor.

Tav - Tends to be pretty direct and sees no particular reason to be embarrassed.

48. What would be the most offensive word or term to use about your OC?  How would they respond to this being used towards them?  Would it matter what the intent or understanding of the person using it might be?

Red - “Disgusting.” Might throw him into some mind skippies. He would either say I’M NOT or kind of shrink a little, depending on how he’s doing.

Tav - “Child.” If it was someone he felt he could talk to, he would correct them. He would not like it no matter the intent.

49. Was your OC quick to learn how to speak as a child?  Was their grasp of language encouraged by those around them?  Did anyone read with them?  Or recite poetry or stories to them?

Red - Was never quite a child, and his grasp on most things occurred under threat.

Tav - Learned about at the same pace as the other children in the facility, perhaps a little more slowly. The caregivers did read to them and tell them stories about the Heroes of Avernus and that they might someday join them.

50. Does your OC ever revert to baser, perhaps even coarser, ways of speaking when under stress or anxiety?  Or are they consistently poised and self-controlled, no matter how difficult the situation?

Red - Has been known to growl and threaten. Maybe talk about intestinal jump rope. If he’s very far gone, he might go into a sort of blank minded repetition.

Tav - Is very cool under stress, though he might slow his speech to properly think about his words. Though he does startle easily and might slip a little if you sneak up on him.

OC Language and Vernacular Questions.

Is your OC a confident speaker? Do they find it easy to express themselves verbally? Or do they stutter or perhaps easily lose their train of thought?

Does your OC use any expressions or slang terms that are unique to the area in which they grew up, or a specific community of which they were once a member?

How often does your OC swear? Is it something that punctuates their everday speech? Or is it so unusual to hear them use "bad" language that it would shock those around them?

Does your OC have a particular accent? Do other people ever judge or stereotype them on the basis of their accent? How do they feel about this?

Can other people recognise when your OC is angry or serious by the tone of their voice? Or does their language become coarser? Or perhaps more formal?

Does your OC show courtesy in their language around others - do they routinely thank others, or do they only do so if they percieve that person as being of a higher social status?

Has your OC much experience of public speaking or any formal training in rhetoric? Do they find such things easy or intimidatingly difficult?

Did your OC's parents or other caregivers use any specific terms of endearment for them as a child? Do (or would) they use similar terms for their own children?

Does your OC consider their voice particularly "sexy"? Do they try to adopt a more seductive tone in romantic situations? How successful are these efforts?

Does your OC often punctuate their speech with filler sounds, such as "um" or "er"? Or words such as "like" or "you know"?

Has your OC ever made a conscious effort to change their voice? Perhaps by trying to rid themselves of a particular accent or making themselves sound more assertive?

Are there any particular words that make your OC cringe? Is this due to negative associations? Or second-hand embarrassment? Do they try to conceal their dislike?

Is your OC talented at creative writing, whether poetry or prose? Would they ever show their work to anyone else?

Are there any concepts or activities which are taboo in your OC's culture of origin, which they prefer to refer to euphemistically? How do the respond to others who do not share these taboos?

What is your OC's favourite or "go-to" swearword when under duress?

Does your OC's body language sometimes give away what they might prefer to conceal? Or are they practiced at ensuring that their physical presentation matches their stated positions?

Has your OC ever found other people struggle to understand them because of their accent? How did this make them feel? Did they resent the listeners? Or feel bad about themselves? Or both?

How does your OC feel about other people with "posh" or "upper-class" accents? Do they feel a natural deference to them? Or a resentment? Or do they not even notice?

To what degree does your OC amend their language and/or tone when speaking to children (or in front of them).

Does your OC ever use technical or academic language when discussing their specialist interests? Do others ever need them to translate these terms?

Does your OC like to ascribe nicknames or pet names to other people? How well does this usually go down?

What is your OC's singing voice like? Does it surprise other people by being better (or worse) than they expected?

How confident is your OC at writing? Do they regularly write letters or even academic papers? Or is their writing stilted, awkward - or even a source of embarassment to them?

How does your OC's voice change when they are trying to persuade someone else to let them have their own way? Is this particularly persuasive? Perhaps only to certain people?

Has anyone ever mocked or made fun of your OC's accent or the words they use? What was the impact of this upon them?

What kind of compliments might your OC bestow upon another person? Elegant flattery? Crude sexual banter? Measured, but positive feedback?

Does your OC ever use deliberately offensive or abusive terms towards particular social or cultural groups?

How easy does your OC find it to say "no"? Do they prefer to prevaricate? Is this out of courtesy? Or from a fear of rejection?

Are there any words or terms that your OC finds particularly offensive? Is this unique to their own experiences or something on which most people would agree?

Is your OC particularly vocal during sex? Do they tend to use actual words or even full sentences? Or just noises? How much control do they have over this?

How often does your OC raise their voice? Is this always deliberate or can they sometimes not help it?

Does your OC ever make idle threats? Or do they only state very precisely exactly what the consequences will be?

How long are the sentences your OC usually uses in conversation? Do they tend to communicate in brief, or even terse, pieces of dialogue? Or are they prone to flowery language - or even outright verbosity?

Does your OC yell or scream during arguments? Or do they become quiet and withdrawn?

Does your OC ever talk to themselves? How aware of this are they?

What is your OC's laugh like? Is it a genteel titter? A hearty belly laugh? Or a snorting noise like a constipated donkey?

How wide is your OC's vocabulary? Do others consider them eloquent or well-read?

If confronted by someone who cannot - or will not - speak how would your OC respond? If they cannot - or will not - speak themselves then how do others respond to this? How do they make themselves understood?

Is your OC particularly loud in combat? Do they yell? Roar? Or are they a silent and deadly presence?

Does your OC challenge others for perceived discourtesies? Or are they unwilling or unmotivated to cause a scene?

Does your OC ever wish that their voice was different? Are they ever embarassed or ashamed of their accent or the volume of their voice?

Does your OC find any particular voices or accents especially alluring or stimulating?

How often does your OC add new words to their vocabulary? Do they hungrily pick up new terms and words? Or do they struggle to remember such things?

How eloquent is your OC? Is their use of language beautiful, or at least skillful? Or do they struggle to communicate without sounding clumsy or awkward?

Does your OC ever change their language or tone when moving between different cultures or social settings?

What (if any) are your OC's go to "polite" expressions of disappointment or frustration? Do they ever substitute words like "sugar" or "darn" for stronger language? Under what circumstances might they do this?

Does your OC find it easy to talk about sexual activities or bodily parts? Or can they only speak about them using twee euphemisms or obscure slang terms? Or can they not speak about them at all?

What would be the most offensive word or term to use about your OC? How would they respond to this being used towards them? Would it matter what the intent or understanding of the person using it might be?

Was your OC quick to learn how to speak as a child? Was their grasp of language encouraged by those around them? Did anyone read with them? Or recite poetry or stories to them?

Does your OC ever revert to baser, perhaps even coarser, ways of speaking when under stress or anxiety? Or are they consistently poised and self-controlled, no matter how difficult the situation?

[diamonddeputy]

Why [DELTARUNE CHAPTER 4 SPOILERS] is an effective villain: a premature analysis

Y’all I’m literally posting this and then disappearing from the Internet for however long to avoid the spoiler brigade. I haven’t even finished Chapter 4 yet, there could be more I don’t even know. I just cannot sleep and am so wracked with autistic mania that I HAVE to get my thoughts in order or I will explode

Character creation and analysis have always been some of my greatest passions. I still have my Ceroba Ketsukane analysis sitting on the backburner, 24 pages and counting, that exists purely for my own enjoyment. Storytelling fundamentals are things I keep in mind for everything I consume, especially in the context of characters. That being said, known character development strategies can be attributed to Carol Holiday, and why she works SO WELL as a villain imo

Back when J.K. Rowling wasn’t a piece of shit, I watched an interesting video commenting on how Voldemort could have been made more effective as a villain. Which essentially compared him to Umbridge who usually provokes more vitriol within the community and pitched the idea of him casting some sort of life-altering spell on Hermione. I can’t remember the exact details, but it was something to the effect of memory alteration or brain function suppression, to take away the one thing that mattered most to her in life, which was her academic success and pursuit of knowledge, which we see her strive so passionately for throughout the whole series. And then the reader would have to watch her slog through life with no sense of purpose, a husk of her former self, and allow that rage to fester. He then tied this back to why Umbridge is remembered (ironically, less) fondly, because the slights she commits are targeted specifically on known flaws and vulnerabilities of the main characters

It’s something that I’ve carried with me since because it really does make sense if you stop and think about it. Being like 13 at the time I initially clicked on that video with more curiosity than anything because I thought he worked pretty effectively. But by the end I was like holy shit yeah that would’ve worked SO much better. And the more I think about it, the more it’s really on full display here

The reveal that Carol is a central antagonist made me feel things, sure, but the thing that REALLY got me was seeing her for the first time, even before we knew just how connected she was. When Susie commented on the temperature seeming to fall when she entered, I FELT that. Because the previous chapters made SUCH a big deal about NEVER letting us see her. She was always cooped up in her office with hordes of cronies blocking any entrances commenting on how busy she is, even when confronted with our teenaged protagonist wishing to report a serious danger that not even the police is taking seriously. Within our centralized view, that paints a cold, scheming picture right off the bat

We were given ample time to create a caricature in our minds, shaping itself to whatever bounds it would allow itself to stretch. This is a common practice seen in comic book theory, with the idea that a scene that takes place in a gutter (the space between panels, or in other words, not shown) is infinitely more shocking, gruesome, terrifying, whatever you want it to be than anything that could be shown. Because it allows the viewer to fill in the blanks for themselves, and the human mind has the tendency to jump to the very worst. So seeing her pale fur, sunken eyes, stony glare, frigid colour palette, just HIT because it reinforced EVERYTHING that had been festering in our minds for the past however long. For me, it’s barely even been a year. I can’t even begin to imagine those who have been holding it for upwards of six

We’re already starting off with a bang, but the fact she’s so mysterious is then just used to make the small things we DO learn about her even MORE effective. Noelle is scared to tell her she’s locked out of the house. She doesn’t keep keys of important documents anywhere but home. Rudy is spending what could be his last moments terrified of what will happen to Noelle after he isn’t there to “balance Carol out”, in his words. Noelle explains the feeling of seeking out things that scare her just so she can feel comforted. Speaking as someone else with a poor emotional relationship with her parents, the portrayal of Carol as such is not only harrowing, but very REAL. It’s severe enough to push all the right buttons, but not SO much so that she becomes harder to take seriously because a sense of immersion is lost. THAT is just as important, and it’s what really sells the effectiveness

The fact she wants to bring calamity upon the world is awful, sure. But that’s not why I hate her. I hate her because she’s a shitty mother. I hate her because Noelle has gone through so much because of her. And most of all, I hate her because of the implication that she’s using Dess to get her way, if I’m not going batshit crazy and Dess is the Roaring Knight like is seeming to be implied. Hell, she may have even staged her disappearance to be rid of her, as we know Dess wanted to leave home as soon as possible and take Noelle with her, and also that she was a contrarian to her mother’s strict beliefs and did things she never would have approved of. The reveal that, in her words, “I am always welcome in her home” would only have ever intrigued me if I didn’t know what I do about her. Perhaps she has more sympathetic motives than are being shown to me presently! But because these careful steps were taken to establish her not only as an antagonist, but as a VILLAIN, I felt pure unadulterated disgust. And the desire to be anywhere else and do anything else and listen to anyone else and never do what she wants me to do ever

What truly makes a good villain is the combination between narrative stakes and personal investment. And, more importantly than that, the effort to make it believably, groundely REAL, as opposed to overly blunt or performative. I’ve hated Carol from literally Chapter 1, assuming that she was gonna be an invisible driving force for Noelle’s character development and not much more, and now I just have a vessel to fuel all that rage into because the careful work behind the curtain is being unveiled masterfully. The fact there’s even more to know upcoming has my head spinning because I’m already reeling from just how much I HATE Carol, and just how GOOD that is for the story

If you’ve somehow survived my word salad the size of Mars, please please please leave tour thoughts or whatever else. I’ll see it when I eventually finish everything

[ooooo-mcyt]

It's actually so interesting to me how often fanon remembers Dogwarts as one consistent and extremely loyal and unified group, because having rewatched Third Life a few times lately, the reality is a lot messier and more complicated.

I mean, for starters, the unified Dogwarts faction was a very late addition to the series. Dogwarts existed in some form early on in the series, sure, but it was functionally an alternate naming of Renchanting, which was always just Ren and Martyn and their enchanting business. They had allies, but members of the "Eastern Alliance" weren't members of Dogwarts. The expansion and unification of Dogwarts (a functional rebranding of the faction) came after Ren turned red in session five(?) of eight, at which point Ren and Martyn began seeking allegiance from what were formerly more casual alliances of independent players and factions, and the actual solidification of who was part of the Red Army of Dogwarts took until basically session seven if I'm remembering correctly.

What I'm trying to get at by talking about the specifics of the forming of the Red Army is that, while it's easy in fanon to simplify the faction down to "It was Ren, Martyn, Etho, BigB, Skizz, and Impulse from the start (and then impulse betrayed them)", that's not reflective of the actual events of the season. And I think this concept crucially misrepresents things in two negative ways:

1.) Leaving out important alliances in Dogwarts history. Namely Team Crastle. They were, possibly, some of the oldest and most consistent allies of Renchanting from the beginning of the season, and were cut from the alliance remarkably late in the season. Cleo was, abruptly, cut out of the alliance by Ren because she burned down Joel's house, which Cleo only did after being attacked by Joel and Etho. An act which I think is important in characterizing both Ren (who at this point was so fixated on the unification of dogwarts under a single banner and rule that he'd cut out one of his oldest allies for the sake of joel, who joined them that episode and would betray them by the end of it) and Cleo. Furthermore, I think Ren's rejection of Team Crastle is vital context behind both Impulse and Tango removing themselves from Dogwarts (yes, they were both "playing both sides" as personal tactics, but i also very much believe some sense of personal loyalty led to their ultimate decisions to team with cleo and bdubs, and their rejections/betrayals of dogwarts, to me, rely heavily on the context of the alliance between renchanting and team crastle). Team Crastle isn't the only notable alliance that often gets left out either. As I mentioned earlier, Joel was briefly an official actual member of Dogwarts during the Red Army phase, and while this alliance was brief, I think it is important. Firstly because of how Joel's 'betrayal' fueled the paranoia and bloodthirsty nature of Dogwarts, and secondly because of how the whole situation characterizes Dogwarts at this point in how they used fear tactics to pressure Joel into swearing allegiance (and how he only publicly broke that allegiance later on, when surrounded by other enemies of dogwarts who were offering him support and encouragement). It's also worth noting the relationships between Dogwarts and Flower Husbands, because they were in relatively good standing, and their eventual status as enemies came not from real wrongdoing, but from Scott and Jimmy taking issue with the idea of being 'lesser' members of their alliance, wanting to be equal allies rather than swearing their allegiance.

2.) Making the final members of Dogwarts seem more solidly unified than they were. Yes, Ren, Martyn, Etho, Skizz, and BigB were the Red Army of Dogwarts, and they stuck together until the end of Dogwarts. Ostensibly. But things were..messier..than that. Because I firmly believe the group wasn't as solidly loyal as fanon would have you believe. Martyn, infamously, was allegedly planning to betray Ren once they got far enough into the game, he just didn't have the chance to do so. And while one might think it functionally doesn't matter to the Dogwarts alliance, since he never actually betrayed them, I'd argue that the way Martyn keeps one foot out the door and makes plans in the shadows can be felt very strongly in Ren's pov and actually massively contributed to Ren's mental downward spiral and paranoia. Etho I'd also argue was a big question mark. Sure, he refuses to go against Ren when Grian and Scar try to get him on side, but Etho was also largely unsympathetic toward Ren following the loss of Ren's first life, coming to Renchanting to ask for immediate enchanting and implying he was unsatisfied with their alliance when Ren and Martyn responded with frazzled hesitance. Etho all but stated to Ren that he was only in the alliance for what he can get from it in that moment. BigB and Skizz were both more loyal, but they were also on the outskirts a bit. BigB was a relatively late addition to the alliance, pulled in by his connection to Martyn (who as we established wasn't as loyal as people believe). Skizz was maybe the one stable, consistent, and undoubtedly loyal member of the alliance, though Ren was slow to accept him as such, suspecting Skizz of trying to take advantage of Dogwarts and skip out on bargains early in the season (which was fair to an extent because a lot of players were). It's also very important to note that Dogwarts didn't really fight together in the finale, which I'd argue is a massive reason for their downfall. Ren and Martyn largely stuck together, but Skizz was separated and killed early on, and Etho and BigB spent large chunks of time separated from Ren and Martyn not really doing much or feeling any urgent need to involve themselves in the fight when they don't have to (something that's commented on in etho's pov). Even at their most unified, Dogwarts wasn't necessarily the hyper loyal unified group Ren wanted them to be, or that they're often viewed at.

Sorry for how much I've been rambling, I just think Third Life is the most fascinating season from a political angle and Dogwarts is my Roman Empire in how complicated their history and alliances were, as well as in how different the way Ren presented his alliance optically is from how it actually was at any point. Because things weren't as clean or pretty at any point in Dogwarts history as one may believe.

[veliseraptor]

Lise, may we please have the "most horrifying nonfiction books i’ve read (and liked)" list?

so "liked" is probably the wrong word for some of these; what I mean is mostly "horrifying nonfiction I've read that in some way felt like it tweaked something vital in my brain" (though a couple of these are just. straight up horrifying)

let's see I had to go back into my reading records for this, and the list I came up with was:

The Age of Surveillance Capitalism by Shoshana Zuboff. Ever wanted to feel worse about the insidious way that "smart" technology has come to be a seemingly inevitable part of life? Have I got the book for you!

The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander. It's my privilege certainly to have not already known a lot of this when I first read this book, and I feel like it's almost a cliche by now, but I remember how it felt to read the first time and yeah, it was very oh god as an experience.

Bloodlands by Timothy Snyder. Though honestly I could've put Black Earth on here too/instead.

The Chaos Machine by Max Fisher. Ever wanted to feel worse about the ways that social media is changing our behavior and social landscape? Have I got the book for you! (aka the one that had a friend telling me "congrats, you've figured out how to doomscroll with a book!")

The Coming Plague by Laurie Garrett. I read this I believe actually pre-Covid and honestly the horrifying part was not even about the diseases under discussion themselves but the inequities in design that, even if they weren't just an appalling injustice in themselves, set the world up for failure in the face of a pandemic. Which. We saw how that went.

King Leopold's Ghost by Adam Hochschild. Less of a "the modern world is built on fundamental failures of justice and compassion" and more "hey here's another piece of history that's horrible that you weren't previously aware of, Lise, have fun." I've read some critiques of this one since, but none that contest the basic facts of the case.

Ordinary Men by Christopher R. Browning. I don't read a lot of books about the Holocaust but I've read a few and this is one of the standouts very specifically for the way that it gets into the psychology of how you convince a bunch of people to personally commit mass murder - and it's not via bureaucratic distance, in this case.

Dark Money by Jane Mayer. I've also read some critiques of this one since I read it, but reading it for the first time and going "wow this is fucked" was sure an experience for me to have. I remember the particular flavor of despair I came out of it with. Big ouch.

Spillover by David Quammen. This is probably the one on this list that was the most just "straight up horrifying" - it's about zoonotic diseases and it was gnarly and scary to read at the time. Part of me wants to reread it. The rest of me really doesn't want to do that.

The Sixth Extinction by Elizabeth Kolbert. Another one I remember reading and coming out of with a deep sense of dread and despair. But it was, like, good. Worth reading, if you want to suffer and/or know more about the mass extinction event we're in the middle of.

this is not, to be clear, including books that just got me fired up about something (I waffled on including How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwahr but decided that was more of a 'this just made me angry' book than 'horrifying' in quite the same way of the other books here) or books that were upsetting in retrospect (Kingdom Coming by Michelle Goldberg). this is more books that made me go "shit that's fucked up" in a sort of appalled, terrified kind of way. and I'm almost certainly forgetting a bunch.

[theharbingerofxhaos]

We figured this could be a fun post so will attempt to answer as best we can even if we're still sick :(

-Erasmus

How many alters (headmates generally for us) do we have, and do we consider it a lot?

27 😅 Many of us are what we refer to as weaker fronters, so they tend to come out much much less, but others are much more consistent fronters, so although we wouldn't nessacarily say we have *a lot* of headmates, we definitely have a lot for the amount of days in a year there are!

Do we have any sub systems, and if so, how do they work?

We have, 4 maybe? And they all have a colour assigned to them: red, blue, green, and rainbow. Red Sub-System are "Crowleys", just headmates who formed off of Crowley, or another Crowley, they tend to basically be part of the main system but they tend to all share memory to a degree, and when front is fuzzy they can reach each other easier than reaching other headmates. Blue is "Cheshires", they are basically the same as Crowleys, but slightly different in appearance. There's only 3 cheshires, and generally, their fronts are all tied around each other, so if 1 is around, the other 2 are probably around, too. Green subsystem is just dubbed "the women", not much is known about them, except that they are either raging lesbians or raging pansexuals and no in between, they also tend to be fictives, or align heavily with a material that fits their personality. Honestly we only found out 4 of our headmates were/are from green sub-system this past December, and we've been dealing with a lot of other personal stuff so it's been hard to figure out where they are from, why they form, or how they work. The last is Rainbow. Rainbow is a completely separate sub-system. In our head, they sort of feel like an orb, black hole, void, etc. of many many, possibly endless fragments, generally ones that are harmful to themselves, our system, or just ones that never formed into headmates. They don't tend to front, and when they do, they can be anything from a little to a severe angry persecutor. One headmate has formed off of Rainbow, Iridiana, who also now gatekeeps when Rainbow can or cannot front to protect the system better.

Do we have a core?

Short answer, no, and we don't tend to like the phrase either. However we won't talk too much on this now as it's something Moira wants to write on later :)

Do we have an innerworld (headspace for us) and how complex is it?

Yes and no. We have had very intricate headspaces before, but for over 10 years now we have struggled with forming/seeing/having a headspace. Ashe is at times capable of forming a semi headspace, which is basically just a black void where anyone near front has a nice chair. For the past few months we've been having, dissociative dreams almost? In which there is a large round wooden table, with chairs around it that we all sit at or in the case of Artemis who we met via the table, on. Headspaces tend to be a point of discomfort for us though as not having one is, not very nice.

How does fronting work for our system, and do we have a fronting room?

We have an area near what we refer to as front (what would be the closest to the outerworld from out headspace), sometimes we've imagined it as a room, where headmates all sit, and can communicate with who is fronting easier, but it's very hard for us to tell what it really is for our system. Fronting works in a lot of ways for us, it would be hard to explain in one post, but a simple answer would be we all come and go from front, generally there is a brief dissociative period between switches, and gatekeepers try to control the flow of front better to stop slipping and other things.

How do we communicate with our headmates?

Often? We tell @guardianssystem something and hope he remembers it. Communication goes up and down with how easy it is for us, so sometimes it's as easy as directly talking to each other, almost like hearing someone else in our thoughts, sometimes we need to use external things to communicate.

Do we use headmate roles? And which do we use?

Yes! This seems to be a point of controversy for a lot of people, but we find roles help us focus, and give us some sense of being, we are here and this is why we're here, and this is why we're going to stay here. We use the general terms like protector, caretaker, persecutor, gatekeeper, and we also use some other community terms like soother, and internal self helper, but we also use some of our own terms. Moira we refer to as a "technical caretaker", someone who caretakers the technical things for the system like finances, and medical things. We refer to Moroi as a "physical caretaker", someone who looks after the body and acts almost as a protector, and Haytham, an "emotional caretaker", who acts similar to a protector or trauma holder, and protects the system emotionally, helps them emotionally or helps our partner system emotionally. Some caretakers can do multiple, but Moira is rather callous at times, and so doesn't like to act in place of an emotional caretaker because she feels it doesn't fit her role correctly, and it's sort of the same for all of our other roles too.

Who fronts the most, and who fronts the least?

This changes a lot, it tends to be protectors or caretakers who front the most, and littles and trauma holders that front the least, but that is not always certain, we have had trauma holder hosts at times etc.

How often do our fronting/host patterns change?

It's really random honestly, often influenced by external events, or our own mental health. Right now we have a planned out front schedule all the way to mid october, because the past year and a half has been full of front stucks, and big trauma stuff, and so we're attempting to catch up on headmate birthdays, and time out for those who haven't had much. Though the schedule is, flexible because sometimes people just, come out haha.

How often do we switch?

This is another harder question to answer, sometimes we can switch like 10-20 times in 1 day between any number of headmates, sometimes we can go months without switching. Right now it's about 1-2 times a day, if we need a caretaker or protector etc. or if someone wants to see Guardians :) Seeing Guardians tends to be a very, very common reason to switch we get lonely :(

Do we co-front with alters often, and is it easy or difficult?

It really depends. And depends on what you want to consider co-fronting, sometimes there will be multiple people at front, but not nessacarily "co-fronting". Ashe and Moira tend to co-front *A LOT* though, because they're dating. Sometimes if we need, multiple protectors will co-front, and that does tend to be extremely exhausting, even Ashe and Moira don't tend to fully co-front, just hang around very close and switch between each other. It works easiest on headmates who have a very close relationship, and even then it's not a very consistently achievable thing unfortunately.

How long does it take us to switch?

This is also very situational, if someone is weaker at pulling people out, if someone is very hard to reach, if there are more dissociative barriers than usual, can all affect how fast we switch. It can be anywhere from a second to a few hours. Though Guardians says the average is around 20 seconds or so :)

Do we have specific voice claims for how headmates sound inside?

Not really, our fictives sound like our fictives, and we all have a personal pinterest folder with things that look like us, or feel like us, hair styles etc. Sometimes there are things that sound similar to us, like recently Moroi sounds kind of like Dracula or Alucard from Castlevania, but it's not *exactly* how he sounds, it's hard to find exact things for how we feel a lot of the time, but it does sound interesting :D

Do we have any introjects, and if so what are their sources?

Plenty! We have Moira and Ashe from Overwatch, Edward and Haytham from Assassins Creed, Erebos who is alongside other things a multi-loki fictive (various sources), Jinx from Arcane/LoL, Lotor from Voltron, Zaheer (they go by Lotus though) from Korra, Stoat from Inscryption, V from V for Vendetta, Winter/Wolf (Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier) from Marvel/MCU, and a couple of people loosely formed based off of Guardians :) And Scarlet is technically like a triple source fictive but that is a whole different story.

Do we have any hosts/co-hosts?

Yes we have (after checking, we have not actually updated this on our simplyplural but we think we remember correctly) 3 co-hosts, we're pretty sure it's Moira, Scarlet, and Winter at the moment :)

If we have a headspace, can we see it while fronting?

Sort of? It depends on how formed it is at the time, and it does technically mean we can accidentally leave front trying to feel around inside, but we tend to be able to see inside without leaving front :)

Do we use any origin terms?

A few, not really often but as a whole we call ourselves a mixed origin system, made up of various traumagenic and endogenic headmates :)

Do we have any NPCs in our headspace?

We genuinely have no idea how to answer this one moment while we consult Guardians, and ask if our chairs count - Okay we are still uncertain on what does or doesn't count but we don't believe we do

Has our system created any rules our headmates are expected to bide by?

Yes, on multiple occassions, although it does change situationally. Just basically a general this is okay to do, this is not okay to do that anyone normally would have.

This was really fun to do! And if there's any other questions people have we will either make its own post about it or respond in a comment etc. we love answering questions so feel free to ask anything ❤

-Xhaos

PLURAL ASK GAME!! ⋆˙⟡

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ get 2 know ur sys!!

!! this post is for everybody! u may use this regardless of origin/beliefs, just remember to follow ur own dni

🌸 - how many alters do u have? do u consider yourself to have a high headcount?

🧩 - do u have any subsystems? if so, how do they work?

🍧 - are there any alter(s) who u would consider the “core”? if so, are they the host?

💞 - do u have an innerworld? how complex is it?

💧 - how does fronting work for your system? do u have a “front room”?

🍀 - how do u communicate with ur headmates?

🍡 - do u use alter roles/labels? which ones do u use?

🌺 - who fronts the most? who fronts the least?

❄️ - how often do ur hosts/fronting patterns change?

🥝 - how often do u switch?

🪷 - do you co-front with other alters often? is co-fronting easy or difficult?

🌷 - how long does it take for u to switch?

🌨️ - do ur alters have specific voice claims for what they sound like in headspace?

🌱 - do u have any introjects? what are their sources?

💐 - do u have any hosts? co-hosts?

🍃 - if u have an innerworld, can u see into while you’re fronting?

💗 - do u use any origin/-genic terms? what are they?

🌿 - do u have any npcs in your headspace?

🍬 - has ur system created any rules ur alters are expected to abide by?

[finnslay]

queer can still be considered a slur in some cases, of course. any word could be considered a slur, depending on the intention. however, many people have reclaimed the word queer and have been doing so since the 80s.

it is up to a person to choose whether they use the label queer. anyone who has a sexual or romantic orientation that is not straight, anyone whose gender isn't cisgender, anyone who is intersex, etc. so many people have every right to choose for themselves to use the word.

reclaiming words like queer that were once slurs is a way a community can empower themselves, remember where they came from and how hard they fought to get where they are now

being queer just means you have an identity that is "strange" or "odd", as you said, in some way. that in some form, whether is be from sexual orientation, romantic orientation, gender identity, being intersex, or part of the LGBTQIA+ community in some other way.

using the label queer is a way for people who use the label to have pride in being different. it shows that being "strange" and "odd" isn't something to be ashamed of.

Just a little reminder:

Straight people who are still queer in some other way are still valid

[pocket-size-cthulhu]

Saw someone on here the other day (genuinely don't remember who it was, sorry for the call-out if it was you) complaining about Cassian's decision in S2 to back out of the rebellion after Ghorman, saying it was bad character writing.

Which is wild to me bc it's actually perfectly in line with his character: he never committed to the rebellion the way most other characters in this did. In S1 when he said to Luthen, "it's better to live - eat, sleep, do what you want", that's been his core desire all along. He's a reluctant revolutionary. He doesn't want to be doing this; he wants to be living peacefully.

Also and maybe most importantly, the massacre on Ghorman didn't just showcase the brutality of the Empire; it showcased how Luthen was prepared to sacrifice those people for his cause. Cassian said from the start that they didn't have a chance there, and Luthen sent them backup anyway and pushed them to rebel and bring the fist down upon themselves. Cassian looked at that and said, I can't be part of this anymore. Was that an easy decision? Would any of us have chosen differently? Knowing that the plan was an "end-justifies-the-means" slaughter of some people on purpose in the effort to bring down the oppressive regime? I'm not surprised Cassian backed out. He's a person who cares about people.

Besides that, not all of us have unlimited energy to commit to a cause. Even if the massacre on Ghorman hadn't been at least partially Luthen's fault, retiring at that point would be completely valid. That's a lot to have lived through. Cassian is probably in his 30s at this point, which isn't old, but is old enough to feel it.

Cassian isn't a "perfect" protagonist - he wavers and falters in his commitment and sometimes has different priorities than we might want him to have since we already see him as a revolutionary. But I think that's what makes him a good protagonist.

Plus, there were a lot of people clearly doomed by the rebellion from the start. When Luthen died for the cause, it surprised exactly nobody, because that's the fate he sealed for himself. Cassian ran and ran from that fate though. He wanted so badly to just live. I think that makes it all the more moving when he decides to willingly place his life on the altar in Rogue One. He looks his death mission in the eye after years of running from it, and accepts it. He goes all in for the Rebellion on his own terms, in his own time, on a mission he believes in and not one he reluctantly accepted from Luthen or anyone else.

I think that's pretty good writing, myself.