#i feel like im forgetting something but yeah ^^;

[alwaysanangelneverag0d]

~Fast Break to your heart~Pazzi AU

NWSL Paige x WNBA Azzi

a/n:hello yall im very excited to release the first chapter of this i of course welcome any feedback or criticism.Especially in how i write womens soccer.I promise i will get a bit more detailed on that front jjst give me time🙏🙏🙏

Wc:5.3k(i swear most chapters will be much longer then this)

Chapter 1:Collision

Early May-2026

When she agreed to go to the game, Azzi told herself it was to keep the peace. Cam had called it team bonding. Azzi had been halfway through unpacking a box labeled kitchen decorations when Cam burst into her apartment, ripped open the blinds, and announced she was picking her up at three. Azzi had no choice. It was in moments like this that she wished she didn’t coincidentally live in the same apartment as Cameron Brink.

Now Azzi sat on the couch, book on her thigh, hoping Cam would forget she was forcing her into this.

But then she heard a knock and saw Cam standing in her doorway, arms crossed like a disappointed older sister.

“We’re gonna be late,” Cam’s tone was casual but sharp. “And I swear to God, if you bring that book with you, I’m throwing it out on the freeway.”

Azzi gasped. “Wow, threatening literature now—that’s low.”

“I’m not threatening the book. I’m threatening you, Fudd.” Cam stepped inside and snatched the book dramatically. “I’m not letting you third-wheel your own social life.”

Azzi sighed, running a hand through her curled hair. “It’s not about the book, I just couldn't care less about socc—”

Cam cut her off. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But consider this: it’s either sit in a packed stadium with friends or keep unpacking boxes, not knowing where you want to put your championship plaques.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “They aren’t even plaques… they’re framed jerseys.”

“Oh, my bad. I meant the Azzi Fudd Hall of Fame wall.”

Despite wanting to shoot daggers, Azzi cracked a grin, stifling a laugh.

Cam grinned back, knowing that when Azzi smiled, it meant victory. “That’s better. Now go put on something that isn’t sweatpants. You know Rickea hates waiting.”

Azzi groaned, mumbling, “The peer pressure is crazyyy.”

“Exactly,” Cam grinned. “Welcome to the team, Fudd.”

As they walked out of the apartment building, Cam reached out and bumped her shoulder slightly.

“Serious question,” Cam glanced sideways at her. “Why the hell are you still unpacking boxes for your kitchen? You’ve been here like two weeks.”

“Three, actually,” Azzi muttered. “Not that I’ve been counting.”

Cam raised a brow. “That is worse.”

Azzi didn’t respond immediately. She just kept walking through the lot, dragging her feet like her body was forcing her forward. The silence stretched long enough to make Cam look at her with concern.

“It’s not like, deep or anything,” Azzi said quickly, definitely not convincing. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“With what?” Cam added. “I have seen you read the same book three times this week.”

Azzi cracked a grin. “Hey, at least I’m consistent.”

Cam stopped walking and paused. “I get it—you don’t feel like this is home.”

Azzi’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s not about that.”

“It’s exactly about that.”

Azzi paused. She didn’t want to admit it, but Cam was right—even though she hadn’t fully acknowledged it out loud.

“I guess I just—” Azzi exhaled, “don’t feel settled yet.”

Cam didn’t say anything, letting Azzi open up at her own pace.

“I miss rhythm. The familiarity of the people, the court, routine.” She paused. “When I was at UConn, even the silence felt like it belonged to me. Here? It just feels like I’m a visitor. Like, I don’t belong here yet.”

Cam frowned, but her eyes showed understanding.

“You do belong here. Maybe just not in the ways you want to yet, but you do. You don’t have to force yourself to prove you belong every single day.”

Azzi nodded. “I know… but it’s just weird. Being without the girls. The noise. Familiarity.”

Cam bumped her shoulder once more. “Then let us be your noise.”

“You’re already loud enough.”

And then, to almost prove Azzi’s point, their moment was interrupted by a set of honks.

Azzi jumped, while Cam just shook her head with a grin.

“HELLOOOOOO!”

“Rickea, chill, we’re coming,” Azzi called back as they jogged toward the car.

“Took you long enough. I was about to start charging for loitering.”

Cam laughed. “My bad, Kea.”

Rickea shook her head. “Distractions get you nowhere when it comes to me.”

“Sorry, Kea. We’ll keep it quick next time.”

“You bet,” Rickea added. “’Cause next time, you’ll be walking to the game.”

———————————————————————-

Rickea’s Jeep vibrated with bass as Mary J. Blige blasted through the speakers, the windows rolled halfway down to let in the warm L.A. evening air. The girls were screaming the lyrics with unfiltered enthusiasm, not a single note in key, and none of them cared.

Cam was drumming on the dashboard like it was a snare, Rickea slapped the steering wheel in rhythm, and Dearica had her head halfway out the window, harmonizing so badly it looped around to charming. Azzi sat in the back, squeezed against the door, a reluctant passenger in the chaos.

But the noise was oddly comforting. Loud in a way that made silence feel impossible. Like friendship layered over static.

Azzi stared out the window, watching the city blur past in neon smudges and golden smears of sunlight. Her heart was ticking faster than it should’ve been, though she couldn’t decide if it was from nerves or something else.

She laughed when Cam tried to hit a high note and cracked spectacularly, clutching her chest like the lyrics had physically wounded her. It was ridiculous. And for a second, it felt good.

The closer they got to the arena, the more the atmosphere shifted.

Traffic thickened. Tailgates flipped open. Fans in pink and black filtered onto the sidewalks in packs. The air felt charged, like something big was about to happen.

Cam twisted sharply in her seat, dropping her sunglasses onto her lap as the chorus faded into the next track. She turned down the volume, not dramatically, but with purpose. The quiet hit harder after so much noise.

Cameron smiled at azzi as if she had something of great importance to say

“Just so you know,” she began dramatically, “there’s gonna be tons of hot, muscular women waiting for a beautiful, curly-headed basketball player like you to waltz in there.”

Azzi rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. This again.

The group’s obsession with trying to set her up was getting exhausting.

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m a visionary, actually,” Cam corrected, completely unbothered.

“A horny visionary.”

Rickea cackled as Cam threw her head back, clutching her chest like Azzi’s answer had physically wounded her.

“Listen, Az,” Cam said, leaning in like she was sharing sacred wisdom. “All I’m saying is—new city, new you. Let someone ruin you for once. Preferably someone with sexy thighs and a six-pack.”

Azzi groaned, already preparing to recite the same speech she’d been giving since she landed in L.A. “I’m not trying to date anyone right now. Or hook up. Or do anything other than basketball.”

“Yeah, but a basketball can’t kiss you goodnight,” Rickea chimed in from the driver’s seat, not even missing a beat.

“If it somehow could,” Azzi muttered, “it would probably still do it better than all the people you sleep with.”

Cam let out a loud snort. “BURN.”

Rickea gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like Azzi had shot her point blank. “She’s ruthless! Cam, I told you she was cold-blooded off the court, too!”

Cam and Rickea launched into a fake argument over who was the more emotionally neglected friend, their voices escalating with every fake accusation. Azzi leaned back into her seat and stared out the window, letting their banter fill the space around her.

There was something peaceful about the noise. Familiar. Like background music to her restless thoughts.

But the moment they stepped out of the car, everything changed.

The hum of the stadium hit Azzi like a wave—loud and alive. You could feel the energy in the air, buzzing with anticipation. The crowd, even from a distance, moved like a tide, their chatter and laughter rising in waves as the arena loomed overhead like a coliseum built for modern-day gladiators.

And the closer they walked, the more Azzi felt it: that quiet shift in the air. Like she wasn’t just walking into a soccer game, but into something bigger. Something electric.

The concrete beneath her sneakers felt different. The lights ahead were brighter. The sound of a thousand voices layered over one another felt like prophecy.

It was just a game.

Fans were weaving in and out of lines, most decked in jerseys, scarves, and posters in the team's hues of pink, black, and grey. But what pulled her into noticing was the name

Bueckers

Over and over again

It was on the back of jerseys in bold lettering. On colorful signs that almost felt like declarations. Even painted on the cheeks of young fans

Azzi’s breath hitched. Paige’s name might as well have been sewn into the air

They didn’t just admire. They adored her

‘’Is this normal? ’’ she asked under her breath as they headed towards their section of seats

Cam followed her gaze. “For Paige? Yes, L.A. worships her, she’s like the female Messi”.

“Shit they’d probably elect her for mayor and she wouldn’t even have to campaign” Rickea added.

Azzi let out a chuckle, but for some reason, her chest felt tight. She had played in front of sellout crowds. She saw her name on posters, jerseys, and faces, just like Paige. But this noise wasn’t for the sake of a team, it was for her.

Paige

The one the city had crowned theirs

Her eyes glazed over a sign ‘’The prophecy lives”

She didn’t know which made her feel worse. That Paige had a hype azzi dreamed to have one day.. Or the fact that she understood why.

—————————————————————-

As they weaved through the crowd towards their seats, Azzi found herself feeling weirdly off balance. Not sick, just..off.Maybe it was the lights. Or the noise.Or maybe something else.Someone else

She barely had a moment to ground herself when Cam cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed,

“PAIGEEEEE”

Azzi was mortified. “Cam, what are you doing?” Azzi hissed, grabbing the taller girl's arms in an attempt to stop the draw of attention Cam had summoned. Heads turned in their direction. Azzi immediately ducked lower in her seat. The last thing she wanted was attention, especially when it came to Cam’s antics

“I'm tryna get PB's attention,” Cam whined as she waved her arms frantically in the air like she was lost in the forest begging for a helicopter rescue.

Azzi followed her gaze towards the field. There she was. Paige Bueckers. Talking to a teammate, water bottle clutched in strong, veined hands. Azzi blinked. Something inside her hiccupped. She turned back to Cam.

“Wait, you know her?”

“ I could’ve sworn I mentioned her name once. Possibly even twice”

Azzi was truly astonished

“When you said ‘Paige’, I didn’t think you meant the Paige Bueckers.”

Can shot her a proud look. “Yep.The one and only. The chosen one, they say”

Rickea giggled, “We love Paigey, even though she looks mean, she's like a teddy bear.”

Azzi’s eyebrow raised. “She does not give off the vibes of a teddy bear’

“I mean to be honest, she has always had a certain reputation, you could say,” Rickea smirked as if she was about to reveal government secrets

“A Reputation of…?”.Azzi was curious

“Being a massive S-L-U-T,” Rickea’s smirked

“Don’t you think that's a bit harsh?” Dearica chimed in from the other side

Can let out a loud snicker at this. “Only harsh if you didn’t go to Stanford with her. I eventually lost track of the number of girls who came up to me, in literal tears, because Paige ghosted them

“Oh yeah,” Rickea added,” and always the same excuse- ’ I need to focus on soccer’.Not like she was lying.”

“I think I saw her sleep in cleats one time in spring sem,” Cam giggled.

‘She had the same line for everyone’’Rickea shook her head. “Never lasted more than a week with a girl.”

Azzi said nothing. Her eyes drifted unintentionally back to the bench. Paige was crouched, lacing her cleats. Something was mesmerizing about just that simple act. The way she carried herself in simplicity made Azzi’s stomach drop.

Azzi blinked, realizing she was staring. That’s when she felt a nudge

Dearica leaned in. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

Azzi’s face flushed.”Um–what? No.”

But her voice was too flat for someone who was denying it.

Rickea smirked, “Mhm.”

“Seriously, I don’t have time for a distraction like that; basketball is my only focus.”

“Well, your loss.” Rickea licked her lips, “'Cause if I was into girls, I’d let Paige ruin my life.”She threw her head back dramatically .”Those gorgeous chiseled abs?That jawline? She could call me ugly, and I’d still thank her for acknowledging me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. Biting her cheeks to keep from breaking out in a grin

“I think you two would get along well.”

Azzi blinked, shocked at Cam’s sudden comment

“Me and Paige?”

Rickea and Cam nodded in agreement

“As weird as it sounds, yeah.” Cam added, “You are way more alike than you’d like to think.”

“I doubt that,” Azzi scoffed. What could she possibly have in common with Paige?

“I'm being serious, Az.” Cam paused, “You both live for the game, like, don't get me wrong, I love ball. But you both don't just play the game you love-you live it.”

Azzis breath caught

“You train it every day like it's a religion to be preached. You push yourselves even when you're long past empty. You breathe the game into your lungs. I've only met two people like that.You.And her”

Azzi was rendered speechless. She felt uncomfortable with how Paige’s dedication made her feel. How seen she felt

“Though I must say you are definitely much much nicer,” Rickea joked, earning a hard jab to the ribs from Cam in retaliation

“Still,” Cam added, “You would like her more than you think, hun.”

Azzid forced herself to let out a laugh and smile, but it came out ingenuine hollow. Forced

Might like her?Absolutely not. Liking Paige Bueckers would not be happening.

The lights dimmed slightly. The announcer's voice boomed through the arena, echoing off the walls and out of the open roof.

Azzi shifted in her seat. She hadn’t expected to come here and feel like this. Her heart ticked like it was ready to explode. Not in fear of the game . There was the unfamiliar weight lingering. A force threatening to break her walls.

A quick montage played on the arena jumbotron.Highlights flashing. Explosive cuts of goals and saves.

One by one, the announcer began calling out the starting eleven players, each name sparking a wave of applause and chants. The anticipation built steadily, like the calm before a storm.

“Starting in goal… number 19… Angelina Anderson!”

The crowd erupted with cheers, fans waving scarves and chanting her name.

“And holding midfield… number 23… Christen Press!”

A fresh roar surged through the stands, a mix of whistles and applause echoing off the arena walls.

Rickea hit Azzi’s side. “Just wait until you hear the crowd when they announce her.”

Azzi just nodded at Rickea's words. Her body began to sweat

Why is she affecting her like this

“And starting at forward…”

Cam rubbed her hands together in excitement

A quick pause of silence

“Number 5…..PAIGEE BUECKERRRSSS!”

The stadium exploded in increased volume

“PB! PB!

Chants came from every end of the arena

But this wasn’t like the names before. It wasn’t cheering.This was worship

Devotion.As if she were something holy. The entire stadium had turned into a congregation, and Paige was there gospel

She gazed up in silence as the Jumbotron showed Paige’s slow jog onto the field. Her movements were calm and easy. Like she didn’t need to meet the energy of the crowd.The energy wrapped around her.Made space for her

Azzi hated how poetic every thought in her brain felt. She was jealous that just a jersey and a name brought utter devotion from people.

The city didn’t just love Paige. They believed in her. The kind of belief where they built statues.The kind of belief that puts pressure on your soul.

But she knew then something deep inside her had shifted. Something her mind had failed to catch up with.

A warning, maybe, or possibly a pull.

And that terrified her.

___

The field was in complete chaos. players colliding like atoms, cleats slicing grass, arms jostling for space. And then, without warning, the chaos formed around her

Paige.

She didn’t just receive the ball- she absorbed it. A touch so clean it looked magnetic, as if the ball had been drawn towards her. Her back was to goal, one defender already pressing close, but Paige’s first move was so subtle it barely registered until the defender lunged and missed.

Azzi leaned forward in her seat.

Paige spun, shielding with her shoulder, and accelerated. Not in the way most players sprinted-desperate, messy-, but like a blade sliding through air. Each stride was long, hungry, clean. She pushed the ball ahead with the outside of her foot and slipped through a seam that shouldn’t have existed. Azzi blinked. The defenders were caught on their heels, like they were chasing a ghost.

One last defender closed in, a center back with broad shoulders and fast feet. Paige didn’t slow. She tapped the ball to the right with her instep, drawing the defender that direction, then cut back left so sharply the girl nearly tripped over her own two feet. Paige was through. Open.

Azzi’s pulse quickened.

The box approached. The goalie stepped up.

And Paige didn’t hesitate.

Her foot met the ball with terrifying control, a low, curling strike with the inside of her cleat that spun like it had a mind of its own. It curled around the keeper’s outstretched hand, bent at the last moment, and kissed the inside of the far post before settling into the back of the net.

Azzi didn’t even realize she’d held her breath until the crowd exploded.

A sound so huge it felt like it shifted the air in her lungs.

Paige didn’t celebrate

She turned back towards midfield

And then she did it

Lifted the hem of her jersey to wipe the beads of sweat off her face

A simple gesture

But to Azzi, it felt like her world had tilted

Her eyes caught the flash of skin. Smooth, carved with the definition that could only come from obsession,from hours of morning reps . Paige’s abs were unreal. She was convinced they were sculpted from the gods. Sharp lines traced down her stomach, flexing even more with heavy breaths. In that moment, Azzi wondered what it would be like to trace the tips of her fingers along those sharp lines.

She blinked, forcing her mind and eyes to gather themselves

Did she just stare at Paige Bueckers' abs?

Yes, god yes, she had

She glanced away as fast as she could, hoping none of her teammates had picked up on Azzi’s wandering eyes.

But to her dismay, Ricked leaned in

“Now you see what I was talking about.”

Azzi groaned, “Don’t.”

“Like I said,” Rickea whispered, “I would let Paige ruin me.” She let out a low whistle, eyes still fixed on the field.

Azzi tried to force a laugh, but she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt deeply unsettled and wasn’t sure if it was due to Paige’s ridiculous body or the fact that for a full 11 seconds, Azzi had frozen. Completely mesmerized

But she wasn’t interested. She swore it

She crossed her arms, trying to shut the feeling out. But her mind only drifted back toward the slow lift of that jersey. The pale skin. A strength only achieved by devotion and obsession

The way it made her feel something.A feeling that she had spent her whole career running from.

For the rest of the game, she told herself she was watching in the interest of the sport. She clapped when the crowd clapped, winced when they gasped, and nodded when Cam shouted about a missed call. But in truth?

She wasn’t watching the game

She was watching her

Every time Paige moved across the field, Azzi felt her eyes follow. It wasn’t out of her conscious-but something magnetic. Like rereading a line in a book that left her hollow

The way Paige sprinted in perfect form.The way she called for the ball-voice loud and imposing, carrying through the crowd.The flick of her hand when she made a gesture.The flame in her eyes when a pass didn’t connect.

Azzi Fudd knew nothing about soccer, but she didn’t need to. Paige made the rules irrelevant. Watching her play was not about understanding the strategy. It was about feeling intensity radiate off of every kick, every pivot.

She played like it was her god given purpose. Not cocky, but inevitable

It was irritating. And maddening

Yet Azzi couldn’t stop watching.

When the final whistle blew, the crowd cheered. Azzi felt as if she had just snapped out of a trance

The game was over, and yet Azzi couldn’t help but feel like it just started.

Cam insisted on staying behind to greet Paige.

Azzi lingered at the edge of the group as they approached, keeping her distance like a cautious observer. She wasn’t trying to be rude—she just didn’t want to intrude. It felt strange, being here. It was like she was hovering on the edge of Paige’s spotlight. Cam wasted no time. She threw her arms around Paige in one of her signature Brink hugs, the kind that squeezed the air out of you. To Azzi’s surprise, Paige laughed a soft, raspy sound that felt too human for someone Azzi had half-convinced herself was just a goal-scoring robot.

Still, she stayed back.Watching.Observing

When Paige’s eyes finally flicked toward her, Azzi turned away—too quickly, too obviously. She pretended to squint up at the arena seats, as if something up there had suddenly become fascinating. Anything to avoid the weight of her stare. Because even as Rickea and Dearica began chatting with Paige, Azzi could feel her eyes trailing across her skin like a scan. Cold.Observant.

Her skin suddenly felt too cold for a warm L.A. night.

She forced herself to glance back. Paige was still watching her, expression unreadable.

“Who’s she?” Paige asked, nodding toward Azzi. Her voice was low clipped and polite, but hollow. Void of interest. It wasn’t curiosity, just protocol.

“That’s Azzi!” Cam said brightly. “The super cool, ridiculously talented new teammate I told you about.” She shoved Azzi forward like she was offering up a shiny trophy.

“Oh. Right,” Paige said, her tone dry. She shifted her weight, hands fidgeting at her sides. “Nice to meet you.” The words landed with a dull thud, lacking warmth or care.

Azzi stepped forward only slightly, offering a stiff nod. “Nice goal earlier,” she said flatly, the compliment thinly veiled behind indifference

Her voice was cooler than usual, measured, detached. The kind of voice she used on the court when the scoreboard was close and emotions were too dangerous. Her teammates shot each other quiet looks, confused. That wasn’t how Azzi usually spoke to people. That wasn't the girl who laughed at Cam’s dumb jokes or hugged Rickea after practices.

Paige didn’t even blink. “Thanks.” Her response was mechanical, as if she were reading off a script. No smile. No acknowledgment. Just a hand held out like a formality.

Azzi shook it briefly. The handshake was firm, businesslike. Her palm was warm but steady, soft yet calloused. Azzi hated that she noticed that. Hated that, for a second, she wondered how someone could have hands like that and still feel so distant. So far from reach.

As soon as their hands separated, the thread between them snapped. Paige turned back to Cam, as if Azzi had never been there. Like she wasn’t worth more than a few seconds of transactional introduction.

Azzi stood still, pretending it didn’t bother her. Pretending she hadn’t just been dismissed. She told herself she didn’t care.

They stayed a while longer, the conversation flowing around her like a current that was too dangerous to step into. Paige talked to Cam, laughed with Rickea. Even joked with Dearica. But not once did she address Azzi again.

And Azzi didn’t try either.

When it was time to go, she gave Cam a quick hug, hearing her say, “We’re overdue for a chat and some Shirley Temples.” Azzi gave a small, detached wave in return and followed the others toward the exit. Her chest tightened, but her face remained calm.

She wasn’t offended

She just didn’t expect someone to be so good at making her feel invisible.

———————————————————————

Later, as they were walking back to Rickea’s car, the sun had dipped, causing the sky to be painted in deep blue and oranges should’ve made Azzi lighten. Usually, she would pull her phone out and take a picture, but her body still felt rigid. Her Hand still felt warm. She could still feel the way Paige didn’t acknowledge her. Like she didn’t exist

Nope.Nope.She was not letting a small interaction get in her head. Especially when that person was probably gonna forget her name the next day

She was pulled out of her trance as Rickea made a dramatic stop in front of the car

“Ok, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?”

“Why were you acting like Elsa the ice queen when you met Paige?”

Dearica gave Rickea a look and leaned against the passenger door.” Seriously, Azzi, you shook her hand like you had just ended a business meeting.”

Rickea added, “Yeah, that’s not like you at all.”

Azzi scoffed, smirking even though she had wanted to curl in a ball at the fact they had also noticed.”I was being normal, you guys are just being dramatic.”

“Normal,” Dearica shot back, “You were stiffer than Cam’s hair on picture day. That’s not the same Azzi who tried to fight the vending machine for stealing her protein bar.”

“I'm just tired, it's been a long day,” she replied, her voice in a calm tone that signified she was done talking about it.

But she felt it in the way they looked at her. As if they could see straight through her lie.

“Ok, let's go.” Azzi opened the back door of the car and slid in. Grateful that they didn’t push. She rested her head against the hot window. Silence settled in the car as the hum of the city slowing down filled the space

Rickea and Dearica talked quietly in the front, but Azzi felt elsewhere. She was too busy fighting against her brain

Stop overthinking about someone you met once. You’re being dramatic. She’s allowed to act cold towards you if she feels like it. She doesn’t know you

She most definitely forgot your name already, anyway. Which is good because that means it will be easier to forget her, too. You are here for basketball. Not that kind of attention

Paige Bueckers shouldn’t bother her. But her thoughts still betrayed her. She had been ignored by worse. Her parents, her coaches, and teammates. But somehow, the ignorance of a stranger stung her heart deeper.

It was the effortlessness of Paige's switch to indifference that made her stomach do backflips.

She’s probably just an asshole to everyone. Cam practically said it herself

But somehow Paige's ignoring her had felt deeply personal. And thats what pissed her off most. How was she letting a stranger occupy her mind like this

You don't even know her, and you have a game tomorrow. Stay focused.

She clenched her hands into fists in her lap to regain control.

Azzi Fudd never feels like this. Curious about someone.Not right.Unsettled

And definitely not intrigued. Especially by someone like Paige Bueckers

But even as Rickea pulled into the apartment parking lot

Azzi knew the thought of Paige would still linger.No matter how far she pushed it down

——————————————————————

Later that night, after unpacking two or so more boxes. The apartment was purely quiet. A silence she had been craving all day

A blanket was pulled over her legs while Stewie snoozed between her feet. A half-unpacked box sat next to her mockingly

Azzi sipped from her second glass of wine. Or maybe it was her third? She didn’t bother to count. Staring at the book in her hand

She had read the same paragraph 7 times in the last ten minutes. Her eyes tried again to absorb the words of her book, but her brain wasn’t registering them

It was probably just nerves. She had her first regular-season game tomorrow, and that had her in her head.

But as she turned another page, she knew that wasn't true. Her only thoughts were a certain 5’8 blonde

Paige.

Not in a weird way, not like a crush or some shit. You’re just curious.

But the game had ended hours ago, and thoughts of Paige still lingered like static in the crevices of her brain. Azzi kept picturing those stupid abs and how they caught the lights in the arena. She could still feel the Vibration from when they chanted her name. Like it was a sermon at church.As if she were the Holy gospel

The way they worshipped Paige.Pure devotion. It got under Azzis' skin in ways that made her wanna squirm. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it

Before her brain could stop her, she reached for her phone. Tapped into Instagram

Just out of curiosity.Not intrigue

Her fingers typed the name like it was second nature. As if her name was something she regularly searched

@ paigebueckers

Her profile was clean. Not much personality.Serious.But here and there was the odd personal photo. Still, Azzi kept scrolling as if she were studying a code she couldn’t decipher. Then she stopped

It was just a team photo. The year Stanford won the national championship. Paige was right in the middle, and she was smiling. One that was too real to be a posed smile like in various of her other photos.Real.Genuine.And for a few seconds, Azzi just stared

So there is softness somewhere deep inside.

She zoomed in without a thought, pulling the image wider. As if she would be able to see more of her this way.

Then her thumb betrayed her and double-tapped.

Fuck.

She felt her soul leave her body

Azzis' eyes widened in fear, staring blankly at what she had just done. It wasn’t just any photo. But a photo from three years ago. And Paige would see it at the top of her notifications

Wait. She probably won’t notice. She gets thousands of likes per day. It will be buried in seconds. And she won't see it in time

Azzi set her phone down on the coffee table. And reached for the wine. Planning to finish the bottle to forget what she had just done

But the second the glass lifted to her lips, her phone buzzed

She looked. Her body suddenly felt cold

paigebueckers sent you a message request

No way.No

Her mind raced ahead, imagining the worst. A string of question marks. Or worse, Paige calling her out, sharp and ruthless: “Who the hell are you?” or “Stop creeping on me.”

But when the message loaded, it was nothing like what she expected.

paigebueckers: I didn’t take you to be a Stanford fan.

Her heart fluttered.

In that moment, Azzi Fudd wished she had chosen something stronger than a bottle of wine.

[mels-willow]

helloooo well im feeling a little bitter... so can u write a fic where melissa and reader are hooking up and she gets jealous of r for some reason. they fight, angry smut and bla bla bla but then one of them kinda shuts the other down idk i just dont want a happy ending 🙏🏻🙏🏻 pls

That's All It Was

𝙈𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙖 𝙎𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 —

Smut | angry sex, jealousy, arguing, rejection, no happy ending

Word count | 1.3k

It was supposed to be simple.

Melissa made that clear the first time you tumbled into her apartment — drunk on cheap bar whiskey, drunker still on the way she looked at you. Rough hands, fast kisses, her voice a growl in your ear:

“This ain’t complicated, sweetheart.”

You believed her. At first.

Now? Now it was Tuesday night, your second week in a row spending the night at her place. You were in her shirt, barefoot in the kitchen, watching her cook with that easy swagger that always made your stomach flip.

“Gonna make you somethin’ decent for once,” she muttered, tossing a wink over her shoulder.

You laughed. “I could get used to this.”

Her eyes lingered on you. “Yeah?” she said, too soft, before turning back to the stove.

And that was the first crack.

At school, it got worse.

You weren’t hers — officially — but when you laughed a little too hard at Gregory’s dumb science joke, Melissa’s gaze burned through you from across the lounge.

When Ava grabbed your wrist during a staff meeting, leaning in too close with a smug grin, Melissa slammed her coffee cup down hard enough to make everyone look up.

Later, in the hallway, her grip on your elbow was iron.

“You havin’ fun lettin’ her hang all over you?” she said, low and dangerous.

You blinked. “Melissa, it was nothing—”

“Yeah?” Her jaw tightened. “Looked like somethin’ to me.”

You stared at her, throat dry. “I thought we weren’t—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, storming off.

But you didn’t forget. And neither did she.

You didn’t even make it through the door.

Melissa had texted Come over after school — short, clipped. The second you walked in, her jacket was still on, pacing the living room like a caged thing.

“Hey,” you said cautiously, shutting the door behind you.

Her head snapped up. “Don’t.”

Your heart sank. “What’s going on?”

She stalked closer, eyes dark. “You think I don’t see it?”

You blinked. “See what?”

“Every damn time someone else touches you. Talks to you like they got a chance. You let it happen.”

Your chest tightened. “Melissa—”

“Don’t fuckin’ Melissa me.” Her voice cracked, rough with something sharp. “You let Ava hang all over you today. Had the whole damn lounge lookin’. Like you wanted it.”

You stared, blood rushing in your ears. “It wasn’t—she was messing around. You’re reading into it.”

She laughed, cold and bitter. “Yeah? You think I’m fuckin’ blind?”

You stepped forward, hands shaking now. “Why do you care so much? I thought this was simple, remember?”

The words landed like a slap. Her mouth twisted.

“It was,” she bit out. “Till you started actin’ like you belonged to everybody.”

Your breath caught. “I never said I belonged to you either.”

That did it.

Melissa’s face darkened, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.

“So that’s what this is to you,” she said, voice low and dangerous. “Just fuckin’ around. No matter who’s touchin’ you.”

You swallowed hard, anger flaring hot in your chest. “Maybe if you didn’t treat this like some backroom secret, I wouldn’t have to wonder what the fuck we are.”

Silence.

Then she was on you — grabbing your wrist, backing you against the wall, eyes wild.

“You wanna know what we are?” she growled, chest heaving. “I’ll show you.”

Her mouth crashed onto yours — bruising, angry, desperate.

And even though you were shaking, even though your heart was breaking—

—you kissed her back just as hard.

Your back hit the wall so hard you gasped — Melissa’s hands already under your shirt, dragging it up, mouth biting at your neck.

“You got a smart mouth, sweetheart,” she growled. “Let’s see if you can still run it after this.”

You clawed at her jacket, pulling her impossibly close, anger and heat burning through your veins.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

She laughed darkly. “You wish.”

And then she lifted you — strong arms pinning you to the wall, your legs wrapping around her waist on instinct. Her thigh pressed between your legs, grinding up hard enough to make you whimper despite yourself.

“Yeah,” she muttered, voice thick with something bitter. “That’s what I thought.”

You grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. “You don’t get to—”

Her mouth was on yours before you could finish — all teeth and tongue and bruising want.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she breathed against your lips. “Actin’ like I’m just another fuck, lettin’ people think they got a shot.”

You bit back a sob, hips grinding down on her thigh anyway.

“You don’t own me,” you gasped.

Her eyes blazed. “No? Then why are you drippin’ all over me right now?”

She carried you to the bedroom like you weighed nothing, threw you down on the bed, and stripped you fast and rough — no ceremony, no softness. Just possession.

“Spread ‘em,” she ordered, voice hoarse.

You glared up at her. “Make me.”

A flash of something dark crossed her face — then she was grabbing your thighs, forcing them apart, pinning you down with bruising grip.

“Fine,” she growled. “You want it like that?”

You gasped, arching as her mouth devoured you — no tenderness, just raw hunger, tongue and teeth and punishing rhythm. Your hands fisted the sheets, the tension between fury and need tearing you apart.

“Look at you,” she rasped between licks. “Actin’ like you don’t want me. Drippin’ for me anyway.”

You hated how right she was. Hated how fast your orgasm built, how it ripped through you with a cry you couldn’t bite back.

But she didn’t stop.

She kept going — harder, meaner, until you were sobbing, clawing at her shoulders, begging without even knowing what for.

When she finally pulled back, her mouth was slick, her eyes feral.

“Remember this,” she said, voice low. “Next time you think about lettin’ anyone else touch you.”

You lay there trembling, wrecked, chest heaving — the words already forming on your tongue.

But Melissa was already turning away, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers, her back to you.

And just like that — the warmth was gone.

You lay there a long time, skin burning, heartbeat still stuttering in your chest.

Melissa sat at the edge of the bed, back to you, cigarette burning low between her fingers. She hadn’t looked at you since she’d finished.

Your throat felt raw. You opened your mouth once, twice—couldn’t speak.

Finally, voice shaking: “Melissa...”

Nothing.

You sat up slowly, pulling the sheets around you. “Can we just talk?”

A bitter laugh, sharp and tired. “Now you wanna talk?”

You swallowed. “I didn’t mean—”

She stood suddenly, dragging a hand through her hair.

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t start that shit.”

You flinched.

Melissa exhaled smoke, pacing the room now, restless like she couldn’t stand being near you or away from you.

“This was supposed to be simple,” she muttered. “And now you—you’re in my fuckin’ head all day. Every time I look at you, I just...”

She trailed off, shaking her head.

“Then say it,” you whispered. “Say you want more. We can figure it out—”

Her laugh this time was cold, hollow. “No, sweetheart. You got it wrong.”

Your stomach dropped.

She met your eyes finally — gaze flat, hard.

“This?” she gestured between you. “That’s all it was. A fuck. Nothing more.”

You stared at her, mouth open, the words hitting like a punch.

“Don’t kid yourself,” she added, voice lower now. “You think I’m the type to get wrapped up over someone actin’ like they don’t know what they want?”

Tears stung your eyes. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood.

She grabbed her jacket, already halfway to the door.

“Let yourself out,” was all she said before it clicked shut behind her.

You sat there in the silence, shaking, the sheets around your shoulders suddenly cold and useless.

And this time—

you didn’t chase her.

[sleepgarden-archive]

Hello! I'll be opening my shop tomorrow, I had hoped for a new full illustration but I've been ill and busy with commission work. However, I did make something small, a bookplate design!

I actually wanted to ask for feedback as I prepare them for the shop, I have two options for the book sizes.. 1. I can make them on lustre paper and thus not adhesive (would have to be applied with glue, tape, etc) or 2. I can print them on label paper, which I found to be perfect since it's an actual sticker and thin/lightweight which is great for paperbacks. That said, the lustre paper looks so much nicer 😭

Here they are side by side, the label paper on the left and the lustre on the right (it's a 5x7 print, the book size prints will be in a pack of multiple sizes like the left)

I tested writing my name on the left one ^^; but otherwise I hope you can see! Neither of them are pasted in yet. I'm mostly worried about the quality of how it looks. (And I don't want to offer both to save myself trouble ><....)

Sorry if I've worded this confusingly, essentially what I'm asking is: if you were theoretically ordering these, would you prefer the easy to stick on and lightweight label paper at the expense of the quality of the print? Or would you prefer a better quality print on thicker paper, and have to glue it in yourself?

Regardless, 5x7 lustre paper prints will be available! I think it would be cute to decorate a bookshelf with ♡ I'm specifically talking about the functional bookplates!

[dailygihun]

day 6 || this era lasted like 2 minutes but i love it anyway

[dejasenti99]

psycho drama - a very specific recolor set (for tha boyz)

hello here's those recolors i couldnt shut the fuck up about last night i needed a bunch of shirts for my ocs to wear and urs can too<3

includes (incase u cant read my previews LMAO) : eros' layers - 17 swatches friday hoodie - 10 swatches nerve t-shirt - 15 swatches prey slim-fit - 15 swatches they share most swatches but theres a couple that are only for certain shirts.......its a mixed bag of band shirts and some silly graphics :-) gifs of swatches included!

just to be safe the meshes are not included. get them here: 1 2 3 4 thanks 2 @gorillax3-cc and @sewerwolfx for their lovely meshes <3 eros' shirt includes a sleeve overlay!! it works with both my recolor and the og shirt yippeeee

download them here <3 (drive)

obviously tag me if u use them and lmk if anything is wrong.........its my first time sharing recolors im shy

@sssvitlanz @alwaysfreecc

[hakugreenfinch]

i feel like many peoples mouthwashing analysis is... distorted by a false dichotomy of "good people" and "bad people". "curly is a bad person" "curly is a good person" i feel like trying to determine the characters' morality like santa claus is not exactly the way to think about this game. it makes me think a lot about an excellent video essay on the boy wizard books where op points out that in that world there are "no good or bad actions, only good or bad teams" - that is to say if a character is decided to be "good" they will get away with as much abuse as they like. and i feel like mouthwashing is the opposite of that, there are no "good or bad" people, there are people who do good or bad things and its those things that determine them. you dont have to be a "bad" person to do bad things but also your worst deeds wont brand you irredeemable or deserving of nothing good.

jimmy 100% believes hes not a bad person and bad things just keep happening to him because of everyone else that wont let him be "good", but ultimately hes also just a person that chooses to do more bad than good so if his worst moments dont define him what else is there? everyone else on the ship is more or less aware of their shortcomings and/or simply dont try to categorize themselves like this. swansea is a great example of someone who has given up on trying to be a "good person" and escaped the dichotomy instead of trying to fit himself in a box that doesnt even exist.

i just think discussion around curly would be a lot less heated if we just dealt with the uncomfortable fact that hes not a good or a bad person, hes just a man genuinely trying to do good that keeps failing, for one reason or another. he wants to be good and so does jimmy, we all do, but if we keep focusing too much on being "good people" it becomes a dangerous game.

(also this is why i kinda hate aus and whatnot where jimmy "gets what he deserves", the game makes it very clear that abuse is a bad action that cannot make you better than anyone.)

[r0semultiverse]

From Season 3 Ep9 Revelations Chapter One Live Blog

“The baby was hungry”

“Please you helped me so much since I first got here.”

BOY SHES GONNA EAT YOU ALIVE IF YOU DON’T CUT THIS SHIT OUT 👀

JIM I STG YOU ARE BEING SUCH AN ASS BRO I MEAN RANDALL WAS A DOUCHE BUT STOP PLAYING COP, WE ALREADY GOT THE YT LADY DOING THAT! 😭

Oh thank fuck he’s listening for a change instead of charging in guns blazing.

Oh shit she’s gonna go for the jugular isn’t she?

Please no one shoot the messenger, Sara has done fucked up shit, but she’s helpful.

Weird how Fromville is basically playing them all like chess pieces or one big show or something.

Oh gods please keep cop lady away from Victor. I don’t trust like that.

DONNA IS GAY I KNEW IT (or that’s her sister but listen... VIBESSS)

THATS WHY BOYD IS THE GOAT!!! 🔥

Ellis is hot. I think that a lot, but just wanted to say it. He’s cute.

Someones gonna die today and Elgin's got the final sayyyyy (epic the musical thunder bringer reference yeah)

“I’m a good cop!” For the crowd who usually jokes about participation trophies you sure are giving yourself one. Bruh I wish the monsters got you on the night you arrived. Someone get this pig out of here.

Hey Victor buddyy... hey maybe don't... do that.

Woah kid hi wtf?

You an angry spirit or something boy in white? "because I tried" WELL, TRY AGAIN THEN! If you're gonna stick around fucking help!

Wait no Victor is right, this kid does look different, sounds older too like preteen or teen. wtf is happening?

ELGIN IS GONNA GET CAUGHT IM CALLING IT NOW

Are they gonna do a time skip of some sort before season 5? Idk how I'd feel about that, but i randomly thought of it.

ELGIN SELF REPORT!?!?

ah nvm

oh shit oh fuck

I stg if this shit somehow teleports them I'm gonna be so annoyed

NO, GO IN TOGETHER PLEASE HOLY FUCK

NO NOPE NOPE NOPE FUCK YOU I HATE THAT. GET YOUR BLAIR WITCH PROJECT ASS OUT THE WAY PLEASE

oH THANK FUCK. bruh stg I'm always turning my volume down for shit like this, I hate getting jumpscared.

oh no :((( she saw Victor's mom get eaten by jerma

[hollow-vok]

Random sketches of Solya :3

I need him, but in a non-romantic way, I can't explain it...I just want to grab his sleeve like Agnieszka did in one chapter...its ridiculous how much I love him

[pink-toonss]

Hm

[neviixi]

sorry for being ia i have a lot going on rn

[mac33cheese]

Okay hear me out on this one, Saiki kusou having a mental breakdown and age regressing

I mean shape shifting into a kid and mentally age regressing, using his old diy robot toy as a comfort object

I imagine this break down being Post Meteor but it could really be after any traumatic event

And the breakdown is sorta from a realization that of he doesn't have his powers he can't stop crisis from happening (volcano, nendo time loop, meteor, ANY of the things he has to stop when he has those dreams followed by headaches, ect) but having his powers also gives him a very hard time (guilt of the valcano time loop, Akechi incident, and just the general struggles he shows that having his powers come with).

so he sorta breaks down really bad, and his resort? Age regression. Not necessarily healthy age regression at first but I feel like if this were to be something he uses more often then he would learn how to use this as a healthy way to cope. But let me explain why age regression (should add that I am not very educated on age regression, so please feel free to correct me on literally ANYTHING I say)

It's pretty clear saiki was happier as a kid, I mean not entirely but theres DEFINITELY a difference there. In my opinion he seemed a bit more carefree? That may not be the right way to explain it but I think you can get the picture. I think he would find comfort in how his mindset was during that time. I just feel this cope would work pretty well for him (although it's pretty ooc I think) but I think he wouldnt use it in a healthy way at first, I'm not sure how to explain it.

Anyways this is just an angst headcanon idea, age regression saiki gng

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[vee-lociraptor]

been real emotional about a year of audio drama for me today because like. without audio drama i never wouldve had to go onto pinterest to find what i could about my things i never would have found some of the people that eventually led me to getting a tumblr. wouldnt have joined the discord wouldnt have met any of the absolutely wonderful people i know now. i never had much of a safe space to discuss and really feel my interests before because i would always get so so excited about them that i threw people off and to have that now means the world to me actually.

[seilon]

there’s the iconic early wtnv weather songs (the bus is late, high tide rising) that everyone’s gotta like but then i feel like everyone’s got one that’s like. THEIR wtnv weather song. anyway mine’s absentee by jack campbell

[danielnelsen]

so if you romance and ascend astarion you can kick him in the balls when he tries to turn you and it’s just very funny, he’s so pissy about it. so much for the most powerful vampire of all time or whatever, he stamps around like a toddler and then leaves forever

[ywpd-translations]

(Heads up, Yowapeda is going on a bit of a hiatus for the next three weeks! So there will be no new chapter until 8/3!)

Ride 737: New pedals

Pag 1

3: New... “pedals”

4: Yeah

Pag 2

1: Try using them

You'll probably be able to use them!!

Pag 3

2: Huh

3: …..!! Be able to use them!?

4: The.... pedals!?

5: Rokudai-kun

Ye-yessir, teh

The senpai of my senpai, the “super senpai”!!

6: Sorry but could you please bring here Onoda's bike?

Pag 4

1: Yessir!! Right away!!

3: So fast

3: Here!!

Thank you

Thanks

He's really so fast!! As expected of his hardcore manager spirit!!

Pag 5

1: Waaaa.... I officially touched Back-ga-.... Onoda-san's bike....!!

Why are you being all bashful by yourself now, Rokudai....

2: I'll install them right away

3: Ah-uhm

4: Uhm.... actually

I can't accept them

7: Teh!?

Onoda-san refused them..!!

Pag 6

1: You purposely cam here to encourage us, you even offered me a drink – I can't accept the “pedals” too, in addition to that!!

2: You even greeted the first years

That's plenty, thank you so much!

Onoda-san....

4: Is that so?

Yes!!

5: I thought they would suit you, Onoda, but..

Pag 7

1: I- I wanted to see the new pedals, teh...

He said “he'll be able to use them”, I wonder what that meant

2: Maybe the shape is different?

Maybe they're difficult to use? Like there are two on both sides

How would you even step on them, teh

3: I actually got these for myself....

4: With my style of pedaling I tend to lose torque near the limit, so I tried using these

5: But it didn't suit me

So I went back to use the old pedals

7: And while doing so I suddenly thought

8: That you, Onoda... your pedals

Pag 8

1: How long has it been since you last changed them...?

2: Huh

6: The pedals used for bicycles racing are consumable

Pag 9

1: When you fall, they're the first thing that hit the ground, and they're shaved by the impact

2: The structure is simple but surprisingly useful, but still metal isn't perfect

3: They receive the torque and the force from the legs, so you can say the pedals are one of the most important part of a bike

And there's no guarantee they'll never break right during an important race

4: A race...!!

5: Of course you usually bring your bike to Touji-san, and I don't think he'd fail to notice something like this

6: But, has it ever happened before that your feet unfastened during an important moment and you had troubles because of it?

Pag 10

2: …. during the Inter High's third day... at the end...

Yes, it happened....

3: You fought in the Inter High twice

4: You ran in the prefectural qualifiers, every day you use your bike for practice

5: And you're overusing it now during training camp

6: When they'll break it won't be surprising

Onoda, sometimes.... caring... isn't just about the club members....

Pag 11

1: It's about your own bike, too!!

2: The pedals I received from Teshima-san on that rainy day during training camp onmy first year

3: I asked Touji-san to fix them on my new bike, since they were important to me

5: Looking closely, they're all ruined

Pag 12

1: The bike that connects me to everyone

And what connects me to this bike

2: The pedals

3: You went to the Inter High with the pedals I gave you, and you delievered our jersey to the final gate in the end

4: Twice

And I, who gave you those pedals, also am happy and want to thank you

5: But, it's enough

They carried out their role perfectly

Pag 13

1: Let them rest

3: Waaa it's already this late!? That's bad, I got a lecture tomorrow next period

4: I have to go back!

Th- that's bad!

5: …. ah, but you refused these new pedals. I can't give them to you... you said

Ah- wa-

Ahh, what should I do

Ah-

6: Well it can't be helped

Pag 14

1: I'll forget them in the lobby and leave

4: Do your best during this training camp!

Yes- thank you so much for coming here!!

5: Say hi to the others for me, too

6: Share those with everyone and eat them

Pag 15

1: Thank you so much...!!

If you speak so loudly you'll wake everyone...

He....

He's such a nice senpai...

2: I could see ans feel the Sohoku bond, teh!!

Righ!! It's so strong!!

3: I'll change them now

4: The pedals!!

6: I wonder what kind are they, teh, these new pedals!

He said “you'll be able to use them”!?

7: Huh!?

These are the pedals!?

It's the first time I see them in this shape, the... the tip...

Pag 16

1: is round!!

Pag 17

1: The part where I put my feet is a round pedal...!!

2: Amazing, since this pedal is round

3: I can move my heel left and right

4: With incredibly wide movements!!

5: My ankles... and my knees are incredibly free to move!!

And also, these pedals...

Pag 18

1: They feel so close to the sole of my feet

2: I feel like I can turn my pedals so much more like this!!

3: Thank you so much, Teshima-san!!

Pag 19

1: Have you noticed, Hotshot?

Onoda-kun's....

Yeah, his pedals are new

2: “Speed play”

3: It's the only kind of pedal in the world that has the cleat and fastening mechanism on the side

4: Your legs' range of motion left and right becomes wider, so when you're swinging the bike you can still under all circumstances pedal at an high cadence and apply torque

It's perfect for Onoda's pedaling style

5: Was it Touj-san?

Who knows... I sense some kind of intention behind the guess of giving him those pedals

6: And from those donuts lineup choice, maybe

Pag 20

1: It was Teshima-san!!

2: Onoda....!! Pedal, until your limit

3: I told you before...!! I want to see

4: How strong you can become!!