#it will make finding stuff MUCH easier i think

[pigeonentity]

yeah honestly it was the same for me

i chose two art subjects bc i just can't get myself to study most of the time and never enough for it to actually do something. i did struggle with having to manage my own work more for gcse art, but im finding it easier at college because we've got the time when we don't have lessons to work, so it's easy to set it in my head as "work time: do your art/graphics stuff" so that's still a sort of schedule whereas in high school i struggled to split my time between free time and schoolwork

in terms of having more decisions to make, your teachers should still talk you through it and be able to help. idk how much freedom you get in most subjects i think art as a coursework based subject is probably more so than others but for that we still get help with how to make choices with what we want to do even if in the end we decide ourselves. in art we've gone through a lot of different stuff before deciding so we have a better idea of what we like

also, for me, at least, ive gotten a lot more feedback on my work at college than i did at high school

it is a Lot but your teachers should help you with the transition and overall it is much more enjoyable than high school (also if you need help w anything college related next year lmk)

[theseh00perscanh00p]

Par for the Heart: Part 12

paige x azzi

a/n: This one was another emotional roller coaster, so sorry in advance. Contains some sexual content. Let me know your reactions and feedback and how many parts do we think this should be lol

word count: 10.4k

"Home for the Holidays (and Everything That Came With It)"

Even without snow, the city buzzed with a low hum of December—storefronts glowing, traffic lights blinking red and green, and the air holding a soft kind of anticipation. Their house smelled faintly of pine and gingerbread from the candle Azzi had insisted on lighting that morning. A box of half-wrapped presents sat open on the coffee table, scraps of festive paper curling at the corners. Christmas jazz hummed from the speaker in the background, and the heat kicked on just as Azzi sank onto the couch beside Paige.

But something in her didn’t settle.

She watched Paige scribble something on a gift tag—To Drew, from both of us—and swallowed hard.

Paige didn’t notice at first. Not until Azzi reached for the tape and missed it completely, fingers fumbling against the edge of the couch cushion like her mind had drifted somewhere far off.

“You good?” Paige asked, quiet, but not casual.

Azzi hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I mean—no. I don’t know.”

That was enough for Paige to turn fully toward her, pen forgotten.

“What’s going on?”

Azzi looked at her for a long moment, expression almost sheepish. “I just realized… I don’t know that much about your family.”

Paige blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re about to go spend the holidays with them, and I know their names, and you’ve told me little stories, but… I don’t really know them. Not the way you know mine.”

Paige softened immediately. “Az…”

“I feel kind of shitty about it,” Azzi admitted. “Like I’ve just been enjoying this version of you that lives here with me and works out with me and makes cinnamon toast on Sundays, but I haven’t asked enough about where you came from. And now we’re heading straight into all of that, and I just—what if I get it wrong?”

Paige reached for her hand, thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That’s on me.”

Azzi looked skeptical. “How?”

“Because I didn’t offer it up,” Paige said. Her voice was steady, but there was something quieter under it. “I’ve spent a long time keeping all of that��� at arm’s length. The mess. The hard stuff.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed.

“My family’s not bad,” Paige continued. “Just complicated. My parents split when I was young. And they didn’t just split—they detonated. Like, courtrooms and custody battles and new marriages within a year kind of detonated.”

Azzi squeezed her hand, staying silent.

“I spent a lot of years trying to be the neutral party. The fixer. The one who kept the peace. I think I got good at pretending none of it hurt. So even now, it’s just… easier not to talk about it.”

Azzi’s heart ached. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Paige gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know. I’m trying. I really am. But don’t beat yourself up for not knowing something I haven’t let anyone close enough to find out.”

“I want to be close enough,” Azzi whispered.

“I know,” Paige said, and this time, she smiled for real. “And you are.”

They sat in the quiet hum of the holidays for a few moments longer, fingers laced, wrapping paper forgotten.

“Okay,” Azzi said finally. “So maybe over the next few days, you tell me a story or two. Anything you want. Good or bad. I’ll take it all.”

Paige nodded. “Deal.”

Then, softly, “And just so you know—you’re gonna be great. My family’s complicated, but you… you’re solid.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, the weight in her chest easing.

“Okay then,” she said. “Let’s go do complicated.”

Paige leaned in, kissed her temple. “Together.”

—-

The rain had started that afternoon—gentle at first, just enough to gloss the windows of the house in a thin, shimmering layer. Now it was a soft backdrop to the evening, a rhythmic hush against the glass as Paige and Azzi sat on the couch, wrapped in the familiar comfort of shared silence.

Azzi’s head rested in Paige’s lap, long legs sprawled out over the cushions, while Paige absentmindedly played with a loose curl. The warmth between them was easy, familiar.

But tonight, something about the way Paige moved—just a little slower, a little more distant in her eyes—made Azzi pause.

“You good?” Azzi asked softly, fingers brushing Paige’s thigh.

Paige hesitated. Just long enough for Azzi to notice.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” she admitted. “About… what you said earlier, how little you actually know about my family background.”

Azzi sat up gently, giving her space but staying close. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready for.”

Paige shook her head. “I want to. You deserve to know. I just… I’ve spent so much of my life trying to unlearn it, I think I forgot how to talk about it.”

Azzi waited.

Paige took a deep breath, then let it go slow.

“My mom is… a narcissist,” she said plainly, like it was a fact she’d rehearsed. “It took me a long time to say that out loud. But it’s true. Everything in our house was always about her—her mood, her approval, her disappointment. You learn to shrink around people like that. To contort yourself into what makes them comfortable.”

Azzi reached for her hand, holding it gently between hers.

“I remember once—” Paige’s voice caught, but she kept going. “I got into this big junior tournament. It was the first time a scout was going to come see me play. I was twelve. I was so proud. And all she could say was that I needed to ‘tone it down’ because I looked like I was showing off in the video they filmed. She said, ‘You’ll make people hate you if you’re too good.’ Like she couldn’t stand me being good at something unless it made her look good.”

Azzi didn’t speak, just rubbed her thumb across Paige’s knuckles.

“My dad wasn’t… cruel like her. Just… quiet. Detached. Like he never knew what to do when things got loud or painful. I used to think he didn’t care, but now I know he just didn’t know how to show up. He finally apologized to me, after I moved to LA. Said he was sorry for not being better, for not seeing me.”

Paige paused. “We’re closer now, I guess. But it still feels like something’s unfinished.”

Azzi’s eyes softened. “That’s why you’re so soft with me,” she whispered. “Why you listen so hard. Why you notice the little things.”

Paige nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Because I know what it feels like to grow up in a house where no one sees you clearly. I swore I’d never make someone I love feel that way.”

Azzi leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You don’t. I’ve never felt more seen.”

They sat there a long while—Azzi with her hand on Paige’s knee, Paige with her heart cracked just enough to let more light in.

“I’m still learning how to trust that what we have is real,” Paige admitted quietly. “Some days I catch myself waiting for it to go sideways. But then you do something small—like today, when you remembered my dumb iced coffee order without asking—and it reminds me: not everything has to be hard.”

Azzi smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Paige’s ear. “We’ll keep making it easy. Together.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall, soft and steady like a promise.

And inside, Paige felt—maybe for the first time—like she didn’t have to carry any of it alone.

Paige’s thumb traced idle circles on the hem of the throw blanket draped across her lap. The rain hadn’t let up, but it suited the moment—like the world outside knew it wasn’t meant to interrupt.

Azzi was still curled close, listening with the kind of presence that made Paige feel like every word she spoke landed somewhere safe.

“There was this night,” Paige said, her voice quiet. “I think I was around eleven. My mom and dad had this screaming match in the kitchen—about bills or him getting home late or something. I’d just come home from practice. I remember standing at the front door, frozen, golf bag still on my back.”

Azzi watched her closely, barely breathing.

“I didn’t go in,” Paige continued. “I sat on the porch for three hours. It was freezing, but I didn’t care. I kept thinking: If they can’t get it together, what chance do I have?”

Azzi’s heart ached.

“That night,” Paige said slowly, “I decided I’d never yell in a relationship. That I’d never slam a door. That I’d always make the people I love feel chosen. Not tolerated.”

She blinked hard, like something was clawing its way out from years of being buried.

“I started keeping a journal around then—filled it with all the ways I’d want to be loved one day. Dumb things, like: asks how my day was even if I don’t say anything first, or doesn’t make me beg for attention.”

Azzi reached out and gently laced their fingers together.

“I think I became so soft,” Paige whispered, “because I had to be my own safe place for so long. And now with you… I get to share it.”

Azzi leaned forward, kissing her hand. “You’re still that safe place. But now you don’t have to be it alone.”

There was a pause, one of those full silences.

“Did you ever tell anyone this before?” Azzi asked.

Paige shook her head. “I’ve hinted. KK probably knows more than she lets on. But no, not like this.”

“I’m honored,” Azzi said softly. “I mean that.”

Paige gave a half-smile. “I think part of me was afraid if I said it out loud, it would make it too real. Like I’d have to admit how much of me was shaped by things I never asked for.”

“You didn’t deserve any of it,” Azzi said. “But you still became someone good. That’s not a coincidence.”

Paige turned her head, blinking down at her. “You really think I’m good?”

Azzi’s voice didn’t waver. “I think you’re the best person I know.”

The words landed heavy and warm, the kind of weight that didn’t hurt—but held.

And Paige, who’d spent years quieting herself, felt something shift. Like a knot finally loosening in the center of her chest.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead to Azzi’s.

“I love you,” she said, not like a confession—but like a truth finally safe enough to rest in.

Azzi smiled. “I know. And I love you right back.”

Rain tapped softly on the windows. The blanket settled warmer around them. And Paige, in the quiet of their home, felt something new and unfamiliar.

Peace.

They were still tucked on the couch, Paige’s legs stretched over Azzi’s lap, the city outside their windows a blur of lights behind the rain.

Paige shifted slightly, her fingers picking at a loose thread in the throw pillow beside her. “There’s another one,” she said after a while. “A memory. It’s small, but it kind of… stuck with me.”

Azzi looked up from where she’d been trailing gentle circles on Paige’s shin. “Tell me.”

Paige drew in a breath, eyes going soft with distance. “I had this elementary school awards ceremony—third grade, I think. I was getting something for perfect attendance, or reading… whatever it was, I was proud. And I remember standing on that little stage, looking out into the crowd.”

She paused.

“My mom had forgotten. She was supposed to come, but she didn’t show. My dad picked up a shift. So when they called my name, I walked across that stage to this auditorium of strangers. No clapping from anyone I knew. No pictures.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. “Paige…”

“I didn’t cry or anything. I just smiled for the photo and kept it moving.” She gave a short laugh. “Later that night, I taped the award to the fridge myself.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt—just listened.

“I think… that’s the moment something in me changed. Like, if I ever got the chance to be in someone’s corner, I’d never let them wonder if I was proud. Or if I’d show up.”

Azzi was quiet for a long beat, her eyes holding Paige’s. “And you’ve kept that promise. For everyone. For me.”

“I try,” Paige said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I think it’s why I go so hard for the people I love. I just… remember how it felt when no one showed up. I’d rather overdo it than let someone feel that way.”

Azzi leaned forward and kissed her, slow and certain. “You never have to do that alone again.”

“I know,” Paige whispered against her lips. “But sometimes it still feels like I do. Like I have to earn the good things.”

Azzi touched her cheek gently. “Not with me. You don’t have to earn a damn thing with me.”

They sat in that moment—two hearts, unlearning old survival instincts together. Paige didn’t say anything right away. But her body softened, just a little. Her head dropped to Azzi’s shoulder, and her breath eased out like she was finally setting something down.

A part of her would probably always carry that little girl, standing on a stage with no one in the crowd.

But now… someone was in the crowd. Always. And she was sitting right beside her.

—-

It was late in the evening, the night before their flight, and the house glowed with a gentle kind of stillness. The Christmas tree lights blinked quietly in the corner—soft whites and golds casting a calm warmth across the living room. The suitcase lay open on the rug, half-zipped, surrounded by folded clothes, tangled chargers, and a few scattered gift bags.

Paige sat cross-legged on the floor, tucking a final sweater into the side pocket, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

Behind her, Azzi moved around the space with the easy comfort of someone at home—folding the throw blanket over the back of the couch, checking the thermostat, turning off lights in the kitchen. She returned with quiet footsteps and sat behind Paige, wrapping her arms gently around her waist and resting her chin on Paige’s shoulder.

“You’ve packed this bag like six times,” Azzi murmured with a small smile. “What are we forgetting?”

Paige laughed under her breath. “Nothing, probably. I’m just… I don’t know. Making sure it all feels right.”

She leaned into Azzi’s hold slightly, her hands stilling on the zipper. The weight of anticipation hung in the air, not heavy, but full.

“You sure you still want to do the split?” Paige asked softly, her voice brushing against the quiet. “Christmas with your family, New Year’s with mine?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “That’s what we decided, right?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, nodding slowly. “I just… It’s a lot. My family’s… a lot. I’ve never brought someone into all of it before. And not just for a visit—for a whole thing.”

Azzi shifted beside her, brushing a piece of hair behind Paige’s ear. “It’s not just your family anymore. It’s us, now. Our holidays.”

Paige blinked, her heart catching in her chest at the word our. She smiled faintly, voice quiet. “That sounds really good when you say it like that.”

“It is good,” Azzi said. “It’s what we’ve been building. You don’t have to brace yourself for it alone.”

Paige exhaled, the tension softening in her shoulders just a little. “It’s strange… how easy this has all felt. Us. This place. The rhythms we’ve fallen into. I keep waiting for the shoe to drop.”

Azzi kissed her shoulder. “I think maybe this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Not easy because it’s perfect—but easy because it’s right.”

They were quiet for a beat, both absorbing the stillness before the whirlwind of travel and family noise and overlapping traditions.

Then Paige smiled, just a little. “Okay. Let’s do this. One more check: chargers, pajamas, your grandma’s gift, and… oh, the travel snacks.”

“I already packed them,” Azzi said proudly.

“You’re amazing.”

“I know.”

Paige leaned back into her, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m really glad it’s you.”

Azzi squeezed her waist gently. “It was always going to be me.”

The moment stretched—soft, warm, and real. The tree lights blinked quietly beside them, and outside, the city buzzed in preparation for the holiday rush. But in here, it was still. Steady. Chosen.

Tomorrow would bring airports and family hugs and all the chaos that came with showing someone the people and places that made you who you were.

But tonight… it was just them.

Home, in the truest sense of the word.

—-

Azzi’s family home smelled like cinnamon and butter the second they walked in—someone had clearly been baking for hours, and based on the tray of cookies already sitting on the entryway table, it was only just beginning.

“Backpacks off. Coats off. Mouths open,” Azzi’s aunt called from the kitchen without even turning around. “We’re taste testing batches today.”

Paige laughed, arms still halfway through her coat sleeves. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Azzi grinned. “Auntie Mel is in finals week mode. She’s not playing around.”

Within minutes, Paige had been pulled into the kitchen by two of Azzi’s cousins, offered a spatula covered in frosting, and then interrogated by Azzi’s uncle about how many layers she was packing for the family sledding tournament tomorrow.

“Layers save lives,” he declared solemnly, slapping a hand on her shoulder. “And don’t let Azzi fool you, she cheats. Waxes her sled.”

“I do not!” Azzi shouted from the living room, already helping untangle a string of lights while her grandma shouted commentary from her armchair.

Paige watched the chaos unfold with a soft kind of wonder. It was noisy. Messy. Beautiful. The kind of holiday energy you didn’t just feel—you waded through. And she had been welcomed in like she was already part of it all.

Azzi leaned against the wall beside her, elbow brushing Paige’s. “Overwhelmed yet?”

“A little,” Paige admitted, grinning. “But, like, in a good way. You were not kidding about Christmas being a sport in this house.”

Azzi smirked. “We don’t do casual.”

They spent the next several days tucked into the soft center of every family event imaginable. Cookie decorating turned into competitive snowman-building. They went ice skating and Paige somehow ended up racing Azzi’s younger cousins (and lost). Azzi’s grandma insisted on teaching Paige how to make traditional family recipes—while loudly declaring Paige was “too pretty to not know how to roll dough right.”

At night, Paige and Azzi curled up on the guest bed under a ridiculous holiday quilt, whispering and giggling like kids at a sleepover.

“I haven’t laughed this much in ages,” Paige whispered one night as they lay tangled together, the sound of wind and distant carolers leaking in from the frosty windows.

Azzi smiled sleepily. “They love you, you know.”

“I love them too,” Paige said, voice low. “And I love you.”

Azzi looked over at her, brushing her nose against Paige’s. “Merry almost-Christmas, P.”

“Merry almost-Christmas, Baby” Paige whispered back, heart full in a way she hadn’t even known she needed.

The next morning the house smelled like vanilla and something buttery in the oven. Holiday jazz played low from a speaker in the corner, barely audible over the flurry of voices and laughter filling every room. The fireplace cracked and popped beneath stockings too full to hang properly, and outside, snow blanketed the porch steps, undisturbed but glittering under the pale morning sun.

Paige stood tucked beside Azzi in the living room, mug of hot cocoa in her hands, watching as Azzi’s little cousins tore into wrapping paper like it was a sport. One of them held up a gift and shouted across the room, “Azzi, look what I got!” before immediately turning to Paige with just as much excitement: “Did you see?!”

Paige smiled, lifting her mug in salute. “Elite gift. You crushed it.”

Across the couch, Azzi’s uncle had fallen asleep halfway through his second cinnamon roll, and her aunt was bustling in and out with trays of food and plates of cookies she kept insisting people “just try one more of.” Wrapping paper littered the rug, and Paige had a fuzzy red bow stuck to the hem of her sweater that Azzi kept pretending not to see.

Azzi’s mom handed Paige a neatly wrapped box with a knowing smile. “For you, sweetie. From all of us.”

Paige blinked. “Wait—me?”

“Of course,” Azzi’s mom said, sliding an arm around her. “You’re family now, aren’t you?”

Paige’s heart skipped. The box felt heavier than it was—sentiment wrapped in ribbon.

Azzi leaned in and kissed the top of Paige’s shoulder. “Open it.”

Inside was a quilt—soft, oversized, clearly handmade. Sewn into the corner was a patch embroidered with a golf ball and a tiny heart. Paige ran her fingers over it like it might disappear if she looked away too long.

“Azzi told us you get cold all the time,” her aunt chimed in from the armchair. “And figured you might want something to keep at your place… or ours.”

It was said so casually. Yours… or ours. Like both belonged to her now.

Paige swallowed against the tightness in her throat, unsure how to respond without crying. “This is… beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re stuck with us now,” Azzi’s brother called from the corner with a wink.

Azzi pulled her close and whispered, “Told you they’d love you.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just leaned into Azzi’s side, tucked under her arm, and let herself be held by a family that made space for her—not just as Azzi’s girlfriend, but as someone who belonged.

Later that night, once the little ones were tucked in Paige caught Azzi in the hallway and whispered, “You still wanna do our gifts just us, right?”

Azzi nodded, a smile tucked behind tired eyes. “Just us.”

The fireplace was low and flickering, casting a golden hue over the living room. Azzi sat cross-legged in front of the tree, still wearing the oversized hoodie Paige had loaned her earlier that morning—her curls up in a messy bun, a little tinsel caught in one strand from helping the younger cousins redecorate after they’d knocked half the ornaments off during a game of tag.

Paige walked in carrying two neatly wrapped boxes and two glasses of red wine. She handed one to Azzi with a wink.

“This is the adult Christmas. Just us.”

Azzi smiled, her free hand brushing against Paige’s as she took the glass. “Finally. I love you, but if I had to watch one more Elf re-run with a six-year-old on my neck—”

Paige chuckled. “You love it.”

Azzi tilted her head. “I love you, being here for it. That’s different.”

Paige set their gifts on the rug between them and sat down, cross-legged, mirroring Azzi.

“Okay,” Paige said, suddenly a little shy. “Which one of us is going first?”

Azzi reached forward and nudged the smaller box toward Paige. “You.”

Paige gave her a look. “You sure?”

Azzi nodded. “I need to see your face when you open it.”

Paige peeled back the paper slowly—deliberately—revealing a black leather photo album with their initials embossed on the cover. Inside were printed photos from the past several months: candids from Azzi’s family lake house, a blurry one from the WNBA homecoming game, tournament selfies, Paige in a golf cart mid-laugh, Azzi icing her knee with a dramatic pout.

And on the final page—a picture of the two of them, curled up on the couch from just a week ago, captioned in Azzi’s handwriting:

“My favorite place to be is wherever you are.”

Paige didn’t say anything for a long moment—just flipped back to the beginning and stared, her fingertips brushing across each image like they were sacred.

When she finally looked up, her voice was thick. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this.”

Azzi shrugged, trying not to get emotional herself. “I just… I wanted us to have something to remember it all. Our first everything. In case one day we forget what the beginning looked like.”

Paige leaned forward and kissed her softly. “I’ll never forget.”

Azzi whispered, “Me either.”

Paige cleared her throat and reached behind her for her own box. “Okay. Your turn.”

Azzi tore the paper with far less grace—grinning as she opened the box to find… another, smaller box inside.

She shot Paige a look. “If this is a prank—”

“It’s not,” Paige promised.

Azzi opened the smaller box and gasped.

Inside was a custom silver pendant necklace—simple, delicate. On the front: the coordinates of where they’d met for the first time at the celebrity golf tournament. On the back, etched so small she had to hold it up to the light to read it:

“The moment I found you.”

Azzi stared at it, completely still.

Paige’s voice was soft. “I wanted to mark the exact place everything changed for me. Because the truth is, Az… I didn’t know what real love was supposed to feel like until I looked at you across that damn green and thought, I hope she talks to me.”

Azzi pressed the pendant to her lips. Her eyes were shimmering now, but she didn’t cry. Not yet.

“You said I gave you a place to belong,” she said quietly. “But you gave me a future I actually want to run toward.”

Paige reached for her hand. “So… this is our beginning. And I hope every Christmas after this one, we get to look back and say, that’s where it all really started.”

Azzi nodded, leaning in.

And this kiss wasn’t about heat, or need, or playfulness.

It was reverent. Soft. The kind of kiss that said: I’ll remember this. All of it. Always.

And when they pulled apart, Azzi looped the necklace around her neck and whispered,

“Now I get to carry you with me, everywhere.”

—-

The drive after landing in Minnesota to her mom’s house was quiet—not tense, just filled with the kind of silence that said this matters. Azzi reached over more than once, squeezing Paige’s thigh, brushing her pinky against Paige’s hand on the gearshift, all quiet reassurances that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

But as they pulled into the familiar driveway, Paige’s stomach twisted like it had when she was seventeen and about to ask for permission to move out.

Azzi noticed. Of course she did.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

Paige stared at the front door. “Yeah. Just… nerves. It’s been a while since I was here.”

“You don’t have to do this for anyone else.”

“I know,” Paige said. “But I want to do it for me.”

She stepped out of the car with resolve, Azzi close behind. As they reached the door, Paige took a breath and raised her hand to knock.

Her mother opened it a beat later, all lip-gloss smiles and over-rehearsed warmth.

“Paige! Finally,” she said, her voice sugary. Her eyes flicked to Azzi. “And you must be Azzi—how lovely to meet you.”

Azzi smiled and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Jones.”

“Oh please, call me Amy,” her mother said, her voice a little too bright. “Come in, come in.”

Paige could feel the shift immediately—the performance, the pleasantries, the way her mom’s eyes skimmed over the subtle closeness between her and Azzi like she was pretending not to see it.

But then her little sister, Lauren, darted out from the hallway, practically launching into Paige’s arms.

“Paaaiiige!” she squealed. “You’re finally here!”

Paige crouched to hug her tight, heart already softening.

“I missed you so much, bug.”

Her younger brother, Ryan, followed with more reserved energy but just as much joy. “Hey, Azzi,” he said, surprising her. “I watched your last game before the injury. You’re a beast.”

Azzi laughed, genuinely. “Thanks, man. I’ve been trying to heal up fast.”

The evening settled into a soft rhythm. Dinner was calm. Lauren wouldn’t leave Azzi’s side, showing her drawings and asking about basketball. Ryan asked Paige about golf. For a moment, it all felt… okay.

Then came the party.

Amy’s holiday parties weren’t warm. They were curated. Everything from the wine selection to the jazz playing quietly through the sound system felt like it had been chosen to impress, not embrace. The guest list was a collection of polished people with perfect shoes and polite smiles—coworkers, clients, acquaintances who referred to each other by full names and job titles.

Paige had been to enough of these as a teenager to know how to survive them: smile tight, speak little, and don’t get in Amy’s way. But tonight, she wasn’t alone.

Azzi stood beside her in a cream sweater, her curls swept back, her presence effortlessly grounded in a room full of artifice. Paige hadn’t let go of her hand once—not out of nerves, but because holding it reminded her she didn’t have to shrink herself here anymore. Not tonight.

But then it happened.

They were near the mantel, Paige introducing Azzi to a vaguely familiar finance guy and his wife, when a woman in a sharp red coat turned to Amy with a warm smile and said, “Isn’t it lovely having your daughter home for the holidays?”

Amy smiled—glossy, polished. Too practiced.

“Oh yes,” she said smoothly, setting down her glass of prosecco. “Paige brought her friend Azzi—she’s an athlete too.”

Friend.

The word detonated in Paige’s chest like a slow-burning fuse.

She didn’t react at first—just blinked, like maybe she heard it wrong. But the look on Azzi’s face told her she hadn’t. Her jaw had gone tight, shoulders pulling in slightly. It was the kind of tension Paige had seen on her just before big games—when something unfair had happened and Azzi had to choose whether to react or rise above.

Paige stepped forward.

“Actually,” she said, steady but pointed, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

The conversation around them didn’t stop, but it might as well have.

“We’ve been together almost a year now,” Paige added, her voice ringing just loud enough.

The woman in red blinked, surprised but polite. “Oh! That’s lovely.”

Amy didn’t speak. But her smile faltered, her fingers tightening slightly around the stem of her glass. Her expression was unreadable, but Paige recognized the flicker behind her eyes: disapproval dressed up in restraint.

As the woman moved on to greet someone else, Amy turned toward Paige with a practiced smile stretched too thin.

“Could you not make a scene?” she hissed, voice low but biting. “This isn’t the time.”

Paige stared at her. “You mean it’s not the time to acknowledge who I love?”

Amy’s mouth flattened. “I didn’t want to have to explain your situation to every guest—”

“My situation?” Paige’s voice cut through, sharp now. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

Amy glanced around, eyes scanning the room like she was afraid someone might be watching.

“This is my home,” she said, voice tight.

“And this is my life,” Paige snapped. “Azzi is not a phase or a detail you get to rewrite. You don’t get to parade me around like some polished success story and then strip away the parts that don’t fit your image.”

Amy’s jaw clenched. “Paige—please don’t make this difficult.”

“I’m not,” Paige said, voice trembling with restraint. “You are. And you don’t have to like every part of who I am, but you will respect the person I love.”

A beat passed.

Then Azzi appeared, her presence grounding the tension instantly. She placed a gentle hand at the small of Paige’s back, looking between them.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, already knowing it wasn’t.

Amy opened her mouth, but Paige was faster. “We were just clarifying something,” she said, turning toward Azzi. “That my life—and the person I choose—isn’t up for debate.”

Amy didn’t reply. Her silence—so often a tool of power—felt like an admission this time.

Paige turned to Azzi, nodding toward the back of the house. “Let’s go sit with Lauren and Ryan.”

Azzi nodded, slipping her hand into Paige’s as they walked away. Her touch was steady. Unwavering.

Later that night, in the quiet of the guest room with only the soft hum of wind outside the window, Paige lay on her back staring at the ceiling. Azzi was curled into her side, warm and quiet.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then Azzi said, “You didn’t deserve that.”

Paige swallowed. “Neither did you.”

Azzi shifted, brushing her thumb over Paige’s hand. “You don’t always have to shield me, you know.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “But when she tries to make me smaller… it’s you that reminds me I don’t have to be.”

Azzi kissed her temple. “I’ve got you. All of you.”

And this time, Paige didn’t argue. She just held on tighter.

Because maybe this wasn’t the home that held her best—but wrapped in Azzi’s arms, she had never felt more claimed. More chosen.

More seen.

The following morning sun spilled through gauzy curtains, but there was no warmth in the kitchen.

Paige sat stiffly at the breakfast bar, stirring her coffee long after the cream had settled. Azzi stood nearby, leaning silently against the counter, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, watching Paige like she might shatter.

Across from them, Amy moved around the kitchen with a kind of deliberate efficiency, pulling plates from the cabinets, buttering toast, as if nothing had happened the night before.

As if she hadn’t called her daughter’s relationship a situation.

As if her silence hadn’t said everything.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Amy finally said, breaking the quiet.

Paige set her mug down with a soft clink. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“Well, good,” Amy said too quickly. “Because I think it’s unfair of you to expect me to change who I am just to accommodate—”

“To accommodate the fact that I’m in love with someone?” Paige cut in, voice low but firm.

Amy didn’t meet her eyes. “To accommodate the way you push everything into the spotlight.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“You introduced my girlfriend as my friend,” Paige said, not angrily—but with a cool, sad finality. “You erased her in a room full of people who claim to know me. And you’ve been doing it for years in your own quiet way.”

Amy turned, arms folded. “This is my house.”

“Exactly,” Paige said. “It’s your house. It’s never been mine.”

Azzi flinched, just barely, at the quiet devastation in her voice.

Paige stood up, hands steady now.

“We’ll leave after breakfast,” she said, not as a threat—but a boundary drawn in permanent marker. “You don’t want us here. That’s clear. So we won’t stay where we’re not welcome.”

Just then, Lauren peeked around the corner, rubbing her eyes, Ryan trailing behind.

Paige’s heart cracked on sight.

She crouched low as they came into the room, gathering both into a hug, her voice soft but weighted.

“Hey. We’re gonna leave after breakfast, okay? But it’s not because of you.”

“But we just started hanging out,” Lauren pouted, burying her face into Paige’s hoodie.

“I know,” Paige said, brushing a curl from her sister’s cheek. “But we’ll see each other again later today, just… not here.”

Ryan frowned. “Is Mom mad?”

Paige hesitated. “Sometimes grown-ups don’t agree on things. But that has nothing to do with how much I love you both, okay? And I want you to always feel safe asking questions. Even the hard ones.”

Lauren nodded slowly.

Ryan looked at Azzi. “Can you still come, too?”

Azzi smiled gently. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Paige kissed both their foreheads and stood, turning toward her mom one last time.

“I hope one day you realize what you’re pushing away,” she said.

Amy said nothing.

But Paige didn’t need her to anymore.

She had made her choice.

And when they left that house—hand in hand—Paige didn’t look back.

Because some places weren’t home.

But people could be.

And Azzi was the only home she needed.

The tires hummed softly against the road as the car moved through winding backstreets, no real destination in mind. Just space. Just air.

The sky was heavy with gray-blue dusk, that in-between light where streetlamps flicker to life but the sun hasn’t fully let go. Paige had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh. Azzi’s fingers reached across the console, curled around hers like an anchor.

They hadn’t said much since pulling away from her mom’s house. The kind of silence that wasn’t cold—just full.

Finally, Paige exhaled. “That sucked.”

Azzi turned to look at her. “Yeah. It did.”

“I knew it was gonna be tense, but… I didn’t expect it to hit me like that,” Paige admitted. Her voice was calm, but threaded with something brittle. “It’s not even what she said. It’s what she didn’t say. What she’s always not said.”

Azzi nodded, thumb brushing small circles against Paige’s knuckles. “You held your ground.”

Paige gave a soft, wry smile. “You think?”

“I know.” Azzi shifted slightly in her seat, eyes locked on Paige. “You didn’t shrink yourself for her comfort. You called it out. You made space for the truth. That’s brave as hell.”

Paige let that sit for a moment. Then she laughed under her breath, short and a little tired. “You know what’s wild? I’m actually… proud of myself.”

Azzi’s eyes softened instantly. “Good. You should be.”

She blinked out at the windshield, the faint glow of oncoming headlights sliding across her face. “But it still hurts. Even when you expect it. Even when you’ve built a whole life that has nothing to do with their approval… it still stings.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Of course it does. You deserved better. You deserve better.”

Paige’s jaw tensed, then released. “It’s like… no matter how much success I have, how much love I have in my life now—it’s still not enough for her to see me fully.”

Azzi was quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “I see you fully.”

That cracked something open. Not in a painful way—but in the way warmth seeps into frozen places.

Paige looked over, eyes glassy but steady. “Thank you for being there.”

Azzi leaned closer, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “Always.”

They kept driving, slow and aimless, letting the quiet fill back in. Letting the pain ease its grip.

The night was still ahead of them. And despite everything, Paige felt lighter.

Maybe not whole.

But closer.

—-

The neon glow of the arcade blinked in bright blues and reds across Paige’s face as she watched her younger brother lose his mind over the claw machine. Azzi stood a few feet away with Paige’s sister, both of them laughing as they tried—and failed—to beat each other at ski ball.

It was noisy and chaotic and smelled like pizza grease and sour candy. But for once, none of it felt overwhelming. It felt right.

Paige leaned back against the side of the game cabinet, sipping her slushie and watching her siblings light up in a way she hadn’t seen in too long.

“Okay, okay—watch this one,” her brother said, intensely focused, maneuvering the joystick like it held the fate of the world.

“You’ve said that the last three times,” Paige teased.

“Yeah, but this time, I’m actually locked in.”

Azzi walked over with a smug smile. “He’s been locked in for twenty minutes. I’m pretty sure the machine’s just bullying him at this point.”

“I heard that!” he yelled, and they all laughed.

Later, after the games had been played and prize tickets cashed in for candy and slap bracelets and a single bouncy ball that cost 700 points, they all piled into the booth of a nearby ice cream spot—one of those ones with metal chairs and handwritten chalkboard menus.

Paige let her little sister steal some of her whipped cream. Azzi shared her cone with her brother because he needed to try the cotton candy flavor. They were loud and ridiculous and somehow a little family in their own right.

And for a moment, Paige forgot about the tension from the morning. Forgot about the look on her mom’s face when she corrected her. Forgot about all the years she spent trying to earn a kind of love that never came.

Because this—this right here—was love. Uncomplicated, goofy, sticky-fingered love.

“Thanks for today,” her sister said softly, swinging her legs under the table. “It’s been a while since it felt like this.”

Paige blinked, her chest pulling a little. “Like what?”

Her sister shrugged. “Like… you’re really here. Like everything’s okay.”

Paige reached out and gently tugged one of her curls. “I am really here.”

Her brother, mouth full of marshmallow topping, looked up. “You’re gonna come back more, right?”

Azzi stepped in without hesitation. “We both are.”

Paige glanced at her—at the way she didn’t flinch, didn’t wait to be asked. She just showed up. It made her heart do that fluttery, shaky thing it always did when Azzi said we like that.

“Yeah,” Paige echoed, voice softer. “We both are.”

Outside, the sky was streaked with stars. The kind you could barely see through the city’s glow, but they were there. Quiet. Constant.

And Paige, for the first time in a long time, felt like maybe—just maybe—she was starting to feel that way too.

—-

The hotel room was simple—two queen beds, warm lighting, and the faint scent of lemon cleaner still lingering in the air. Paige had kicked off her sneakers the second they got in and collapsed backward onto the bed with a long exhale, her arm draped over her eyes.

Azzi watched her for a moment from across the room, slipping out of her own shoes more slowly. There was something in the way Paige was lying there—not exhausted exactly, but unloaded. Like everything she’d been holding in had finally spilled out, and now there was nothing left but the ache of vulnerability.

Azzi padded over and crawled onto the bed beside her, laying on her side. Paige didn’t move at first, just kept her arm over her face like she wasn’t ready to be seen.

But Azzi reached up and gently pulled it away.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Paige blinked at the ceiling, her mouth twitching. “Hey.”

Azzi studied her face for a moment, then said, “You okay?”

Paige let out a breath through her nose. “I think so. That was just… a lot. I didn’t think seeing them would hit me like that.”

“You were amazing with them,” Azzi said. “The way they lit up around you? You’re their whole world.”

Paige looked over at her, eyes a little glassy. “Sometimes I feel like… I’m trying to stitch together a version of home that never really existed for me.”

Azzi’s chest pulled. She reached out and took Paige’s hand. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s just scary,” Paige admitted. “Letting you see all this. Letting you into all this.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Paige… I’ve been in it. I know it’s messy. I know there are parts of you that still don’t believe you’re allowed to want the kind of love you give everyone else.”

Paige went quiet, her eyes searching Azzi’s like she wasn’t sure what to say.

Azzi leaned closer, her voice low but sure. “But I want you to know—I’m not scared off by any of it. Not your past. Not your mom. Not the years you spent learning how to take care of yourself because no one else did it right.”

She brushed a hand through Paige’s hair, her touch slow and grounding. “You’ve built this life with so much intention. With so much softness, despite everything that tried to harden you.”

A pause.

“I’m falling more in love with you because of it,” Azzi said, her voice catching just slightly. “Not in spite of it. Not around it. Because of it.”

Paige’s eyes welled, but she didn’t look away this time.

Azzi smiled gently. “You’ve been showing up for everyone your whole life. Let me show up for you, okay? Let me keep showing up.”

Paige’s lip trembled, and she nodded once before pulling Azzi into her arms, burying her face in her neck. The hug wasn’t frantic or urgent—it was slow and certain, a deep breath in human form.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For not flinching.”

Azzi kissed her temple. “Never.”

The hotel room was quiet, all the sharpness of the day dulled into a hush. The low hum of the air conditioner and the occasional swoosh of a passing car outside were the only sounds left in the world.

Paige lay on her side, one arm draped across Azzi’s waist, her cheek resting against her shoulder. Their bodies had long since learned each other. They’d touched, gasped, loved in every way before—but something about this moment felt different. Not new. Just… clearer.

Azzi’s fingers idly traced the curve of Paige’s back, slipping beneath the hem of her t-shirt to feel the warm skin there. She wasn’t coaxing anything. Just… there. Present. Intentional.

Eventually, Paige looked up, her eyes soft and steady.

“You okay?” Azzi murmured.

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Just… it feels like I’m finally breathing right.”

Azzi smiled, brushing a thumb across Paige’s cheek. “You are.”

There was a pause, not heavy—just thoughtful.

Then Paige’s gaze shifted, deepened.

“I want to love you tonight,” she said, her voice low but sure. “Not like a release. Not like a distraction. Just… you.”

Azzi didn’t need time to think. She simply nodded, pulling Paige closer until their foreheads touched. “Then love me. We know how.”

They moved together like muscle memory—but slower, more deliberate than before. Clothes were eased off, not in haste but reverence. There was nothing rushed in how Paige kissed down Azzi’s stomach, nothing performative in the way Azzi’s hands slid up her back. They’d done this before. But never like this.

Every kiss was quieter. Every breath was met with one in return. They weren’t chasing anything. They were meeting each other—touch for touch, heart for heart.

Paige laid herself fully over Azzi, fitting into her like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there. Her hand slid down Azzi’s thigh as her lips pressed to her neck, and Azzi tilted her head without thinking, offering the vulnerable space beneath her jaw like a secret.

“God, you feel like home,” Paige whispered, her breath warm against skin. “Like something I didn’t know I could have.”

Azzi pulled her tighter. “You do have it. You have me.”

And Paige showed her just how deeply she believed that.

She moved inside her with a kind of reverence that made Azzi tremble—slow, grounded thrusts that made her body arch and sigh, made her eyes flutter shut and then open again, needing to see Paige.

Their rhythm wasn’t new. But it had never felt this intentional.

Azzi clutched at Paige’s back, her legs tightening around her waist. “You love me different tonight,” she whispered.

Paige pressed their foreheads together. “I love you truer tonight.”

Their mouths met again, messier now—breathless and aching as Azzi’s moans grew quieter, tighter, hips beginning to shake with the buildup she couldn’t hold back.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, “don’t stop—just like that—”

“I’m right here,” Paige murmured, voice hoarse. “I’ve got you. Come for me.”

And Azzi did.

Not with the same wild abandon they sometimes had—but with something quieter. More consuming. Her entire body tensed, then unfurled, her head falling back with a sound she only ever made when she felt safe.

Paige stayed with her through it, kissing her throat, her cheek, her temple—holding her like she was more than a body. Because she was.

When Azzi finally caught her breath, she cradled Paige’s face in her hands and pulled her into a kiss that said everything she didn’t have words for.

And Paige gave it all back.

Not because they hadn’t before—but because tonight, every touch said: I still choose you. I will keep choosing you. I want to grow this thing with you—on purpose.

Later, when the sweat had dried and the room dipped back into stillness, Paige stayed wrapped around her, face tucked into the curve of Azzi’s neck.

She waited until Azzi’s breathing slowed, until her body softened in sleep.

And then, when she thought no one could hear her:

“I’m so, so in love with you,” she whispered. “But someday… I’m gonna marry you. And somehow, someway… I’ll fall even more in love with you than I am now.”

Azzi didn’t stir.

Just breathed slow. Easy.

But when Paige finally slipped into sleep, Azzi shifted—gently curling tighter around her, fitting them together like something practiced and permanent.

She pressed a kiss to Paige’s bare shoulder and whispered into the dark:

“I hope that someday comes soon.”

A promise, not a wish.

And though Paige didn’t respond, a sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

Because maybe, deep down, she heard her after all.

The morning light filtered in slow, pale and golden, pooling across the rumpled hotel sheets and the tangle of limbs between them. Paige stirred first, blinking up at the ceiling like she needed a second to remember where she was.

Then she felt Azzi’s hand resting over her stomach. Their legs were still knotted together, bodies tucked into each other like they’d never moved from where they’d fallen asleep.

And maybe they hadn’t.

Paige turned her head slowly. Azzi was still asleep—or at least, pretending to be, her breath even, her lashes soft against her cheeks. Paige watched her for a long moment, her chest filling with something deep and quiet and certain.

She didn’t say anything this time.

Just leaned in and kissed her forehead.

Azzi smiled, eyes still closed. “Was that a good morning kiss or a you-talk-in-your-sleep-and-I-heard-every-word kiss?”

Paige flushed immediately. “You were awake?”

Azzi opened one eye, grinning. “I might’ve been.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “I’m never talking to you again.”

Azzi just laughed, pulling her closer. “You really want to marry me, huh?”

Paige peeked up at her with an embarrassed smile. “I said someday.”

Azzi kissed her cheek. “Well, I hope someday packs light, because we’ve got a drive ahead of us.”

They got dressed slowly, moving around each other with soft smiles and the kind of ease that only came after nights like that—after honesty like that. Paige packed her bag with a little more care than she had when they’d left her mom’s. Azzi triple-checked the directions.

By the time they were on the road, sun climbing higher in the sky, there was music playing low and Paige’s hand resting on Azzi’s thigh as they drove.

She stared out the window for a while, watching the hills roll by. Then, quietly: “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen him. We’ve talked more lately, but… I still don’t know what to expect.”

Azzi reached over and laced their fingers together. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.”

Paige looked over at her, heart squeezing. “Yeah?”

Azzi nodded. “I’ve got you. Even if it’s awkward. Even if it’s weird. Even if it’s tense dad hugs and sad store-bought cookies weird. We’re good.”

Paige laughed softly. “You’re the best.”

“Tell me that after we survive your childhood bedroom.”

Paige groaned. “God, I bet the walls are still lime green.”

Azzi’s grin widened. “Even better.”

They drove on, the weight of yesterday easing into the open space ahead of them. The air between them was calm now—not because everything was perfect, but because they were moving through it all together.

And whatever was waiting at her dad’s house?

Paige wasn’t facing it alone.

—-

Paige didn’t realize how much tension she was still carrying until it started to melt away the second the front door opened.

“Look who it is,” her dad said with a big grin, pulling Paige into a firm, familiar hug. He smelled like sawdust and peppermint gum—somehow exactly the same and totally different from when she was a kid. When he pulled back, his eyes were a little glassy, but his voice stayed steady. “It’s really good to see you, kid.”

“You too,” Paige said, letting herself lean into the warmth of it.

“And this must be Azzi,” he added, turning toward her with the kind of welcome that didn’t feel forced or performative. He offered a hand but then pulled her into a hug before she could even shake it. “We’ve heard a lot about you. Hope you’re ready for chaos.”

Azzi laughed, visibly relieved by the shift in energy. “I was born ready.”

Just then, a blur came flying down the hallway. “PAIGE!”

Her little brother Drew—eleven years old and shooting up like a weed—barreled into her with an enthusiastic hug that nearly knocked her backward.

“Drew, dude,” Paige said, crouching to hug him properly. “You got tall since I saw you last.”

“I got fast too,” he said proudly, grinning wide before turning to Azzi. “You’re Azzi, right? You play basketball. I watched your highlight reel on YouTube.”

Azzi crouched to his level with a smile. “You did, huh? What was your favorite play?”

“The one where you blocked that girl so hard she fell down,” he said with complete seriousness.

“That’s a classic,” she said, winking.

From the kitchen, her step-mom called out, “We’ve got hot cocoa and cinnamon rolls if anyone’s hungry!”

The whole house smelled like cinnamon and comfort. The walls were lined with photos—some old, some new—including a framed one of Paige and Drew at his last school event. Paige didn’t even know that one existed. It sat right next to a holiday card Paige had sent with Azzi earlier in the month.

No performance. No rewriting of history. Just inclusion.

They migrated into the living room, where Paige’s dad handed her a mug with her name on it—clearly homemade by Drew, the letters a little uneven but full of love. The fire crackled in the background, a board game already half set up on the coffee table.

Everything about the space felt… easy.

“So,” Paige’s step-mom said, settling into the armchair with her own cocoa. “We were thinking gingerbread houses tonight, then movie night. Drew insists on Home Alone 2.”

“Because it’s the better one,” Drew added, offended anyone would even question it.

Azzi laughed and pointed at him. “You get it.”

Paige sat back on the couch, her thigh brushing Azzi’s, cocoa warming her hands and heart. She watched her dad joke with Azzi about the chaos of raising a middle-schooler, watched Drew already asking if she could come to one of his games, watched Paige’s step-mom quietly bring over a blanket and drape it over their laps.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was something better: intentional.

When she caught her dad watching her with that same look—regret, maybe, but also effort—he just nodded at her.

We’re trying, it said.

Paige nodded back.

And for the first time in days, the tightness in her chest released.

She reached over and laced her fingers through Azzi’s under the blanket, giving it a squeeze.

Azzi leaned into her and whispered, “This is good.”

Paige smiled. “Yeah. It really is.”

And just like that, they settled into the evening—with laughter, sugary snacks, and the kind of comfort Paige hadn’t realized she missed until it was right in front of her again.

The days between Christmas and New Year’s passed like a gentle snow globe shake—slow, sparkly, filled with little moments that shimmered when you looked close enough.

Azzi fell into rhythm with Paige’s family easily. Not in any grand or performative way, but in the small, sacred things.

One morning, she helped Drew put together a Lego set at the kitchen table, the two of them bent over the instructions like co-pilots on a mission. Paige’s dad watched from the counter, smiling into his coffee like he was seeing something he hadn’t known he’d been waiting for.

Later that afternoon, Azzi stood shoulder to shoulder with Paige’s step-mom as they organized old photo albums in the living room. At one point, Paige’s step-mom flipped to a younger version of Paige—missing her two front teeth, eyes wild with a pre-teen confidence. Azzi traced a finger along the photo.

“She always that fearless?” she asked, half teasing.

Paige’s step-mom smiled. “Even when she wasn’t… she tried to be.”

Paige had walked in just then, caught the look exchanged between them, and shook her head. “Don’t let them start on storytime. I’ll never recover.”

But she smiled anyway, tucked herself under Azzi’s arm, and didn’t let go.

There was a safety in this home that didn’t require apology. Paige still had moments—quiet ones, when she caught herself waiting for the other shoe to drop—but Azzi was always right there. Steady. Present. Not trying to fix anything, just… loving her through it.

New Year’s Eve came cold and clear, the sky painted with navy and stars as they bundled up and made their way to the center of the small town. It was the annual tradition—bonfires in the town square, booths with hot cider and kettle corn, a countdown projected on the side of the old town hall.

It was quaint and a little chaotic. Families mingled, teenagers threw snowballs, and someone’s aunt was already dancing like it was midnight at 9:30 p.m. sharp.

Paige stood near the firepit with Azzi, their hands tucked into one shared pocket, cheeks pink from the cold and cider.

“I feel like I’m in a Hallmark movie,” Azzi said, glancing around with a crooked grin.

Paige laughed. “I know. I keep waiting for someone to challenge me to a snowman contest and teach me the true meaning of Christmas.”

Azzi bumped her hip. “You’d lose.”

“Debatable.”

Drew ran by with a sparkler, and Paige’s step-mom handed them both hot cocoa, whispering something about claiming the perfect spot for the countdown.

Paige looked around the square—the old stone clock tower, the string lights flickering between lampposts, her family standing just a few steps away. It didn’t feel performative like her mom’s. It felt… earned. Real. Like maybe this was a new memory she wouldn’t have to flinch from someday.

Azzi saw it in her face and leaned in closer. “You good?”

Paige nodded slowly. “Better than good.”

When the countdown finally started—10… 9… 8…—they found themselves pulled closer by instinct.

At midnight, surrounded by cheers and sparklers and soft laughter echoing down snowy streets, Paige kissed Azzi.

It wasn’t their first kiss.

But it felt like the first where Paige let herself really feel it—deep and slow and full of every promise they hadn’t said out loud yet and the promises they had said.

When they pulled back, foreheads resting together, Paige whispered, “Thank you for being all in with me.”

Azzi smiled, her breath warm against Paige’s lips. “I couldn’t be anything else.”

They stayed there, tangled in each other while the sky exploded above them—fireworks lighting up the town, the start of a new year unfolding with quiet certainty.

And for the first time in her life, Paige believed this kind of love could be hers. The kind you didn’t have to perform for. The kind you just chose, again and again.

Even when it was messy.

Even when it was hard.

Especially when it was this good.

—-

The morning they were set to fly home was crisp and quiet, the kind of stillness that made goodbyes feel heavier in the air.

The car was packed—suitcases in the trunk, travel pillows tossed into the backseat. Paige lingered by the front steps of her dad’s house, Azzi standing close beside her, both of them bundled up for one last Midwest chill.

Drew was the first to break the silence, launching himself into Paige’s arms with that reckless kind of kid hug that always made her heart squeeze.

“You better FaceTime me the next time you hit a hole-in-one,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

Paige laughed softly, brushing his curls back. “Deal. But only if you promise to send me your next three-pointer, too.”

“You got it.”

When she finally let go, her stepmom, pulled her into a gentler hug—one filled with the kind of understanding Paige never knew how much she needed until recently.

“You’re welcome here anytime,” she whispered. “And that includes both of you.”

Azzi smiled, stepping forward to hug her too, murmuring her own thanks and promises to keep in touch. It wasn’t loud or emotional—it was simple, grounded, real.

And then came her dad.

He didn’t say much at first. Just pulled Paige in, held her for a long time, and when he stepped back, he placed both hands on her shoulders like he was trying to memorize her face.

“You’ve got something really good,” he said, nodding toward Azzi. “And I can see she’s got something good in you, too.”

Paige swallowed hard. “Thanks, Dad.”

“We’ll come visit soon,” he added. “You two show us the LA version of family holidays next time.”

“We’d love that,” Azzi said, looping her arm through Paige’s.

As they climbed into the car and waved one last time from the driveway, Paige felt a quiet ache settle in her chest—not the heavy, complicated kind she’d carried leaving her mom’s house, but something bittersweet. Something soft.

Because this goodbye didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the start of something new.

They drove toward the airport with fingers laced between them on the center console, the landscape rolling by in shades of winter brown and gold.

“You okay?” Azzi asked gently.

Paige nodded, eyes on the horizon. “Yeah. Actually… I think I am.”

“You sure we’re ready to go back?”

A pause. Then a smile.

“I’m ready to go home.”

Azzi squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

And just like that, they left behind the towns and tensions and toasts of the past few weeks—carrying only what mattered most: each other.

Los Angeles would be waiting. Their bed. Their mugs. Their playlists. Their routines.

Their home.

The one they were building together.

[silis-fr]

do you have any tips/tricks/advice for skin making? your skins are always so stunning!!!

thank you!!

MythicalViper has this amazing guide on skin making you should def check out! (and they're giving out free blueprints too!!)

I'll write down some stuff here that came to mind.

I use a lot of autoline brushes for stuff like plants and jewellery. In clip studio it's called border effect I think (I usually set mine at 1.5, but it depends on your line thickness). It's so much faster and easier way to do smaller detail. After I've drawn the shape out I just start adding color/shadows/light by clipping layers to it.

like I personally think it's literally not worth it to worry about lines and small detail too much, since it will get crunched anyway. I think that the composition, color and readability of the skin are the most important things!

it's also helpful to check during your progress how it looks at 350x350px and how much detail you are losing.

one thing is that I see new skinmakers do is having too dark shadows/lines or they have not been color tinted at all. It dulls the colors a lot when you slap a grey multiply layer on top of your work.

<- original shadow layer at 50% and original lines at 30% | tinted shadows and lines ->

here's a method for lines and shadows (which I didn't come up with myself, and I'm not sure if I'm even doing it correctly lmao, but maybe it's useful for someone):

Merge your skin layers together and place it under lines and shadows layers (make sure to take copies of the original layers)

2. Copy the skin layer on top of both shadow and lines layers and clip them. Make sure the shadow and lines layers are at 100% opacity.

3. Merge the shadow and lines layers with the clipped layer.

4. Change layer type to multiply and clip the layers to the skin.

5. It's usually not perfect as is so you will need to play with tonal corrections, add saturation, play with the opacity of the layer etc. Sometimes just I copy the lines layer multiple times so you can see it better. You should also pay extra attention to white/light areas of the skin, since multiply won't affect those areas and the shadows and lines will be too light. You need to do some manual correcting in those areas. You can just lock transparent pixels and go over them with a brush.

I hope someone finds this useful. Idk what else to add, feel free to ask if you have any specific questions!

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Hi hi! I hope you're doing well, Lovely, your works are just... UGH‼️ I need them in my VEINS, IMMEDIATELY. You write L so well, I love your fics so much!!

Anywhooo...I've never requested anything before, and I could find a rules post from you about requests, so I don't know if I'm doing this right or anything. I'm so sorry if I do this wrong 😭😭

ANYWAY, Om to the request 😋, I was thinking, you know how when people get mad in fights and give the other person the silent treatment? Wellll, I was wondering how Yan!L would react to that, the reader refusing to acknowledge his presence.

Hope this was okay, and don't forget to eat and drink and all that good stuff!! We love you!! <3

Hii!! Tysm for the request, I should really put up some rules so it's easier for people to ask 😅 this one's short, but I hope you enjoy anyway!

it's been two weeks.

He thought this was a little tiff, nothing serious, but you haven't spoken to him in two weeks.

He really did hurt your feelings, didn't he?

He could make you sit with him, make you lay with him, make you eat with him, but he couldn't make you speak to him.

All because he said he didn't love you.

He doesn't know why he said it. He supposed...he didn't want you to get so comfortable. This method works for him, usually. He strings you along with a lack of affection, and then smothers you with it before you question your purpose with him in the first place.

This time, you had come up behind him when he was working, and hugged his shoulders. "You love me, don't you," you had asked.

he was feeling playful. Or...mean. Or maybe he was annoyed at the interruption. In any case, he had said, "love is a heavy word."

He only wanted to play semantics. He only wanted to pick on you.

You frowned, and stood upright. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Mn...To say I love you would be to say I cannot live without you."

you came around the side of the couch, and stood before him. "You...have to love me," you urged.

"I don't have to do anything."

"But you have to do this. You have to-" you were interrupted by the tears welling in your eyes, by the hiccuping in your throat.

He should have stopped when he saw your lip quiver, and your nose twitch. But you hardly ever argue with him...and he wanted to see how far you would go.

"And what would you do if didn't? What could you possibly say to me that would make me do something I don't want to do?"

You sniffled. "You have to love me. If you don't love me, it- it means that everything was for nothing-"

"Everything? Everything that I...provide for you?"

"No! Everything that you-"

That he did.

He could see the pain on your face. The pain of remembering. You turned, and stormed off to the bedroom.

He didn't chase you. He didn't call out to you.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Forgive me.

He just kept working.

and so, here you were. Seated across from him, picking at a ham sandwich. Your eyes were puffy and red. Your nose was dripping. You looked tired, drained from crying.

"...did you do anything interesting today?"

No answer.

"I found a very compelling lead in my case."

Not a word.

"With any luck, I may be done by the end of the month."

It was like talking to himself.

You were making him lose his appetite, of all things. He thought continuing as usual would snap you out of this. That you would cave, give him an empty "that's nice, dear" and move on with your life. But you just swallowed another sob, and stood to throw out your food.

"...we could...take a trip to Greece." You've mentioned wanting to see the beaches.

you walked back into the bedroom.

He poked at his slice of cake. This wasn't fun at all. He liked to play games with you, but this...this was just sad.

He tossed his cake as well, and followed you. By the time he reached the bedroom, you were already curled on your side, back to the door.

He perched at the edge, and reached to pet your hair. You didn't move, not to shy away or lean into his touch.

"I'm...aware of how you feel."

you couldn't grace him with a look in his direction. He laid down beside you, pressed into your back, and sighed.

"Would you like to go to Greece?" His voice was small. Gentle.

You shiver, and he draws up the blanket. "We could go by the end of this week. I wouldn't mind flying out earlier than anticipated."

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer, but you're as inviting as a dead body. A ragdoll to toss around. He's broken you like this before, in cells for weeks at a time, but never with his words. Before, those were punishments for attempts at escape. This was a mistake on his part. He was cruel to you, for no reason.

"I realize I've made a mistake."

At your lack of response, he presses his nose to the nape of your neck. "Tell me how to fix this."

You shake your head. You didn't need to tell him.

He knows.

"...I do. And I'm...sorry. For insinuating I don't."

.

.

.

"Do what," you croak.

He closes his eyes.

"I do love you. So much so that I-" he takes a deep breath- "I cannot live without you."

You turn in his arms. He finds his face now pressed to your clavicle. "Take me to greece."

"Okay."

"Tell me you love me again."

"...I love you."

You close your eyes, too. It all made sense again. Everything...made sense again.

[arrimorr]

you work is such an ispiration it's it's so cool!! i love how you play with mixed media

im trying to learn blender 🥲 do you have any tips? how did you start out and found your style

Hiii! Thank you so much. The thing that really helped me to break the ice with blender is switching to tutorials that cover low poly modeling. I bawled my eyes out while I was trying to make the infamous donut. As a beginner, you just won't be able to fully comprehend the amount of info covered in high detail modeling tutorials, while low poly will cover the base modeling and texturing, without any extra stuff, and it will be easier to go from there. On the side note I would also advice to look into low poly tutorials that cover simple inanimate objects like cars, computers, etc. If you are a beginner this will be way less confusing than trying to tackle making a human model

As for the style - I don't think I have one now 😭😭😭 but this goes as usual - find some artists that you like, analyze what specifically fascinates you in their art (maybe its the shape work, or specific textures) and try to replicate it, the style comes with you discovering comfortable methods for your artistic practice

[shifting4cake]

֯݁კ How to better ignore the 3D ಇ. ֯ Tips n Advice

�� ... Identifying problem ; Can't detach from this reality? Find it hard to ignore the current 3d? Keep getting mentally grounded in this reality?

Here is some tips and advice to help with that!

You may find a lot of people telling you just to detach, to ignore the 3d, but you find that you keep noticing things in your CR that pull you right back to this reality. This can be annoying, especially when you are trying to detach. You and/or your subconscious mind may not help but think "This feels like my CR, Smells like my CR, and sounds like my CR...I must still be in my CR" and in result you are doubting yourself.

What I recommend is to try use your senses, by changing how you perceive your current setting you can trick you and yourself into detaching.

Why should I change my senses? Well, its easy, your subconscious mind takes in things and connects the dots- and so do you. Your mind automatically connects your senses to where you are. and like said before, if you and your mind sense things sense things in you CR you may just ground yourself, you guessed it, IN YOUR CR.

∿ How to Trick and Adjust your senses:

Simply change your surroundings to adjust and better detach.

Sight: simple, close your eyes or be in a very dark room, though it's a personal preference to close my eyes.

Smell: Light a candle or something that your room doesn't smell like already, or if you don't have a candle use some sort of room spray (ex: Febreze) or perfume, body mists, etc. Something you don't usually smell whilst in your room.

Hear: This is where headphones or earbuds come in clutch (Though not needed, you can use whatever puts out sound). Subliminals or repetitive ASMR (wind noises, rain noises, fan noises, etc.) or color noises, something that repeats is most recommended.

Taste: Taste is actually something you do not need to change as usually our brain usually already blocks out the taste of our mouths, but if needed I recommend chewing some flavored gum BEFOREHAND.

Touch: A trickier one to do, but also less needed if you really are focusing on your mind. Best recommendation is getting a different textured blanket (if you are shifting from your bed), maybe changing the temperature of your room.

Now you and your subconscious mind will go "It doesn't smell my CR, it doesn't sound like my CR, it doesn't feel like my CR, hmmmmm I must not be in my CR!" making it much easier to detach from your CR and connect to your CR!

Extra stuff:

You can also use these tips to better connect to your CR, you may find some things to help better remind you of your DR. So in result you can both detach from your CR and better connect yourself to your DR. (Ex: Shifting to a beach DR, you may want to have a candle or body mist that smells like the ocean, you may want to lay on a waterbed, use sea/wave noises, etc)

[katabay]

hi katabay!! this is prob a wack question lowkey but i was just wondering how you read/know so much?? i love reading the descriptions on ur art bc they’re so interesting and i Wish i could do that LOL

tbh a lot of why I read so much is because growing up, money was tight and the library was free. and now I'm broke as an adult, but the library is still free & also I spend a lot of time on public transit which is also is "free" reading time

a large chunk of what I read for fun is actually non fiction- it reads like poetry to me, and I like seeing if I can apply stuff I read when I was going through public domain stuff from the lancet to. uh. borderlands or something. it's kinda fun for me!

usually the process is: I'll have A Question about something while I'm reading and after, I'll see if there's An Answer somewhere & there's no real limit to what I'll read until I satisfy the curiosity, I will chase that thread down until I've run out of thread and hit a wall lol (and ofc the time honored tradition of watching a cool movie/show/comic and then going to see if the writers/producers/artists have their own favorites and check all of those things out)

anyway, my thoughts jump around a lot so I keep track of things in a commonplace style notebook; while I'm reading I'll take some quick notes abt anything I thought was interesting or really banger turns of phrase I want to remember for inspiration and list any questions or themes I want to explore later in a dedicated margin. I'll come back later & either answer my own questions in a different color (so it's easier for me to find), make a book list of additional things to follow up on, or just circle back with additional thoughts I had since then (or comic scene ideas)

lmao you can tell I have trouble wrangling my thoughts in order, I forgot to say: tldr; if you'd like to give my approach to whatever this is a shot, I'd recommend getting a notebook you wont mind carrying around and just write down shit you think is cool when you come across it & why bc the 'why' is the fun part to explore

[loki-zen]

in future, if you would prefer that people do not read you as hostile, you might want to leave out this sort of aside (the bit in brackets):

I don't think leftism is a single coherent ideology in the way you're imagining. Argumate has more or less identified what people tend to have in common.

Some people - leftists that other leftists sometimes call "liberal (perjorative)" - just want more wealth redistribution and doing that without changing much else about the system would be totally fine. You call it "a larger government check" but obviously there would necessarily be other changes to the economy as the money would have to come from somewhere - most would favour higher taxation and taxation which is more in-effect progressive. E.g. fewer corporate handouts from the taxpayer, fewer tax exemptions for rich people stuff, and possibly even lower taxes specifically where those taxes in effect impose a larger proportional burden on lower-wealth individuals.

You also suggest that the aim of leftists is to secure this "larger government check" for themselves, which is another extremely predictable reason for your being read as hostile. The check is for people who have less, likely in at least some sense "in proportion to their needs."*

I think a lot of people figure that, down the line, this would lead to further changes, because (we believe) a lot of the way things currently are is down to the astronomical wealth of the few making it easier for them to reshape society to their whims. Money is power - if those guys have a little less and the masses have a little more, we may see further changes to society as a result of that.

Many leftists in the "literally just more redistribution would count as a victory" camp also want to undo some of the ways the elites have stacked the deck in their favour, but the bottom line is people having enough and the rest can come later.

Some other leftists find just achieving redistribution insufficient or unrealistic - many for instance believe that so long as the elites remain entrenched they will be able to defeat any meaningful proposal for change. These are the guys who think that only vast sweeping changes, up to and including Revolution, will do. But the problem they are trying to solve is ultimately pretty much the same.

*this is a broad sweeping overview kinda post, so not necessarily the place for details, but: some folks would base "need" solely on wealth, but the majority favour the recognition of at least some individual needs for greater spending.

It's also very much a minority point of view to couch all this in terms of the government cutting you a check (that's a very left-libertarian approach). Most leftists recognise that it can be more efficient and effective for some things to be funded as public services instead - rather than giving people money to buy healthcare and books, one might instead fund a public health service and libraries which can be accessed at no cost to the user. It's a matter of simple economic fact that, even with the problems deliberately inflicted on it by the Tories, the NHS still delivers significant cost savings over privately-delivered healthcare, for a number of reasons - just as one example, it allows the British public to engage in collective bargaining with manufacturers of drugs and medical devices and so pay lower prices for those things.

So you ask me, what is the key insight of leftist thought??

Good question! Poor choice of person to ask, but good question!

I would say this: when you look at the world you see two groups of people. The majority have to work their whole lives to earn resources they need to survive. Then there is a small minority who don’t need to work because they control important assets such as land, capital, or monopolies either natural or artificial, from which they earn ongoing rents for doing absolutely nothing.

In the short term that’s great for them, but over the medium term it gets even better, as the value of these assets often increases in conjunction with the overall growth of the population and the economy, giving a second big boost to these rentiers without requiring any effort on their part.

If that was just the extent of it that would not be so interesting; a little unfair that some people work and some people do not, but life was never fair. However, the control of capital and the freedom from work also gives this group (or class) of people the ability to shape the nation by applying political influence to ensure that their interests continue to be prioritised over the interests of the workers, potentially locking us into a situation where people suffer needlessly to preserve the current economic order, all to benefit a small minority.

…and everything else flows from that.

Comments appreciated, particularly from people who use words like “praxis” with a straight face. @leviathan-supersystem perhaps?

[digitaldiary]

story_mode_save_001

"new_life"

catching miracles

california sunshine and diet pepsi by addison rae

new nails

retail therapy

i miss god

above me, the sky cracks open

queens, ny

meme of khloe kardashian witnessing an atomic bomb that makes me laugh

hey

a bit of my grandfather’s stamp collection

new bag

you are my home

New bag, new nails, new job, new brain, new soul, new life, new Sam, old Sam. As I get older, I begin to understand that I don’t understand anything at all. They say at 25 years old, your prefrontal cortex finishes maturing - that is, the part of the brain that assists with higher level cognitive functions like decision making, emotional regulation, impulse control, all the fun stuff. Two months ago I was feeling particularly like a black hole, a void of sorrow and grief due to an unfortunate parting of ways. I found myself in a similar position to one I’ve been in many times in my life, except this time, in between my tears, the cogs in my brain began to turn in a different way than they ever had before. I think I felt my prefrontal cortex finish developing in real time. At least, that’s how I explain the unexpected epiphany and shift of perspective that I experienced in that moment. I came to the realization that I’ve never been a black hole, never been empty, never been missing any pieces of me. I realized that I’ve always been full of love, full of life, and since then, life has felt brand new.

In two months, I’ll be 26. I went back home to California for a couple of days, finding refuge in my childhood room. I soaked up some sun (2) and had to make a stop at Valley Fair & Santana Row in San Jose (7). It is without a doubt, the best shopping center in the United States of America. I spent time with my family. I felt zen.

Upon returning to NYC, I added rigorous structure to my life. My days are marked with the soft hum of routine, mundanity, inner peace, acceptance in the face of distress or confusion. Planned mostly in 30-minute intervals, not a second of my time is spent doing nothing, unless I’m asleep. Gym, working, journaling, reading, cleaning, walking, cooking, pilates, biking, intentional resting. I’m not exactly sure what possessed me to lock in like this, I guess it just felt like the right thing to do once everything in my brain shifted. I think I thought that with structure, it would become easier to think. And it has.

It feels like everything is changing, even though I know not much has really changed. Somehow still, I feel like a new woman, a new person, a new human being, despite in many ways, still being the same old Sam. My descriptors, my personality (which I’d say has actually mellowed out a bit), my taste in music, my interests, have all relatively remained the same. The truth is that once I felt that fundamental shift in my thinking and perspective, my reason for being completely changed. For the first time, I saw the light in myself. Which has never been the case before, and is taking some getting used to. I guess that’s why life feels so new.

I’m sure I won’t always be in this state of homeostasis, but for now, it’s so peaceful, calm, still, quiet. Over and over, I “turn into myself”. I am what I’ve been searching for this whole time - unconditional, undying, devoted. I focus on what’s real and what’s here in front of me. I only believe in what I can see with my own eyes.

[cepheusgalaxy]

ayup! for the fantasy worldbuilding ask game, 🗡️ for any work of your choosing?

Ty for the ask! ^^

🗡️Is killing monsters or magical creatures a viable profession in your WIP? Is it lauded work or scorned?

Hmmm, in the Ein wip there is something similar. Sometimes, magic gets tangled into itself and forms anhanguera, little devilish things, and the Patrol (sort of a magic police in Onemia? Their main job is to fix magical problems before they reach the population) takes care of them. So I'd say it technically is! They also accept apprentices, and Arielle is one of them.

——

-> ask game

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.09

You couldn't call me?

[mage-ical-character-person]

Oh! I love brainstorm!

So! In terms of canon, time manipulation is a separate craft with Time Craft, but Wish Craft is the only known way to do Time Craft without immediately keeling over from Craft Exhaustion. It does exist on its own, so Wish Craft resulting in Time Craft even when the wish had nothing to do with that might be a sort of path of least resistance type thing? Like unlocking a door is easier than breaking down a wall.

Siffrin mumbling to themself while they do things like sharpening their dagger/the Keyknife (Please be sharp, Please be sharp, please be sharp) or woodcarving is implied to be a minor form of Wish Craft that they’re doing subconsciously. They don’t actually know how to sharpen a blade or carve wood without it, as per the Keyknife quest.

They do the same thing when “praying to the Change God” with the statue in Dormont: repeating a phrase 3 times with strong belief. The Change God doesn’t like Siffrin very much, but doing this still boosts the party’s stats, even moreso when partway through the game Siffrin disregards how Mira told him to do it and fully commits to what makes sense to them. (Touching the statue they like best and repeating the phrase 3 times rather than just “believing strongly” and thinking the phrase 3 times) It seems to be a similar situation as with the Favor Tree, where not doing the complete ritual may yield some results but not at full strength.

Siffrin going (Don’t think about it, Don’t think about it, Don’t think about it) might also be Wish Craft and part of why they keep forgetting things. Magical repression.

the text when you use Siffrin’s regeneration skill mentions making a toast, and that’s a little like a wish. Might be based in Wish Craft as well.

I feel like it’s also implied the reason Sif is always so hungry is because they’re always doing Wish Craft just out of habit like this and are always dealing with craft exhaustion. Because the farther you get into the game the more Time/Wish Craft Siffrin has done and the more him being absolutely starving is emphasized.

um… for other just spitballing-esc brainstormy ideas…

Dandelions being like mini favor trees as a ritual, but less likely to work because Sif talks about folding over the leaf to keep the wish secure when making a wish on the Favor Tree, but the rest of the ritual feels similar to wishing on dandelions to me.

LADYBUGS. The superstition that they’re good luck is widespread but you can make wishes on them too. There’s so much superstition around ladybugs.

Similar thing I’ve heard the superstition that if you can catch a butterfly or moth and cup it in your hands (gently, without hurting it) you can make a wish. Moths are attracted to to light because they use the stars and moon to navigate instinctively so that could tie into Universe stuff?

You can wish on a feather! It has to be one you find outside, doesn’t count if you plucked it from a bird or if it’s from stuffing for a pillow or something. Naturally molted by pet birds are a gray area I guess. Anyway you stick it in the ground and circle it while you make your wish and if it doesn’t fall over that’s a good sign. I remember hearing that once, anyway, feels like it could be adapted in a fun way because. Birds. Feathers. The sky. Like maybe owl feathers are the best ones, because nighttime/stars, and also because owl feathers have eyelash-esc texture around the edges to fly silently, and eyelash wishes are also a thing.

Annd uh. maybe different rituals are better for different types of wishes, or affect the way the wish is fulfilled?

does anyone wanna help me brainstorm… let me steal some ideas……

we know that wish craft can:

time loop

time freeze

big mode

duplicate someone

make whatever sort of creature loop is (this might be a necessary part of the duplication)

reset someone / wipe their memories (this might be part of the time loop or part of the duplication)

whatever happened to euphrasie

make it difficult/harmful to think about a topic

move items (this could be part of the time loop) and smooth over related discrepancies in memories

maybe some other of isat’s game mechanics depending on how diegetic you think they are

alter fundamental biological mental or physical functions (we don’t know which of these it used to make people unable to see color)

make simple physical tasks easier / turn out well

but probably there are some entirely different types of things it can do! but surely it can’t do any/all things, because some of its chosen solutions are kinda bizarre as fuck, in a way that implies it has a limited set of hammers with which to approach its tasks.

so… what would be some fun things for wish craft to be able to do…?

(also, rituals! we all know about four leaf clovers and a hundred cranes and special numbers. what are some other fun little possibilities for rituals that aren’t already a widespread superstition irl?)

[gabelew]

i draw enough pre-calamity and pre-botw zora art that creating a timeline spreadsheet was necessary for my sanity (not posting full size versions bc its still very much a messy wip, just wanted to show you guys the scope)

[son-of-avraham]

This isn't, like, the biggest deal, but I do find it funny when people are almost... surprised or shocked that converts unironically believe in judaism and also unironically align themselves with jewishness. It's just something I've seen a small handful of times and it's like... of course I (and others!) unironically believe in this stuff. I'm not putting in this work because I don't have enough going on in my life

[right-there-ride-on]

Gyjo in the fandom

cw: light discussion of ableism

Gyjo… what am I thinking about gyjo…

I like them. I like them a lot, actually. They have paralleled narrative arcs, they complement each other nicely, the romantic subtext is incredibly obvious to the point that even the most homophobic fan you know will admit they understand why people ship it… so why do I also have a problem with it?

There’s a lot of good fanart. Hell, I’ve reblogged plenty. Maybe it’s just something that’s more pronounced in fic.

I’m trying to word this correctly. My issue with gyjo has nothing to do with the text itself. I think my problem is just how people portray it in the fandom.

Maybe it’s because it’s so popular, or maybe it’s the sheer prominence of applying ‘Character A’ and ‘Character B’ dynamics without considerable regard for the characters involved, but I feel gyjo is very prone to flanderization. I believe the intersection with how ableist people are toward Johnny (intentionally or not, subtly or not) and the old tropes these two get shoved into makes it so I have trouble enjoying fics in the fandom.

I’m not saying it’s bad to enjoy certain tropes. I’m not saying headcanons are bad either. What I am saying is that writing is hard, but if you’re going to write fanfiction please have consideration for the characters you’re writing. The arcs of these two are complex and multilayered, which is why I think they have such staying power, but I also think they also provide a good opportunity for us as writers and artists to examine our biases when it comes to the portrayal of certain groups, personality types, mental illnesses, queerness, disability, etc. and maybe come out better people for it.

[runawaycatwalker]

Part 26. Asynchronous Expectations (Oni-Chan 2.0, part C)

< First | < Previous | Next >

Description below the cut

Astrocat wings pattern from here.

Ladybug leaps through the air, swinging her yo-yo towards the Agreste mansion.

Ladybug: Those ribbons were coming from Adrien's place.  Now where's the villain...?

Cut to Gabriel’s atelier, where Oni-Chan is throwing up her hands (one hand holding her sword upwards) in exasperation while looking at a sentimonster—the Unpublisher—as he holds up a single finger.

The Unpublisher: It looks like you want to know what my powers are.  Would you like help?

Oni-Chan: Yes!  I just said that!

The Unpublisher has an uncanny smile and holds up a hand in helpful explanation.  (The Unpublisher is an unsettling inversion of Adrien Agreste—blue hair, dark blue skin, a black overshirt with a white undershirt, hair parted on the other side, and all line art with white lines instead of black.)

The Unpublisher: To delete a picture of Adrien Agreste: Hold my amok and order me to delete a picture of Adrien Agreste.

Oni-Chan picks up a photonegative that was left on the corner of the central platform of Gabriel’s atelier.

Oni-Chan: Is this it?

The Unpublisher: That is the amok belonging to the Unpublisher.  Helpful tip: the Unpublisher is me!  This amok can be used to control the actions of the Un—

Oni-Chan: I get it.

Oni-Chan holds the photonegative and points towards Gabriel’s computer.  The Unpublisher looks at her with a large grin.

Oni-Chan: Look through that computer for Adrien Agreste photos.  Delete all of them from existence.

The Unpublisher: Got it.  Please be patient while I take care of that for you.

Ladybug throws the door open and leaps into the room, wielding her yo-yo.  A couple black ribbons are starting to weave their way into the world.

Ladybug: Not if I have anyth—

Ladybug is abruptly swarmed by a dense slurry of the magical ribbons conjured by the Unpublisher as he deletes every image of Adrien that Gabriel owns.

Ladybug: —Mmph!

Cut to Rena Furtive looking through her telescope at Oni-Chan teleporting across the rooftops as the ribbons fan out across the world.

Ladybug (over comm): I can't get past these ribbons!

Rena Furtive: You might not have to.  Oni-Chan’s mass-teleporting again.  She’s holding something new—I assume it's an amok?

Ladybug (over comm): Then I’ll have to bring her to me...

Cut to Nathalie’s bedroom, where Nathalie sits on the edge of her bed as she speaks to Ladybug.  Her room is largely untouched by the ribbons (though a few can be seen flowing past her windows).  Note that Nathalie has a large map of the world on her wall.

Ladybug: Ms. Sancouer, I need your help.  Do you have a picture of Adrien that Mr. Agreste doesn’t have copies of?

Nathalie: I believe so.

Nathalie (internally): As much as I want to find Adrien, I can't risk an akuma like Oni-Chan leading Gabriel to him first.  If Gabriel asks, I’ll just say I couldn’t refuse Ladybug without rousing suspicion.

A closeup of Nathalie holding her tablet, on which is a picture of Adrien as he stole the grimoire.  He has yet to be deleted.

Nathalie: Here.

Ladybug: Wait, don't look yet—

Oni-Chan teleports in and hits Nathalie (and her tablet with the offending image) with her sword, petrifying her.  Oni-Chan looks towards Ladybug and waves an angry fist (which holds the photonegative amok).

Oni-Chan: Again, Ladybug?  Why must you keep getting in my way?

Oni-Chan swings her sword towards Ladybug, who manages to deflect it with her yo-yo as she leaps back.

Oni-Chan: I just want to find Adrien!  Don't you want that too?

Ladybug: Not like this!  I won't let you hurt everyone just to get to him!

Close-up of Oni-Chan’s unyielding eyes.

Oni-Chan: Then perish!

Ladybug, on pure instinct, yells and throws her yo-yo.

Ladybug: Chat Noir, now!

Ladybug clenches her eyes shut, berating herself.

Ladybug (internally): Stupid reflex!

Ladybug yanks her yo-yo back before it makes contact with Oni-Chan.

Ladybug (internally): He's not here!

Ladybug uses her yo-yo to flee as Oni-Chan lunges towards her.  But behind Oni-Chan, Catwalker has backflipped into the room behind her, his finger touching the amok with his Cataclysm.

Ladybug (internally): I have to fall back and try something els—

Catwalker: Cataclysm!

A closeup of Oni-Chan as she teleports away as the feather starts to emerge from the amok.

Cut to a closeup of the Unpublisher as he begins to dissolve, his mouth forming an ‘O’ as his final ribbon fails as it comes out his finger.

Cut back to Nathalie’s bedroom (she’s still petrified), where Ladybug raises a hesitant hand towards Catwalker.

Ladybug: C-Catwalker?  Where’s the amok?

Catwalker: Oni-Chan took it with her when she teleported away.

Ladybug, face in panicked shock, clenches her fists.

Ladybug: No!  That means I can’t heal the sentimonster’s damage!

Catwalker holds out an appeasing hand.

Catwalker: But it was only destroying Adrien Agreste’s modeling photos, right?  No one got hurt.  And I don't think Adrien would mind losing all that exposure.

Ladybug holds up her hands in infuriation.

Ladybug: Not mind???  Those pictures are incredibly important to Adrien and everyone who still cares about him!  They were all anyone had left of him!

Catwalker slumps and touches the back of his neck.

Catwalker: I'm sorry.

Ladybug: What were you even thinking?

Catwalker: I thought... I thought I was following your orders...

Ladybug points her finger in accusation.

Ladybug: The only order I've given you is to stay out of my way.  And you can't even do that!  I am this close to taking that ring and giving it to someone else, screw what Mayura promised!

Catwalker backs up against the bedroom door, shamefaced, holding his baton in both hands in front of him.

Catwalker: You called for Chat Noir.  Since he couldn't answer you, I just... did what I thought he would have done.

Ladybug shoves Catwalker through the doors, bursting them open.  Catwalker loses grip on his baton as he tumbles backwards.

Ladybug: Don't you dare put the blame on him!  You aren't Chat Noir!  And me calling for him out of old instincts does not give you the right to act like you could ever fill his shoes!

Ladybug slams the doors shut.

Ladybug: Here's your new orders: Go home!  You've put in your mandatory appearance, now leave me alone!

Cut to a conciliatory Rena Furtive calling over her comm, split screen with Ladybug as she answers over her comm, trying to get a grip on herself.

Rena Furtive: I'm sorry.  I know how important Adrien's pictures have been for you.

Ladybug: I can't worry about what's been lost.  I need to figure out my next move.

Rena Furtive: All the other heroes have been frozen by Oni-Chan.  We're running out of allies.  If we can't use Catwalker, I might have to expose myself and join in the battle.

Cut to Catwalker as he sits sadly on the floor on the other side of the door, hugging his knees and eavesdropping on Ladybug.

Ladybug (voiceover): I can handle this all on my own.  I just need a...

Cut to the creation of a Lucky Charm.  It’s a pair of gloves holding hands, one red covered in black spots with Ladybug’s emblem on the wrist, the other solid black with a red paw print on its wrist.

Ladybug: ...Lucky Charm!

Rena Furtive (over comm): What did you get?

Ladybug: A red glove glued to a black glove... holding... hands?

Ladybug looks frazzled and in deep denial as she lifts one of the fingers from the red glove and making it point somewhere.

Rena Furtive (over comm): I hate to say it, but that sounds like you do need to ask for help this time.

Ladybug:  No!  This can't mean that I have to use him!  It's obviously just pointing towards...

Ladybug holds a pencil in the air, about to throw it, as she starts to cover her eyes with her other hand, one eye peeking as she takes aim.

Ladybug: ...This pencil!  And if I close my eyes and throw this pencil at this map, it'll show me where Adrien is!

Rena Furtive (over comm): Uh... I don't think your Lucky Charm works like that...

A close-up of the map, where the pencil has embedded itself.  Ladybug takes a picture of it with her yo-yo.

Ladybug: I've got the coordinates!  Now I just have to follow them!  Power up!

Catwalker watches Cosmobug flying through the sky via the window.  In one hand, he uses his baton to take a picture of the map; in the other, he holds a purple piece of cheese to his mouth.

Catwalker (internally): I'm sorry, but I think I have to disobey you once more, m'Lady...

Catwalker (aloud): Power up!

A closeup of a pair of cuffed black gloves in front of magical green wings.  He holds his baton in one hand and points at the picture of the map on its screen with the other.

Astrocat (internally): If I take a path curved away from the equator... I can get there before Ladybug does and—

Pull back to show Astrocat—the powered-up form of Chat Noir, not Catwalker—looking at himself in panic.

Astrocat (internally): Oh no.  I powered up as Astrocat without thinking!

Adrien hides himself behind a wall and detransforms.  Adrien closes his eyes and tries to focus.  Plagg, meanwhile, helps himself to another piece of purple cheese.

Adrien: Claws in!

Adrien (internally): Focus!  You're Catwalker.  Perfect...  Controlled... No more cat puns under any circumstances...

Adrien (aloud): Plagg, claws out!

Astrowalker—now in his proper form—resumes his flight to the location Cosmobug thinks she’ll find Adrien.

Astrowalker (internally): I really hope that no one saw that...

Cut to Rena Furtive, who Saw That.

Rena Furtive: Chat Noir...?

Below is the same image as above, only without text: