#‘are you sure this is the route you want to go down?’ like you have to purposefully choose to make it happen for it to happen

[moody-alcoholic]

CW: stalking behaviour, over protective 141, fluff.

“See her coming out now.” Ghost says over the radio.  

“Afirm.” Soap’s voice comes back almost instantly. Ghost watches as you stumble over the pavement, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. It’s almost 3am, and most clubs are closing. The friend you came out with left an hour ago. Now you’re alone, drunk, swaying through the streets of London on a busy Saturday night. 

“Watch your distance Soap, no need to spook her.” Price says.

“Copy.” Soap says as he weaves his way through the crowd of clubbers spilling out of the various nightclubs and bars. He keeps his head low, making sure to keep a safe distance from you. They’re not going to lose sight of you though. That’s what Ghost is for. 

He slips between the crowds on the other side of the street, slipping into the shadows every opportunity he gets. 

“She’ll take the next right. Don’t lose her.” Price says as you pick up your pace slightly. He’ll be driving to the next location, ready to pick you up at a moment's notice. You pull your phone out, typing while you struggle to keep your balance. Ghost lost track of how many drinks you had. 

It was a celebration after all, your friend getting a big promotion, she took you to one of the fanciest bars in the city. Even though she left early you still seemed to be having fun, helping yourself to another drink before finally deciding to call it a night. 

The streets off the main road are darker, quieter. Less room for error.

Suddenly you make a sharp turn, almost throwing your body down a dark alleyway. Ghost’s lost visual, he speeds up his strides, he has no idea if the alley is a dead end or not. 

“Soap, don’t lose her.” Ghost orders panic building in his chest. There’s no reply, now Ghost can’t even see Soap. “Soap, confirm visual on the target.” 

Ghost jogs to the next street over, nothing but shuttered buildings and the odd person heading home. 

“Stand-by.” The seconds feel like they’re ticking on for hours. “Eyes on target, she’s-” 

The line goes silent. 

“She’s just throwing up, seems like she’s had a few too many.” Soap says. Ghost can almost hear the collective sigh as he slips back into the darkness waiting for you to emerge from the alley. When you do you seem even more unsteady on your feet. 

“Keep it tight, she’s got another main strip to cross.” Price says. He’ll be moving on already. The amount of times you’ve walked this route. The amount of times they’ve practiced this route, it’s almost like a rehearsed play they could do in their sleep. 

You move on weaving through the growing crowds of the next cluster of clubs. They seem busier than the last. You work through them quickly, Soap keeping his distance, pushing through people without a care. He has one motive, one mission; never lose sight of you. 

As you make it to the quieter end of the street a group of lads cat-call you. You brush it off waving at them as you skip over to the next turn. Almost home. 

“ETA 10 minutes.” Ghost says hugging the shadows on the opposite side of the street. 

“Copy,” Price says, he will be in his final position. For the next few minutes the walk goes smoothly, you’re almost home, almost safe. 

“Got a guy on her six, just overtook me.” Soap says. Ghost’s eyes flick over in an instant. 

“I see.” Ghost says, watching as the man’s pace slows. “Hang back Soap. I got eyes.” 

Ghost doesn’t even hear a reply, his eyes digging into the man now following a few steps behind you. You seem to notice too, quickly taking a peak over your shoulder, pulling your jacket around you tighter. You’re almost there, almost home. 

“Want me to grab him?” Soap asks. As he says it you pick up your speed, your body straightens up. 

“Negative.” 

You turn into the front garden of the house, shutting the gate behind you. The hairs rise on the back of your neck as you fumble with the key pressing it into the lock and opening the door. The feeling of being followed suddenly fades as you make it inside, locking the door behind you. 

“Hey, welcome home.” Kyle says, sticking his head out the kitchen. You smile walking over to him and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“It’s late, you didn’t have to wait up.” you say pressing your lips on his. He kisses you back, his hands gripping your waist. 

“Needed to make sure you got home safe.” You hear John say. You break from the kiss looking over at him sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in front of him. You walk over wrapping your arms around him from behind squeezing him. 

The smell of tea fills your nose and makes you thirsty. 

“Cuppa? Or bed?” Kyle asks, walking over, placing his hand on the small of your back. You hum looking round the kitchen.

“Where’s Johnny and Simon?” You ask. 

“Sleeping, they’re not used to staying up as late as you are.” John chuckles. You smile looking up at Kyle.

“Bed.” You say. He smiles back at you kissing the top of your head. 

“C’mon, I’ll give you a hand.” Kyle says pulling on your waist turning you to the stairs. John hears you giggling as you stumble up the steps to the first floor. A few seconds later the back door slowly opens, Johnny and Simon slipping in. John raises an eyebrow, quickly checking behind him to make sure you’re definitely gone. 

“You better hurry up, I’m pretty sure she’s looking to climb into your bed tonight.” John says as Simon and Johnny look at eachother. Johnny's smiles, taking his coat off and leaving his radio on the kitchen island. 

“Get some rest cap, you look exhausted.” Johnny says, patting him on the shoulder as he passes him. John sighs looking up at Simon. 

“Another successful night.” John says as Simon puts his radio down. 

“Always.” Simon smiles.

_______

👏zero👏self👏control👏

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART SEVEN ♡

paige x azzi

word count: 6.8k

A/N: Here's a cute little fun fluffy chapter for the holiday's, I couldn't do any angsty with Christmas spirit around 😭. Please let me know what you think and if you have any ideas of where you'd like to see things go. I'm not sure how much longer it'll be because I don't know if I have anymore routes to explore for them in this one.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

New Years Eve 

It was currently New Year’s Eve, and Azzi sat at the vanity in Caroline’s room applying her makeup. The soft glow of the mirror lights highlighted her steady hand as she blended the edges of her liner with ease. Behind her, Caroline shuffled around, pulling clothes from her closet as she got dressed.

The tension in the room was a little thick, but it definitely wasn’t from Azzi’s end and she barely acknowledged it. Caroline had brought this up before, and Azzi wasn’t particularly interested in having the same conversation again.

"You know," Caroline started, her tone slightly sharp, "this whole thing with you and Paige is starting to get... noticeable."

Azzi hummed noncommittally, her focus fixed on the mirror as she added a final touch of mascara. "Noticed that, did you?" she said lightly, not bothering to turn around.

Caroline huffed, pulling a shirt over her head. "I’m serious, Azzi. Since your date, you two have been practically inseparable, and yet—" She waved her hand vaguely. "Still no label. So what…you guys are just friends with benefits now?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head without pausing her work. "No, Car," she said easily, "we’re not."

"Then what are you?" Caroline pressed, her tone sharper than before.

Azzi’s hand stilled briefly as she traced the edge of her eyeliner, then resumed as she answered smoothly, "We’re us."

Caroline groaned, turning to lean against the edge of the vanity. "That’s not a title, Azzi. It’s not enough."

Azzi paused, her hand hovering mid-air as she paused applying her makeup. She turned slightly to glance at Caroline, her lips a faint smirk. "And that bothers you…why exactly?" she asked, her tone light but with an unmistakable edge.

Caroline rolled her eyes, undeterred. "I just don’t want you settling for something undefined because it feels good right now," she said, her tone more frustrated than before. "I know Paige. She’s not committing because she can’t. That’s just how she is."

Azzi’s jaw tightened, the irritation finally breaking through her calm demeanor at Caroline mentioning Paige. "Well, good thing I know Paige better than you do, Caroline," she shot back, her voice low but firm.

Caroline straightened, a spark of frustration flaring in her expression. "Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s just dragging you along while she figures herself out."

Azzi set her brush down with a little more force than necessary, her patience clearly wearing thin. "She’s not dragging me along," she said matter of factly. "You’ve brought this up like, what? Three times now? I keep telling you we’re fine and that I’m more than fine."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Are you? Because I remember the first time you argued, she immediately started sleeping around to 'cope.' That didn’t exactly scream 'fine Azzi.'"

Azzi turned to face Caroline fully, her voice cooler now. "You know that was different. We were in a different situation then and you trying to throw it in my face is fucked up."

"How?" Caroline challenged, stepping closer. "What makes it different now?"

Azzi let out a short, exasperated breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the vanity. "Because we hadn’t discussed anything. We didn’t know where the other one stood and we do now. 

Caroline’s expression softened for a moment.  Azzi," she said, stepping closer, "you still deserve better than just sleeping around."

Azzi’s smile faltered, her grip tightening slightly on the makeup brush in her hand, exhaling as she turned fully to face Caroline. "Excuse me?" she asked, her voice sharp now. "Caroline, do you even have any idea what Paige does for me? I’ll answer that for you actually. No, you don’t. So please stop."

Caroline opened her mouth to reply, but Azzi didn’t give her the chance. "She’s so much better than everyone thinks and it kind of sucks that you’re our teammate and don’t see it. She checks in on me constantly, even when she’s buried with her own pressure and stress. She’s Paige fucking Bueckers but she treats me like I’m the biggest star on earth. She looks at me like I put the stars in the sky. She makes sure I eat, that I take care of myself, that I don’t push myself too hard because she knows how I get. She surprises me with stupid little things she knows will make me smile even if it makes no sense to her. She knows exactly how to calm me down when I’m spiraling, she got me this damn necklace when we weren’t even speaking Caroline." Azzi’s voice softened slightly, but her conviction remained. “She’s so thoughtful and present. She treats me like I matter to her more than anything."

Azzi continues, shaking her head at the acquisition of deserving ‘better.’ "A title doesn’t affect how she treats me, Car. I promise you, I wouldn’t be with someone who only wanted me for sex if that’s what you're thinking."

Caroline hesitated, but Azzi wasn’t finished. She leaned back against the vanity, crossing her arms with a smile as she settled down. "It just so happens that it’s amazing," she said, her voice dropping into a teasing tone hoping this will end Caroline’s inquiry, "so we do it…often."

Caroline groaned, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath as she turned away to grab her shoes. "That’s not the point," she grumbled.

Azzi let out a short laugh, returning her attention to the mirror. "You’re right," she said lightly, "it’s not. Because the point is, we’re fine. More than fine."

"But you’re still not official," Caroline pressed, her voice edging toward frustration again.

Azzi shrugged, her tone cool. "A title really doesn’t change anything so please just drop it. It’ll happen naturally.” 

Caroline sighed, her expression shifting to one of genuine concern. "I just don’t want you to get hurt, Azzi," she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed now.

Azzi finished applying her lip gloss, capping the tube before standing and turning to face Caroline. "And I thank you for that, Car," she said, her voice calm but firm. "But really—we’re great. So please, stop worrying about it."

Caroline gave her a long, searching look before finally nodding, though her concern hadn’t entirely dissipated. "Just don’t say I didn’t warn you," she murmured as she stood to finish getting dressed.

Azzi rolled her eyes slightly, grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair. "Duly noted," she said dryly as she moved toward the door.

Caroline watched her go, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Just at least think about what I said, Azzi it’s important to have clear expectations," she called after her.

Azzi didn’t respond, instead stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind her. She walked toward the common area, where Paige was lounging on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. As Azzi approached, a goofy smile immediately spread across Paige’s face, her eyes lighting up.

Paige sat up straighter, her gaze sweeping over Azzi from head to toe. She licked her lips, standing as Azzi drew closer. "You look amazing," Paige said, her voice low and sincere.

Azzi smiled, her dimples showing, leaning in to give Paige a quick kiss. As she pulled back, she adjusted Paige’s collar playfully, smoothing it down. "Have I ever told you how much I love you in all black?"

Paige smirked, her eyes twinkling. "Yeah a few times," she teased.

For a moment, they simply stood there, soft smiles on their faces as they gazed at each other. The quiet moment between them felt private as the rest of the world faded away.

Paige eventually tilted her head toward the door Azzi had just come from. "You two good?" she asked, her voice casual but laced with curiosity. "You looked a little upset coming out."

Azzi glanced back briefly, then shrugged as she turned her attention back to Paige. "Yeah, we’ll be fine. She’s just being Caroline."

Paige hummed softly, her brows knitting together for a moment, but she didn’t press further knowing Azzi would’ve told her if she wanted her to know. Instead, she stepped aside, gesturing for Azzi to sit with her as she sat back down. Azzi flopped onto the couch, stretching out and draping her legs across Paige’s lap. Paige instinctively rested her hand on Azzi’s knee, her thumb brushing lightly over the fabric as they waited for the others to finish getting ready.

The quiet murmur of their conversation was soon interrupted by the loud arrival of Ice, KK, and Aubrey, who burst into the suite with their usual energy.

KK and Ice immediately broke into exaggerated cheers, clapping their hands and whooping loudly. "Look at ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad,’ holding it down on the couch!" KK teased, grinning as she made her way over.

Ice joined in, pointing dramatically at Paige and Azzi. "Such a cute family moment! We love to see it!"

Paige groaned, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her amused smile. "You two are the worst," she said as Ice plopped down on one side of her and KK wedged herself onto the other, forcing Azzi’s legs off Paige’s lap in the process.

Azzi huffed in protest, crossing her arms as she scooted to the edge of the couch. "Do you mind?" she asked, her tone half-serious, though the corner of her mouth twitched with a smile.

"Nope, not at all!" KK said cheerfully, leaning back and putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"So," KK continued, glancing around the room, "who are we waiting on?"

Azzi opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Caroline stepped out of her room, adjusting her earrings. "I’m ready," she announced, her tone brisk as she glanced at the group.

"Finally," Ice quipped, standing up and stretching dramatically. "I was starting to think we’d never leave."

Caroline shot her a look but didn’t respond, instead grabbing her jacket and heading toward the door.

The group followed, making their way downstairs to where the rest of the team was already gathered. The energy was lively, with everyone chatting and laughing as they debated who would ride in which car.

…

By the time the team arrived at Ted’s, the place was already alive with the buzz of other UConn students. Laughter and music spilled out of the bar onto the sidewalk, and the energy was contagious. Inside, the familiar space was packed, but the team’s usual table in the corner remained empty—most likely thanks to the bartender, who always seemed to have them in mind.

As they walked in, the group naturally began to disperse. Ice, Aubrey, Ines, and Ashlynn peeled off first, making a beeline toward a group of familiar faces by the jukebox. KK, Caroline, and Aaliyah veered toward the table, where they could set up shop and claim their space. While everyone else including Paige and Azzi wove through the crowd toward the bar. 

“You drinking?” Paige asked, glancing at Azzi who nodded.

“Definitely,” Azzi said. “I need something to get through another night of Ice’s awful karaoke if it happens.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s happening. She’s been hyping herself up for it all day. I heard her warming up in the bathroom this morning.” 

As they reached the bar, Paige leaned casually against the counter, immediately going into a story about something random that had happened at practice earlier in the week with her group. Azzi chuckled, listening with a fond smile as Paige animatedly recounted every detail, as if Azzi wasn’t there. 

“I’m just saying, who even thinks to do a behind-the-back pass in a half-court drill? It’s wild, right?” Paige said, her voice rising slightly over the noise of the bar.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Barely!” Paige shot back, gesturing emphatically. “KK almost lost it in the bleachers. But you should’ve seen her face—she acted like she just pulled off the play of the year.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds about right for KK.”

As Paige continued, her voice full of excitement, Azzi found herself leaning closer, her eyes fixed on Paige’s face. It wasn’t the story that captivated her—it was the way Paige told it, her energy so infectious that it made Azzi forget the rest of the room entirely.

“...and then Geno was just standing there, looking at her like, ‘You done?’” Paige finished, snorting as she imitated his deadpan expression.

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as the bartender approached. She ordered their drinks quickly, her attention still on Paige.

“You know,” Azzi said once the bartender moved off to make their drinks, “you have a way of making even the most random stuff sound important.”

Paige grinned, leaning against the bar. “That’s because it is important. You just don’t appreciate the art of storytelling.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile softening. “Right. That’s totally it.”

Before Paige could respond, their drinks were placed in front of them. Azzi handed Paige hers, brushing her fingers against Paige’s briefly.

“Thanks,” Paige said, her grin never fading. “And for the record, I know you appreciate it. You just won’t admit it.”

Azzi smirked, picking up her drink. “Maybe I do,” she said, her tone teasing. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

Paige just laughed, taking a sip of her drink as they turned to head back toward their table. 

…

The team had been at Ted’s for about an hour waiting for midnight, passing the time with a round of god-awful karaoke, just as Azzi had dreaded. Laughter filled the bar as they cheered for each other, the air filled with the light buzz of alcohol and their natural competitive energy. Ice was up next unfortunately.

Azzi, Paige, and the rest of the team were seated around the long table, some with drinks in hand, others snacking on appetizers. The table was alive with conversation, laughter, and the occasional groan as another off-key rendition of “I Will Survive” from Ice echoed across the bar.

“Okay, this is torture,” Azzi said, rolling her eyes playfully as Ice launched into her second verse.

“I think she actually sounds worse than she did this morning in the shower if that’s possible” Paige joked. 

Azzi smirked and turned her attention back to the room, her eyes scanning the crowd for anything that might interest her—or at least distract her from the chaos of karaoke. But as her gaze wandered, it landed on someone she hadn’t expected to see: the girl who always seemed to make an appearance at the most inconvenient times. What the hell even was her name? 

Her jaw tightened slightly, the easygoing smirk fading for a fraction of a second.

Paige, always attuned to Azzi’s shifts, noticed immediately. She followed Azzi’s eyeline and spotted the girl across the room who currently seemed blissfully unaware of them, laughing with a group of friends at the bar. Still, Paige recognized the subtle shift in Azzi’s posture, 

“Hey,” Paige said softly, her voice low enough to be lost in the noise of the bar but perfectly clear to Azzi. She lightly touched Azzi’s wrist, bringing her focus back. “You good?”

Azzi blinked, her features relaxing as she looked back at Paige. “Yeah,” she said, her voice calm but not entirely convincing. “I’m fine. Just… caught off guard, that’s all.”

Paige studied her for a moment, her lips pressing together in thought. Then, with a quiet confidence, she set her drink down on the table and reached out, gently pulling Azzi towards her by her waist.

“Don’t worry about her,” Paige said, her voice laced with reassurance. She positioned Azzi between her legs as she sat on the barstool, her hands resting lightly on Azzi’s hips. “You got better things to focus on pretty girl.”

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at Paige’s effortless way of grounding her. “Like you?” she teased, her smirk returning.

Paige raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a grin. “Obviously.”

Meanwhile while the two of them were in their own little world, the rest of the team was caught up in their own chaos. Aubrey was yanking the karaoke mic from Ice, asking the group, "Who's next?"

"Well, I vote for Paige," Ice said with a mischievous grin. "You were judging me way too much this morning—your turn!"

Everyone erupted into playful cheers, and even though Paige groaned and shook her head, Azzi could see the challenge in her eyes. Paige was never going to back down from Ice, the two of them probably the most competitive on the team.

“Yeah, come on, P boogers, show us your moves!” KK shouted, her voice carrying through the room.

Paige shot Azzi a look. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it. But only because I can’t let Ice win.”

Azzi smirked, leaning back in her chair as Paige stood up, finishing off her Dirty Shirley in one smooth motion before confidently striding toward the stage area. The rest of the team burst into cheers, egging her on with shouts of encouragement. “Let’s go, Paige!” Ice hollered, clapping her hands.

As Paige grabbed the mic, her grin widened, the thrill of the moment already lighting up her face. She glanced back at the table, her teammates watching eagerly, and locked eyes with Azzi, who was sitting comfortably, her brow raised in amusement. Paige’s gaze lingered on her for just a beat before she turned to the karaoke screen and scrolled through the selections.

“Oh no,” Ice said with a laugh, leaning toward Azzi. “She’s scheming. You can see it.”

Paige finally settled on her song and stepped back, the opening beats of I Invented Sex by Trey Songz featuring Drake blasting through the speakers. A collective groan and cheer erupted from her teammates. “She’s not serious,” KK laughed, shaking her head.

“Hey girl, hey girl, hey girl… This goes out to the beautiful girls,” she sang, her voice smooth and sultry. The bar erupted in cheers, her teammates the loudest of them all.

“Which one of y’all goin’ home with Trigga?” Paige teased, pointing to a group of strangers near the bar. They whooped, leaning into the attention, but Paige’s smirk showed she was just warming up.

Her energy was infectious as she worked the room. She stepped off the stage, weaving between tables, her eyes gleaming with amusement. Paige locked onto Nika first, throwing an arm around her neck as she sang, “Bottles of the Ace got me with a lil’ buzz… You leaned over and said you want me.”

Nika burst out laughing, raising her hair off her neck and fanning herself dramatically as Paige winked and moved on.

Next, Paige made her way to Aubrey, leaning in close as she sang, “Girl, can we take it upstairs… My bed’s waitin’ there.” Aubrey’s jaw dropped as the rest of the team howled with laughter.

But Paige wasn’t done yet. She circled back to Ice, tapping her shoulder to the beat of the song. “You know I live a magnum lifestyle,” Paige sang, flashing her trademark grin. Ice tossed her head back, raising her drink in mock surrender.

Paige’s playful teasing reached Aaliyah and KK, both getting their own share of her attention as she danced between them, her moves deliberately over the top. The bar ate it up, cheering louder with every step she took.

But when Paige turned to Azzi, her energy shifted.

Her teasing smile softened into something more deliberate, her steps slow and purposeful as she approached. Paige’s voice dipped lower, her eyes locking on Azzi with a bit more intensity.

“Girl, when I pull back them sheets… And you climb on top of me,” Paige sang, standing in front of Azzi now.

Azzi tried to hold her ground, smirking up at Paige with her arms crossed, but her resolve cracked when Paige reached out and took her hand, gently pulling her to her feet.

The crowd roared as Paige sang directly to Azzi, her free hand lightly brushing Azzi’s jaw. “You gon’ think I invented sex,” Paige crooned, her voice dripping with intention and playfulness.

Azzi’s smirk faltered, a deep blush creeping up her neck. Paige wasn’t letting her off the hook, though. As the music swelled, Paige spun around, standing behind Azzi now, her hand lightly resting on Azzi’s hips. She leaned in close, her voice soft in Azzi’s ear.

“It’s a celebration clap, clap, bravo…” Paige sang, her words carrying just enough heat to send Azzi’s blush into overdrive.

Azzi laughed, shaking her head, but her flushed cheeks gave her away. 

By the time the song ended, the whole bar was on its feet, clapping and cheering. Paige bowed with exaggerated flair before walking back to the table, her eyes still locked on Azzi.

"Wow, I'm impressed," Azzi said, her tone amused as she sipped her drink.

“What can I say? I’m a natural,” Paige replied, sitting down beside her. The two of them quickly fell into their usual rhythm of playful banter, Azzi teasing Paige about her exaggerated performance and Paige pretending to be offended as the rest of the team chimed in with their own commentary.

The table was buzzing with laughter and conversation when the same girl from earlier—the one Azzi had clocked near the bar—made her move. She approached confidently, a drink in hand and a smile that suggested she had more than casual conversation in mind.

Paige spotted her from the corner of her eye, her instinct telling her to ignore the interruption. But then she glanced at Azzi, who gave the subtlest tilt of her head, signaling she had it covered. Paige leaned back in her seat, her posture relaxed as she let Azzi take the lead.

The girl stopped in front of Paige, setting the drink down on the table with an audible clink. “I couldn’t help but enjoy your performance tonight,” she said with a coy smile, her eyes lingering on Paige. “Thought you deserved a little something for the effort.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi reached for the drink, her movements deliberate as she plucked it off the table and took a slow sip through the straw. Her gaze never left the girl, her smirk growing as she set the glass back down. “Thanks,” Azzi said casually, leaning back in her chair.

The girl blinked, clearly thrown. “Uh, that was for Paige,” she said, her tone faltering.

Azzi glanced at Paige through her lashes, her voice dropping into a playful purr. “Baby,” she said, her tone laced with teasing affection, “do you mind?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a small smirk. She licked her lips slowly, her eyes locking with Azzi’s. “Of course not,” she murmured, her voice low and easy.

Azzi’s smirk deepened as her fingers brushed Paige’s neck, her attention returning to the girl, who was now visibly unsettled. The girl shifted her weight, attempting to regain her footing.

“You know,” the girl started, her tone taking on an edge at Azzi’s constant presence, “I’m surprised Paige has stuck with one person for so long. That’s not exactly her reputation.” Her eyes flicked to Azzi, testing for a reaction like last time.

But she didn't get one, Azzi just chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Reputation?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “You mean that phase when she was keeping herself entertained when I wasn’t here yet?” Her gaze flicked to Paige for a moment, her smirk sharpening. “Everyone experiments in college, right, baby?”

Paige, leaning back and watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, nodded slightly. “Something like that,” she murmured, letting Azzi steer the conversation.

The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing Azzi wasn’t fazed. She straightened up, doubling down. “I wouldn’t call it a phase. Some of us,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, “leave a lasting impression.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Ahh yes, I remember you now,” she said, snapping her fingers as if the memory had just clicked. “You were the one that threw yourself at Paige at a basketball party on campus right? I think she’s told me this story. You kinda just invited yourself to her room. Didn’t she ghost you after though? I remember you asking about it when we were on the way to dinner.” Her tone was light, teasing, but her words landed with precision.

The girl’s face reddened slightly, but she forced a smile. “Maybe,” she said, her voice tight, “but we had fun. She couldn’t keep her hands off me that night.”

Azzi’s grin only grew as she tapped Paige lightly on the shoulder, interrupting her conversation she started with Nika. Paige turned, her brows lifting slightly in question. “What’s up Az?”

Azzi gestured toward the girl with a casual tilt of her head, her amusement clear. “Do you remember her name?” she asked, her tone sweet but undeniably teasing.

Paige frowned slightly, genuinely trying to recall. Her gaze flicked toward Jade for a moment, her lips pressing together in thought. “Um...” She hesitated, searching her memory. “Jessica? Jasmine? No, wait... Jade?” She glanced at Azzi for confirmation, her expression apologetic as she didn’t know what was going on.

Paige’s lips curled into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry,” she admitted, leaning back against her chair. “I used to get things mixed up a little.” She shrugged lightly, her tone casual but not unkind, as if this was just another awkward interaction to brush past like she used to.

The girl blinked, her confidence visibly cracking. “It’s Jade,” she muttered, her tone defensive.

Azzi chuckled softly, clearly enjoying how effortlessly Paige had diffused the moment. She leaned in closer, her fingers trailing lightly down Paige’s arm before stopping to give her hand a gentle squeeze. Azzi’s voice dropped, just loud enough for Paige to hear. “Go on, don't let me keep you from your chat with Nika.”

Paige’s lips quirked in a subtle smile as she glanced at Azzi. “Oh wow, thanks for the permission,” she teased lightly, her tone playful.

Azzi’s eyes sparkled with humor as she looked back at Jade. “So…now that we have that figured out Jade.” She leaned back, casually resting her hand on Paige’s thigh. “It was nice of you to stop by. I always love a good chat with one of Paige’s old friends.”

Jade looked between them, clearly unsure how to proceed. Paige, finally chiming in as Azzi’s fingers squeezed her thigh, glanced at Azzi. “You having fun, huh?” she asked, her tone warm and teasing.

Azzi grinned, brushing her lips against Paige’s temple. “Always, baby.” She turned her gaze back to Jade. “Thank you for the drink,” Azzi added with a dismissive smile.

Jade hesitated for a moment longer before stepping back. “Well… maybe I’ll see you around,” she said, her tone hollow as she directed a few last words at Paige.

“Maybe,” Azzi replied smoothly, her attention already shifting back to Paige as Jade walked away.

Paige watched her go before breaking into a soft laugh, shaking her head as she leaned into Azzi’s space. “You really are a little crazy,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Azzi’s lips curved into a slow, confident smile as she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I think you like when I do that,” she said, her tone low and teasing. “You like seeing me put girls in their place.”

Paige bit her lip, her cheeks warming as she let out a breathy chuckle. “I mean,” she started, leaning closer so only Azzi could hear, her voice dropping. “I can’t disagree. It’s definitely sexy.”

Azzi’s grin widened, satisfaction evident in her expression. She leaned in just enough to brush her nose against Paige’s cheek before whispering, “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping.”

Paige shook her head with a smile, her gaze lingering on Azzi before finally settling back into their conversation with the team. 

…

The final moments of the year started to tick away and the energy in the room was electric. The entire team had moved into the crowd, drawn by the anticipation of the New Year's Eve countdown. Laughter and excitement filled the air as everyone squeezed in together, ready to welcome the new year. Paige and Azzi, of course, were right next to each other, their fingers intertwined and their hands resting comfortably against each other’s bodies. The closeness between them felt natural, effortless, as if the countdown itself was a part of the rhythm they'd already established together.

The countdown began, the voices of friends and strangers alike filling the bar as everyone joined in. “Ten! Nine! Eight…” The cheers grew louder with each passing second, but Paige’s focus was entirely on Azzi. The way the dim lights glinted off her hair, the way Azzi’s eyes shone when they met Paige’s, everything about her pulled Paige in deeper.

“Three! Two! One!” The room erupted in cheers, the sound of laughter and shouts filling the air as fireworks erupted outside. But for Paige and Azzi, time seemed to slow as the world around them disappeared. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s neck, her fingers lightly tracing the skin as she pulled her in close. Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s hips, drawing her in, as the two of them shared a long, slow kiss.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity, neither of them willing to let go. The taste of Azzi lingered on Paige’s lips as their bodies pressed closer, as though the kiss itself was a promise—one they had already made and couldn’t break.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathless, Paige’s heart pounded in her chest. She blinked rapidly as her hand found Azzi’s cheek, still feeling the heat from their kiss. And before she could stop herself, the words slipped out—soft, breathless, and entirely unintentional.

“God, I love you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Paige froze, her eyes wide in shock. Her stomach dropped in a mix of panic and realization, as if she’d just said something irreversible. She felt the air in her lungs stutter, unsure whether she should take the words back or let them linger. Her chest tightened with nervousness, the sound of the countdown still echoing in her mind as she waited for Azzi’s response.

But when Paige met Azzi’s gaze, the look on her face was pure awe, like the words she’d just said were the most precious thing she’d ever heard. Azzi’s lips parted slightly, her eyes softening, drinking in every second of the moment.

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. She simply stared at Paige, almost as if she were taking in the weight of those words, letting them settle into the space between them. But Paige, still reeling from her own confession, began to pull away, her nerves getting the better of her. She couldn’t believe she’d said it—couldn’t believe she’d just admitted it out loud. She fucked everything up.

But before she could pull too far back, Azzi’s hands found her again, one gently cupping her face, the other sliding around her back. “Don’t run,” Azzi whispered softly. “You don’t have to run from me Paige.”

Paige met Azzi’s gaze, her heart hammering in her chest, her voice caught in her throat. She tried to breathe deeply, to steady herself, but Azzi’s words were like a soft balm to her panic.

“Be my girlfriend,” Azzi said, her voice steady but full of warmth and tenderness. “Please. So I can tell you every day how much I love you.”

Paige blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. She wasn’t sure how to respond, her thoughts swirling, but Azzi’s eyes were filled with sincerity, and there was no question in the way Azzi was looking at her—only the desire to make her feel safe, loved, and wanted.

“Huh?” Paige managed to say, her voice soft, surprised, and a little nervous. She hadn’t expected this—not like this, not yet.

Azzi laughed gently, her laughter soothing Paige’s nerves. “I said,” she repeated, her voice dripping with affection. “Be my girlfriend. I want to be with you. I want to love you. Let me do that.”

And that was it. In that moment, everything else fell away. There was no more hesitation. No more fear. Paige’s heart swelled, her mind quieting, and she smiled, finally, with a soft, relieved laugh. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but clear as day. “I will.”

Azzi’s smile stretched across her face as she pulled Paige back in, kissing her again. This time, it was softer, gentler, but no less full of emotion. Their kiss lingered, the pressure of it tender as if they were committing the moment to memory, holding it close for the future. When they finally pulled apart, neither of them wanted to speak, but both knew that everything was different now.

Paige, her heart still racing, looked into Azzi’s eyes and whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She nodded with a soft smile, her fingers lacing effortlessly with Paige’s as she let her lead the way. Together, they wove through the crowd, their hands tightly clasped. Paige caught Nika’s eye from across the room and gave her a small nod, signaling that they were leaving. Nika smirked knowingly, nodding her approval as Paige and Azzi slipped out the door.

The crisp night air hit them as they stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the warmth and noise of the bar. The snow-dusted streets sparkled under the streetlights, and the faint hum of the city surrounded them. Paige’s hand stayed firmly in Azzi’s, her thumb brushing lightly over Azzi’s knuckles here and there, an unspoken gesture of reassurance.

They walked in companionable silence, the warmth of their drinks still lingering in their systems, though it was quickly overshadowed by the buzz of simply being together. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional car passing by or laughter echoing faintly from another nearby bar.

As they strolled, they passed a brightly lit Dairy Queen. Azzi’s steps faltered slightly, her gaze lingering on the building. Paige noticed immediately, a small laugh escaping her lips.

“You want ice cream, don’t you?” Paige asked, her voice filled with playful amusement.

Azzi tried to feign innocence, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her. “Who says I want ice cream?” she teased, a smile tugging at her lips.

Paige shook her head, already tugging Azzi toward the entrance. “You don’t have to say it, Fudd. I know you too well.”

The bell above the door jingled softly as they stepped inside, greeted by the warmth of the shop and the sweet smell of waffle cones. Azzi’s eyes lit up as she scanned the menu, her focus shifting to the options in front of her. Paige leaned against the counter, her gaze fixed on Azzi with a fond smile.

“What’re you thinking?” Paige asked, her voice soft, almost teasing.

Azzi didn’t look away from the menu. “Chocolate fudge brownie,” she said with mock seriousness, as if it were a life-changing decision.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “Solid choice. I’ll get mint chocolate chip, but fair warning—I’m stealing some of yours.”

Azzi shot her a playful glare. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are, my girlfriend now” Paige countered, smirking.

Once they had their ice cream, they continued their walk through the quiet streets. The faint crunch of snow underfoot accompanied the occasional bump of their shoulders as they strolled side by side, their breaths visible in the cold air. Paige glanced at Azzi, her lips quirking into a small smile.

“You’re the only person I know who’d want ice cream when there’s snow on the ground,” Paige said, her tone teasing.

Azzi turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re literally eating ice cream right now.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Yeah, because if I didn’t, you would’ve refused to get any.”

“That’s not true,” Azzi argued, though her expression betrayed her.

Paige gave her a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Both of us know better.”

Azzi shook her head, a chuckle slipping from her lips as they fell into a comfortable silence. The streets were deserted, the only sounds coming from their footsteps and the faint hum of the city in the distance. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, adding to the quiet beauty of the night.

For a moment, Paige just enjoyed the simplicity of being with Azzi, the warmth of her presence cutting through the chill in the air. But as they continued walking, her thoughts began to spill out.

Paige began, her voice softer now, “I really love you, you know I meant it when I said that right?”

Azzi glanced over at her, a small, dimpled smile breaking across her face as she took another bite of her ice cream. “I do know that,” she said warmly.

Paige’s cheeks reddened slightly, but she pressed on, her words tumbling out like a confession she couldn’t hold onto anymore. “I just..I want you to know that I want this…I want us to be more than just something we look back on from college Az. I want a future with you. I was daydreaming about you walking down the aisle the other day, and I thought I was insane. She paused, glancing at Azzi, who was watching her intently as she talked. “I just…I don’t know what I’d do without you anymore. You’re it for me.”

Azzi slowed her pace, turning to look fully at Paige. Her expression was filled with awe, her eyes shining under the soft glow of the streetlights. “Paige–” she began, her voice full of emotion, “I want a future with you too…I want nothing more than to come home to you everyday for the rest of my life.” 

Paige blinked, her heart swelling as Azzi continued.

“I’ll admit, it scared the hell out of me at first,” Azzi said, her voice quieter now. “We’ve only known each other for half a year and I would do anything for you. It feels like I’ve known you my whole life. Like…a part of me was waiting for you, and I’m discovering so much about myself the more I get to know you.”

Paige’s steps faltered slightly as she processed Azzi’s words, her chest tightening in the best way. She stopped, turning fully toward Azzi and searching her eyes for any hint of doubt—but all she saw was warmth and certainty.

“You mean that?” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle hush of the falling snow.

Azzi nodded, her dimples deepening as she gave Paige a soft smile. “Every word,” she said.

Paige’s breath hitched, and she reached out, her fingers brushing Azzi’s cheek. “You make me feel like I can do anything, like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.”

Azzi leaned into Paige’s touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “That’s because you are,” she replied.. “And if I have anything to say about it, you always will be.”

Paige’s lips quirked into a small smile as she stepped closer, the space between them vanishing. “How did I get so lucky?” she asked, her thumb gently tracing along Azzi’s cheekbone.

Azzi’s eyes sparkled as she tilted her head, closing the remaining distance between them. “I think we both got lucky,” she murmured before pressing her lips to Paige’s in a kiss that was soft. 

The world around them seemed to fade as they melted into each other, the warmth of the kiss cutting through the cold air. Paige’s free hand settled on Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer, while Azzi’s fingers threaded through Paige’s hair, anchoring her in the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths visible in the chill of the night.

“I used to think I didn’t have time for this. That I didn’t want anything like this,” Paige admitted, her voice low.

Azzi smiled, her hand sliding down to rest on Paige’s shoulders. “And now?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Paige let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling impossibly full. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to imagine it.”

They stood there for a moment longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, the snow continuing to fall around them. The quiet streets felt like their own little world, one where nothing existed but the love they shared.

Finally, Paige broke the silence with a playful grin. “Come on, we’re going to freeze out here.”

Azzi laughed, her dimples reappearing as she reluctantly stepped back. “Okay, but only because I don’t want you blaming me if you catch a cold. You’re a nightmare when you’re sick.”

Paige laced her fingers with Azzi’s, her grip firm and reassuring as they resumed their walk. Their shoulders bumped again, but this time it was intentional, a silent exchange of affection that needed no words.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Actually for the recent dreams, I figured Deuce doesn't really want to go back to being a delinquent but he does think things were easier so he somewhat wishes things were still like that (wasn't he somewhat considered an honor student with. whatever weird standarts the school had in his dream? i don't remember)

For Cater.... It did feel kinda relevant that he didn't know why he dreamt of that, actually. I wouldn't know how so exactly... Like idk the fact even then he doesn't want Riddle to know? Someone suggested he masks so much he doesn't even know what he actually wants (which broke me a little). Also I will be overthinking the fact his first flashback was triggered by Trey saying he'll take care of everything thank you. Overall I still hope he'll get more character moments in the next dreams (trey dream save me) but it's probably wishful thinking.

I guess convenience would make sense for Deuce's dream...? I feel like the same thing could be achieved by making him an actual honors student (while also dumbing down the materials to make it more suitable for his current level of academic understanding). Still, I can't help but feel that the devs took the former route (again, despite Deuce not actively longing for his delinquent days) because the dreams are really just excuses to show us concepts that have been teased for a while (like king!Leona, Savanaclaw!Rook, or delinquent!Deuce) for fanservice.

I definitely felt that Cater's dream was quite wonderlandiful in spirit and a mishmash of various "fun" elements. If it was an issue of him not knowing his own identity due to so frequently masking, I feel like they should have better hinted at it throughout the dream like they did with Deuce. As it currently stands, I'm not sure if they did a good job of leading us to that conclusion. It only makes sense if you extrapolate it or bring in outside details, such as waaay earlier in book 7, where Cater expressed not knowing what he wanted to do for his fourth-year internship(s), or bring in events/vignettes, like how Cater gives superficial and fake wishes to the Star Sending every year.

I don't think it's strange that Cater doesn't want Riddle to know about the contents of his dream. If anything, it's sort of expected. Cater's the type that dislikes confrontation and wishes to avoid his dorm leader's wrath at all times. If Riddle heard about Cater's chaotic version of Heartslabyul and how lenient dream!Riddle was about all of it, Cater would surely lose his head 😭

I hope that we get something more meaningful out of Cater when he comes with us to Trey's dream... Maybe something addressing how he longs for Trey's companionship but can't bring himself to just... be open about it. After all, Cater has expressed on more than one occasion that he lowkey desires this and to be heard out by TREY specifically. Trey is the one person who consistently noticed Cater's fakeness. And, of course, a memory of Trey thanking him is the first vision Cater has when he begins to question the reality of his dream.

[eldritchxembers]

Jack chuckled at Dimi’s comment, his grin wide and his eyes sparkling. "Yeah, he really did say that," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "As sure as my name’s Jack." He was completely at ease, this was his element - it was what he was good at and good for -- finding people and focusing all of his attention on them, so he could learn about them.

When Dimi teased him about finding a handsome man to hang his hat on, Jack raised an eyebrow, enjoying the flirtation. "Well, if you think I’m cute, I’m sure there’s someone else around here who’s even more so," he said. "But no promises." Jack laughed when Dimi mentioned compliments going to his head. "I’ve got more where that came from," he said. "But if just the couple I've given you have you like this -- maybe I should save some compliments for next time."

Of course then, Dimi was talking about going the cowboy route, and when Dimi brought up wearing chaps, Jack’s grin widened. "Oh, you’d rock 'em," he said, his voice full of honest glee. "Chaps could definitely be your thing." He let his eyes roam over Dimi briefly before adding, "Just... don’t wear 'em too tight, alright?" The flirtation was light but genuine, and Jack was enjoying every second of it.

Jack pulled Dimi a little closer, his hand resting comfortably at his waist as they continued to move together. "You’re not half bad for someone who was stiff at first," Jack teased, leaning in closer to whisper in Dimi’s ear, his breath warm against his skin. "Next time, grab any old stranger and dance with them, I think you'd have fun." It was when Dimi mentioned photographing him, that Jack’s eyebrow quirked, clearly intrigued. "You want to take pictures of me?" he asked, his voice full of playful curiosity. "Little Ole' Me? Just a drifter fresh off the train? Hell's bells ... that sounds like a good time... but not sure what you'd get out of professionally. Personally though - I have ideas."

But Dimi was right; they needed to sit and drink, so they made their way to the bar, the atmosphere between them light and full of energy. Jack sat down next to Dimi, glancing at him with a teasing grin. "Rum and Coke - heavy on the coke, light on the rum," he said. "I still need to figure out how to get to the Inn after this. I have a bed there, but - I found the bar first. So, here I've been. All the regulars here have been so chatty and welcoming... so, what about you Dimi -- new in town or full of stories from growing up in this little, strange town?"

"Your dad really said that?" Dimi asked, an amused smirk on his face. "He must be a cool guy then. Don't get me wrong, when my dad found out I was bisexual, he was totally on board with it. But he never had sayings like that - your father is a wise man." Dimi was glad to have casually worked into conversation that he was receptive to whatever was happening here, even if it was just innocent flirting. Jack was cute and funny, and Dimi was definitely enjoying the conversation with the man. "If you're looking for a handsome man to hang your hat on, I'm sure we can find someone here," Dimi teased, pretending to look around the bar before turning back to Jack and laughing. "Sugar?" Dimi asked, smirking once more. He kind of liked how that sounded. "You're full of compliments tonight," Dimi went on. "Careful because it might go to my head." Adjusting the hat slightly, Dimi asked, "Do you think I should go the full cowboy route? Chaps and the whole deal?" Yes, Dimi wanted to put the image of himself in chaps into Jack's head. It was a little shameless, but only a little.

Once on the dance floor, Dimi was feeling a little self-conscious. He started off stiff, trying to find his rhythm, but Jack had a way of making him feel more comfortable. Soon he was falling into line a little bit with the other man, loosening up a bit, and it helped that Jack was touching him. There was definitely some heat between them. Whether or not it would go anywhere remained to be seen, but even if nothing happened, it was still nice to flirt and talk with a handsome man. For Jack's part, he was moving with so much grace, like he'd done this a million times, and Dimi was transfixed; there was something about the way the man moved his body that was so enticing, and for a moment he stopped dancing and just watched. Yeah...Dimi was in trouble.

They kept dancing and talking until eventually Jack grabbed his hand, moving in close. Dimi had a few inches on the man, and he turned to face him, looking down into his eyes and smiling. They weren't quite dancing anymore, not line dancing at least, but Dimi didn't much care right now. "Photographer, yeah," he confirmed. "Well my passion is more landscapes and the natural moments. Basically I like capturing images of things the way they really are, finding beauty in the reality of things. But admittedly photoshoots for things like weddings and graduations and other special events is what pays the bills." Dimi laughed, and he did like taking those kinds of photos. It just wasn't his favorite thing. "What about you, Jack?" Dimi asked, looking at the man and smiling still. "Would ever want me to photograph you?" Dimi was pretty sure he could find the beauty in Jack without even trying.

After they danced for a bit longer, Dimi was feeling much more fluid in his motions, and he was having a good time with the other man. Still, the dance floor wasn't the best place to have a conversation, so Dimi asked, "Do you want a drink? I'll buy?" And then he grabbed Jack's hand, warming to the touch, and he led him back to the bar. Sitting in a stool, Dimi asked, "What are you having?"

[coolnonsenseworld]

A little promo with my little obsession on the side...........

Reminder all items are shipped from Poland - for details on shipping times check out FAQ or send me a private message!

 mmezzy.bigcartel.com

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[liquidstar]

A lot of you guys in the replies had really good/funny things to say about the concept of a "subaru being technically under house arrest in the felt camp route" tags and I'd love to talk about it w you too but I feel kinda bad taking over ops post 😭

[mechahero]

//Remembered this post again and it’s got me thinking. Maybe the anachronism doesn't just have to extend to the technology in Motor City too? Locations could also be hit with that weird sense of timelessness where it's both extremely modern and yet would not look out of place in 2005. Interior wise though. Not much about the outside of the buildings because those tend not to go through drastic changes often.

Or maybe the idea of someone walking into a building in Motor City only to be immediately in the face with the most early 2000s decor strewn about the place is a bit amusing to me.

[thedeadthree]

— TAG GAME.

TAGGED BY the dear @marivenah and @leviiackrman to answer a few questions! ty ty so much love!

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @jendoe, @kingsroad, @chuckhansen, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @denerims, @phillipsgraves, @jillvlntine, @morvaris, @aartyom, @minaharkers, @unholymilf, @leviiackrman, @jacobseed, @arklay, @corvosattano, @jackiesarch, @malefiicarum, @pearlcscent, @shellibisshe, @weisshaupts, @shadowglens, @leondaltons, @adelaidedrubman, @florbelles, @belorage, @confidentandgood, @girlbosselrond, @thee-morrigan, @rosebarsoap, @fragilestorm, @lacunafiction, @noonfaerie and you!

THREE SHIPS: inspired by mari <3!

THREE CANON SHIPS: geralt x yennefer, corlys velaryon x rhaenys targaryen, and arianne martell x daemon sand!

THREE OC SHIPS: iovanna dayne x daemon targaryen, edelgard vanderweyden x reese verner, maekar targaryen x aeryal arvel (carolines dear!)

THREE MUTUALS SHIPS: mo @kingsroad's alyse x aegon (they mean the world to me!), ash @unholymilf's iconic varya x roman (forever the moment!), airika @chuckhansen's nina x adam (the loveliest! they're dear to me!)

FIRST SHIP: oo ok ok i want to say my first ship was I think? rajaion and ena from fire emblem path of radiance? that or? selina kyle/catwoman and bruce wayne!

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: an iced coffee ajanjnsk bc i am a responsible adult <3.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: my 3829838th rewatch of house of the dragon <3 am i surprised? nay nay! its not at all for oc lore! (leg says like a liar jnjanj <3)

LAST MOVIE: the batman! <3 and one i recently adored seeing was bullet train as well! (ty ty orion and ash for introducing me bc of ur ocs u dears u!)

LAST SONG: its been stuck in my head all week! the fruits by paris paloma <3

CURRENTLY READING: rereading fernweh saga by the dear aelsa! and fire and blood by george rr martin <3 (leg once again says its bc they want know more of what’s in store for the characters and not for oc lore at all like a liar <3)

CURRENTLY CRAVING: my mom is making sauce so i have pasta on the brain <3

[dirt-str1der]

Wrt the previous post i still get so mad about how stupid some people are about that like okay thank you for letting me know you failed basic reading comprehension

[todayisafridaynight]

through all the practice sawashiro fights ive done this morning ive decided he has a really weird grudge against eri for whatever reason

[ceilidhtransing]

The discussions around whether or not to vote for Kamala keep being dominated by very loud voices shouting that anyone who advocates for her “just doesn't care about Palestine!” and “is willing to overlook genocide!” and “has no moral backbone at all!” And while some of these voices will be bots, trolls, psyops - we know that this happens; we know that trying to persuade progressives to split the vote or not vote at all is a strategy employed by hostile actors - of course many of them won't be. But what this rhetoric does is continually force the “you should vote for her” crowd onto the back foot of having to go to great lengths writing entire essays justifying their choice, while the “don't vote/vote third party” crowd is basically never asked to justify their choice. It frames voting for Kamala as a deeply morally compromised position that requires extensive justification while framing not voting or voting third party as the neutral and morally clean stance.

So here's another way of looking at it. How much are you willing to accept in order to feel like you're not compromising your morals on one issue?

Are you willing to accept the 24% rise in maternal deaths - and 39% increase for Black women - that is expected under a federal abortion ban, according to the Centre for American Progress? Those percentages represent real people who are alive now who would die if the folks behind Project 2025 get their way with reproductive healthcare.

Are you willing to accept the massive acceleration of climate change that would result from the scrapping of all climate legislation? We don't have time to fuck around with the environment. A gutting of climate policy and a prioritisation of fossil fuel profits, which is explicitly promised by Trump, would set the entire world back years - years that we don't have.

Are you willing to accept the classification of transgender visibility as inherently “pornographic” and thus the removal of trans people from public life? Are you willing to accept the total elimination of legal routes for gender-affirming care? The people behind the Trump campaign want to drive queer and trans people back underground, back into the closet, back into “criminality”. This will kill people. And it's maddening that caring about this gets called “prioritising white gays over brown people abroad” as if it's not BIPOC queer and trans Americans who will suffer the most from legislative queer- and transphobia, as they always do.

Are you willing to accept the domestic deployment of the military to crack down on protests and enforce racist immigration policy? I'm sure it's going to be very easy to convince huge numbers of normal people to turn up to protests and get involved in political organising when doing so may well involve facing down an army deployed by a hardcore authoritarian operating under the precedent that nothing he does as president can ever be illegal.

Are you willing to accept a president who openly talks about wanting to be a dictator, plans on massively expanding presidential powers, dehumanises his political enemies and wants the DOJ to “go after them”, and assures his supporters they won't have to vote again? If you can't see the danger of this staring you right in the face, I don't know what to tell you. Allowing a wannabe dictator to take control of the most powerful country on earth would be absolutely disastrous for the entire world.

Are you willing to accept an enormous uptick in fascism and far-right authoritarianism worldwide? The far right in America has huge influence over an entire international network of “anti-globalists”, hardcore anti-immigrant xenophobes, transphobic extremists, and straight-up fascists. Success in America aids and emboldens these people everywhere.

Are you willing to accept an enormous number of preventable deaths if America faces a crisis in the next four years: a public health emergency, a natural disaster, an ecological catastrophe? We all saw how Trump handled Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. We all saw how Trump handled Covid-19. He fanned the flames of disaster with a constant flow of medical misinformation and an unspeakably dangerous undermining of public health experts. It's estimated that 40% of US pandemic deaths could have been avoided if the death rates had corresponded to those in other high-income countries. That amounts to nearly half a million people. One study from January 2021 estimated between around 4,200 and 12,200 preventable deaths attributable purely to Trump's statements about masks. We're highly unlikely to face another global pandemic in the next few years but who knows what crises are coming down the pipeline?

Are you willing to accept the attempted deportation of millions - millions - of undocumented people? This is “rounding people up and throwing them into camps where no one ever hears from them again” territory. That's a blueprint for genocide right there and it's a core tenet of both Trump's personal policy and Project 2025. And of course they wouldn't be going after white people. They most likely wouldn't even restrict their tyranny to people who are actually undocumented. Anyone racially othered as an “immigrant” would be at risk from this.

Are you willing to accept not just the continuation of the current situation in Palestine, but the absolute annihilation of Gaza and the obliteration of any hope for imminent peace? There is no way that Trump and the people behind him would not be catastrophically worse for Gaza than Kamala or even Biden. Only recently he was telling donors behind closed doors that he wanted to “set the [Palestinian] movement back 25 or 30 years” and that “any student that protests, I throw them out of the country”. This is not a man who can be pushed in a direction more conducive to peace and justice. This is a man who listens to his wealthy donors, his Christian nationalist Republican allies, and himself.

Are you willing to accept a much heightened risk of nuclear war? Obviously this is hardly a Trump policy promise. But I can't think of a single president since the Cold War who is more likely to deploy nuclear weapons, given how casually he talks about wanting to use them and how erratic and unstable he can be in his dealings with foreign leaders. To quote Foreign Policy only this year, “Trump told a crowd in January that one of the reasons he needed immunity was so that he couldn’t be indicted for using nuclear weapons on a city.” That's reassuring. I'm not even in the US and I remember four years of constant background low-level terror that Trump would take offence at something some foreign leader said or think that he needs to personally intervene in some military situation to “sort it out” and decide to launch the entire world into nuclear war. No one sane on earth wants the most powerful person on the planet to be as trigger-happy and careless with human life as he is, especially if he's running the White House like a dictator with no one ever telling him no. But depending on what Americans do in November, he may well be inflicted again on all of us, and I guess we'll all just have to hope that he doesn't do the worst thing imaginable.

“But I don't want those things! Stop accusing me of supporting things I don't support!” Yes, of course you don't want those things. None of us does. No one's saying that you actively support them. No one's accusing you of wanting Black women to die from ectopic pregnancies or of wanting to throw Hispanic people in immigrant detention centres or of wanting trans people to be outlawed (unlike, I must point out, the extremely emotive and personal accusations that get thrown around about “wanting Palestinian children to die” if you encourage people to vote for Kamala).

But if you're advocating against voting for Kamala, you are clearly willing to accept them as possible consequences of your actions. That is the deal you're making. If a terrible thing happening is the clear and easily foreseeable outcome of your action (or in the case of not voting, inaction), in a way that could have been prevented by taking a different and just as easy action, you are partly responsible for that consequence. (And no, it's not “a fear campaign” to warn people about things he's said, things he wants to do, and plans drawn up by his close allies. This is not “oooh the Democrats are trying to bully you into voting for them by making him out to be really bad so you'll feel scared and vote for Kamala!” He is really bad, in obvious and documented and irrefutable ways.)

And if you believe that “both parties are the same on Gaza” (which, you know, they really aren't, but let's just pretend that they are) then presumably you accept that the horrors being committed there will continue, in the immediate term anyway, regardless of who wins the presidency. Because there really isn't some third option that will appear and do everything we want. It's going to be one of those two. And we can talk all day about wanting a better system or how unfair it is that every presidential election only ever has two viable candidates and how small the Overton window is and all that but hell, we are less than eighty days out from the election; none of that is going to get fixed between now and November. Electoral reform is a long-term (but important!) goal, not something that can be effected in the span of a couple of months by telling people online to vote third party. There is no “instant ceasefire and peace negotiation” button that we're callously overlooking by encouraging people to vote for Kamala. (My god, if there was, we would all be pressing it.)

If we're suggesting people vote for her, it's not that we “are willing to overlook genocide” or “don't care about sacrificing brown people abroad” or whatever. Nothing is being “overlooked” here. It's that we're simply not willing to accept everything else in this post and more on top of continued atrocities in Gaza. We're not willing to take Trump and his godawful far-right authoritarian agenda as an acceptable consequence of feeling like we have the moral high ground on Palestine. I cannot stress enough that if Kamala doesn't win, we - we all, in the whole world - get Trump. Are you willing to accept that?

And one more point to address: I've seen too many people act frighteningly flippant and naïve about terrible things Trump or his campaign want to do, with the idea that people will simply be able to prevent all these bad things by “organising” and “protesting” and “collective action”. “I'm not willing to accept these things; that's why I'll fight them tooth and nail every day of their administration” - OK but if you're not even willing to cast a vote then I have doubts about your ability to form “the Resistance”, which by the way would have to involve cooperation with people of lots of progressive political stripes in order to have the manpower to be effective, and if you're so committed to political purity that you view temporarily lending your support to Kamala at the ballot box as an untenable betrayal of everything you stand for then forgive me for also doubting your ability to productively cooperate with allies on the ground with whom you don't 100% agree. Plus, if the Trump campaign gets its way, American progressives would be kept so busy trying to put out about twenty different fires at once that you'd be able to accomplish very little. Maybe you get them to soften their stance on trans healthcare but oh shit, the climate policies are still in place. But more importantly, how many people do you think will protest for abortion rights if doing so means staring down a gun? Or organise to protect their neighbours from deportation if doing so means being thrown in prison yourself? And OK, maybe you're sure that you will, but history has shown us time and time again that most people won't. Most people aren't willing to face that kind of personal risk. And a tiny number of lefties willing to risk incarceration or death to protect undocumented people or trans people or whatever other groups are targeted is sadly not enough to prevent the horrors from happening. That is small fry compared to the full might of a determined state. Of course if the worst happens and Trump wins then you should do what you can to mitigate the harm; I'm not saying you shouldn't. But really the time to act is now. You have an opportunity right here to mitigate the harm and it's called “not letting him get elected”. Act now to prevent that kind of horrific authoritarian situation from developing in the first place; don't sit this one out under the naïve belief that “we'll be able to stop it if it happens”. You won't.

[snekdood]

the thing about this whole situation is- it really opened my eyes up. I already thought it was shitty enough when no one believed me about my own trauma, but I dismissed it with "ah well, they weren't there so Ig I can't blame them" but. there's plenty of fuckin evidence these rapes happened, and it's still not enough for the shitty types of "leftist" out there, or they try to act like its justified. it's really put things in perspective for me in regards to my own situation- I could have straight up video footage of my abusive ex sexually assaulting me and ya'll would find a way to disbelieve it or pretend its justified, and for that alone I'm revoking your leftist card and your ability to keep pretending you care about victims.

[yongseungkim]

.

[femonologue]

Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.

I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.

A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.

"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.

She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"

"What's a tulip?" I ask.

"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."

"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.

I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.

"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.

I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.

It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"

I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.

"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."

I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."

We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.

I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.

By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.

Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.

When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.

After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.

I never see grunge girl again.

That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.

[luna-azzurra]

How To Write A Chase Scene

Before anyone takes off running, the reader needs to know why this matters. The chase can’t just be about two people running, it’s gotta have a reason. Is your hero sprinting for their life because the villain has a knife? Or maybe they’re chasing someone who just stole something valuable, and if they don’t catch them, it’s game over for everyone. Whatever the reason, make it clear early on. The higher the stakes, the more the reader will care about how this chase plays out. They’ll feel that surge of panic, knowing what’s on the line.

Sure, a chase scene is fast, people are running, dodging, maybe even falling. But not every second needs to be at full speed. If it’s too frantic from start to finish, the reader might get numb to the action. Instead, throw in some rhythm. Use quick, sharp sentences when things get intense, like someone stumbling or almost getting caught. But then slow it down for a second. Maybe they hit a dead end or pause to look around. Those brief moments of slow-down add suspense because they feel like the calm before the storm kicks up again.

Don’t let the setting just be a backdrop. The world around them should become a part of the chase. Maybe they’re tearing through a marketplace, dodging carts and knocking over tables, or sprinting down alleyways with trash cans crashing behind them. If they’re running through the woods, you’ve got low-hanging branches, roots, slippery mud, and the constant threat of tripping. Describing the environment makes the scene more vivid, but it also adds layers of tension. It’s not just two people running in a straight line, it’s two people trying to navigate through chaos.

Running isn’t easy, especially when you’re running for your life. This isn’t some smooth, graceful sprint where they look cool the whole time. Your character’s lungs should be burning, their legs aching, maybe their side starts to cramp. They’re gasping for air, barely holding it together. These details will remind the reader that this chase is taking a real toll. And the harder it gets for your character to keep going, the more the tension ramps up because the reader will wonder if they’ll actually make it.

Don’t make it too easy. The villain should almost catch your hero or the hero should almost grab the villain. But something happens last second to change the outcome. Maybe the villain’s fingers brush the hero’s coat as they sprint around a corner, but they manage to slip out of reach just in time. Or maybe your hero almost gets close enough to tackle the villain, but slips on some gravel, losing precious seconds.

And Don’t let the chase end in a way that feels too predictable. Whether your character gets away or is caught, it should be because of something clever. Maybe they spot a hiding place that’s almost impossible to notice, or they use their surroundings to mislead their pursuer. Or, the person chasing them pulls a fast one, Laying a trap, cutting off their escape route, or sending the hero down the wrong path. You want the end to feel earned, like it took quick thinking and ingenuity, not just dumb luck or fate.