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lanadelspray02 · 1 day ago

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HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 13

paige x azzi

hey guys! enjoy. thank you to everyone showing so much love :) let me know what y'all think <3

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 8545

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The locker room still buzzed faintly with morning energy, sneakers squeaking on tiles, laughter echoing off the cement walls, the low hum of pre-game chatter filling the space like static. Light streamed through the high windows in pale beams, catching on rising dust and the occasional glint of athletic tape or a metal water bottle. The air carried the usual smell of eucalyptus balm and detergent, mixed with something heavier, anticipation.

Paige stood by her locker, towel slung over one shoulder, hair half-wet and curling slightly at the edges. She moved slowly, methodically like her body was going through the motions, but her mind was pacing somewhere else. The truth was, her stomach had been twisted in anxious knots all day. Game day was always a little electric, but this one carried extra voltage.

Because her mum was coming.

And not just her mum—but her half-siblings, Lauren and Ryan. She hadn’t seen them in months. And her mum? She hadn’t seen her at a game since high school. Paige knew exactly how it would go, tight smiles, measured critiques, maybe a hug that felt more like obligation than warmth. And still, part of her wanted to get it right. To show up. To impress. To prove... something.

And then there was this, Azzi. Them. The fact that they were finally something real now. Official. She hadn’t told the whole team yet. Only Nika and KK knew, and Paige was still figuring out how to hold something so new and good without letting the whole world pick it apart.

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Azzi was finishing lacing her sneakers on the bench nearby, back slightly hunched, earbuds dangling from around her neck. Her hoodie sleeves were shoved to her elbows, curls pulled up into a messy bun. Paige watched her from the corner of her eye, a softness melting into her features that she didn’t even try to hide.

She waited until the room cleared out a bit more, Nika had wandered off in search of snacks, Caroline and Ines had gone to the training room, KK and Ice doing some random tik tok dance and the general chaos of post-practice had quieted to a low murmur. Then, moving with deliberate lightness, Paige crept up behind Azzi like a shadow slipping through light.

She let her hands slide slowly around Azzi’s waist, fingertips grazing the hem of her hoodie. “Hey.”

Azzi startled slightly but didn’t pull away. Her body relaxed almost instantly into the touch. “Paige,” she said, a smile forming without turning around. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

“I absolutely can,” Paige murmured, voice brushing just behind her ear. “Especially when you look this good after practice.”

Azzi huffed out a laugh. “Sweaty and sore is apparently your thing?”

“Only when it’s you.” Paige leaned in slightly, breath warm against Azzi’s neck. “What can I say? I have impeccable taste.”

Azzi turned her head just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. “You know we’re not exactly being subtle right now.”

Paige grinned. “You saying you want me to stop?”

Azzi shook her head slowly. “I’m saying you’re lucky most of the team isn’t in here right now.”

There was a pause. Not tense, just full.

Paige’s arms didn’t move. If anything, she held Azzi tighter, grounding herself in the quiet. “So... tonight.”

Azzi looked at her. “You nervous?”

“Terrified.”

Azzi softened. “Because of the game or because of who’s going to be in the stands?”

Paige shook her head once. “Because of who’s in the stands.”

Azzi’s gaze shifted, catching the shadow behind Paige’s words. “Your mum.”

“And Lauren and Ryan,” Paige added. “They’re excited. My mum... she’s complicated. She’s always made me feel like I had to earn her approval just to exist in her version of my life.”

Azzi turned fully in Paige’s arms now, reaching up to brush a damp piece of hair away from her forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything to her.”

“I know,” Paige said. “But it doesn’t stop me from trying.”

There was another pause, quieter this time. Paige drew in a slow breath, her fingers unconsciously brushing the back of Azzi’s hoodie.

“I was thinking,” she said, voice low. “If... if you wanted to, maybe you could meet them. After the game.”

Azzi blinked. “Are you sure?”

Paige nodded, eyes steady. “You let me into your world. I want to let you into mine. I don’t want you to ever think I’m hiding you.”

Azzi smiled faintly, but her heart flipped at the softness in Paige’s voice. “Okay,” she said. “Then I’ll be there. But only if you’re sure.”

“I am,” Paige said. “Even if it goes sideways. I want you there.”

Azzi reached up and tucked another piece of hair behind Paige’s ear. “You’re braver than you think, you know that?”

“I fake it well,” Paige murmured.

Azzi leaned in and kissed her, soft, brief, grounding. When she pulled back, her thumb traced a light line along Paige’s jaw.

“You’re not faking it with me.”

Paige’s lips curved. “Good. Because you’re the only one I’m trying to impress.”

They stood there like that for a beat longer, bodies pressed together, the rest of the locker room forgotten. Outside, voices started drifting back in. Practice stragglers returning. The noise of routine starting up again.

Azzi pulled back with a soft breath, adjusting her hoodie and slinging her gym bag over her shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “If we keep standing here, Nika’s gonna come back and announce to the whole team that we’re making out behind the lockers.”

Paige smirked. “Technically not making out. Yet.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Don’t start.”

“I never stop,” Paige teased, bumping her shoulder against Azzi’s as they walked out together.

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The post-practice buzz still hung in the air, sneakers squeaking behind them as teammates trickled out of the locker room in small groups. Paige and Azzi had slipped away quietly, walking shoulder-to-shoulder down the long hallway toward the loading dock exit—away from the noise, away from the eyes.

Paige bumped her hand against Azzi’s once, a soft press of skin that said I’m here more than anything else. Azzi was still grinning, tired, a little flushed, but light in a way she hadn’t been all week.

But before they could make it to the door, two familiar voices rang out behind them.

“Well, well, well,” Caroline called, boots tapping quickly as she caught up. “Trying to sneak away like you don’t owe us details?”

Paige gave Azzi an amused look. “Should I be worried?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was already smiling. “Apparently.”

“Don’t worry, Bueckers,” Ines added as she joined Caroline’s side. “We’ll return her in mostly one piece.”

Paige gave Azzi a mock salute. “Be strong,” she said dramatically before continuing down the hallway, hands in her hoodie pockets.

Azzi turned back to face her friends, knowing exactly what was coming.

“So,” Caroline said, folding her arms. “Is that post-practice glow or post-girlfriend glow?”

Azzi hesitated just a beat, but the smile gave her away.

“She asked me last night,” she admitted softly. “It’s official.”

Caroline let out a tiny gasp. “Finally.”

Ines beamed. “I knew it. You’ve been moon-eyed for, like, well since you got here.”

“I know,” Azzi said, laughing quietly. “It’s kind of insane how fast everything’s shifted.”

“And yet,” Caroline said, stepping closer with a smile softening her voice, “you look... really happy.”

Azzi nodded, eyes warm. “I am. It’s still new, and we’re keeping it quiet for now, only KK and Nika know. So please…”

“You don’t even have to ask,” Ines said, hand to her chest. “Your secret’s safe. Until you decide otherwise.”

Caroline added, “But when you’re ready? We’re so ready to scream about it.”

Azzi laughed again, but her tone softened as she added, “You guys have really been there. With everything. I just.... thank you.”

Ines reached out and squeezed her wrist gently. “You don’t have to thank us. You’ve been carrying so much alone for so long. You deserve this.”

Caroline nodded, then teased, “Also, now that it’s official, we’re demanding one cute couple photo per week.”

“No promises,” Azzi said with a smirk.

They stood there for a moment in the quiet of the hallway, just three girls with a shared history and now a secret more tender than anything they’d passed between them before.

“Alright,” Azzi finally said, glancing toward the exit. “I better catch up with her.”

Caroline gave a mock bow. “Go be gross and in love. But like... discreetly. For now. Even though you both are doing a terrible job at hiding it.”

Azzi grinned, jogging to catch up with Paige, her chest full in the best kind of way.

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The court thundered above them.

Muffled cheers pulsed through the concrete as the crowd settled into their seats, the energy rising like a storm about to break. Inside the tunnel, the team huddled in a tight semicircle, jerseys sharp, nerves sharper. Warm-ups were done. Tip-off was minutes away.

Coach had just wrapped up the final speech, something about grit and tempo, about poise when it mattered. Paige barely heard it.

Her heart was doing that thing again. That fluttering, stuttering, too-loud beat that always came when something was about to go wrong. Or right. Or both.

She stood near the back, half-listening, her fingers tapping against her thigh. Sweat already collected along the edge of her sports bra, but she hadn’t moved in minutes.

Azzi was beside her. Not touching, not looking, but there. That presence that made it easier to breathe.

Paige risked a glance upward toward the arena’s sideline section. The lights made it hard to see faces clearly, but she knew the seats, row G, center aisle. The ones she’d sent the tickets to out of obligation more than hope.

They were there.

Her mum, in a fitted sweater, blonde hair clipped back as always. Posture straight. Expression unreadable.

Lauren and Ryan flanked her half siblings, half strangers. Both teens now. Taller. Older than the last time Paige had really seen them outside of awkward video calls and even more awkward holidays.

She hadn’t expected to feel this... flipped. Her stomach twisted like someone had cinched it tight.

A shoulder bumped hers, deliberate, grounding. Azzi.

Paige looked at her, just for a second. Azzi didn’t say anything. Just gave her a soft, knowing nod.

I’m here.

That was all it took.

Paige let out a slow breath, her jaw unclenching. She didn’t smile. Not yet. But her shoulders dropped half an inch. Enough.

Coach clapped his hands. “Let’s go, Huskies.”

The tunnel opened, and the team moved forward in a wave of muscle memory and adrenaline. As they lined up to run out, Paige found herself next to Azzi. They didn’t look at each other. Didn’t speak.

But just before they stepped into the light, Paige let her pinky brush Azzi’s. A whisper of contact.

Azzi glanced sideways, her face neutral to everyone else but her eyes burned soft.

They ran onto the court.

The crowd erupted.

And the game was about to begin.

The game tipped off and immediately spun sideways.

Paige missed her first shot.

Then her second.

By the end of the first quarter, she was 0-for-5, her stat line a mess of hesitation and forced plays. Nothing fell clean. Her timing was off, her footwork just half a beat late. And it wasn’t just physical, her brain kept drifting. Every time she glanced into the stands and caught the silhouette of her mother, stone-faced in row G, her hands would tense. Her vision would narrow. The crowd’s noise would turn muddy and sharp at the same time.

The second quarter wasn’t much better. She made one bad pass, then another. Turned the ball over on a drive she normally would’ve coasted through. A timeout came and went with Coach barking something about composure and flow, but the words skidded right off Paige’s armor.

Azzi, on the other hand, was locked in. Unbothered. Efficient.

By halftime, she’d sunk six threes and was the only thing keeping the team from bleeding out. Her defense was sharp, rotations tighter than they’d been all season. She wasn’t playing angry, she was playing focused. Like something inside her had sharpened to a single point.

Paige felt it from across the court. Saw Azzi’s shoulders rise and fall with steadiness after every play. Watched the way she reset her feet, called for the switch, stuck to her player like it was clockwork.

Meanwhile, Paige was unraveling by inches.

The scoreboard read 42–36.

UConn down by six.

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Inside the locker room, the air was taut. Shoes squeaked on tiles. Ice bags slapped skin. Someone cursed under their breath.

Coach ran through adjustments like usual, but everyone knew where the real shift had to come from.

Paige sat on the bench, jersey clinging to her back, head in her hands. The door was still swinging from when Coach exited.

Azzi crossed the room without hesitation, grabbing Paige by the wrist. “Come with me.”

Paige blinked up, confused. “Wait—”

“Now.”

She pulled her into the hallway, then ducked them both into a side room, equipment storage, by the look of it. A rack of clean towels and a stack of unopened ball bags took up one wall.

The door to the equipment room clicked softly behind them.

For a second, all Paige could hear was the hum of the overhead light and the thrum of her own pulse. The space was cramped and dim—shelves lined with folded towels, stacked training gear, a mop bucket in the corner that hadn’t moved since October. But here, away from the locker room noise, away from Coach’s clipboard and the sound of shoes squeaking on tile, it felt like they could breathe.

Azzi didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at her.

Paige stood with her back against the shelving unit, arms crossed tight over her chest, jaw clenched like she was bracing for impact. Her ponytail was damp at the edges, cheeks flushed, her breath coming fast and shallow.

Azzi stepped closer. Quiet. Measured. “You okay?”

Paige let out a laugh that wasn’t a laugh. “Not really.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. “You look like you’re carrying a whole storm in your head.”

“I can’t stop thinking,” Paige admitted. “Every time I touch the ball, it’s like...she’s there. Watching. Judging.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Your mum.”

Paige’s arms tightened across her chest. “She has this way of making me feel like I’m never enough. Like everything I do still needs to be... more.”

She looked down, voice dropping. “I hate that I care.”

Azzi took another step. “You care because you’re human. Because you want it to matter.”

Paige didn’t respond, eyes still trained on the floor.

Azzi gently reached out, fingers brushing Paige’s forearm, then her wrist, until their hands were barely linked. “Can I say something?”

Paige nodded, a little hesitant.

“You’re enough,” Azzi said, slow and certain. “Right now. Missing shots. Losing confidence. All of it. You’re still you.”

She tilted her head, catching Paige’s eyes. “And I’ve never met anyone more capable of flipping a game on its head when it counts.”

Paige’s lip tugged upward. Barely.

“But what if I can’t get out of it?” she asked. “What if I’ve already blown it?”

Azzi smirked. “Then let’s try something different.”

She stepped fully into Paige’s space now, eyes bright but steady. “Don’t play for her. Or for Coach. Or for the Scouts.”

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Play for you and if not for you, play for me.”

Paige blinked. “You?”

Azzi grinned. “Your girlfriend.”

The word landed like a spark.

Paige’s whole body seemed to react, posture loosening, face softening, heartbeat settling into a rhythm she hadn’t felt since warmups. “Say it again.”

Azzi slid her hands up Paige’s sides, settling just above her hips, fingers curling into the fabric of her jersey. “Girlfriend.”

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s waist in return, her thumbs slipping under the edge of her shirt, just enough to feel skin. “That still feels illegal to hear,” she whispered.

Azzi chuckled. “Then consider me a repeat offender.”

Paige grinned, crooked, hungry. “She sounds hot.”

“She’s incredibly hot,” Azzi deadpanned. “But she has high standards, so you might want to step it up.”

They stood there like that for a moment, close enough to share breath, close enough that Paige’s nose almost brushed Azzi’s cheek. The tension between them shifted—less panic now, more heat. Flirty. Dangerous.

“I need a good luck kiss,” Paige murmured, fingers tightening on Azzi’s waist.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, amused. “Is that your new pre-game ritual?”

“Only with you.”

With a soft sigh, Azzi leaned in and brushed her lips against Paige’s. It was a slow kiss, tender, but charged. Like everything unsaid between them was humming just under the surface.

But Paige wasn’t done.

She deepened it, mouth parting slightly, tugging Azzi closer with a low sound in the back of her throat. Her tongue just barely traced Azzi’s bottom lip before Azzi pulled back with a shaky laugh, both of them breathless now.

“You’re impossible,” Azzi said, eyes fluttering open. “This is not the time to seduce me.”

“You’re the one who called me your girlfriend in a storage closet,” Paige teased.

Azzi grinned, cheeks warm. “Win the game,” she said, smoothing Paige’s jersey. “And we’ll pick up where you left off.”

“That a promise?”

Azzi leaned in, lips brushing the shell of Paige’s ear. “Win. And find out.”

Paige groaned, tilting her head back like she was in pain. “You’re cruel.”

“And you’re gonna drop twenty in the second half, because you love showing off for me.”

Paige laughed, real this time. Her chest felt lighter, steadier.

“God, I want you,” she murmured.

Azzi kissed her one more time, quicker this time. Just enough to anchor her. “Then go show me.”

Paige pulled the door open, already recharged.

This time, when she walked back toward the team, she wasn’t running from the noise.

She was chasing the win.

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The second half tipped off and Paige was a different person.

She ran the floor like a storm. Hit her first pull-up jumper, then a three. Her handles were tighter, her cuts sharper. She moved without second-guessing, fed Azzi clean assists, then called her own number again and again.

Azzi played like clockwork beside her, syncing in step, anchoring every play.

The scoreboard flipped.

Then stretched.

By the final buzzer, it wasn’t even close.

UConn 86 – Notre Dame 68.

Paige jogged off the court drenched in sweat, chest heaving, her body humming from the inside out.

She looked toward the crowd again, toward her mother, still seated, still unreadable.

But this time... she didn’t flinch.

Because just behind the bench, Azzi caught her gaze and winked.

And Paige smiled.

The hallway outside the locker room buzzed with post-game energy — players greeting families, coaches shaking hands, teammates trading sweaty towels for oversized hoodies and warmup gear. The scent of floor polish still clung faintly to the air, cut with the tang of popcorn and Gatorade.

Paige hovered just past the end of the tunnel, her jersey tucked under her warm-up hoodie, her curls still damp at the edges. Her body was loose from the win, adrenaline still humming through her blood. But her stomach twisted as she scanned the small clump of people waiting near the railing.

There they were.

Her mother stood at the edge, her posture straight, expression unreadable. Blonde hair tucked neatly behind her ears, designer bag perched on one arm like it might shield her from the chaos. Beside her stood Ryan and Lauren, both taller than Paige remembered, both in UConn gear that looked recently bought. Lauren gave a little wave when she saw her.

Paige made herself walk.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft as she approached.

Her mother stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. The kind of hug that was more of a pat. “Congrats,” she said. “Though the first half was rough.”

Paige’s shoulders twitched, just slightly. “Yeah.”

“You can’t afford halves like that, Paige,” her mum continued, eyes sharp now. “Not with WNBA scouts watching. It doesn’t matter how strong your finish is if they’ve already written you off.”

“Mum,” Ryan cut in, his voice a low warning.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Seriously. She played amazing.”

“I’m just being honest,” her mother said coolly, like it was a service. “It’s not personal.”

But it was. It always was.

Paige swallowed the sting that crept up the back of her throat and smiled tightly at her siblings instead. “You guys made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Lauren said, pulling her into a proper hug.

Ryan followed, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You totally cooked them in the second half.”

Paige finally exhaled, just a little. “Thanks.”

A few feet away, Azzi lingered near the wall. She hadn’t meant to listen. But the voices weren’t exactly hushed, and she’d caught enough, the tone, the bite. Her heart pinched. Paige didn’t deserve that, not now. Not ever.

When Paige’s eyes found hers, Azzi lifted her chin in silent question.

You want me to come over?

Paige gave the faintest nod.

She turned back to her family as Azzi approached, hand already sliding into Paige’s without hesitation.

Her mother’s eyes clocked the gesture immediately.

“Mum,” Paige said, voice more grounded now. “This is Azzi. My... girlfriend.”

There it was. Out in the open. No take-backs. Paige’s heart thudded once, loud and final.

Her mum’s mouth pressed into a neutral line. “Nice to meet you.”

Azzi extended her hand politely, composed but cautious. “You too. Paige played incredibly.”

There was a small pause, and Paige could feel her mother weighing every syllable. But she said nothing more.

Ryan, thankfully, broke the tension. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Lauren elbowed him. “Damn, Paige. You pulled Azzi Fudd? No way.”

Azzi laughed, genuinely this time. “We’re a package deal now, apparently.”

“Well, I approve,” Lauren said easily, grinning as she stepped forward to give Azzi a quick hug. “You’re way cooler than her.”

Ryan offered his fist. “Respect.”

Azzi bumped it, then glanced sideways as Paige visibly relaxed next to her.

“Thanks for coming,” Paige said, her voice now directed to all three of them but clearly not her mother. “It meant a lot.”

Her mum gave a clipped nod. “We’ll let you get back to your team. Just… think about what I said, okay?”

Paige didn’t respond. Just turned back toward the tunnel, Azzi already moving in step beside her.

They walked in silence for a few beats, footsteps echoing on the concrete.

“You okay?” Azzi asked softly.

Paige shrugged. “I guess. It’s always like that.”

Azzi squeezed her hand, didn’t push.

As they slipped back into the warmth and noise of the locker room hallway, Paige tugged gently at Azzi’s wrist, stopping her just shy of the door.

“Thank you,” she said, voice thick with something heavier. “For being there.”

Azzi’s expression softened. “Always.”

They stood close for another breath, then stepped into the post-win chaos.

The game was over. But something bigger had just begun.

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The locker room was still buzzing, a whirl of post-game adrenaline and victory noise that hadn’t fully settled into celebration yet. Shoes squeaked against the tile, someone’s speaker kept skipping between songs, and KK was already halfway into planning the night out at Ted’s.

“Ted’s, ten o’clock. Don’t ghost me this time!” she called over the ruckus, pointing at Aaliyah like it was a dare.

Azzi laughed lightly, pulling her hoodie over her head. She reached into her locker for her bag, slinging it over one shoulder just as Paige glanced over from the other side of the room, her smile soft but tired. There was something in her expression, a flicker of thought still clinging to her like static, even as the rest of the team rode the high.

She caught Azzi’s eye and tilted her head toward the hallway.

Azzi nodded.

They slipped out without needing to say anything, the door swinging shut behind them. The corridor was quieter, cooler, a reprieve from the sweaty rush of bodies and too-loud music. Paige’s sneakers scuffed against the floor as they walked in step toward the back exit, neither of them speaking yet, like the silence was still stretching itself out.

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Outside, the air had the sharp edge of late evening, the sky already dark, the parking lot scattered with campus lights. Azzi’s car sat in its usual spot, and when they reached it, she opened the back door to toss in her bag. A crumpled drawing caught Paige’s eye, a sparkly unicorn with a purple mane and gold stars everywhere, half-folded in the cupholder.

Paige leaned in, brushing her fingers over the page with a small smile. “She really committed to the glitter, huh?”

Azzi laughed under her breath. “It’s been banned from three rooms in the house already.”

Paige carefully straightened the paper, tucking it a little neater into the holder before gently closing the door.

Azzi watched her, leaning casually against the car. “You’re kind of hot when you do that, you know.”

Paige turned, brow raised, amused. “What? Fix glitter bomb casualties?”

Azzi shrugged, arms crossed loosely. “Domestic Paige. Calm. Confident. Good with kids. Bit of a forearm flex. It’s working.”

Paige stood slowly, letting the door swing shut behind her. “So much for subtle.”

Azzi took a step closer, grinning now. “Please. You introduced me to your mum with a hand-hold and the words ‘my girlfriend.’ Pretty sure we skipped subtle.”

Paige groaned, pressing her hand to her face. “Don’t remind me.”

“No, I liked it,” Azzi said, her tone suddenly softer. “You didn’t hesitate.”

Paige dropped her hand and met her gaze. “You’ve let me into your world, Az. I didn’t want you thinking I’d hide you from mine.”

Azzi’s throat tightened, but she didn’t look away. “Even though… your mum…”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured. “Even though.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Paige leaned in just slightly, enough that her words dropped to a murmur between them.

“So. About halftime.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“You said if I won the game, we could finish what I started.”

Azzi smirked, biting her lip like she was trying not to smile. “I did say that.”

Paige stepped even closer, hands ghosting over Azzi’s waist like she was trying not to push her luck. “I’d argue I over-delivered. Pretty sure I didn’t miss a single shot that second half.”

“You were on fire,” Azzi said, letting her fingers trail up Paige’s arm, slow and light. “I might’ve gotten a little hot watching you.”

Paige’s grin turned devilish. “A little?”

Azzi leaned in until their noses brushed. “You were showing off.”

“I was motivated,” Paige whispered. “You kissed me. Told me I had to earn the rest.”

“I didn’t think you’d try to win the whole damn game.”

Paige let out a breath of a laugh. “Well... did it work?”

Azzi didn’t answer. She just kissed her, slow, deep, tasting of adrenaline and something sweeter beneath it. Her hands found Paige’s waist, pulling her in. Paige let her fingers tangle gently in Azzi’s hoodie, returning the kiss with just enough heat to make them both forget the parking lot for a second.

When they finally pulled back, their foreheads stayed pressed together.

Paige murmured, “Are you still calling for Ruby’s bedtime routine? I don’t wanna miss it.”

Azzi gave a breathless laugh. “You’re going out.”

“I can still talk to my favorite unicorn.”

“Sparklehorn’s flattered.”

“And her mum?”

Azzi tilted her head, eyes flickering with fondness. “Equally flattered.”

Paige brushed her nose along Azzi’s. “Good.”

Azzi kissed her cheek, then pulled away gently, already reaching for her keys. “Don’t get too drunk.”

“No promises,” Paige called as she stepped backward, her smile lazy and fond. “But if I do, you better answer my drunk FaceTime.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You planning something?”

“You’ll see.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing. “Bye, baby.”

“Still not over how good that sounds.”

Paige turned, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair still damp, her whole body buzzing with the high of the game and the kiss and the girl she couldn’t stop wanting more of.

As she disappeared into the gym entrance, Azzi stood for a moment by her car, hand on the handle, grinning like she couldn’t help it.

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

The night was humid and heavy with the scent of beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. The inside of Ted’s throbbed like a living, breathing thing, basslines rolling through the floorboards, bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the air hot and crackling with post-win chaos. Lights pulsed like a heartbeat above the crowd.

Paige stumbled a little as she edged out from the booth, mumbling something about “needing air” to Nika, who barely noticed over the sound of Aaliyah screeching at someone to take another shot.

Her oversized white tee clung slightly to the sweat along her spine. Black cargo pants slouched low on her hips, her silver cross swinging as she pushed her way past the bar crowd. A bead of condensation slipped from her half-drunk glass and rolled down her wrist. She didn’t finish it. Didn’t want to. Her mouth tasted too bitter, her head already foggy.

The alley behind Ted’s was blessedly quiet.

Paige shoved the door open with her shoulder, blinking into the low light as the music dimmed behind her like someone had turned down the world. The air outside was cool against her flushed skin. She leaned back against the wall, the bricks rough against her spine, exhaling slowly like she’d been holding her breath inside for hours.

Her phone buzzed in her hand before she could even check it.

Incoming FaceTime: Azzi

Her thumb barely hesitated. She answered immediately, pressing the phone up, breath hitching just a little.

Azzi’s face filled the screen, soft-lit from Ruby’s bedroom, cheeks pink and eyes already a little sleepy. Her curls were pulled back into a loose bun, and the neckline of her worn UConn tee dipped low as she shifted into frame, propped up on one elbow.

“Hey Baby,” she said, voice honeyed and low. “You drunk?”

Paige grinned, too wide and too honest. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glassy, words just a little too slow. “Only enough to make you look even prettier than usual. That’s like… dangerous levels.”

Azzi laughed, biting her lip. “You look good too.”

Paige wobbled a bit on her feet, pressed her free hand to the wall to steady herself. “You should see me try to walk in a straight line. It’s art.”

Before Azzi could respond, a high-pitched squeal cut through the audio, and a tiny blur of motion barreled onto the screen.

“MAMA! I wanna say it!”

Azzi turned, already smiling. “Say hi, baby.”

And then Ruby was there, cheeks pink from sleep, curls wild around her face, holding Sparklehorn like a treasured relic. She squinted into the camera, face lighting up.

“PAIGEY!”

Paige’s grin softened instantly, heart lurching behind her ribs.

“Hi, Roo. Did Sparklehorn have a good day?”

Ruby nodded with intense seriousness, lifting the unicorn like a trophy. “Sparklehorn say hiiiii.”

“Hi, Sparklehorn,” Paige said, adjusting her grip on the phone. Her hand was a little shaky. “You were very brave today.”

“Okay Paigey, you say goodnight to Sparklehorn first,” Ruby instructed, face inches from the camera, eyes narrowed like this was the law.

Paige giggled like actually giggled, as she obeyed. “Goodnight, Sparklehorn. Sleep tight.”

Ruby looked satisfied. “Now me.”

“Goodnight, Roo,” Paige said, voice dipping gentle and warm, every drunken haze burned off for this one tiny moment. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”

Ruby blinked. “I see you morrow?”

Paige’s throat caught. Just a little. She blinked quickly, like that would stop the warmth pooling behind her eyes. “I hope so.”

Azzi gave a knowing little smile, then shifted the phone to the bedside table and stood. Paige watched, phone now tilted at an angle as Azzi bent over Ruby’s bed, tucking her in, brushing curls off her daughter’s forehead with a touch so tender it made Paige ache. Her chest clenched. Her eyes were way too wet for how drunk she was.

Azzi whispered something Paige couldn’t hear. Ruby clutched Sparklehorn closer. Then Azzi picked up the phone again and padded quietly into her room, shutting the door behind her.

She curled up in bed, blanket pulled to her chest, the light dim and soft behind her.

Still smiling, she asked, “Still there?”

Paige nodded, sliding down the brick wall until she was sitting on the concrete, knees drawn up, phone held tight in both hands. “Still here,” she murmured. Her voice had gone raspy.

They stared at each other through the screen.

“Baby I miss you,” Paige said suddenly. Raw. Blunt. True.

Azzi didn’t blink. “I miss you more.”

Paige's eyes flicked down, then back up. The alcohol made it impossible to pretend. “I wanna fall asleep next to you.”

Azzi blinked slowly. “Yeah?”

“I just…” Paige sighed, ran a hand through her hair and stared up at the starless sky. “Right now, the only thing I want is to touch you.”

There was a pause. Then a sly smile curled Azzi’s lips.

“Damn. Drunk makes you horny.”

Paige groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...well I did...but not in like a gross way.”

Azzi just laughed. Soft, real.

“I just miss being near you,” Paige admitted, looking up again. “The way you smell. The way you look at me like you actually see me.”

Azzi’s teasing faded at that.

“I know we should be taking it slow,” Paige went on, voice wobbling now, “and I want to... I want to get this right. But tonight… I don’t wanna be alone.”

And then she sniffed.

Once. Twice.

And tears spilled over before she could stop them.

“God, I’m such a fucking mess,” Paige mumbled, wiping her face, laughing wetly

Azzi stared through the screen, something shifting behind her eyes, that look Paige had started to recognise. Protective. Certain. Softened only by affection.

Then came the words: “Fuck it. Come stay with me tonight.”

Paige blinked, thrown for a second.

“You sure?” she asked, the words almost slurring, low and hopeful.

Azzi nodded once. “Yeah. I want you here.”

Something unraveled in Paige’s chest. She exhaled slowly, like she’d been waiting to be told she was wanted all night.

“I miss your face,” she said. “I miss your voice. I miss” She caught herself. “Okay, I miss everything. Even the way you call me out for being dramatic.”

Azzi smirked. “You are dramatic.”

“And yet here you are,” Paige said, flashing a crooked smile, “inviting all this drama into your peaceful home.”

Azzi tilted her head on the pillow. “You’re worth the chaos.”

Paige just about melted. She leaned her head back against the brick wall, eyes fluttering closed. “You say things like that and then expect me to behave.”

Azzi’s laughter was low and fond. “You’ve never behaved a day in your life.”

Paige grinned. “True. But I’m on my best behavior around your kid. You should reward me.”

“Oh?” Azzi raised an eyebrow, playing along. “What kind of reward are we talking?”

Paige smirked. “Dunno. Maybe a kiss. Or three. Or a whole night tangled up in your sheets—”

Azzi cut her off with a laugh, flushing even as she tried to play it cool. “Babe.”

“What?” Paige blinked innocently. “I’m just brainstorming.”

“You’re horny brainstorming.”

“I prefer the term romantic visualising.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, cheeks pink. “You’re lucky I’m into you.”

“God,” Paige said, hand dragging through her hair again. “You have no idea how much I want to be there already.”

“Your Uber better not crash,” Azzi warned. “You’re not allowed to die before you cuddle me.”

“Cuddle,” Paige repeated. “Right. That’s what we’re calling it.”

Azzi laughed again. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige let the words wash over her like sunlight. “You like me unbelievable.”

Azzi didn’t deny it. Her expression turned more serious, warm, not heavy. “You looked so sad earlier. I hated seeing that.”

Paige’s grin faltered, just for a second. “It’s just… sometimes I get too in my head. Especially around my mum. I get small.”

Azzi softened. “You never have to be small with me.”

Paige’s chest tightened again, not in the anxious way, but something steadier. Like safety, curling around her ribs.

“Az,” she murmured, voice going thick again. “You make me feel like I could be... more.”

Azzi smiled quietly. “That’s because you already are.”

There was a pause. A soft, breathless hush that neither of them felt the need to fill.

Then Paige looked back at her screen and grinned again, cheeky. “I’m bringing cookies.”

Azzi blinked. “For me or Ruby?”

“Technically Ruby. But I figured you’d steal at least one.”

Azzi smirked. “You know me well.”

“I’m getting there,” Paige said, and her voice went low again, almost reverent. “And I want to know everything.”

Azzi swallowed. “You will.”

They stayed like that for a few more seconds, just looking. Letting the moment stretch.

“I’m gonna hang up,” Paige whispered finally. “So I don’t ugly cry in front of you again.”

Azzi grinned. “Too late.”

“Shut up,” Paige said, smiling as she ended the call.

She stood still for a moment, phone against her chest, before stepping out into the street to meet her ride. And her girl

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

"Wait. Stop here.”

The Uber driver barely glanced at Paige in the rearview mirror before slowing down in front of the 24-hour convenience store. Paige, already unbuckling her seatbelt with too much enthusiasm, leaned forward like the car was a rocket ship and she was the pilot.

“I gotta get cookies. And ice cream. And something pink.”

The driver blinked. “You’ve got three minutes.”

Paige held up two fingers with dramatic flair. “Deal.”

She half-jogged inside, tipsy steps slightly uneven, stumbling through the aisles with surprising focus. She grabbed a box of mini chocolate chip cookies, paused in front of the freezer to pick out a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream, then made a beeline for the sad little bouquet rack near the door.

“Too red,” she mumbled. “Too fake. Too yellow. Ew.”

Her hand hovered over a bundle of soft purple spray roses, pale, sweet, just a little messy.

“Perfect.”

She checked out in a blur of crinkled notes and thank-yous, then burst back into the car like she’d just finished a heist.

“Mission accomplished,” she grinned, breathless. “Ruby’s gonna love me.”

The driver just shook his head and pulled back onto the road.

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

By the time the car rolled up outside Azzi’s house, Paige’s buzz had shifted, softer now, threaded with nerves and the lingering ache of missing her. She stared up at the porch light for a second too long before pulling out her phone.

Paige: here

Paige: I come bearing snacks and flowers

Paige: don’t let me fall into your garden bush pls

The door creaked open within seconds.

Azzi stood there barefoot in grey sweatpants and a UConn hoodie, eyes sleepy but smile blooming the second she saw her. Her arms crossed under her chest, head tilted.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, voice low and fond.

Paige wobbled toward her, shoving the bouquet out first like an offering. “These are for you. Cookies for Roo. Ice cream is technically for both, but I feel like you’ll end up eating most of it.”

Azzi took the flowers with a soft grin, fingers brushing Paige’s. “Thanks, drunky.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Paige said, immediately tripping on the second step.

Azzi caught her by the elbow with a laugh. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Once inside, Azzi quietly shut the door behind them. The house was dim, the only light coming from the kitchen nightlight down the hall. Paige slipped off her Jordans with a grunt, bending down and completely losing her balance in the process.

A loud thud echoed through the foyer.

“Shhhh—” Azzi hissed, reaching down to help her, but it was too late.

From down the hallway, a door creaked open. Footsteps padded across the wood floor.

Tim appeared first, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Katie followed right behind in a long robe and slippers, blinking at the scene in front of them: Paige, flushed and red-faced, one shoe off, cookie box in one hand, the other bracing herself against the wall like it might start spinning.

“Oh,” Paige said, straightening fast and standing like she’d just been caught by a teacher. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Katie’s eyes flicked from the flowers to the cookies to Azzi’s expression, then back to Paige. “Everything okay?”

Azzi nodded once, firm but kind. “She was upset. I told her to come.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “She seems... spirited.”

“She brought ice cream,” Azzi added dryly.

“Then she’s welcome,” Tim said, already turning back toward the hall. “Goodnight, girls.”

Katie lingered for a beat longer. “Get some water in her.”

“Yes, Mum,” Azzi muttered.

Paige gave them a little wave as they disappeared. “Sorry. Again. I promise I’m not normally like this.”

“You kinda are,” Azzi said, closing the front door and locking it. “Just with less alcohol.”

As soon as the hallway emptied, Paige perked back up.

“Okay,” she said, voice low and mischievous. “Now that the parentals are gone”

She stepped forward and hooked her arms around Azzi’s waist, clearly intending to lift her.

“Nope,” Azzi said immediately, bracing herself. “Don’t you dare”

“Come on,” Paige whined. “Let me carry you to bed like the strong, protective girlfriend I am.”

“You can barely stand.”

“Your lack of trust is honestly offensive.”

Azzi laughed and grabbed Paige’s hand instead. “Come on, drunky.”

They padded down the hall to Azzi’s room, quiet except for the creak of the floorboards and the occasional squeak of Paige’s socks on the hardwood. Azzi opened her door gently, Ruby’s unicorn night light still casting soft pink stars across the wall from her room next door.

Once inside, Paige didn’t waste time. She pulled Azzi in close the second the door clicked shut behind them, wrapping her arms around her from behind and pressing slow kisses along her neck, her jaw, her shoulder.

Azzi melted against her for a moment, hands resting over Paige’s, before gently pushing her back.

“Shhh,” she whispered. “You’re being loud.”

“I’m being loving.”

“You’re being handsy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Azzi turned around, one eyebrow raised. “You’re literally half falling over.”

“Then help me,” Paige said, all innocent eyes and terrible balance.

Azzi shook her head but couldn’t hide the smile. She crossed to her dresser, pulled out an oversized UConn shirt and a pair of soft sweatpants, and held them out. “Bathroom. Go change.”

Paige stared at the clothes, then at her. “I need help.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Paige.”

“I’m drunk. And also stupid. And I don’t know how to do pants.”

Azzi huffed but walked over anyway. “Fine.”

She helped Paige out of her shirt first, biting her lip when Paige deliberately stretched like she was on a magazine cover.

“Stop that,” Azzi muttered.

“Stop what?” Paige asked innocently. “Existing?”

“You’re the worst.”

Next came the pants. Azzi helping her step out while Paige absolutely did not help, choosing instead to run her hands up Azzi’s thighs in the process.

“Seriously,” Azzi said, cheeks pink. “Do you want me to dress you or make out with you?”

“Both.”

Azzi stood, shaking her head as she yanked the sweatpants up over Paige’s hips. “What happened to, ‘I didn’t mean...Well, I did....but not in like a gross way?”

Paige grinned. “Okay... maybe I lied.”

Azzi tried not to laugh. Failed. “Come on, drunky.”

She grabbed Paige’s hand and pulled her toward the bed. Paige flopped onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh, and Azzi climbed in after her. The moment her head hit the pillow, Paige turned, sliding an arm around Azzi’s waist and burying her face in her neck.

Azzi smiled, already relaxing into the warmth of it.

“You smell like the bar,” she mumbled.

“You smell like heaven,” Paige replied.

Azzi chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Within seconds, Paige had melted into her, leg hooked over Azzi’s, breath slowing.

Azzi closed her eyes and nestled in closer.

This, this right here, was worth every step it took to get here.

Even the drunk ones.

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

The house was quiet in the way only 3 a.m. could offer, not silent, exactly, but still. The kind of stillness that pressed soft against the walls, stretched through doorways, curled into corners. A clock ticked faintly in the kitchen down the hall. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere outside, a branch scraped lazily against the gutter.

Inside Azzi’s room, everything was warm.

The glow from the unicorn nightlight down the hall barely reached under the door, but it was enough to cast soft shadows along the edge of the bed. The covers had twisted slightly in sleep, kicked off Paige’s legs and pooled around their waists, tangled where their bodies had naturally folded toward each other.

Paige stirred first, not because she meant to, but because her body somehow always knew when it was near something it wanted to hold. Her lashes fluttered, breath slow, still thick with sleep. Her head was turned to the right, nose nearly brushing the pillow. Azzi was pressed in so close it took Paige a moment to realize where her arm ended and Azzi’s began.

Azzi had curled into her at some point, unconsciously or not, one leg thrown over Paige’s thigh, her hand balled under her own cheek, her mouth parted slightly in sleep. Her breath came in steady waves, chest rising and falling against Paige’s side. The hem of her hoodie had ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of smooth skin at her waist. Paige could feel the warmth of her everywhere, tucked into the crook of her body like they’d been doing this for years.

Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

She just stared.

Her heart twisted, then swelled, a slow ache spreading through her ribs like warmth from a fire too close. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything like this, Azzi, utterly at peace, body soft and slack with sleep, face angled toward her like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.

She couldn’t help herself.

Gently, Paige reached up and brushed a loose curl from Azzi’s forehead, tucking it behind her ear with the softest touch. Her fingertips lingered there just for a second tracing the shell of Azzi’s ear, then moving back to brush a knuckle down her jaw.

Azzi stirred.

A small frown flickered across her brow before her eyes cracked open, slow and bleary. She blinked once, then again, pupils adjusting in the low light. Paige held her breath as Azzi focused in on her.

“Babe?” Azzi whispered, voice raspy with sleep, like it caught somewhere in her throat.

Paige smiled, barely more than a breath. “Hey.”

Azzi shifted, lifting her head slightly. Her hand slid across Paige’s stomach, fingertips brushing the soft cotton of the shirt she’d helped her into earlier. Her brows furrowed in that way they always did when she was waking like she was trying to figure out what dream she’d just left behind.

Paige didn’t wait for her to fully wake. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured.

Azzi’s mouth parted like she wanted to respond, but Paige was already leaning in, brushing her lips over Azzi’s with a kiss that was gentle at first, feather-light, barely pressure. Azzi hummed softly, responding without words, and then shifted closer. The second kiss was slower, deeper. A little hungrier.

Paige’s hand found the back of Azzi’s neck, fingers threading into her curls. Azzi climbed up without thinking, her body moving instinctively, half-straddling Paige’s waist now, one knee pressed into the mattress beside her hip. Their mouths moved together like gravity was in charge, not thought. Azzi’s hoodie sleeves fell past her hands as she braced herself on either side of Paige’s shoulders, her breath now quicker, lips parted.

Paige groaned softly when Azzi rolled her hips just slightly, like testing a theory. Her hands slid down to Azzi’s waist, then lower, cupping the curve of her ass as she pulled her in tighter. Azzi gasped, fingers digging into the sheets beside Paige’s head.

“We really” Azzi breathed between kisses, “shouldn’t be doing this.”

Paige’s laugh was low and broken. “We really shouldn’t. Not with Ruby... and your parents... right there.”

But neither of them stopped.

Azzi kissed her again, more desperately this time, tongue sliding against hers with heat and need and something deeper Paige didn’t have a name for yet. Paige’s hand slid beneath the hem of Azzi’s hoodie, fingers skimming hot skin, gripping her tighter. Her other hand slid up Azzi’s back, under the fabric, and settled between her shoulder blades.

Azzi ground down slightly, her breath catching, her lips dragging down Paige’s neck now, open-mouthed and slow. Paige arched up into her, hands greedy now, mouth whispering something unintelligible against Azzi’s shoulder.

“I wanna see you,” Paige whispered, voice wrecked with want. She tugged at the edge of the hoodie, fingertips sliding beneath it to start lifting it.

But then

Tap tap tap.

Tiny feet. Light. Familiar.

Azzi froze. Every muscle in her body locked into place.

Paige’s eyes widened as Azzi jerked upright and rolled off her like someone had hit pause on reality. Paige sat up halfway, breath still caught somewhere in her throat, eyes wide and hazy.

“What—?” she started, but Azzi held a finger to her lips.

They listened.

The soft patter again. Then the door creaked.

And there, standing in the soft spill of hallway light, was a tiny figure in purple pajamas, one arm dragging Sparklehorn behind her, hair mussed and face still puffy with sleep.

Ruby.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand, then blinked up at the bed. Her gaze landed on Paige now clearly visible, sitting up, flushed and tousled, half-tucked beneath the covers. Her whole face lit up like a switch had been flipped.

But then it fell.

“You didn’t tell me ‘bout sleepover,” she mumbled, eyes going shiny, lip trembling just slightly. “I wanted come too…”

Azzi, still breathless, still pink, sat up and reached her arms out. “Baby, we didn’t mean to leave you out. Come here.”

Ruby stood still for another beat, clearly torn between feeling left out and the joy of seeing Paige.

Then, finally, she toddled forward and climbed up onto the bed without hesitation, wedging herself between them like she’d done it a hundred times.

Azzi shifted to make room, pulling the blanket up. Ruby curled against Paige instinctively, head on her chest, Sparklehorn tucked under one arm.

Paige swallowed thickly, heart still racing for reasons completely different now. She glanced over at Azzi, who met her gaze with a flush and a small, helpless smile.

Paige wrapped one arm around Ruby, letting the moment settle. Azzi leaned in close, brushing a hand over her daughter’s back.

And just like that, the heat from before faded into something else. Not lesser. Just... transformed.

Softer.

Wiser.

Real.

And Paige, still aching, still stunned, let herself breathe through it.

Because in the end, maybe this was the kind of intimacy that mattered more.

Maybe this was the kind of night she wanted to remember.

#pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #wlw

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sparrows4bats · 2 days ago

Text

Another Damian as Selinas Sidekick AU

I love the idea that Damian becomes a doctor so much, but I am also aware that he is a little adrenaline junkie and would be bored and miss vigilantism.

So, instead of going to his father and asking for the occasional patrol or spar. Damian decides to go to Selina with his boredom.

Selina and he have bonded over the years. Their shared love of cats, their rough past, and their very different yet complicated relationship to the batman. So Damian meets her for coffee every couple of weeks to vent.

It's therapeutic, and Damian quite likes having someone who listens to his side of things without rushing to defend everyone else. Selina has been around a long time and is well aware of the flaws of his father and siblings. She understands his frustration and the fact that it doesn't change how much he loves his family.

Selina has a soft spot for the boy who was so hurt and angry when she first met him but decided his own path to helping people. So when Damian tells her how he misses the adrenaline, the adventure, but can't hurt people anymore. (He took an oath, and he doesn't want to anymore, never again if he can help it.) Selina has a wonderful idea.

If he won't be a vigilante anymore, why not a thief?

Damian protests when she suggests it. At first.

Then Selina mentions how an awful lot of the money she takes ends up in the hands of the community and that she is not active nearly as much as Batman. A good heist takes quite a bit of planning after all.

The thing that really sold him is when Selina said she needed back up anyway to steal this artifact from a private collector and return it to its country of origin.

Doctor Damian Wayne sits across from her, a cat in his lap, and smiles as she outlines the plan and agrees easier than she thought he would.

Now Damian is highly trained, turned into a weapon from birth, but Selina insists on showing him some of her own moves. Damian excels in flexibility and the more arobatic elements. He picks pockets and exploits alarm systems like he's done it for years. He grins as he tells her exactly how he used to get around his father. No one wise ever lets anyone know all of their skills, even allies.

Selina delights in teaching him social exploitation, how to use his looks and charm to convince marks to just let him in. She laughs at the disgisted face he makes as she describes how to flirt and distract. Selina is actually a little impressed with how well he does at it after a bit of practice on regular people.

They melt at his accent and pretty green eyes, tripping over themselves to give Damian anything he wants if only to have his attention a moment longer.

She giggles at the thought of Bruce's and the other bats' reaction to their baby becoming the object of admirers. She reminds herself to get him to use his new skills at the next Wayne Gala so she can watch the chaos.

Finally, Selina declares him ready and hands him his new costume. Which happens to be a skintight black catsuit made from what he guesses is reinforced material, complete with a mask to cover his mouth and a hood with cat ears sewn on top.

"No."

"But you'll look so cute kitten!"

"I'll look like an idiot!"

"You need a suit, I altered one of mine, so unless you're going to rob this guy wearing the Robin outfit, it'll have to do."

"Fine!"

"Do you have a name? Or am I calling you kitten all night?"

Damian sighs and thinks, "You can call me Stray."

The job goes extremely well. Catwoman and Stray get in, grab the artifacts and a few extras that catch their eye, and get out without anyone noticing. It's the most fun Damian has had in ages, flitting across rooftops once again.

After that, Stray makes regular appearances, never when it'll interfere with his work. He and Catwoman robb the corrupt and return culturally significant objects and wealth to where they belong. Afterwards, he goes to work and saves lives.

Damian and Selina don't tell the others about their escapades. Damian doesn't want the hassle of explaining his choices to them, and ever since he hung up the cape, his father and brothers have been overprotective to the extreme. Silena is waiting for the world's greatest detective to figure out his civilian son is now her sidekick.

Batman notices Strays existence months after Damian starts his new hobby. He meets his father in the house of a mob boss Catwoman had been targeting for years.

"Catwoman, whose your friend?" Batman grunts

"Oh, Batsy, meet my kitten, Stray."

Damian pitches his voice a little lower and carefully imitates a Gotham accent.

"Great to finally meet you Batman, my mentor has told me so much about you." Damian offers a clawed hand. His father doesn't take it.

"Get out of here. This guy is involved in a human trafficking ring I'm tracking down."

"All the more reason to liberate his ill gotten gains, don't you think?" Damian asks with a smirk.

Batman glares at him but let's them leave with a few nice paintings and doesn't bother giving chase. Damian ignores Selina winking at the Bat and whispering in his ear for his own sanity.

It goes on like this for weeks. When he sees his father outside the mask, the man is doting and worried if he's eating enough. When he he meets Batman, the man is cold and standoffish.

The other bats enjoy his humour but are thoroughly confused at his ability to evade them.

Bruce is losing it because the last time a masked figure showed in Gotham with vaguely familiar moves, it was Jason on a revenge mission. At least, Stray isn't beheading people, but Bruce needs to know who he is, like yesterday.

Silena says nothing but enjoys their frustration. Her kitten is having fun for the first time in years, and not even the bats are going to ruin that.

It works well, Damian helps Silena while he keeps his new life as a doctor without his family knowing his secret. He enjoys the adrenaline and sleeps better with some sort of outlet.

Then, all of the Batfamily are kidnapped.

Damian doesn't know how it happened or why he is the only one left to deal with it, but Silena called, and now he has to go rescue his idiots. Silena is with the sirens out of town, so Stray goes in solo. (he doesn't have time to find a robin suit.)

He finds his family tied up and mildly drugged in a large basement.

"Why are you here?!" Nightwing asks as he is untied.

"Because apparently you all are incapable of keeping yourselves out of trouble without my help!"

"We've never needed your help before?" Red Robin interjects, looking at him like a puzzle.

"Yes, take that tone! Agent A is waiting at the cave for you all, and God help me if any of you patrol again without me clearing you!"

"Wait-" Batman starts. "Damian!"

Every other bat looks at him in shock.

"No names in the suit, Father!"

All of the vigilantes start to talk over each other as Damian sighs. He has a shift in 5 hours and probably won't be able to sleep before it now.

Just as Damian has untied the last of his siblings, the door to the basement busts open to reveal a very serious looking Jon Kent. Tim had apparently activated the distress beacon.

Stray holds his face in his hand. "Bit late there, Superman." As he turns to a hovering Jon Kent.

"Damian?!" The Super gapes at him.

"No names in the suit, Hayseed!" Damian crosses his arms, his glare visible even if his scowl is hidden. Jon immediately turns bright red. Damians family look on in dread.

"I didn't know you even had a suit anymore!"

"It wasn't important!"

"Looks pretty important to me! What? Trade in the bird theme for... Are those cat ears??"

Damian glares harder. "They weren't my choice."

"Yeah, I got that. This is very different from your old Robin get-up." Jon looks him up and down. "Suits you, though."

Damian hopes his heartbeat doesn't give away how that comment affects him, but going by the smirk on Jons face, he already knows.

"NO!" Damians brothers shout from beside him.

"Stray, you are coming back to the cave." Batman orders

"But Father-"

"Now."

Damian really just wants to sleep, but his father isn't giving him a choice in the matter. He looks towards Jon and has a wonderful idea.

"Superman, I could use an evac." Jon takes a moment, smiles, and grabs the cat themed thief and flies them both away. They ignore the other heroes yelling behind them.

After a few minutes of flying, Jon sets him down in the middle of a field.

"So you're Stray now?"

"I needed an outlet that didn't hurt people, Silena suggested it." Damian says while taking down his mask and hood. "Thank you for the escape."

Jon chuckles. "Anytime." He steps closer. "If you want to repay the favour, you could take me to dinner?" He flirts.

Damian raises a brow. "Really?"

"I'll even pay."

"How is that repayment?"

"Was thinking more of a date, actually?" Jon looks at his lips as he says this.

"The Cat Costume really does it for you, huh?" Damian teases.

"No, you do it for me. I've been trying to ask you out for ages, but seeing you in skintight leather is definitely a hell of a motivation."

Damian hums. "Tommorrow then, you can pick me up after my shift. If you let me sleep before I have to work in the morning"

"Deal."

His family eventually interrogate him about being Stray, but not before they find Jonathan Kent waiting for him with flowers and a kiss.

Needless to say, Selina is highly entertained when she returns.

#damian wayne #jondami #damijon #batfamily #batfam #supersons #jon kent #bruce wayne #selina kyle #stray au #catlad au #doctor damian wayne #this is for that one anon

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takusan-no-ai · 2 days ago

Text

He’s My Little Mouse

PAIRING: Burnice x Male Reader (Romantic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: Burnice and her boyfriend couldn’t be any more opposite to each other.

Belle and Wise were curious when they learned Burnice had a boyfriend. She’s as eccentric as it comes, so they had no clear idea of what he would be like. And it was so random how they learned of this fact; Burnice just blurted it out once, “I have a boyfriend by the way,” and didn’t elaborate further. Phaethon was left more confused rather than surprised.

Naturally they expected you to be more like her: party animal, pyromaniac, lucky goose, flying all over the place. That’s the only kind of guy Belle and Wise could picture being able to handle Burnice. Especially since even the Sons of Calydon have a hard time keeping up with her. And the horror stories Pulchra tells them as she seeks shelter at Random Play leave little room for the imagination.

Nothing prepared them for this however. You were…not at all like Burnice. For starters she had to drag you inside of Random Play, and then you kept hiding behind her, as if the siblings couldn’t see you; case in point you were incredibly shy. And much more withdrawn, preferring to make short and quick responses when they tried to conversed with you.

The main reason Burnice brought you over was because Phaethon needed her help with a commission. So, she saw the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: she made you fight alongside her in hopes of encouraging you to make some new friends. And you could hold your own very much. But your fighting style was so much different from hers; hiding around corners and sneaking fast kills, darting around, squeaking like a mouse at every loud noise. Phaethon took one look at you and decided…

“He’s like a male version of Corin.” Wise said.

Belle barely stifled her giggles, not wanting to be rude. “Wise! What if he hears you?” She whispered to him.

He chuckled, “But he’s like a tiny mouse. I’m surprised he can keep up with someone like Burnice.” Amongst the siblings talking through Eous was multiple ethereals. All of them charged forward only to be discombobulated by the ashes. A circular flame entrapping them.

And off to the side stood (Y/N), anxiety plain to see on his face. As the smoke cleared all the ethereals were stuck in place. Wise and Belle watched in amazement. Thats when they noticed (Y/N)’s stance.

His arms crossed, he pulled his hands done to the ground, and what was once invisible revealed to be thin strings entangling the ethereals; their bodies sliced in two as they dissolved in the hollow.

Snapping out of their trance, Wise controlled Eous towards a box. It had now been revealed thanks to the lack of enemies. “Mission complete! Good work everyone.” He congratulated them.

But Wise’s words fell on deaf ears. Sparks literally flew around the young couple. Burnice hugged him tightly. He slowly hugged her back, hiding his face in her neck. Every time she kissed his forehead (Y/N) would squeak and shiver.

“Uhh…do we need to give you too some room?” Belle asked. Loudly.

Suddenly realizing they’re not alone, (Y/N) jumped out of his girlfriend’s embrace and tried to fan away his blush. “Y-yeah. Let’s focus on getting back h-home.” He stuttered.

Burnice hummed in amusement. And as she skipped forward she held his hand, not wanting to let go. “You can act shy all you want around these guys (Y/N). But we both know how smitten you get in private—”

“BURNICE!”

- Fin

#male reader #zenless zone zero x reader #imagine #burnice white x reader #burnice white

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holyblonded · 1 day ago

Note

Sorry if you already answer this, but how was Alexia, Estrella and Azulita (and Soleil if She was dating Estrella at time) reaction when Olga tell them she was pregnant? And how would Olga tell them?

— no you’re good babes

— it’s early spring, and they’re in the hills just outside barcelona,!nothing fancy, just a weekend picnic in that lazy sunshine kind of way. blankets sprawled out, snacks in tupperware, eli telling stories, alba roasting alexia for mispronouncing something. estrella is barefoot, trying to balance a football on the back of her neck, and azulita is pretending not to care while still staring at the ball’s rotation like it insulted her.

— olga has been weird all day. affectionate, but distracted. her hand keeps drifting to her stomach like it’s muscle memory, like her body already knows what she’s growing.

— alexia’s in on it. she keeps watching the girls. letting olga lead.

— they wait until everyone is full of tortilla and fruit and sun. and then olga says, “can i say something?”

— estrella glances up from trying to stack pringles in a tower. azulita squints suspiciously—she doesn’t like that tone, it means adult news.

— “i wanted to tell you two together,” olga says, her eyes soft and shining. she reaches for alexia’s hand, squeezes it. “i’m pregnant.”

— silence. actual full-body glitch.

— estrella drops the pringle tower and stares. “wait. pregnant how.”

— “what do you mean how?” alexia chokes on a laugh.

— azulita blinks. then blinks again. “like. you’re gonna have a baby?”

— “yes,” olga nods. “you’re going to have a little sibling.”

— the silence stretches until estrella yells, “OH MY GOD,” and launches herself directly into olga’s lap, knocking over a whole tray of fruit and not even remotely caring. “A BABY?? are you kidding me? are you joking? like a whole real baby?!”

— azulita stands completely still. frozen. eyes wide, hands limp at her sides. she looks at alexia, then back at olga, like if she blinks she’ll miss it.

— “you’re serious,” she says, voice small.

— olga nods again, arms full of clinging estrella. “completely serious.”

— azulita doesn’t move for another beat, and then she walks over slowly, drops into alexia’s arms like she can’t hold herself up anymore, and mutters, “okay. okay. i just wasn’t ready to love someone else yet.”

— alexia holds her tighter. “you don’t have to be ready,” she murmurs into azulita’s hair. “she’ll love you first.”

— estrella is still peppering olga with questions at maximum volume. “when are you due? can we name her? is she gonna be a baller? do i get to pick her kit number? is she a she?” and olga just keeps laughing, hand never leaving her stomach.

— azulita finally peels herself off alexia and crawls across the blanket to olga. she doesn’t say anything at first, just puts a hand on olga’s belly and leans her forehead against estrella’s shoulder. quiet. overwhelmed. happy in the way that feels heavy and electric.

— “she’s gonna be so lucky,” estrella says, fiercely, fiercely, like she’s already decided to fight the world for her.

— “we’ll take care of her,” azulita whispers.

— olga kisses both their heads. “i know.”

— later that night, they make a secret handshake. a baby sibling oath. they’re the big sisters now. everything is about to change. and neither of them has ever been more ready.

#answered asks 💌#woso community #⋆˚ ༘ blue stars: asks

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mediumgayitalian · 2 days ago

Text

try shit tuesday reference post

ongoing and (hopefully.) frequently updated! here is a list of my current ideas & hopefuls including any outlines or snippets i have available. the nsfw will be linked from a separate post on my sideblog, @subwillsolace. set up will look like:

idea

general outline/summary

snippet

5+1s (from yalls suggestions):

5 times Will wouldn't accept help and 1 time he did

cecil pov. five times, in the process of growing up, cecil watches his friend refuse help -- from his brothers, from chiron, from cecil himself (when his brothers were gone), from lou ellen, from his younger siblings. and one time cecil sees will accept help from nico.

"Solace, if you don't give me something to do right this second, I'll shadow travel myself right off a fucking cliff," Nico threatens. Will scowls. Cecil straightens, eyes wide. "Fine, you jackass," he grouches, all but flinging a roll of bandages at Nico's head. "Do it right."

5x Hazel had to learn something about the modern world and 1x she didn't

hazel pov. honestly i dont have much of an idea for this one yet so ill come back to it (& would be happy to brainstorm w the person who suggested this).

Will one 5x Apollo campers didn't make it and 1x one did

longer fic, will pov. cass's death, then diana's, then lee's, then michael's, then coming back to the overcrowded infirmary to realize he's alone. to kayla and austin's claiming, as if that will help, this time. and then one time he gets his siblings back -- from nero, when his father rescues them.

Will knows something is wrong because Michael doesn't let him see. Michael always lets him see. He struggles in Michael's grip but he doesn't struggle hard, because he is afraid. He can see the ends of Diana's hair but he cannot see Cass, and he can feel the grass, soaking beneath his bare feet. He does not look down. Instead he clenches the back of Michael's ratty hoodie and breathes through his mouth and says, "Michael, let me go. Please."

five times nico helps will fix his outfit and one time will helps nico fix his

nico pov. the first time he gives will clothes, which is a spare t-shirt because his got blood-soaked fixing a field injury. the second time is because they are going on a stealth mission and no, will, wearing all black is actually not conspicuous in any capacity, i know im doing it but it Fits With The Vibe, you are blond. yes i am discriminating. yes you are going to wear the polo shirt im giving you. sorry. the third time is a toga because will is visiting new rome and is Super pumped about it and oh my gods he looks good in a toga no one is supposed to look good in a toga??? it is a bedsheet???? huh???? the fourth time is. a very homoerotic collection of gifts. for his birthday. it is a wardrobe basically. like acessories and everything. he makes will try it all on in his cabin and it starts silly and gets real gay real fast. the fifth time is a full on tux he makes will wear to his cousins wedding because NO, a dress shirt and jeans is NOT black tie are you on crack. and there is a moment with fixing the bowtie that is. well its something. and there is dancing as slow songs play etc etc. the plus one is a horrible 'if lost return to mr. cullen' 'i am mr. cullen' twilight couple's shirt set will buys nico that he is so excited about that nico has to wear and then endure the immediate onset humiliation from all observing parties.

"Like -- this?" He pushes through the door, mouth screwed up in confusion, and Nico's mouth goes dry. He is -- Nico is not sure whom to blame, exactly. He does not make the robes, he left no instructions with the tailor, only get him a toga for the love of the gods he cannot go to council in shorts and please make sure it fits. But he had not thought to specify the robe be Roman; he had not thought he'd need to. Because what Will is wearing is a chiton. And it looks good. Nico feels his disgusting amount of honey cake do a full, enthusiastic barrel roll in his stomach, gunning for the track up his esophagus. "It looks bad, doesn't it." In other words, he is about to die.

five times nico can’t sleep and one time he can.

nico pov. once in early early camp days, where he misses his sister and sneaks out of the hermes cabin, sneaking up on and scaring the Shit out of a blond boy spying on chiron arguing with a camper in the big house. a second time the first night he is on the streets, sobbing, scared and furious and alone. a third time, half-delirious, trying to fix his own injury in a random country he has shadow-travelled to. a fourth time, in the barracks at new rome, aching with guilt over lying to percy. a fifth time, in the infirmary, watching will work. and in that same first time, when will quietly offers to help.

im leaving the following blank cus i dont have idea for them YET ill come back later

five times will gets trauma flashbacks and bottles it up and the one time he doesn’t.

five times will gives up his personal life for camp and one time he decides to put himself first.

five times nico is away from home and one time he returns

5 times people meet Will for the first time and 1 time he sees someone again if that makes sense

omg five times nico ends up at the infirmary (ill/ injured) and one time (the only one time ever) will gets nursed back to health again

five times will had an emotional breakdown and one time he finally explode (plus if nico is the one he break into )

five times nico didn’t accept will (thinking he doesn’t deserve him) and one time he finally does (bonus if will too try to accept nico) (bonus bonus the timeline is when they were new into relationship aka before toa)

bigger fic (aka probably several chapters) ideas:

lee's backstory.

starting with a pretty young lee. generally just a long story going through his life thinking hes a mortal, although a weird one, in new york, including the time his mother sits him down the nth time he freaks out about monsters he cant prove are there and quietly telling him schizophrenia runs in the family. his teen years as he gives up trying to make people believe him and just learns to take the monsters on himself, decking weird dog head things and stabbing cyclopes in their stupid massive eyes. he wakes up to a bow, once, on his bed. he doesnt tell his mother. he uses it. all the way to his first year at camp, where hes 15 years old and taken by a satyr when his school is blown up with him in it. all the way to the day he wakes up, older sisters already gone, battle on the horizon, and knows he is going to die.

He’s not looking at her when he walks in, just barely before the last second of the bell. She’s looking at him, though. “Lee Fletcher?” Lee whips his head up, pausing at his seat. The woman has the greenest eyes he’s ever seen — unnaturally so, like pools of chlorophyll — and they lock onto him like the scope of a crossbow. “Uh. Yeah.” There’s a click as the door closes. Lee swallows, sliding slowly into his desk, keeping his hand, as surreptitiously as he can, down low by his thigh, just out of view. “You the sub?” Cody sneers from beside him. “You having another episode, freak? Mrs. Cobb has been here all semester.” Lee glances over at — Mrs. Cobb. She watches him carefully, strange eyes carefully blank, scared hands still and stiff on the arms of her chair. He has been in this Calculus II class for seven months now. He has never seen her once. Cody hasn’t either. But Cody’s a fuckin’ dumbass. “Right,” Lee says lightly. “I’ll up to dosage to three batteries a night. Can always count on you, Codster.” Cody scowls deeper, kicking over Lee’s backpack. His books go flying across the front of the classroom, papers fluttering about like butterfly wings. “Whatever, tardo.” “Language,” says Mrs. Cobb. Her voice is low, gravelly; like Lee would expect for someone her age, only there’s an undertone to it, a smoothness he’s never head before. Like the rustling of leaves in the breeze right before you fall asleep. She watches him, again, eyes the only thing that track him, rest of her as stiff as a branch. “If everyone is ready, we’ll get right to it.” Without waiting for input, and completely ignoring the group of kids gossiping away in the corner, she wheels towards the blackboard and starts writing. It does not take long for the few students awake to lose interest. She doesn’t seem to care. “You have a desk, Lee Fletcher.” Lee blinks, coming back to himself; his books have been gathered and his backpack has been zipped. His knees ache, and there are at least four spitballs in his head. Mrs. Cobb pauses, tilting her head to the side. “It’s a challenge in the classroom, isn’t it?” Lee curls a hand around the strap of his backpack. “What is?” “The ADHD.” She taps her stick of chalk, tap, tap, snap. “Useful out in the world, though, I bet. Makes you quick.” There is no reason for her to know about that. Even if she has been his teacher this whole time — and Lee knows she hasn’t, even though he cannot recall who she’s replaced — the school does not have the information. Lee knows. He filled out the forms. He gives up on pretence. “Who the hell are you?“ “Your teacher.” She wheels around, thick eyebrow raised. “And your elder, so I’ll thank you not to speak to me that way.” Lee’s mind races. She is human-sized — Lastrogonians can’t hide that. Neither can cyclops. An empousa would never in a million years choose an elderly form, and their concrete brick of a school is nowhere near so much as a sprout for her to be a dryad, even one of the nicer ones. If it was a minotaur, he’d already be dead. He fuckin’ knew he shoulda read more in his Ancient Zoology: An Alpha to Omega Guide on Ancient Creatures book. Stopping at P was a mistake. “I know you’re not human.” He unzips, as quietly as he can, blindly ruffling through the smallest pocket. “You’re not fooling me, I’m not —” The background sounds of the school go white. Lee faintly, in the back of his tongue, tastes copper. Mrs. Cobb reacts half a second before he does. “Everybody down!” ——— He woke up to ash and heat. Slightly more heat than ash, if he had to quantify.

cabin 7 fic the one time will got really sick

the time will got a fever as a kid and his body went so sun hot when trying to fix it that he would burn anyone who touched him and his siblings just had to watch him suffer. lee pov. him slowly noticing that will is getting sick and then quickly trying to do something about it but it happens FAST and will gets a really really high fever but not just high for a human -- high for will. it burns to touch him and he glows so brightly it is impossible to even look at him without scorching your eyes. hes in pain and hes in danger and lee is terrified because he doesn't know how to fix it. (as referenced in the kayla & lee fic)

Lee probably would have caught it a little sooner -- any of them would. Except: Apollo kids don't get sick. Not really. Not when flu hits hard and fast, as it does every summer, not in '01, Cass tells him, and half the camp got cow fever, somehow. Someone needs to tend to the sick and dying. Their father knows that, and has blessed them. Lee can't really remember being sick ever, except a cold, once, when he was about four. At first he thinks it's another one of Will's migraines. These, all the blessings in the world cannot cure. There's nothing viral about inflamed blood vessels in the brain, there's nothing bacterial about a fever from white blood cells fighting off an illness that isn't there. When Will starts shrinking from the light and wincing at every scattered sound, that's when they know -- the four eldest, Cass, Diana, Lee, and Michael -- know to guide him carefully back to the cabin, pick him up if he's fighting, and send him to sleep before it gets worse. Pray it doesn't stick around when he wakes up. They're not perfect, and they miss it sometimes. They come on suddenly and fast if he's been crying, or if it rains. Sometimes he gets good at hiding it. This one they just miss.

will is turned into a nine year old and keeps asking about his long dead siblings

the outline is huge im posting it separately and linking it here

Will wiggles his feet into falling apart, light-up Star Wars shoes, stomping them once to check that they work and grinning when they do. "Where's Lee, anyway? He's supposed to work mornings so he can do archery in the afternoons." He looks up, hands on his hips in a pose Nico recognizes, intimately; a pose that says I am about to reveal information I gleaned from being a diary-reading little snot and I'm cute so I'm gonna get away with it too. He says: "Allegedly it's because the range is less crowded in the afternoon but the real reason is because his boyfriend said one time that he looks regal in full sun. So." He looks out to the gathered gaggle of them, beaming. The silence rings louder than a mausoleum. No one speaks. "Oooookay," Will says, rocking back on his heels. "Michael, then? Where is everybody?" It is Annabeth, finally, who thinks quickly. "They're on a quest," she blurts. She clears her throat, looking away. "Uh, brand new. As of yesterday." Will tilts his head. "All twelve of them? I thought the rule was three." "...They're going on four separate questions." "Oh, okay. How come I wasn't allowed to go?" "Well, on account of you being nine." "Aw."

the one story where will has a ptsd episode in front of the entire camp and percy as the only one who recognizes it for what it is helps him through it.

another big outliner posted here

They're a lot, mostly. Enough that there is no one looking when a couple giggling Hermes kids load a whole watermelon into a half-rigged trebuchet. There is no one looking when it sails across the sky, thundering through the air; there are a few people looking, when it cracks clean across the ground, showering onlookers in a sea of red. But there are a lot of things sailing through the sky. Some more prudent than others. (Someone gets brisket-ed. That someone, coincidentally, begins their lifelong commitment to veganism.) There is no one looking when Will Solace freezes. There is no one looking when he stands, blank, to steady feet, and walks slowly across the warzone, miraculously safe from cakes and breads and fruits at all kinds of speeds. There is no one looking when he kneels, hemline stained crimson, in the wreck of the stone floor. There is no one looking when he pieces the chunks of jagged green rind in his hands, and starts to sing.

nico raising lee and michael's ghosts to make them give permission for will to get divorced.

this is so funny i’m so mad at past me for never writing it fully. will’s older siblings (read: lee and michael) convinced him that since this was an ancient greek camp they had to follow the ancient greek rules. and children had to get married before they were ten or they’d have to marry mr d. and will was CRYING about it terrified so he went and got married to cecil with like the ancient oaths and stuff so that he didn’t have to marry mr d, and when his siblings found out there were like oh fuck 💀 but like what are you going to do. unmarry them. so nico asks will out years later and will is like i. i want to say yes so badly. but unfortunately we’re going to half to get my husbands permission first. and nico is like your WHAT and will is like IM SORRY IM SORRY ITS SO STUPID BUT I DONT WANT TO PISS OFF HERA. IM SORRY. MY FUCKING BROTHERS WERE SO STUPID. lol.

“Oh, Nico.” The small smile drops completely from Nico’s face. Blood curdles in his veins, it feels, going sour at Will’s wide, round eyes; identical to his dropped open mouth, parallel to his arched brows. Rings of pity. Nico tries, barrenly, to mitigate the damage. He searches the blind-white plains of his mind for an escape, for an excuse; for a waved hand and laughter, for a quiet, dignified nod, for an easy shrug and a sharply turned heel. Instead the inside of his skull scrapes hollow, echoing the swelling pound of his chest, and his eyes burn hotter, hotter, hotter. “Nico.” The misplaced distress in Will’s voice is intolerable. I am so sorry, it says. I didn’t know you felt that way. Nico can feel the bricks rapidly laying in the space between them, thick and heavy and blocky, carved with don’t worry about it and of course we can still be friends. He saves them the trouble and stumbles backwards, away from Will’s outstretched hands, strangled flowers scattering on the splintered roots between them. “Nico, hold on –” The new air between them is cold enough to sting his face, and Nico uses it to propel himself into motion, stumbling backwards and flinging himself through the trees, through the shadows of them. Will follows quickly, still shouting, but Nico knows the forest better than he does and Will’s a klutz. Every other word gets cut off by a yelp, by the sound of branches snapping and dryad cursing, by frantic, distracted apologising. “Nico, you fucking jackass, hold on a second! Let me – speak, godsdammit!” Not a half chance in Hell, except for the genuine anger in Will’s voice. Worry, he could understand – it is in Will’s nature to worry. About Nico especially, he has found. Guilt, even more likely; pity obviously. But anger confuses him. He hunches in the shadow of an old pine tree, half-shroud in its bending needles. Will runs right by him, needles catching in his frizzing hair, slowing to a stop in a burst of sunlight. “Feel free to help me fix this!” he shouts, face turned at the sky. Immediately, several thick clouds are almost dragged over to hide the sun, an astounding act of paternal bravery to which Will responds with several choice words about child support and two stark middle fingers. “Thanks a lot!” “You’re going to get smited,” Nico croaks. The state of his own voice startles him almost as much as Will, who jumps three clean feet in the air and would have twisted his ankle on the way back down were his bones not blessed with holy grace. "Nico!" he cries, dashing over. "Nico, my brothers were fucking stupid!" Nico pauses. He blinks. He swallows, glassy eyes drying. "Huh," he says, eloquently.

trans girl will.

in a hecate cabin mix-up, will gets turned into a girl. a few things are noticeable to nico: 1) will is very, very pretty. 2) his face falls, perceptibly, when well-meaning friends insist that regardless of what he looks like he is still the will they know and love and they should refer to him as such. 3) clarisse, stubbornly, refuses this. 4) will does not avoid her. 5) will does avoid nico. nico intends to get to the bottom of what is going on with his boyfriend. girlfriend. partner. maybe.

...brushing by Clarisse as he walked by. She caught him by the wrist, and he stopped, waiting. Even that was almost impossible to see from this angle. Clarisse looked at him firmly. “Don’t look at me like that, girl. I can play the villain.” “I know.” Will hesitated. “Thank you.” She nodded, and Will scampered off, ducking around the back of the pavilion and disappearing into the Big House. Nico watched closely. When Clarisse caught his eye, she snarled at him. Something was definitely up.

will’s garden of grief.

after the massacre of Every fucking one of his siblings will just went silent. totally mute, wouldn't speak a word. walked around camp like a ghost. and like. it's not that no one noticed it's just that Everyone was grieving right. no one was very attentive of everyone else. you were working thru ur own shit. chiron, tho, who is Millenia old and is unfortunately very practiced at grieving, did his best to help. by which i mean he kept naomi informed when she asked, because when she called her son he would just sit there. so i like to imagine around october naomi got tired and picked him up. drove him to the town they grew up. but not only is he silent hes Angry. and its obvious. he's stiff and miserable and fights but is impossible to fight with because he Wont Fucking Speak and hes thirteen years old so what is she supposed to do? honestly? hes thirteen and his eyes look thirty two. hes haunted. so she sends him to her parents. now naomi is no longer close with her parents. never could be after they kicked her out. will isnt much close to them either, but they love him, and theyve always wanted a relationship with him, even if its strained. so he gets booted off to their ranch and naomi cant tell if hes mad about it or just at the world. she doesnt go with. she stays home with di and cries a lot because she knew some of those kids, too, they wrote her letters, and shes grieving in her own way. in some ways she lost her son. and in his year at the ranch will learns to…live with his grief? kind of? its just work. day in day out. his grandparents care for him but they dont quite know how, so its not like hess talking about his feelings, not like theyd know what to say if he started. he just wakes at dawn and works til twilight. apollo comes to visit him once. grandparents dont know what to do. direct him to the stables will is cleaning. and apollo just sits. will keeps working. they dont say anything. will is furious with him and apollo knows it. apollo is weeping. hes grieving too. when will finally looks over at the end of the day the sun is setting. and apollo is gone. but there are packets of seeds where he was sitting. and will whips them at the fucking wall in fury. how dare he? thats what his siblings are worth? seeds? new growth? get fucked, apollo. get fucked all the way down. how dare you cry. but few days past and those seeds start growing. theyre no normal plants. not really. they glow, and they dont die. there's something odd about them. the animals are intrigued, but wont eat em. snakes and mice sit quietly together among the growing stalks. will's grandpa builds a fence around them. just to keep the horses from tramplin' 'em. they don't tend to, but it cant hurt. they're pretty to look at any way. slowly will comes to sit with them. and then to care for them. and slowly, he starts planting his own next to them. bay tree for michael. borage for diana. carnation for cass. chamomile for lee. flowers for all his siblings, every one, and then it keeps going, he keeps planting; moonlace for bianca, oak for beckendorf. he is obsessed. he spends all day in that garden. he barely sleeps. he barely eats. he passes out in the moonlight, in between the carnations. he heals in that garden. sobbing into his hands. one day he brings nico there. shows him the moonlace.

"Will. Say something, to me." There is nothing but the labored edge of his breathing. Even that is near soundless, muffled as it is; the phone is off the receiver and dangling halfway to the floor, she knows it is. She can picture him, leaned against the cracking office chair, blue eyes blank, connecting dots in the popcorned ceiling. Hands limp at his sides. Still. "Will," she begs, again, and tries not to cry. "Will, baby."

michael's videos.

everyone in the infirmary cus it’s a rainy day and they’re bored and they go to turn on the ancient vcr player and it starts playing a home video michael made. will drops what he's doing and half-walks half-crawls over to the tv, hairs on his fingers raising as they brush the screen. everyone watches with held breath, as they see and hear the thousands of different ways will was loved, will was taken care of.

“Will, I’m bored.” Nico will never say it to his boyfriend’s face. He’s smarter than that. But gods above, is it fucking funny watching his eyes twitch. In Will’s defense he is of course justified. He has been nagged all morning and afternoon. In fact, most of the brats whining at him in the infirmary probably don’t even need to be here — it’s just cold and rainy, grey and sad, and the infirmary is light and warm and sweet-smelling. If Nico had to listen to thirty complaining demigods waste his time for upwards of six hours, he’d lose his shit too. But he’s not the one with a saviour complex, so he gets to enjoy the several deep, calming breaths Will takes, sniggering into his DS. He gets to enjoy Will's eye twitching as he slaps a smile on his face, visibly shoving down the murderous urges. “The really cool thing about me not being your mom,” Will begins, voice carefully measured, “is that your boredom is not my problem.” “But Wi-ill!” “Fucksake, Cecil, fling a pen at someone! Count to three-hundred thousand! Hold your breath until you pass out, I dunno. But let. Me. Work.” He stands for a moment, glaring, then stomps off to the nurse's station muttering to himself, slamming a bunch of vials and jars onto the counter. Nico starts to feel a little bad. But then the complaining starts up again, and it is hard not to laugh. Four people whine in tandem: “But you’ve been working all daaaaaayyyyy!” "You're boring," Gracie adds, sticking her tongue out at her brother. “That one actually is your problem,” Nico points out. He ducks back down behind his DS when Will whips around to face him, betrayed, biting back his grin. Will's glare goes nowhere. “Just saying.” “How about I punt you into the sun, di Angelo. Gods. You heal a guy outta the goodness of your heart.” The thing about Will, though, as much as he huffs and rolls his eyes, is that he does, in fact, care, and people’s discomfort does, in fact, bother him, even though it shouldn’t and he should probably spend less time going out of his way. Whatever. He’ll learn. Now, though, he stomps over to a forgotten corner opposite to the door and drags out the most ancient TV Nico has maybe ever seen, which is saying something because his family actually owned one of the first TV sets to ever hit Italy, and shoves it towards the middle of the room, because he hasn’t learnt, and probably won’t. “Woah.” Kayla blinks. “Where’d that beast come from?” "Dude." Will blinks right back at her, aghast. “It’s, like��been here.” “It has?!” “The whole time, Kayla.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “How many shifts have you worked in this building, again?” “Oh, shut up. Like you can name every single thing that exists collecting dust in this place.” “I can so! I clean it!” “Sure, Jan. The four inches of dust on the VCR play — gods, the VCR player, that’s fucking crazy — say otherwise.”

mortal diner au w hot goth drifter nico and absolutely whipped gone for him immediately waiter will.

will is working the diner easter somethin cus there’s no school and he’s finally old enough to get paid on paper (14). nico comes in, he’s 16, with his own car (pickup truck) and a job to do in town (tile the pastors backyard). will brings him his order and sticks, endlessly curious. nico is blunt but perhaps amused. every year nico comes on the same day to do the same job. he’s been emancipated since the day he turned sixteen and doing odd labour jobs, tiling mostly, all around the south. he reads in his spare time. and he writes will letters, to which he tries to reply but never knows where nico is so nico only ever gets them when he’s in the state with his p.o. box. every time he’s there he and will hang out for longer and longer. earlier when will is fifteen and it’s nico second visit he comes broken. scarred up hands from a year of working and a broken bone that ain’t healed right. will quietly has him come back to his and helps heal him up. THIS is the first time nico stays a while, but he gets spooked and leaves a little early. he sends a letter, though, to thank him, and will sends it back, and di grumps when she notices. comments on what shes heard about who will is writing letters to damn near every day and he should watch himself. naomi tells her its harmless and she had her puppy crushes too. di reminds her that this boy will is obsessed with is a deviant with an eyebrow piercing. and must she forget that the her puppy crushes on boys with eyebrow piercings is the reason will exists. and naomi has nothing to say to that but helps will smuggle his letters out when he needs to.

when will is seventeen he and nico spend The Night together, wherein they sleep together. this is after day after day after day of letters, and the rest of the day hanging out. clear for the first time that nico is serious about him. will is wide eyed and desperately desperately happy. will waits and waits the next year. eighteenth birthday comes and goes. college is right on the horizon and nico won’t know where he is. he plays with the defer sememser button, unsure. but nico finds him, the last sunday before september. wills stuff is already packed, he’s washing tablecloths. he hears nicos truck rumble and sprints out so fast nico damn near hits him, throwing open the already unlocked passenger door and pressing nico against the window, kissing him. he runs back in to write a note and jumps back in, and they drive into the sunset. based on the song suds in the bucket.

"Trucker?" asks Lou Ellen, voice tinny over the landline speaker. Will hums, leanin' over the counter. "Contractor, I think. Tools in the back." "What kind?" "Contraptions, Lou, I dunno. Cutter, maybe. Blade'a some kind. One'a them -- mixer, thingies? Lotsa buckets." "Someone gettin' a pool in, maybe?" "Could be. Could be." Will's doodled-on homework slips to the sticky floors, facedown. He doesn't notice, busy reachin' up to his tiptoes tryna see 'round the cracked-open door. The engine finally kills, but the lights stay flicked on, spotlightin' a table in the far back corner that has yet to be cleared from its patrons this morning. "Betcha he's forty. Divorced, drifting 'round with nothin' to do on the holidays. Baldin'." "He's not baldin'," Will argues, laughin'. "You guess every man is baldin'!" "'Cause each one'a them is!" "Naw." Will flicks his eyes over to the clock, bitin' his lip. "Betcha he's cute." "Oh, you think he's cute. Shocker. Betcha he's short." "What, 'cause he's in a truck? He's a contractor, Lou." "Truck raised?" "...Yeah." "He's short. He's short and forty and divorced and will leave you a quarter for a tip, if any. Stop lookin' right now." "Well, I gotta feed 'im." "Yeah, pie. Put them other thoughts away." Will ducks his head to muffle his snort. He has no other thoughts -- well, not really -- but it's fun to rile her up. "Whatever you s --" The lights flick off, front door shovin' open. Will jerks his head up, eyes wide -- "Is he out? Is he short? Tell me he's short!" -- and leans so far over to follow the black boot that follows that he tumbles right over the counter and joins his textbook, shrieking. The poor landline clatters to the floor, cuttin' Lou's every other word. "Will -- what -- you -- okay -- murderer??? -- I'm --" He rushes to stand, managing to dust himself off just as the man pushes the creaky door open wide enough to walk in, glancing up at the bell-less frame. "Huh," he says. It's a boy. Or -- a teen, rather.

mortal au but it’s not actually mortal is it ft. slowly dawning horror and amnesia.

nico wakes up to nothing on his phone but one contact labelled ‘will texas’. cannot remember anything else. and is like well. shit. and calls going “are you — will texas?” and will laughs out loud he’s like well technically! who are you? what do you need.

and they meet up and it turns out nico had amnesia and has maybe been a victim of some kind of robbery?? or something. so will, the youngest doctor in the state — made headlines and everything — takes him to work to get him checked out. they even stay together, because will recognises him: they dated, for a little, in their late teens. the gag is they fall slowly in love. roommates to lovers kinda deal. but they also fall slowly into realisinf something is Wrong (the real will and nico have been cursed by a god to slip into a dream realm when they’re out fighting them or something, except they’re so down bad and so in tune with each other that they fall into the SAME DREAM and get each other out without realizing).

Nico jerks awake on a bus. Which feels — wrong.

teacher au

will was a paediatric nurse who noticed a lot of the long term care kids were falling severely behind and spent most of his shifts tutoring them, realised he loved teaching and went into that, where he met nico -- the band teacher ('failed' music prodigy, who ran from the practice when his sister was killed and has not been in contact with his father for years). (fair warning this one is gonna be set in. toronto. bc thats what i know. lol.)

The building is old. Run-down. Will waits, outside the doors with the broken windows. He is -- certified, still, technically. His friends tell him the hospital remains short-staffed in the two years he's been gone. He could go back, right now. Turn around. They'd take him. He inhales, squaring his shoulders. He forgets to exhale and sways a little. This does not bode well. He taps his fob on the scanner beside the doorbell and manages to walk inside without tripping.

retelling of canon from BoO

slight divergence where everything is mostly the same except the entire time nico can see the ghosts of lee and michael hovering over will's shoulders, accidentally clouding him from the sun.

There isn’t enough time to clear a cot. Will barrels in their direction almost faster than Nico can see, sliding to a spot on a clear spot on the grass, right before they drop him. There is blood everywhere. Pooling. The gets heavy. Like a ringing in his ears, Nico starts to hear strings. “Hear that?” murmurs Michael, grinning. He nods over at Will, where he is muttering, where he is shifting. The strings play louder, and louder. “That’s the violins.” Lee nods. “They play in his head.” There is a background of cello, Nico things, every two beats; arpeggioing over ever half-note, over every minor second. Paolo moans, and the music swells. Enveloped in green, in golden, Will slams his hands to the ground. In a perfect circle around them, extending to the edge of onlookers’ toes, grass dies — bees stop hovering, dropping like stones before melting into the ground, disappearing with the dandelions into the packed earth. Will inches closer to Paolo’s prone, bleeding form, waving a white-hot hand from skull to knees, breathing heavy. Nico kneels to the ground, slowly. He presses his hands over the soft grass, and exhales, closing his eyes: he winced at the onslaught of noise, of rapidly birthing and dying spirits singing so high they screech, scrabbling over each other for a spot, for a moment of touch to the solid ground. He pushes, slowly, as far as he can outwards, past the song of snake and slug, cell and skeleton; he extends his reach to the firm line of Will’s circle and pushes through the hardened ground. It is silent. His eyes fly open. “Sterile,” he breathes, mouth falling open. “It’s sterile.” “As a wine barrel,” Michael confirms, grinning. “Ah, yes. The yeast-addled wine barrel. Famously free of microbial life.” “Fine. Whisky barrel.” The archer turns to his brother, scowling, and punches him on his blood-spattered shoulder. “Man, you ruin all my fuckin’ metaphors. Sterile as a whiskey barrel. Sounds like shit. Asshole.” Lee grins through the broken V of his mouth, unrepentant. “Not my fault your metaphors are dogshit.” He shifts to put his crushed eyes in Nico’s direction, skull-pierced eyebrows wagging. “The music is getting louder. Something big is going to happen — keep an eye on the sky.” Nico glances up, dutifully, and indeed the few clouds are churning: they’ve circled, now, in the dead centre above them, previously powder-white cumuli darkening something serious. Nico hears muttering again and drops his gaze back down to watch it, to watch Will slow the blood flowing from Paulo’s stubs, watch him hold a hovering, heated hand over the rapid rise-and-fall of his chest, two waving lines extending from his thumb and pinky to circle around the protruding bone. He can understand it, for the first time, Nico realises. His muttering as he heals. Gravelly and under-his-breath, the koine Greek travels neatly to Lee and Michael’s waiting ears, echoey like weeping along the Styx. Lee, whispers the voice, tickling Nico’s cochlea, what do I do? Lee steps forward, humming. His cracked fingernails are gentle on the heated skin of Will’s neck. “Well,” he murmurs, squeezing his shoulders, “what can you do?” “Enabler,” Michael snorts, nudging Nico’s elbow. “He’s gonna get him smited.” The violins slow, and Will’s breathing follows. He closes his eyes for a half of a second, leaning into Lee’s touch. “Arms,” he orders, in English. Lee floats back. Several onlookers shift nervously. “Will —” “Arms.” Annabeth passes them over, shaking. He lines them up below both stumps, turning them carefully, and exhales, quick and sharp; when his closed eyes open again, they are nothing but sockets of pure light, glowing with every breath, pulsing along with every measure, with every intensifying bow.

no gaia au where a few years post Battle of Manhattan

nico is streaming a video game and gets attacked mid-game but the goddess he’s fighting sends him back in time as a final effort to beat him. it works, landing him in medieval europe, but he manages to keep his stream somehow. in his quest to get his ass back to the future and stay alive in this wack ass place where no one washes their hands he meets the town apothecary, will solace, who everyone thinks is insane and who, as a seer of the future, believes nico’s story immediately. nico takes him back to the modern world with him when he finally makes it back.

He panics and it is stupid, it is, because he is still a fucking demigod even though he is a demigod 500 years ago. He can fight. He can handle himself. He can shadow-travel wherever the fuck he pleases, for Hades' sake. But he's also human, with a human brain. And human brains have evolved very little since they were invented a hundred thousand years ago so when he gets chased with actual pitchforks and torches the part of his brain that can do calculus or whatever ceases functioning, and the bigger part of his brain that has been around since lizard times goes gronk should leave. And Nico, who is no greater than the stone age man clubbin' about in his noggin, leaves. At great speeds. He runs, is what he is trying to say. And shrieks a little. The mob is big, okay. There are like. Ninety people. And none of them can be hurt by his sword.

nico and will sending each other constant letters

nico leaves for a long mission for his dad in the underworld. will is convinced they were about to kiss goodbye but nico got spooked and is Furious and Blushy about it. few days later he gets a letter and ends up More Furious and Blushy. the fic gets both mellower (in terms of will's attitude) and more desperate as their letters get more poetic and yearning in nico's absence and will really, truly starts to miss his best friend. i haven't figured out how to end it yet i just Really want to write their letters.

And Will screamed his frustration so loud the camper jumped out of his skin, squeaking out an excuse, and walked quickly off, which was just as well because Will doubted he could be very much help when he was so busy stomping back to his cabin, burying his face in his pillow, and screeching until his voice went hoarse. "Fucking boys!" he shouted. Lou Ellen, in his cabin for some reason, flipped a page of her magazine, snorting. "Hear, hear." And that was that. -- -- -- Except that wasn't that. Because Nico sends him letters. "I don't get any of those," Percy observes , peeking over his shoulder. Will slams the paper to his chest. shoves his face away, and storms off, face burning. "Maybe because you are a tool," he mutters darkly, and flushes worse when he does not mutter at all, and Annabeth laughs so hard she chokes. He ducks into the stables and presses his steaming forehead to the wood, eyes squeezed shut, letter clutched to his chest as he waits out Annabeth's wheezing, Percy's hurt mumbling. "I'm not a tool, am I?" "Oh my gods I am going to pass out." Once she reassures him, giggling, and drags him off Somewhere Else, Will peeks out. There is Clovis, curled up on the ground, but he is out cold. There is Miranda, a little ways away, tending to an olive tree, but she minds her own business. There is Connor, rigging...something, but that is okay. Will knows his pressure points. He exhales, willing the heat away from his face. It doesn't work. He sits down in Guido the Pegasus's stall, anyway, shooting him a small smile in greeting, and smooths out the letter on his thigh. It reads:

i wrote these ones down but i cant remember what my idea was for the fuckin life of me so:

will's burn scars & abilities exploration ft. post- toa apollo.

the seer will mortal au.

that one little will pov piece from vampire money.

time loop fic where will wakes up every day as an eight year old, in his first year of camp, with all his siblings alive. every day it gets harder and harder to try and get out — it’s just so safe there, and he is surrounded by everyone who he failed in the present. to get back to the present he has to let go of the past. (i remember this one i just dont have a lot to say about it rn ill come back to it later)

royal au long story (i.e. from the beginning) (i didn't forget this one either but i can't find my fucking outline so i'll come back when i do find it)

nsfw list here

remaining (i think) 100 ways:

“No, no, it’s my treat.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Watch your step.”

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Look both ways.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Drive safely.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“One more chapter.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“That’s okay, I bought two.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I picked these for you.”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“Did you get my letter?”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have fun.”

“I made reservations.”

"I don't mind."

“I’ll pick it up after work.”

“I’ll help you study.”

“I did the dishes.”

“You didn’t have to ask.”

“I bought you a ticket.”

“I’ll meet you halfway.”

“We can share.”

“Do you want to come too?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

“Is your seatbelt on?”

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I hope you like it.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I believe in you.”

“You can do it.”

“Good luck.”

“I brought you an umbrella.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Be careful.”

#lots a shit on here damn #anyways. enjoy #longpost

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midnightmariana · 2 days ago

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Do we want more crazed observations? Here's some stuff that struck me as odd that I jotted down after watching S3 Pt1 :3

Spoilers for S3 Pt1!!! None for Pt2 tho-

-> Episode 1: “That’s never been the way of this monastery.” Followed by an absolutely DIABOLICAL eyebrow raise. Lloyd didn’t really teach Frak how to change what Ras’ taught him. IN FACT he inadvertently doubled DOWN by saying:

-> Episode 1: “I like that enthusiasm, reminds me very much of Arin.” Y’know Arin? WHO LEFT TO JOIN RAS. I believe this could have led to Frak trying to prove himself as more than Ras’ lackey (in Episode 2). Btw Lloyd got hit with a piece of wood from the training course and just rubbed his head, like he barely felt it. Kinda like cough cough Powerlid-

-> Episode 2: “Can we not bicker. Let’s go.” Is a HUGE shift from how Lloyd usually attempts to diffuse arguments. He's been attempting wise leader stuff as of late, it's just kinda out of character-

-> Episode 2: “...” WHEN THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT ‘EVIL’ ONI. He kinda just stared into the distance that time. Obviously, you’d all think we’d immediately look at Lloyd for a reaction but HE’S NOT EVEN LOOKING AT FRAK AND SORA??? There’s no way the writers and animators would think we would NOT look at him. Why wasn’t he animated with anything besides a blank face, unless they’re trying to intentionally throw it out there that something is off with Lloyd. However, the team wasn’t exactly in the most welcoming place to go, “Oh yeah, I’m an Oni!”

-> Episode 2: “Yeah even if there were a uh…” Lloyd didn’t hear them say cyclops LIKE SIX TIMES??? He was not there at ALL.

-> Episode 2: "I don't wanna turn around..."

-> Episode 2: “So… you two ready or what?” Lloyd said that very lightheartedly BUT Sora and Frak were having a REALLY emotional conversation about Arin. He should’ve known to not interrupt them.

-> Episode 4: “Will you two knock it off.” Similar to the first Episode 2 line.

-> Episode 7: “What’s the point of a legendary weapon if I’m not gonna use it?” Lloyd was so RECKLESS WITH THAT. That is NOT what he’s been taught.

-> Episode 8: “If my uncle really caused the Merge, I have to believe he had a good reason.” Arin just told Lloyd that the Merge caused by his UNCLE is the reason his parents died. Read the ROOM.

-> Episode 8: “No… I didn’t mean… I-I just…” FOLLOW UP. WHAT LLOYD??? NO BUD NO. Lloyd sounds so tired it’s actually insane.

-> Episode 10: “...” When Thunderfang throws him into the side of a CLIFF. He doesn’t put up as much of a fight. In fact, he seemed way more passive in battle (and all battles this season). Lloyd was always on defense, barely on offense.

-> Episode 10: “I’ve had some pretty weird days… but this might be the weirdest one yet.” Lloyd casually joked. After he DIED. He had his soul RIPPED OUT after a gruesome battle. You don’t JOKE ABOUT THAT.

-> Episode 10: “...” WHEN SORA LEFT TO JOIN ARIN AND RAS.

Additional stuff:

Lloyd’s face is pretty much blank this season.

That could be an animation thing for everyone, but you can just look at other characters to check that.

Similarly, the cast’s emotions were turned up this season (Kai and Nya’s sibling bickering, Roby and Wyldfyre being lovey dovey, Zane and Pixal winning couple of the year, Sora and Arin with their friendship being torn apart) providing a BIGGER contrast between their emotions and Lloyd’s seemingly lack thereof.

Lloyd’s interactions with Frak were… cold. It was purely professional, almost like Lloyd didn’t want to get attached. I wonder why lmao-

The Dragonians showed us that ancient magic can easily corrupt dragons. Hey Lloyd, you're part Oni and part what again?

These blades are magically forged by the Source Dragons right? How come slapping Lloyd around with a blade broke it? They should have just hit Lloyd with the blade, and it'd be broken. I wonder why they didn't retraumatize him-

There's proly a lot more that I simply just didn't right down- But yeah that's some of what I have rn >:3 I saw some of you guys reblog and I kinda wanted to give more of my thoughts :3

#ninjago dr season 3 #ninjago #ninjago lloyd #ninjago dragons rising #don't ever let me cook (I burnt the food)

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beetlbi · 2 days ago

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For the Ghostly Falls AU

What were Ford’s college years, like? Did the devastation of Stanley’s disappearance make him Dropout of West Coast Tech?

If he dropped out did he face the same reaction of Filbrick’s anger and was kicked out for giving up all those millions of dollars?

Did he even enjoy his time at WCT, cause if you asked me that place was an elitesit den of vanity filled “Pigs in power.” Who bullied him for his deformity, for him not being rich.

He also would’ve hated his roommate unlike Fiddleford. (Possibly one of the Sibling Brothers or a Northwest “Preston’s Uncle?”)

His professors wouldn’t have actually given him the time of day, or straight up ignored him.

Basically Ford’s dream school would turn into a Nightmare and thanks to Lee disappearing he ultimately gives up and just becomes self taught, without any “real” accreditation.

Thank you for asking!! Ford actually never made it to WCT, this time not because of the perpetual motion machine, but because he completely gave up on schooling after Stanley disappeared. He dedicated all his time to figuring out where Stan was, and doing so involved a good bit of crime. He broke into their high school at night, and when that didn’t give him any new information he decided to break into the police station… it went poorly. At that point he was running on fumes, about as bad as he was before the portal incident.

He ended up going to Backupsmore, not as an alternative to WCT, but because it was that or prison time. Essentially, it was parole, a chance to prove he could use that big brain of his for good. He got off easy because before that point he was a model student, and people were sympathetic to him losing his brother.

As for Filbrick and Caryn… well things also go poorly there. Loss can bring people together, but it can also tear them apart, and that’s exactly what happened to the Pines family after Stan’s “death”. Caryn enabled Ford's searching for answers, insisting that if Stanley was dead she would have felt it, while Filbrick claimed to believe that Stanley had simply run off, that he’d be back as soon as he saw what the “real world” was like. When that didn’t happen, he insisted the case was closed and that Stan was dead, wouldn’t hear a word otherwise.

When Ford was caught breaking into the police station, it was BAD. Filbrick probably would’ve thrown Ford out if they weren’t in the middle of a police investigation and being heavily scrutinized. As it was, he refused to visit him in jail, and then refused to see him again afterwards. The last time Ford saw Filbrick was when he was gathering his stuff to head to backupsmore.

On the bright side, he and his mother ended up very close 🎉🎉 aaaaand he still almost never sees her :/ He’s got too much research to do on solving cold cases and ghosts!! On another bright side he gets to meet Fiddleford! Yayy his life doesn’t completely suck!

And now picture a ghostly Stan watching his brother throw his life away and his family fall apart while being able to do nothing about it :}

Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble!! I really need to finish the ghostly falls comic I started lol

#you are absolutely right that if he had made it to WCT he would have hated it #not only would he have been the ‘six fingered freak’ he would have been the dead brother guy #he also would have most likely dropped out #and been disowned after doing so #gf #ghostly falls au #gravity falls #ford pines #Stanford pines #stanley pines #Stan pines #gravity falls au #beetlblah #caryn pines #filbrick pines #ask

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erwinsvow · 3 hours ago

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love both the robby and langdon sister suggestions but i’m still thinking about walsh’s sister!! i think there’s some potential there, walk with me. walsh is a surgical attending meaning there’s a lot of pressure there and big shoes to fill when you’re also going into the medical field. i also think it would add to it since walsh is also night shift

have SOOOOOOO many thoughts on this. when i made that post i was honestly thinking walsh's little sister but i wanted to leave it up in the air. this is SOOOO amazing. i'm not just walking sister i'm running with you. sooo we can decide if reader would be on the surgery team but i personally looove me a first year emergency reader. just bright eyed and bushy tailed, the nurse's favorite, and i think it's fun if you're very different from your sibling!!!! walsh's personality in the show is so fun to watch because i loooove how she snaps at people. and she's not in too much which is sad so i hope we see more of her. i personally headcanon that she and jack didn't have a relationship she just hates him because he's annoying as fuck. "crazy pants" "fancy pants" little sister reader staring between them like guys.. the patient? soooo a little sweetheart reader who is eager to impress and her little mean streak comes out and in those moments you sound just like emery. snapping at a patient who's screaming at his nurses, being a little stickler for the rules, not hesitating to get an opinion from surgery (aka your big sister!) unlike some of the others. it's natural to you to go to her when you have a question you can't figure out the answer to. she helped you decide what field to go into, what shoes are the best for twelve hour shifts, how to adjust to night shift, what type of cookies to bake to bring in because it's been a bad week and everyone needs a pick me. things you cannot go to your big sister about: your crush on your attending, how you see the entire world in the green of his eyes, how you can't focus when he stands next to you and how to not be weird about having a huge crush on your attending. obviously it's not gonna take jack that long to put two and two together—he's always liked you but at some point like turned into really like turned into dot dot dot. turned into midnight conversations and grabbing your arm and ducking behind a wall when your sister shows up so he can finish listening to your story before she takes you away. turned into trying to snap less at her so you don't think it's hopeless when you finally tell her about you two. turned into being the one who gets to console you after a bad loss instead of your sister—that one really bites. also how she finds out—catches you crying in jack's arms behind a curtain and sees jack lean in for a forehead kiss and all hell breaks loose. emery stands by the fact that jack is annoying and has no business dating his residents!!!! except it's clear you two love each other. they both volunteer at the VA together so it's not like he's completely unlikable—everyone knows jack abbot is a good guy and exactly the kind of guy you want dating your sister. does NOT approve of the age difference and is meaner about it than your parents are. you would never hear the end of "i know everyone's got daddy issues these days but this is taking a little far" and "get away from my sister before i stab you with this scalpel." I LOVE THEM!!

#back to studying #I LOVE U <3 #📮 asks #jack abbot

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sombrashe · 2 days ago

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ohh i'm glad you take reqs for jesse! it can be any jesse or both i dunno, maybe the show's jesse? young mazino is too fine istg

can you write smth about reader being joel's daughter and dating jesse in secret until they are caught by ellie/dina or even joel/tommy.

them trying to keep their relationship a secret 😭 i find it so sweet to think abt!!! having jesse sneaking thru your window for a kiss gnight or patrolling 2gether and taking a little too long to return to jackson and always finding a way to be next to one another 😭 i love secret relationships that get busted by their friends

if that's not ok or not smth you want to write that's totally fine! thank u anyway 💜

caught tlou tv show jesse

content ִ ࣪𖤐⋆ miller!reader, siblings reader & ellie, joel lives au, dina still has jj but earlier, they/them pronouns used for reader

note ִ ࣪𖤐⋆ i got sooo carried away with this lmao i hope you enjoy it!!

the first time it's ellie who catches you two

you're curled up in jesses lap, the tv low in the background. some horror movie flashes on the screen as the plot twist is revealed. you're yapping away, your smile bright as you tell jesse all about patrol.

"Cat ended up falling through the roof of a snowed in house and sprained her ankle. I had to rig up some rope thing to pull her out. It was a nightmare, but I got her out."

he was just about to reply when the door to your room swung open. you sit up, your forehead slamming into his chin. you're both laid out groaning as ellie stands there. watching the two of you for a moment she points directly at you.

"When did this start?"

"Two months ago, on New Year's Eve."

"And you're already getting caught?"

"Sorry."

she shakes her head and points at jesse.

"You treat them right, understand?"

he nods and she frowns before leaving. she never takes her eyes off jesse. when she leaves you're left with a headache and a bruised forehead.

the second time it's dina who catches you two

your kisses are soft and curt. just something small in the middle of the party to satiate you two. you're in the back of the town hall, your bodies hidden behind some coats and gun. you're both like kids in love just straight giggling between kisses as you enjoy the others company. it's when the fireworks start dying down that you decide to join the rest of the town again.

"Are you guys fucking in here? Why is it so warm?"

"Because it's the middle of august."

you gesture to the heat practically seeping through the floorboards. she rolls her eyes and pop her hand on her hip. taking a few more steps she grabs you by the arm. dragging you away from jesse she whispers in your ear.

"You're not pregnant too."

"What? God, no. I would scream."

"Good. You like him?"

"Yeah, a lot."

"How long?"

"New Year's Eve."

"Oh, so that's where you two were."

you nod and she purses her lips in thought. after some deliberation she finally nods and leaves you alone with her voice echoing in the small space.

"I'll give you my leftover condoms. Not like I need them anymore."

the third time it's aunt maria who catches you two

sighing you rub your cheek against jesse's with a faint smile. your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck as you rest comfortably on his lap. the room is filled with smoke and you're not expecting your replacement for at least another hour. the walkies have been silent for forty minutes or something and it's been nothing but nice. your skin jumps as marias voice cuts off your high yapping.

"Jesse? Y/N? Where are you two?"

jumping off his lap you stumble and fall back into place. wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you. that's how maria finds you both just wrapped in each other. looking at you through the doorway she sends her partner off to start their rounds before walking in. pointing between you two she gives a sift smile.

"Is this a thing?"

you feel your face heat up and for some reason aunt maria finding you two embarrasses you more than anything. sliding off his lap you make sure to take your time so you don't stumble again. facing maria you look over at her with a soft smile.

"Since New Years Eve."

"Good, glad you finally got together. It's been long enough hearing you two talk about the other. Now go on, get your coats. Get back to Jackson quickly, it's cold out there."

the fourth time it's uncle tommy who catches you two

smiling you presses kisses against jesse's exposed chest. smooth skin peppered in moles and marks from years in the apocalypse. you laid across his front while lazy arms encircled your waist. much less lazy hands squeeze and rub at your blanketed butt. you felt absolutely amazing and was riding on cloud 9 when a noise alerts you two. hopping out of the bed jesse only has time to throw on his boxers before the door is thrown open. covering your head with the blanket you silently scream into fabric.

"Ah, hell. Is this why you two skipped out on patrol?"

ripping the blanket from your face you get ready to argue. jesse lets out a noise much like a surprised seal.

"What patrol? We went out this morning."

"No you went out, they weren't scheduled. Did you two go on patrol together? Where's Mike?"

"He got sick, he said he cleared it with you."

"He did not."

the room is silent as tommy mulls over the news. looking between you two his eyebrows furrow.

"Does Joel know?"

"No, sir."

you glance over at jesse, his formal tone a weird reminder of your spot in this community. sitting up you hug the blanket over your shoulders so only your head pokes through.

"Please don't tell him, not yet."

"You need to tell 'em. You can't let him catch ya'll like this. He'll kill me."

"Okay, I promise. I'll talk to him tomorrow. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong. Lord knows how hypocritical it'd be of me to lecture you."

with that he takes one glance look between you two before walking out mumbling.

it takes you three days to finally tell your dad

you're sweating bullets as you knock on joels door. you can hear him mumbling and cursing behind the oak as he fiddles with whatever. a chair scrapes against wood and the door it opened to a frown. it only takes a second before he realizes who you are with a wide smile.

"How are you doing, sweet pea? Something the matter?"

you take a deep breath before nodding. taking his hand in yours you keep your voice steady.

"Me and Jesse are dating. No i'm not telling you because i'm pregnant and yes we are being safe."

he frowns and thinks hard for a long while. keeping your hand enclosed in his he stares directly at them the entire time. every question imaginable must be running through his mind as he thinks about the words he wants to use.

"How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"Since New Years Eve."

"An entire year and you never said a word?"

"I didn't want you to get all dad mode on me."

"Well it's not like I have a lot of experience in this department."

"I know, but I promise everything's been great. Jesse is sweet and kind and everyone approves. Even Ellie."

he hums and pats your hand. nodding slightly he kisses the top of your head with a long sigh.

"You're growing up so fast, kiddo. Remember when we first got here and you spilled your ice cream all over Jesse's pants?"

"Oh god, don't remind me. I must have cried for hours that night."

"Yep with Ellie right beside you trying to calm you down. Time flies."

giving you a soft hug he holds you at an arms length. letting you back away he smiles before asking if you wanna join him in fixing a clock.

"Duh."

#the last of us #the last of us tv show #jesse tlou #jesse x reader #clicker writes

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hp-debates-ramblings · 23 hours ago

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Okay, well yeah comparing death eaters to KKk wasn't quite good but it was late my mind was okay.

Back to Petunia. The magic was unnatural. Completely. Especially to a Muggle family. Besides, Lily wasn't even bothered by that.

It's wasn't an insult to tell her sister not to use magic when 'Mummy told you not to!' and she isn't wrong for saying 'How do you do it?' bc both of those are understandable.

Her sister is younger than her, playing with her and doing things their parents have forbidden. She is jumping from swings at a dangerous arc. If she had not had magic, she'd have been hurt. Her Mum told her not to, and as the older sibling and as they had no idea what magic was, Petunia was completely in the right to tell her to not.

And she was also a kid. What Lily could do was cool. She did wonder how to do it. This is not hypocrisy. Bc on one hand she is telling her sister to not do dangerous things with the magic bc Mummy said not to, bc she isn't supposed to-- their mum forbidden it. On the other her sisters magic is cool.

She was being a responsible sibling in that whole scene.

And Petunia as an adult was horrible. But not as a kid. That 11 year old girl was not the same as the adult.

And she didn't hate Lily or have prejudice at that moment. She was rightfully telling her sister to not do dangerous things, and curious about this think her baby sister could do. It's siblinghood. It's what any big sister would have done. Is there jealousy in there when she asks? Yeah. But as far as they're concerned, Lily has an insane amount of party tricks and all.

And while Snape isn't a predator, Petunia was completely right to be grossed out and call Lily far away from him. I was looking at that from her perspective. The swings were in front of their home. And there was a nine year old boy watching them play.

I can't blame her. He isn't a predator. But it would have been very creepy for her. It's not a normal thing for a nine year old boy to that, no matter what. It is creepy. And while she stated a fact (he was spying), he just insulted her, though she didn't get quite what Muggle meant.

And then the things Lily and Snape did afterwards was what caused the prejudice and hatred.

I'll skip the spying on them scene, because Petunia was wrong to do so, tho that branch was also very wrong.

The sneaking into her room. Now whatever was the reason for going through her things, I do wonder why they were in the room in the first place? That was Lily's fault, no doubt. But bothnof them went through their things. Lily tries justifying it both she and Lily are wrong here.a

And yeah, the freak thing isn't alright. But all this started after Snape. He ruined the relationship. And in context, I can't blame her.

Lily went through her things. For no good reason. She was absolutely wrong. And Petunia's 'freak' was a word spoken in anger.

She continued speaking it which is wrong, but in that moment it was a word in anger and hurt and betrayed by her sister.

Which siblings do. Siblings call each other things in anger, and even when not angry. This was the first time Sherlock said it, and this time she was quite justified because the anger brought it on. The rightful anger and hurt.

I think Severus was one of the bravest characters in the series

🐣

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togrowoldinv · 1 year ago

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One day I’ll write a fic I’ve had in my mind about mama Natasha watching her kids play high school basketball and being absolutely way too into the game

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #I’m projecting #but tell me she won’t be mama bear when her kids get fouled #and all the siblings watching would be so good #this little family I’ve created #Ali Ivan and Jack play ball

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smartzelda · 5 months ago

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Sorry guys I gotta speak my truth on this one

I'm not kidding when I say that I think that blaming shit media literacy from fans on shipping/shippers avoids the actual root of the problem to throw people you can easily throw under the bus (simply because it's not unpopular to consider people who post about ships or ship characters in media as having lesser or derivative tastes by default)

And here's why.

I think when you blame people who are "shippers" or "consume media through shipping lenses", the true root of it all is a mindset problem.

In actually, putting on shipping lenses can be helpful when trying to analyze a piece of media. When analyzing media you're supposed to approach it through a number of mindsets and put on different lenses (both to deepen your personal understanding of the media, and to pick it apart and see what you can find there (whether intentional or not on the author's part)), and different ships can be some of those lenses

When it comes to ships between main characters (for those who are genuinely willing to see what the narrative is showing with their relationship and what it's doing), there are times when analyzing it from a shipping lens may be helpful. As someone from KH fandom, I have seen people come to deeper understandings and pick canon apart in the process of analyzing a relationship that is genuinely integral to the story (platonic or not). I've also seen people get into rarepairs of characters who barely interact or who just suffer little screen time, and I've seen them come to better understandings of those side characters and how they potentially fit into the world of the media simply because people are now focusing on these characters and how they fit into the narrative.

Frankly, I resent the idea that the only way to truly objectively analyze a piece of media is by turning off the part of your brain that gets excited over relationships and individual characters. Don't get me wrong, that is a way to approach a piece of media and a valid one at that, but the truth is that we cannot be free of bias.

For instance, I was watching House MD with my parents circa last year. At some point I started heavily tuning into what was going on with House and Wilson's relationship. My parents, on the other hand, were largely watching casually. They're not thinking of character relationships or getting heavily invested in most characters, they're watching because they like watching. One of them in particular did try to analyze things that were happening in the show as they happened. However, when it came to the scene late in the series where House threw out Dominika's letter approving her American citizenship, my parents could understand that he was doing that because he didn't want her to leave, but not much beyond that. I ended up explaining to them that House's fake marriage for Dominika was an explicit parallel to when Wilson was living with House in the early seasons. Both situations started with House being none too happy about it but ultimately letting them stay, spending a considerable amount of effort getting them to leave/getting this situation to be finally over so he didn't have to deal with it anymore, and then by the time a piece of news comes through that would mean the person in question actually leaves, House hides this news as long as he can. Because he doesn't actually want them to leave and has grown attached. And by doing this he became a self fulfilling prophecy. By reacting to the truth of Wilson and Dominika leaving him the way he does, he seals his fate and they ultimately leave anyways. Maybe I ship Hilson, but becoming open to how their relationship was handled allowed me to transition to doing character studies and recognizing patterns/parallels that I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't particularly care about the characters or their relationship.

Likewise, I've seen mutuals complain about how people who don't like or don't care about certain characters often overlook these characters (what they're actually like and their place in the narrative), while the mutuals in question (by default) are able to come to deeper understanding of what the writers/story is trying to do because they care about this funky guy

You can't eradicate bias when you're engaging in media analysis, but you can consciously put on a range of lenses and observe the media through different povs with the goal of understanding the media better or bolstering your reading of it. And those lenses/povs can include focusing on specific relationships or the perpective of certain characters

And this is why I say it's actually a mindset problem. Shippers and people who have this one blorbo they like a lot aren't inherently terrible "fandom brained individuals" who are the root of media analysis problems. The problem only arises when people's readings/analysis of a piece of media are inherently restrictive/narrow and self centered. Your problem is with people who view a piece of media through a ship they like but don't keep an open mind about it, and whose "media analysis"/views on canon cannot be split from fanon and their comfortability levels. These are the people whose "media analysis" starts and ends with justifying their fanon as canon, whose views on media revolve around sorting characters and relationships into categories they personally enjoy rather than trying to understand what's going on.

Here's another example.

Here we have a fictional ship we'll call uhhhh...Blanebin. this fictional ship I made up on the spot for characters that don't exist named Blane and Corbin

Person A is super into Blanebin. They're part of the main cast of characters and canonically childhood best friends, so person A (as much as they enjoy fanart and fic) is also enjoying analyzing how narratively important to each other they are. Recently, Corbin started dating another character in canon, but Person A is enjoying watching how Blane is reacting to this. "Is this potentially a tell that Blane is jealous or is having complicated feelings about this? What if he was, how would that contextualize his behavior this season? Here's what I think based on how Blane dealt with explicit jealousy last season in a different situation". It's not impossible that person A is still missing further understanding due to their obsession with Blanebin, but at the end of the day this obsession has allowed them to start picking through the characters both in and outside this relationship. It has allowed them to see potential subtext and theorize on what might happen next with these characters' relationship. Not to mention that with addition of Corbin dating someone else, instead of trying to erase this fact or state that Corbin canonically isn't into that person, Person A is trying to factor in how Corbin's current dating life affects his relationship with Blane (irregardless on personal views on the nature of Corbin's relationship with the person he's dating).

Person B is also super into Blanebin. They really enjoy fanart and fic of the characters, love obsessing over their moments together, and just feel like there's really something between the characters. To person B, every moment between them is just further proof that the writers are ship teasing them. But Corbin getting together with someone else this season? Oh that pissed person B off. They cannot believe that even though Corbin and Blane are CLEARLY gay for each other the writers had Corbin get with someone else this season. Perhaps, they think, it was even a decision specifically made to spite fans. How evil of the writers to tease a perfectly good ship and then have them not get together first? They must have been just doing those teases to get views from Blanebin shippers those scoundrels. To Person B, since Corbin started dating someone when he obviously has some chemistry with Blane (even though the series is far from over) means that Blanebin can never get together now and Corbin x person he's dating is ruining Blanebin by existing. In fact, they think, this is terrible writing for Corbin to be dating someone else because they don't like that relationship and don't see the point. Obviously if the writers were good then Corbin would have started dating Blane instead because this was supposed to be the Blanebin show.

Person C despises Blanebin. Don't get them wrong, they've always enjoyed the character's childhood friendship, but they actually have always thought Blane would have been better off with Victoria. They have a lot of moments too! But they're tired of seeing people ship Blanebin. Corbin just got together with someone else, so obviously that's not gonna work out. Plus Corbin and Blane totally has always given person C bro vibes. In fact, person C thinks, sure Corbin and Blane have a close friendship, but people shouldn't be shipping them. Person C likes Blanetoria and Blanetoria can't be canon if Corbin is in the way of it. So Person C likes to read Blanebin as siblings anyways. Sure they're canonically friends, but obviously their friendship turned into brotherhood. This means that nothing can be in the way of Blanetoria and Corbin can keep dating the person he's already canonically dating. Actually, now Blanebin just straight up makes Person C uncomfortable. Don't the pesky shippers understand that Blanebin are sibling coded because they're childhood best friends and that they're important to each other because they're brothers? It's obvious to anyone with eyes.

Sure, ships are involved here, but is the root of this problem shipping? Character A isn't as knowledgeable of other characters in the plot due to this lens they're using, but at the end of the day they're dedicated to analysis. Their love of the characters is pushing them beyond what they like or dislike to try to understand what might be happening through their lens. Not perfect, but they are slowly broadening their horizons. But Person B and C's problems here are their restrictiveness. What is or should be canon to them is tantamount to what they personally like or find comfortable. Is person C actually analyzing the this fake show when they decide to "read" Blanebin as basically canonically siblings (and this all of their moments are totally a bro thing) just because they don't like Blanebin and the idea of them getting together over Blanetoria makes them uncomfortable? Is person B actually analyzing this fake show when their "analysis" of Blanebin goes only as far as asserting it's being ship teased and deciding anything short of canonizing Blanebin is a targeted attack or "bad writing" because it's not what they wanted personally to happen?

This is what I'm talking about. This is the mindset. Shipping isn't the problem. The problem is when people marry fanon and canon to the point where they have a vested interest in superimposing their fanon over canon as "a reading" and trying to make "collective decisions" on what is canon (or what canon is trying to say) based on what does or doesn't make them uncomfortable. The problem is people being restrictive and centering their own likes and dislikes in the conversation, so they can only interact with canon "analysis" wise by deciding what is canon or should be canon "as obviously agreed on by everyone". You can't simply claim you like media analysis. To be able to analyze media and bolster your views on any given canon, you must be open to looking at it through multiple povs, to studying characters without trying to pretend things you don't like don't exist or do like do exist. There is a balance that must be kept between trying to keep objectivity and putting on specific focus/bias based upon the lenses you're putting on. You have to be willing to try to figure out what a media is doing or saying, not saying you're trying to figure out what it's saying while in actuality trying to define the narrative around what people believe it's saying in ways that suit you.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#fandom wank #on the flip side it really just doesn't all happen with shipping #doesn't this go the same way when someone hates a character so they brand them with terrible terms and act like they're terrible without #actually taking a second to analyze them simply because they dislike that character?#Hell I've seen people get really invested in platonic relationships on the fanon side‚ start labeling them as siblings because the idea of #people shipping them makes them uncomfortable‚ and then when new canon doesn't fulfill their hopes they still act like those characters #being siblings to each other is canon because it makes them uncomfortable if that's not true #I've seen people watch a trailer for a piece of media before it comes out‚ build up an entire story in their head based on that trailer #that they've designated as their perfect idea of how to handle concepts presented in the trailer‚ and then when canon doesn't end up going #that way they decide that it's bad writing simply on the grounds that this wasn't the story they wanted. so they unironically act like #writers can only be good writers if the writers play into their specific wants as the audience or things they as an audience member thinks #would be great #genuinely even if people turn off the ship side of their brain or the side that gets obsessed with characters they can still be one of those #people who acts like they love media analysis but ultimately are shit at it #I didn't put this in the body of the post cause it didn't really fit but I have to say this too #I think that 'There are multiple readings one can glean from a text and no reading is the 'true' one‚ and this is okay' and 'not every #reading is a valid one or a good one' are statements that can and should coexist #There is a difference between genuinely reading into a piece of media based on what is happening in it and purposely miscontruing and #twisting canon in a direction that contradicts text so you can then quell all criticism by saying that it's just 'a reading' and #'all readings are valid'#What I'm saying is that if you see a blue car‚ the way you get 'valid readings is people who are determining what shade of blue it is or #what it being a blue car means or the author's intent making the car blue or even speculation as to why it's blue and not potentially other #color. A case of an 'invalid reading' in this case is if someone pointed at the blue car‚ said it's canonically red and the author obviously #intended it to be red and it's canonically red‚ and then when people point out that the car is very much not canonically red (that you #can see it is a very clear shade of blue) this person doubled down and started saying that the 'haters' are being rude by implying that #their personal reading of the text is invalid (in other words 'no you can't get mad at me for saying the blue car is red because it's my #reading of the text and all readings are valid no matter what!')#anyways sorry for going off there #it just pisses me off when people repeat the argument that people who like certain things as fans are inherently unable to perform good #media analysis and are the root of fandom media illiteracy.

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