#forgot if I posted this one already so here you go :)

[hereforuconnwbb]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 2

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6.4k

warning: language, mention of injury

heres chap 2 guysss !!! im tryna follow the ideas u guys gave me, so im not 100% sure if its exactly what yall had in mind, but im gonna slowly build it up from here 🤞🏽 hopefully there’s no mistakes and it all makes sense cause i wrote the last bit of this chapter and read through this half asleep 😭 anywaysss hope u guys enjoy 🫶🏽

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It was still early, but the campus was already alive. The buzz of conversation, the shuffle of students walking to class, and the occasional skateboard rolling past made it feel like the world had hit play again. Paige stood by one of the low stone benches just outside the library, sunlight hitting her face while a gentle breeze played with the hem of her hoodie.

She was early, way too early, but she’d never admit she was nervous. Her phone was in her hand, thumbs scrolling through Instagram, even though she hadn’t really seen a single post. She kept checking her reflection in the dark screen anytime it dimmed. Hair was decent. Fit looked casual but intentional. Nothing screamed I’m trying, even though she absolutely was.

Calm down, she told herself for the twentieth time. It’s just tutoring. You need help. That’s all it is.

A group of students passed by laughing, and Paige looked up, spotting Caroline a few feet away walking with her coffee, headed her direction. She was with Aubrey, Ice, and KK all of them talking shit about something and laughing loudly. Paige already regretted her decision to come to this part of campus.

Caroline smirked the second she saw Paige. “So,” she said, greeting her with a little side hug. “You texted Azzi?”

Paige gave her a side-eye. “How do you already know that?”

“She told me last night,” Caroline said innocently, sipping her coffee.

Aubrey lit up. “Wait, wait, you messaged her? Already? Damn, that didn’t take long.”

KK raised her eyebrows. “What’s going on? Who’s Azzi?”

Caroline turned to her with a smile. “Azzi’s my best friend. She’s super smart. Paige needed help with some classes, so I suggested Azzi could tutor her.”

“And I said I was fine,” Paige muttered.

“And then you texted her anyway,” Aubrey said, grinning. “Knew you would. Couldn’t go under 24 hours without seeing her again.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige said under her breath, adjusting her bag strap to have something to do with her hands.

Ice laughed. “Hold on, is this the same Azzi girl that Aubrey said had you all flustered yesterday?”

Aubrey nodded proudly. “Yup. Paige met her once and forgot how to talk.”

“I didn’t forget how to—geez, will you all chill?”

KK leaned in toward Ice. “Now I really wanna see what this girl looks like.”

“You might get your chance,” Caroline said casually, checking her watch. “She’s got class with me in a few minutes. She’s probably walking up now.”

And almost on cue, a voice called out from behind them.

“Hey, Caroline!”

The group turned and spotted Azzi walking up to the group of girls, backpack slung over one shoulder, her braids swaying slightly as she walked. The sunlight caught on her hoops, and Paige went completely still.

Azzi looked laid-back and composed, like she hadn’t just unknowingly walked into a firing squad of nosy basketball girls. She gave Caroline a warm smile before her eyes moved naturally to Paige and paused. Her smile lingered, just a bit softer now.

“Hey, Paige,” she added.

Paige nodded quickly. “Hey.”

They made eye contact, and it was enough to set off another wave of chaos in Paige’s chest. She was hoping no one would notice, but of course, the girls clocked it instantly.

Ice nudged KK and whispered, “Yeah, I get it now.”

KK nodded slowly. “Mhm. She’s got that calm, pretty energy. No wonder Paige’s out here acting like a freshman with a crush.”

“Shut up,” Paige hissed through gritted teeth, though her ears were turning red.

Azzi looked toward the two new faces in the group, a little curious but she does recognise them. Caroline jumped in. “Azzi, this is KK and Ice our teammates. KK, Ice, this is Azzi.”

Azzi offered a polite smile. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You too,” KK said, still smirking. “Heard a lot about you.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t start.”

Aubrey was barely holding it together. “We didn’t even say anything yet,” she said, laughing. “But sure, Paige. We’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Liar,” Paige muttered.

Azzi glanced at her, still smiling, and Paige felt the air shift again so subtle, but it was there. That unspoken thing sitting between them that no one was addressing. Paige quickly looked away before her teammates could start up again.

“Welp, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Caroline said to the group. “Azzi and I have class.”

“Later,” Aubrey called as Caroline and Azzi started walking away. Aubrey turned towards Paige with a smirk so evil Paige felt it in her bones.

Paige groaned. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

“Oh, I’m saying everything,” Aubrey said gleefully. “The way you just shut down when she looked at you? Paige Bueckers, the ultimate rizzler herself, turned into a puppy.”

Ice laughed. “And she didn’t even do anything. She just said hi”

“Fuck off,” Paige muttered, but she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad. Not really. Because yeah, Azzi hadn’t done anything. And yet here Paige was, heart racing from a single look.

—-----------------------

Azzi settled into her usual seat beside Caroline in the lecture hall, her notebook already open, though the pen in her hand wasn’t moving. The lecture hadn’t even properly started yet, but even if it had, she knew she wouldn’t be paying attention right away.

Her thoughts kept wandering.

Specifically, to the text she’d gotten the night before. From Paige.

She hadn’t expected to actually hear from her, not after how Paige had brushed off the idea of tutoring like it was unnecessary, even laughable.

Azzi had stared at the message for a solid minute before replying.

Even now, she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it.

“Earth to Az” Caroline murmured, nudging her gently with her elbow. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. Thinking about someone?”

Azzi blinked and turned toward her, caught but trying to play it cool. “No. I mean—sort of. Just… thinking.”

Caroline’s smirk said she wasn’t buying it. “Thinking about how Paige Bueckers finally caved and texted you for tutoring?”

Azzi let out a soft sigh and shook her head. “I told you last night. I was just surprised she actually did it. She looked so confident yesterday like she was going to fake it till finals.”

“Well, she is confident,” Caroline said, half-amused, half-approving. “But academics? Paige only pretends she doesn’t care. Inside, she’s stressing big time when she’s behind. Girl’s too proud to admit it most of the time.”

Azzi tapped her pen against the edge of her notebook, thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t expect her to be the kind to reach out. Especially to someone she barely knows.”

“She knows who you are,” Caroline said, shooting her a look. “You’re the quiet one who actually takes notes and doesn’t worship the ground she walks on. That probably intrigued her.”

Azzi gave her a look. “I don’t worship anyone. I just… don’t care about basketball or any other sports.”

“Exactly,” Caroline grinned, tapping her nails against the desk. “That makes you different. Refreshing, even.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, unsure how to take that. “I don’t know. I just didn’t think I’d actually be tutoring her. It feels weird.”

Caroline turned more fully toward her, her expression softening. “Weird because you don’t know her, or weird because she was lowkey flustered around you?”

“I don’t think it was anything like that,” Azzi said slowly, trying to sound firmer than she felt. “She was probably just nervous about needing help. That’s all.”

Caroline tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Sure. That’s all.”

Azzi sighed. “I don’t even know her. Like, I’ve heard of her, obviously, but we’ve never talked until yesterday. And it was barely even a conversation.”

“You don’t need to know her to notice when someone’s acting different around you,” Caroline said, her tone a little more knowing now. “I’ve seen Paige with a lot of people. She’s got this… guard. But with you? She was definitely off her game.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but she was starting to feel the flutter of nerves deep in her chest. “You’re reading into this too much. I’m just going to help her study, that’s it.”

Caroline shrugged. “Alright, fine. Just tutoring. But don’t act surprised if she tries to flirt in her weird, awkward way.”

Azzi snorted, brushing her hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t even know me.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Caroline teased with a wink.

Azzi leaned back, glancing up at the slowly-filling lecture hall. “I’m not trying to get involved in anything messy. I’ll help her study. That’s it. No weirdness, no distractions.”

Caroline raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not saying you like her. I’m just saying… keep your eyes open. Paige Bueckers may be all cool and untouchable to the rest of the world, but around you? Something’s shifting.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away, letting the words hang between them as the professor started setting up slides at the front of the room.

She wasn’t crushing on Paige. She didn’t even really know her.

But there was something about the way Paige had looked at her outside, something a little tentative, a little unsteady, that stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit.

Azzi shook herself out of it and looked down at her notebook again, forcing her mind to focus on the lecture.

Just tutoring. That was all this was.

Right?

—-----------------------

It was 10 minutes to 3, and Paige was sitting stiffly on one of the benches just outside the library steps, her jacket zipped all the way up despite the mild afternoon warmth. She kept pulling at the zipper down halfway, back up, then down again like it was a dial for her anxiety. Her foot bounced restlessly, her fingers twitching every few seconds to check her phone, even though it hadn’t buzzed.

Aubrey was fully stretched out beside her, taking up way more space than necessary like this was a casual trip to the beach instead of her best friend’s slow descent into chaos. One arm was draped over the back of the bench, the other cradling a half-empty iced coffee that had long since lost its chill. She watched Paige out of the corner of her eye with a grin that kept creeping up every time Paige adjusted something for the hundredth time.

“You know,” Aubrey drawled, lifting her cup to her lips, “if I had a dollar for every time you checked your reflection in your phone screen, I’d be rich enough to drop out and live off vibes alone.”

Paige didn’t even look at her. “I was fixing my hair.”

“That the same ‘fix’ you did 3 minutes ago? Or the one right after you dabbed your hoodie with water to flatten that invisible wrinkle?”

Paige groaned and let her head fall back against the bench. “Why are you even here?”

“Entertainment. I live for this.” Aubrey shifted slightly, crossing one leg over the other. “Besides, watching you spiral over a girl you met yesterday is 10 times more fun than whatever I was gonna do with my afternoon.”

Paige turned her head slowly to give her the most deadpan look imaginable.

Aubrey beamed back. “Seriously though, you’re killing me. You’ve checked your lip balm, like, four times. What’s the difference between ‘subtle shimmer’ and ‘barely there glow’? They’re the same.”

“They are not the same,” Paige snapped, immediately regretting how fast she said it.

Aubrey’s laugh rang out loud enough to make a student walking by turn their head. “You hear yourself right now?”

Paige pulled the hood over her head and groaned into it. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You just hate that I’m right.”

There was a moment of silence as Paige exhaled slowly, pulling the hood back off and sitting upright again. Her knee was bouncing now, the nerves nowhere near subtle.

“I just… I don’t know,” she mumbled, eyes flicking toward the library entrance. “She’s really…”

Aubrey perked up. “She’s really what?”

Paige shook her head quickly. “Forget it.”

“Nooo, no, no. Don’t back out now. Say it. I need this.”

Paige sighed and looked out across the quad like the grass was gonna give her strength. Her voice dropped just above a whisper. “She’s really pretty.”

Aubrey clutched her chest like she’d been waiting her whole life to hear it. “There it is!”

Paige frowned, eyes still ahead. “And seems smart. Like, scary smart. But not in a loud way. In a ‘makes you feel dumb without even trying’ kind of way.”

Aubrey raised her brows, clearly loving this. “Damn. You’re gone.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, folding her arms.

“I’m just observing. You’ve had a crush for a solid twenty-four hours and you’re acting like it’s prom night.”

“She’s tutoring me. That’s it.”

“Mhmmmm. You mean she’s ‘tutoring you’ and you’re ‘definitely not falling apart at the seams’ while trying to remember what two plus two is when she looks at you?”

Paige glared. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re in denial.”

“I’m gonna throw your coffee across the quad.”

“I’ll buy another one. Worth it.”

Paige groaned again, running her hand through her hair. “God, what am I even doing? I’m acting like a middle schooler.”

“You’re acting like a college student with a gay panic problem,” Aubrey said with a shrug. “It’s fine. It’s cute. Just maybe stop adjusting your jacket every time someone walks by or they’re gonna think you’re shoplifting nerves.”

Paige looked down at herself and huffed, trying to smooth it down one more time before stopping mid-motion, catching herself. “Damn it.”

“See?” Aubrey grinned, nudging her. “You’re spiraling. It’s kinda adorable.”

Right then, Paige’s phone buzzed. She yanked it out like it was on fire.

2:57pm

Her breath hitched. She shot a glance at the entrance.

A flash of dark curls pulled into a ponytail appeared just inside the glass doors of the library.

“Oh shit,” Paige whispered, standing up too fast. She quickly brushed invisible dust off her sweatpants, glanced down at her sneakers, frowned at a smudge, then looked back up.

Aubrey watched with a lazy smirk. “You good?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know,” Paige muttered. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to fail basic math but win the gold in gay panic.”

“Okay, seriously. Stop talking.”

“I’m done,” Aubrey said, hands up in mock surrender. “Go learn some equations and maybe flirt like a human person while you’re at it.”

Paige took a deep breath, wiped her hands on her pants, then started walking toward the library steps.

Aubrey called out one last time, “And maybe try not to stare at her!”

Paige didn’t even turn around. She just lifted her hand behind her and gave Aubrey the finger as she reached the door.

Her heart was pounding. Her palms were a little clammy. But she was walking.

Paige let out one last breath.

The second Paige stepped through the library doors, it felt like her shoes were too loud. Like every step echoed through the entire building even though the carpet was doing its best to muffle them. She tugged her hoodie sleeve down over her palm, eyes sweeping over the rows of tables until she found her.

Azzi was near the far corner, by the window. The sunlight filtered through the glass, catching the edge of her curls and lighting up the gold tones like some kinda magic effect from a movie. She had a pencil in hand, lightly tapping the eraser against the page, her other hand flipping through a worn notebook covered in neat little tabs. She looked focused. Comfortable.

Paige was very much neither of those things.

She hovered for a second, literally just stood there, trying to remember how walking worked before finally forcing her legs to move. Her palms were sweaty again. Her backpack felt too heavy. She hoped her hair wasn’t doing anything weird.

Azzi looked up right as Paige reached the table. “Hey,” she said, a casual, soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Paige’s brain glitched for a second. “Hey,” she said, and it came out a little too fast.

Azzi closed the notebook and motioned to the chair across from her. “You’re on time.”

“I’m always on time,” Paige said, slipping into the seat like her limbs were made of static. She regretted the joke immediately. “I mean, usually. Sometimes. Not like always always, but—”

Azzi raised a brow, amused. “You’re good. I’m just saying I expected a minute or two buffer.”

Paige laughed nervously and tugged at the sleeves of her hoodie again. “Yeah, no. I was already out here. Early. Just, you know… prepping.”

Azzi gave her a look like she was trying not to smile. “Prepping to be tutored?”

“Exactly.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath and opened a different notebook, one already half-filled with notes. “Ok. So I looked over the syllabus and the last few slides from class. Want to start with the stuff from earlier in the week?”

“Please,” Paige said, dragging out the word like it physically pained her. “That whole section might as well have been written in some foreign language.”

“Alright,” Azzi said, flipping to the page. “We’re still on systems of equations and matrix transformations. Did you get the basics?”

Paige hesitated. “Define basics.”

Azzi didn’t even blink. “Like… what a matrix is?”

“…Is that the Keanu Reeves one or the number box one?”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, let’s start with the number box one.”

She turned the notebook around and slid it across the table so Paige could see. Her handwriting was crazy clean. Paige immediately noticed how she circled everything in soft, pastel highlighters—blue for definitions, pink for formulas, green for notes. It was weirdly calming to look at.

“So this,” Azzi said, tapping the first example, “is a 2x2 matrix. Two rows, two columns. Easy enough?”

Paige leaned in a little, squinting at the page like it might bite her. “Yeah. I think I remember this part.”

Azzi looked up. “You’re allowed to say you don’t. No judgment.”

“I mean, I kind of remember it. It’s more like it shows up and I recognize the face, but I don’t remember the name.”

Azzi laughed again, light and genuine. “Alright, we’ll reintroduce you.”

She walked Paige through the basics, what each position meant, how they worked when you multiplied them, the reason why flipping them could screw everything up. Paige nodded, trying to focus on the numbers, the shapes, anything that wasn’t Azzi’s voice being low and patient or the way her curls bounced when she looked down to write something.

At some point, Azzi switched to a blank page and turned the notebook so Paige could try a problem herself. She watched closely as Paige worked through it slowly, brow furrowed, tongue slightly poking out the corner of her mouth.

“You’re overthinking it,” Azzi said, voice soft. “Just take it one step at a time.”

Paige huffed and leaned back, pencil pressed between her palms. “One step at a time is how I ended up failing that quiz.”

“True,” Azzi said, grinning. “But now you’ve got me. Upgrades.”

That earned a real smile out of Paige. “Yeah. This is definitely better.”

Azzi looked at her for a second, then tapped the page. “You’re actually not far off. You just missed one sign. Wanna try again?”

Paige nodded, gaze flicking back down to the numbers.

She could do this.

Well… she could try.

And maybe, just maybe if she didn’t totally embarrass herself, there’d be more study sessions like this. Not that she was hoping for anything.

—-----------------------

The soft hum of the library was like a low lullaby, comforting in its quiet, yet full of the sort of focused energy only a place of learning could have. Books, notebooks, and pens were strewn across the table between them, yet all Paige could focus on was Azzi.

Azzi was reading the textbook aloud softly, walking her through another set of equations. Her voice was calm, steady, yet there was an underlying intensity in the way she spoke, like she genuinely wanted Paige to understand. Every now and then, Azzi would pause and ask if Paige was following, looking at her over the top of her glasses, and Paige would just nod though most of the time, her attention wasn’t entirely on the lesson.

She caught herself again, staring. Azzi’s hair was pulled back into a loose bun, a few strands framing her face, and those glasses—those damn glasses. Paige had to fight the urge to look away every time Azzi adjusted them, because the way they sat on her face, giving her an effortlessly smart, put-together look, made Paige’s stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t quite figured out.

Azzi wasn’t even trying to impress anyone. She was just sitting there, leaning over the textbook, completely engrossed in helping Paige. Her calm demeanor was almost too much for Paige to handle sometimes like the sort of quiet confidence that was magnetic.

She caught herself again, looking at Azzi’s profile as she read. The way her lips moved as she pronounced the words, her fingers subtly tapping on the page as she went through the steps in the problem.

“Paige?” Azzi asked, her voice snapping Paige out of her daze. “You still with me?”

Paige blinked and tried to clear the fog in her head. “Yeah, sorry,” she said, focusing on the math in front of her. She quickly scribbled a few numbers down, even though she was far more focused on the way Azzi was looking at her now, brows furrowed in concern.

“I said we can move on to the next problem if you’re ready,” Azzi added, voice softer now.

“Yeah, I think I got this one,” Paige lied, her words more rushed than she intended. She was trying her best to concentrate, but the math seemed to fade into the background as she found herself distracted by the soft rhythm of Azzi’s voice and the quiet rustling of pages. The way Azzi’s fingers traced the lines of the book as she found the right spot. The way her eyes would flicker from the textbook to Paige every few seconds to check in on her, making sure she was following along. It was like everything Azzi did was just too perfect, too natural, and it made Paige feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Do you want me to slow down? I know this part can be tricky,” Azzi offered, her eyes searching Paige’s face for any sign of confusion.

But the truth was, Paige wasn’t confused about the math at all, she was distracted by Azzi’s presence, her calmness, the way her voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She gave a small shake of her head. “No, I’m good,” she said, though her voice came out quieter than she intended.

Azzi nodded, returning her attention to the problem at hand. She explained the next step slowly and clearly, but Paige’s mind wasn’t really processing it. Instead, she was watching the way Azzi’s lips moved as she spoke, the way her fingers tapped the paper, the way her glasses slightly slid down her nose as she read the equations. Paige couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool Azzi seemed. She looked so unbothered, so calm in her own skin, and it was something Paige both envied and admired.

The longer they sat there, the more the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken things. Paige could almost feel the weight of the silence, but not in an uncomfortable way, in a way that made her want to lean forward, ask Azzi about her life, about everything that made her the person she was. And yet, every time she tried to get her words together, her thoughts scattered like smoke in the wind.

“Paige, are you sure you’re following?” Azzi asked again, this time with a small frown forming between her brows. She wasn’t accusing or frustrated; just genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige quickly said, shaking her head as if to clear the distraction. She forced herself to focus, finally pulling her eyes from Azzi’s face and onto the equation in front of her. “I think I get it now. Thanks for being patient.”

Azzi smiled softly. “No problem. You’re doing great, really. You just need to take a breath every now and then. You’re trying too hard.”

Paige bit her lip, trying to suppress the chuckle that almost slipped out. “Trying too hard?” she repeated, her voice teasing. “I’m not trying hard enough for this?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, her eyes softening as she leaned back in her chair. “Well, maybe you should try a little harder. You’re already getting the hang of it.”

Paige felt a little flame of pride in her chest at Azzi’s praise, but at the same time, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being drawn to the way Azzi sat there, calm and composed, like she had everything under control. And Paige was… well, a mess of emotions she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

She forced herself to focus back on the book, willing her mind to follow the equations instead of her thoughts, but it was getting harder with each passing second. She glanced back at Azzi, who was quietly writing out steps on the page. Azzi’s head was tilted slightly, a sign of concentration. And it hit Paige then how deeply she was starting to care for this girl. How much more than just math sessions she was starting to crave.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” Paige said finally, trying to focus back in, her voice steadying now.

Azzi looked up and nodded, smiling again. “Good. See? You’re getting it.” She paused, and for a moment, Paige thought she saw a flicker of something in Azzi’s eyes—something warm and unspoken. But then it was gone, hidden behind the coolness of her usual composure.

Paige nodded, forcing her eyes to stay on the page, though her thoughts felt like they were running a mile a minute.

“Alright, let’s take a short break before we do the next one,” Azzi suggested. “You’ve been at this for a while now.”

Paige didn’t protest. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and let herself relax for a moment, her gaze slipping to Azzi again, just long enough to catch her watching her with that same quiet focus. That same soft intensity that made Paige’s heart flutter in a way she wasn’t used to.

Paige didn’t mean to do it—didn’t mean to let the curiosity slip out, but the words came before she could stop them.

“So, uh, what made you agree to tutor me?” Paige asked, her voice softer than usual, as if she was treading into unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but something about Azzi seemed different. Quiet. Like there was so much more beneath the surface.

Azzi paused, her hand hovering over her bag, and then looked up at Paige. For a brief moment, there was that same familiar flicker of something behind her calm demeanor, but Azzi quickly masked it with her usual composed smile.

“I dunno,” Azzi said after a beat, voice casual, “You seemed like you needed help. And I guess I’m a sucker for helping people out, especially if they’re willing to put in the work. You seem like you actually care about getting it right.”

Paige nodded, appreciating the honesty in Azzi’s voice. “I do. I just… get distracted sometimes.” She chuckled softly, but the sound felt more nervous than anything.

Azzi smiled again, a little warmer this time. “Yeah, I noticed.” She shrugged slightly, picking up her notebook and tucking it into her bag. “I like helping people. I used to tutor a lot when I was in high school. It just feels good, you know?”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “What else? You seem like you’ve got other stuff going on. What do you do for fun when you’re not helping people like me?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, clearly considering whether to answer. Paige almost regretted asking, but then Azzi sighed, almost reluctantly.

“Well, it’s a bit of a random fact, but I used to play basketball. Like, competitively.” Azzi glanced up at Paige, her eyes not quite meeting hers. She continued quietly, “I stopped playing a few years ago. Tore my ACL in a game, but that’s not the reason I quit. I just… lost the love for it, I guess.”

Paige blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected that. Azzi, with her calm confidence, so different from the athletes Paige was used to, didn't seem like the type who would’ve played a sport like basketball. “You played? For how long?”

Azzi shrugged, her fingers tapping against the desk idly. “Since I was a kid. But by the time I hit high school, I wasn’t really feeling it anymore. It wasn’t about the injury. I could’ve come back after the rehab. But after a while, I just realized it wasn’t my thing anymore.” She paused for a moment, eyes flickering to Paige, then away again. “I guess I was just… over it.”

Paige couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at her lips. She knew how much basketball meant to her. The idea of walking away from it, losing that love—she couldn’t imagine it. “So, what did you end up doing after that?”

Azzi gave a small smile, almost wistful. “I got more into school. Focused on things I could control, you know? It’s where I found my rhythm again.”

It was almost like she was shutting that chapter down, not wanting to revisit it. But Paige didn’t press further. It was clear that basketball, once a major part of Azzi’s life, had faded into something she didn’t want to talk about too much.

“Sounds like you figured things out,” Paige said softly, leaning back in her chair, watching Azzi carefully. “I respect that.”

Azzi finally met Paige’s gaze, her expression softening a little. “Yeah, well… I guess everyone finds their own way eventually.” She gave a slight shrug, as if brushing the conversation aside, before turning her focus back to the textbook in front of them. “We should get back to it. I think we’re almost done with this chapter.”

Paige hesitated for a moment, a thousand questions swirling in her head, but she could tell Azzi wasn’t quite ready to share more. And for now, Paige was okay with that. She’d already learned something important—that Azzi was much more than the quiet, composed classmate/tutor sitting across from her. There was depth to her, layers that Paige would have to be patient to peel back.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Paige finally said, refocusing on the math in front of her. “Let’s finish this up.”

As Azzi started explaining the next set of equations, Paige felt a little more settled. They were getting somewhere, and for the first time, Paige wasn’t just focused on the math in front of her. She was focused on Azzi, her presence, the way she spoke, the little things she hadn’t noticed before. It wasn’t just about the lesson anymore. It was about being with Azzi, understanding her in ways that went far beyond equations and textbooks.

—-----------------------

They finished the last practice question with a shared sigh of relief. Azzi leaned over, checking Paige’s final answer with a quick glance, then nodded in approval.

“Yep. You got it.”

Paige blinked down at the scribbled page. “Wait… I did?”

Azzi chuckled, a genuine laugh that made Paige’s chest feel weirdly warm. “You’re improving. You just need to stop second-guessing yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” Paige muttered, setting her pencil down and rubbing at her temple. “But I’ll take the dub.”

Azzi started to neatly organize  everything back into her bag. “I think that’s enough math for one day.”

“Agreed,” Paige said, stretching again. “My brain’s officially fried.”

Just as she grabbed her water bottle and leaned back in her chair, a voice cut through the quiet hum of the library.

“Yo, Azzi.”

Paige looked up and instantly regretted it.

Strutting toward them like he owned the place was Jace McCallister—tight end on the UConn football team, cocky smirk permanently etched on his face, confidence dripping off him like cologne. Paige knew him. Everyone did. He was loud, flashy, and flirted like it was a full-time job. The kind of guy who wore his jersey to class and thought everyone should thank him for showing up.

Azzi glanced up, face unreadable. “Hey.”

Jace leaned casually against the edge of their table, not even glancing at Paige. “Just wondering when our next session is? You free this week?”

Paige’s brows knit. Our session?

Azzi nodded politely, unfazed. “Yeah, I think tomorrow. Same time?”

“Perfect.” He flashed her a grin. “Can’t say no to learning from the smartest girl on campus.”

Azzi’s lips pulled into a tight, polite smile. “Well thank you.”

Jace chuckled and finally glanced at Paige, as if just noticing her. “Oh. Hey, Bueckers.”

“McCallister,” Paige replied, voice flat.

He raised a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a tutor too.”

“She doesn’t,” Azzi cut in smoothly before Paige could answer, her tone calm but firm. “We’re just going over some extra stuff.”

Paige didn’t say anything. She just watched the exchange, something unsettled building in her chest. She knew Jace. Knew his reputation. And the way he was looking at Azzi now, like she was the next thing to win over, made her stomach twist.

She shouldn’t care. It was just tutoring.

But still.

Jace winked, then tapped the table. “Catch you later, Azzi.” He turned and walked off, not a single ounce of subtlety in his swagger.

Paige stared after him, jaw tight.

“Ugh,” she muttered under her breath.

Azzi looked over. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Paige said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… don’t like that guy.”

Azzi tilted her head, curious. “Why not?”

“He’s a walking ego,” Paige said, grabbing her stuff. “And he’s a player. Like, in every sense of the word. He’s not exactly subtle about who he hits on.”

Azzi didn’t say anything right away. Just zipped her bag and stood up. “He’s harmless.”

“Sure,” Paige muttered, a little sharper than she meant to. “Just be careful, okay?”

Azzi blinked, surprised at the tone. Paige ran a hand through her hair, sighing.

“Sorry. That came out weird. Just forget it.”

Azzi gave her a long look, something unreadable in her eyes. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in silence toward the library exit, Paige internally screaming at herself. ‘It’s not that deep. She’s not yours. You’re literally just studying.’ But no matter how many times she told herself that, her clenched jaw said otherwise.

As they stepped out into the afternoon sun, a small group of girls standing near the library steps caught sight of them—specifically Paige.

“Oh my god, that’s Paige Bueckers,” one of them whispered, eyes wide.

Before she could even react, one of them stepped forward, all smiles and nervous energy. “Hi! Sorry, we don’t wanna bother you, but could we maybe get a picture? We’re huge fans.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard but immediately smiled.

“Of course,” she said, already stepping toward them, voice warm and friendly. “What’s your name?”

One of them nearly melted. “I’m Sam. This is Ava and Kayla.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Paige said, handing her phone to one of them after snapping a few selfies together. “You guys coming to the game on friday?”

“Yeah! We can’t wait! Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Paige said sincerely. “I’ll try to put on a show for y’all.”

They grinned, waved, and scurried off giggling, still whispering to each other as they walked away.

Azzi stood a few feet back, arms loosely crossed. Watching.

Paige turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Azzi shook her head slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“Didn’t expect what?”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “You being… like that. With people.”

Paige tilted her head. “Like what?”

Azzi gave her a soft shrug. “I guess I thought you’d be more… I dunno. Big-time athlete energy. Standoffish. You’re not.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, amused. “So you thought I’d be a bitch?”

Azzi smiled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it, though.”

Azzi’s smile widened just slightly. “Maybe. A little.”

Paige laughed. “Damn. That’s cold.”

Azzi’s gaze lingered on her, more thoughtful now. “You surprise me. In a good way.”

And Paige couldn’t help the flutter in her chest as they started walking again, side by side.

They walked in silence again for a bit, the quiet not uncomfortable—just filled with a weird hum Paige couldn’t place. It clung to her like static, buzzing beneath her skin every time she glanced over and saw Azzi walking next to her, face calm, unreadable as always.

When they reached the small fork in the path outside the library, Azzi finally slowed to a stop.

“This is me,” she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

Paige stopped too, a little slower. “Right. Yeah.”

Azzi looked up at her. “That wasn’t too painful, was it?”

Paige snorted. “I mean… there were a few moments where I considered setting my notebook on fire.”

Azzi smiled. “But you didn’t.”

“Thanks to you.”

There was a beat of quiet. Paige swallowed and scratched at the back of her neck. “So… when do you wanna do this again?”

Azzi tilted her head, thinking. “I’m free Thursday evening. If that works?”

Paige nodded too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Azzi gave her a small nod. “Okay. I’ll text you.”

“Cool,” Paige said, trying not to sound weird. “Coolcoolcool.”

Azzi’s brows lifted just slightly. Paige looked down at the ground, internally facepalming.

Azzi smiled again, more to herself this time. “You’re kind of strange.”

Paige looked up. “Rude.”

Azzi started walking backwards slowly, smirking. “But I mean that in a good way.”

Paige watched her go, lips twitching. “Sure you do.”

Azzi turned around and gave a small wave over her shoulder. “Later, Paige.”

Paige stood there for a second too long after she was gone, staring at nothing in particular. Then she finally exhaled, rubbed her hands over her face, and mumbled under her breath.

“Fuck.”

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

[wingedhallows]

— THE PAST SHOULD STAY THE PAST —

CHAPTER FOUR

— ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING vi!basketball jockey x reader!ballerina ; 3.3k words — ₊˚⊹♡ SYNOPSIS There was something there—something unspoken, something undeniable. But in one careless moment, it all fell apart. Words were said, pride got in the way, and now she’s left with nothing but regret. She wants to fix it. She has to. Now, Vi is determined to fix what she broke. She’ll do anything—everything—to prove she didn’t mean it. But pride is a stubborn thing, and second chances don’t come easy. Can she turn the tide before it’s too late? Or has she already lost what she never had the courage to claim? — ₊˚⊹♡ AUTHORS NOTE hey babes! i totally forgot to post this so here you go, love u

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The door creaks open, breaking the cozy silence of your dorm. Margot’s voice follows a second later, lazy and curious. “Okay, what’s up with you?”

She strolls in, clearly way later than she promised—probably off with Ellie again, but you don’t even care.

You’re perched on your bed, legs curled up beneath you, cheeks flushed pink and practically glowing under the warm lamplight. Phone clutched to your chest like a secret.

Margot pauses mid-step, her brows lifting as she takes you in. “Why do you look like you just got proposed to?”

You don’t answer right away, just let out a little breathless giggle as your heart does another wild somersault.

She tosses her bag onto her desk chair, clearly sensing something's up. But before she can press, you burst—literally squeak, “She kissed me!”

Margot yelps at the sudden outburst, hands flying up like you just threw something at her. “Jesus! Warn me next time!”

You’re already off the bed, springing forward to grab her arms with both hands, practically bouncing.

“Who kissed you?” she demands, eyes wide, head tilted, trying not to smile too hard.

“Vi! Violet Lane fucking kissed me!” you squeal, and it’s like the words are helium—they lift you right off your feet.

Margot just stares for a second, blinking. Then she lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “Vi kissed you?”

You nod so hard your hair bounces, a dreamy sigh escaping your lips as you fall back onto the bed like a heroine in a romance movie. “She was so gentle... and her hands were like—ugh—and Christ, the way she kissed me…” You trail off, absolutely dazed.

Margot presses a hand to her mouth, doing her best not to laugh, but failing spectacularly. It’s not mockery—it’s fond, the kind of amusement only best friends get away with.

“I cannot believe Violet Lane kissed you,” she says, voice full of wonder and something teasing beneath it. “You’ve been mooning over her for months. And now look at you. Tragic no more.”

You just grin, wide and blissful. “I think I’m in actual love.”

And for once, Margot doesn’t make a joke. She just smiles. Because maybe—you are.

Vi is losing her damn mind.

Out on the porch, hunched over on the top step, a cigarette burns between her fingers—half smoked, forgotten.

She doesn't even like cigarettes. Hates the taste, hates the smell. But right now, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.

Her knee bounces restlessly. Her fingers twitch.

The night air is cool against her overheated skin, but it’s not enough to ground her. Her mind is a relentless reel of you—your voice in her ears, the look in your eyes, the way your lips felt on hers.

God.

She swears her boxers are still soaked just from that kiss. It wasn’t even dirty—it was barely anything—and yet it hit her like a punch to the chest. Like a car crash in slow motion.

The screen door creaks open behind her, and then Abby drops down onto the step beside her with all the grace of a bowling ball.

She’s got a beer in one hand and, without even asking, plucks a cigarette from Vi’s pack with the other.

“Damn. You sick or something?” she mutters around the filter as she lights it, one brow arched as she eyes Vi sideways.

Vi doesn’t look at her. Her gaze is fixed out at the street, on nothing in particular—just trying to get her head to stop spinning.

“I kissed her,” she says, quiet.

Abby pauses mid-light. She stares at Vi, then lets out a long, low whistle as the lighter flicks out.

“No fucking way,” she says, loud enough Vi’s sure the whole neighborhood just heard.

“You kissed her? Vi, holy shit! Finally!”

Vi flinches like the words physically hit her, dragging a hand down her face with a groan. “Jesus, keep your voice down.”

Abby ignores that completely, her grin stretching wide across her face like a damn cartoon villain.

“How was it? How’s she taste?” she says, nudging Vi’s arm like they're in a locker room talking stats.

Vi shoots her a look like she’s just chugged bong water.

“You dog,” she mutters, face twisted in mock disgust.

Abby just howls with laughter, clapping her on the back like she just won the championship. “Nah, don’t give me that. You’ve been walking around all broody and lovesick for months. I’m just proud of you, dude.”

Vi shakes her head, finally letting a laugh slip through. It’s hoarse, like it caught in her throat on the way out.

“I don’t even know what happened,” she admits, staring at the glowing end of her cigarette. “One second we were just talking, and then... I kissed her. And she kissed me back.”

There’s a beat of quiet. The kind of quiet that feels heavy with something unsaid.

“You’re fucked,” Abby says, but there’s no judgment in it—just honesty, plain and simple.

Vi exhales smoke like a confession. “Yeah,” she says. “I really am.”

“This is the first time you’ve actually been excited for a party,” Margot teases, laughter in her voice as she tugs you up the long driveway.

Her grip is tight on your wrist, boots crunching over gravel, while Flint strolls just a few steps behind—hands in his pockets, looking like nothing ever rattles him.

You flash Margot a grin so wide it almost hurts. “Because Vi’ll be here,” you say, practically glowing at just the thought.

The house is already pulsing with bass and bodies by the time you step onto the porch.

The scent of beer, sweat, cheap cologne, and something undeniably close to weed hits your nose all at once, thick and dizzying in the warm night air.

Margot elbows her way through the crowd like a seasoned pro, dragging you along behind her while Flint follows, grinning at the chaos.

But your eyes are already scanning the crush of people inside—past the tangled limbs, solo cups, and multicolored lights. Searching. Hoping. And then—

You see her.

Vi.

Pink hair half-up, cheeks flushed, smile wide and reckless as she pushes through the crowd like she owns the place.

And maybe she does—the way people part for her, the way her gaze lands right on you like it’s the only thing she’s been looking for all night.

Your heart goes off, a deep, pounding thunder that rattles your ribs.

And then she’s in front of you, grabbing your hand without a word, tugging you gently—no, claiming you right out of Margot’s grasp.

“Hey, pretty,” she murmurs, voice low and warm as she leans in close. Her breath ghosts over your ear, and then—quick as a heartbeat—she presses a kiss to your cheek.

She’s definitely drunk. You can taste it on the air between you—beer and something sweet, maybe cinnamon gum—but she’s steady enough, her grip sure as she leads you through the crowd like she’s bringing you home.

You follow without hesitation, cheeks hot and grinning so hard your face might crack.

Vi sinks into the couch with a sigh, all loose limbs and tipsy confidence, dragging you down beside her like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her arm drapes lazily behind you—not quite around you, but close enough that her fingers brush your shoulder, testing the waters.

You’re hyper-aware of her warmth, the way her thigh presses against yours, the soft scent of sweat and beer and something undeniably Vi clinging to her skin.

“You look really...” she trails off, eyes squinting like she’s trying to land the right word. “Like... woah.”

You laugh, tipping your head toward her. “That’s not a word.”

“It is now,” she insists, grinning crookedly. “You’re... woah.”

Before you can say anything back, Abby throws herself down onto the couch next to Flint, legs sprawled, drink sloshing slightly in her cup.

“Ohhh no,” she says, eyes locked on Vi with a devilish smirk. “She’s officially in the heart-eyes stage.”

“Hey, shut up,” Vi mutters, though she doesn’t exactly deny it.

Ellie plops dramatically into Margot’s lap on the armchair across from you, sing-songing, “Vi’s got a crush, Vi’s got a crush—”

“I will tackle you,” Vi warns, but she’s still smiling, cheeks a little pink as she turns her attention back to you. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Oh, I’m listening,” you say, smiling into your cup.

Margot shakes her head fondly, fingers playing with Ellie’s hoodie strings. “I’ve never seen her this soft. It’s almost scary.”

“You shut up too,” Vi says, nudging your knee with hers. “Y’all act like I’m proposing or something.”

Ellie gasps with mock excitement. “Is this a public confession? Should we clear the room?”

“Ellie.” Vi gives her the most tired look she can manage, though her mouth is twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. She leans in a little closer to you, quieter now.

“You wanna get outta here for a sec? Just—air. Less noise. Fewer idiots.”

“Rude,” Abby says, raising her cup in mock offense.

But you’re already nodding, heart thudding as Vi stands and offers you her hand.

You take it.

The couch groans as you rise, the laughter fading behind you, and Vi tugs you gently toward the sliding door—just the two of you again, leaving the teasing and chaos behind.

The sliding door clicks shut behind you, muffling the party into a low, distant hum.

Out here, the air is cooler—crisp against your skin, thick with the scent of night and grass and cheap beer spilled on the porch.

Vi doesn’t say anything at first. She just walks a few steps into the yard, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket, head tilted up like she’s looking for answers in the sky. Her breath fogs faintly in the air.

You follow, arms crossed for warmth, heart drumming way too fast for how slow everything feels.

Finally, Vi turns, and there’s something different in her eyes now. Not the usual confidence. Not even her drunk, cocky grin. Just this soft, raw honesty that makes your chest go tight.

“I, uh...” she starts, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t usually do this. Like, the whole... feelings thing.”

You smile gently. “Yeah, I got that vibe.”

She huffs out a laugh, ducking her head, her cheeks flushed and not just from the beer.

“But I kissed you. And I keep thinking about it, and now you’re here and I’m just—fuck, I’m nervous.”

You blink. “You’re nervous?”

Vi nods, biting her bottom lip. “I know I’m not... the best at showing stuff. Or saying the right thing. But when I’m around you, I—I feel like maybe I don’t have to fake it, y’know?”

You step closer, heart fluttering. “I like you, Vi.”

The words come out small but clear. You’re not even sure when you decided to say them. Maybe the moment she looked at you like you hung the stars. Maybe long before that.

Vi looks at you like she’s waiting for the ground to open up and swallow her. But then she smiles—slow and crooked and so her. “I like you too. A lot. And it’s kinda terrifying.”

You both laugh, a little breathless.

There's a pause, charged and uncertain. Then Vi steps forward, close enough that her jacket brushes your arm. Her hand hovers near yours, fingers twitching—like she wants to touch you but doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Can I—?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod. “Please.”

And then she kisses you.

It’s hesitant, soft at first—like she’s scared of getting it wrong. Her lips are warm and slightly chapped, and her hand comes up to cradle your jaw, just barely trembling. You lean into it, into her, the rest of the world fading away with the thud of your heartbeat in your ears.

It’s not perfect. Your noses bump, and you both giggle mid-kiss, but it just makes it better—realer. Her forehead rests against yours when you break apart, both of you slightly dazed and smiling like idiots.

“Okay,” she murmurs, breathless. “So... that was really nice.”

“Yeah,” you whisper back, your fingers still laced with hers. “It was.”

Neither of you say anything for a while. Just standing there in the quiet, swaying slightly, like the world slowed down just for this.

“Should we go back in?” you ask, finally.

Vi shrugs. “Eventually.”

You rest your head on her shoulder, and she wraps an arm around your waist without hesitation.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” she says softly, and this time, there’s no teasing in it. Just truth.

“So am I.”

Eventually, you murmur something about needing the bathroom and give Vi’s hand a quick squeeze before slipping back inside the house. She watches you go with this dazed little smile, like she still can’t believe you’re real.

The sliding door clicks shut again, and the quiet wraps around Vi like a blanket. For a moment, she just stands there—head tipped back, grinning like a complete fool.

That is, until she hears the sharp clack of heels behind her.

“Cute,” a voice cuts in, sugar-laced with venom. “Didn’t know you had a thing for ballet slippers now.”

Vi tenses before she turns. Caitlyn.

Hair glossy, ponytail too perfect to be real, wearing that smug little smirk like it’s part of her uniform. Cheer captain to a fault—and her ex, whether she liked it or not.

Vi’s jaw tightens. “What do you want, Cait?”

Caitlyn crosses her arms, manicured nails tapping against her elbow. “Just came to see if the rumors were true. You and her?”

Vi shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah. Me and her.”

Caitlyn raises a brow. “You seriously downgraded.”

Vi’s laugh is dry, humorless. “Nah. I upgraded. You just never liked the idea of not being the center of everything.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flash. “You didn’t mind when you were wrapped around my finger.”

Vi steps forward, close enough that her shadow cuts across Caitlyn’s flawless makeup. “You’re confusing me with someone who still gives a damn.”

For a moment, neither of them speak. The tension between them crackles like static.

Then Caitlyn’s voice softens, low and too sweet. “We could try again. You and me. It doesn’t have to be like before.”

Vi snorts. “Yeah, it doesn’t. Because I’ve moved on.”

“With her? Come on, Vi. She’s a dancer. What’s she gonna do, pirouette her way through life? She doesn’t get your world.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Vi snaps. “She doesn’t try to change me. Doesn’t act like loving me’s a project.”

Caitlyn flinches—just barely. Then she scoffs, turning on her heel. “You’ll come crawling back. You always do.”

You’re just about to step back outside when you pause by the glass door, hand brushing the handle.

Out on the porch, Vi is still standing where you left her—shoulders tense, jaw set. And across from her, like some ghost dragged out of the past, stands Caitlyn Kiramman.

Of course it’s her.

That smug little tilt to her chin, the flawless ponytail, the cheer captain uniform like armor—perfect as always, cruel as ever. You’ve seen her before. Around school. On Vi’s arm, once upon a time. You know exactly who she is. And what she used to be to Vi.

You shouldn’t eavesdrop.

But you can’t move.

You watch as Caitlyn leans in, way too close. Her voice is low and smug, like she knows she's winning some twisted game. And then—she turns her head just slightly and looks directly at you.

Dead in the eyes. As if she knew you were there the whole time.

And she kisses Vi.

Your breath catches—sharp and sudden. Like someone just slammed a door in your chest.

The world goes quiet. Not soft, gentle quiet—hollow quiet. Like all the sound was sucked out of the room. Like you’re watching a movie underwater, slow and detached and unreal.

You want to look away. You should look away.

But you’re frozen. Nails digging into your palms, stomach dropping like you just missed a step on a staircase. And your heart—it doesn’t just break. It fractures. Splinters. Like pointe shoes shattering on concrete.

Because you know Caitlyn. You know exactly what she’s doing.

And worst of all—you know Vi used to let her.

You don’t wait to see what happens next. Can’t.

You turn away, walking fast, barely able to breathe. Your vision blurs around the edges, but you don’t stop, not even when your chest starts to ache or your legs feel like they’re made of smoke. You just keep going.

Behind you, through the glass, Vi jolts back like she’s been slapped.

“Caitlyn, what the hell?!” she barks, shoving her away hard enough that Caitlyn stumbles.

Cait just smirks, brushing invisible lint off her sleeve. “Oh, calm down. It’s not like she didn’t already know.”

Vi’s eyes flick toward the door—just in time to catch the flutter of your dress, the faint blur of you vanishing into the house. Her stomach sinks so fast it makes her dizzy.

“Shit,” she breathes, too late.

Caitlyn’s smirk widens. “Told you,” she says, sing-song. “You’ll never outrun what we had.”

But Vi’s not listening anymore.

She’s already moving—ripping open the door, storming back into the house.

Looking for you.

Praying she didn’t just lose you before anything even had the chance to begin.

The music inside hits like a wave the second you slip through the sliding door—a bass-thumping, light-blurring wall of noise. But you don’t stop.

You push through the crowd, blinking hard, breath caught in your throat like a sob that doesn’t know where to go.

You barely register the tangled mess of bodies around you—people laughing, dancing, red Solo cups in the air. It all feels distant, muted. Like you’re not really in your body. Like you’re performing a role: heartbroken girl storms through party, exits stage left.

“Hey—whoa, whoa—” a voice cuts through the haze as someone catches your wrist.

It’s Margot, eyes wide, wearing a glittery crop top and concern.

Flint’s right behind her, already stepping between you and a guy holding a beer like he might’ve bumped into you. “Back off, man.”

“Jesus,” Margot says, tugging you gently aside, “what happened? You look like you just saw someone die.”

You try to speak but your throat is tight, jaw clenched. Your hands are shaking.

“Was it her?” Flint asks, already scowling.

You just nod.

Margot’s expression shifts instantly—fierce. Protective. “Where is she?”

You shake your head. “Don’t. I don’t wanna—just... I need to get out of here.”

Flint glances toward the door. “She’s gonna come after you.”

Margot looks at you like she’s ready to throw hands. “Let her try.”

Outside, Vi’s halfway through the door when she sees you disappear into the crowd—your back turned, the pale pink ribbon in your hair fluttering like a trail she can’t quite catch.

“Wait!” she calls out, voice breaking across the music.

She doesn’t care about the people she shoves past, doesn’t care about the way her name gets called out, confused and curious—“Vi? Yo, Vi, what’s going on?”

She doesn’t even notice Abby and Ellie until they grab her arm.

“Vi, what the hell?” Abby says, trying to hold her back. “What’s going on with you?”

“Cait kissed me.” Vi chokes out, eyes frantically searching the crowd.

“You kissed Caitlyn?” Ellie adds, somewhere between judgmental and genuinely baffled. “Why would you—?”

“I didn’t kiss her!” Vi snaps, practically shaking them off. “She kissed me, okay? And she did it on purpose. She knew she was watching—”

She’s breathing hard now, chest heaving, eyes wild.

Abby tries to calm her. “Vi, seriously, slow down. You’re scaring people.”

“I don’t care!” Vi shouts, already pulling away. “I have to find her. I have to fix this.”

And then she’s gone—shouldering her way through the crowd again, scanning every face like she’s trying to spot a dream that’s slipping too fast between her fingers.

Vi bursts through the front door, out into the chill of the night.

The porch lights burn bright behind her, casting long, lonely shadows across the lawn. The party is still thumping behind closed doors, the muffled bass a cruel reminder that the world keeps spinning even when yours just cracked open.

Her boots thud against the grass as she jogs forward, eyes scanning, heart thrashing.

“Where is she—” she whispers to herself, frantic. “Come on... please, please be out here...”

But the yard is empty.

The street’s quiet. Just a few parked cars, the soft hum of a distant engine. No fluttering ribbon. No soft footsteps. No you.

Vi stops in the middle of the lawn, turning in a slow circle, like maybe she missed something. Like maybe you’re just behind a bush, or sitting on the curb, or—

But you're not.

You're gone.

Her knees give out before she can even think about it, sinking into the damp grass with a dull thud. She drops her head into her hands, breathing hard like she just ran a marathon, like the air isn’t enough.

“Shit,” she whispers, voice cracking.

Then again, louder. More broken.

“Shit—”

Because she saw it. That split second through the glass—your silhouette at the door, your face right before you turned away. The way you froze, and then left without a word.

And she knows what it looked like.

She can feel what it must have felt like—for you.

The way Caitlyn turned and saw you before leaning in. That calculated move. That kiss meant to destroy.

And maybe she didn’t kiss Caitlyn back. Maybe she stood there stunned and horrified, shoved her away the second it happened—but you don’t know that. You didn’t see that part.

You saw her lips on Vi’s.

And that was enough to shatter everything.

Vi grips her jacket tight, knuckles white, like holding herself together physically might stop the emotional freefall. Her chest aches in this raw, pulsing way—because you’re soft and careful and brave in this quiet, delicate way. And you trusted her. You kissed her like you meant it. You chose her.

And now?

Now you probably think she chose Caitlyn.

You probably think she let it happen.

You probably think she’s just like before—the Vi who didn’t know how to be good for someone. The Vi who always ruined the things that mattered.

“I messed it up,” she says to no one. “I fucking messed it up.”

The night doesn’t answer.

Only the wind, brushing past the trees. Carrying your absence like it’s a weight Vi will never stop feeling.

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[the-algebra-thing]

ok listen this rfk shit pissing me off bc the backlash and the backlash for the backlash is like. let's just all think about this for a moment. rfk jr made a generalization about autistic people. he implied that all autistic people have very involved support needs. he implied that they are not functioning or contributing members of society on the whole. he called the growing asd diagnosis rates an epidemic. he also pledged to find the cause of autism. there is SO much to unpack here.

the original backlash that he got for this statement was obvious to me: autistic people that don't have as involved support needs as he was describing started pushing back, saying that autistic people CAN do the things rfk jr was describing them being incapable of. this is true—a TON of autistic people can function and contribute in society, and they can enjoy it and be proud of it, rightfully so. our country isn't built for them, so it's insulting to minimalize or outright deny the hard work they put in to do the things that people that aren't autistic often find come naturally to them.

the response to this backlash was a bunch of caretakers coming in and saying hey wait he's not completely wrong. some autistic people ARE like this, and I spend my life caring for them. perhaps most of these people are not autistic themselves, and a lot of them are coming in with the idea that rfk jr SHOULD be allowed to "find the cause" of autism, saying that any research that's being funded is a win. and because the majority of these people are not autistic, and because of the rhetoric that rfk jr has employed in his announcement, autistic people are rightfully extremely wary of all this—they do not trust a politician who has come in really hot with extreme generalizations and disparagement to set up research that will actually benefit autistic people, rather than you know. being a eugenics initiative.

but what a lot of people seem to be forgetting, and what I forgot before a local autistic activist I know mentioned it, is that autistic people with these highly individualized, involved support needs DO exist. and they deserve support—the individualized support they need, as well as community support and research on how we can better serve their needs. while caretakers are out talking about how autism has ruined their son's life, and autistic people are making memes about how rfk jr says they don't have to pay taxes, there ARE autistic people, the ones that the government is actively disparaging, that deserve all the dignity and research and love that we can provide, and are being left behind right now because they don't have the capability or the tools to engage in the conversation.

and I know that this is likely already in the back of many of our minds as it was in mine before I saw maddie's post, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it should be in the front. rfk jr's words bring attention to these people, but they do not show an intent to help them. they show an intent to hide and eliminate them. we don't need to "find the cause" of autism; we already know it's genetic as fuck. but people with complex support needs DO need our attention and support, and it's really easy right now to get caught up in feeling insulted for whatever reason instead of remembering this.

as a final addendum, I'd love to draw attention to a concept I saw a post about sometime soon after the inauguration—it was about those ads that are looking for participation in studies about lgbtq+ youth, and the post said stay. the fuck. away. now is NOT the time. do not give out your information do not let them take it from you. and this was the first thought I had about this whole catastrophe—in the midst of these horrifying threats on due process is THE most terrifying time for the US government to pledge to "find the cause" of autism. so. remember complex support needs do not make an autistic person less, and remember to keep your information to yourself and stay safe.

[king-candybug-backup]

SOON BUT FOR REAL THIS TIME 😭

Not going to have a repeat of chapter 11 delays by GODDD (So here's your regularly-scheduled programming of messy cover WIP, lol (SOME OF YOU PROBABLY KNOW WHAT SCENE THIS IS ALREADY, I JUST HAD TO DRAW CALHOUN BEING A GREMLIN, DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT LMAO)

One thing I do have to note is that I got my days off this week mixed up, I actually have tomorrow off, not today (forgot it was Easter weekend and so my days were moved around, my bad rip 😭) so it'll be posted tomorrow instead, where I'll have more time to properly finalize things. SEE Y'ALL THEN, BUT FOR NOW I'M GOING TO WORK AND THEN HIDING IN MY WRITER HIDEY-HOLE IN THE MEANTIME!

[m-s-justice]

once again posting meta. I wanna munch on the cycle. have lunch with me. TL;DR I think the Cycle is fundamentally flawed and fails as a narrative tool.

so like. is it necessary? I know that sounds stupid but let me yap. So, to rephrase "is it necessary?" to a more specific "what does it do for the narrative?" it pays off origins (and DE, to some extent) like obviously it's a loop we saw their statues. and we have hindsight. but what does it actually do?

Read More because this is LOOOOOOOONG I'm not exaggerating ↓

Time loops are stagnancy. Cycles usually entail a sort of inevitability that's born out of either immutable fate or one's own actions. In very interesting stories, it's usually both. It's usually a device that forcefully makes the character that's looping Go Through Stuff. Sometimes it's recognizing the fault in your actions, giving the character a new zest for life, sometimes it's a "man wouldn't it be fucked up if you were in a loop" but most of the time it's metaphorical for something!

what purpose does the Cycle serve? what is the Cycle saying or doing or representing?

fuuuuck if I know!

Let's see what actions put the bo3 cast into the loop!

They drink the blood of the mobsters to avoid getting wiped from existence by Monty. Richtofen planned this specifically, so to some extent the loop is intentional.

but like. why is that necessary? why is that the mechanism by which they preserve themselves? why would Monty ever consider wiping them if he's omniscient (to a degree) and knows it's a time loop because by definition them being in the past has Already Happened. But let's go a step further. Why Loop At All?

it complicates more than it preserves because the circumstances of the loop are not perfect. They Change things that cannot be undone by Monty simply moving them back through time and space to set up their future - past journey.

Do the kids in the house cease to exist once revelations is over? And "dimensional fracture" can only really be done once since they are entire universes with histories even if they diverge, they retroactively have always existed. The "shattering" cannot be a sort of "shatter-verse" where the off shoot parallel dimensions exist only as shards and reflections of the Original Timeline, because the universes existed before that as infinite worlds seeded with different potential via the Summoning Key by the uh I forgot it's name so I'll Elden Ring it up and call it the One Great from which all things originate. So the dimensional fractures were created the very first time Ultimis Richtofen was killed and then retroactively Always Existed and will thus continue to until... Nikolai Agarthans on his Device until he Elaborate Murder-Suicide

So like ok tangent over about that but what I'm getting at here is that the sequence of events that happen are Continuous and Circuitous. They have Already Happened, are currently Happening, and will Happen in the Future. Sofia getting sent to Revelations and dying with Maxis happens. But why would she reappear again if in the past, she's already been sent away by your past selves? Is she part of the loop? I wouldn't think so because she's not Primis. Why does Samantha cry out for help if she already knows she's never leaving the House because Revelations has happened billions of times and will happen billions more? and if Samantha is "reset" so to speak, that makes no fucking sense. Her Entry into the House is entirely unrelated to the Loop. She's put there by Ultimis Maxis and stays there until Revelations//AO. Her time there is strictly linear from her perspective. but if that's the case, why does everything get reset? I doubt it's Monty doing that because... that's not really what he does?

Monty is an interesting critter. He is essentially God, particularly the Christian one as the text itself alludes to. All powerful, omniscient, yet abides by the concept of "free will" and so he's marked by passive action. Nudges, influences, little hidden messages sneaked in to give you a clue, his presence implied on maps by a red scarf as opposed to the Shadow Man who boldly and bodily appears whenever he's able to. As seen with Primis, any direct action he takes must be subtle. unnoticeable. Hence why he loops them, so that it "works out perfectly". He wouldn't just upturn all of the fractures because wouldn't that impede on the people's inside of them? their "free will"? their existences are just as real as their originators. Monty wouldn't interfere with it by virtue of his own self imposed limitations.

but like ok whatever shut up justice and get to the point. Is the loop necessary?

I don't think so. It muddies the plot. And I'm fine with time loops as a concept, I am a Homestuck fan, but this one feels... sloppy. The small ones that happen, like Richtofen giving blood to his past self, that feels fine because it's a perfect loop. His own future seeds his past and vice versa. Nothing else is affected, other than the consequences of the loop that are his friends now knowing looping is possible and that he's now in possession of the blood.

But ok ok so what? it's a bit of a sloppy narrative but that's the point. the Loop sucks. that's why bo4 is about breaking it. because ending the loop is the other half of the narrative. Looping is a set piece, a set up, an instrument meant to push the narrative, breaking it, or just escaping it, is the narrative payoff, the completion of the arc.

so how does the loop break? A random guy that our crew has never once talked to nor even know exists manages to break his own, very literally rewriting fate.

Wow that is fucking ass. And not just because of the retcon of MotD, which I am very depressed about, but narratively speaking? for our protagonists? it sucks. they didn't do it, the breaking of the loop just happens to them. Richtofen doesn't sacrifice himself and cements, at least this version of himself, as the selfless, "nicest one", but because he's forced to do it by fate. It's not his choice, he was backed into a corner. it's either die one time and everyone else escapes or everyone dies infinitely. easy option.

but even from a Watsonian perspective, it fails. BotD is a "trap" to kill Richtofen? Well, in the LITERAL SAME MAP another Richtofen shows up and replaces him. Like... why is that even allowed? Why would the Warden or the Shadow Man just allow popsicle Richtofen to stay there? if you wanted to kill him, then just turn off the pod. that makes it so he, inevitably, dies there since all past Richtofens will eventually become that Future Richtofen via Revelations which is now no longer a viable path, then you kill the sole current one via the dark mechanism. boom. Edward dead, just like you wanted.

it's just so shit. It doesn't push the themes, it doesn't make any sense for people who interact with the loop, and breaking it was via the most contrived asspull imaginable that doesn't even have the guts to give the consequences of the map any weight.

I love this story and it's characters but I will never pretend that it's a masterpiece, or even well written. Does anyone want to share what Primis was doing while Richtofen was looping for years? Does anyone want to talk about why Monty is evil and somehow corrupted by the Dark Aether despite never interacting with it? Or how Samantha's Aether powers persisted in BO4 despite being "purified" by Monty and being allowed into the New Universe because of said purity? or why Richtofen had to collect his child self's soul, but it was apparently okay to collect the adult versions of Ultimis even though we know both Dempsey and that version of Takeo were experimented on by 115 and were thereby equally "tainted"? Why was Victis looping in Die Rise?

yet again I stand alone, gazing through my bleak window, painted in drops of falling rain. "No one understands", I murmur. I am left with the silence with my musings with the only response being that of the singing water playing a melody on the glass.

[dailymakotonaegi]

[wickmitz]

what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?

hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :

zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.

atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.

wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!

something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.

so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.

however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!

while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.

but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3

[honeyteastar]

Illegal street racing especially motorcycle type racing, meaning that heiji goes to one idk something something probably relating to the org and this is 100% for helping Kudo mind you his ass wouldn’t go to one especially with his bike (I have looked into it and apparently is not opt for actual racing) let’s 100% my evil hc that heiji is a motorcycle head (motorcycle enjoyer moment) BUT HES LIKE CASUAL YKNOWW anyway something something org related aside from case related moment so he signing up for it and he’s 100% underdog moment also kaito is here too.

Smirks this is actually a kaihei/heikai thing btw because ouaghh motorcycle boyfriends please on my knees anyways heiji takes a turn wayy to sharp or worst he legitimately falls (he breaks his fall btw expert of crashing and going insane with his bike <3) and but sadly kinda landed wrong so he’s out of da game but fortunately for him kaito saw that and he goes back n like help heiji, which at first heiji is like “fuck shouldn’t done that but it isn’t the worst but huh taken <insert injury here>” and he limps and gets his bike Kaito is like try’s to help but heiji is like no thanks <- stubborn moment but kaito legit just grabs him and carries him :3c MIND YOU HEIJI DOESNT KNOW THATS LIKE KAITO LMAOOO Kaito entered the race for his own information gaining or something so when rocking fully like all black n stuff so somewhat anonymous moment but he does yap and heiji is like there’s no way its Kudo. Then it’s not like ok nvm… but funny enough me thinks Kaito kinda talks that oh that’s a very stupid thing to do and like highly dangerous and etc with heiji type of bike in this setting and heiji is like 💢 yes i know! And they squabble about it lmao me thinks they bonk each other helmets like omg kissing… also something something down the line you get heiji actually recognizing kaito bike one day while visiting Kudo and just trails it lol and taaadaaa that’s how they meet each other

You can say ig this is a pre relationship thing going on but I really wanted the motorcycle stuff between the two bc is right there guys…

[beaniebabes]

Beanie Baby Official Club Kit, 1999 ☆

[darewolfcreates]

WIZARD BABYYYY!!!!

[omgafhsfanin2025]

It's him!! The guy with the inconsistent design!!! (I'm bored as fuck)

I'm still not done with the redesign I have no idea what to do with her clothes

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I don’t get why people feel like the Duolingo owl is threatening, if I ever feel like he is I just get mad at him. I could fight an owl. I don’t know if I’d win, but I don’t think I’d lose (two things that can apparently coexist). I think I’d survive at least and that’s not really winning but also not losing.

You wanna be so threatening? Da bør du drepe meg!

[caramelmochacrow]

Photon Maiden's selection album, 4 Un Voyage, finally released!! Let's go!!!

Here are the songs in order:

FriendShip

4 Challenges (ver. 2023)

We Never Stop (ver. 2023)

Hikari (ver. 2024)

Akatsuki (fruits mix ver. 2024)

OVERCOME (ver. 2023)

Linked Ring (ver. 2023)

Collector

24 (ver. 2024)

Into the storm (ver. 2024)

Be with the world (ver. 2023)

Photon Melodies (ver. 2023)

Begin Again

Platinum (Saki Solo cover)

Dear My Friend (Ibuki Solo cover)

Fansa (Towa Solo Cover)

Let The Show Begin (Noa Solo cover)

Your Love ♡

Happy Happy Friend (Cutopia cover)

Kawaikute Gomen (Cutopia cover)

Photon Melodies (TAKU INOUE Remix ver. 2025)

[vulpinesaint]

p sure we aren’t moots but I definitely know it’s you when I see venom on the tl!! and whenever is isn’t you I’m always a bit like 😮 👉 that’s vulpinesaints thing!!!

LITERALLY THAT'S VULPINESAINT'S THING. i love not being in fandom spaces it's so delightful to me that it's Me And Only Me posting about venom out here in this little corner of space as far as i'm concerned. surely there are communities out there somewhere but this is My thing. i am venom guy forever and ever and ever now

[theradicalace]

i had. a vision.

[orcelito]

Planning out my outfit for my concert shit. I think I've got good pants for it, maybe got shoes for it. Gonna look for a blouse tomorrow + possibly some new shoes. Bc the maybe-shoes are those shoes I got for the suit that I HATE. They gave me such terrible blisters. And I think the pants I have would look better with some kind of heel. But if I don't find anything good I can just use those flats. And for the blouse, it's gotta be black and long sleeve and also have enough flexibility to not restrict my playing. Flexible Clothes. All the better to play a funky little tune in.

On top of that tho I've got several assignments I gotta do this week. Gotta make a wireframe prototype for my web app for web programming class. Tonight, really. Bc the official thing is due Sunday but I gotta get it reviewed by classmate(s) (and also review someone else's, too), so better to have that done sooner rather than later. There's also a lab for my C programming class due on Friday, which I need to have done before the end of lab so I can get it checked off. Gonna try to get most of it done tomorrow night, if not all of it, so that I can just go into lab and get it checked off and then LEAVE. Bc if I stay the full lab I will have less than an hour b4 I gotta be at the venue for sound check. And I really would prefer to have more time before that. Tbh the lab probably won't take TOO much work, since it's just using recursion to make a lil maze solver thing. Not too many lines of code, since the recursion does a lot of that. The tricky part is actually figuring out the logic for it properly. But I took good notes on it when my professor talked about it in class so MAYBE I didn't attend the last 2 labs and MAYBE I haven't even started the thing. But it's ok. Fuck it we ball. And ON TOP OF THAT... the assignments, the orchestra prep, etc... I also wanna clean my apartment some, probably on Friday morning, bc nonzero chance of visitors after the concert. Not for long if they do come in. But Still.... #Embarrassed. It's not as bad as it was b4 bc thankfully I did manage to do my dishes. But there's still some things I should get cleaned up.

AND THEN...!!!!!!!!!!

Well I mentioned the prototype thing. I gotta review someone else's prototype, and I also need to update my own prototype depending on what people say about mine. Tbh I'm kinda planning on doing a lower-effort version to start with (instead of trying to make it perfect from the start) so that it'll hopefully be easier to adjust the prototype to whatever the advice is & make it seem like an actual improvement. There's also a presentation over this thing, which thankfully I'm presenting on... Wednesday, I think? But I gotta have the slides submitted I Think Sunday night (when the prototype itself is due). So I gotta prep the presentation alongside prepping the prototype. AND I have a lab for this same class due on Sunday too, so I'm a busy bee!!

And ON TOP OF ALL THAT, I have a midterm exam in-class on Wednesday for my C programming class (same day as the web programming presentation, ugh 🙄), a presentation for my quality engineering in IT class on Thursday (over ISO 9001 quality standard), AND a paper for that presentation's content due on..Friday, I think? It's a group presentation/paper, same group I worked with last time, which Thankfully they can pull their own weight. It's just more to do lol.

God. I'm being worked to the bone, actually. Feels like everything is happening all at once. But then I remember that it's midterms time and I have spring break the week after next. And I'm like. OK, that makes sense.

Just gotta survive the next week and a half... lol...