#generally I liked all stories in some way or another

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Series Synopsis: You are meant to be a sacrifice to Nikador, but when you gain the attention of the wrong god, you learn firsthand why mortals are not meant to trifle in the affairs of the divine.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Phainon x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 12.7k

Content Warnings: mentions of human sacrifice, mentions of abuse, it’s going to get violent and whatnot i am sure, blood and whatnot to be expected, obviously an alternate universe, an ending i would say is bittersweet??, not really 1:1 with the myth of bellerophon however if you know the myth you will definitely see a lot of similarities in the general progression of the story, phainon is a god, like fr, so ig you could consider it a problematic age gap SKHJF but more so power imbalances in general, phainon is a catfisher for a bit lowkey, vaguely ancient greek/rome inspired but in the way canon is (so loosely + i make most of it up), i have played maybe HALF of amphoreus !! so characterization may be spotty (#powerofau), uhh idk what else i will try to add it in here if/when it comes up ig

A/N: hey guys, it's me again, international best-selling author mira m1ckeyb3rry, with a special announcement!! (/ref) hehe i don't know what sort of writing fever possessed me but i truly wrote this entire thing in a matter of days (which may account for how messy it is but wtvr) anyways you all read the warnings i am sure but here are some additional notes for those who are interested (mostly regarding the background of the fic)!! with that said, i will keep my angsting to a minimum here because you all know the deal atp T_T no i haven't played amphoreus, yes he's probably ooc, i do indeed think this sucks, i am posting anyways. whatever

It was your brother who tied the bells around your wrists, the trembling melody of his hesitance echoing in their silvery clanging as he fumbled with the red silk of the ribbons. The knots he made were clumsy but firm, as artless as was to be expected of one of Nikador’s devotees, and as thunder shrieked outside, you wished most of all for your mother and her careful fingers. Yet she was forbidden from seeing you, not by any divine decree but because she would not stop wailing and the priests found it grating to listen to her repetitive cries. How can they do this? How can they ask for the life of my daughter?

Your brother, the pale-robed prince, would be the one to dedicate your heart to Nikador. Of course he would be — who else could? Not your father, that feeble, fading king who had long ago relinquished the throne to the lord of strife; not your mother, who came from a distant land where a gentle goddess was venerated, an endless forest where they praised reason instead of the steadfast violence that those of the mountain danced for. No, it had to be your brother, the next king, who had yet to prove his faith in the priests, who had yet to appease the thunderstorms which would not vanish from the horizon until that great titan was given the utmost of sacrifices.

“You mustn’t be frightened, sister,” he whispered fervently, winding cloth around your eyes and taking your hands to lead you forward. “This is what you were meant for. The priests said as much, and when have they ever been wrong? Nikador awaits you most eagerly. It will be quick, and then you will be with them. You mustn’t be frightened.”

The stone of the sanctuary scraped your bare feet as you were brought to the center of it and told to stand very still, your brother’s footfalls growing fainter and fainter as he took one step and then another away from you, leaving you alone upon the altar. You stood in exactly the place that countless oxen and sheep had, and although the scent of the many-flowered wreaths resting atop your crown was dizzying and heady, you were sure that it was nothing but the stench of stale cattle-blood which stung at the back of your throat, those dried, acrid remnants serving as cruel reminders of the ritual you had watched countless times yet never dreamt of participating in.

“Hear me, savage king who bears the lance of fury; you who vanquish all enemies and who are with me in all my battles; befriend me in this mine hour,” your brother began, his voice cracking as his hands, still wet with ceremonial water, seized your forearm and drew a shallow gash in it. You bit back a whine, for you would not give the priests the satisfaction of seeing you cower, and you waited until you heard the trickle of blood into flame before you allowed yourself one whimper of dismay, when you could be sure no one was listening.

“Now,” came the soft croon of the High Priest when your brother choked on his prayer, tears thickening his practiced incantation, “do not falter, young prince — call upon Nikador to free us from this storm. What is one life compared to thousands? Every man and woman on this mountain will suffer if this typhoon continues to rage, but until our great lord is duly satisfied, they will not lift the curse on our kingdom. I have seen it myself; the princess is who they demand. Who are you to deny they who have done so much for us? Who are you to deny your own deity?”

“Yes,” your brother whispered. “Yes, yes, my vigorous and horrid-tempered god, please, I pray, I beg you, deliver us from this torment, bring about a new dawn for our home, and — and in return — in return, accept our offering.”

You waited for him to plunge the sacred dagger into your heart, which was no longer your heart at all but rather Nikador’s, yet there was nothing of the sort, only an awed silence and a blistering, immeasurable heat, oppressive in its sudden strength. You turned your head this way and that, though of course with your blindfold it did nothing but frustrate you, the bells around your throat singing mockingly, teasing you with their knowledge of the unfathomable.

“So,” a stern voice said, and although it was softly done, it echoed in your ears such that you had to clamp your hands over them for fear that they would bleed. “This is what has become of the great cult of Nikador. A boy-prince pointing a blade at a sister who will not fight back. They would be ashamed to hear of it.”

“Why have you come?” the High Priest said, and although he was clearly attempting to maintain his dignity, his valor, he could not stop his words from breaking. “He did not summon you! What business do you have with us, who have always scorned you?”

“You called for dawn,” the voice said, nearly laughing, albeit humorlessly. “You called for deliverance. Who else but me did you expect?”

“Please,” the High Priest said, and you heard a thud as he ostensibly prostrated himself before the mysterious presence. “Do not punish us, revered one, sun-bringer, bearer of the world; spare us, and everything on this altar is yours. We shall hail your name for generations to come, shall honor you as surely as we honor Nikador—”

“It doesn’t seem to me that you honor Nikador very well,” the voice observed. “Why should I accept such an exchange? You have drawn the attention of divinity; perhaps I am not the god you wished to see, but I am a god nonetheless, and yet you are receiving me with such an unpleasant welcome. Well, I’ll overlook it this once. Tell me, why do you pray?”

“The storm,” you said when neither the High Priest nor your brother responded to the nameless god. “They say it is borne of Nikador’s wrath, and so we must pray for its end before we are swept away.”

“Ah,” said the god. “You speak. For how silent you were, I thought they must have cut your tongue out.”

“They did no such thing,” you said. The god hummed, and then a blade, sharp as sunrays, traced up the bridge of your nose, slicing away the linen covering your eyes without so much as nicking your skin. You blinked, your vision adjusting to the blinding light filling the temple, and when you realized who you stood before, you immediately fell to your knees and pressed your forehead to the floor.

“Do you recognize me?” he said.

“Phainon,” you said, your heart pounding when he did not correct you. It was him, the young general of the gods, the one who had supplanted Nikador in the pantheon, the bringer of the dawn and the deliverer of the departed — here he was, the deity that those of the mountain despised most, who they had unwittingly summoned to earth from his throne in the heavens. If your brother did not look so aghast, you would’ve sworn at him, for in truth you would rather die in Nikador’s service than live for even a moment longer under Phainon’s gaze, but you could tell even without him saying it aloud that he knew these things already, and furthermore echoed your thoughts entirely.

“Yes,” he said. “Then, knowing this, will you ask for my blessing?”

“No,” you said, surprising even yourself with how resolutely you said it.

“No?” he repeated.

“What will you do to them if I do? This storm is no natural disaster, and for you to free us from it, you will have to venture forth and do battle with Nikador until their fury abates. Isn’t it so?” you said.

“It is,” he agreed. 

“Then I will not ask it of you,” you said. “Since the birth of our people, Nikador has been our guardian. Perhaps a tempestuous one; perhaps a contemptible one, at times; but we will not abandon them. We will not turn our back on fury for a god without so much as a city to his name.”

“Girl!” the High Priest hissed. “What are you doing? Esteemed one, she meant no disrespect, you must ignore her, fright has twisted her mind…”

“Silence,” Phainon said. “I have met many men like you, old priest, and I have no desire in meeting another. Rise, o sacrifice, and enough with the bowing. What is it that will make your loyalties sway?”

“Nothing,” you said, scrambling to your feet and raising your chin, although you did not brave staring directly at him for too long, knowing that the truth of his being would sear away your vision forevermore. 

“What if I threaten to turn you into an ewe or mare?” he said.

“Aren’t I already as much?” you said, lifting your hands and showing him your adornments, which mimicked those seen on the livestock slain for the fifth day of Nikador’s Feast. He chuckled.

“How self-aware,” he said. “Well, what is it you want? Surely there is something. I can halt this storm and make you queen of this mountain in a moment if you say the words. I can afford you endless wealth and eternal peace. I can ensure you never go hungry and that your children are always healthy. Love, riches, power…pray to me and I will give you them all.”

“Do not squander this,” the High Priest hissed at you. “I am not sure how, but you have gained his interest. You must not let pride stop you from this opportunity.”

Yet you had read the stories; you knew what became of those who received the so-called favor of the gods. It was only Nikador who you could trust, only Nikador who disdained all mortals equally. The rest were as generous with their fits of rage as they were their boons and gifts — even your mother’s kind goddess had once caused the forest to wither for five years, after they had been given a bull instead of a sow as they preferred.

“Nikador,” you said. “That is what I ask for. Convince them to take me as their bride, and then, on the day of my wedding, I will swear allegiance to you as well.”

“Nikador has never taken a bride. Even in the heavens, not a single goddess has turned their head, so how would a mere mortal accomplish it?” Phainon said, sounding genuinely puzzled. “And they would not make a good lover, anyways. Are you certain that is your greatest desire?”

“That is all I want from you, sun-bringer,” you said. “If you cannot accomplish it, I will not blame you, but there is nothing more you can give or take from me.”

“You are bold,” he said. “But I will reward you for it. Very well; until the next time we meet, then.”

As quickly as he had come, he was gone, leaving spots in your vision and a curious darkness in the sanctuary, the very walls crying out for what they had held and then lost. You gasped for the breath you had been unable to fully draw in his presence, dabbing away the sweat which had collected on your brow and not daring to look at your brother or the High Priest.

“What have you done?” your brother whispered finally.

“What have I done?” you parroted with a scowl. “You incompetent fool, what choice did I have? You made me bargain with a god — and not just any god but Phainon!”

“Do not raise your voice against the prince!” the High Priest said. “We were — we were so close, we even had a god in our hands, and you wasted his goodwill with such a thoughtless wish. Nikador’s bride! Who do you think you are?”

“Have you forgotten those stories you taught us when we were children? What if we ended up in the way of my uncle? He, too, thought he could parley with gods, and how has it left him? Bereft of an eye! Whatever Phainon may have given us, we would come to regret it, I know it to be so,” you said. “I have asked him for an impossible gift in the hopes that something else will strike his fancy in the meantime and he will not return to toy with me further. Everyone knows Nikador does not love, and furthermore they detest Phainon, so they will be doubly sure to say no to any requests coming from him. It was the best I could think of in such a fraught situation!”

“You’re right,” the High Priest said. “The gods are unpredictable at best.”

“Thank you,” you said warily, for he was not the sort of man that would concede so easily, and especially not with the sort of absurd smile he was, for some reason, donning.

“Thus, we cannot let you stay here. You have gained the attention of Phainon, who is staunchly opposed to Nikador. Who knows what will become of us if we continue to harbor you with that knowledge? Nikador may not strike us down, they are far too judicious for it, but there is no telling what curses Phainon will rain upon us if we mistakenly anger him when his eyes are turned toward our kingdom,” he continued.

“What did you just say?” you said.

“He is headstrong and young as far as gods go, and you are his latest amusement. We are already suffering from Nikador’s wrath. We cannot handle another disaster, especially of such magnitude,” the High Priest said.

“You’re banishing me,” you said, and now you were incredulous. “I who was meant to be your great sacrifice, I who am your princess…you’re banishing me?”

“Perhaps we ought to think it through,” your brother said uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. “My sister is sage and learned; her presence at my side will make my reign only that much stronger. Besides, who’s to say that Phainon will do anything? As she said, likely he will grow bored of Nikador’s obstinance and move on.”

“Are you willing to risk it?” the High Priest said, and if you were not old enough to know better than to raise your hand at anyone, you would’ve struck him on the mouth for his daring. “Your reign will have all the strength you require if you continue to follow Nikador’s teachings. The words of a careless princess tainted with Phainon’s favor will only bring about our end.”

“Your mind is made,” you said. “And if you say it, then it will be done, High Priest.”

“Surely you understand,” he said.

“All too well,” you said, and then you looked at your brother, who avoided your eyes. You waited for him to say something, anything, but he was motionless, as deferent in the end to the High Priest as the rest of the kingdom, despite his many-times-higher status. So it was all you could do to dip your head in feigned respect before spinning on your heel, leaving a path of red footprints in your wake as you left the temple unimpeded.

They gave you until the next dawn to leave — after all, dawn was Phainon’s domain, and so they could pretend like it was mercy or caring that drove them to this. He will guide you, the High Priest assured you as his servants stripped your chambers of their finery, carrying the velvets and silks to the temple where they would be burnt in search of Nikador’s forgiveness. Wherever your path leads you, he will light your way.

You saw him at the kingdom gates in the blue hour, when the sun was beginning to creep over the horizon and your pony was impatiently pawing at the dirt of the road. He wore new robes, the collar trimmed with velvet, his face lined with satisfaction, and when he saw you he had the nerve to bow, although you were a princess no longer and he had not shown you that respect even when you had been.

At his side, her elbow secured with his fist, was your mother, and although her countenance was wan with despair, her very expression begging you not to leave her alone, she did not move. You could not bear to look at her, not without your throat threatening to close, so you pulled your cloak over your shoulders and knotted your fingers in your pony’s flaxen mane, as if through his unwavering strength you could find your own. Then, without looking back, you kicked him forward before you could falter, knowing that every moment you hesitated would only cause you and your mother both to suffer all the more. 

“Go to your uncle!” she shouted after you as your pony spooked at shadows, bolting out of the kingdom with ears pinned. “Go to your uncle, he will—!”

She was cut off by the High Priest’s rebuke, and you squeezed your eyes shut, leaning forward and urging your pony faster, faster, wishing, not for the first time, to be somewhere far, somewhere that the High Priest and his ilk could not reach you ever again. If you had wings, you might’ve flown, and in the back of your mind you laughed at the thought that you could’ve, had you been naive enough to ask Phainon for that kind of a blessing. Yet as it was, your only recourse was galloping away on the mountain road, leaving your temple and your family and your title far behind, where you could never again reach them.

You wandered for some time — how long you could not say, but it was certainly many hours before you came across another person, the first sign of life you had encountered since leaving the kingdom. He was an old man, his eyes a bright shade of ochre set deep in his wrinkled, sun-worn face, his hair thin and white, his limbs spindly and bent. His clothes were torn and looked to be only hastily mended, and he walked with a warped branch serving as a cane, limping along the path without care for the day beating down on his caving back. 

“Sir, are you alright?” you said, reining your pony to a stop beside him, ensuring your shadows fell over the man in some semblance of protection. “Why do you travel by yourself, in such a state?”

He beamed up at you, gummy and pink, and then he coughed. Before you could stop yourself, you were dismounting and patting him on the back, offering him your arm to steady himself with as he heaved and hacked.

“Ah, you are such a kind girl,” he said, his voice hoarse, his gnarled fingers digging into your bicep. “Not many would stop to help a stranger. Your family has raised you well.”

“My mother always told me that it is better to be scorned in the pursuit of kindness than to ignore someone who may be in need,” you said.

“She must be very proud of you,” he said. You frowned slightly before schooling your expression back into a pleasant, if not plain, one.

“Perhaps,” you said. “But what of your family? Why have they let you travel this road on your own? It is dangerous, you know.”

“My family and I are ever-quarreling,” he said, shaking his head with such affected despondence that it was nearly comedic. “My latest actions have drawn their ire, so I have excused myself from my home for a time. They will forgive me sooner or later, and then I will return to pester them as always, but at the moment, it is best that I am on my own.”

“I see,” you said. “In truth, I am in a similar situation, although I do not think I will be forgiven. I go now to my uncle, who does not know, yet, that I am to be spurned, and I hope that he understands my plight a little better than my brother and father did. Do you have a destination, sir? If our paths are similar, then I can accompany you for a time. I do not like the idea of you traveling alone, especially not at night. The wolves are so daring this time of year…”

“I have no path in mind,” he said. “I was set to walk this road until I thought their rage might have cooled, whereupon I would perhaps return home — or perhaps not.”

“Then you must come with me!” you said in alarm, for he was such a frail wisp of a person that even a particularly strong breeze might be enough to knock him over, let alone an actual threat. Though you were sure he was safe from the many thieves that liked to accost wayward travelers, having nothing worth stealing in the first place, that did not mean he would escape the notice of any beasts that might be hungry enough to grow indiscriminate in what they saw as prey.

“Oh, I would not want to be a bother,” he said. You shook your head.

“I insist. It would bother me far more to leave you behind; I would think of you with every step, wondering if something had happened,” you said. “Come, let me help you onto my pony. He is gentle, and anyways I will lead him, so you needn’t worry about falling.”

“You will walk!” the old man said, stepping into your cupped palms nonetheless and allowing you to boost him into the saddle. You shrugged, for although you were unused to such laborious work, you were determined to bear it without complaint.

“My uncle does not live very far,” you said. “And between the two of us, I am the better suited to it. Do not fret — if I thought I could not manage, I would not have offered!”

“You are generous to such a fault. One day, someone may take advantage of it,” the old man said, cracking his back as you began to walk forward.

“It is a habit for me,” you said. “Since childhood, I have been tasked with helping others. Nikador’s teachings call for it, if they are followed in their purest form. There can only be strength if it is in contrast to weakness, and it is the duty of those with to help those without.”

“I have not heard of such a creed,” he said.

“Many accept the words of the priests as those of Nikador themselves, but then, how easy it is to twist ideals if none are willing to seek the truth on their own! I have read the myths and the stories in their most ancient versions, so I have drawn my own conclusions, but I know they are in opposition to most,” you said.

“Then isn’t it vanity for you to assume that yours are the correct ones and theirs are not?” he said. You whirled to look at him with your jaw dropped, and when you saw he was serene as before, his eyes now closed, his lips still half-curled, you let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“I suppose so!” you said. “Though it’s not the priests’ interpretations I am opposed to, it is how — never mind. I should not burden you with my anger, fresh as it is.”

“After helping me, you worry about burdening me?” he said. You waved your hand dismissively.

“It’s beyond explaining, anyways,” you said. “And far from prudent. I have said too much already.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “The ramblings of an old man are hardly widely believed, anyways. You can speak freely before me.”

“I appreciate your offer,” you said. “But it is alright. You have your troubles, and I have mine; I won’t inquire into yours if you offer me the same courtesy. We may reach my uncle with our sanities intact in that way.”

“If it is what you prefer,” he said, and then neither of you spoke further, leaving nothing but the afternoon birdsong to fill the empty silence. 

He was a good companion, the old man, and as the day bled into night and then back to morning again in a perpetual loop, you found you were grateful for him. Your feet may have ached terribly, but it was better than being alone, even if the two of you never conversed much beyond the basic formalities. You were fond of him in your own way, and with every hour that passed, you thought to yourself how wonderful it would have been if you both had met under better circumstances. Had he been younger, a citizen of your kingdom…had you still been a princess instead of an exile…you might’ve been friends in earnest instead of weary travelers merely following a road without end.

“We are nearing my uncle’s home,” you said when the firs began to mingle with poplars, the sunlight gold and dappled on the path instead of thin and harsh as it was in the alpine territories. “He can be frightening to those who do not know him, but I give you my word that he is a kind man, and I will do what I can to soften his heart to you.”

“You mean to bring me into his city?” the old man said.

“Do you have anywhere else to go? If you are even half as exhausted as I, then you should be thanking me. My uncle is well-regarded, and I will ensure your accommodations are comfortable,” you said.

“I thank you kindly for thinking of me, but it is long past time that we parted ways. I will not be welcome in the forest, and I do not want you to face any more troubles because of me,” he said.

“You haven’t brought trouble,” you protested. “And why wouldn’t the forest welcome you? You are so kind!”

“Ah, you wouldn’t say that if you knew more about me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you see, my…aunt, who would be furious to know I just called them that, lives in the forest, and they will do anything to chase me away if they learn of my presence.”

“How cruel,” you said when he motioned for you to halt and then slid to the ground. “They really cannot tolerate you to that extent?”

“It would be best not to push it,” he affirmed. “Thank you for coming with me this far, but I will be alright from here. You were nothing like what I expected, but I am happier for it.”

“What do you mean by that?” you said, bending to embrace him in farewell even as you did. He inhaled sharply, and for a moment you thought you had overstepped, but then he was holding you to him with a strength that belied his delicate stature and advanced age. It took you aback, but it was somehow so tender that you made no move to escape, burying your face in his shoulder, which smelled of thyme and mountain-tea.

“Nothing,” he said. “Go on and do not hesitate. We will meet again, I am sure of it.”

“How can you be?” you said, more bewildered now than you had been in the entire time you had known him. He only hummed, mysterious and sly, and then turned to walk back the way you had come. You glanced at your pony, although of course he would be no help, and then back at the man, who continued to hobble along.

“Our business remains unfinished,” he called over his shoulder. “And I do not like to leave things open-ended.”

“...our business?” you repeated under your breath, trying to think of what he could possibly mean by that and coming up blank. Mounting your pony, you cued him forward, and then you shifted in your saddle for one final look at the strange man, who had never confounded you so greatly as in that moment — yet in one final twist, he had vanished, as surely as if he had never been there in the first place. You blinked a few times, attempting to clear your vision, but he did not reappear, and you were left with nothing but the ache in your legs from walking and the lingering warmth of his arms to know that he had been there at all.

The great city of the Grove was sheltered deep in the forest, caught in a sort of perpetual twilight from the lacy shade of the many boughs that criss-crossed over the sky and flourished eternally, blessed by Cerces as they were. Your uncle had told you, once, with mocking in his voice and a pinch to his brow, that the Grove itself was Cerces’s sanctuary, and so the entire place bloomed as a temple might, every blade of grass as sacred as any altar’s offerings.

He was waiting for you by the gates, and you did not ask him how he had known you would come, for of course he had — he knew everything, he was that sort of man, who could see farther and further than hawks and prophets alike. You only handed your pony to a waiting stableboy and then collapsed against him, your arms winding around his neck, clenching the fabric of his long coat and allowing a single sob to escape you.

“Uncle,” you said. “Oh, uncle, uncle, they’ve cast me from the mountain—”

“I know,” he said, and somehow you found his typical perfunctoriness to be a comfort instead of abrasive, as it often was. “I will come to your chambers tonight; there will be time to weep then, but not now. Now you must appear brave, or else I will not be able to convince the others to accept you. They are already wary of taking in one who reeks of Phainon’s meddling, and their reluctance will only double if you appear to be a frightened coward crawling to us and expecting our protection from the gods.”

“Who told you?” you said. 

“Your mother sent a messenger bird,” he said. “Even in ink and parchment, her fear was evident. Is it true?”

“I don’t know what she wrote to you, or what the High Priest has poisoned her mind with, so I cannot say for certain, but given that I am here instead of home, you must know the situation is less than ideal,” you said.

“Later,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and then adjusting the filigreed eyepatch covering the left half of his face. “For now, have something to eat and take a bath. You look horrible, and you will have to face the rest of the Sages tomorrow.”

“I walked all this way,” you said. “I look better than you’d expect.”

“And still worse than one who must argue with the supreme authorities of the Grove ought to,” he shot back immediately. “Go, and gather your thoughts while you’re at it. They will not let you off without sharp questioning.”

The baths in the Grove were modeled in the way of the seaside capital, Okhema, although according to your father, who had been even so far in his youth, the marble buildings of Okhema had no equal, and certainly not here, where fashion was sacrificed for function. But you were in no position to be selective, and anyways, after traveling for so long, you would’ve been thrilled even by a particularly clear pond, so the steaming waters and stone benches of the bath seemed all but paradisiacal as you approached them tentatively.

Right as you dipped your toe in to check the temperature, you heard a small splashing sound, and then you were gasping, for there in the middle of the bath was a small bird, flapping its wings most desperately as it struggled to stay above the surface. Wading through the water as fast as you could, ignoring how the sudden heat of it nearly burnt you, you scooped the bird into your palms, cradling it carefully to your chest. It fluffed out its feathers indignantly, and you were careful to walk slowly back to the edge, so that you did not splash it by mistake, for it was already so damp and sorry-looking you could not bear the thought of worsening its plight.

“Oh, my dear friend, how did you end up here?” you said gently, mindlessly, looking over at the open window and wrinkling your nose, scratching under its beak in an attempt to soothe the tiny heart that you could feel hammering away in the glass cage of its chest. “Such a pretty creature you are. I’ve never seen anything like you before, but then again, I am so far from home that that shouldn’t come as a shock.”

Sitting on one of the steps carved into the side of the bath, you swished your legs about in the water idly, raising your hands into the air and smiling at the bird, who did not attempt to fly away, only cooing at you sweetly, prompting a giggle from you. It was a little songbird of a variety you did not recognize, small and white, with gold feathers ringing its neck and its beetle-dark eyes, which sparkled as it looked down on you like it was entirely pleased with its situation, despite still being soaked.

“I must continue to bathe, but the window is open, so you may fly away whenever you would like,” you said, setting it down on the lip of the bath before beginning to rub oil into your skin. “Or you may stay! I do not mind the company.”

The bird chirped at you, cocking its head, and although you knew it was ridiculous to believe you could genuinely converse with it, you could not help yourself from shaking your head with the utmost of solemnity, taking your strigil and scraping the oil off alongside the dirt of your ordeals, exhaling in relief as you did so, for it had been far too long since you had been properly clean — and longer since you had bathed of your own volition, not by one of the priests tasked with readying you for the ritual of sacrifice.

“I am glad I came as well,” you said. “You might’ve spent hours on your own if I had not. Well, at any rate, you would’ve been the cleanest songbird the Grove has ever seen, so there is that consolation.”

It pecked your hand as you set the strigil down, as if it were chastising you for making light of its troubles. You let your thumb run along its back in apology, and then you returned to immersing yourself in the bath, allowing the hot water to soothe away the tension in your muscles, which were still taut from how long you had spent walking. The steam turned the world hazy, and you stretched languidly, one arm and then the other, finding yourself in such a dreamlike state it was a wonder you did not fall asleep entirely.

“Do wake me up if I should drift off,” you told the bird through a yawn. “Since leaving home, I have not been sleeping well, if at all. It is difficult to go from a palace to a field in a span of hours, you must understand.”

“Excuse me? This bath is meant only for the Seven Sages. Who are you?”

The voice was masculine and unfamiliar, and immediately you sat up, your earlier playfulness replaced with a sense of dread, though the man had given you no reason yet to fear him.

“My uncle told me it was alright for me to come here,” you said. “He said no one else would be using it at this hour.”

“Your uncle?” the man said. “Ah, Anaxagoras. He always has been one to bend the rules. You are the infamous niece, then? But you look nothing like him.”

“He was taken in by my mother’s family when he was young. We share no blood,” you said. “Who are you?”

“I am Socrippe,” he said. “Another of the Seven Sages of the Grove. Ordinarily, your uncle would have been right to say the baths would be deserted at this hour, but I was tired of our latest debate and asked to be excused early.”

“I see,” you said. “It is an honor to meet you, great Sage.”

“So you are the girl that has piqued Phainon’s interest,” Socrippe said, and then he was crossing the bath so that the two of you were side by side, mere paces apart. You shrank away, but he followed you, and the bird trilled as you edged closer and closer to where it had thus far sat undisturbed. “I can see why. With how beautiful you are, I am surprised you have not won Mnestia’s heart as well.”

“Thank you for your kind words, but I must be going now,” you said. “My uncle awaits me.”

“Your uncle is still busy in that debate, arguing that we must hear your case and give you the chance to stay with us. The rest of the Sages are stubborn, but I am sure they will at least listen to you tomorrow. Have you prepared a proper defense? If not, I can assist you. You will not have to try very hard to convince me, at least,” he said.

“I appreciate your concern, but I really am alright. My uncle’s counsel shall be more than sufficient,” you said.

“What is the hurry? Stay, do not let me be the reason you leave earlier than you would’ve liked,” he said when you made to stand, catching your wrist and tugging at it. You felt it, then, the phantom hands of those priests as they scrubbed your back with pumice, how unsympathetic they had been, how harsh, like they were goading you into a yelp you refused to give them, reluctantly permitting them only the satisfaction of seeing your shivers, which you could not help yourself from. Yanking your arm back, you hastened your pace, although it did not matter when he, too, stood and mirrored your every step.

“Thank you for your generosity, but it is unnecessary,” you repeated, though it was in vain.

“You mistake me,” he said, and although he was not so close, it suddenly seemed as though he were looming over you, as if here were a great tree and you were merely the size of the bird at your feet. “It isn’t generosity. I am not offering.”

You took a deep breath, trying to think of a prayer to Nikador. They would not come to your aid, not so deep in the Grove, which was Cerces’s domain and thus forbidden for all other gods to approach, but the words alone would bring you solace as the Sage came nearer and nearer. Yet for some reason, every ode to war was gone from your mind, and all you could think of was a hymn for the sun-bringer, which you did not even remember ever learning.

How, then, shall I sing of you? For everywhere, Phainon, is beholden to you, over the mountains and across the isles, from high-sloping foothills to beaches canting seaward. Do I sing of how you were born a man amidst golden furrows, and how you then rose to become the joy of mankind itself? Hear this, Earth and wide Heaven, surely he will have his fragrant altar and precinct, and he shall be honored above all; as for me, I will carry his name close to my heart, and I will never cease to praise that white calamity, o shining Phainon, god of every dawn.

In his single-mindedness, Socrippe stumbled on the bird, which set it to shrieking. You covered your mouth as the Sage yelled and the bird flew at his face with a fury you had not expected such a small thing could contain, and then you pulled a towel around your waist, fleeing the bath while he was distracted, thanking Nikador for the intervention under your breath. For surely it had been them, you thought as you touched your forehead in reverence, who else could drive a bird to such madness? And one who had been so cheerful only moments before! You had thought they had abandoned you, but all along they were there, your defender to the last.

You had had some plans of great productivity after returning to your temporary chambers, of eating a full meal and preparing your defense for the Seven Sages, but the bed proved irresistible, and before you knew it you were curling on your side, pulling your blanket up to your chin and closing your eyes, although you promised yourself you would not sleep. It would be unwise — you still had much to do — the day was young, the sun had not even reached its zenith —

A paw batted at your forehead, and at first all you could do was groan, pushing it aside, but to your consternation, the animal remained undeterred, tapping you again and again. You squeezed your eyes shut, doing your best to ignore its demands, but it seemed to disagree with this, for then there was a pressure on your chest, the unexpected weight of the creature all but suffocating, causing you to cough as your lungs constricted in alarm. Against your will, your eyes opened, and you were met with a pink nose and a stare like finchfeathers, glowing even in the dark of the evening.

“I fell asleep!” you said, sitting up abruptly, earning your a plaintive mewl from the cat as it tumbled onto the blanket and looked up at you dolefully, its ears low and its fur standing on end. “Yes, yes, thank you for waking me. It would’ve been embarrassing if my uncle came to visit while I was still slumbering away like a child sent to nap.”

Evidently, the cat forgave you for your transgressions, for it rolled over on its back and peered at you invitingly, beginning to purr as you stroked behind its ears, rubbing its cheek against your wrist in content. A lump swelled in your throat the longer you pet it, and with your free arm you hugged your knees to your chest, trying to stifle your tears but finding yourself unsuccessful.

“How many wonderful things this Grove has,” you said. “First that bird blessed by Nikador, and now—hey!”

The cat’s claws had caught against your palm, leaving behind an angry scratch, not deep enough to bleed, but enough to smart adamantly. When you pretended to scowl at it, it blinked at you, slow and innocent, and then it flicked its tail in an obvious solicitation for you to continue. You did not, crossing your arms and thinking yourself quite stern for it, but instead of being cowed as you thought it would be, the cat only stood and shook itself, prancing about atop the blanket with no small amount of self-approbation. 

“Now, don’t be like that,” you said, giving in and extending your arms. “You took me by surprise, that’s all. Come back.”

The show was over in an instant; it leapt at you, a flying mass of fur and outstretched legs toppling into your lap and tucking its tail over its paws, glaring at you until you continued your earlier ministrations, albeit more pensive now, lost in reminiscing.

“I had a kitten just like you when I was younger,” you said. “Though she was a tortoiseshell, not all white as you are, and she had the prettiest green eyes. Like the emeralds in my father’s Okheman ring. I would tie ribbons around her neck and bring her everywhere with me; in that time, they called her the second princess and claimed I would’ve given her my wreaths if they would’ve fit her.”

You lifted the cat, paying no mind to its disgruntled huff in the moment but patting it in apology after you had returned it to the dip in the cushion where you had formerly sat. Going to the mirror, you began to fiddle with your hair, attempting to make yourself presentable enough that your uncle would not ridicule you for your sloppiness. 

“I would’ve, maybe,” you said to the cat, who was also grooming itself, perhaps in an imitation of you. “But the High Priest took her from me before her first year. He said that it was better I grieved her now, when I loved her less, than to save it for later, when my sensitive mind would not be able to bear it with the unflinching nature Nikador required. I’m not sure what he did with her; he never told me, I think because he knew I would seek her out. In the end, the truth of her fate was less important than what it meant to me — she had gone somewhere I could not reach, as all things I would love eventually would.

“Nikador tells us that we do not weep, we stand true in the face of adversity and turn our sorrow into strength, but I could not help how I cried that night. The priests chastised me for it, but I was a child and did not understand what meaning they were trying to impart. All I knew was that there was a bleak void in my chest, for my heart had gone with her, wherever she might have been, and I did not know if I would ever be whole again.”

Giving up on your appearance and deciding you would just have to take your uncle’s comments in stride, you reclined next to the cat again, permitting it to clamber onto your chest and ruffling its fur idly as your mind wandered, thinking of everything you had left behind without even a farewell. You hadn’t been given the time, not when the dawn encroached so rapidly on the night, not when the High Priest and all who followed him were watching your every move, waiting to find a moment of weakness that they could prey upon — because it was not enough to exile you, of course it was not. They wanted to destroy you, and they would not settle for anything less.

You did not doubt that even now, they were poisoning the hearts of your former subjects, telling them how the princess had been so consumed with thoughts of godhood that she had even abandoned her people, that she had fled from her duties out of some dream of worshipping Phainon and marrying Nikador. Or maybe they would not even say that much; maybe they would omit the last part entirely, simply announcing  that you had grown enamored with Phainon’s promises, had not been strong enough to resist his ethereal temptation, and so had gone somewhere where you could pray to him until he blessed you wholly, in flesh and spirit alike.

“As if I would ever pray to that conceited, arrogant deity,” you muttered to yourself, emboldened by Cerces’s omnipotence in the Grove to speak the truth, for they would defend you if it came to it. “Appearing when he wasn’t even wanted, forcing me to ask him for a boon in exchange for my unwilling worship…what sort of a god! Would that Nikador had come, as they had been bid to. My death might’ve meant something then, for it would’ve been the death of a princess, a sacrifice — I might have become a sort of martyr for my brother to learn spine and soundness from, though that could be asking too much. But we’ll never know, will we? Because thanks to Phainon, I am here, a common outcast begging for shelter and talking to a cat like it can understand me.”

The cat meowed. You gave it a look. It meowed again. You snorted.

“My apologies. Talking to a cat because it most certainly can understand me,” you said. “Do all creatures of the Grove have such intelligence and charm? You must teach my uncle your ways, for he is possessed with twice the intelligence but not nearly half the charm.”

Like you had summoned a visitor by taking one’s name, there was a knock on your door, and before he opened it you knew it was your uncle, because he was a Sage, and so the world of the Grove always bent a little differently where he was concerned. Winking at the cat and raising your finger to your lips like you were swearing it to secrecy, you called for your uncle to enter as he’d like, shifting so that your posture was correct, without flaw, for of the many things you knew he might pick at, you did not want that to be one.

“Good evening,” he said as entered, holding a plate in one hand, resting the other on his hip. “I was told you did not ever call for your meal. I can only assume it was because you were preoccupied with more important matters.”

“Entirely,” you said, taking the food without even thanking him, for you were so famished and he had, you noticed, ensured that what was prepared was a dish you had loved in your youth.

“You are a horrible liar,” he said.

“Only to you, who knows me so well,” you said, permitting yourself the bit of cheek — you had always been his favorite, for the very reasons you were so reviled by the leaders of the cult of Nikador. To the priests, your inquisition was a thing to be feared, but to Anaxagoras, the Fourth Sage of the Grove, it was a cherishable quality that he cupped his hands around and protected, as surely as one might guard the wavering flame of a lantern in the wind. That was why your mother had told you to go to him, and why you had planned on it before she had even made the suggestion: not out of any sort of familial duty, but his keen recognition, his acceptance of the state of things how they were and not how they ought.

“But the time for lies and jest is past,” he said. “Now you must tell me what happened and why you are here.”

“Perhaps we should begin with you telling me what you heard from my mother,” you said. “I do not wish to bore you with redundancies.”

“She did not write much. I doubt that she could,” he said. “All she said was that you had somehow attracted the gaze of Phainon, and so the priests had banished you from the mountains for fear of what Nikador might think should they continue to harbor the devotee of one that is so loathed by that war-mongerer.”

“Then the High Priest has done exactly as I thought he might,” you said. “Of course. Even though I am in exile, my very name cannot be allowed to linger on people’s lips as anything more than a reference to a weak-willed joke of a girl.”

“I surmised as much,” your uncle said, furrowing his brow at the cat, offering it his closed fist. The cat hissed, slinking back to hide behind you, nudging you in displeasure, like it was urging you to reprimand him for even the approach. “But Phainon’s mark does linger upon you, and that can only mean you have asked him for something. I thought you were sharper than that.”

“Do you think I wanted to?” you snapped. “It was Nikador they were meant to summon, my brother and that accursed High Priest. I am sure you are aware of the storms that have torn at the mountain for weeks now?”

“Of course I am,” he said. “Though I was under the impression they paused for a time, and only resumed recently.”

“Yes, I was fortunate that they ceased while I was traveling; perhaps it is that Nikador took pity on me and allowed me safe passage, or perhaps it was Phainon, though I doubt the latter is the case,” you said. “Anyways, during the worst of it, there was a great convocation in the throne room. Every priest in the kingdom was called to attend, and my entire family, too, as we made our plans for how we might appease the great lord. My brother suggested hosting games in Nikador’s name, for they are fond of sporting events, of the competitive verve to it all, but the people were too storm-weary to consider participating in such a ceremony. One of the younger priests thought that we might build a grander temple for them, as ours is old and, some may say, falling into disrepair. Then there was me, who said that maybe Nikador was expressing their displeasure at the order of the priests, who had not served their name in as many years as I had lived.”

“They did not take kindly to it,” your uncle said rhetorically. “You should’ve known better than to say anything.”

“I was tired of them,” you said. “They spoke of games and buildings and slaughterings, but who would do these things? Not them, comfortable as they are, twisting Nikador’s laws to serve their own purposes and make themselves all the wealthier, all the more powerful. The High Priest has already deposed my father in all but name, and he will soon do the same to my brother, who is ten times as irresolute and quivering as his sire, malleable to suggestion in a way you taught me not to be.”

“It is as innate as it is taught,” your uncle said, and although he was brusque, his words were tinged with mourning, for you could tell by the expression he wore that he had already understood where the story was going and now only waited for you to confirm it. “Your brother has long since been past saving. I could not manage it, so how could you?”

“I wanted to, though,” you said. “I wanted to take his hand and bring him into understanding, to lead him from the mania of the priests and into Nikador’s heart, where we might have resided together. I argued with him so desperately that day, him and my father alike, begging them to hear me this once, and for a moment I swear I saw him falter. He would have joined me, uncle, I know it, but then the High Priest had a vision.”

How perfectly it had coincided, a stroke of lightning as the High Priest raised his hand, the room falling silent, your father’s vapidness dissipating in an instant, replaced with a sheen of rapture as he leaned towards the High Priest and away from his straight-backed throne. Nikador had spoken to the High Priest, who was the only one they ever communed with, or so he said, and now he would turn prophecy into decree, vision into direction, storm into sunshine. 

“‘They demand the grandest sacrifice,’” you repeated miserably, the words etched into your memory as clearly as if they had just been spoken for the first time. “‘The princess. Only by giving herself can she satisfy them; anything less will be seen as an offense of the highest order.’”

“What a fraud,” your uncle said, pacing the breadth of the room, and while his voice remained level, his every bootstep was livid, incensed. “To claim divine intervention—”

“But who would say as much? In face of Nikador’s so-called will, we are all powerless,” you said. “How easy it was for him to sentence me to death. My brother did not argue; my mother could not; my father would not. I did not fight it, either, for I knew it would come to nothing, and I refused to let them know that they had — that they had — that they had been successful. I would die as Nikador’s sacrifice, and in the runes written with my blood, my brother, who was tasked with the butchering, would finally come to see the truth.”

“Go on,” your uncle said when you paused. “Finish the story.”

“That idiotic boy,” you said. “He is still a child. Not a prince, and far from a priest, who would be trained in such arts. He was chosen only to prove his mettle, his loyalty to the High Priest, and I suppose he did as much, even going so far as to raise his dagger against me — though in the end, it came to nothing. In his nerves, he floundered his invocation, and so instead of Nikador, he inadvertently called upon Phainon. And unlike Nikador, who is silent even when they do grant our wishes, Phainon answered.

“He turned away the High Priest and my brother alike, finding intrigue only in me. I wonder if he thought I was a sacrifice meant for him, or if he understood that I was Nikador’s and simply did not care, or even delighted in it, thinking that by stealing my loyalty, he would have won yet another victory in that eternal rivalry of theirs. He offered me many things, uncle, in the pursuit of taking me for his own, but I refused them all, for I knew that his blessings would not come without a price. Yet I worried, too; those who reject the gods fare no better than those who embrace them.”

Your uncle’s fingers touched the hollow where his eye had once rested, and, pursing your lips, you let yours follow, lacing through his and squeezing. He had never told you what it was he had bargained his eye away for, had never told anyone, but it did not take a Sage or Cerces to know that whatever it was hadn’t been enough. That was how it was with gods, really; always unequal. Always tilted in their favor. Always lacking.

“I asked him to convince Nikador to take me as their bride. If he was unsuccessful, then my life would not change, or so I thought; if, by some miracle, he was triumphant, then I would be safe at their side, out of the reach of his eventual retribution. For a moment I thought he would refuse, but then he agreed, vanishing with a promise that we would meet again, and that was that,” you said.

“The priests were unhappy that their plan to be rid of you had failed,” your uncle completed. “But they could not kill you without risking Phainon’s wrath, so they came up with some excuse about his enmity with Nikador to banish you from the mountain forever.”

“Yes,” you said. “And so I came here, the only place that I have left. Do you think the Sages will accept me? I don’t demand to be treated like royalty; I know I am not that any longer. But I can read and write, and my mother tells me I am good with the young ones, so I could be a teacher, if there is need…or a recordkeeper, or anything, really, though if it is a more laborious task, I may need instruction, I am still not so good with my hands…”

“Listen to me,” your uncle said, placing his hands on your shoulders firmly. “I cannot promise anything, and neither can I lie to you. The other Sages are disconcerted by your presence, and I cannot blame them. Ever since you came here, it’s as if Phainon himself is with us, and divinity of such magnitude is enough to make even the greatest of men shudder. But you know I am always on your side, and as it happens, I am looking for a teaching assistant, so perhaps — if all goes well — something can be arranged.”

“Thank you,” you said, and if he were one for it, you would’ve embraced him again, as you had upon your arrival. Yet he would not appreciate it, you were sure, so all you did was gather his hands together and press your forehead to his knuckles, holding it there until you could be certain he understood what you meant by it.

Although you had fallen asleep with the white cat tucked under your chin, when you awoke the next morning, it was nowhere to be found. You should not have been surprised, as it was so well-kept and friendly that it surely must’ve belonged to someone, but you could not help the disappointment that crept into your throat. At your loneliest, it had come and, for a time, raised your spirits, so could you be blamed for your longing? Especially now, as you donned the austere garb of one of the Grove’s scholars, pulling the hood over your hair in keeping with their modest tradition. It was foreign, the stiff fabric, the dull coloring, and you longed for something familiar — the rumble of a purr, or the curve of your uncle’s smile, both which you would be denied until after you had passed the Sages’ trial.

Dawn in the Grove was the brightest time of day, and as you swept down the hall towards where the Sages awaited you, you paused by the largest window, narrowing your eyes at the sun peeking above the treetops. The sky wasn’t as vibrant here as it was in the mountains, every shade muted, everything soft around the edges as the morning climbed over the horizon, tinged with the fading lavender of the night. Perhaps it was because Cerces had secluded themselves from the rest of the gods, and so Phainon did not brand their dawns with the same violence as he did Nikador’s, in concession to their enduring neutrality, or maybe in fear of their rare condemnation.

“How, then, shall I sing of you?” you said, reciting the same hymn as had come to mind the day before, the one you must have learnt at some point, though you still could not recall exactly when. “For everywhere, Phainon, is beholden to you, over the mountains and across the isles, from high-sloping foothills to beaches canting seaward. Do I sing of how you were born a man amidst golden furrows, and how you then rose to become the joy of mankind itself? Hear this, Earth and wide Heaven, surely he will have his fragrant altar and precinct, and he shall be honored above all; as for me, I will carry his name close to my heart, and I will never cease to praise that white calamity, o shining Phainon, god of every dawn.”

You did not mean it as a prayer, only a way to taste the words, to roll them in your mouth, to chew on their softness, so unlike the hard, unyielding edges of Nikador’s many odes. They were beautiful, you had to admit as much, coalescing quietly in the corners of your ribcage and flickering like embers, warming you from within like a sunrise captured in miniature. 

A soft rustling drew your attention from the clouds to the sill of the window, where a bird had just landed. It was the same kind as the one you had saved in the bath, and when it did not shy away from your proffered index finger, you rubbed along the honeyed feathers underneath its eye. For a moment, it allowed you the indulgence, and then it hopped away, warbling out a song before taking off and flying back to, you supposed, wherever it had come from. You watched it go, your heart a little lighter for its visit, your shoulders a little less burdened, your mind a little more prepared for your meeting with the Sages.

It began, as many such meetings did, with the most important member speaking first. Although in theory all of the Sages were equal, they tended to hold the eldest of their ranks in the highest esteem, for in the Grove, an accumulation of years also meant one’s wisdom would have increased to match. In the present time, said eldest Sage was Medea, the Sixth Sage, a haughty woman with angular features and irises like frostbitten earth. 

“Niece of Anaxagoras, the Fourth Sage,” she began. “You are here to seek asylum in the Grove. If you pass the examination of the Sages, you will become the Fourth Sage’s teaching assistant, and he will aid you in acclimatizing to life in the Grove, which is surely nothing like the one you have led thus far.”

“Yes, great Sage,” you said, bowing as your uncle had instructed you to, demure and nigh-bashful. “I submit to your inquiries, and whatever it is that you may ask, I swear to answer with only the truth.”

“Only three Sages wish to question you today,” Medea said. “Stagira, the Third Sage, what do you ask of the girl?”

“Will you renounce your ties to Phainon and Nikador alike? If you stay in the Grove, then you will be a child of Cerces, and although Cerces is an affable goddess, they are also a jealous one. You must forget that you were born of the cult of the Nikador, and that you have been chosen by Phainon. Do you have it in you to cleanse yourself of your heritage and your claims, becoming a student anew?” Stagira said. He was a man, older than your uncle but a mere child beside Medea, and his expression was so lively you did not think that he was attempting to trick you, leading you to nod earnestly.

“Yes, great Sage. I will forget that either existed; the cult of Nikador has already expelled me, and Phainon…” you trailed off and shook your head. “I was never his devotee in the first place.”

“That is all,” he said. You glanced at your uncle, who inclined his chin the slightest angle, imperceptible to anyone who was not looking for it, prompting you to sigh. The first test was passed; two more and you were free.

“Apuleius, the Fifth Sage, what do you ask of the girl?” Medea said. He was nearer to her in age, and there was a scar running down his misshapen nose, ending right above the faint line of his mouth. You could tell from even the way he walked that he was less affable than Stagira, but you were used to prickly, thorny men, for they were a common breed whence you hailed, and so you did not shy back as he must’ve liked you to.

“This scar on my face,” Apuleius said, pointing at it for emphasis. “What does your first instinct blame it on?”

War, you thought to yourself. Violence. An altercation. Someone who tried to hurt you, who tried to kill you, who tried to tear your face apart, so that you resembled the two-faced Janus for their efforts.

“An experiment with unforeseen results,” you said. Apuleius regarded you carefully, and then he laughed, clapping your uncle on the shoulder.

“She is quick to learn. Your influence, no doubt, Anaxagoras,” he said. “If a daughter of strife can think through her words so carefully, then all hope may yet not be lost.”

“You know better than to give another credit for one’s victory, Apuleius,” your uncle said. 

“You’re right,” he said. “Well done, girl. And no, although I wish the scar’s origin was so mysterious, the real story is far more embarrassing. I simply fell from my horse and landed face-first onto a particularly sharp stone.”

You winced. “I am glad you suffered no worse injuries, great Sage.”

“It may have left me a little frenzied in the years to follow, but then, those of the Grove always are of such a temperament, so what difference does it make?” he said. “Alright then, boy. Ask her your questions and let us be done with this affair.”

“The Seventh Sage,” Medea said, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards. “Socrippe. What do you ask of the girl?”

The man you had met yesterday in the baths was unrecognizable, his face covered with bandages, a formidable gleam in eyes, the whites of which were shot through with enraged crimson. The other Sages murmured to themselves, and you, too, swallowed nervously, for you had not expected him to be in such a state, not when he had been perfectly fine at your last meeting.

“How was I injured?” he said.

“I am not sure, great Sage,” you said.

“You lie,” he said, and then he was jabbing his index finger at you. “This wicked woman attacked me in our own bath yesterday! I had gone to wash after excusing myself from the debate, and she was so infuriated by my company that clawed at me with her fingernails until she drew blood. She is no dove that we can tame, she is a beast that will hunt all in this Grove down if we let her stay!”

“Is this true?” Medea said sharply. You shook your head.

“No, there must be some mistake, that’s not — that’s not what happened, I didn’t — he approached me, and I did not attack him, I only ran—” you stammered, your composure crumbling at their stony glares.

“You’re accusing a Sage of lying?” Medea said, her every word a self-contained avalanche. “He has taken an oath in the name of Cerces, and he will not break it! Need I remind you who is the guest here?”

“I should’ve known,” Apuleius said, clicking his tongue. “You can dress a wolf in the skin of a lamb, but you can’t make it merciful for long. I am ashamed that I was fooled for even a moment.”

“You may renounce Nikador, but it seems he will never renounce you,” Stagira said.

“I didn’t attack him!” you said.

“I know my niece, and she would never do such a thing,” your uncle said. “There must be some alternate explanation or confusion.”

“So you are calling me confused, Anaxagoras?” Socrippe said. “Careful, or you will be replaced. There are plenty who can do your job just as well as you.”

“Now, Socrippe, you don’t have the authority to declare that,” Medea warned. “It would come to a vote, and do not think that you have the power to sway us all against him.”

 “But as for the matter of the girl…” Apuleius prompted.

You thought there would be hatred in Medea’s mien, but to your shock, she seemed a little sad, clasping her hands together and closing her eyes. Maybe it was that she knew Socrippe had broken his oath and mourned her helplessness in proving the truth, or maybe it was that she only regretted having to give such horrible news when she had surely prepared for a happier occasion. Although the latter was far more probable, the thought of the former comforted you as she clapped once, so you chose to believe in it.

“All those in favor of sending her to Okhema, raise your hands,” she said.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. The rest of the Sages looked at your uncle, at dear Anaxagoras, who clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead with his arms pinned to his sides. They already had a clear majority, so it wasn’t as if they needed his vote, yet you sensed they would not move forth until he made a decision one way or another.

You turned around so that you did not have to witness it, and a minute later, Medea clapped again. You did not know how your uncle had voted; it was like that cat, really, the one you had had in your childhood, the one that the High Priest had taken from you. It didn’t matter whether he said yes or no — what mattered was that it was done, concluded, and irreversibly so.

“The motion is passed. Girl, leave the Grove at once; if you are prudent, you will go to Okhema and tell the Council of Elders that Medea sent you, but never again shall you return here. You are not welcome any longer.”

They were kind enough to return your pony, along with some food and a letter to one of the Elders of Okhema, Caenis, written by Medea herself. You did not wait for your uncle to come and wish you farewell; you did not think he would, anyways. The two of you were not so dissimilar, after all.

Your pony did not complain about being told to trot down the road, going merrily, even flicking his toes as he went along. You were glad that he was happy, for then at least one of you was, and you allowed him the length of the rein to do with as he pleased, eventually urging him to canter, then gallop, until the trees thinned and you had left the forest behind for good.

“Miss! Miss, wait!”

You were ambling through a field of barley when you heard a boy shouting after you. You swiveled in your seat, at first presuming your mind to be playing tricks on you, but then you saw him, sprinting through the resplendent sea of crops with a ball in his hand. His hair was a pale shock on his head, and when he caught up to you, his amber eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting. You halted but did not dismount, for there was foreboding in the air, and although you were loath to leave the child behind, you could not help but think that there was some merit to the notion that he was the very source of your apprehension.

“There you are,” he said, his hands on his thighs as he huffed for breath. “I’ve been looking for you. You disappeared for a little while — it worried me!”

“Do I know you?” you said, as politely as you could. “Perhaps you think I am someone else.”

The boy’s smile did not drop. “I would not mistake you for anyone. We’ve met a few times."

“I’m sure we haven’t,” you said, subtly pressing your heels into your pony’s sides, telling him to walk on, albeit without any speed. 

“Oh! That’s my mistake,” he said. “Wait, wait, do you recognize me now?”

Right before you, he aged decades in only a second, leaving him a hunched old man leaning on a branch, his face split with a broad smile, pink and gummy. Your eyes widened, and although everything in you demanded you flee, you were paralyzed as your old companion waved a wrinkled hand at you.

“Or maybe this is better?” he said, and then he was melting into the form of a white cat, chasing his tail playfully before, in a burst of feathers, turning into a songbird with gold around his neck and eyes. 

“No,” you said, shaking your head furiously, clenching your fists so hard you were surprised your palms did not bleed from the force with which your nails dug into them. “No, it can’t be. Say it isn’t so. Please, say it isn’t so. You can’t be—”

“It is so, o sacrifice!” he said, springing into the air fully formed, a tall man in handsome armor, his eyes still that same burning shade of dawn, his hair still as white as jasmine.

“Phainon,” you said. He beamed at you.

“Well done,” he said. “Yes, it is me. I have been keeping careful watch over you, you know. Why do you think you were never confronted by bandits or bad weather? Ah, but attacking that Sage put me in a lot of trouble with Cerces, so maybe you ought to forget about asking for any blessings and begin to consider how you might repay me.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” you said. “You aren’t Nikador, I haven’t asked for your protection, so there’s — there’s no need for you to give it! Leave at once, I beg of you!”

“Actually,” Phainon said, although he visibly deflated at your repudiation, his shoulders sagging and his eyes growing large, nearly watery with defeat, which was a ridiculous expression on anyone, let alone a fully-fledged god, “I have something to tell you. I think that I can grant your wish, if it is still what you want.”

“What?” you said, your panic replaced with a momentary inquisitiveness.

“Nikador,” he said. “Do you still…desire them? Because if it is so, then listen to me carefully — I have discovered that the stories of their battle-hardened heart are not entirely complete. The truth is as follows: once before, many ages ago, they, too, knew what it was to love.”

taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @urrluverrr @itseightamineedsleep

[azzishands]

Fan of a fan - Chapter five

Paige x Azzi

Word count: 11.8k

Warnings: sexual content

Author’s note: I just really want to stress that the characters in this story are NOT a reflection of the real people they are based off of. There’s gonna be mentions of family members from now on and I just wanna point out that I do not know these people, so just keep that in mind, that these are fictional characters that just share the same name as the real life people. With that being said, hope you like it!<3

—

Azzi was walking out of the airport with her bags in her hands, looking for a sign of the blonde woman who was gonna pick her up. 

Two weeks had gone by fast. Azzi had been busy with shooting and Paige with ending the North America tour. They had started to exchange a few messages during the two weeks, which then led to a couple of phone calls, which in turn led to multiple facetimes. It just came naturally to them. 

It started with Paige sending Azzi a photo of the band watching Ricochet, telling her that she had convinced them to watch it. And then Azzi called her, wanting to see what exact dates she should set aside in her schedule for Minnesota. And eventually, Paige facetimed Azzi a random night after a concert, just talking about everything and nothing. And after that, it had become some sort of routine to talk or facetime every day.

Paige had quickly learned during the last two weeks that Azzi Fudd was a very calm person in general, but way more goofy than she would first imagine. She would catch Azzi do random TikTok dances in the middle of their facetime sessions, or sing with a weird voice in another language. Her favorite moment was when Azzi was baking cookies one time on facetime, and she started to sing one of Paige’s songs out of nowhere, just belting it out, while she was taking the cookies out of the oven. Azzi had not even realized what she was doing until she saw Paige smiling like a fool on her phone. 

“Oh shit,” Azzi had slipped out, covering her mouth instinctively. 

“That sounded really good,” Paige had teased her. “You should follow us to Europe and be our background singer.”

“Shut up,” the actress blushed. 

Azzi on the other hand, had learned how extremely loving Paige is towards everyone around her. The way she treats her bandmates as not just her band and friends, but as her family. The way she treats her fans so respectfully. And the way she’s always trying to be the best version of herself, and always gets disappointed in herself when she feels like she could’ve done better. That’s another thing she had caught on to - the way Paige was afraid of doing anything wrong.

“It’s impossible to see every single one in a crowd,” Azzi tried to reassure Paige one time on a phone call after Paige had accidentally not high-fived a fan when the band had exited a restaurant. A fan had taken a video of it, pointing out how Paige had ignored the fan.

“But it really looks like I actively ignored her,” Paige sighed. “I should try and find her, see if I can fix some free tickets to a concert or something.”

“Paige,” Azzi had said so softly. “It was a high-five. I promise you the fan was just excited to see you all. If she’s really a fan of yours she knows that you would never purposefully ignore her high-five.”

“I guess so,” the singer had said. “Thank you.”

And now here they were, finally getting to see each other again. 

According to the text message Paige had sent earlier, Azzi should be looking for a white pickup truck. And it didn’t take long until she spotted one, along with the blonde waving at her. 

“Hey you,” Paige hugged the actress tightly. “How was the flight?”

Azzi greeted the blonde by melting into the familiar arms before Paige took Azzi’s bags and put them in the car. 

“It’s cold here,” the actress stated and turned up the heat in the car as Paige drove the car out of the airport’s parking lot. 

“I told you to bring a winter coat,” Paige chuckled while driving. 

“I know,” Azzi groaned. 

“It’s alright, I got an extra at home.”

At last, they arrived at Paige’s apartment in downtown Minneapolis. It was a very lowkey apartment building who you would never guess a rich famous singer would live in. The inside of the building on the other hand, was definitely something a rich famous singer would live in.

“Welcome to me,” Paige said and opened the door for her guest. “Want a tour?” 

The apartment consisted of three big bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, a living room, a small home movie theatre, an office and a cozy home studio. Azzi peeked in every corner of the apartment, trying to spot all the small things that made the place Paige’s. Like the photographs of her family in the bedroom, and the Grammy standing so proudly in the studio, and the little stuffed husky in the movie theatre. But her favorite thing she saw was the bookshelf in the office, which was filled with all kinds of books. There was something very intimate about walking through Paige’s place. Maybe because she’s a very private person to the public, which makes it a contrast to how Azzi was getting to know her, getting to see every little corner of her home. 

“Damn, this place is huge,” Azzi said as they finished the tour of the place.

“Yeah it’s spacious,” Paige nodded. “But I just felt like I wanted a place where my family could stay when they’re here. And it’s convenient when the band is here as well, to be able to be in one place, you know?”

“I thought your family lived here in Minnesota?”

“My dad and my stepmom and my little brother live here, but my mom and two younger siblings live in Montana,” the singer explained. 

“Oh I see,” the actress said. “Are you close with your siblings?”

“Yeah, I try to see them as much as I can, but me and my mom have a little more… strained relationship than me and my dad, so I see my little brother Drew, who lives here, a lot more than Ryan and Lauren. But I try to fly them out here often, and have a lot of sleepovers and stuff,” Paige explained further. 

“That’s cute,” the actress smiled warmly. “Are they much younger?”

“Yeah, they’re all almost teenagers,” Paige said. “But I still see them as my babies.”

“I get what you mean. I have two younger brothers who are in college now, but I still see them as the small kids who used to run around in the house playing tag all day,” Azzi said.

“You’re the oldest too?” Paige asked.

“I mean, yeah, but also no,” Azzi said and scratched the back of her head. “My dad is not my biological dad, but he’s the one who raised me and everything. I don’t have any contact with my biological dad, but I do have an older brother from him. We don’t talk that much but we’re cool. So yeah, I’m the oldest sibling in my house, but not, biologically or whatever.”

“Yeah, family is kinda complicated sometimes,” the singer said with a sigh. 

Azzi nodded and hummed in agreement. 

“Anyway, I was thinking that we were gonna cook something for lunch,” Paige said. 

“Cook? Do you know how to cook?” Azzi asked.

“Um, yes? I’m an excellent chef, thank you very much,” the singer stated with sass. “Do you not?”

“I consider myself much more of an eater than a cooker,” Azzi replied. “But I’ll watch you.”

“Nah, you’re gonna cook with me, you don’t have a choice miss Fudd,” Paige protested and grabbed her hand to drag her to the kitchen. 

Even though Azzi’s really not into cooking at all, she secretly loved the fact that Paige wanted them to cook something together, and she couldn’t wait to see Paige doing her thing in the kitchen.

“So, I was thinking we’re gonna do lasagna,” Paige brought her hands together as if she’s some kind of motivational speaker while Azzi sat by the kitchen island, looking at her amused. “Do you like that?”

“I love lasagna,” Azzi nodded. 

“Okay good, so you can start by chopping up some onion and garlic,” the singer instructed and took out a cutting board and a knife for the actress. 

“And what are you gonna do?” 

“I’m gonna watch and make sure you don’t hurt yourself,” Paige teased. 

In the end, Paige actually had to watch over Azzi when she was cutting the onions, because she did not have the right technique at all.

“Oh my God, have you never done this before?” Paige almost shouted at the actress as she walked over to her and put the knife down. “You’re a danger to yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m not that bad,” Azzi argued. 

“You literally are. Here,” the blonde took a step towards the actress and stood behind her, wrapping her arms around her body to put her hands gently on top of Azzi’s.

“Now let me guide you,” she said softly. Her head was resting on Azzi’s right shoulder, and it was really distracting for the actress to focus on cutting the onions when Paige’s face was that close to her own. 

“See?” the singer said as she guided Azzi’s hands with the right motions. “How much easier it is when you do it like this.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Azzi said, not having paid attention at all, just leaning into the feeling of the singer behind her, almost holding her. 

Paige could tell Azzi didn’t pay attention. So she put the knife down, still having her hands on top of Azzi’s, and just stood there for a few seconds. She let go of Azzi’s hands and instead wrapped her arms around the actress’ stomach softly and nuzzled her head into the actress’ neck. Being hugged from behind by Paige Bueckers was instantly one of Azzi’s favorite feelings.

Azzi relaxed into the singer’s body, leaning back with her head, turning it towards the blonde hair and inhaled the scent of Paige’s shampoo. 

“Fuck it, maybe we should just order something and then take a nap,” Paige murmured into Azzi’s skin, giving her goosebumps from feeling the singer’s breath on her neck.

“Hmm, that sounds great, but I don’t want to ruin your plans,” Azzi said. “Besides, now I really want to eat lasagna.”

“Are you sure?” Paige leaned back from the hug to look at Azzi, still with her arms wrapped around her.

“Yes,” Azzi smiled brightly. Their faces were so close that their noses were almost touching. Those piercing blue eyes always did something to Azzi. They’re completely irresistible. She’s certain that if Paige would ask her for anything and look at her like that with those eyes, Azzi would not be able to say no, ever.

Paige licked her lips out of habit, and Azzi’s eyes darted down. This time it’s Paige who leans in. She stopped just before their lips met and looked at the actress, then lightly pressed her lips onto Azzi’s. 

Azzi sighed contentedly into the gentle kiss. She carefully turned around and wrapped her own arms around Paige’s neck, as they kissed once again, this time more firm. Paige’s hands were on Azzi’s lower back, pulling her closer. The singer lightly swiped her tongue on the actress’ bottom lip, asking for entrance, and Azzi opened up her mouth to meet Paige’s tongue with her own. The butterflies were going wild in Azzi’s stomach at the sensation. She could easily make out with Paige for hours if she could. 

That’s why Azzi broke the kiss abruptly and way too quickly for Paige’s liking. “If we don’t stop now I don’t think we’ll ever finish the lasagna,” she breathed, resting her forehead against Paige’s. 

“We don’t have to,” Paige smirked.

“Paige,” Azzi rolled her eyes with a big grin and gently pushed the singer away. 

Paige just smiled and gave Azzi a quick peck on her cheek before she took the knife in her hand and started cutting the onions and garlic.

One hour later, the lasagna was in the oven. Paige had done most of the work, but Azzi had been right beside her, helping as much as she could without being a hazard to her environment. That included stirring the meat, placing the lasagna sheets when they layered it, and sprinkle mozzarella on top. Oh, and putting it in the oven of course. 

Now they were laying side by side in Paige’s bed, having to wait another forty minutes for it to be done. The plan was to take a nap while they were waiting, since Azzi was a little tired from the flight, but none of them closed their eyes. How could they, when they were right next to each other.

“You can sleep with your eyes open?” Paige joked, as she turned to lay on her side, facing the actress. 

Azzi turned to face Paige as well. 

“Guess I’m not that tired anymore,” Azzi said.

It’s only their knees that are touching, but Paige could feel it through her whole body. It seemed that the actress could never be close enough. 

“Tell me about your dreams,” Paige said. 

“My dreams?” 

“Yeah, in life.”

“I wanna win an academy award for best actress. I want to star in a series. And I know it’s a bit cringe maybe, but I want to be a part of a film remake of a classic,” Azzi mused out loud. 

“All of it sounds like valid dreams, and really doable ones too,” Paige smiled. “It’s just a matter of time, really.”

“I don’t know,” Azzi blushed shyly. “I’m trying not to stress about it, but I feel like I’m not that young anymore and the pressure is getting to me for every day that goes by in this industry.”

“You mean you’re not a teenager anymore,” Paige stated. 

“Yeah, exactly. The age of people who are breaking through in the industry is becoming younger and younger, and even if I’m only twenty-two, it feels like I’m a middle aged woman compared to these new sixteen-year-olds, judging by the media. And don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful for being where I’m at and how I got here, and I know that my career doesn’t have to end just because I’m getting older, but it’s just that… feeling.”

“I get that,” Paige said. “I think it’s a bit different in the music industry, since we don’t have to be a certain age for a role, or have a certain look. But there’s definitely some kind of pressure to attain accomplishments as young as you can.”

“Right? Even though it really doesn’t matter, it's an underlying incitement in the whole industry that seeps through in how everyone treats you and looks at you. Everything feels so rushed,” the actress agreed. “But what about your dreams?”

Paige’s eyes wandered for a bit, thinking to herself what she’s gonna say.

“Hmm, I think my dream is to live a peaceful life, continuing to write songs, playing with the band, but not always being the center of attention I guess. And maybe start a family one day,” Paige said at last. 

“Oh wow, my dreams were really shallow compared to yours,” Azzi laughed. “Was it ever a dream to win a grammy?”

“Not really, I’m not that award oriented,” Paige told her. “But I’m super grateful for it, now that I have one, it’s something I’m really proud of. It’s like a statue for how strong our bond is in the band. At least that’s what it stands for for me.”

Azzi smiled brightly. “You’re so humble.”

Paige shrugged and tucked away a strand of hair that got in Azzi’s face behind her ear, her fingertips brushing against the actress’ cheek. Azzi shivered by the faint touch. 

“Do you judge me for wanting to win an Oscar?” Azzi asked honestly. 

“No, of course not,” Paige immediately answered. “Music is too subjective for me, one might like it, one might not, it depends on who sits in the jury after all. I guess it goes the same with movies, in a way, but not with acting. At least not in my opinion. It can be a really bad movie, but the acting can still be good. Acting is a skill, and there is good and bad acting.”

“I guess so,” Azzi mumbled. 

“I like that you’re ambitious,” the singer told her. “You’re a hard working woman with big dreams you’re not afraid to chase. There’s like nothing more attractive than that.” 

Azzi let out a puff of air, feeling her cheeks starting to heat up. 

“I can think of a few things more attractive than that,” she said as she looked into those blue eyes intently.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Paige whispered back.

“Like, being a humble superstar,” she said. “And, I don’t know, having… blue eyes. And blonde hair. And a really cute smile, with the biggest heart, and even bigger hands.” 

“Hands?” Paige laughed and looked at her hand in front of her, flipping it back and forth, inspecting it. “You’re into hands?”

“No, just yours,” Azzi said and put her hand on Paige’s. 

“Your hand is almost as big as mine,” Paige stated as they’re having palm against palm. 

In the blink of an eye, Azzi intertwined their fingers, rolled them over and straddled Paige while pressing her hand down onto the mattress, using her other hand to press down Paige’s other wrist.

“Oh,” Paige chuckled in the new position she’s suddenly found herself in. 

Azzi leaned down and kissed Paige on the lips. It's strange, how their bodies just seem to flow together as if they were one. As if they weren’t meant to be anywhere else but on each other. 

Paige got her hands free from Azzi’s and let them stroke her sides, earning a soft grunt from the woman on top of her. She let them go further down Azzi’s body, down to her hips and then on her butt. 

The actress just tried to keep holding herself up with her arms on either side of Paige’s head, but the feeling of her hands on her butt makes Azzi just wanna melt down and collapse.

Azzi moved her hands to Paige’s chest, gently palming her breasts. The singer groaned while her hips jerked up a little, which in return made Azzi let out a soft moan. She started to grind down on Paige, which resulted in Paige raising her hips a little bit, helping her movements with her hands.

They’re both panting into each other’s mouth while still dancing with their tongues. Paige moved her hands to Azzi’s back, running them up and down, then caressing her sides, making Azzi feel tingles all over her body. God, Azzi loved feeling Paige’s hands on her. 

The actress started to kiss down Paige’s neck, licking and biting everywhere on the space she’s given when Paige leaned back with her head. Azzi felt tempted to leave a mark, but decided against it and moved onto the collarbone, licking along it. Paige was writhing under her touch, and Azzi could hear low whimpers coming out of her mouth. 

Paige was going insane. The kisses on her neck, the licks along her collarbone, suddenly hearing Azzi moan in her ear? It’s all just too much for her to handle. She felt as if she could come undone right there and then. Her body was moving on its own by now, just reacting to whatever Azzi Fudd was doing to her.

And then Azzi moved her leg to settle it in between Paige’s, and suddenly there’s pressure on the one place that’s been aching. Paige arched her back from the surprise and slightly gasped. Azzi’s gasping too because when Paige arched her back, she bent her knees and suddenly Azzi was practically riding her thigh. 

The actress brought her mouth to Paige’s once again, and kissed her passionately. Their clothes were still fully on, but their hands were beneath the fabric of their shirts. Paige’s fingertips dragged along Azzi’s abs while Azzi’s fingertips were caressing Paige’s sides. 

Paige can feel something start to build in the pit of her stomach. Her boxers are absolutely soaking and the stimulation she’s feeling from Azzi’s thigh is unbelievable. But it’s Azzi’s kissing that’s getting her closer and closer. The way she’s kissing her with so much passion and need. 

The singer moved her hands down Azzi’s stomach to the hem of her pants and was just about to undo them, when the alarm for the lasagna set off. 

Azzi broke the kiss and collapsed on top of Paige, letting out a frustrated groan. 

“Oh my God,” she murmured.

Paige wrapped her arms around the relaxed Azzi, and she could feel her heartbeat beat as fast as her own against her ribcage. 

“I know,” Paige whispered, equally as frustrated. “Talk about bad timing.”

“I was close,” Azzi confessed in a whisper as she removed herself from the singer. 

Paige smiled like a fool hearing that, sitting up on the bed as well.

“I’ll take care of it later,” she said and rubbed the actress’ back as comfort. “I promise.”

“You better,” Azzi looked at Paige with a serious look, and Paige could only laugh. 

Something about them already felt so familiar and domestic, and she has a feeling the rest of the remaining time together will only develop their connection.

—

It was the second to last day together in Minnesota for the two women. Azzi had been there now for two days, having two more days to enjoy together. She would’ve wanted to stay longer with Paige, but it had required a lot of planning and detailed scheduling for her agent Caroline to arrange four whole days off. Azzi couldn’t possibly ask for more when Caroline had done everything and a little bit more to make it possible. 

Yet here she was, wanting to ask Caroline if she could just stay one more day in Minnesota. Of course she knew it would never work, but in a desperate attempt to prolong her visit, she sent a text. 

Azzi Fudd: There’s no way I can get one more day off, is there?

Caroline Ducharme: No honey, I don’t think there is. You have a movie to film.

Azzi Fudd: Figured. Just wanted to double check. Thank you Caroline<3

She put away her phone and looked over to the sleeping blonde right beside her. Azzi didn’t hesitate to scoot closer and put her arms around her. She loved being the big spoon just as much as being the little. 

The last two days had been simply amazing. Azzi hadn’t really known what to expect before she got there, but she hadn’t expected them to be so… coupley with each other so fast. It came naturally of course, but when she thought about it, it was almost strange how natural and easy everything had flown between them, considering the limited time they spent together prior. 

It was the way their fingers would brush against each other every time they were beside one another. Or the way they would look at each other like they didn’t need words to communicate. Or the way Paige would just kiss her out of nowhere, so innocently, so full of affection. Or the way Azzi would curl up next to Paige when they watched a movie, and play with her hair. It was the way everything was said and done with so apparent yearning for each other. As if they had waited long enough already to not care about being obvious with what they want.

She thoroughly enjoyed it. And the fact that it all was happening with the Paige Bueckers? Sometimes Azzi had the urge to pinch herself to see if it’s all just a dream, because it was really too good to be true. 

She was in awe of the way Paige carried herself, but also just the way she looked at the world. She was always humble, never took anything for granted and did everything with love and respect. Azzi looked up to the singer in so many different ways already. 

Paige started to stir in Azzi’s arms, and she turned around and lazily swung her arm around the actress’ waist.

“Good morning,” Azzi whispered, having the blonde’s head under her own.

“Morning,” the newly awake Paige mumbled back into Azzi’s chest. She nuzzled her head closer to the actress’ neck, wanting to be even closer. Azzi just held her tighter and gave her head a peck.

“What time is it?” the singer asked.

“It’s 9 am.”

“I could set camp right here for the rest of my life,” Paige mumbled sleepily. 

“I think you’re sleep talking now” Azzi stated amused. 

“I’ve never been more awake,” Paige replied back and sighed contentedly in Azzi’s arms. 

She loved the way Azzi held her. She loved that it felt so safe to be big, small, strong, weak, confident and insecure with the actress. In the past, she would often meet girls who only wanted her confident and dominant side, and even though she was all that, she’s not only that. With Azzi, it feels like all of her fits in. Nothing is too feminine or too masculine, Azzi just sees her as Paige, and that’s enough. Being herself felt so easy with Azzi.

“I’m not used to being held like this,” Paige confessed. “But I love it.”

“I can’t imagine that, you’re very holdable,” Azzi stroked the blonde hair and started to massage her scalp softly. “You’re just a baby.”

“I’m older than you, you’re the baby,” Paige protested. 

“Shh my baby,” Azzi cooed and just kept on stroking her hair as if she was comforting her. “Don’t start crying now.”

Paige would normally keep the bicker going, but not this time. Hearing Azzi call her her baby did something to her, even if it was play pretend. Feeling this way shouldn’t be possible when they’ve barely known each other for a month, but here she was, feeling big feelings for the actress already. Hearing that possessive pronoun made her heart flutter. 

The singer leaned away a little from Azzi’s embrace to look her in the eyes.

“I really appreciate you being here Azzi,” Paige said dead serious.

“I really appreciate being here,” Azzi answered. “With you.” 

“Kinda don’t want you to leave tomorrow,” the singer mumbled before nestling her head under Azzi’s head once more. 

“Me neither,” Azzi breathed, her heart beating fast at the way Paige had just looked at her, so full of affection, so full of admiration and… care. 

Yesterday had been a day full of adventures. Paige had been driving them around, showing Minneapolis. They had been shopping, going to a museum, eaten at a fancy restaurant at night, then gone to a movie theatre to catch some random movie. Every single second spent together the last 48 hours had been simply amazing. There was never a dull moment with the two together. Azzi felt like she could do laundry with Paige, and it would somehow be fun. Paige felt like she’s never experienced Minneapolis the way she had the last two days with Azzi. She had never realized how romantic the city really is. 

Paige’s favorite moment was when they were at the Minneapolis institute of art, and Azzi always dragged her to another painting or photography and said: “Look, look, this one’s really cool. I like the colors here. And this one! Oh my God, how do you even capture this? Kinda gives me the creeps but in a good way.” It was so cute how Azzi was so excited to show Paige all things she found beautiful. It made Paige feel special, like Azzi wanted to share all the beauty in this world with her, eagerly. 

Her reminiscing came to an abrupt end when her phone started to ring, and Azzi opened her arms to let her go so she could answer the phone.

“Morning kid,” her dad answered the phone.

“Hey Dad."

“I know you said you’re gonna be busy having company these four days, but Drew is really impatient and he wants to play some basketball with you like right now. How about you and your company come over tomorrow night and eat dinner with us?” he asked. 

“I don’t know…” Paige looked over at Azzi who was looking at her curiously. “Let me think about it and I’ll call you back.”

“Yes, think about it,” Bob, her dad, said. 

They hung up and Azzi rose from the bed and started to get dressed. 

“Your dad?” she asked while putting on some pants.

“Yeah, he um… he kinda invited us to eat dinner with them tomorrow night,” Paige scratched the back of her head. 

“Oh,” Azzi stopped what she was doing. “I mean, I don’t mind. Do you want to?”

“The question is, do you want to?” Paige chuckled. “It’s our last moment together before you gotta fly home, you wanna spend it with my family?”

“As long as you’re there, I don’t see why not,” Azzi smiled. 

Paige’s lips curved into a smile. “Really?”

“Really,” Azzi nodded. “It’ll be fun to meet Drew too.”

“He wanted to play basketball with me, that’s why we even got invited,” Paige scoffed. “Dummy.”

“You know, I played basketball in High school, and could’ve gone to college if I wanted to” Azzi said. “If he wants to play with a real hooper instead of… you.”

Paige let her jaw drop in disbelief. “Excuse me, I also played in High school and was close to being recruited, but then our band started to take off so I didn’t pursue that career.”

“Oh really?” Azzi challenged. “Did you also get to meet Steph Curry for being such a great three-point shooter?”

“Um, no?” Paige said with an attitude. “I was more of an unselfish player, letting my teammates shine.”

“You mean they carried you.”

“Nah what the hell is this,” Paige protested. “Tomorrow imma show you videos of me playing and then I dare you to say that again.”

“Or, we can just play against each other and settle it that way,” Azzi suggested. “That is, unless you know you can’t win against me and would rather have me watch a video.”

“Bruh, you’re on,” Paige said. “Get ready to be humbled tomorrow.”

“Likewise,” Azzi said with a smirk. 

The two women got dressed and hopped into the car to drive to a “place with a view”, as Paige had called it. They had packed two sandwiches for lunch and had put on warm clothes for some light hiking. Apparently Paige loved to be outside in nature. 

“This is like my favorite spot ever,” Paige said as they had parked the car somewhere near a forest and had started walking. 

It was still winter and a bit chilly in the air. Their boots left prints in the snow and Azzi could see steam from her breathing through her mouth as they walked. The sun was shining, and the snow on the ground was glittering all around them. It was truly beautiful.

“Wow, it’s so still out here,” Azzi said as they had walked up the hill to a more sparse part of the forest. They had walked so much upwards that they now could see the city from a distance, from above. It could’ve might as well have been a ski slope, the view, the snow, the altitude and the lack of trees around them. 

Paige sat down by a bench that was thoughtfully placed where you could see the view the best. Azzi joined right beside her.

“I love to hear the nature around me, like the birds or the wind. Or just the silence. God, I love hearing the silence,” Paige told Azzi while looking out over the view. “I used to come here a lot when I had fought with my mom growing up.”

Azzi looked at Paige with a sad smile. “What about now?”

Paige’s blue eyes met her brown ones with that, and gave her a small smile. “Not that often anymore. Now I go here to just wind down in nature, not necessarily to escape anything.”

“It really is a breathtaking view from here,” Azzi said, still looking right at Paige. The singer nodded slowly, holding the eye contact carefully, not wanting to break it. 

“You like being in nature?” Paige asked. 

“I do, although I’m not hiking or anything, but I love to be outside in general. My grandparents have a cabin near a lake, so we used to be out on the water, fishing or swimming, and it’d be the best time of summer really,” Azzi reminisced. 

“That sounds like the best kind of summer,” Paige said. 

“It was,” Azzi nodded with a smile. “But I don’t make that much time now to be out in nature, unfortunately.”

“It’s a bit hard to do that in LA perhaps,” Paige mused. “You like LA?”

“I do,” Azzi answered. “It’s convenient and Hollywood is where the industry’s at. But I wouldn’t mind spending a year or two somewhere else, like going to a foreign country and film a foreign movie.”

“What kind of country are you interested in? I can be on the lookout on the Europe tour for you,” Paige asked. 

“Somewhere with a totally different culture than here. And aesthetically pleasing views, or beautiful nature. With lots of history to it,” Azzi mused out loud. 

“That’s… a lot,” Paige laughed. “Not very specific. I think you would like most countries.” 

“I haven’t traveled a lot, because I’ve been working mostly, so I wouldn’t really know,” Azzi admitted. 

“You should come to one of our concerts on the tour,” Paige said. 

“You’re inviting me everywhere,” Azzi laughed. “I’m gonna get fired for neglecting my job.”

“Is that a yes?” Paige smirked. 

“No,” Azzi snorted. 

“Is it a no?”

“...No.”

“I’ll see you in Europe then,” Paige said with a grin, knowing that Azzi most definitely wanted to come see her on tour. 

Azzi just rolled her eyes with a smile, gently shoving Paige’s arm. 

They just sat like that, next to each other, looking out at the view for the next few hours. The conversation flowed effortlessly like always. 

The rest of the day was spent in Paige’s apartment. Azzi had to read through her script and have a meeting online, and while Azzi worked, Paige cooked dinner for them. 

“I could get used to this,” Azzi said as she entered the kitchen after having ended her meeting, and saw the homemade meal of pasta alfredo. It smelled incredible.

Paige raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, getting spoiled like this,” she nodded and sat down at the table. “Having a private chef.”

Paige lit some candles and put on some chill jazz music in the background. 

“Romantic,” Azzi commented. 

“It’s our last dinner together, just us,” Paige shrugged and sat down across Azzi. “I wanted it to be special.”

And it was special. It was special in the sense that it felt like a date between a couple who had been together for years. The way they would share funny stories from their childhood with each other and laugh so loudly. But mostly it was the fact that there was no nervousness surrounding them. It felt safe. It felt familiar already.

Paige could see it. She could see them in the future, just like this, spending their days together like this one - Azzi rehearsing her script, having online meetings in one room, Paige being in the other doing her thing, cooking for them, to at last join together for dinner. It was a vision she was steadily desiring more and more. Just more of Azzi in general in everyday life. In the big and small things.

Azzi was secure in their newfound connection. She didn’t doubt for a moment that they were on the same page with each other. She found Paige very consistent with her words and actions towards her, she felt no need to talk about where they were headed or clarify what they were doing. She felt safe in the unknown with Paige. And it meant everything.

—

“You ready?” Paige asked as she buttoned the last of her white button up shirt. 

Their final day together had arrived, and the two women were getting ready for the Buecker’s family dinner. 

“Yeah,” Azzi replied, giving herself one last look in the mirror. 

“Wow,” Paige said as she turned around to see the actress. Azzi was wearing a long black bodycon dress that was hugging her figure tightly with an open back. She had her curly hair down with silver earrings, necklace and rings. 

“You look absolutely stunning,” Paige blinked, not believing what she was seeing. 

“You think?” Azzi smiled innocently and gave a little twirl for Paige to see the whole thing. “Is it too much for a family dinner?”

“No,” Paige answered immediately, not being able to tear her eyes away from the other woman. “You should definitely wear that.”

“You know, you don’t look so bad yourself,” Azzi said and walked up to the blonde, wrapping her arms around her neck. Paige’s hands instinctively landed on Azzi’s lower back, pulling her in.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Kinda starting to regret us going somewhere where I can’t touch you like I want to,” Azzi whispered, her eyes hooded with mischief. 

Paige could feel her knees go weak with that. Azzi’s eyes were driving Paige mad, the way she was looking at her like she couldn’t wait to devour her. 

“Believe me, I’m gonna try and make it a short dinner,” Paige swallowed hard. 

Azzi just laughed and embraced the singer. “You know I packed my bag because I have to go straight to the airport afterwards.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Paige just said and hugged her tightly. 

The car ride to Paige’s dad’s house was unbearable for Azzi. The way Paige was gripping the steering wheel in a white button up shirt and a jacket stirred something inside of her. She was practically squirming in the passenger seat. All she could think about was unbuttoning it, and feeling Paige’s chain against her skin, amongst other things. 

“You okay?” Paige asked, concerned with how shifty Azzi was being next to her. 

“Uh-huh,” Azzi just said, trying to play it cool. 

“Why are you… squirming like that?” Paige raised her eyebrow, still with her eyes on the road, and to Azzi’s misfortune, her hands still on the steering wheel with her veins popping. “Are you cold?”

“No no, I’m just… nervous, I guess,” Azzi lied. 

“Don’t be,” Paige smiled and put her hand on Azzi’s thigh as a supporting gesture. But that was really the cherry on top for Azzi.

“Oh God,” she blurted out at the contact. 

This time Paige turned her head for a second at Azzi with both her eyebrows raised suggestively. She saw the look on the actress’ face and finally understood what was going on. She snorted quietly to herself, not letting her hand go off Azzi's thigh. 

“What’s the matter?” Paige asked, pretending to not notice how worked up the actress was. She started to rub her hand up and down Azzi’s thigh as a sign of comfort. 

Azzi was trying to calm herself and steady her breathing. If she was gonna survive the night she was gonna have to become composed. But how could she, when Paige was rubbing her thigh like that, driving like that, being dressed like that?

“You can’t- I mean, I-” Azzi stammered and put her hand on top of Paige’s to make her stop moving it. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Paige said and withdrew her hand completely.

“No I-” Azzi stopped herself from saying anything.

Paige turned her head towards the younger one with a smug smile, revealing that she knew what was up. She placed her hand between them with her palm open, inviting Azzi to intertwine their fingers. 

“Is this better?” she asked. 

Azzi let out a breath and held her hand. “A little.”

Azzi was convinced Paige was one of the most precious human beings on this earth. Her gestures were always the cutest and pure. Azzi was sure that this woman right next to her could never hurt a fly. She was gentle, caring and loving in everything she did, she learned more and more everyday. The confident lead singer was still there, but it was really not the main characteristic like Azzi thought it would be in the beginning. 

Paige’s dad’s house really looked like any other house in the suburbs of Minneapolis, and Azzi was looking forward to meeting the people that raised the kind soul she had gotten to know. Paige parked the car in the driveway and the two women exited the car and entered the house.

“Paigey!” a young boy ran up to them and jumped up in Paige’s arms as soon as they walked in. 

“Hi Drew,” Paige held the boy who looked about eleven years old or something, Azzi couldn’t really tell. “Drew, get down, you gotta say hi to our company.”

Drew reluctantly let go of his big sister and looked at Azzi. 

“Oh wow,” he blurted out. “Hi.”

Azzi gently chuckled. “Hi Drew, I’m Azzi. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I know who you are,” the boy deadpanned. “You’re that actress that Paigey loves.”

“Bro,” Paige facepalmed herself while Azzi gave her a smug smile. 

“Thought I heard someone at the door,” a man walked into the hall with a big smile. 

“I’m Bob, and this here is my wife Cathy,” he introduced the woman next to him. 

“Hi, I’m Azzi, it’s so nice to meet you.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you too,” Cathy said. “Wow, you’re very beautiful, Azzi.”

Azzi gave a kind smile with a “thank you” and follows the family into the kitchen where everything is set up. Paige gently put her arm on her back, leading her to one of the chairs to sit down by the table.

“Dig in,” Bob said as they all sat down around the table. 

“So Azzi,” Cathy spoke. “Congratulations on your Golden Globe.”

“Thank you,” Azzi slightly blushed, not having expected them to know about the recent award. 

“I remember last year when you were nominated, and we were watching it here because Paige made us, as the movie fanatic she is, and she got so upset when you didn’t win,” Bob told her with a smile. “Said something about being robbed.”

“Oh?” Azzi looked over at the blonde with an amused grin. “That’s sweet. Although I do think Lily Gladstone truly was the worthy winner, so I didn’t feel robbed at all. But thank you.”

“Perhaps,” Paige said, a bit embarrassed about her dad revealing her enthusiasm about the actress a year prior. “But I’m happy they got it right this time.”

Azzi smiled at the singer, and Cathy and Bob exchanged a knowing look. 

“Azzi, who’s the most famous person you know?” Drew suddenly asked. 

“Dude,” Paige just chuckled. 

“I bet it’s someone more famous than all of Paige’s friends,” he continued. 

“Hmm… Maybe Zendaya or Emma Stone,” Azzi answered. “And Paige Bueckers of course.”

“Paigey isn’t even that famous,” Drew commented. 

Paige snorted with a frown. “I’m not trying to be.”

“You’re doing pretty well for someone who’s not trying,” Azzi said.

“I know,” Paige shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a natural.” Azzi just playfully rolled her eyes at that, finding Paige’s confidence to be stupidly charming. 

“Well Paige has been talking about you for years Azzi, so I’m glad we finally get to meet her friend,” Cathy spoke. 

“I’m glad to meet you too,” Azzi said, smirking on the inside with the knowledge that Paige’s parents probably thought that they had been friends for years just judging by how much the singer has talked about her. Paige on the other hand felt exposed everytime a family member opened their mouth. 

The dinner moved on steadily after that. Bob and Cathy were inviting people who made an effort to get to know Azzi with natural ease. The actress felt like she could be herself around the family and even joke with them. Azzi could see how this environment had shaped Paige into being the kind soul she is. 

“Thank you so much for this dinner, it was delicious,” Azzi said as they had finished the meal. 

“No problem honey,” Cathy answered. “If you’re ever in town again, you’re always welcome here.” 

Paige looked at the younger woman and nodded happily. 

“Are we gonna play basketball now?” Drew asked impatiently. 

“Yeah, let me and Azzi change clothes first,” Paige said and grabbed Azzi’s hand to lead her somewhere else. 

“Oh wow, is this Paige Bueckers room?” Azzi said as she looked around the small room with posters of artists and basketball players on the walls. 

“Here,” Paige tossed a hoodie and some sweatpants to Azzi. “You can wear that.”

Azzi started to take off her dress, but not without seeing how Paige was just unashamedly staring at her as she did. 

“Seeing something you like?” she teased.

“Let me help you with that,” Paige just said and approached the actress. She pulled the dress up, lightly caressing Azzi’s thighs in the process. They stood face to face, looking deeply in each other’s eyes.

Azzi lifted her arms up as Paige removed the dress completely from her. 

“Oh my God,” the singer exhaled at the sight of Azzi wearing a black lace lingerie set. “You did this on purpose.” Paige tossed the dress somewhere in the room and put her hands on Azzi’s waist and pulled her in closer, and Azzi snaked her arms around Paige’s neck.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Azzi answered, before planting a soft kiss on Paige’s lips, barely touching. “You like it?”

“I love it,” Paige nodded and leant in again to give her a proper kiss. Azzi sighed into it, feeling Paige’s hands roam freely over her body. The way she caressed her sides, her butt, her stomach, her back - it drove Azzi crazy. She let out a soft groan into Paige’s mouth. 

“Paigey! Azzi! Are you done changing soon or what?” a very impatient little brother shouted from the other side of the door, and Paige broke the kiss with a sigh. 

“Relax, we’ll be out soon!” Paige just shouted back, her hands still on Azzi, not letting her go. “Now where were we?”

Azzi gently pushed her away with a chuckle. “Let’s not make him walk in on us.” 

Paige threw her head back with a groan, clearly not happy with the interruption, but knew that they had no choice but to stop there. Azzi put on the sweats Paige had given her and Paige put on some as well. 

It didn’t take long for Azzi to see that Paige was indeed a very good basketball player. She was just observing the two siblings going at it one-on-one for a while, not wanting to interrupt their sibling quality time, even though both Paige and Drew insisted on her playing with them. 

“No, you guys play first, I’ll just watch for a while,” she had said. 

“Hm, I know what you’re doing,” Paige had smirked in response. “You’re checking out the competition.” 

“What competition?” Azzi had challenged. 

And now Azzi realized, that was exactly what she was doing. 

Paige clearly didn’t play all out against her little brother, but Azzi could tell that she was fast enough and shifty with the ball to make it hard to guard her. Drew really had no chance against his big sister, but the few times he caught the ball, he was pretty good as well.

“Why don’t you let Drew start this time,” Azzi suggested after about twenty minutes of just Drew not being able to get the ball from Paige. 

“Nah, he’s gotta learn defense,” Paige just said. 

“Paigey!” Drew let out a frustrated shout after another failed attempt to steal the ball. 

“Come on little dude,” she just replied. “Take it.”

“I’m done,” he answered, all tired from having spent the majority of the time just running around chasing the ball. He walked straight into the house and didn’t look back.

“You’re a menace,” Azzi said. 

“Well that’s usually how our hoop sessions end,” Paige shrugged. “Besides, I wanted to have time to play with you too.” 

Azzi shook her head as if she couldn’t believe Paige’s ways of getting what she wanted. She stood up and approached the woman.

“Give me your best shot,” Paige said and threw the ball to her. 

And Azzi did. But it didn’t take long for Paige to read her plays, being able to steal the ball a couple times. Since Azzi had observed the older girl’s game for a while, she had an idea of how she would defend against her, but now actually playing against her, she realized how wrong she was. Paige was unpredictable. 

“10-10,” Paige said after they had played for a while. “You’re not that bad, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s a tie,” Azzi deadpanned. “You can’t say that I’m good or bad without calling yourself that.”

“Okay, first one to reach fifteen wins,” Paige decided. 

None of the women held back. They were playing as if their life depended on it. Paige had learnt early on in their game that Azzi was a killer at shooting, and did everything in her power to not give her any open space to shoot comfortably. That didn’t really help though, as Azzi was just as good at dribbling the ball past her, finishing with layup after layup. 

But Paige was not far behind, and in the end, her speed and ability to score pretty much from anywhere paid off. 

“15-13. What can I say, still undefeated,” Paige smirked at Azzi who was breathing heavily. “Do I get a prize?”

“Hell no,” Azzi snorted. 

“I didn’t peg you as a sore loser, Azzi,” Paige said and teasingly pushed her. “I pegged you as a loser, sure, but as a sore one? Well, you should just get used to it from now on.”

“This is literally one of the worst losses in my life,” the actress said. “You’re so annoying.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Paige continued the teasing. 

Azzi rolled her eyes and started to walk in again without waiting for the singer, but Paige quickly ran up to her and put her arm around her shoulders. At that moment, it really hit Azzi that this was their last moment together, and she sunk into Paige’s touch, snaking her arm around her waist holding her closer. 

It didn’t feel right to leave. She could already feel how much she was missing the older girl. She should be worried how attached she had become just in a matter of three weeks. 

“We’re gonna go to the airport now,” Paige announced to her family as they entered the house. 

“No!” Drew exclaimed. “Are you leaving now, Azzi?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” she answered with a sad smile, feeling touched with Drew’s reaction. She gave him a tight hug and promised to play more basketball with him next time, without Paige. Then she hugged Cathy, who wished her a safe flight and told her that it was a great meeting her. 

And then there was Bob. He hugged her tightly and whispered: “Thank you for making my daughter so happy.” Azzi’s eyes widened. The way he had said it was as if it was a secret he was letting her into. It was clear that he didn’t want anyone else to hear it, just Azzi.

Azzi let go of the hug and nodded slowly but surely. She didn’t really know what to respond to it, considering she felt like she should be the one to thank him for raising someone so amazing like Paige. 

“Thank you guys for everything, I’ll hopefully see you again soon,” Azzi said a final goodbye and exited the scene with Paige. 

The moment Azzi sat down in the passenger seat, she felt that something had changed inside of her. What Bob had said to her had stirred something. She had never doubted their connection, never doubted Paige’s intentions, but now she somehow felt more sure than ever. Almost as if she had a new realization, a new conviction. 

“Take me home,” she blurted out to Paige as Paige started the car. 

“What?” Paige asked, confused. “You are going home,” she stated.

“No, I mean take me home to your apartment,” Azzi said with a serious tone. 

“Did you forget something?” Paige asked, still confused. “You’re gonna miss your flight if we go home, I could just send whatever you’ve for-”

“I can’t go home just yet,” Azzi said quietly. “I’ll take a flight home in the morning.”

“Azzi… I mean, are you sure?” 

Azzi just nodded, not really meeting Paige’s eyes, because she had a feeling that if she did, she would fall apart. 

“Then I’ll take us home princess,” Paige smiled widely and took Azzi’s hands in her own, giving the back of it a sweet peck before driving out the driveway. 

The ride home was quiet. They barely spoke to each other. Azzi was too occupied feeling everything all at once. It was quite overwhelming, how much she felt, and she couldn’t even name what exactly it was. It was as if her body hadn’t been able to feel the difference between leaving Paige or being chased by a lion. Her heart was beating fast and all she could focus on was trying to breathe steadily and the safe feeling of Paige’s hand holding her. 

Paige’s head was occupied too, replaying what Azzi just had said and what it meant. Azzi wanted to stay as long as she possibly could, and it meant everything to Paige. Seeing the younger girl being so reluctant about leaving made Paige realize how real this was, how raw it was. It was starting to become something more.

Once they entered the apartment, Azzi wasted no time. She knew what she wanted, and it was Paige. All of Paige, as long and as much as she could. She pushed the singer against the door and crashed their lips together. Her hands were already at the hem of Paige’s hoodie.

Slowly and deliberately, Paige moved her tongue against Azzi’s. She could feel the urgency from the actress but had no intentions of rushing through the night. She grabbed Azzi’s hands from underneath her hoodie and spun them around, pinning the younger one against the door. 

After having spent the last three nights with the actress, Paige had learnt that Azzi was not afraid to take control and take initiative. It was something Paige valued a lot, considering her history with passive and submissive girls, so having Azzi being so assertive was quite refreshing and liberating for her. Of course she had seen a submissive side to Azzi, and it was clear as day that girl was a switch, but this night, she wanted to evoke that side of her to a new level she hasn’t seen yet. 

This time, Paige was done with letting Azzi take control however she wanted. She wanted to treat Azzi the way she deserved to be treated - spoiled with pleasure.

Moving her hands to the actress butt, she slightly bent down and lifted her off the ground. Surprised by it, Azzi’s eyes shot wide open and she flung her arms around Paige’s neck, holding onto her. Paige had one arm under her butt and the other on her back as she carried her to the bedroom while sucking on Azzi’s neck. 

Azzi threw her head back with a soft moan from the sensation. Paige removed her lips from her neck and let her down on the bed, hovering over her.

The actress swallowed from seeing the way Paige was looking down on her. Those blue eyes piercing through her very soul. She could see the hunger and the unadulterated lust in them. It sent shivers right through her. Paige made her feel so desired. 

“Have I told you just how beautiful you are?” Paige whispered.

“A couple times,” Azzi smirked. 

“Hmm, not enough then,” she stated. “And have I told you how fucking sexy you are? The thoughts that ran through my mind tonight during dinner were unspeakable. God Azzi, the things I wanna do to you…”

Azzi let out a desperate breath, almost a whimper, from hearing Paige speak like that. 

“And the way that dress clung onto you,” Paige groaned and lowered herself so she was right by Azzi’s ear. “Just wanted to tear it off of you right then and there.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Azzi breathed into Paige’s ear. 

“I think it’s the other way around, pretty girl,” Paige took off her old hoodie that Azzi was wearing and flung it on the floor, to then immediately take off her pants as well, leaving her in her matching set of lingerie.

“Fuck,” Paige groaned and felt her breathing starting to become heavier just by the sight in front of her. 

Azzi was just about to reach out her hands to touch Paige, but Paige just pinned them down onto the mattress and said: “You’re not in charge tonight, princess.” Azzi just swallowed hard at that, feeling her center ache by the words, getting indescribably turned on. 

Before Azzi knew it, Paige flipped her over so she was lying on her stomach, head buried in the pillows.

“Paige!” she flinched surprised when she felt the singer’s hand give her butt a firm slap. 

The blonde placed her legs on either side of Azzi’s butt and leaned down so she could whisper in her ear. 

“Kinda want to take you like this,” she said and massaged the younger one with her hands on her back. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Azzi didn’t say anything, just trying to catch her breath from everything.

“I said, wouldn’t you?” Paige tugged on her hair so she could look at her face. 

“Yes,” Azzi let out with a soft moan. Her eyes clouded with lust. Paige smirked at seeing Azzi like that. She knew that they hadn’t been drinking at all, yet she looked like she was on another planet. 

“Good girl,” Paige praised and started to kiss down Azzi’s shoulder blades, gliding her fingers delicately down Azzi’s sides to her hips and thighs. Azzi’s body was reacting on its own, hips jerking at every touch, legs squirming trying to get some sort of friction. 

Paige then lifted her hips so her ass was up while her upper body still was down in the sheets. 

“Look at you,” Paige murmured, caressing Azzi’s butt. “You’re soaked.”

Azzi moaned at the remark. 

“Please,” she whispered desperately. She just wanted Paige to touch her where she needed it the most.

“Aw, babygirl needs it badly huh?” Paige asked almost mockingly. 

“Paige,” Azzi pushed herself back against Paige’s soft touch, wanting more, but Paige removed her hands from her completely. But before she could protest, she felt Paige pull her panties down and took them off. 

“You’re dripping,” Paige groaned and couldn’t wait to touch her anymore. She leaned in and flattened her tongue against Azzi’s wet pussy, softly dragging it from the clit to the soaked center. 

“Oh God,” Azzi moaned loudly at the first contact. 

Paige gave another long lick to then detach herself from the actress. 

“Paige please,” Azzi whined, already too impatient. 

“Sit up,” Paige said, and suddenly Azzi felt two hands on her stomach, pushing her upwards. She did as she was told and saw Paige’s face between her legs, waiting for her to sit on it. 

Azzi didn’t waste any time and grabbed Paige’s hair while lowering herself down on her tongue. 

“Fuck,” Azzi moaned and started to grind herself on Paige’s tongue, but really, she was riding on her face. Paige’s hands were roaming Azzi’s front, pulling her bra up and playing with her nipples. 

“You’re so desperate, princess,” Paige mumbled. 

“Shut up,” Azzi breathed out as she felt herself getting closer and held onto Paige’s head harder and grinded even faster.

But Paige was not pleased with that, and flipped them over once again. Azzi’s back hit the mattress. Paige detached her tongue from the actress’ clit and stood up from the bed. 

“Paige, what the fuck!” Azzi exclaimed, extremely frustrated. Paige didn’t listen and just walked over to her closet. Azzi didn’t have to wait long to realize what Paige was doing. 

Before she knew it, Paige was standing before her with her clothes off and strap on. 

“You gonna be good for me now, or are you gonna talk back again?” Paige pushed Azzi’s legs apart, positioning herself. She grabbed a pillow and put it under Azzi’s butt to give her better access. 

“I’ll be good,” Azzi swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest at the sight. 

Paige nodded, satisfied with her answer. She leaned down and kissed the actress on the lips, still being wet from having her face ridden on just a moment ago. Azzi could taste herself on Paige’s tongue. 

Even though she loved making out with Paige, this time it felt unbearable. She could feel the strap against her clit with Paige hovering over her. 

She moaned into Paige’s mouth at the sensation between her legs. 

“Please,” she groaned. 

“Please what?” Paige looked down at her. 

“I need it,” she breathed out and put her hands on Paige’s hips. 

“You need it?” Paige just repeated. 

“Need you so, so, bad,” Azzi practically moaned. 

“That’s it, baby,” Paige smiled and grabbed the dildo with one of her hands and slowly entered Azzi. 

“Oh my God,” she arched her back as Paige was slowly but steadily entering her. She wrapped her arms around her neck, holding onto her for dear life. 

“Such a good girl,” Paige whispered into her ear as she had fully eased the dildo into her. 

Azzi wanted to tell her to start moving, to do something instead of just staying still like this, but she knew better now than to start being bratty. Instead, she just started to lightly buck her hips up, feeling the dildo hit the right spot. She moaned into Paige’s ear, and Paige just kissed her neck.

At last, Paige started to move her hips. Azzi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, her hands holding onto Paige’s back, wanting to be close to her. It felt so intimate, having Paige on top of her like this, fucking her like this. 

“Feels so good,” she whimpered. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Nothing feels better than you, princess,” Paige whispered back and gave her a kiss on the lips. There was something so pure with the simple kiss that was more than just lust. There was trust, there was care and there was admiration in it too. 

“Wish I had a mirror in the ceiling so you could see just how pretty you are, getting fucked like this,” Paige said. “You’re doing so good for me.” 

Azzi could feel herself getting close with those words. 

“I’m gonna cum,” she moaned. “Please.”

“Cum for me baby,” Paige groaned and fucked her even deeper.

And Azzi did. It was as if her body was waiting for Paige’s command, because as the words came out of the singer’s mouth, her body was taken over by pleasure. She arched her body into Paige’s, holding on for dear life while throwing her head back with a loudest moan yet.

Paige slowed down and gently pulled out when Azzi had completely unraveled underneath her. She carefully laid down onto the actress and rested her head on her shoulder, her lips right by her ear. 

“You’re incredible,” she whispered and gave Azzi a sweet kiss on the cheek. 

“You’re, you’re the one to talk,” Azzi panted, trying to catch her breath. She caressed Paige’s back and peppered kisses on her shoulder. 

“I’m glad you wanted to stay a little longer,” Paige leaned back to look into Azzi’s eyes.

“You sure made it worth it,” Azzi smiled. 

“And there’s still so much left of this night,” Paige winked.

“You gotta give me a minute,” Azzi laughed. 

“Want some water?” Paige got up from the bed and headed to the kitchen.

“Yes please.”

Azzi could hear Paige in the kitchen with the tap. Even if they had just finished having sex, the fresh memory of it made Azzi shiver and get goosebumps all over her body. The anticipation of what the rest of the night had in store for them made her tingle all over again. 

So when Paige returned with two glasses in her hands, Azzi threw herself at her, almost making her spill water all over the floor.

“That didn’t take long,” Paige mumbled against Azzi’s lips, smiling like a fool, quickly shutting up to reciprocate the kiss. 

—

“You look like hell,” Zendaya said as she gave Azzi a hug as she entered her trailer. “How was Minnesota?”

They were just about to go to hair and makeup to start the day, but Zendaya wanted to interrogate her friend first. 

“I have barely slept,” Azzi deadpanned. “I flew in this morning, literally just came from the airport. But, it was worth it. Minnesota was amazing.”

“Uh-huh, Minnesota, or Paige?” Zendaya teased.

“Both. Mostly Paige, but Minnesota was actually very beautiful as well.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I think I’m… starting to really like her,” Azzi carefully said to her friend. “Like, for real.”

“Girl, I could’ve told you that two weeks ago,” Zendaya smirked. 

“But isn’t it way too early for that? For feelings and stuff?” Azzi asked. “I feel like I don’t want to mess it up by expecting us to be too serious too fast.”

“Don’t think about that, just let things happen and you’ll see that it’ll get there naturally,” her friend said. “You’re allowed to have feelings. Hell, you have some great feelings. Enjoy it.”

“You’re right,” Azzi smiled. “You know, we were up all night, and I just felt like everything made sense. Being with her makes sense.”

“Up all night huh?” Zendaya winked. “Doing what exactly?”

“Having sex,” Azzi shrugged. “And talking. And then more sex. And then talking. And then cuddling. It just felt like we couldn’t get enough of each other in any way. It was literally heartbreaking to leave. I love being around her.” 

“Aw, that’s adorable,” her friend wrapped her arm around her. “I’m so happy for you Azzi.”

“Yeah. But she’s going to Europe soon and we have the press tour coming up, so we won’t be able to see each other that much now,” Azzi sighed. “And I already miss her.”

“You have your whole life ahead of you to be with her, don’t stress,” Zendaya stated casually, while Azzi just flinched at the mention of “whole life”. It kind of overwhelmed her how this could potentially end up being the best or the most hurting thing in her life. But she quickly tried to comfort herself by thinking that everything in life was a risk, and this was no exception. Except the fact that Paige felt like a piece in her life she wasn’t willing to risk losing. Not even a little bit. 

“Let’s go to hair and makeup now. I can’t believe we’re almost done shooting,” Zendaya stood up to exit the trailer. 

They had approximately two weeks left of shooting the movie before a short break to then go out on a press tour. It wouldn’t be a big press tour, since the real one would start closer to the premiere which would be some time next year. 

Azzi had always loved acting. Ever since she was a kid she was in every school play, every local theatre play and her mom always helped her get small background roles. It was her way of expressing herself, her outlet of emotions. She was grateful her parents were so supportive of that dream, since she understands that most parents would want their children to reach for more stable jobs than acting, but they never stopped believing in her. 

It was only five years ago she felt like she entered the real movie industry and the big Hollywood scene when she was starring in a Christopher Nolan movie amongst other big names. It really happened over night, the difference between being just an actress, to suddenly becoming a celebrity. 

Of course she had been known before, especially internally in the business, and there were some fans here and there. But the mainstream media never covered her like they started to after that movie. The paparazzi were always waiting outside of her home for the whole duration of that movie premiere and then some more months afterwards. Mostly because she was rumoured to be having something with her at the time co-star Maya Hawke, and they were seen leaving together more than once.

And truth be told, Azzi and Maya hadn’t been platonic at all. But they were never officially together either. Maya never wanted to be. She wanted to focus on her career. And it’s not like Azzi didn’t want to focus on her career, but she didn’t feel like she had to make a choice between her job and her love life the same way Maya wanted to. And so after one big fight, they just cut everything off. 

The moment Maya stopped being seen with Azzi, the paparazzi started to simmer down. They didn’t go away completely, but she wouldn’t get blinded every time she would go out at least. 

Azzi had never confirmed her sexuality to the media. She never felt the need to. She was well aware that the majority of her fanbase were queer, who were also hoping that she was queer too, and that they still shipped her with Maya and tagged her in edits every single day. She loved them deeply and appreciated every single one of them. If she would ever officially come out, it would be to them, to share the experiences they all had in common - to proudly be a part of the community. But for now, it was enough to be a part of the community without having to declare it, but without hiding it too. 

Hopefully, Azzi thought, it would happen naturally hand in hand with Paige Bueckers. 

—

[drcomttheo]

Hi, first of all I really like your work <3

Could I ask for a short story with Matteo and hufflepuff reader in a hogwarts setting (but more college style). The reader is shy and awkward in social situations in general, and is oblivious of any romantic instances. I would love to read something soft and fun where Matteo is trying to actually flirt with the reader, but they think it is just friendly banter. Maybe some of the Slythering gang is nearby and are just enjoying the show and betting on the outcome XD Even better if there are books involved or simply a bookish setting.

Thank you :)

MATTHEO RIDDLE x YN

summary: You are a reserved Hufflepuff just trying to study. warnings: Fluff words: 1418 a/n: Hope you enjoy, anon! Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍

Hogwarts had now offered higher education; after the seventh year, you could continue education for university—still within your assorted house—and you were a Hufflepuff.

You were in your third period of the day, which happened to be private study, so naturally, as the bookish reader you are, you found yourself within the confines of the library, trying to catch up on your studies.

This changed when a sudden influx of noise caught your attention, prompting you to shift your gaze to the tall double doors, where you saw Mattheo accompanied by the rest of the Slytherin gang.

The resonant thuds of their footsteps echoed through the air as they made their way into the library. Mattheo, the ringleader of the group, drifted a bit from his companions, meandering through the aisles of books. He plucked a few volumes from the shelves, his face betraying a disinterest as he skimmed their pages.

Your eyes flickered toward him at intervals, each moment drawing him nearer and nearer.

After a brief interlude, Mattheo discovered himself positioned directly before you, where you sat.

Little did you know, he was already well-acquainted with you, having noticed your wandering gaze every few seconds, prompting him to gradually draw nearer.

At that moment, he stood above you, a commanding presence, and he released a deep, deliberate sound from his throat.

“Busy studying?” Mattheo's gaze pierced through the pages of the book, his intense dark orbs flickering up to meet yours. A brow arched in playful curiosity, an amused smirk danced across his lips, hinting at secrets only he knew.

"Yes... I have an exam next period..." You said, your voice warm and inviting, a friendly smile gracing your lips.

Before you could utter another word, he had settled into the chair beside you, an eager glint in his eyes. He laughed a little because he thought you were shy yet nice. Then he leaned back in the chair and put his hand on the armrest next to you.

"An exam, huh? I don't care about those; they're all a bunch of rubbish to me." He answered with a sleepy smile on his face.

"Well," you began with a laugh, "I care about my grades, and I also like the subject. But what are you doing here if you're not studying?" You questioned yourself as you cast your eyes around the library, and once you did, your gaze came into contact with some of the other Slytherins that sat on the opposite end of the library.

"Eh, just a bit bored." Mattheo lied, glancing over to where his friends sat a few tables away. He could tell they were trying to discreetly look over at you and him.

He sighed before diverting his gaze back towards you, a smirk spreading across his face. "Besides, I saw you sitting here all alone... figured I'd keep you company."

"Okay... that's fine then..."

Mattheo let out a soft chuckle, his arms folding across his broad chest as he reclined once more in the chair.

"I must say, I'm surprised I've never really noticed you until now," he admitted while his eyes continued to wander over your body.

"That's okay! I tend to keep my head down and mind my studies!"

"Ahh, a studious one, huh? I like it." He mused, his smirk growing wider. "Cute and a nerd."

He leaned closer to you, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes, and lowered his voice so that only you could hear him. "I have to admit, I've always had a bit of a thing for the smart ones."

Your brows knitted together ever so slightly, warmth creeping into your cheeks, and a small smile tugged at your lips—he was merely being friendly; surely, he extended his kindness to all. However, the moment felt different when you locked eyes with Draco Malfoy, who was playfully nudging Theo Nott while they snickered in their small group.

Mattheo caught the direction of your gaze as it wandered towards his friends, and with a subtle roll of his eyes, he released a soft scoff. "Ignore them... they're just being idiots." 

“I see that,” you murmured, your gaze drifting back to the pages of your book, yet in that moment, Mattheo leaned in closer and quietly closed it, interrupting your thoughts. 

He wore a sly smile, his eyes locked onto yours. "Now there's no need for that... I prefer your attention to me, not your book." He playfully teased, his other hand gently coming to rest upon your knee.

You glanced at him and then went down to your knee, and within a matter of seconds, you quickly picked his hand up and placed it back on the table.

"I don't know what you are talking about..."

Mattheo's smirk deepened, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes as he observed your swift reflexes, intrigued by your valiant effort to silence him. 

"Playing hard to get, are we?" He chuckled, his voice low and smooth. "No need to be so uptight, love. I just want a bit of your attention, is all."

Your cheeks flushed with warmth as you gathered your books, clutching them tightly to your chest. Rising from the table, you felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirl within you.

"I need to study! I'm sorry! I don't mean to be rude..." You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a fleeting moment, Mattheo's expression softened, and a gentle chuckle escaped his lips as he observed your bashful demeanor. He couldn't help but find your bashfulness endearing.

"Ah, no need to apologize." He uttered those words, reclining once more in his chair. "I'll back off for now. Wouldn't want to get in the way of your studies."

Your smile lit up his face, and then your gaze shifted to his companions, who seemed to be amusing themselves.

"What are they laughing at?"

Mattheo's eyes flicked to his friends, a fleeting hardness crossing his features. "Like I said, they're just a bunch of idiots. They're probably just amused by the fact that a smart person like you isn't falling for my charm." With a scoff, he rolled his eyes, a gesture laden with disdain.

His charms? You thought to yourself, was that what he was doing? Flirting?

Mattheo let out a soft chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he observed the dawning realization that spread across your face.

"Ah, I see you are beginning to understand. Took you long enough." He leaned forward on the table once more, a playful glint in his eyes as he teased. "You must know people usually fall at my feet, right?"

"I'm sorry? I'm not sure what you are talking about."

Mattheo's lips curled into a smirk, a glimmer of delight dancing in his eyes as he reveled in the playful exchange.

"Let me clear it up for you then." He said, his tone bordering on cocky. “Want to go out with me?" He inquired, casting a fleeting glance at his friends.

They were silently forming words you couldn't decipher, their attempts to conceal their broad smiles failing miserably, and as Mattheo turned back to you, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "I guess my friends are anticipating your answer as well."

"Me? What? I—sure?"

Mattheo's smirk blossomed into a genuine smile at the warmth of your acceptance. "Great." He said, his expression softening momentarily. "How about this weekend, then? I'll meet you by the Black Lake after dinner on Saturday."

"That's fine..." you murmured softly, cradling your books against your chest, striving to quell the warmth rising to your cheeks and to regain your composure.

Mattheo caught sight of your flustered expression, a grin spreading across his face as he reveled in the delightful way you were behaving. "Looks like I've got you all flustered." He playfully taunted. "Don't worry, I won't bite... unless you want me to."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips in response to his words, and in that fleeting moment, he returned your expression with a brief yet warm smile of his own.

"I'll see you then, then," you said quickly as he rushed out of the library past his friends; we were clapping slightly.

Mattheo let out a soft chuckle, a smirk lingering on his lips as he watched your hasty retreat. As he turned to look at his friends, they gave him a sly grin in response.

"Looks like you scored a date, mate." Blaise playfully nudged his arm, a mischievous glint in his eye.

[hanafubukki]

“It won’t be easy.”

You pause before turning back to the Headmaster.

Gold eyes stare at you.

Usually, the gracious Headmaster would comedically be making poses or speaking about the rude students of the day, but here and now, he was different.

The Headmaster was serious, a look you have seen only a few times during your stay at NRC.

Be it now he would choose to act this way.

You tilted your head, waving the folder of papers that he had just signed.

“The outside world will be much easier to live in compared to my stay here. I might even get bored. Besides,” You smirked, “you made sure of that, didn’t you? If not through grit and grin, then through my connections forged here, I’ll be alright.”

“Ahh~ How my fledgling has grown! It brings a tear to my eye.”

That didn’t take long, back to his normal ways as usual. Or rather, the normal he likes to portray. You turned as the Headmaster raised his hands in false sorrow.

Turning the knob as you left, you nonchalantly state, “Careful. This “fledgling” might come back to steal your job.”

The burst of laughter echoed down the hallway.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Today, you graduate.

Today, you are leaving NRC.

You had the world before you to explore.

…and then you might come back and steal Dire Crowley’s job.

Steal his job you did in this fic 😂😂🥳🥳

….abajsjsjs okay I have no explanation for this fic. It was supposed be an entirely different fic but then this happened. I really am not in control of what I write at all or the characters, am I?? OTL 😅😆

Some quick thoughts about this fic

The folder you hold is papers he’s signed for you. Papers that have your general info that he registered as a student of NRC and a citizen of Sage Island…eventually. Basically all the background info and legalities any person would need to make living and travel. He pulled some strings and basically made an identity for you. Maybe, if you prefer, put you under his name as his family.💞💙

I forget the exact saying but he mentions in the story about growing apples or something along the lines so the line about “fledgings” came from that because baby crows are called that.🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Yeah this does imply you never went back to your world wether by choice or not lol but maybe you can also think of it as a way of accepting that fact or looking for a way yourself 🧐🧐

There was supposed to be a scene implying that you knew it was Crowley who summoned you to twst…but I didn’t know how to put that in here, so maybe I’ll use that for another fic or something. Something along the lines of “you summoned me, if I couldn’t do it; I wouldn’t be here.” Something something, but it sounded repetitive so it was cut lol. 👀👀

[centrally-unplanned]

Since we're back on star wars discussion anyway, I remember you saying something like the prequels messing up by making the time between the fall of the republic and new hope too short. Now I'm interested how you'd solve it instead: Luke would have to be born a decent time after fall of the republic, is that what you mean? Completely new canvas basically?

Yes, Luke should be born a good stretch after the fall of the Republic, and it should be something of a new canvas. This, imo, is not something that needs a lot of world-building, instead a sort of narrative "courage" to kill some instinctive assumptions. In reality, just like the time between the wars is too short, the civil war itself is too short - not really the kind of thing that seems like it would have the "scope" to so radically change society, to make everyone in the Senate & Galaxy so accepting of and complicit in militant authoritarianism. The Clone Wars are only 3 years long! And in the prequels even that is honestly very "word of god" - you would never guess that based on what you see in the movies. Anakin having an entire Padawan-Master relationship with Ashoka in between the 2nd and 3rd films is kinda laughable, events seem much shorter.

It is very easy to envision a much longer conflict, an endless conflict, one that grinds on with new fronts, constantly justifying increasing levels of rising militancy and control (Palpatine himself would be secretly throwing key battles or funding insurgencies in order to prolong the conflict, for example). A whole new generation of military leaders would be raised in the system as true believers. The Rebellion would itself be Just Another Violent Episode until they blow up the Death Star and that whole sequence of events radically shifts the balance of power. This is what A New Hope looks like when you see it.

(You can ofc envision a different approach, one where the war is the length it is - or even one where the time is much less, where the Empire is brand new, a violent coup led by zealots radically pivoting from ideological purge to crushed insurgency. But then the polished, bureaucratic professionalism etc of A New Hope doesn't track)

The reason this isn't the case is that Luke needed to be born before Anakin fell. That is silly for two reasons. One...why? Darth Vader can't fuck? This is the kill-your-assumptions part; Darth Vader did not need to "start" broken and decayed in the suit. That can be a slow process - honestly, I think we all assumed it *was* a slow process in the original films, the Dark Side eating away at him over time. A mid-30' s scarred-but-fit (and hot, obvi) Darth Vader could absolutely have seduced an ambitious, grey-morality rising senatorial star in order to breed an "heir to the empire", who balks at the intensifying level of fascism at the last moment and flees with their children into the Rebellion. Or something, right? This just isn't a problem. Evil people have sex and families. I don't need to explain this.

The other way is that Anakin Skywalker didn't need to become Darth Vader at the launch of the empire. As Andor outlines, there is no one launch of the empire - the Senate is still powerful in the middle eras. Anakin could have been born later, seduced by Palpatine at a key moment in his own life. Or he could have fought the Empire for years, and had his hope chipped away, falling to the dark side as a grizzled veteran. There are a lot of options here.

Now the latter option radically changes the prequels - you can't line up "the fall of Anakin" with "the fall of the republic" and "the death of the Jedi" in one neat line. I don't care about that personally, but I get it, you wanna tell that story. The former option lets you still do that, Anakin can kill the Jedi, it just means he probably doesn't have a love story as his motivating B plot for the whole thing. Fortunately for us, that B plot sucked! Everyone hated that romance; it was coarse and rough, and narratively got everywhere, screwing up the prequels. Ditching it and focusing on Anakin's personal values, ambitions, and relationship with Obi-wan would have been way better. You could even keep Padme and have her just Be Hot And Evil and support Anakin's turn, and they have a kid later! My idea fucks, 10/10, no notes.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Who do I need to bribe to have more cute moments with this Stark family??? A double date with Tony/Reader - Howard/Maria maybe??? Or the CAAAT??? This family owns this site now 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

The Double Date

A/N: Dating with the Starks! Haha hope y’all enjoy :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, Howard x Maria (duh)

Warning: Family fluff!!

.

Tony’s pacing the living room like he’s about to brief the entirety of MIT on his latest invention, not introduce his girlfriend to his parents over risotto.

Maria is sipping tea, legs crossed being a picture of calm elegance. Howard’s scrolling something on his phone and muttering about how long truffle oil has been “a thing.”

Tony stops mid-stride, points at both of them.

“Okay. Ground rules.”

Howard barely looks up. “We need rules for dinner now?”

“Yes, because I’ve met you both.”

Maria raises a brow, amused. “Tony, darling, we’re not going to interrogate her.”

“You say that like you didn’t do a background check and a body language assessment the last time I brought someone to a fundraiser.”

Howard grunts. “That was for the blonde one who tried to install spyware on your arc reactor. I was being reasonable.”

Tony points to him again. “And that—don’t bring up the exes. Not even in passing. Not even as a joke.”

Maria: “What about mild psychological analysis?”

Tony: “Absolutely not.”

Howard: “What if I ask her to define quantum field theory just to see what she does?”

Tony: “If you do that, I will spill wine on your expensive blazer and pretend it’s an accident.”

He throws his hands up and sighs.

“Look, I really like her. And she already knows I’m a mess, but I don’t want her thinking it’s a family tradition.”

Maria leans over and pats his cheek affectionately. “Oh, sweetheart, it absolutely is a family tradition. But don’t worry—we’ll behave.”

Howard smirks. “Relatively.”

“No physics puns, old man.”

“That’s relativity, son.”

Tony groans like he’s aged ten years in the last ten minutes. Then, quietly—

“Just… be cool. She’s important to me.”

For once, both parents go still. Howard puts the phone away. Maria’s expression softens in that subtle, maternal way that could stop a freight train mid-rage.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Maria promises gently. “Because if she matters to you, she matters to us.”

Howard grumbles something indistinct but nods. That’s the best you’re getting.

Tony exhales. “Thank god. Okay. I need to go change into something less sweaty.”

Howard calls after him: “Maybe try being less nervous—it’s a date, not a war.”

Tony’s voice drifts back from down the hall.

“Says the man who once interrogated a CEO over brunch!”

Maria: “That was an enjoyable Sunday.”

…

The reservation is at some impossibly exclusive Manhattan restaurant where the water costs more than a coffee and the lighting is so flattering it practically erases generational trauma. You’re dressed to kill, Tony’s in his smug rich guy element, and you’re along for the ride, radiating grace and just enough sass to keep him honest.

Maria greets you with a hug and a perfectly executed compliment. She’s all elegance and warm eyes, sliding into the booth like she was born for spotlight moments. Howard shows up two minutes late with the swagger of someone who invented the table you’re eating on.

“So,” Howard says, eyeing you with a smirk after ordering a $500 bottle of wine. “You’re the poor soul who decided to put up with my son.”

“She’s not putting up with me,” Tony cuts in smoothly, lacing your fingers with his. “She thrives in my chaos.”

“That’s called trauma bonding, sweetheart,” Maria says sweetly, sipping her drink.

You choke-laugh. It begins.

.

Between appetizers and the entrée, Howard’s telling a story about “back in my day, we built machines with our hands, not holograms” while Tony passive-aggressively orders another drink and mutters “back in your day, you thought seat belts were optional.”

Maria casually roasts both of them in that delightful “don’t make me pull this family over” tone.

You? You’re enjoying every second. Tony squeezes your thigh under the table every time you smirk like you’re collecting ammo.

⸻

Dessert comes with a side of sentiment.

Howard—slightly tipsy and softening—leans in to say,

“For what it’s worth… I didn’t think my kid would turn out to be half as decent as he is. Guess that’s your fault.”

Tony goes quiet. You squeeze his hand this time.

Maria adds with a fond sigh,

“I always knew he’d be something special. He just needed the right kind of partner to remind him he’s not alone.”

Tony’s voice is a little scratchy when he murmurs,

“Well, lucky me. I found her.”

You all toast. The moment lingers, soft and golden like the restaurant lights. It’s rare for them to share space like this—rare for Tony to let it happen.

And as the night winds down, Tony presses a kiss to your temple and whispers,

“Next time we go out, can it be just you and me and absolutely no parental evaluations?”

“No promises, Stark. But I’ll make sure there’s dessert.”

[applestorms]

sebastian/ciel relationship dynamic breakdown (pt. 2)

For a clearer breakdown of what this post will entail, please read my little intro for part 1 (linked here). Also: this section will be covering the latter arcs of the series, so please pay EXTRA attention to the spoiler warning on this one. <33

SPOILER WARNING !! (obviously.) there is a lot of summary in this, albeit hopefully narrow/focused, and filtered through my own thoughts and analysis. be warned. this is also not inherently a ship post, though you may certainly read it as such. have fun 🫶

6. LUXURY LINER ARC: VACATION GRANTED

Backstory time!! :D This arc is delightful in that it provides us with some really clear insight into the greater trajectory of Sebastian and Ciel's relationship over the last few years, especially when it comes to showing just how far they've come since their first meeting. As Sebastian's memories show us, Sebastian was not always the hyper-competent butler we know and love today, and Ciel himself was not always as settled into his position as head of the Phantomhive House or Funtom. (We also get the incredible reveal that Sebastian was, in fact, named after Ciel's dead dog, which will never not be funny. <3)

The big thing here is the reinforcement of the fact that, as much as Sebastian and Ciel love to fuck around and get on each other's nerves, they have also put a lot of work into learning how to get along and function like a team. And they do! What's also neat about this flashback sequence is that it comes in the middle of an arc that is generally quite high-stakes and tense, action-heavy in a way that means both of them are consistently on high alert and not as inclined to fuck with one another since a Whole Lotta People's lives are on the line. Sebastian is really giving his all for most of this trip, and Ciel is cognizant of that enough to grant him quite a formal break. They care about each other!! Perhaps even to their mutual embarrassment at times, and not entirely without some level of selfish motivations on both sides-- but there is also clearly something deeper starting to be established by this point, at the very least a habit and instinct to collaborate that will not be easily broken, though whether or not it will stand up to any tests will have to wait for a later arc. (Hint, hint.)

But back to the flashback-- obviously, the juiciest part of this for SBCL specifically is the fact that this is the first time we explicitly see Sebastian try to test the limits of Ciel's dedication to his whole revenge plot. This is great for two reasons: first, it is one of the more notable pieces of evidence we get this early on about just how untrustworthy and scheming Sebastian can be, as well as what his instincts are like as a demon, and second, it reinforces Ciel's unwavering dedication to their contract. For the latter point in particular, this is the first arc to really show some notable Ciel character development in this sense, which is important as this unwavering dedication to his revenge is obviously going to play a massive role in some of the next few arcs.

sidenote1: With regards to motivations, you could maybe argue that this is just Sebastian getting sick of his job or even Ciel and wanting to punch out early, but considering how much he seems to enjoy his whole butler cosplay schtick later on, I'm not as inclined to agree with this interpretation. Personally, I think a more interesting take on this is that Sebastian is reverting back to what he knows about humans from previous contracts, that they are selfish, power-hungry, and greedy for money and romance/sex, and applying that to Ciel to try and push at his limits and see if he'll take the bait, only to be caught off guard when Ciel defies him and doubles down on his original intention. At this point in the story Sebastian is, at the very least, still dedicated to the idea that Ciel's soul is going to be this drawn out, slow-cooked gourmet meal that will totally rock his shit, and he wants to be Certain that his initial prospecting was correct. This is new for both of them!

Ultimately, this arc as a whole functions as reinforcement: of Sebastian and Ciel's growth in their relationship, of their respective dedication towards Ciel's protection and revenge, and of their capacity to work as a team under stressful circumstances. It is certainly not perfect, and this connection will be tested in the future-- but for now, they've got other shit to worry about.

7. PUBLIC SCHOOL ARC: UNDERTAKER STRIKES BACK

Unfortunately for our purposes, this is the arc in which Sebastian and Ciel seem to interact directly the least, largely because they are once again forced to play distinct teacher/student roles and dedicate most of their meetings to scheming meaning that we're mostly back to just watching SBCL working at peak cooperation, with Sebastian once again bending to Ciel's will even if it means a ton of extra work for him (lol). That being said, there's still a lot of gay shit happening more generally at Weston, and we notably have one major moment between Sebastian and Ciel at the very end of the arc, which points at another idea I wanted to discuss:

If there is One (1) Thing in this entire series that makes it the most clear Sebastian and Ciel's relationship is the core of the story upon which all else revolves, it is the fact that Undertaker is the series' primary villain. Or rather, to put this the other way around: Undertaker himself makes it clear that Sebastian and Ciel's relationship is the central by constantly threatening to snatch Ciel away and break the two of them up.

This threat was clearly established by Undertaker in the last arc, and it becomes Very relevant yet again in some of the most recent arcs, but it's the brevity of the scene in this particular arc that causes me to view it like a kind of microcosm of these three's dynamic throughout the entire story. UT really doesn't do much once his identity is revealed during the tea party-- other than talking, his only notable action is to reinforce himself as a threat to Sebastian by proving, which he manages to do without even actually doing much other than anticipating the situation so that he can position himself closer to Ciel than Sebastian is. It's a very slick, subtle move, but one that Sebastian picks up on and hates.

It's because of this that I actually kinda view this scene as more fundamental to establishing UT as KURO's primary/endgame antagonist than his reveal as a shinigami in the last arc, as this proves that UT is someone who is dangerous, calculating, and capable of fucking up Sebastian to a previously-unseen degree. Quite impressive, really.

Notable as well is the fact that this approach to exploiting Sebastian's weakness (namely, Ciel) is not without its precursor either-- as I mentioned back in P1, Ciel himself even uses this weak point to his advantage, putting his own health and safety at risk due to his own stubborn determination during the Circus arc. For all his overpowering strength, his one greatest desire is also his most obvious soft spot, and the biggest players in this game are very much aware of that fact.

8. EMERALD WITCH ARC: OH MAN.

Oh, man.

I'm gonna try to keep the recency bias off of this one if I can since the anime is currently still coming out at the time of writing this, but OH FUCKIN' MAN. Two big things for this one: tentacles, and trust.

To start with the tentacles: hey, remember in P1 when I mentioned Sebastian and Ciel's close connection and dedication getting tested? This is that-- or more specifically, a kind of internal test served from Sebastian to Ciel, to check and see whether or not he still has the same kind of Dedication that he originally had to their contract. This is obviously also quite similar to his initial testing of Ciel's will right after his meeting with the queen as seen in the LLA, though with notably quite different circumstances: now Sebastian isn't just fucking with Ciel, not just testing him or trying to see if he'll adhere to his preconceived notions of what humans usually act like/want, but rather trying to see if this will be the thing that breaks him. He seems to be genuinely disappointed by Ciel's reversion and inability to break out of his trauma, taking to extreme measures to either ensure he gets his meal or, hopefully, break Ciel out of it.

Which he does!! To the great relief of basically everybody involved. And not only that, but we come out of this with an important reinforcement of not only Ciel's commitment to their contract and his revenge, but a valuable gloss on his claim to revenge-- a clarification of his pledge, that he is getting revenge for himself and nobody else. Ciel is grieving, but he recognizes that the dead will never return. His relationship with Sebastian is thus one that benefits him for himself and for himself alone, and nobody else will ever get in the way of that. This is Ciel regaining his self-confidence, his trust in himself, and growing closer to Sebastian because of it.

Thus: at the end of this arc, when Ciel says that Sebastian is, "the one he can trust the least," I really do believe that he is being truthful. He doesn't trust Sebastian, or at least not without some caution-- he is not nearly foolish enough to put his full faith into the monster trying to eat him, and (as we shall very soon see) hasn't been since the very beginning. They are closer now, certainly, but that is due in no small part to Ciel's trust in his own abilities to use Sebastian as he pleases and exploit his weakness (himself) to get what he wants.

The irony of this is that, overall, I think Sebastian and Ciel's relationship does have a greater positive impact on Ciel, on his self-confidence and strength and his ability to regain his agency after having it so viciously ripped away from him. Ciel doesn't want a strong, capable hero to save him, not after all that has happened to him by the time he and Sebastian finally meet-- he wants power and vengeance, the strength to stand on his own legs, and Sebastian, intentionally or not, gives him that. And it's that soft undercurrent of their relationship that paints their relationship in a much more interested, nuanced light than the surface level observation of "evil demon preying on a traumatized child," that is still true, but doesn't quite capture the full picture.

9. MUSIC HALLS ARC: PEEKING OVER THE EDGE

This arc once again features a mostly submissive Sebastian, with a majority of the emphasis falling on Ciel while he gets his shit freaked. Lots of this perhaps comes from the fact that the PSA kids are back, meaning that the cast of somewhat major characters is once again quite large and spends a lot more time bouncing around, setting up some of the REALLY major shit that's right on the verge of being revealed. Most of the pressure is either on Ciel or about to be, so their relationship specifically isn't under enough tension to be tested again in any major ways just yet. There are still some minor moments of friction, of course, but none that really feel character-defining like in the previous few arcs-- the story is foreshadowing a lot here, with tensions from the last 100+ chapters rising, but not quite tipping over the edge... until the end, anyway. When it comes to interactions with other characters, Sebatian and Ciel are pretty in sync this arc, falling back into a more typical dynamic as they team up to train and terrorize their new boy band.

That being said, there is ONE slight exception to this, and that is the slight interlude we get with the Halloween chapter (approximately chapter 119.5), which is one of my favorite specials so I must ramble about it at least a little. As a reminder, here's the last few pages:

I just love this. The symbolism!! THE SYMBOLISM!!! I know I just went on a whole spiel in the last part about how Ciel doesn't trust Sebastian without question, and I still do believe that, but this does point to the fact that Ciel does have some assurance in Sebastian's ability to keep himself safe for as long as it takes to get his revenge. Functionally he believes in him, at least enough to light the way forward, and even to snuff out that flame when the appropriate time does come. Fates intertwined, etc. etc. etc.

The symbolism of Sebastian putting Ciel in a devil costume is also Very intriguing to me, though I'm not entirely sure that I have one clear answer for it. While it is in part just a very funny costume for Ciel to wear, I can't help but feel like there is some kind of greater meaning behind it-- Sebastian's mutual influence on Ciel, perhaps? Grooming him into something more like him, even as Ciel willingly hands over his life and affects him just as much? It seems obvious to me that something a whole lot Bigger than just the contract has been coagulating in the deeper bond between these two, but I'm not entirely confident that I can place the specific nuances of what that is just yet. And looking at Sebastian's face in that second to last page... I'm not entirely sure that either of them have the words to place exactly what it is either.

sidenote2: Could this be interpreted as romantic? Almost certainly-- but it is the nuances within that which interests me most here. How much do they actually trust each other, and how aware are they of this? They're clearly pretty codependent-- but are they themselves even willing to recognize this? When does the predator/prey relationship end, when do the master/servant roles stop, and where do they begin to legitimately care for and respect one another? As we see in the most recent arcs, there is still plenty of room for their relationship to be tested, for the limits of what they are/aren't willing to admit to be put in conflict with what they want above all else. Their conclusion is still a ways off, I guess is my main point here.

10. BLUE MEMORY ARC: LEASHING THE DOG

Sebastian is fucking FERAL in this arc and it is so unbelievably incredibly hot narratively interesting. This entire section has some of the absolute BEST interactions between any two characters in the entire series, istg. Easily my favorite section in the whole entire comic. They're unbeatable. Incomparable. Unmatched meet cute at the demon summoning ritual. What if I was next in line to be sacrificed on the altar, and you were the devil who showed up to snag my twin brother's soul 👉👈 tee hee hee!!1 :3 Soulmate behavior. I'm getting sick to my fucukging stomach just thinking about it oh mgygoddd sedate me >__< (ok not yet i need to finish writing this BUT STILL)

There's just Something about being able to see some of the earliest interactions between Sebastian and Ciel here, to see the stage how it was originally set, that really makes so many of their later interactions that much more fascinating. Like I really cannot emphasize enough how delightful it is to see such an unhinged side to Sebastian from before he was collared and domesticated, back when he was still a liar and a monster and not quite settled into the fact that they were going to be playing the long game. And on the other end, it is wildly impressive seeing Ciel actively in the process of figuring out how to chain Sebastian down-- not falling for the lure of endless power or wealth or whatever other sins Sebastian might like to pull him into, but rather solidifying his first pass at the whole "revenge" idea and figuring out how to limit Sebastian's power so as to better harness it for himself, rather than going the more typical Faustian route of trying to get so much power it immediately bites him in the ass.

One of the most intriguing aspects of some of these flashbacks to me personally is also seeing just how quickly Ciel undergoes his outward personality shift from the shy, sickly, anxious kid that he was as a young boy, stuck back in his role as The Spare, the one stuck inside, to the more sullen and aggressive "Earl Ciel Phantomhive," that we see in the present day. He really does feel like a whole other person after Everything that happens, an amalgamation of intentional changes to try and appear more like his brother to fit his new identity as the confident, capable, outspoken one and the natural shifts that come with his trauma and grief and complete loss of faith, all of which is very much mediated by the new, constant presence of a certain demon butler lurking right over his shoulder.

Similar to EWA, what I further really appreciate about this arc is the way in which it sets up Sebastian as something legitimately dangerous, as one of the biggest, most powerful threats in the series that is absolutely dying to sink his teeth into Ciel. This is easily one of the most openly manipulative Sebastian's we get in the series, really the only time we ever get to see him lie outright to Ciel's face, and it establishes the tension between them perfectly, calling back to their spider couple games in the earliest chapters. Honestly, while it's pretty easy to read both Sebastian and Ciel as the protagonists of KURO, it is also wonderfully easy to read Sebastian as the "true" antagonist and Ciel the primary protagonist-- and ultimately it's the tension between those two sides that keeps the story rolling.

This is also one of the most clearly we hear Ciel speak in reference to the underlying lack of respect that he has for himself, and what I read as his thinly veiled suicidal tendencies. In this arc in particular, Ciel really gives me the vibes of a kind of mundane self-hatred, one that is not necessarily actively self-destructive or even very overt or noticeable to the people around him, but more along the lines of a simple acceptance of himself as something lesser. As is hopefully clear by this point, I really do view Ciel's self-confidence as a key aspect of not only his own individual arc but his relationship with Sebastian and their mutual development as well. It's why the twin reveal is so crucial to understanding who o!Ciel is as a person, imo-- from the very start of our story, o!Ciel has been living under the assumption that he can only ever have power or agency or receive love as his brother, that his own existence is one that can disappear and be swept away without excess grief from the people who remembered him. What his relationship with Sebastian reveals, and really everybody he meets and connects with who isn't attached to his Phantomhive Past, is that this absolutely is NOT the case. For better and for worse, o!Ciel is the one that Sebastian picked-- and, as UT so loves to point out, his life is not replaceable.

sidenote3: Agni. :( Can't let this post go without talking about his passing at least a little, particularly considering all of the parallels between those two couples that I discussed in P1. In particular, it's the parallels between him and Ciel that really gets to me here, and the ways in which we might view his death in conjunction with the sword of Damocles that has been hanging over Ciel's head for this entire series' run... Probably gonna talk about this more in another post on all the master/butler relationships in the series, actually, but the big thing here for me is comparing Soma's reaction to Agni's passing, and specifically Agni dying for Soma, to protect him, to the distinctly more predatory and cannibalistic dynamic that SBCL have going on.

sidenote4: Additionally, after re-watching the ending of S1, I've been struck by the thought that I seriously doubt the ending of the manga will look very much like the ending of either S1 or S2. Like, on a surface level I wouldn't be surprised if there were some similar aesthetic elements or if the greater set-up had echoes of either ending, but I just don't think that a direct recreation of S1's ending would hit the same or even work at all with how the story currently looks. S1 Ciel just feels like such a wildly different person to current-manga Ciel, in his relationships w/ other characters alone if not his underlying core personality. S1 Ciel can drop himself off a bridge, sit quietly on a bench, and let Sebastian easily chow down on his soul. But current manga Ciel? Current manga Sebastian? I don't think it will be nearly as easy, and I'm inclined to keep a sharp eye out for any further developments in Soma's reaction to Agni's passing in particular for the potential parallels it may present to SBCL.

11. BLOOD SPLIT ARC (current): THE FINAL TESTS

This whole section is interesting in that we get another experience of SBCL that feels a LOT like when we took Arthur's POV back in the Manor Murders, only now it happens a couple times in succession with Mey-Rin, Bard, and (a little bit of) Snake's backstories. We are also largely relegated to seeing Sebastian and Ciel purely through these backstories, with very little to no insight into the present-day actions (until very recently, anyway) which is quite different to the kind of masked performance they were doing way back in Murder.

What's fascinating about these depictions to me is just how much Sebastian and Ciel are idolized and practically deified in the eyes of their servants, standing as this image of some kind of unbreakable power couple that certainly gets up to some questionable shit, but is also to a degree untouchable to anybody else. It's actually been somewhat strange for me to see them interacting normally again in the most recent chapters after months and months of seeing them through this lens of the eyes of the people they saved, returning to the usual antics but with the lingering flavor of their mutual overwhelming power still present at the back of my tongue. Since very little time has actually passed in-universe over the last few years there isn't much to sink my teeth into with this section in terms of Insane Developments in their relationship-- instead, I feel left with this distinct thought of just how simultaneously loved and isolated Sebastian and Ciel are together.

Since Sebastian's true nature seems to (miraculously, frankly) still be basically unknown to every other character in the series, save for the shinigami + Arthur + whatever other humans they happen to be terrorizing at any given moment, those two are somewhat uniquely situated in the sense that they are the only ones who really seem to Get what's happening between them. Of course, everybody picks up on the closeness, on the deep bond and apparent trust that is undeniably between the two of them, but the true depths of their codependency and the nature of their contract seems to confine them away from most other characters. Naturally, Undertaker comes closest to figuring it out, but as I think we're likely to see in the upcoming chapters, even he doesn't seem to fully Get It either (or at the very least is biased by his own desires/feelings surrounding the Phantomhives).

SO. Speaking, of... where is all of this going, anyways?

I'm certain there are things that will come out surprise me about this series as we begin descending into the final stretches of this manga's run, but if I had to list my suspicions/thoughts/questions surrounding where I think the story is likely to go, considering everything that has come thus far (and still staying centered on SBCL), it would look something like this:

o!Ciel has still not yet fully dealt with the fundamental insecurity at the center of his psyche: the idea that he is inherently lesser than his brother. As delighted as I am by his adamant refusal to give up the title of "Earl Ciel Phantomhive," there's some deeper shit there that he's still not addressing. This is not at all to say that I think he needs to go back to using his old/birth name or some shit (frankly, it's more of the opposite)-- but if he really is committing to the "Ciel Phantomhive" route, I think he still has a ways to go when it comes to defining that name for himself, to take his power and agency as the Ciel Phantomhive that he wants to be, and not as some dubious stand-in for someone that he thinks better of.

Sebastian has not solidified his commitment to their contract in the same way that Ciel continually has. I feel like this is going to be the most relevant when it comes to whatever shit Mr. Modri Vladis starts digging back up with regards to Sebastian's past-- clearly, there is something Different about this current contract for Sebastian, and I don't think he's fully processed that yet. Personally, I don't really doubt that Sebastian is still perfectly capable of chowing down on Ciel the second his time comes, dude's been blueballing himself out of that meal for literally almost 20 real life years by this point, but how is he actually going to feel about it? Will he hesitate? Will he regret it? He may not have a past in the same way as the humans of this story, but what is his side to all of this? Who is he, if not the Earl Phantomhive's butler?

AAAAAAAAARRAHAURAGHHG YANA-SENSEI PLEASE. PLEASE. I don't even know what I'm begging for at this point. Just Please. Where are these bitches gonna end up, I still feel like I Just Don't Know. I really do think that Ciel is gonna get eaten. But the specifics of how, and why, and when, I'm really not sure I can tell. Regardless, as I said in my little sidenote for the Memory Arc, I really don't think it can be quite so straightforward as it was at the end of S1 by this point-- the connections, the blood, it all runs too deep now. None of this is going to be easy.

We're in the midst of Some Shit now. The story is clearly picking back up, the plot moving forward as we start to near the point where these bloodlines converge, back to the perspective of the two Big Ones. Frankly, I don't think I have any real fuckin' idea where this shit is actually going to end up. But fuck if I'm not excited out of my mind to find out >w<

[inkandguns]

The Carmen Story: Medical idiocy and corruption at its finest

During my last year working in medicine I had a patient come for an appointment that had obviously been injured during an IV stick. She was a middle aged Hispanic lady and her chronic pain made her kinda bitchy some days, but she was generally pretty sweet.

She had some kind of procedure or lab done at another clinic and showed me her hand afterwards. I immediately knew what happened. She had very slender hands but prominent veins, and the tech had punctured all the way through and struck a nerve. She had a monster bruise and her hand was very swollen. We did a quick U/S to check for a needle or cath fragment, and then sent her off to xray. I told her to call the clinic and talk to them.

She tried calling with her issue and was immediately met with hostility. This is retarded. The easiest way to avoid lawsuits in medicine is to treat the patients well, like you’d treat your own mother or beloved family member. When she told them something might have gone wrong with the IV stick, they got off the phone with her and stopped taking her calls.

Of course Carmen returns to my clinic, showing clear signs of nerve damage. I told her I’d put a call in to the clinic she had the procedure at. I told her about “administrative settlement”, and that it would be the right thing if the ppl who injured her paid for her care. I called the other clinic, and the assistant got super shitty with me right away. When I called back for a manager they hung up on me.

They could have gotten off cheap by treating the injury they caused, but instead they got dragged in to a legal battle. My advice to Carmen was to hire the best injury attorney she could afford. I gave her my documentation and that was that. I still don’t know why anyone would want to escalate the issue past administrative settlement. They risked millions on a shitty bet and I really hope she beat them.

[preblacksmith20]

Who are you?

pairing: multiple drivers on the grid, oscar piastri x reader, george russell x reader, max verstappen x reader

genre: general fluff, established relationship, just good vibes

content: Your boyfriend finds out some information about you that you hadn't gotten around to telling him yet. Or the feeling when someone drops lore about themselves that's so absurd it's shocking.

------

Lando Norris

“How far away do you think it is?”  Lando asked Carlos. The two of them were enjoying a nice day on the golf course together. You and Carlos’ girlfriend, Luna, were tagging along and the two of you had already hit your approach shot. Luna and Lando’s balls had been close.

“146. 137 with slope.” You said to yourself. Luna turned to the guys and waited for an answer.

Carlos put the scope down. “146.”

“How do you do that?” Luna asked, having heard you call the shots for the past eight holes. “Lando! Did you know your partner is psychic?”

“Yeah!” Lando said, shading his eyes watching the ball. “How did you find out?”

“She’s been calling the distance perfectly.” Luna said.

“Pace of play, everyone!” You playfully slapped your hands on the wheel and drove off. You weren’t trying to cut the conversation but the current marshal, Jerry, had it out for you and Lando after the ‘swimming clubs’ incident. And Jerry was watching the four of you from the clubhouse, your spot on hole nine giving him a perfect vantage point.

“On ward!” Lando said, giving you a playful wink, probably thinking of the incident. Laughing, Lando and Carlos got in their cart and off the group went.

You all enjoyed the rest of the round. Carlos and Lando broke 70, you shot 85, and Luna gave up after hitting four balls into the pond on 14. She had fun driving the cart though.

Sitting in the clubhouse and enjoying a few drinks, Luna brought up your uncanny ability to get the distances right again. Lando had an arm behind your chair and kissed your lips. “It’s because you’re made of magic.”

“True true but it’s all surveying.” You waved your hand to knock the suggestion away.

“Ah yes.” He grinned. “My fake engineer.”

This time you smacked him in the chest. The rest laughed. You had graduated with a degree in civil engineering and had gotten used to your college friends giving you a hard time about it. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before, but with a few drinks in you and drunk on a good afternoon with the man you love made you jut your chest out.

“Could a fake engineer have won the national championship with their survey team?” You challenged and poked your tongue out.

“Baby, you know I think-wait.” He frowned. “What did you just say?”

“I think your partner just said she won a national championship in surveying.” Carlos grinned and Luna clapped. “How come you never said?”

“I still think you’re psychic.” Luna winked over her glass. You winked back.

“Yeah, how come you never said?” Lando asked, ready to give you the floor to explain everything you’ve ever done in your life. He looked at you like you held all the stars in the sky, his eyes turning back into hearts.

“It’s boring.” You waved your hand in the air. You weren’t being humble; you knew it wasn’t the most exciting national competition. Even with other civil engineers it was very hit or miss. “But if you want fun college stories, I’d much rather tell you about the jousting classes my friend signed me up for.”

“Can my partner get any cooler?” Lando’s eyes scrunched up in the way that made your heart melt. “Come on, glasses up.”

Lando raised a glass to you, giggling in his endearing way, and kissed your blushing cheek. You couldn’t help but laugh along and knock your glass to his.

Over another round, you told them about the countless times you got your butt knocked into the dirt, almost trampled by a horse, and how you accidentally stabbed your instructor. Carlos and Luna asked questions about the time you got knocked off the horse and had to engage in sword combat because the second instructor believed in historical accuracy. Lando was in tears when you told them about the time you and your best friend put on fake moustaches and bound your chests and convinced the male students to pretend to behead you in front of said second instructor – for historical accuracy of course.

When the other couple was busy getting ready to leave, Lando leaned over, cheeks still wet from crying, and said, “I need ya to tell me more about that competition thingy later. I want to know everything about you.”

------

Oscar Piastri

“Bastard.”

Truly, you hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Oscar and you were enjoying a nice week after his triple-header watching some cricket. His favorite cricket team’s star player had pulled off an amazing play and you had reacted with more annoyance than usual. You were just frustrated – the wounds still fresh having been out to dinner with your friend the night before.

But the deafening silence and Oscar’s slow turn to look at you let you know the words came out.

“Hypocrite, much?” Oscar laughed but his quirked brows begged for an answer.

“What?” Now it was your turn to wear the same expression.

“Oh, come on!” He sat up, a ‘let’s-see-you-explain-this-one’ smile graced his face. “Last week I called Jessica on that real estate show a ‘stone cold bitch’ and you said judging them like that was rude.”

“Because we don’t know them!” You laughed remembering his faux venom towards Jessica last week after she upstaged Jeanne at the showing. “You wouldn’t like it if people judged you solely on Drive, right?”

“But we don’t-wait, are you saying you know Donnie?” Oscar stared at you, eyes wide. When you couldn’t find the words in time, his eyes grew wider. “How do you know him?”

“Did.” You correct feebly. You sigh and Oscar gets into a better position to face you. In his eyes, the match was forgotten, and you were now the main center of entertainment. It was bound to come up eventually. You were surprised it had not come up in conversation yet. “He dated my friend, cheated on her, and then ‘accidentally’ broke another friend’s hand when he came to defend her.”

“When was this?” Oscar blinked rapidly, trying to process it.

“Well…” It was now your turn to blush. You were holding onto a grudge from years ago, like a child. “My friend and I just made the junior Olympic team – so we were probably 13 or 14? Look, I know it’s silly to hold that against him, but he used to be such a brat-,”

Oscar placed a hand on your lips. His lips quirked up and his eyes glowed. “I’m sorry, but when did you make the junior Olympic team? How have you not talked about that before? How did I not know this? Who are you?”

“I told you I used to play-,” you said around his fingers. He pulled them back and placed them on your thigh.

“Casually!” He laughed, the absurdity coming through. “You never said you were that good!”

“Oscar,” You gave him a look. “I’ve showed you my old team photos!”

“I just thought it was a little league thing! You had shown me the photos offhandedly.” Oscar’s grin was infectious, but you still rolled your eyes.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t read the title of the photo!” You defended. He squeezed your thigh as he laughed. He pointed to the screen.

“So you know him? Why didn’t you say anything?” Bemused, he looked between you and the screen that was highlighting your school-yard nemesis.

“Well.” You blush. “He’s one of your favorite players and bringing it up did feel childish. I didn’t want to ruin something you enjoyed.”

Laughing, he pulled you close to his chest. “You could never ruin this for me.”

You smiled into his chest and snuggled closer. After a beat of silence, he spoke again. “So are there any old videos of you playing?”

“Yes, but not too many. To my parents’ constant shame, I quit the next year to join an after-school bowling team because I thought it was more fun.”

“You what?!”

---

Max Verstappen

He had spotted the crying girl first. You had noticed the twitch of concern on his face and turned in the direction he was facing. The two of you had found a quiet corner of the center to enjoy a moment of each other’s time before he would inevitably be pulled away. His hand had been on your back, warm and reassuring.

“What’s wrong?” Being slightly shorter, you couldn’t see whatever he was looking at. He tilted your head up and you saw he was looking at the balcony.

“A small kid. She looks lost.” He slipped his hand from your back and threaded his fingers through your hand. The two of you made your way up the stairs, you carefully trying to avoid the hem of your dress.

At the top, you found the girl had moved to a corner. She was crying, but at the sight of you two she seemed to want to disappear more. The two of you knelt down and Max tried to speak to her, but she just kept shaking her head and moving her hands. Max, helpless, look to you for some backup.

Fortunately, you understood.

With a practiced ease, your hands moved through the space in front of you. It had been a long time since you had signed with someone else in person. You and the small girl went back and forth, oblivious to Max’s razor-sharp gaze on you. Ever so often you stopped to translate to Max out loud without breaking the conversation with the girl, Emma.

“Her dad is Cas Albreen. He’s wearing a tie with small cats on it. She got it for him for Father’s Day.” You looked up at him, pausing to take in the warmth in his eyes, before pushing him towards the stairs. “You have your target, love. Bring him up here once you find him.”

“I’ll be right back.” He gave you one last look before he took off down the stairs. You beckoned the girl back out to the spot she was before – hoping if Max didn’t find him immediately, the father would know to look up. You watched Max move through the crowd efficiently and effectively. Many people tried to stop him for a conversation, but the media training kicked in and he found a way out as quickly as he could. Always inspecting the ties of the men that he passed.

You kept Emma entertained for a few more minutes, fully trusting your partner to get the job done. And it wasn’t long before you heard Max’s voice coming up the stairwell – his Dutch always something that went right to your heart. The dad swept the girl up into his arms – both tearful at that point.

The dad thanked the two of you profusely. Max told him it was no trouble. You said your goodbyes to Emma.

The two of you saddled next to one another at the top of the overlook.

“How long have you been able to do that?” He made a small gesture with his hands – as if it needed clarifying. You smiled, looking out over the gala below the two of you.

“Remember Rina?” You asked, although you knew he did. She was the one who introduced the two of you. You and she had met when she did an exchange year at your school. “Her favorite cousin, Lotte, the one that came with her, was deaf. I learned some so she wouldn’t feel left out. Lotte and I stayed in touch after she went home early. She was kind enough to keep teaching me.”

“But Rina is Dutch?” Max said, the gears turning in his head. You turned to look at him, unsure where the question was going, but he had that look where he was trying to get to the answer himself, so you stayed silent. “Hold on. Was that Dutch sign language?”

Ah. You laughed. While you didn’t speak Dutch, you were learning – you still had a long way to go to be conversational. Taking your amusement as an answer, Max ducked his head and shook it.

“So, your signing is better than your spoken?” Max gave a short laugh, before staring at you like you were a stranger and not the one he had been dating for roughly two years. “Who are you?”

“I’m still me, my love.” You kissed his cheek before patting it fondly. Max kissed you hand and rubbed it gently. “Come, we should rejoin the party.”

Max nodded. “But after, will you teach me some signs?”

Laughing and in love, the two of you returned to the party – counting the seconds until you could leave.

------

George Russell

You blamed Alex for the conversation derailing. The dinner was going well and the boys were going back forth over the latest race. George had invited Kimi to join them and you were excited to get to know the younger driver that George had taken under his metaphorical wing. You got to sit next to Alex, across from George, which allowed Kimi to sit next to George.

What neither had expected was the way Kimi kept giving you a funny look when you laughed or joked with Alex. Kimi had gone to the restroom and George and Alex told you it was probably nothing. George promised to talk to Kimi about it later. You assured him it was fine. The kid wasn’t being rude, he just seemed to be trying to figure something out.

Kimi returned from the restroom and took a seat.

“Hey, my friend is going to Taiwan.” Alex said as he turned to you. “You used to live there for a bit, right?”

You nodded and raised the wine glass to your lips. You had done the last two years of high school in Taiwan and stayed for more language exchange. Kimi froze, but none of you noticed.

“Would you mind if I gave him your number?” Alex asked, polite as ever. “He has a bunch of questions, and I figured you would be the better resource. He’s also an avid hiker and I know you are all about that.”

“I would be happy-,” you had started to say, but Kimi slammed his glass down. You all turned to him with a mixed of concerned expressions, but he didn’t even blink. His eyes were zeroed in on you like the starting lights.

“Whygopashan!” Kimi grinned and now it was your turn to freeze. You hadn’t heard that name in years. “I kept trying to figure out where I heard your voice before! I used to watch those videos all the time! That’s you, right?”

Shock had taken you first. You shook it off though, defrosting from Kimi’s adamant enthusiasm. He reached for his phone and began typing.

“Yeah,” You laughed nervously. “I can’t believe you watched that. That was years ago!”

“Want to fill the rest of us in, sweetheart?” George asked. You looked at him and his lips were twitched in bemusement and excitement. Under the table he pressed his foot against your own. You pressed back, enjoying the small and unnoticed touch.

Your face was going red. “Yes, well, I used to run a Youtube channel while I was in Taiwan. It was originally just to record the hikes so if anyone couldn’t physically walk, they would still get to see the beauty. But it was like really small-,”

“This video has 7 million views.” Kimi said, turning his phone to the rest of you.

“What?!” All three of you leaned forward. Lo and behold, Kimi was telling the truth. Over seven million people had watched the video. It was one of your later videos, a random interview. Usually, you just hiked up and down – keeping the camera pointed away from your face. That video a fan had reached out to invite you on a hike of YuShan, he had secured a lottery ticket to climb. It was a large enough group so you had agreed.

“Yeah!” Kimi was beaming now, his mystery finally solved. He looked at you with half admiration and half satisfaction. “Your voice was really soothing and I would put it on in the background to study. I liked this interview a lot.”

“I was trying to improve my Mandarin and learn some Taiwanese.” You explained, turning your gaze to Alex and George. George just looked at you, his expression thoughtful. One finger over his lips. You blushed, furiously, under his intense expression.

“Well one of the people you interviewed became like a huge singer.” Kimi turned his phone back to look at the comments. “Yeah, she was the lead singer of DemandFour!”

“No way!” Alex was already pulling his phone up and looking up the old channel.

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” George asked, lips twitching behind his finger. Amuzed was one word for his expression.

“It was years ago!” You held your hands out in front of you. “I had mostly forgotten about it.”

“You think you know someone. And here I thought I was the only one that would get recognized between the two of us.” He shook his head, clearly being playful.

“Besides, that was high school me!” You glanced at Alex’s screen and cringed. “I had kinda put that behind me.”

“I’m sure it’s not that-,” George started, but Alex shook his head.

“No, it’s definitely that bad. Seriously?” He turned to you as if seeing you in a whole new light. “The side ponytail? On a…nine mile hike?”

George’s face lit up, pushed his seat back and stood up. You tried to sink back into your seat – hoping to disappear from existence. Alex and Kimi were looking at one another’s screens, giggling like children.

“Alex, you’ve got the bill. Kimi, you’re old enough to find your way back to the hotel.” George said, already grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the vallet. “We’ve got bigger things tonight, boys.”

[sgtmickeyslaughter]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

hey @jrooc @energievie and @deedala

Name: Gigi

Something embarrassing that was popular while you were in highschool: Peak art ho, mom jeans and striped tops and doc Martin mary janes and all the mustard yellow

Did you play a sport in high school? I did surf team, swim/dive, and water polo. Before that I played roller hockey as a kid.

Do you like sports? Yeah! I’m pretty competitive, I’m a good athlete, I think it hugely improves my mood/mental health and I meet people I wouldn’t otherwise have anything in common with which I love

Do you like sports AU's (now we're talking your language right?): I’m not especially fired up by them in general, but I’ve definitely read some good ones. 

Are you active or do you play a sport: Running, run club, yoga and occasionally tennis against a wall

...But like have you done team sports: I really want to join a recreational soccer/rugby league when I have a little more time! I’ve never played either but I just think it would be fun to try

Okay choose your favorite sport if you had to watch one: Hockey or surfing 

Why this one: Hockey is very fast paced and dynamic—there is a real beauty in the way the athletes move on ice and the rhythm of play that makes it really fun to watch. Surfing is another beautiful sport and it has a really unique culture associated with it

If you woke up tomorrow a professional athelete, what sport would you play? Surfing

Would you fall for a teammate? Hell yeah, that’s hot 

Favorite sports media you've ever seen/read (book/fic/movie/TV show): Endless Summer, Bend it Like Beckham, Challengers, I, Tonya, The Mighty Ducks, Eephus, etc. I love sports movies.

Do you like to wear sports jerseys cause they're cute? I have a Brazil soccer shirt I pull out in the summer, the most iconic sports jersey 

What's a weird sports related fact about you or story? I have always been able to claim jersey #3 in team sports

tagging:

@lingy910y @mmmichyyy @gallawitchxx @atthedugouts @runninonemptyy @casey-ackkat @stocious @solitarycreaturesthey @mybrainismelted @softmick @gardenerian @heymrspatel @sickness-health-all-that-shit @kiennilove @mickittotheman

[muckablucka]

how it feels to find song lyrics that fit your OC perfectly:

[unproduciblesmackdown]

bloodsong of oh shit....oh fuck

[impidimp]

I keep seeing people say they want Edwin and Charles to stay just friends and like I would have been fine with that if they hadn't queercoded the hell out of Charles and their relationship

[xxplastic-cubexx]

sorry if you've already mentioned but what (re?)ignited your love of comics/x-men/cherik? curious because there are so many different adaptations of them

i think im gonna speak for a few (or a lot of) people when i say that TL;DR the wolverine x deadpool movie that came out this summer is what pulled me back into comics and i COULD leave it there but i will go into excruciating and unnecessary detail instead because i love an origin story and i love oversharing.

under the cut tho because im nice sometimes (there's also wxdp doodles in here. if you want to see that)

ironically (and probably commonly), growing up i was more of an avengers kid. Kinda. Loosely <- binge watched the cartoons and movies and read copious amounts of comics and fics and i am hoarding fanart in my old dresser as we speak ok 'loosely' is a modest lie.

embarrassingly i remember getting into discus cause of captain america LMAO so yeah needless to say i was a Humble Fan- me joining my school's comic class/club didnt help either (shoutout to my teach from that she was the realest one out there for. A Multitude of reasons). she definitely is was inspires me to even draw still and make comics and i often think bout the tips i learned from her class tbh she was great

back to the movies t and comics tho, i got into em because my brother would offer to take me and that's how we'd hang out (i rarely saw movies in theaters and i even more rarely went anywhere as a teenager. still kinda like that today tbh ooops) and yk. it just snowballed after that.

my brother and i have always liked comics- he just more than me for a while (though he still very much loves comics and As We Know From My Posts we still talk about them whenever i see him To An Exhausting Degree)

durin then i was really into stony and i have a few surviving doodles i made but those are between me and god. and anyone who asks tbh LOL

'snap can you make this related to x-men again this is long' ok so fast forward to This Summer again I Still Don't Really See Movies but my brother offered to take me and this was the first time i'd actually seen an x-men movie in full

as a kid i only remember seeing the 'perfection' scene between erik and raven in first class while i was channel surfing. pretty sure i changed the channel after seeing mystique naked cause i was scared my parents would get mad at me if they caught me watching it LOL

BUT MOVING ON As A Kid i think it's also natural you'll sometimes watch 92 if it's on And I Did though evidently it didn't stick too hard (i do remember really liking beast and gambit though.... still do really): my knowledge of x-men was. INCREDIBLY sparse. like diabolically so so i didnt have too much expectations (aside from the fact i vaguely liked deadpool beforehand).

tbh i dont know why my bro never took me to see any of the x-men movies. it's not like he doesn't Also like x-men (90% sure nightcrawler's his favorite but my brother will be caught dead saying he has absolute favorites like that)- he owns a bitch load of deadpool comics/omnibus sets too (of which ive read over the years and reread this year) but Shrug moving on

Much Like Most Of The Internet i fell down the rabbit hole that way. i have some doodles i made a couple days after seeing WxDP that i now have an excuse to throw at all of you Look And Perceive

and so. As I Do. i got curious and told myself i'd binge watch all the x-men movies the week before i went back to school And Then I Did ft. My Brother Sometimes and then i said i'd binge watch all of '92 and And I Did That ft. My Brother Sometimes But Less So and now we're here. currently watching Evolution...

once i got to school i realized i lived near a comic shop and started getting into the comics that way (the first ones i got since going down this rabbit hole was Magneto Was Right!, The Resurrection of Magneto, and The Trial of Magneto. if you were curious !!!!! clearly i didnt care too much about context i just needed to see My Guy jelvejlkvj i have no regrets and Evidently ive read more since)

i'm pretty sure what dragged me into cherik specifically was the fact i saw a clip of The Famous ending to 92 where erik's aghast at the notion jean even has to question his love for charles. i think that was what officially had me refocus my lens on them: not a single poolverine thought after that LOL (all the cherik posting i saw on twitter definitely helped too but that was the nail in the coffin for any other interests i had: i was locked into cherik and x-men in general now)

that clip specifically, i was surprised at the fact they- frequently even- have the x-men franchise say erik loves charles and vice versa so bluntly. even if it's not meant to be romantic, i fear im just a fan of how casually the word's thrown around with them two and i got tender bout it all. Then Yk. i just live for the drama. the hilarity even. the sincerity .... they make me sick if i think of them too long so im gonna end it here

before i go tho ironically enough, the first x-men issue i owned was This one (story a this is that while stuck in some wacko dimension charles accidentally gets himself trapped in logan's mind while utilizing his astral projection. if you were curious). pretty sure i got it for free with another comic set i got years ago since our old comic shop loved to do that, but it's poetic aint it. maybe ill doodle something referencing it..

i should probably look into finishing this arc someday im Dummy curious to even know how it started and how it ends.....

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[knightofgoetia]

you guys realize that things (the DMC Netflix anime) don't necessarily need to be either (1) the equivalent to the Holy Grail or (2) like it killed your grandma. you guys realize 'mediocre' and 'generic' exist. right.