#i have been screaming internally for 6 hours

[thesunsethour]

had the most infuriating class today. it was on adaptations of sherlock holmes. there are ENDLESS possibilities for discussion here. how does victorian homosociality appear in a modern day adaptation? how does the fin-de-siècle class structure get adapted in modern day london? how do our shared cultural perceptions of holmes impact the way writers adapt conan-doyle’s stories today? do you want to guess what people talked most about. it was 2014 tumblr. a good hour of *masters’ students* being like “haha i was a child of 2014 tumblr and so obviously sherlock was gay for watson i think our shared understanding of sherlock holmes is looking at gifsets of them staring at each other and reading fanfic on tumblr” YOU ARE DOING A MASTERS DEGREE IN LITERATURE. i don’t even care if you’re going to bring up tumblr in class (but please have a sense of shame) but only if you are going to make actual interesting nuanced points. how did fandom culture change our perception of holmes? do you think the lack of explicit romantic tension in the show was a cowardly move on behalf of the show runners? how is sexuality treated in the show? what fanfic tropes are applied most, why do we think that is, and how does that relate to the core text that it is based on?

i must confess i never understood the appeal of sherlock in the way i did supernatural or doctor who. but i was around back then. i saw what everyone was doing. i get it. but i also recognise that in a discussion class for a masters degree maybe we should be broadening our horizons a bit.

also the “haha i was on tumblr in 2014” jokes are sooo not funny. girl some of us are still here. my mutuals and i are all college graduates now. we have degrees and jobs and an appreciation for nuance. take my stupid website’s name out of your mouth

[mejomonster]

What is it about internal pain that hurts so much more than external pain :c

[imaginespazzi]

Part 2: And Even Now

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

Because I'll never let this go (but I can't find the words to tell you)

(In which a deadline-averse writer actually lives up to a weekly deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, A little bit of fluff I guess?

Words: 6.9K (back to my usual)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Happy Monday! Nobody get used to me actually updating on a proper weekly basis because really, let's be honest you're all lowkey shocked I'm actually living up to this too but we'll see how long I can make it last. As you read, let's just all remember my favorite three words: For. The. Plot! Editing and I continue to be sworn enemies so you'll definitely find typos along the way and feel free to point them out so that I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful rest of your week my loves <3

February 2033

Azzi’s heart is beating a million miles per minute as she gets into her car. She’s just invited Paige into her world  and even if she knows that it was the right thing to do for her team, the full force of what she’s just done is starting to hit her. The plan had been the exact opposite. In fact the plan had been to avoid Paige at all costs while she was here in Oakland. Azzi had spent nearly a decade building this new world of hers that was devoid of anything Paige and it had taken Ohemaa an hour, explaining why Paige was the last domino they needed to fall to win a championship, to convince Azzi to bulldoze her own walls. 

Banging her head against the steering wheel, Azzi lets out a frustrated scream. She’d been the picture of calm and composed while talking to Paige, but internally an earthquake had started rumbling within her the minute she’d finally laid eyes on the blonde. It was unfair that age seemed to have no effect on Paige, unfair that she still made Azzi’s stomach do somersaults, unfair that that stupid smirk made Azzi nostalgic for a feeling she used to call home. It’s funny really. There was a time in Azzi’s life where she didn’t know how she’d survive without seeing Paige every day. But now if the blonde does accept her offer, Azzi thinks, seeing Paige every day, might just be her poison ivy. 

The sound of her car doors opening shakes Azzi out of her pity party, as she rushes to compose herself before Stephie sees her. Through the rear view mirror, she watches as her daughter happily climbs into her car seat, a giddy smile on her face. And all the stress and anxiety seems to evaporate. 

“What’s got you so happy Stephie bean? What did you and Aunty Leen do?” Azzi asks, so focused on Stephie’s grin, that she misses Colleen, who’s just let herself into the passenger seat, shaking her head.

“Aunty Leen lost me,” Stephie says coyly and Azzi immediately turns to Colleen whose head whips around to look at the little girl in the back seat. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd are you lying on my good name?” she hisses. 

“Stephie,” Azzi chides, catching on quickly “did you run away from Aunty Leen again?”

“She was boring me Mama,” Stephie whines, sticking her tongue out at Colleen, “and if I didn’t run away, then I wouldn’t have met Miss Buecks.”

Oh.

She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple.

Azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. She hadn’t quite registered that Paige’s words from before meant that she must have met Stephie, too busy finding a way to get out of the gym that was starting to feel just a little too hot. It only clicks now as Stephie starts to ramble about how she’d ran into a stranger in the chill room. But it’s not the idea of Stephie and Paige meeting that sends a shiver creeping up Azzi’s spine. No, it’s that enamored smile on Stephie’s face. It’s the way Azzi’s little girl’s eyes light up just saying those two syllables Miss Buecks. Maybe it’s genetic or perhaps just a Fudd family fatal flaw but Azzi can see a fourteen year old version of herself, blooming in Stephie. She’d hidden it well, behind exasperated head shakes and exaggerated eye rolls but falling in love with Paige Bueckers had been just a little to easy back then. Apparently, it still was. 

“She was really nice Mama,” Stephie gushes and Azzi’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, “is she gonna come play for your team? I told her she should.”

“So I heard,” Azzi murmurs and she can feel Colleen’s eyes immediately shifting to look at her. 

“You talked to Paige?” Azzi’s best friend asks, a skeptical lilt in her voice. 

Azzi shrugs, “I ran into her in the gym.”

“And what exactly were you doing in the gym?” 

“Looking for Paige,” Azzi says sheepishly as Collen makes an indiscernible noise.

“Did you ask her to join your team Mama?” Stephie chimes in eagerly from the back, unaware of the way that the childlike hope in her voice is putting her mother on edge. Azzi has built an impenetrable fortress around her own heart but she’d never considered that perhaps she should have built a moat around Stephie’s too. 

“Yeah baby, I did,” Azzi admits slowly and this time Colleen lets an audible gasp, except it’s drowned out by a series of exhilarated squeals erupting from the backseat. 

“MISS BUECKS IS GONNA JOIN MAMA’S TEAM,” Stephie screams, practically bouncing on her seat as she begins to repeat the phrase in a sing-song voice. 

“Hold your horses, kid. She hasn’t said yes yet,” Azzi warns. 

Stephie smiles secretly, “but she will Mama, I know she will.”

It makes Azzi feel lightheaded, the amount of trust Stephie seems to already have in a stranger. There’s a part of her that wants to crawl into her daughter’s mind and erase the memory of blonde hair and blue eyes because she knows, she knows better than anyone, that once you walk through that door, there is no coming back. And Paige would never willingly hurt Stephie -even after a decade apart Azzi has that much faith in the blonde- but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t break her heart any way. 

Colleen turns to Azzi, a look of unmistakable concern on her face as she makes a show of putting her hand against the darker-skinned girl’s forehead, “are you feeling okay?”

“Oh fudge off,” Azzi groans, swatting away her best friend’s hand

“Azzi let me get this straight, you’re telling me you asked your e-x-g-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d to join your team?”

“Look at you spelling Col, I’m so proud of you-”

“Don’t start,” Colleen shoots her a look and Azzi sighs, “what happened to going into Ohemaa’s office and making sure that didn’t happen?”

“I did what I had to,” Azzi shrugs, “I put the team first.”

“And what about-”

“Colleen please,” Azzi begs softly, a wave of tiredness washing over her, “it’s done okay. And it might not even matter. She might not even say yes.”

Colleen opens her mouth and then sighs, seeing something in Azzi’s face that convinces her not to push. There isn’t anyone else in the world who knows Azzi better than her best friend, except maybe the woman they’re talking about. Paige would’ve pushed, she always had. Pushed and pushed until Azzi was letting herself free fall off a cliff, only harnessed by Paige’s promise to catch her before she hit the ground. And then one day Azzi had unclipped the harness, and it was their relationship that had come crashing down. 

“Mama,” Stephie’s inquisitive voice calls from behind and Azzi hums in response, starting up her car, “you knew Miss Bueckers when she was littler right?”

“I knew her when she was younger,” Azzi corrects gently and knew feels like an understatement. They’d lived in each other’s skin, carving themselves onto parts of each other they hadn’t even known existed until the other had come along. 

“Same thing Mama,” Stephie huffs, “was she still so pretty then?”

And as pictures of a younger Paige, beautiful and vibrant like the sun shining on the pavement after a thunderstorm, dance through her mind, Azzi can’t stop the soft smile that flitters across her face. 

“She’s always been the prettiest.”

***

Paige isn’t feeling particularly talkative when her phone rings, Talia’s name flashing on the CallerID. Her senses are still drowned in all things Azzi and she’s not quite ready to be rescued from the ocean of memories that have suddenly flooded her entire being. She wants to lose herself in them, let herself be drawn back to what was. Paige has spent the better part of the last decade running away from her past but today, for the first time, all she wants is to let this slideshow of nostalgia keep on playing through her mind. 

“Talia if you’re calling just to say I told you so,” Paige sneers into the phone, finally picking it up after the ringing starts to give her a mild headache. She’d texted Thalia almost immediately after speaking to Azzi, a simple i think i could make the Valks work, purposely leaving out what, or more precisely who, had convinced her. 

“I would never,” Talia says with a hint of amusement, “if I started telling you I told you so after every time I was right, I fear I’d never have anything else to say to you because I am in fact, always right.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “alright then if you’re done gloating.”

“I didn’t call to gloat,” the manager’s voice is more serious now, “I called to tell you that I talked to the Liberty and they have an offer.”

“The Liberty don’t have cap space,” Paige says slowly, stomach suddenly queasy.

“They don’t have cap space this season,” Talia corrects, “but things are gonna change for them with Sabrina retiring after this season and they can move a couple of other things around to give us what we want next season.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the Valkyries don’t have to be anything more than a pit stop. I know I pressured you into this but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been trying to figure something else out for you behind the scenes.”

“And I assume you’ve talked to Ohemaa too then?”

Talia scoffs, “do I look like an amateur agent to you? Of course I have. This works for them too. If all goes to plan, they have the rights to Atlanta’s #3 pick in the draft and if the mocks have gotten it right, they’ll get Angie Davis.”

“The Stanford PG,” Paige breathes out. 

“Exactly. She’ll get a year developing under you and then hopefully they won’t need you next year. And you won’t need them. Everybody wins.”

It sounds like the perfect solution. The Valkyrie’s would get what they need out of her and she’d get what she needed out of them. Then they’d part ways and Paige’s past would no longer be a factor in her present once she got to New York. One year and then everything would fall into place the way she’d wanted it to. It should fill her with excitement or relief or maybe even both but instead Paige feels nothing but unease, like she’s sealing herself to a fate of never truly having a home. 

She rubs a tired hand across her face, “what if I don’t want to leave after a year?”

“Then we can talk about it in a year. You’re not signing anything other than a one-year contract with the Valkyries right now and letting both them and the Liberty know that you're keeping your options open,” Talia says, her tone perfectly business-like. 

“Good,” Paige lets out a small sigh of relief at knowing she isn’t about to get herself legally bound to anything, “that’s good.”

“Why don’t you sound more happy about this Paige?” an irritated timbre slips into Talia’s words, “you were practically begging me to find you a way out of this and now that I have, it seems like you would rather I hadn’t.”

“The Valkyries are a good organization. Good front office, good GM, good coach, good facilities and you know how much I’ve always loved the Bay Area. Every time we’ve come here to play, the atmosphere has always been amazing. This place breathes basketball and I just wanna be a part of that,” and Paige means every word of it, even if there are other reasons at play.

“But you already knew all of that before you went down there Paige so cut the bullshit. Why exactly are you suddenly on board with all of this?” Talia asks, her voice hardening and Paige hates that her manager, who had really been more of a friend for the last couple of years, knows her just a little too well. 

“I met someone-”

“Oh fucking hell,” Talia groans, “please tell me you’re not making career decisions with your pussy.”

“Don’t be crude Talia. After all these years, I think you’d know me better than that. I met a little girl,” an uncontrollably smitten grin flickers across Paige’s face as she thinks back to her conversation with Stephie, “and she- she made some good points about why I should be a Golden State Valkyrie. You’d be surprised how smart little kids are these days.”

Thalia’s voice is drenched in skepticism when she speaks again, “you met a little girl? Where?”

“At the Valkyries training facilities,” as soon as she says it Paige wishes she’d lied. 

“What was a little girl doing at-,” another loud groan echoes through Paige’s phone and she can practically picture her agent fighting back the urge to facepalm, “please tell me you’re not talking about Azzi Fudd’s daughter.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Paige says, trying to keep her voice light.

“Jesus fucking christ Paige so you are thinking with your pussy then. You’re telling me you wanna join GSV because your ex-girlfriend’s daughter thinks you should? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

No, Paige thinks, I want to join because my ex-girlfriend thinks I should. Except she’s pretty sure that wouldn’t go over any better with Talia. She knows it sounds insane, knows it’s a little pathetic the power Azzi still has over her, knows that it should have taken more than just Azzi’s little speech to change her adamant no into a resounding yes. But the truth is that the only good reason she’d even had to not want to go to GSV, was rooted in Azzi and once Azzi had removed that barrier, the decision had never seemed clearer. 

“You said it yourself Tals. It’s been years. This isn’t about her and me. It’s about basketball and it’s about winning,” Paige says finally, even if the words don’t sit sound right as they waterfall out of her mouth. 

“So this has nothing to do with Azzi Fudd?” Talia inquires. 

“Nothing other than the fact that she’s the best shooting guard in the country and together we can be the best backcourt in the WNBA. Azzi Fudd,” it’s the first time Paige has said her name in a long time and it ignites a fire on the tip of her tongue “is my past and she’ll never be anything more than a future teammate, not again. Besides,” Paige’s stomach churns as the next words leave her mouth, “like you said. GSV doesn’t have to be anything more than a temporary pit stop.”

***

Putting away her weights, Azzi uses her forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She hides a smile as her eyes fall on Stephie. A look of pure concentration marks her daughter’s face as she puts her full little body into lifting a set of 2kg weights. It’s become their Sunday routine. Azzi comes to the Valkyrie’s fitness center to train and Stephie follows along, pitter pattering behind Azzi and trying to mimic every exercise her mother attempts. 

“Mama,” Stephie gushes as she catches Azzi’s eyes in the mirror, “I did twenty today. I think I can do the 3kg ones next time.”

Azzi laughs, walking over and bending down to give the little girl a high-5, “oh yeah? You think you’re ready to move onto the next level.”

“Yeah I am!” Stephie cheers, trying to flex her biceps, “look how big they’re getting.”

“Oh my god baby they’re almost bigger than mine,” Azzi says dramatically, flexing her own arms right next to Stephie’s. 

“Just give me a year,” Stephie promises, giggling as she wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, “I’m gonna be the strongest Fudd.”

Azzi lifts her up with ease, pressing a delicate kiss against her daughter’s hair as the little girl settles into her side, hands immediately playing with the “S” necklace around Azzi’s neck. 

“When Miss Buecks joins your team, do you think she can come ex-cise with us too?” Stephie asks shyly and Azzi sighs as she grabs for her gym bag. 

She should have expected the question really. In the hours that had passed since Stephie had met Paige, the older woman’s name seemed to have risen to the top of the little girl’s vocabulary. Every little thing they’d done since had been accompanied by the mention of Miss Buecks, either a plea to have Paige join them next time or Stephie gushing about how she just knew Miss Buecks would be good at this too. 

“You know kid, I’m beginning to think you might like Miss Buecks more than me,” Azzi teases with a lightheartedness she doesn’t feel. But she won’t let her own discomfort bleed into Stephie’s excitement. 

“Don’t be silly Mama,” Stephie pulls at Azzi’s cheeks, “you’ll always be my favoritest.”

Don’t worry Az, you’ll always be my most favorite. It’s Paige's voice that echoes through her mind, casual and carefree and so, so honest. And she needs to stop doing this, needs to stop her brain from tying her present to the threads of her past, needs to stop her heart from letting Stephie and Paige be pieces of the same puzzle. It’s a dangerous wish she’d let bloom in secret for years but not all wishes are meant to come true, some are meant to tragically wilter in the darkness until they turn into a wistful what if. 

A shrill “MISS BUECKS,” breaks Azzi out of her thoughts as the child in her arms starts to wriggle out of her grasp the minute they step out of the fitness center. As soon as Stephie manages to get on the ground, she’s running before Azzi can get a word out to stop her. And all Azzi can do is watch as Paige turns around at the call of her name, neutral face breaking into a luminescent smile as she catches sight of Stephie running towards her. 

“MISS BUECKS,” Stephie squeals again, tiny hands outstretched as she picks up speed. 

“STEPHIE,” Paige matches the excitement in the little girl’s voice, swinging her into her arms and spinning her around before finally holding her firm against her hip. 

“I missed you,” Stephie confesses, “did you miss me?”

Paige's eyes soften as she nuzzles Stephies nose, “of course I did.”

Azzi feels paralyzed as she watches the scene unfold in front of her. Stephie excitedly chatters about some random topic and Paige seems mesmerized by the most mundane stories. And Azzi’s not sure if she’s floating or sinking, but she knows if she lets them, the tears begging to be released from her eyes could flood everything around her. Her hands fist of their own accord as she takes a step towards Paige and Stephie and it’s like a nightmare and a daydream all at once. 

“Mama look,” Stephie notices her first, “Miss Buecks is here.”

Paige looks over Stephie’s head and as cerulean blue eyes pierce into Azzi’s dark brown ones, she wonders if Paige is thinking of it too, of the future they used to talk about while curled up in one of their UConn dorms as their hands traced forever into each other’s palms.

“I can see that Steph,” she musters up a polite smile, “Hi Paige.”

She gets an equally polite smile back in return, “Hi Azzi.”

Her name sounds different on Paige’s lips and Azzi misses the way Paige’s eyes used to twinkle just saying it, the way her lips would curl around that one word like it carried the meaning of life itself. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie turns Paige’s face away from Azzi, hand resting against her cheek, “did you say yes to joining Mama’s team?”

Paige’s eyes flicker towards Azzi again, before coming back to rest on the hopeful little girl, “I did. I just signed the contract.”

Stephie screams, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck and Azzi expects Paige to at least flinch, but the blonde simply laughs, hugging Azzi’s little girl back with equal fervor. 

“I take it you’re happy,” Paige whispers. 

“I’m-,” Stephie crawls out from Paige’s neck to look at Azzi, “Mama what’s that big word you use es-est-”

“Ecstatic,” Azzi whispers, trying to pretend that Paige’s announcement hasn’t knocked the wind out of her. Hell has just become official and Azzi had personally invited it. 

“I’m es-tatic that you’re joining Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I told Mama that I knew you would. I'm gonna cheer so loud for you,” Stephie says, unaware that her innocent words feel like shards of broken glass piercing at Azzi’s skin. 

“That makes me ecstatic Stephie,” Paige says softly but there’s a hint of something else there that Azzi can’t quite place; the realization that she’s no longer as well-versed in the notes of Paige’s voice hits her like a hailstorm. 

“Welcome to Golden State,” she manages to stutter out and Paige’s eyes drift to her before warily looking down to her outstretched hands, “I think we’ll make a good team.”

“I’m counting on it,” Paige nods as she reaches out the hand that’s not holding Stephie. And the moment they touch, it’s still electric, like lightning during the first thunderstorm after a drought. They stare at each other and Azzi wonders if Paige is thinking it too, thinking that if only they’d held on like this eight years ago when they should have. Blinking away droplets of what happened to you and me forever, Azzi reluctantly lets go of Paige’s hand, ignoring the way the feeling of it still lingers, like it’s destined to etch itself onto Azzi’s palms. 

“Well Stephie bear, I think it’s time for us to go home,” she says slowly. 

Stephie crinkles her nose, “we’re not going home Mama. We’re getting ice cream,” she turns to Paige with a serious expression on her face, “we always get ice cream after ex-cise. Mama says it’s good for the soul.”

“She’s right. Ice cream is good for the soul,” Paige smiles, giving Azzi a knowing look. 

“OH,” Stephie shrieks, “Miss Buecks you should come with us so we can cel-bate you coming to Mama’s team.”

Azzi’s eyes widen, immediately getting ready to shut that dreadful idea down, “Miss Buecks is busy baby and she probably wants to celebrate with her own family.”

And if the word family makes Paige flinch, Azzi pretends she doesn’t notice. 

“You don’t wanna cel-bate with me Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks and Azzi knows that even if Paige had intended to decline Stephie’s offer, once her daughter gives her those big sad eyes, the already people-pleasing blonde won’t say no. 

“Nobody else I’d rather celebrate with,” Paige caves and Azzi sighs, switching her bag to her other shoulder. Some things would never change. Some things about Paige, she would always be able to predict. 

“Yay,” Stephie cheers, finally slipping down from Paige’s lap, only so she can lace one hand in Paige’s and the other in Azzi’s, “let’s go cel-bate.”

***

It’s the first time they’ve been in a car together in a decade, and still the instinct to reach out and grab Azzi’s hand as she drives, prickles against Paige’s fingertips. She tries to focus on the road ahead, tries to focus on whatever story Stephie is telling from the backseat, tries to focus on anything but the woman in the driver’s seat who used to be her passenger princess. 

“You’ve turned into a pretty good driver,” she quips slowly, trying to lighten the tension between them, “I’m only just a little bit scared for my life right now.”

Azzi cracks a small smile, “are you ready to admit I’m a better driver than you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Mama’s the best driver in the world,” Stephie chimes in loyally, “was she a bad driver when she was littler?”

“Younger,” Azzi corrects immediately, “and I was always a good driver, Steph. Don’t listen to Miss Buecks.”

Paige scoffs, “don’t believe her Stephie. She once nearly killed me.”

“I did not. I can’t believe you’re lying to my child.”

“Am I?” Paige cocks her head, “so you didn’t nearly back into me that one time during Christmas?”

“That doesn’t count,” Azzi protests, “I didn’t even know you were coming to surprise me. How was I supposed to know you were going to be right outside the garage door while I was trying to pull out.”

“There are these things on your car called mirrors Azzi, think maybe you should try and use them sometimes.”

“It was dark and I was in a hurry.”

“Where could you possibly have had to go that late on Christmas?”

“I was going to surprise you,” Azzi exclaims, “but you beat me to it so,” her voice fades off as an awkward silence cuts into the easy banter. The memory of that night is clear in Paige’s mind. Christmas 2021 when they’d been teetering on the edge between something and everything. They’d decided they’d meet up the day after Christmas to exchange presents, leaving the day of it just for their families. But the whole day had passed and Paige had been consumed by nothing but missing Azzi. And as soon as night fell, her mind was made up to go see her best friend. She hadn't known just how much Azzi had missed her too. Not until now. It’s funny, Paige thinks, they’d once been the kind of people who didn’t know how to exist when they spent a day apart. Now they were the kind of people who’d fought to spend nearly a decade apart.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie cuts in again, voice inquisitive, and Paige doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of hearing the little girl call for her; it fills her with a warmth she didn’t even know she had the capacity to feel, “Mama said you’ve always been the prettiest, even when you were littler.”

Paige’s eyes dart to Azzi, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches a pink hue spread across the brunette’s cheeks, “she said that?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, hands tightening on the steering wheel as she finally maneuvers into a parking lot. 

“She did,” Stephie confirms, “and she said you were really good at bask-ball and really smart. And then Aunty Leen said something in her ear and Mama got all shy.”

“Right Stephanie. I think that’s enough talk about what Mama said,” Azzi says as she finishes parking and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt, muttering something about inflated egos under her breath. 

“Nah Stephie,” Paige grins as gets out of the car, “I like hearing what your Mama said about me.”

It earns her a glare from Azzi and that only makes her smile harder. Paige is no stranger to praise and compliments but it’s always meant just a little more when it came from Azzi. And she’d never admit it to anyone but every time she’d come across a clip of Azzi praising her over the last couple years, she’d let the clip loop for far longer than she should have.

“You know what Bueckers,” Azzi says, “you’re buying our ice cream.”

“That’s not fair Mama,” Stephie chides, “we’re here to cel-bate Miss Buecks. It’s her treat so you have to pay.”

“Yeah Azzi, it’s my treat so you have to pay,” Paige mimics, high-fiving a beaming Stephie. 

Azzi looks between the two of them, an offended expression on her face, “my own daughter,” she gasps, “betraying me. I see how it is.”

“You’re the one who says we have to be fair,” Stephie says, nudging her mother slightly so she can clutch her hand and then turns to look up at Paige, “was Mama really pretty when she was littler?”

“Younger” Azzi corrects again, before focusing on Paige, “and you don’t have to answer that. She’s seen photos of me from before.”

“But I wanna know from Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines. 

“Stephie,” Azzi warns, an edge to her voice. 

“She was the most beautiful girl in the world,” Paige says softly and two sets of dark brown eyes immediately flash up to her. The California sunshine makes Azzi glow but really that’s nothing new; Azzi has always been the brightest star, at least in Paige’s galaxy, and she can’t help but let the next words slip through her lips, “she still is.”

***

Azzi thinks Paige has never really known the impact of her own words. Whether it was the missiles she fired when angry or the shower of flower petals when she was feeling complimentary. And it seems like time has done nothing to change that because Paige continues to walk towards the ice cream parlor with absolutely no recognition of how Azzi’s heart has just burst into flames. 

She still is. 

It shouldn’t affect her the way it does, shouldn’t elicit any reaction more than just a cocky smirk but instead those three little words seem to imprint themselves on her cochlear, ringing around her like static as she tries to keep a façade of nonchalance. 

The ice cream parlor is bursting with people and it doesn’t take long before both Azzi and Paige are being asked for pictures. Protective instinct kicking in, Azzi reaches to grab for Stephie to keep her from getting lost in the crowd, only to find her already securely tucked into Paige’s side. Azzi watches as Paige interacts with the fans -she’s always been a natural at that- and somehow manages to keep Stephie entertained at the same time, conspiratorially whispering things to her in between interactions and making her giggle. It hurts and heals something inside her at the same time. The thing is, since Stephie was born, Azzi has done this whole thing alone and she’s never regretted it, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of her that hasn’t always wished for a partner, someone else who would protect her little girl with her. Like Paige is right now. But this is a mirage, a fever dream that isn’t Azzi’s to dream. 

So she looks away and hides her tears behind a dazzling smile for a photo with a fan. She’s gotten incredibly good at that. 

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks excitedly when they finally manage to reach the counter.

“Oh um-” Paige scratches at her neck, “I like cookies and cream.”

Azzi guffaws at the lie, “your favorite flavor is cookies and cream?”

“Yes Azzi,” Paige glares, “I love cookies and cream.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow before dropping her voice down to a whisper, “why are you lying?”

Paige sighs, “I don’t want Stephie to think I’m weird.”

“Oh Paige,” Azzi can’t help but smile before turning to Stephie, “Steph what flavor are you getting?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” Stephie says excitedly, eyes fixated on the green ice cream and Paige’s mouth falls open a little bit as Azzi smirks at her. 

She turns to the cashier, “we’ll have open mint chocolate chip, one strawberry and one-”

“One more mint chocolate chip please,” Paige cuts in and both Azzi and Stephie look at her. 

“I thought you wanted cookies and cream Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks with a confused expression and Azzi barely manages to bite back her laugh. 

“I uh-,” Paige begins sheepishly, “I didn’t know they had mint chocolate chip. That’s my most favorite.”

Stephie is contemplatively quiet for a minute before a grin breaks out on her face, “Mama did you know Miss Buecks and I have the same favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“I had absolutely no idea,” Azzi says, winking at Paige as she pays for their ice cream. 

They opt to sit outside on one of the picnic benches overlooking the nearby park. Azzi is distinctly aware of how they might look to anyone walking by right now, like a family. Normally, ice cream Sundays are spent with Stephie rambling and Azzi listening but this time Stephie has someone who’s just as much of a chatterbox as she is. Paige hangs on to every word that comes out of the little girl’s mouth, answering questions and giving replies as if this is the most important conversation of her life. 

“Mama and I go to Stanford games all the time,” Stephie’s saying as Azzi tries to get out of her own head and zone into the conversation instead, “I’m gonna be a- what’s it called again Mama?”

“A Cardinal,” Azzi supplies helpfully. 

“I’m gonna be a Card-nal,” Stephie says and Paige gasps, turning to Azzi. 

“Oh my god you’ve raised a traitor,” she moans, shaking her head. 

Stephie scrunches her face, looking rather offended by that moniker, “I’m not a tray-tor.”

“Steph sweetheart look at me,” Paige says, her voice the epitome of seriousness as she holds the younger girl by her shoulders, “what are we?”

“Humans?” Stephie asks innocently and Azzi laughs.

“No Stephie we,” Paige uses her finger to point at her and Azzi, “we are Huskies. UConn Huskies. And what do we bleed?”

“Oh I know this one,” Stephie says excitedly, “we bleed blue.”

“So do you wanna be a boring old tree or do you wanna be a big, strong Husky who bleeds blue?”

“I wanna be a Husky,” Stephie cheers and Paige cheers along with her. Azzi rolls her eyes but it doesn't quite match the smile on her face. And then Stephie’s racing off to the swings, leaving Paige and Azzi alone for the first time in a long time. 

“Did you just manipulate my child into wanting to go to UConn?” she nudges Paige. 

“Of course not. I just made her understand what’s best for her and that’s UConn,” Paige nudges her back, “just like it was for you.”

“Yeah, it was,” Azzi says softly and they both know she means a lot more than just UConn.

“You um- you have a little bit of ice cream,” Paige points nervously to the edge of Azzi’s lip, hands reaching and then hesitating. And Azzi knows that she should at least attempt to wipe it off herself but she stays deathly still as Paige’s thumb finally makes its way to her face. It’s a featherlight touch that the blonde traces across her lips, their eyes transfixed on each other, neither of them breathing. And they’ve had far more intimate moments than this one but something about this, right here, feels apocalyptic. 

“I meant what I said before,” Paige whispers, “you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.”

She gulps before starting to move away and Azzi feels a panic course through her blood as she hurriedly grabs the blonde’s hand. And she’s not supposed to do this; she should tell Paige not to say things like that but instead she’s  pulling the blonde closer, hand firmly clasped around her wrist. 

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, like she wants to stop and start something at the same time. They’ve never really known self-control when it comes to each other. 

“I meant what I said to Stephie too,” Azzi whispers, “you’ve always been the prettiest.”

***

September 2029 

Wings 82 Valkyries 77

Paige almost falls to her knees as the buzzer sounds around the arena. The crowd is on their feet cheering as the Dallas Wings beat the Golden State Valkyries in a hard-fought semi-finals game 5 to advance to the WNBA finals. It takes a brief second and suddenly she has teammates circling all around her as they bask in their well-earned glory. 

“One more series to go. Wings in three,” Satou cheers and the whole team echoes after her. They’re not known to be the closest of teams but at this moment, they almost feel like family. 

Paige is exhausted as she’s ushered to do a sideline interview and she tries really hard to keep the irritation off her face when she realizes it’s Holly Rowe. The questions are generic and some are downright annoying, but Paige’s media training has always been stellar, and despite the fatigue rolling off her body, her answers are heartfelt and charismatic. The interview can’t be longer than three minutes but it feels like a lifetime before she’s finally walking away. Focused on the ground beneath her and trying not to cave into the exhaustion on her way to the media room, Paige doesn’t notice when she goes barrelling into a firm body. 

“Shit I’m so-” the words are stolen from her mouth as Tim Fudd turns around but it’s not him that attracts Paige’s attention. It’s the little girl cradled in his arms, a little girl who looks exactly like the fact that still haunts all of Paige’s memories. Tiny brown eyes stare up at her and Paige is mesmerized by this tiny creature who seems like she could captivate the whole world if she wanted to. 

“Congratulations Paige,” Tim says slowly and Paige tears her eyes away from the baby to look at the man who had once been the person who made it a mission to make her laugh whenever she was on the verge of crying, “I’m really proud of you kid.”

Paige’s eyes sting and she doesn’t know if she wants to run away or beg Tim to give her one of his patented bear hugs, “thank you. It really does mean a lot. She-,” her eyes flicker back down to the little tiny bean, “she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah she is,” pride shines in Tim’s voice, “you wanna hold her?”

“Oh no it’s ok-” Paige begins but before she can finish, there’s a baby being placed in her arms and everything around her seems to come to a standstill. 

“Her name’s Stephanie,” Tim says softly and Paige laughs because of course, of course Azzi would name her daughter Stephanie. 

“Hi Stephanie,” Paige coos, reaching out a finger to tickle the little girl, gasping when Stephanie's small chubby hands grasp it. And then the baby giggles, smiling at Paige as if she’s given her a gift and Paige swears she’s never loved a sound more in her life. 

“Can you hold her for a second while I go find Katie?” Tim asks and Paige shakes her head in panic but he’s already off before she can stop him. And then it’s just her and Stephanie, standing outside the media room. There’s people cluttering in and out of the rooms around her, the whole lobby is bustling with sounds but all Paige can focus on is the girl in her arms. 

“You’re so cute,” Paige whispers in a baby voice and Stephanie giggles, “yes you are, yes you are. I wanna steal you so bad.”

“I don’t think you can win a WNBA championship from jail,” a familiar voice says from behind her and Paige feels her stomach tying itself in knots as she turns to look at Azzi, “maybe try and kidnap my child after the finals?”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips but a storm brewing in her eyes and Paige knows that if she rests a heart against the darker-skinned girl, she’ll find it beating to the same hyper rhythm as Paige’s. 

“Congratulations Paige,” Azzi says softly as she takes another step towards her, “you guys deserved it.”

“Y’all made it hard as hell-I mean shit-no fuck,” Paige swears and the child in her arms giggles as a litany of curses fall from her mouth. 

Azzi bites her lip, raising her eyebrows in mock exasperation, “in front of my kid? Seriously Bueckers?”

Paige winces, ready to apologize until Stephanie begins to babble “B-buecks,” she giggles, clapping her hands, unaware of how the two adults in her vicinity both freeze, “Buecks. Buecks. Buecks.”

“Yeah sweetheart,” tears prickle against Paige’s waterline, “that’s me,” she looks up at Azzi whose own eyes are watery, “she said my name.”

“Yeah,” Azzi’s voice wobbles, “yeah she did. She’s- she’s a quick learner.”

“Just like her Mama,” Paige whispers, staring at Azzi and she wants to freeze them in this moment, like a still-motion picture she can hang up on her walls and keep with her forever. 

“Mama,” Stephanie burbles, eyes darting between the two women, “Mama. Buecks. Buecks. Mama.”

“You’re so smart Stephanie,” Paige whispers to the little girl, tickling her stomach. She looks up at Azzi with a smile only to find the brunette frowning at Paige’s hand. Confused Paige follows the line of sight until her own eyes catch onto the diamond that’s shining on her ring finger and she can feel her heart drop, “Az-”

“The media’s waiting for you Paige,” Azzi says, the lightness of a few seconds ago replaced with a hard edge. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispers again and she doesn’t know why her tone sounds pleading, doesn’t even know what she’d pleading for but she can feel something slip away from her again. 

“You probably want to go celebrate with your wife,” Azzi spits out the last word like it tastes bitter and sour at the same time, and it lands somewhere in between them, creating a wall that puts them on different sides. And Paige should let it go; she should pretend it’s just a normal sentence uttered without any malice, should pretend that she can no longer read the cadences of Azzi’s voice but instead of putting up a shield, she shoots an arrow. 

“You don’t get to say it like that,” Paige hisses. 

“I didn’t say it like any-”

“Yes you did and you don’t get to do that,” Paige presses, “not when you didn’t want to marry me.”

Azzi flinches. The words, soaked in mistakes of the past, hang like a dagger in between them, ready to sever the thin thread of cordiality that they have tried desperately to maintain. 

“You’re right,” Azzi says finally, her voice ice cold as she reaches for Stephanie, “I didn’t want to marry you,” the dagger twists, “so how about you give me my child back and go find the woman who did.”

[mangocustard16]

SEVENTEEN'S REACTION TO THEIR S/O BEING DOCTOR/SURGEON

genre: fluff warnings: fake diseases, mentions of ER, hospitals, accidents and blood lmk if i missed someting wc: 512 a/n: i really wanted to use the 'spin wheel thingy' so i chose 6 members using this also i have zero medical knowledge so don't come at me with for the medical terms

mingyu

excited to use all the cheesy pickup lines he learned from the internet

“Doctor! I think there’s something wrong with my heart. It keeps fluttering every time I see you.”

super proud, brags about it everywhere

got a cold and called Hoshi to tell him that he couldn't come for practice cuz he got rhinorrhea

acts like he gains medical knowledge just by being in your presence

seungkwan

loves absolutely loveeesss to introduce you as Dr. Y/N

would cringe whenever he hears you talk about surgery or every time you describe a particular night in the ER

doesn't understand patient privacy, don't get him wrong he respects them

but whenever you tell him about a specific patient, he has to know their name to relate more to the story

brought back a hurt dog so that you could help him heal

"Baby I’m not a veterinarian! Take out the car we need to go to a vet"

joshua

you had been out of med school for about three weeks and had applied for different hospitals and hospices but no one had gotten back to you

joshua was very supportive, driving you to all the interviews and buying you meals

As you stared at the floor soaking in the rejection, you felt a little sad and upset when the doorbell rang and the mailman dropped off a mail

you asked joshua to read the mail for you, not having the energy to get off the couch just to read another "We regret to inform you." letter

"Dear Dr. Y/l/n, we would like to first thank you for your application to work at our hospital, we hope you can come by to discuss your working hours by-"

"I'M IN!" You screamed throwing yourself into joshua's arms

jeonghan

he knew that being an EMT was a very emotionally taxing job and that you've to desensitize yourself towards accidents to help the patients

but boy is beyond shocked when he sees you in action

someone had accidentally slipped down the stairs and hit their head

you jumped right into action and called an ambulance while a pool of blood surrounded their head while everyone around you froze 

scoups

He would be so happy you were a doctor and that you were so smart 

he would love to see you talk about work and patients and speak about some things he didn’t even get

would be your number one supporter

loves to wear your coat and act like a doctor

"Sneezes, headache, and pelvis pain.... yeah you just have noseadvisitis, there is no cure it just comes with old age byee"

expect lots and lots of fake medical terms cuz he loves to pretend like he knows medicine

dino

everything's fine as long as you are not descriptive about wounds 

urges you to describe your day at the hospital

but grimaces at the mention of blood

finds it kind of weird that you don't smell like the hospital

homeboy always thought that the doctors smelled like the hospital, but is internally grateful that you don't smell like the hospital

is very nosy whenever he sees you studying

"I thought you already passed med school? What are you studying for now"

@kflixnet @k-films@k-labels

taglist⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅: @bangchansbae @haecien @aaniag @aaasia111 @weird-bookworm @gigification @bewoyewo if you want to be added just send me an ask ♡⸝⸝

reblog if you liked !!

[goldsbitch]

That one flight home

part 6 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Kiss me hard before you go.

warning: oral sex, cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

It's inevitably a strange experience to wake up next to someone you'd never slept next to before. Y/N kept waking up as her heart was testing the limits of the amount of heartbeats a human body can entail before it becomes a condition. She watched Lando, as he snored ever so quietly, saving every moment in her memory. Unlike her, Lando was used to sleepless nights. And unlike her, the strangest part of their first night together for him was the fact he fell asleep in the middle of his sentence. So simple, so easy. His mind and soul safe and sound. Perhaps he made the leap of the first night slumber on the first flight, when she rested her head on his shoulder for almost six hours.

When he woke up, she was standing by the window, watching whatever seemed to be happening on the street. He stayed silent, admiring the figure and the way light higlighted her curves. Only once she turned around, he spoke to her.

"Hey you...early morning person, I see," he grunted, wanting nothing more that to return to any of their previous activities, starting with cuddling.

"Yeah, sadly so. Would love to sleep til 12 sometimes," she said and glanced over to him morning boner. Lando noticed her look and shook his head.

"What can I say, impossible to control that."

"I like it, it's cute!"

"Did you just call my boner cute? Ouch," he pretended to get hurt.

She returned back to the bed. "It's cute that you have one."

"Hard to imagine not having one." They locked their lips having absolutely no care in the world for morning breath.

//

"Breakfast?" she asked, hungry as ever. It was a hard decision as she absolutely loved being locked in his embrace.

Lando had something different in mind, but god he was starving.

They got dressed and lazily strolled downstairs to a lovely breakfast patio. Y/N was over the moon internally about how touchy Lando became with her. His and on her lower back was something she could get used to very quickly. Y/N noticed few looks coming their way as they sat down and could not quite pin down why. First thing on her mind was that they looked a cute couple. She disregarded that as she remembered that she was sitting here with Lando Norris.

"Did you notice that people were looking at us?" she remarked over her morning coffee.

"Yeah...But like in a different way than they usually stare at me. Fuck it honestly, we have few hours before return to the madness so let's just chill," he smiled without a care in the world. Y/N relaxed again. They chatted away for few minutes before an older Italian lady, one of the fellow guests, approached them. Lando was almost ready for a photograph and a plea for confidentiality - that was until she opened her mouth and started screaming at them in Italian. He had no idea what any of those words meant, so he searched for a clue on Y/N's face. The poor girl sat there with a red face, making it really hard for Lando not to laugh at this situation, so he sipped his tea to hide his mouth. Once this lady left, silence fell over. Quite few people were giving them looks.

"Was she commenting on my hair?" asked Lando to ease the tension. "I am having an exceptionally good hair day."

Y/N took a deep breath. "From what I've gathered, we are both absolute filthy pigs, who have no manners and use this nice hotel as a brothel."

"Ah, nice. Cool!" Lando respectfully waved at the angry lady.

"Do you think we were like loud yesterday?" It was wrong how proud it had been making him.

"We're in Italy for god sake, isn't it all suppose to be little louder here?"

Y/N shot him a look. He sent her a wink.

Time was a cruel lady. The pair was starting to reach the final minutes of their encounter. The quickly wrapped up their breakfast, sharing amused looks in silence. Lando felt a strange discomfort when he saw her checking out the time.

//

They were back kissing in their hotel room in minutes. It was impossible to do anything else. They were making out on the bed when the housekeeper came in. Lando stopped them in the door: "Late check out, please! Late check out. Yeah, thanks." He then turned back to Y/N. "I'm not done with you, honey." With a cheeky look on his eyes, he began to remove Y/N's shorts and underwear.

"Pretty," he commented once she was naked. She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue. Lando went onto putting slow kisses from her feet all the way to her thighs, testing which spots worked the best. Once he was almost the top of her thighs, he looked up to her and gently bit. When he saw that she was ok with it, he used more force. Y/N let out a shy scream of pain, the kind of pain that is dancing on the edge of pleasure and aching.

She moaned his name softly, as his tongue continued where it had started and abruptly ended the night before. She touched his hair and held his head in the place. Lando enjoyed her being demanding. He varied his moves and meticulously burned her reactions into his memory as if he was suppose to be completing his exams on this. Once he fund the specific moves she responded to the most, he repeated those until she could not continue no more. He watched as she reached the high for two times. There were few things making him feel genuinely proud of himself like this has. This what people meant when they described mindblowing, Y/N realized. "Come here to me," she demanded once she was done. Lando went to cuddle with her, face to face, watching her breath slowing down again. The laid like this for few minutes, neither of them wanting to break the silence. Until one of them had to.

"We'll need to get going so you don't miss your flight," Lando whispered. Y/N wanted nothing else then to miss her flight and stay stuck in this room with him.

"Yeah, I know. Just one more minute."

//

The drive to the airport was unusually quiet. Lando had his flight later than Y/N did, but insisted on going with her earlier to accompany her. Airports were becoming her least favorite thing, as another goodbye was knocking on the door. They held hands casually all the way to the check in. Another last kiss. The kind to leave sting.

"Give me something of yours. So that I have something to remind me of you," he asked softly. Taken back a bit, Y/N took her necklace off and handed it to him and exchanged it for Lando's hoodie.

Y/N was the last passenger to board the plane taking her back home. Lando had the same coffee at the same place as he did yesteday, only this time it had a weirdly bitter aftertaste. He played with her necklace, she wore his hoodie trying to soak his perfume in while it was still fresh.

//

First hangover is always the worst. Pains in weird places one did not know existed, blood flowing in a strange pace. Everything slightly out of place and sun just a little too bright on the tired eyes. Y/N got drunk a little too quickly on her racer crush and the come down was more like a vertical crash down.

The evening she arrived back home was a joyous one. She got out the plane and almost danced all the way to the train heading to the centre. Met up with her friends and would just not shut up about her time with Lando. Unstoppable force that would talk the most skilled politician into listening her talk about the way his hair curled and his touch burned. Like every other drug addict, once the reality hit and the high lost its intense hue, she crashed.

What was supposed to happen now? Monday morning rolled in and new chapter began. The darkest thoughts she kept at bay for long enough got landed the main role. It was just a hook up to him. Nothing more. He was way beyond her league. She gave him what he wanted and he will not be able to give her what she wants. He is already is somebody else's arms by now. All the other guys will be just a different shade of gray compared to the bright orange that followed his charming aura.

"Y/N? Yes, she is a hard to get bitch, she will not fall easily for just about anyone. Not the relationship kind, that's for sure", is how she'd probably get described as by her friends. Her best kept secret was that she was an absolute hopeless romantic. Fell a little too hard for every crush she had and never found a way how to attract those she wished to spend her days and nights with. Her evening with Lando was the closest she got to her deepest dreams coming true. Every other situationship she has had in the past was so dull compared the how loudly this one screamed. So of course, when no messages came in from him, her natural instinct to draw herself back kicked in. A lovely coping mechanism that has destroyed lots of chances in the past. Even though she was well aware of that, it was the road she knew how to walk and somehow could not help herself to avoid it.

A lifeless copy of the bubbly girl from this weekend roamed the halls of Bologna university, digging her self into a deeper hole than needed. All those sad songs suddenly made sense.

//

Life came back screaming loudly at Lando. As soon as he landed back it was one thing after another to make up for the time. Races comes first, always. Even if it does not on that day naturally, there will always be several people to force it upon him. In those randomly scattered moment where his mind could run freely, he immediately went back to the salt cured late night air in Italy and the kisses with the one who'd been occupying his mind for longer than he'd be willing to admit. Life demanded a lot from him, so daydreaming had to be put on hold.

One thought haunted Lando no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Y/N was just so pure in his eyes. Unaffected by clouds of fame, free in whatever she wanted to do whenever she desired to. Not having to face constant criticism and prying looks. He still hadn't processed fully the effect this has had on his relationships in the past. How it gradually changed the tone of the romance, until it destroyed it completely. He fell for her hard. Fascinated by the lightness that surrounded her. She radiated, lifting him up to her heights when he was with her and that was something you just could not buy.

She was grounded. Belonged somewhere, was a local and a regular. Had a life centred in one place (mostly, excluded family), group of university friends and was figuring this life out on her own, without anyone inserting their own ambitions into her. There were no people relying on how she did and he almost envied the freedom this provided her. A feeling he was sure she could not properly understand, as he did not as well before responsibility had been thrusted on him.

He loved his formula 1 life. But a part of him felt strangely inadequate around those who have had these student life experiences. She could do anything.

He needed time to think about his next move, if there was any to ever happen. Gut feeling was to fly her out here to spend time with him, introduce her to everyone that walked by and make sure she falls for him at least half as strongly as he fell for her. On the other hand, he also felt like clumsy giant trying to pick up an origami dove - once he would, he would inevitably crush her and damage the wings, the kind of she did not know she had. The kind of wings one starts to see only once they are impaired. Maybe keeping their affair as it was now was the only way how to keep the light in this memory.

But at night, when the noises of his busy life went quiet and the the intrusive thought we like "yeah baby, let's go", he buried himself deep in his favorite sad songs and dreamed of touching her again, of seeing her smile and of her proudly introducing him to her friends. Sleep was something Lando struggled with even on a normal day, but on days like these it was like as if it was a secret language he was never taught to speak.

//

Jealous. That’s what Y/N was. In the ugliest sense of the sinful word. Gone was any internal morale compass guiding her to not go against other girls. Feminism said goodbye when she scrolled down endless adoring comments on his fan page.

She did not give two shits about his fame or god forbid money. When she met him, she had no idea what he meant to so many people. A cheeky well dressed funny boy with a dream, that’s what she saw. Seeing the pure adoration thousands of people had for him was overwhealming. So in the random moments between other people talking, she imagined meeting him in another life, one where he was just one of the other students and she finally got to relive the uni romance she had wished for - cute study dates, making out at parties and sitting at local balconies, over looking the historical town. It was becoming a little too consuming. Like a headache that won’t go away.

She wondered why - why was there a huge ever-present hole in her stomach making her nauseous.

part 7

__________________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak @llando4norris @ophcelia 

[phantoms-world-and-more]

I've seen many posts where Jason dates Jazz and realizes there's something wrong with Danny, but what if it's the other way around?

Danny has been ghosting for a while longer, so he knows better how to hide the effects, Jazz who only recently realized he's liminal doesn't do so well.

Then Jason arrives, he met this cute and nice guy who is totally sarcastic but also always willing to help him with a problem, then he meets his sister, who has something strange about her, sometimes her smiles are too big or her shadow moves unnaturally, makes bad love decisions and wants to be a psychologist, cue Jason thinking that Jazz is the second coming of Harley Quinn but more Eldritch

This is amazing!!!

This is kind of an old one because i was away for a while, but thanks for the ask

.

.

.

Jason had made a new friend (boyfriend if he's lucky)

They met when red hood was on patrol and was going to stop a SA in progress when this lanky bruce adoptee to be stepped in and handed the scumbag his ass on a silver platter

After the kid took care of the girl, called the police and sent them on their way he stayed, turned to where he was perched, smiled and said

"What? Couldn't just do nothing."

Turned and left, leaving jason dumbfounded that this kid could see him, beating up an unexperienced scumbag was one thing finding a highly trained vigilante was something else, looks like this kid is interesting.

.

.

.

Turns out the kids name is danny and he is awesome!

He's 19, just moved to gothem from some no where town and was studying aerospace engineering, linguistics and chemistry in gothem university.

His mother was a blackbelt and tought him how to put the fear of God in people 6 ways to sunday, he also has a sister whos an arkam asylum phyciatritrist intern

Danny is cool, knowes how to take a joke and can dish it right back out, was goofy and playful compared to the usual seriousness of of the bats, AND HE WAS SASSY

The colourful way he broke down the batfams characters had him cry laughing

When he met Danny in red hood persona he was mostly the same, though jason nearly had a heart attack when danny called him jason in red hood gear, but dannys cool and easy to talk to, they spent the rest of patrol together

Batman showed up wondering why red hood wasn't responding and red hood thought he had to defend danny from the interrogation that was to come...NOPE

The first words out of danny's mouth was

"I've never met a furrie in person, is it difficult to breath wearing the suit"

By the end of the 'conversation' Red hood couldn't move he was laughing so hard oh he couldn't wait to meet his fanily

.

.

.

Nevermind somethings wrong with jazz

When he met her nothing was wrong per'se but...

she seems nice but her smiles are too wide, too pointy, she moves too stiff and theres something just...off

She made the pit squirm in...not fear or discomfort, more like, she made the pit more agitated, annoyed, angry...thats...never happened before

Then he found out she was having love problems...the last guy she dated ended up in a cutl and was trying to get her to join, and the way she talk about phycology was too...disconnected

Somethings wrong with her

About 2 hours later jason came speeding into the batcave screaming about the next generation of Harley Quin

[penny-anna]

trying to leave my aunt & uncle's house this morning

wake up & realise that i forgot to tell anyone that i'm technically booked onto the 11am train. it is already almost 10. this isn't a huge problem as i have an open return so can get any train w/e

'i forgot to tell you i booked the 11am' 'oh that's not happening' 'yeah ik'

go to check on the app when the next train is. see that the 11am is cancelled due to weather conditions

oh no.jpg

tell my aunt

'oh no' yeah.

sit on her sofa for the next half an hour or so and watch the 11:30, 12 and 12:30 trains all get cancelled

my cousin (11): you could just stay 2 more hours

yeah the trains. probably aren't gonna be running in 2 hours sorry.

maybe they will drive me home?? (it's like 1 hour)

'are the buses running' *checks* yeah :(

go to bus stop. it's raining.

see a bus go by in the other direction. 'are you sure you checked the right bus timetable' *double checks* yeah we're good

stand around for 5-6 minutes anxiously trying to figure out if the buses are actually running or have been cancelled

the bus website is saying the next bus isn't coming through till 2pm but is saying that there will be a bus at the other stop in the village in 5 minutes so mixed signals!!

bus arrives

realise i'm so used to edinburgh buses (flat fare) that i forget i have to like talk to the bus driver and tell him where i'm going

take ages to figure out how to pay

bus driver waits for me to sit down before driving off. this makes sense given that i have bags and am the only person boarding but im used to the city so im just screaming internally at holding everyone up

bus is so so busy

windows are very foggy so hard to tell what's going on but fortunately i'm going all the way

at one point we start reversing and i'm like ???? before remembering ohh lol yeah this is the part of the Edinburgh-Galashiels bus route where the bus goes backwards for a bit i remember now

anyway i got home eventually

[goodolddumbbanana]

TO BE MIRROR AU [6]

Summary: Nexus attempted to kidnap Sun to get him to find the shards by threatening Dazzle and Jack. Moon is nowhere, idk, maybe sleep.

It was just a normal day…

Only the yellow animatronic stays in daycare to clean. Moon was busy in his laboratory with Solar, butting his head off with everything from finding the whereabouts of Ruin and the Dark Sun's hideout, to studying the remnants of the Wither Storm.

They have been working hard for more than 12 hours. The overwhelming amount of work that his brothers endure makes Sun worried that Moon will fall back into his old habits, working until his battery is dried out. And he can say the same thing with Solar.

Maybe after cleaning this place up, Sun should go back to the lab to check. He can get something for his brother to eat? And water for Solar? At least, for now, this is what makes him feel like he can help in some way.

A loud sign coming out his mouth. The barrel was so shiny in Sun's hand that he could see himself on it.

He still couldn't understand how he could sense the shards of the Wither Storm, but he didn't look into the gift horse's mouth. Although... that was just a little concern in Sun's heart, why did he feel so attracted to those crystals? Why did he feel... so relieved when he touched them?

Unlike Moon, who not only had a headache, but slept so soundly that scared him near death the next day?

The sound of someone coming out of the ball pit rang out, startling Sun's train of thoughts.

The computer hasn't been fixed yet. There's so much work that needs to be done and Moon's AI creation is relatively complicated. So they have to do everything by hand for now, which is sometimes really inconvenient for Sun.

For example, he couldn't guess exactly who had entered this dimension.

A dark blue shadow appeared in the distance. A nightcap bobbed, revealing the tall, thin body of a lunar Daycare attendant. Star and moon shaped characters are embroidered on the shirt.

The shadow cast by the light caused Sun's optics to involuntarily shrink. He came closer, still holding the barrel towel in his hand.

“M–Moon?! I thought you would work until late?—”

The words coming out of Sun's mouth suddenly stopped. Sun's non-existent heart seemed to skip a beat when the stranger raised his face, revealing a bygone face that was only seen in Sun's old nightmares.

His eyes were red as blood, like two coals dipped in the burning fire. The smile was as curved as a crescent moon, white as bone, as marrow, as sickly white as the way a wild animal grins when hunting its prey. The long, slender body, bent in a way that physics could not explain, stretched out of the ball pit.

“H–Hello? Who are you?" Sun asked timidly, he silently scolded himself, why didn't he call Moon right now. It's not that he can't defend himself, because of magic, Moon still encourages him to practice day and night. But Sun didn't want things to go that far at all.

If possible, he just wanted them to leave or they could talk in peace.

That strange guest just twisted his body, his posture was too comfortable for someone who did not live here. Sun's internal chip doesn't understand why it keeps screaming, trying to emit a telegram of connection, feeling like his subconscious is whispering something about there is something very familiar towards the stranger.

Could this be KC or another version of KC?

Sun never held out hope that KC was still alive. Their KC‌ was dead, broken into pieces in Bloodmoon's hands. But something about the stranger made Sun unconsciously take a few steps forward.

They laughed, a hoarse, dry, ugly laugh like the sound of a knife carving into flesh.

“ No… Take another guess.”

Sun didn't know it was possible to shatter someone's reality with just one sentence.

In the colorful colors of daycare, Moon-Nexus stood there calmly, with a smile that didn't reach the corners of his eyes.

New clothes, new body, will any of that still can Sun call them his brother? When they at that time had hurt their own sister without any remorse, and now in those lifeless eyes, only the bloody brutality and indifference of the scientist towards his specimen were visible?

Nexus looks happy. Dangerously happy. They approached Sun, letting out a greeting as if nothing had happened, as if Nexus hadn't torn his own family in half.

“Hey, Sun… Long time no see.”

The two images melt into each other. One is the concerned eyes of a version of Moon he has learned to love and trust, the other is of a stranger that Sun doesn't recognize anymore.

Sun should run. He should scream and let any of Moon's defenses activate, but he couldn't. His throat was stiff, his mouth dry. He couldn't stop shaking, his freezing reflex made his joints immobile.

“What's wrong, Sun, aren't you happy to see your brother again?”

Nexus tilted its head, its neck as long as an owl's, the deformity that Nexus had intentionally inflicted on itself was like a punch to Sun's stomach.

‘ What happened to you, Nexus?’

“I guess this can happen.” M-Nexus shrugged, and they moved closer leisurely, ignoring Sun's momentary flinch.

"You already have your Old Moon back, how can you miss this Moon, am I right, Sun?"

He wants to say...

‘ We have missed you. We still missed you. Earth couldn't look at Moon's face without crying silently afterward. Even though Lunar didn't say anything, I still knew that the boy hid your photo in the room. Solar numb all his emotions because of you, he didn’t believe our stories for weeks before really seeing you, face to face. I missed you, I have missed you so much.

But you don't know that, do you?

Only cares about what you want, and always jumps to these places where I can't even keep up with.

And now you throw it all away to pursue a self-destructive obsession that you think we want, when what we need is for you to be happy with us.'

He wanted to say many things, but his mouth could only make pitiful stuttering sounds. His hand wanted to reach out, a faint glimmer of hope that Nexus felt remorseful and wanted to return to his family.

But the cruel mind only laughed at Sun's weak heart, mocking him about how dangerous the Nexus looked.

'Even an idiot like you can understand why he came here, right, Sun ~~' The sound of Sun's thoughts was too close to Eclipse's disdainful and even tone, making Sun unconsciously frown.

“How is the new house btw? I heard that beast say you have moved. Do you live well there? Not that I care—”

Sun wanted to refute. He wanted to grab Nexus tightly and ask if they didn't care, then why did they deliberately bring up the old story? He wanted to cry and hug Nexus tightly, to beg Nexus to return to Sun, Earth and Lunar. He also wanted to punch his other brother, to let them know how stupid the thing they did was, how much it hurt the people who loved them.

But nothing can come out except the bitterness.

“Oh come on, no need to look so tense like that.”

Close, too close, Nexus was approaching Sun without him realizing it. The shadow of Nexus fell on Sun, their voice was gentle, so gentle and considerate, like that was still the person he called his brother.

The sound of bells rang in Sun's ears. A red shadow flashed across Sun's eyes, and the ribbon on Nexus's wrist fell onto his shirt.

“I said I wouldn't hurt you, didn't I?”

The distance between them was only an inch apart, and the tip of Nexus' nightcap accidentally touched Sun's rays. Nexus's hand was clasped in his, the grip soft but firm, just like the way they used to do whenever Sun had a panic attack.

It really made Sun soften, and let his guard down for a split second.

Enough for a sick smile to flash across Nexus's lips. A wave of pain erupted in Sun's arm, Nexus's hands gripped Sun's hand tightly, their sharp nails digging into his metal shell.

“Well��� I guess I lied. I actually very much enjoyed it.”

The pain caused Sun to pull away and stagger backwards. He panted, the rays of light converging with Sun's breathing. Nexus' sadistic chuckle was almost unreal, as if this were just a normal gaming session between the two of them, rather than looking like Nexus was ready to hurt Sun.

Sun shouldn't be surprised, because after all, Nexus has always hated him. This person's care is purely an order, a purpose that Moon has placed like a chain on this newly reset Moon's neck.

Sun knows Nexus always hates him for being alive, for the one who died is Solar.

“W–Why are you here, M–Nexus?”

Try to squeeze out each word. Ignoring the pain in his wrist, Sun wished he wasn't trembling, so pathetic for someone who hadn't even done anything to him.

“You know why.” Nexus retracted his hand, his red eyes looked straight at Sun, a look so determined that it scared Sun.

"No I don't." Sun gritted his teeth, both of his fists clenched. There was an anger that came out of nowhere in his chest like a flood, making his vision red and Sun didn't know what he wanted to do next.

“A little bird told me about your ability. Don’t be sad. I was just going to look into your source code, but unfortunately I found nothing.”

“So…”

“…”

Breath escaped from Sun's mouth. His joints convulsed, and Sun's entire operating system continuously crashed into each other with errors and loops.

“I want you to come with me, Sun.”

“ From now on we will do everything together Sun… I will not leave you…”

Two voices collided. One from the present and one from the past. The protective concern that once existed in that voice now turned into mockery. Nexus looked at him like a curious child looking at a sick cat that was about to die. They had no intention of doing anything, just watching with interest to see where this was going.

*** Flashback

Sun never understood Moon's laboratory preferences. Too white, too clean, everywhere is sterile white. There is a coldness and crampedness that clings to this place, even if there are more green trees. can cover up its emptiness.

Moon stood in front of the board, his shadow was too high, beyond Sun's sight. Moon's hand awkwardly touched the edge of the table, her face serious. There was only the clicking sound of the radiator running, and the gurgling sound of running water, as if time had stopped a long time ago and was working again, as heavy as a nail stuck in the wall.

Reflections of surrounding objects flashed on the Sun's gilded shell. A cup of steaming hot tea was placed in front of him.

“Hey Sun… I need you to think about this…” Moon's voice is gentle and careful, as if he was speaking to a child. “If what Dark Sun said is true, then Nexus is also searching for the fragments…”

“ That means… he might come to you…”

“I'm not telling you to decide now… but for your own good and I don't want you to get hurt…”

“ Can you tell me you are willing to attack Nexus if he comes to hurt you?”)

***

There was heavy pressure and tension between the two. It felt like there was invisible sweat dripping down the back of Sun's shirt.

Nexus is taller than him, stronger than him, both physically and intellectually. And he stinks of the smell of negative star power. If he wanted, he could take advantage of Sun being caught off guard and take Sun away at any time. Or just straight up torture him right away. But here, right now, Nexus just offers Sun an offer.

To go with him voluntarily.

Why?" Sun lowered his voice. His hands were hidden behind his back, ready for any movement by Nexus to trigger him to activate his magic. Every sensor in his body was screaming at him to attack, or run away, but for some stubborn reason, he continued to wait for Nexus's answer.

Listening to Moon was an inherent rigid habit, making him no matter how angry or disappointed he was, the first person to lay down his cards was still Nexus.

“Sun, you know what's funny? It had taken me months of manual labor to find the fragments of the Wither Storm, while the answer was right before my eyes."

"It's you. Sun."

"Yes, I was surprised too. Who would have thought that little Sunny would have this ability? How many pieces have you and that bastard found? Where did you hide it?"

“And why should I tell you?”

Red eyes glared at Sun maliciously, so evil that it would make his former self burst into tears.

“Because I will not go easy on you anymore if you keep stubborn like that.”

(Honk honk duck sound)

A flash of light erupted, right next to Nexus's feet smoking remains of a fireball. For the first time since him show up, Nexus's eyes opened wide to look at him in surprise.

Their approaching feet stopped, they looked intently at the fire burning the carpet next to them. A few balls couldn't stand the luck, half melting and emitting an unpleasant smell of burning synthetic resin.

“I won't go with you, Nexus.” Sun spoke harshly. His hand twitched. A sick feeling went deep into Sun's stomach, making him want to vomit. "Quite the opposite, I  like to stay here."

Sun had never, ever directly pointed a weapon at his family like that, and the thought of hurting someone... Even if it was Nexus, it made Sun's whole body tremble.

Bitter bile seeped into Sun's throat. A dirty feeling that couldn't be washed away flowed through him. It was like a rope was wrapped around Sun's throat, making him writhe in pain.

Sun couldn't breathe.

What is he doing?

Satisfied giggles rang out.

“Oh?” Nexus hummed. “You shot me.”

“You shot your brother.”

‘ And yet you always try to act like you're better than me.’ The meaning behind Nexus's words.

Say it casually as if it were a fact. Say it smugly as if they knew this was going to happen.

Red appeared in Sun's eyes. Red. Red like the blood flowing on Evelyn's head, red like the color of Nexus's eyes, red like the dirt on Sun's hands, which can never be washed off.

The giggle of a certain red devil rang in Sun's ears, causing Sun's snow-white pupils to shrink. No… Just hallucinations. He took a deep breath, avoiding the immediately understanding look from Nexus.

“Don't take another step, because the next shot will be real.” Sun took a deep breath, trying to speak without trembling. Magical colors like a kaleidoscope glowed in Sun's hands. His fan seemed to be overloaded, every part of Sun's body seemed to fall apart. “I suggest you leave, Nexus. Or else…"

“Or else you will kill me, right?”

Sun was about to say he would expel Nexus, but Nexus' answer left him stunned.

What percentage of his magic would succeed, and what percentage would it fail like the other things Sun had attempted.

A painful chuckle echoed in Nexus's mouth, close to the edge of madness. There was a bitter feeling in it, and it made Sun feel endlessly guilty.

“So little Sunny finally grew a spine. It's sad that it took two Moons for that to happen.”

“When did you learn magic? I remember you were so insistent that you didn't want to touch these nonsense crap at all."

“Is it because of Moon?” Nexus' eyes narrowed. Sun's silence seemed to confirm Nexus's guess. “I'm never really good enough, am I?” They scoffed. “As soon as I left, you replaced me with that monster version, and running after him like an off-leash pet.”

It hurts. Hearing that from someone who was also his brother hurt so much. But it cannot be more painful than the feeling of betrayal that Earth has experienced, or Moon getting tortured.

“Are you done yet?” Sun was tired, he knew Nexus was trying to insult him, that any reaction from Sun would only give Nexus an advantage.

But he is very tired.

Part of Sun wanted to give up, let Nexus take him away. It's better to surrender to reduce the pain than to resist and the result will still be the same. But the other part in Sun, the one had to restrain Moon, Eclipse, and whoever was in his head from trying to control give Nexus a middle finger.

Sun cannot give up, not when he has Earth, Lunar, Moon... and the destructive potential of the Wither Storm and whatever plans Nexus wants to try for the world.

Strangely, the fleeting thought of death was so light compared to what was before Sun.

“Nah— You understand me, Sun. I will never go without what I want.” Nexus chuckled, his finger pointing at Sun.

Daycare still plays the cheerful, annoying music as if nothing had happened. A feeling of deja vu made Sun's heart sink deeper, as a shot was fired right in the area where he and Nexus were standing right now.

“So, if Sunny boy really wants to leave, you have to be the one to do it first—.‌”

The gears in Sun's chest stopped turning once. A smile spread across Nexus's lips, his arms spread wide. Their eyes were closed, they looked completely at peace.

“Shoot Sun. Break me, destroy me into pieces.‌ If you have the guts, do so, so I can't cause any more harm to your family.”

Sun wants to say Nexus was also his family, Nexus is still his brother.

“But remember, I'm only giving you this first shot for free.”

Another image placed on Nexus. Blue separates into orange and red.

‘See you in hell, Sun. ’ A tired, bitter smile, angry eyes, unwilling to give up even in death.

'Cowardice. Useless. Without Moon you are nothing— ' The impostor wore Moon's face, provoking him with evil words.

“So, let's give me your best shot.”

Five-colored light flashed brightly in Sun's hand. Shoot. Don't Shoot. Just let go. Just relax. Whether it was Eclipse's whisper or Bloodmoon's, he no longer knew.

It's easy, very simple, especially when he is already charge.

Just release it.

You can do it, Sun.

‘ You are my older brother, Sun. I care about you.'

Nexus's face appeared, full of concern and understanding.

The magical light grew louder and louder, before completely extinguishing in Sun's hands. Standing there stiffly, the hand still couldn't be lowered. Sun can't, he can't attack M–Nexus.

‘ What a coward, Sun.’

“It's not that I didn't expect it, but it's also disappointing.

Nexus walked around Sun, his neck sticking out excitedly like a vulture hunting its prey. Touching Sun's spell-casting arm, they suddenly lifted Sun up. 

“–!!?”

Sun screamed in confusion into the air, and in a moment that was probably only a few seconds, he was thrown hard to the ground. His metal skeleton groaned in pain, warning triangles flashed, causing his optics to turn yellow.

Maybe something broke. Suddenly, there was a soft falling sound of something hitting Sun's head. He groaned and picked it up, his sensors classifying it as a toy.

What is this?

A worn sun doll blinked back at Sun. A cold feeling reached the heart of Sun's non-existence, algorithms 0 and 1 jumped like locusts, howling in a vortex of indignation.

“Yeah… If I was you, I would have watched my baby deer better.”

Nexus's voice rang in Sun's ears as if it were annoying, the bell rang with every step they took. “By the way, the new outfit is nice, it would be a shame if it were damaged, right, Sun?"

“W–Where is Dazzle???” Sun's voice trembled. He held the doll tightly with him, clumsily stood up and rushed to grab Nexus' shirt. “Nexus, WHERE IS DAZZLE!!!?”

Not paying attention to Sun's violent attitude, Nexus just touched his fingertips. An immature sound rang out.

“H–Hello? Hey Sun!!!”

“DAZZLE!! DAZZLE!!! WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU HURT?!!!” Sun desperately clung to the receiver.

“No-o?? I'm playing with Jack. We're going on an adventure! Oh, Jack said we have to keep it a secret now…”

“Jack? Dazzle, you tell me where you are?! Please Dazzle–”

Nexus turned off the mic before Sun could finish speaking. “You know, I forgot when Solar and I created Jack, we, actually, it was Solar's idea, to put a backup code inside, in case anyone hacked Jack's code. Then, the administrator rights will still belong to Solar. And even though that idiot Monty changed quite a few things for that traitor, the original settings are still the same.”

“And with my negative star power, things can be really easy.”

Sun looked up at Nexus, they smiled cheekily. Horrible smile, full of teeth.

“You don't want both Jack and Dazzle to become Lunar. 2.0, do you, Sun?”

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, pt 6

part 5 | could we? wood we? - - - - -

💤 | cuddles

Kara Zor El, eater of foods, saver of worlds, and, above all else, lover of cuddles, was in a predicament. 

More specifically her predicament was around the whole ‘lover of cuddles’ thing which, normally, wasn’t a predicament. In fact, normally it was second nature. Because of course she was going to sweep Alex into a giant hug any chance she could. And obviously she was going to drag Nia, kicking and screaming, onto a shared loveseat at game night. And most definitely, her internal clock was going to wake an hour early every time Lena slept over to sneak in some extra pre-work cuddles.

Which would have been so normal.

But then Kara discovered The Line in Lena’s closet. And then in the woods there was The Moment.

This was why Kara now lay awake, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars she and Lena had plastered to her ceiling three weeks ago mulling. 

And not the good kind that comes around the holidays and brings festive cheer and warmth and tidings of comfort. 

No. There was absolutely no comfort and definitely no festive cheer. This was the kind of mulling that led to existential crises and fretting and second guessing and exactly four inches of space between herself and a soft, slumbering best friend. A demilitarized zone. A limbo. A Line.

And such a predicament it was because, up until recently, it hadn’t crossed Kara’s mind that these late nights turned sleepovers turned early morning cuddles might have toed a line. A line that seemed to loom larger and bigger and greater and cloudier with each passing day because the looming felt heavier and weightier and - oh gosh Lena just looked so peaceful when she slept.

Kara blinked away from her best friend’s curled form and back to the constellations above, settling on the Coma Berenices Lena insisted on making room for just down from Ursa Major. She replayed the Queen’s story in her head, trying to ignore the fact that, normally, she’d already be curled against Lena’s back with a hand wrapped around her waist and nose pressed to her exposed neck. And normally that would have been met with a small sigh and a hand curled around said arm wrapped around said waist and then maybe - maybe - once the soft, steady breathing meant Lena was asleep, then maybe she’d have normally pressed her lips to her neck as a friendly - platonic - goodnight kiss. 

But tonight played out differently than that.

It began like most: Lena came over with a bottle of wine, a bag of take-out, and the soft kind of smile Kara pretended was only ever meant for her.

It continued as usual: they lingered in the kitchen while the bottle was uncorked, the containers were portioned onto plates, and that same soft kind of smile Kara pretended was only ever meant for her lingered behind stories of their days.

It even managed to stay normal through the first thirty minutes of the docuseries: a glass of red was topped-up, the empty plates were stacked on the coffee table, and the soft kind of smile Kara pretended was only ever meant for her was paired with a contented sigh as tucked legs were untucked and extended across Kara’s lap.

And Kara kept it cool as a cucumber. She didn’t overthink the shared blanket wrapped around them or the slip of her hands beneath the soft weave to settle on Lena’s legs or the muscle memory that sent those same hands lightly massaging tight calves or how those same hands wandered and settled where socks and sweats didn’t quite meet or how they danced across the exposed patch of skin or how a yelp of realization flew out of her mouth when she realized what her treacherous hands were doing.

Admittedly, that last bit was not a cool cucumber sort of thing to do. It was more of a ‘having kittens’ moment.

And that’s when the night derailed.

“What’s wrong?” Lena asked a half-standing Kara tripping over the blanket and spilling confused noises from her mouth. 

“I-I… I gotta-”

“Go.”

Surprisingly, it only took a moment for Kara’s adrenaline-fueled brain to connect the dots: she glanced at Lena who was glancing out toward the city, face serious and full of intent.

“This can wait; Supergirl can’t,” Lena continued, reaching to pause the show.

And yea, maybe Kara should found her big girl pants and told Lena there wasn’t an emergency and that her super hearing hadn’t picked up some tragedy that needed her attention and that actually it was because the pads of her unreliable fingers were toeing the friendship line and the hilarity of them being fingers and not toes was not lost on Kara but this was not the moment or time for laughing. This was a time for panicking. 

So Kara didn’t put on her big girl pants. Instead, she got rid of her pants and flaunted her Supergirl outfit and flew out into the night without so much as a cat to untree.

She kept to the skies until well past the soft murmur of Lena’s heartbeat confirmed a deep slumber before, like the coward she was, Kara crept back into her apartment and settled - floated? hovered - just above the mattress.

And mulled.

She hated lying to Lena. Of all the people in her whole multi-planetary life, Lena’s trust mattered to her the most, yet it was hard to tell the truth about something Kara didn’t even fully understand. Was there something to understand?

Her brow crinkled. It was a crinkle that Alex would poke at and Nia would prod at but one Lena would wipe away with a soft brush. Kara wasn’t quite so gentle. She rubbed her nose a bit too aggressively, and maybe that aggression rattled the air a bit too much because the calm of Lena’s breathing broke and her heart stuttered and curled form unrolled and a pair of sleepy eyes landed on Kara’s still very crinkly face.

“Hey,” and ooph did Lena’s sleep voice hit in ways Kara couldn’t articulate. She didn’t try because a hand had already climbed its way to Kara’s forearm and squeezed. “Everything ok?”

“Yea.”

“You sure? Because… Kara are you floating?”

“I, uh… didn’t want to wake you?”

A soft, sleepy chuckle crawled across the mattress and dragged Kara onto the mattress. “My hero.”

The words tickled Kara’s ears. And other things.

“Everyone safe?” Lena continued, pulling the duvet to cover both of them before finding a home nestled into Kara’s side.

“Mhm,” Kara managed, throat tight, pulse racing, and body temperature sweltering past the surface temperature of the sun.

“Good,” Lena hummed and sighed and tucked closer with a comforting arm slipping onto Kara’s waist.

It took seconds for Lena’s breathing to slow and fall back into a rhythmic slumber. Meanwhile, Kara hardly breathed at all, fighting her natural instinct to squeeze an arm around Lena and in lieu of honoring the line.

The line that had already been crossed. And honestly? Crossing the line felt nice. It felt good. It felt perfect.

So, yea. Kara Zor El, eater of foods, saver of worlds, and, above all else, lover of cuddles, was in a predicament. Because her best friend in the whole world was curled around her and maybe - maybe - Kara wanted to keep crossing the line. Because maybe - maybe - Kara wanted something more.

- - - - - -

part 7 | mistletoe magic

[larrylimericks]

23Mar23

We’re feeling some internal friction At silver screen Louis’ depiction; All the world is a stage But it’s hard to engage When plot lines combine fact and fiction.

I get really rambly below the fold. Proceed with caution if you’re over the discourse already.

I debated seeing All of Those Voices in theaters. I didn’t see either of Harry’s films in theaters — Harries are too much of a wildcard, and I refused to sit through hours of squeals and gasps and reactions, not to the movie but to “omg! Harry’s going down on someone! omg, Harry’s bum!” So I was already tentative about seeing Louis’ film in a shared space, outside the protective silos of tumblr. But I bought a ticket, because I want to support him and because I was genuinely curious what story would be told. Then we got the trailer and I hesitated again, not wanting to watch a propaganda film. But, I’ve lived through all the other Bullshit moments, so I figured I could live through Bullshit on the big screen.

My theater crowd was great — pretty neutral aside from an amusing row of politely excitable Larries I was in secret solidarity with. And I pretty much loved the film. Well, 92% of it. I look forward to watching it again when it streams. I mean, it was an hour and a half of content featuring this fascinating creature we’re all obsessed with. I didn’t want to blink. I hung on his every word (when I could understand them). How cool to get, essentially, a long-form interview, where he’s not promoting an album and we’re not getting the same sound bytes. Louis is wonderfully open and vulnerable, and the story of his life (heh) is inherently compelling. The cinematography is beautiful. The behind-the-scenes are delightful and delicious. I can’t wait for the AOTV gif sets once we have it in high-def.

But it has some plot holes as wide and deep as the ones in Don’t Worry Darling.

First, there’s the confusing (to the uninformed) absence of a love interest. Louis is asexual, as far as the film goes. There’s not even a ghost of Eleanor, with whom he’s cumulatively spent a decade and who is supposed to have inspired so many great love songs and with whom he is supposed to have survived a pandemic. Props to E for living her best life now: going to see Scream on AOTV opening day, enjoying full custody of the pups, publicly supporting her assumed partner — sorry you got Kiki Layned from the film, but I’m guessing you weren’t even written into the script. (It’s not like the film was conveniently re-edited in the months since their break-up. Her stunt tapering was intentional.)

Then there’s the glaring absence of a baby mama (thank god; that family would have been even more insufferable). We’re cruising along for 45 minutes or so and then, wham, Dad!Louis enters the chat with a fully formed 6-year-old child. The kid just magically appears with no backstory — just like in real life ... twice (the first time with the pregnancy announcement and the second time with the revival of Dad!Louis after several years of dormancy, right in time for documentary filming. Just like Harry stunted with his co-star during filming and production, Louis stunted with his.)

The kid is cute, and faultless in this. The scenes are objectively sweet (as they were designed to be). But Louis, who normally keeps things very close to the vest, is all of a sudden an emotional spigot you can’t turn off when it comes to these scenes. It seems quite out of character. Which brings back to mind that this Louis *is* a character. The Freddie scenes just didn’t seem to have a point in the plot other than: Louis is a dad. And that role isn’t integral to the film’s story.

He’s incredibly emotional with Freddie, but the movie doesn’t tell us why. The storytelling gets lazy here. The lad/dad plot seems wedged in. The movie would be perfectly complete without it. I felt like it could have been integrated a few different ways: Louis experienced tragedy after tragedy after tragedy — loses 1D, loses his mum, loses his sister ... and then impending fatherhood either becomes another trial he must reluctantly face (in the surprise pregnancy narrative) or it helps him navigate the grief of losing his sole parent, his closest confidante. OR, Louis, not wanting to be like the absentee father he had, shows up for his own oopsie baby despite the unexpected circumstances. But there’s no exposition or rising action. No footage or photos from the first few years of the kid’s life that we haven’t already seen. Just an immaculate conception.

I think the most compelling narratives of the film are these:

Louis’ overcoming adversity after adversity after adversity. Holy hell. I lived through 1D ending, through the devastating news about Jay (god, I remember the shock and sadness of that day — it was incomprehensible), through the heartbreaking news about Fizzy, and then when you think Louis is gonna get his moment of victory with his first solo world tour, coronavirus pulls the rug out. (That sequence was well done: where we keep seeing the dates get closer and closer to March 2020, and we all know the villain that’s coming, but it’s still such a blow.) I lived through all that in real time, but seeing it in such a concentrated sequence really highlights the shit he’s been dealt, and hearing him open up about so much of it ... that’s the character development relevant to the film’s denouement. And getting to see Louis get what he deserves, finally, and hearing him acknowledge that he deserves it, was a lovely ending.

Louis’ journey to find his footing and his confidence as a solo artist after unfathomable success as part of a group. But, in a sort of plot twist, he’s not really solo, is he? The film gives a lovely introduction to his band now — and in their own words, reveals that they’re not just a backing band, they’re a *band* band. Louis has let them in. He’s forged a new brotherhood. *That*, for me, was the heartwarming story. I loved those scenes, loved seeing Louis in his element, which is in a collective, where he is both king and jester at the same time. (Or perhaps Oli’s the jester. Thank fuck for him, man. Oli is the standout. The breakthrough performance. The comic relief. I want a spinoff series.) It’s easy to miss 1D and glorify those short years and think nothing will ever top it, but Charlie’s storytelling of the LT Band is remarkable. We’re left looking forward, not back.

I know Louis’ dedication to his fans and his fans’ dedication to him is a huge focus, but I don’t really enjoy watching commentaries on fandoms I’m a part of. I’m living it. I don’t need outsider context. And in a fandom as fractured as Louis’ (and 1D’s) there’s not a universal experience. The film depicts dedication as sleeping on streets for rail, hopping from country to country and draining bank accounts — because that’s the kind of “superfandom” that gets easily turned into a marketable freak show. Show me the documentary on the fans who organize the light projects, who run the fashion accounts, who curate livestream sources on show nights, who have turned giffing into an art and science, who help promote Louis in the absence of a competent marketing team, etc., etc. I also thought the interview with the American(?) girls talking about LATAM shows was shortsighted. And showing the rainbow factions but not addressing them? What a missed opportunity to talk about songs like Only the Brave becoming a queer anthem. Straight artists can have gay fans, you know.

But the film doesn’t make the kid relevant to any of those storylines. He could have been worked into the first, but wasn’t. It was like a standalone narrative, with footage from a narrow set of days. I was at both those L.A. shows. The energy was so different from night 1 to 2. And in retrospect it’s clear Louis was performing the first night so Charlie could get the right shots. More like a choreographed play than a rock concert. It makes sense now why the Clarks weren’t in the VIP box with Freddie — couldn’t have them cluttering the frame or distracting the actors. Just, everything about the Freddie scenes is heavy-handed. Make a sign for your dad! Draw his logo in the sand! Fly a kite at sunset! He’s the spitting image of Louis! (Len does all the heavy lifting.) And all the maneuvering it had to take to get all those shots from the L.A. show?! In the VIP box from behind (and from the front, and when he just happens to be mouthing along to Two Of Us), side stage watching Louis end the show, on-stage watching Louis approach Freddie after the show, on-stage catching the moment Louis gives the lad a shout-out ... Charlie had a shot list. But sure, nothing was set up, it was totally organic.

I’m still unsettled by how heavily Charlie laid it on at the first premiere press conference — *he* was the one to bring up the kid, and was weirdly emphatic that nothing was staged, nothing was forced. It had the same energy of the “It’s. Not. Real” thrown baby doll moment, only it’s Charlie insisting that It. Is. Real. Thou dost protest too much, me thinks.

And of course, the lack of interaction between Louis and Harry remains, as ever, the biggest tell. We get poignant post-1D Nouis and Lilo moments in the film, but no Larry. We’re spoon-fed these Very Emotional Moments between father and son (“love you,” “Darling,” mouth kisses), when the real story, the real emotion, the real connection is in just a few seconds of furtive glances between Harry and Louis in the backstage footage of the last 1D performance. Christ, the way Harry’s eyes bore into Louis — chin tilted down, eyes glancing up from beneath a furrowed brow, lips tight, disguising his attentiveness with a hair flip ... they mastered so many forms of silent communication. The quiet call and response, the depths of love and care and concern and protection contained in micro-expressions. Fuck, give me 90 minutes of that. Just a silent film of Louis and Harry looking at each other.

Anyway. Sorry this sounds so grumpy. I did really love most of the movie. But I haven’t made sense of why this film was made. I don’t know its purpose. Maybe the introspection forced by the pandemic lockdown is to credit for this glut of music docs (“docs”) lately. Maybe nine minutes frees him up for nine more months or nine more years. I dunno. He obviously wanted this story told in this way.

Seeing a movie requires the willing suspension of disbelief. You have to ignore critical thinking in order to enjoy the story you’re being told. You tune out your knowledge that everything is fake for the sake of being entertained. We know that Superman can’t actually fly, but we still buy tickets to the cinema. But, a documentary shouldn’t require us to employ this semi-conscious perceiving mode. Yet here we are. I’m just not sure how much more or how much longer we can suspend our disbelief to enjoy fandom.

[coffeeadict61]

Humans Are Weird: Female Rage

Report: #298

Topic: Female Rage

Rage: Violent or uncontrollable anger.

I have studied the human race for months now but today is the day I have learned to fear them. Forget their unpredictable bodies, or overly complex inventions, or the horrific moments that crowd their history. It was only today I feared for my life in the presence of a human being.

I often record anger in incident reports and the like, but women make up a very tiny proportion of that. They tend to "keep their cool" ( a human turn of phrase) better than men on average. This doesn't seem to be a natural attribute but more of a learned survival mechanism against violence and abuse. It only seems to break the surface in grief or after years of trauma. But the new astrophysics intern Colette [Last Name Redacted] showed me a new human emotion. Rage.

Our ships astrophysics department was partnering with our engineering department to design a small weapons craft to protect us from the "space pirates" or looters we keep encountering. I had created a bond of "friendship" with little Colette, I suppose little doesn't fit. She is above average height and slightly underweight, (she is having trouble adjusting to our menu due to "texture issues" which I need to educate myself on). Moving forward. She came to speak to me on a very serious matter a week ago exactly while I was on my daily rounds. This was the reason I was behind schedule, she has, and I quote, "little legs" in comparison to mine. Colette spoke of the weapons project she had been assigned too. She spoke at length about her supervisors who wouldn't listen to her. She had discovered a bug in the engine system. A four that looked like a nine or something of that nature, and believed it to put the test pilots in danger. She requested that I ask management to promote her so that her voice would be listened too. I tried to calm her worries but she was insistent so I told her I'd try to bring it up in the next meeting. That meeting was yesterday. In the six days between our conversation and my turn to give my reports for the management council, I had talked myself out of my promise. I figured that her superiors knew best and she was just ambitious and maybe she didn't see what she thought she saw. Regardless, it is the biggest regret I carry.

The test flight launched today. The entire crew was given an hour additional break to watch. Colette tried to prevent the launch, arguing with the head scientists, trying to show them test she ran digitally, but they had security pull her back. She came to find me, asking if I spoke to management. I didn't answer. The announcer counted down in human numerals.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 LAUNCH

I breathed a sigh of relief as the craft glided safely away, but Colette didn't, she didn't move an inch. The projects leader gave instructions through a radio. The experimental engines roared to life. Then, a moment of silence. Before the entire space craft was engulfed in a cloud of fire and gas. The silent explosion shook the floor beneath us as gasps and screams gave it a voice. The entire crew was killed. Many of them, friends or family of the onlookers. The onboard medic, the project leader's son and Colette's young husband. She collapsed to the ground sobbing, unable to stand on her shaking legs. I couldn't get her to move. I didn't try very hard.

Security swarmed the crowd, pushing them back from the windows and herding the grieving crowd to the different living areas. Many had to be carried. I carried Colette.

Hours later, after an emergency meeting and a meal, everyone was in bed. All but the council, security, the engineering department,and the astrophysics department. We sat in heavy silence as the project leader explained the error that lead to this tragedy. I studied him closely. No tears, just a stone cold face and a tremor in his hands. Suddenly the doors crashed open as Colette burst in. She wasn't grieving now. Colette grabbed the microphone from the leader's hand and threw it at the wall. It went straight through. Then she spoke. Shaking slightly, controlled rage gave the impression of bullets falling from her mouth with each syllable. "Murderers. You are all murderers." No one moved as we took on the weight of her statements. She spoke again but this time it was wasn't controlled. This time her rage wasn't an undertone but the message. This time she screamed it in a voice that echoed around the room and shook with each new sob.

"I TOLD YOU! I FING TOLD YOU THEY WOULD DIE! WHY DIDN'T YOU LISTEN TO ME?! HOW COULD YOU KILL THEM LIKE THAT?! IT'S YOUR FING FAULT!"

She broke anything within reach. A mug, "THEY WERE YOUR TEAM!" a chair, "WHY DIDN'T YOU PROTECT THEM?" a table, "YOUR OWN SON AND YOU STAND HERE CALLING IT AN ACCIDENT!" her voice. "IF YOU HAD BELIEVED ME AND MY EVIDENCE INSTEAD OF PLAYING F***ING POLITICS…"

She stopped. She stopped screaming, stopped crying, stopped expressing her pain. She bottled it up and wiped her face with her sweaters sleeve. She just stared at him. Taking deep breaths as he shook under her gaze. "Why didn't you listen to him? To me?" He fought back his tears and straightened his jacket. "Abe knew the risks-" Colette stepped forward and punched him hard, his nose making an audible crunch. Blood stained her knuckles as she hit him again and again. Finally I got up and grabbed her around her middle, pulling her off before she went to far. The leader whimpered and leaned on a table as she fought to get to him. To tear him apart. Finally she just stood rigidity holding onto me. "Never say his name again. You aren't his father. You're a murderer and you never deserved Abraham." She spit at his feet.

"Coward."

I pulled her out of the meeting hall, locked her in her quarters, and stood guard. I relive her plea for me to approach the council on her behalf. I cannot deny my part in the crew's death and doubt I'll ever forgive myself. Colette will surely never forgive me either.

In conclusion, I advise the guilty professionals and researchers transferred and tried. Both for the safety of our crew and themselves. Their professional licenses should be revoked no matter the outcome of their individual trials. We also need to form a mental health department and start providing dietary options for all diets and sensitivities. I also advise (though I recognize my lack of authority on the matter) that crewmember Colette [Last Name Redacted] be released of all charges and assigned a personal therapist of her choosing. As for the other loved ones of our lost crew, they should also receive support options and memorials for their lost and any other requests we can fulfil. I pray we never have a similar story to tell the next generation.

Human Observer #5743

[xhollandlilsx]

Red Card (pt 2) - (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Concept- Leah and Y/N have been broken up for months, but things kick off when Leah gets jealous during the game against Y/Ns team.

Warnings: Shit Ending.

Pt 1 << Here.

“You ready?” Ella asked as I sat down next to her on the bus, we were still waiting for a few players to arrive but because of the cold they let us on the coach early.

“Of course!” I replied excitedly. The recovery period was awful. 6 weeks of not playing, my first training session back I could not keep up, I knew I’d be on the bench at the start of the game, Marc had an idea of me being a ‘Super Sub’.

I’d only been back for one game before international break started and we were thrown into the England base camp, we had a game against

“You heard from-“

“Yep. A good amount of messages and calls”

“Did you answer?” She asked as we waited at a traffic light and I put ABBA on for her.

“Nope.” I sighed, “She tried to talk to me at training this week too, I just walked away, I couldn’t.”

She did refrain from asking any more, when she realised my tone had changed. It hurt me to ignore Leah but she messed up. Big time.

I pulled my AirPods from my England puffer jacket I had wrapped around me, and offered one to Ella. I wanted to get my head in focus, so I put mine in as Ella shrugged and accepted it putting it in her ear.

*******

We got off the coach and I took a deep breath, before stepping off after Lucy, I’d spent the week with Georgia, Lucy and Kiera, whenever they weren’t with Leah. I wasn’t petty, I was pissed off.

I looked into the camera to the right of us as we walked into Wembley, preparing for the game against Brazil. Raised a fist up and silently cheered before laughing and carrying on walking.

We all made our way to the changing room as I walked over to my shirt, putting my duffel bag on the floor. I smiled at my name in big letters along with the number 11, taking a deep breath I left it on its hanger and sat under it, seeing Georgia pull her phone out and take a photo, so I posed for it before grabbing my shin pads and throwing them on under my joggers.

When it was time to go out and warm up, the atmosphere was insane, ever since the euros there has been a massive influx of fans. I jogged over to the other side line, as fans cheered and clapped, I ran along side Alessia and Chloe. All of us running almost in waves to the side line as fans cheered, the three of us ran over and started to pass one of the balls back and forth between us.

“You alright?” I asked Less, as she looked slightly nervous, like something was bothering her.

“Yeah!” She smiled before kicking the ball to Chloe.

After we’d all warmed up, we began to walk back inside. I shoved my hands in my pockets, only taking them out to wave at a few fans sat around the tunnel.

*******

The game kicked off, and I was not in the starting eleven. If I’m honest I didn’t want to be. I liked the idea of being a ‘super sub’ for this game, I knew the way Brazil operated.

I sat on the side rubbing my hands together trying to generate some heat, the whistle blew for the kick off after everyone took the knee.

The game started off with England having most possession, but Brazil were putting up a good fight. I spent most of the first half an hour ruining my vocal chords, screaming and shouting while sat next to Alessia and Nikita.

“We aren’t playing wide enough” Nikita spoke as she watched. I nodded before I saw one of the Brazilian players collide, hard, with Leah.

“Ref!” I shouted from the side line. It was dirty and anyone with eyes could see that. Leah was stopping that player at any opportunity Brazil made, so you could tell the player had enough, “What the fuck!”

I shook my head as I crossed my arms and watched the ref hold up a yellow card, though Leah was limping back into position.

“Serena, how long?” I asked, hoping to go on soon. My eyes stayed trained on Leah, how she was limping.

“Not yet” She shook her head, I trusted her more than anything, I knew she was only keeping me off because of my injury, and worry that I wouldn’t be 100% like I usually am.

******

Half way through the second half I saw Serena wave me over. I quickly threw my bib off and warmed up, running up and down the side line a couple times.

I adjusted my socks before the ref called for the substitution, Chloe ran over to me and high-fived me before whispering ‘number 15’ in my ear. Meaning number 18 is gonna be my biggest problem.

I nodded before jogging on and into position, where there was a throw in being taken.

‘Substitution for England, coming off, number eighteen, Chloe Kelly. Being substituted for number eleven, Y/N Y/L/N.’

It always felt good when fans screamed when your name was called out, but nothing like Wembley. The crowd erupted, making Georgia look at me with a ‘what the-‘ look to which I mirrored.

I tucked my fly always behind my ears and waited for the ref to blow the whistle to start again. When she did we were off.

It didn’t take long for me to get the ball from one of their players, passing it out wide to Ella. I didn’t waste any time in running up the pitch, Ella made it around the players coming at her and attempted a cross, at which when I went to connect my foot to it, I felt a huge shove to the back by a pair of hands making me fall forward to my knees.

“What the fuck!” I shouted standing up again, as the ref blew the whistle, almost squaring up to the girl.

“Não havia nada de errado com isso. Eu mal toquei em você!” She argued to which I lost it.

“Você me empurrou pelas costas! Foda-se cara.” I shook my head as the ref came and stood between us, holding up a yellow card, booking her.

“Back into position!” Leah shouted over the fans cheering at the ref’s decision, I shook my head before walking back into position, fans chanting ‘my’ chant, the reaction from fans never ceases to amaze me, especially when you actually look up and see signs with your name on, or backs with your name on.

Around the 80th minute we were drawing 1-1, Leah had been subbed off due to her limp along with Lauren and Fran. My eyes scanned every player wearing a white shirt and nodded to myself a million plays taking place in my head. I waited until I had the ball at my feet, before passing it long out wide to Ella again, only I just about made it to the edge of the box when a cross came in from Ella.

My foot made contact with it sending it above the goalkeepers hands and into the back of the net. Excitement filling my body as I ran over to the side and jumped turning mid air and pointing to the name on the back of my shirt with my thumbs.

The crowd was ecstatic, I smiled as Georgia jumped into my arms. I lifted her up and laughed as a bunch of the other girls ran over and hugged us too. On my run back to my position I looked over to see Leah cheering too ^^, giving me a proud nod.

I kept my head down for the rest of the game managing two more goals in the space of 11 minutes, including five minutes added time. I couldn’t have done it without the amazing assists from the girls but I was happy for once with the way I’d played.

********

On the walk back to the changing room we made our way to the tunnel, and Kiera jumped on my back, messing my ponytail up.

I shook my head before shrugging her off and smiling at a group of fans with their phones out and holding signs up with my name on it. I saw a little girl smiling with her beanie on a little too low and a United shirt with my name on for me to sign.

I shook my head before pointing to the pen in her hand, and mouthing ‘pen’ to her knowing she wouldn’t hear me over the music and the fans, and she threw it down to me. I saw Leah stop beside me looking up in confusion as to what I was doing.

I took my England shirt from over my head and told Leah to turn around so I could sign it on her back. She did so without any protest, silently hoping this was a sign we were good again. I just knew there was no point being at odds when there’s this many cameras on us.

I signed it and wrapped it up in a ball with the pen and threw it up to the little girl. I saw her begin to cry as I blew her a kiss and waved at a few others before walking inside with Leah and now Georgia.

**********

The game ended on a 2-1 win to England, Lucy and I scoring the goals for England. Once in the changing room after I sat next to Georgia as she was wearing number 10, and we were talking about the game when I saw her look over to the other side of the room and nod.

I followed her eyes but there was a few of them, so I didn’t know who she was nodding to.

“Y’alright?” I asked her to which she nodded and closed her duffel bag.

“Please talk to her. I know what happened, and it was shitty. But please” Georgia begged me before walking out with a few of the other girls, leaving just Leah, Ellie and I.

Although I think Ellie got the picture when she looked between us and excused herself taking her half opened bag with her.

“Y/N.” She started before stopping obviously not having planned this out, “You have every reason to hate me. Like really hate me. I already hate myself, If I could take it back I would, I don’t even know what came over me. I was blind with anger.”

“Why?”

“W-when I saw you… with Russo. I lost it… I thought you’d moved on, and I couldn’t bare to see you move on. I know it’s selfish.” She sighed sitting opposite me, resting her elbows on her knees like I was.

“Leah you fractured my ribs.” I told her, with a heavy breath, “Alessia told me you had been giving her the cold shoulder all week too. I told you time and time again when we were together that I had no interest in Less. That I only wanted you, but you never accepted that. But what you did, Leah…”

“I know. God Y/N I know, I hate myself for what I did, when I saw you in that hospital room I was disgusted with myself, and I know I was a dick to you, but Y/N I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I just… I’m not asking you to be with me, I just need you to hear that I’m sorry.”

“I hear you.” I nodded, my tone a little more blunt than I intended to be, before picking my duffel bag up from the floor and attempting to walk out of the door to my left when she shot up and stopped me by placing her hands either side of my cheeks, with a ‘no…’.

We both stumbled slightly before she placed her forehead against mine, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Im sorry, I’m sorry.”

She repeated like a prayer whispering, as I closed my eyes, as much as she hurt me, I couldn’t deny the full feeling in my heart, the small ache when she stood so close to me. We’ve all done things we regret when angry, said things, punched things, threw things, but this wasn’t something I was gonna take lightly.

The way her hair eyes watered as she let a small sob interrupt her ‘sorry’s’. I wrapped my arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around my neck, I sighed, realising no matter what happens, I will love this girl with every fibre of my being.

I knew I couldn’t forgive her fully yet, but I also knew I couldn’t stay mad at her, I wanted to forgive her, but I had to take the first step.

Acceptance.

A/N: I hate this. I hate the ending but oh well, Bon appetite.

[sammy-sexy-masochist]

So, I did it. I ordered us new "torture" tools. The past few days have been a blur of pain-defficiency. The old cane, bent and worn, felt like a ghost of what it used to be and it didn't cut it anymore.

I craved the kind of pain that makes you scream until your throat is raw, makes you thrash and cry on the brink of spitting out a safeword, but… not quite. Something special.

So I went searching. Hours and hours, lost in reviews, reading about different materials, weighing my options until I finally found them.

A 6 mm diameter, whippy delrin cane, 60 cm of pure elegance; and a 5 mm diameter, stiff glass fiber cane, 70 cm of cold, sharp danger.

When the international shipment finally arrived, it felt like Christmas morning. I was so damn excited.

Skipping to unpacking those beauties with Nellie. She even let me touch them, which I am most of the time not allowed to do. She kept saying that they were so elegant and beautiful that she was captivated.

They were everything I’d hoped for — smooth, cold, so much thinner than our old 8 mm cane, and so much more dangerous. I was proud that she not only accepted but cherished them, and that I made a good choice.

I loved how beautiful those nasties looked. I could already feel the anticipation as I begged her to try them out on me, just once, just on my legs, even clothed.

She made me wait a little. Of course, she did. Then, finally, she gave in. And it hurt.

It hurt so fucking much.

The sharp ache pulsed through my thigh for a long time. And I knew — this was it. This was exactly what I’d been looking for. Nellie was practically glowing as I told her how much it hurt. And then she said, “Imagine 150 strokes.”

Just those words sent a rush of uncontrolled heat between my legs. The thought of enduring that… I wanted her to do it right then and there, to make me scream and cry and beg for mercy.

But we had to go to bed early that night, so I was left staring at those stunning, cruel canes, imagining the agony they’d bring.

And Nellie, she said to me as we lay in bed, her voice teasing: “Maybe you’ll have to safeword next time. You must be scared.”

And ugh, yes, I am. I’m scared that I won’t be able to endure, but I will have to, right? I need to hear her say it again and again, how much it’s going to hurt, how there will be nothing but pain.

Just the thought of it is enough to make me moan. I need her to tell me that I’ll endure, that I’ll take it all, and then she’ll make me take it again. Like a perverse lullaby.

[shattered-reflections-au]

Fluffvember 6, Windy Day / "Come closer, I can't hear-ahhh too close, too close!"

--- --- ---

November. Wind warning month.

70 km, 80km, 90km, all usual speeds that you could expect on days like these. Days when the trees would shake, their branches littering the roadways.

Days when it was hopeless to go outside with a good hairstyle.

Days when you had to say your mournful goodbyes to your trash can.

Days where said trash can should be in your garage lest it end up 3 blocks away.

It was only 9am. Vio had just barely managed to boil the water for tea before the power went out. A scream was heard from upstairs, soon after Green came running downstairs with a towel draped around his waist. He stared at Vio, Vio looking him up and down. "Water. cold. power out?" he choked out. "yep." Vio said, sipping his tea. "fuck." Green spat, trudging back upstairs. --- 30 minutes later Blue came home.

"Garage closed early. Can't run computer diagnostics or car lifts without power." he grumbled, internally praying to hylia that this was paid time off.

Vio nodded, going back to his reading. "Picked Red up too, apparently the bakery had to close since the water there shut off too." Blue added.

"do you know what caused this?" Vio asked. Blue kicked his shoes off, closing the door hard once Red got inside. "few blocks down a tree fell on some power lines. They shut off the town's power so it doesn't kill anybody."

Red looked deflated as he came in. "the baggutes are going to overproof." he said, defeated.

Vio hid his chuckle behind his mug.

The last one to come home was Shadow, two hours later. "big day for oil lamps today," he said as he slammed the door tight, sweeping up the leaves that blew in with his foot. "also big day for cash tips." he added, shoving a few dollars into the communal change jar. "surprised it took that long for the thrift store to close." Vio commented. Shadow glared at his partner. "it closed an hour and a half ago. The busses are down because of the roads. I had to walk." he said, disgruntled.

---

Cereal for lunch. Cereal for dinner. By 5pm all of Vio, Shadow, and Red's mood candles were methodically spread out across the house. Though, it wasn't enough.

The entire house was almost pitch black. The wind outside was loud. Too loud. Too many scary sounds echoed off the walls. Crashes and whooshes and whistles. Red could not sleep.

Red crept downstairs, clutching a spare blanket tightly as he tried not to think about the scary sounds outside.

He knew Blue was sleeping on the couch, his bedroom window having been hit by a branch and shattering it. Red knew Blue was somewhere in the living room. The problem was that Red couldn't see his s way around the living room. "Blue?" Red called out, looking out for his beloved. Red turned a corner, his hands out tracking along the wall so he didn't run into it.

Faintly, he heard Blue's voice. The winds drowned him out. --- Blue was awake, having been pumped full of adrenaline from his window smashing. Faintly, he heard somebody. A blurry silhouette danced across the far wall, muttering a word that sounded somewhat of his name.

The silhouette walked in front of a candle, revealing its shape.

Short, blanketed, rounded but pointed ears, pudgy. "Red?" Blue called, the figure turned to him and made a few sounds. "Red? Come closer, I can't hear you-" Blue called, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Red ran towards him, hopping on the couch and knocking some of the wind out of Blue. "augh- Red- too close-" Blue choked out. Red just snuggled in, pulling both of their blankets over them. Blue shifted, settling his heavy partner on his chest. Red was warm in the cold house, the perfect blanket. Blue's heartbeat drowned out the scary outside noises. It only took a couple moments for the two to fall asleep right where they were on the couch.

--- The power came back on sometime in the early hours of the morning. Vio came downstairs for his morning cup of tea to see Blue and Red still asleep on the couch.

[dailyanarchistposts]

This past International Workers Day, otherwise known as May Day, I attended my local rally. The same old May Day groups were in attendance, Party for Socialist Liberation (PSL), Communist Party USA (CPUSA), Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), and a couple other single issue labor groups. The endless tedium of speeches aside, something strange stood out to me. Every group called for left unity in some way or another. “Unite as workers to crush capitalism,” was the exact quote from the young man in running shoes, jeans, and a bright red PSL shirt. I could have spoken up and made a scene, again, but I feel it is more effective to broadly address why this call for left unity is absurd especially considering the Marxist historical revisionism surrounding May Day. The success of May Day was directly because of the anarchist Haymarket Martyrs and the Marxist attempt to ignore this fact is one of the many reasons why left unity is never in the best interest of anarchists.

Before we begin, it is important to go over the events of the Haymarket uprising on May 4th, 1886. The first May Day was called for by the Federation of Organized Trades and Labor Unions (FOTLU) as the official first day the eight-hour workday in 1886. On May 1st 1886, between 30,000 and 80,000 laborers in Chicago refused to work in support of the eight hour day, which shut down the industrial zones. August Spies, a German-born anarchist and leading contributor to the newspaper Arbeiter-Zeitung, was enthused by the unity and relative success of the eight-hour fight.[1] The McCormick Reaper Works’ solution, instead of meeting the demands of the workers, was to hire scabs. On May 3rd, 1886, striking workers from the McCormick Plant asked Spies to come down to the Southwest side of Chicago and give a speech to bolster morale. Minutes into Spies speech, the scabs began filing out of the plant and the McCormick strikers rushed to the gates of the factory. To protect the business and scabs, 200 police officers rushed in and beat the strikers with clubs and shot them with pistols. According to Spies, 6 strikers were killed including those that were shot in the back as they fled. Spies knew that the battle had been lost and returned to his newspaper office with the sound of screams and pistol fire still ringing in his ear.

That night, August Spies rushed into print several thousand leaflets urging workingmen to come to a meeting the next day, May 4th, at Haymarket Square.[2] The next day, the anarchists August Spies, Albert Parsons, and the Rev. Samuel Fielden spoke to a crowd estimated variously between 600 and 3,000. At around 10:30 PM as Fielden spoke, the police showed up despite the peaceful nature of the crowd. As they ordered the crowd to disperse, a bomb was thrown into the advancing officers, killing 6. The Police then opened fire on the anarchists killing 4 and some of the anarchists returned fire killing another police officer. The Police argued it was a conspiracy and eight influential anarchists were arrested, including Spies and Parsons, who were not present but had significant influence in the community. On November 11th 1887, 4 convicted anarchists including Spices, Parsons, Adolph Fischer, and George Engle were hanged. The state executions further enraged the broader community and would be the catalyst for the International Workers Day.

The Haymarket Uprising was internationally significant. During the funeral procession for the anarchists in Chicago, the historian Philip Foner estimates, between 150,000 and 500,000 people lined the streets in support. Both the American Federation of Labor and the Knights of Labor, although initially reluctant, supported the slain anarchists as heroes of labor. The Knights of Labor even published the autobiographies of Parsons, Spies, Fischer, Engle, and the anarchist who killed himself in prison, Oscar Neebe.[3] The London Freedom group argued “No event in the worldwide evolution of the struggle between socialism and the existing order of society has been so important, so significant, as the tragedy of Chicago.”[4] According to the historian Paul Avrich, pamphlets and articles about the case and autobiographies of the martyrs appeared in every language across the world. In Europe, over twenty-four cities boasted sizeable protests in support of the Haymarket Martyrs.[5] Famous anarchists like Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, and Ricardo Flores Magón all attribute the Haymarket uprising to their radicalization. Moreover, it was not only Europe that celebrated the Haymarket Martyrs. The Times of London reported protests in Cuba, Peru, and Chile.[6] Mary Harris “Mother” Jones was in Mexico on May Day, 1921, and wrote that their May Day was expressly in honor of “the killing of the workers in Chicago for demanding the eight-hour day.”[7] More to this point, during a trip to Mexico in 1939, Oscar Neebe’s grandson was shown a mural by Diego Rivera in the Palace of Justice depicting the Haymarket Martyrs.[8] The international significance of the Haymarket Martyrs was undeniable in the hearts and imagination of all of the Left and is a significant element in the success of May Day.

The success of May Day internationally is thanks to the slain anarchists yet Marxist leadership intentionally omitted the significance of the Haymarket Martyrs to further purge anarchism from the historical record. In 1889, just a few years after the execution, the Marxist International Socialist Congress, who would later form the “Second International,” chose May 1st to celebrate international workers. However, nowhere in the Second International’s proclamation was the slightest mention of anarchism or the Haymarket Martyrs’ sacrifice for the eight-hour workday. The historian Philip Foner in 1969 therefore needed to write an entire book to remind the reader that other than pushing for the eight-hour workday, the secondary purpose of the establishment of International Workers Day on May 1st was to honor the Haymarket Martyrs. He argues “there is little doubt that everyone associated with the resolution passed by the Paris Congress knew of the May 1st demonstrations and strikes for the eight-hour day in 1886 in the United States … and the events associated with the Haymarket tragedy.” [9]

This slight against anarchists should come as no surprise considering the Second International broke with the First International Workingmen’s Association to exclude anarchists. The few anarchist members that refused to leave the Second International were barred from contributing. Member William Morris reveals, “expressions of anarchist ideas were often shouted down, and in one incident Francesco Saverio Merlino faced violence from the other delegates.”[10] The later Soviets were no stranger to historical revisionism either. Whether it is Stalin painting himself into pictures alongside Lenin or more typically painting out figures, like Trotsky, from the historical narrative. Famous member of the Communist Party USA’s central committee and founder of International Publishing, Alexander Trachtenberg, published the definitive “History of May Day” in 1932 and did not mention the word anarchism once.[11] Therefore, the Marxists of the Second international developed the May Day holiday to appropriate the international success of the anarchist Haymarket martyrs, while actively excluding anarchist thought from their sphere of influence.

Rosa Luxemburg also actively excluded mentioning the Haymarket Martyrs, which prominent Social Democrat publications like Jacobin choose to publish to further marginalize anarchist ideas. In 2016, Jacobin magazine published Luxemburg’s “What are the Origins of May Day.” In this article, Luxemburg argued that in 1856, the Australian workers call for complete work stoppages in support for the 8-hour workday influenced the American and then International development of May Day.[12] She claims that the Australians call to action was the primary source of inspiration for The International Workers Congress in 1890. While this is most likely true, she does not mention anarchists at all in her story. Not only did Luxemburg choose to ignore the impact of the Haymarket anarchists, but Jacobin’s intentional publication of her work in 2016 illustrated this same interest in erasure. Therefore, it becomes clear that both the Communists and the contemporary Social Democrats reinterpret history in order to ignore the global impact of anarchism on the working-class.

This active historical revisionism from popular Marxists is what makes May Day speeches calling for “left unity” ridiculous. Let us, for a moment, ignore the legacy of anarchist oppression from the Soviet Union to Cuba. The fact that both the Second International to contemporary Marxists willfully ignore the centrality of anarchism to organized labor and the establishment of the eight-hour workday is ahistorical. The fact that they suppress anarchist history and call for unity on the day that anarchist ancestors gave their lives for labor’s cause is bullshit. The eight-hour work day was a compromise for the abolition of waged labor. Let us not compromise our principles again by unifying with Marxists that work to undermine us at every opportunity.

[1] August Spies, “The Dies are Cast!”Arbeiter-Zeitung (May 1, 1886)

[2] August Spies, “Revenge,” Arbeiter-Zeitung (May 3, 1886)

[3] Philip Foner, “Editor’s Intro” in The Haymarket Autobiographies ed. Philip Foner (Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1969), 12.

[4] Paul Avrich, The Haymarket Tragedy (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 436.

[5] Philip Foner, May Day (New York, NY: International Publishers, 1986), 45-46.

[6] Foner, May Day, 45-46.

[7] Dave Roediger, “Mother Jones & Haymarket”, in Haymarket Scrapbook ed. Franklin Rosemont, David Roediger (Chico, CA: AK Press, 2011), 213.

[8] Paul Avrich, The Haymarket Tragedy (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984), 436.

[9] Phillip Foner, May Day, 42.

[10] William Morris, “Impressions of the Paris Congress: II,” Marxists.org (Retrieved May 4, 2022) https://www.marxists.org/archive/morris/works/1889/commonweal/08-paris-congress.html

[11] Alexander Thrachtenberg, “The History of May Day” Marxist.org (accessed May 5, 2022) https://www.marxists.org/subject/mayday/articles/tracht.html

[12] Rosa Luxemburg, “What are the Origins of May Day?” Jacobin, May 1, 2016 (Accessed May 2, 2022) https://jacobinmag.com/2016/05/may-day-rosa-luxemburg-haymarket

[sexhaver]

ive made this post multiple times before and will probably make it again but the worst part of getting medicated for ADHD is that the two main effects are:

mentally, you become God. everything is easy, easier than easy. things that were impossible unmedicated are insultingly trivial on 50mg Vyvanse XR. focus, executive function, sociability, memory - everything is cranked up to 11 and then has the knob ripped off. this isn't gradual, either; you can physically feel yourself go from a barely-conscious husk to the physical embodiment of efficiency over the course of 15 minutes while the THX noise plays nonstop and keeps ramping up the entire time.

physically, you break yourself in every way that matters. you grind your teeth to dust and develop TMJ until you forget there was a time when you didn't wake up every morning with a headache from clenching your jaw all night. you genuinely just forget to eat or drink for 6 hours at a time until your doctor-approved meth wears off and you can suddenly hear everything your body has been screaming, begging for you to do since breakfast. the comedown itself is hell incarnate, feeling like being dropped off a cliff onto spikes a mile below. this happens every afternoon for the rest of your life, and you know it's coming the whole time.

this leads to the following outcomes:

the first point is extremely visible to everyone in your life, often times even more so than it is to yourself.

not only does everyone else notice that you're suddenly acting differently, they like that version of you way more. i know this sounds like depressive thinking, but i have literally been told this exact line to my face multiple times. you become a less flaky friend to your peers and a more consistent worker to your boss/coworkers. by all externally visible measures, you become an objectively better person to be around.

the second point is invisible to everyone except you 99% of the time.

the other 1% of the time, they notice the side effects because the clock struck midnight 6pm and the carriage turned back into a pumpkin your meds suddenly wore off. as far as an external observer is concerned, you suddenly went from being bubbly and fun to hang out with to a hangry cranky drain on everyone's energy in 10 minutes flat.

living with these inescapable facts every single day for years on end naturally leads to the following conclusions:

"When I feel bad/stressed, everyone else likes me. When I feel good/relaxed, everyone else dislikes me."

"Feeling good is an indication that I am currently doing something wrong, or am forgetting to do something entirely. In either case, it means everyone else in my life dislikes me."

"Feeling bad is not just an indication that I am doing something right, it's a prerequisite. Unless I feel bad, nobody else in my life likes me."

"Nobody else cares how I feel, they never will, and anyone saying otherwise is a liar. Sure, people understand that they have to say they care about my feelings to avoid sounding like sociopaths, but the fact that those same people consistently like me better when I'm medicated and doing nice stuff for them (while screaming internally and grinding my teeth to dust) than when I'm unmedicated and relaxing proves that they're full of shit."

"Since I'm literally the only person who cares about my own happiness (see above), and everyone else on Earth is happier when I'm suffering, it's not just difficult for me to fight depression and assert my self-worth - it's actively harming everyone else around me."

eventually you learn to turn off your feelings for a while to get through especially bad patches, but the entire thought process never goes away and eventually starts impacting how you view other people. i don't have a hopeful note to end this post on.