#if i do end up making a third one of these

[asha-mage]

🌶️

The MCU's Spiderman is not a poor execution of Peter Parker's character concept. He's not even poor execution of Miles Morales's character concept.

He is a poor execution of Terry McGinnis's character concept.

Peter Parker and Miles Morales both have so many fundamental pieces to their characters that are just missing for the MCU's Spiderman. Familiar names are floating around him- Aunt May, Mary Jane, Ganke Lee- but the fundamental ideas that make up Peter or Miles arcs just are not there. Themes like Miles's family expectations, Peter's constant money struggles, and the balancing act of doing good vs trying to live your own life are all absent. Even the idea of power and responsibility isn't properly introduced until the THIRD MOVIE when that really should been the central theme from the beginning.

Rather the MCU Spiderman has way more parallels with Terry McGinnis. Both are young hot shot teenagers who end up being taken under the wing of established and experienced hero who is on their way out. Both have complex relationships with their mentor which in a lot of ways serves as the driving force of their character arcs. Both gain high tech suits which enable their heroism. Both are viewed (or at least supposed to be viewed in MCU Peter's case) as heirs to the legacy of this hero.

It falls apart when you get into how they are different. While Uncle Ben is implied to have existed and be dead by the time MCU Peter is introduced in Civil War it's never actually confirmed and never properly comes up. Meanwhile the death of Terry's father is essentially the inciting incident of Batman Beyond: it's what motivates and drives Terry and the murder and it's fallout are the main focus of the first two episodes of Batman Beyond.

What's more MCU Peter's relationship to Tony is grounded in the fact that Tony just shows up one day and essentially taps him to join the Avengers. Bruce by contrast initially tosses Terry out on his ear, and when Terry turns up seeking justice for his father Bruce can't offer him anything but 'go ask the cops for help', and when that goes exactly as poorly as Terry said it would, Terry breaks into the manor steals the Batsuit and goes to stop Powers himself. Terry has active agency in his own choice to be a hero, which helps define his relationship with Bruce and to heroism. While MCU Peter was doing his own superheroics prior to Tony showing up in Civil War (not that he ever does much of that in future movies) his relationship to Tony is defined by Peter's dependence on him and his quest for Tony(/the Avengers)'s approval. And because they don't even bother name drop Uncle Ben or flashback to him, we're left with the impression that the main thing driving MCU Peter is that quest for approval. His motivations are never more complexly explored, and we don't even really see him just running around Queens stopping muggings or car crashes or anything that hints he enjoys or feels the need to actually help people.

And I think that gets into the final and most important difference between the two. Gotham not only needs Batman, it visibly and obviously and terribly needs Batman. Batman Beyond leans into this because decades without a Batman have left Gotham a cyperbunk dystopian hellscape. The city needs someone to stand up to the darkness, to be a symbol of hope, to be aspirational. Terry taking up that mantel means fighting supervillains, yes- but mostly it means doing what the original Batman did. Solving murders, stopping muggings, rescuing people from burning buildings or fighting off street gangs like the Jokerz.

But even in the earliest MCU movies, New York only needs superheroes when the current world ending threat shows up. Otherwise the city is all bright shinny clean streets filled with haplessly content citizens. This is the only reason that Vision's position of 'Our very strength invites challenge' in Civil War makes any sense- because the only purpose of these Superheroes is usually to fight a threat they where somehow responsible for creating. And this problem hits 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman' the hardest because he only has a responsibility to use his great power to solve problems, if their are problems in need of solving. Most of Peter Parker's (and Miles Morales's, Gwen Stacy's, or any other Spiderperson's) day is not fighting alien armies or netherworld gods. It's stopping break ins, rescuing people from car crashes, or dealing with other small scale local threats, that none the less benefit from someone with his abilities to make them better. Either New York in the MCU is an ideal utopian city where the police have everything handled apparently (which ha!) or Peter is apparently not interested in stopping bad things from happening. He spends so much of the first movie basically begging Tony to give him superhero things to do, not realizing that he could go outside and find people that need help on his own.

In conclusion MCU Peter Parker isn't 'regular Peter Parker but not an underdog', or even 'Miles Morales but white'. He's 'Terry McGinnis but without any agency in his own heroism'.

[calcinator]

Really? The God of failure has already won?

Because that's what he is. A god is the patron of whatever it does the most and has the most control over, and if one looks at the text, rather than the boast, that's what o'l Jahova is, the kind of losers, the lord of failure, the master of incompetence.

Let's look at the greatest misses of o'l Nah-Way:

Makes angels without free will. A third of them still think he's such an asshole they manage to rebel. Failure.

Lets a talking snake that may or may not be his greatest enemy fuck up his terrarium. Failure.

Make humans in his image to live perfect and sinless = Skill issue.

Blames his creations for his mistakes = Failure.

Makes humans with the intent that they be sycophants and love him obsessively for it, most of us don't. Failure.

Correct this problem via flood, murdering millions of innocent children and trillions of innocent animals in the process, whoops! Problem is back the next week, another failure! I'd call him a god of genocide but he can't even do that right.

Lets demons murder Job's kids and servants just to win a bet, considers replacing them with better kids and servants is fair compensation. Failure of compassion and duty of care.

And while we're at it, his boastful "how dare you question me for being a dick" speech was a failure of its own.

"Can you pull in leviathan with a fishhook" No, but I can with a stick with a loop of rope at the end. It's a crocodile, my least impressive uncle wears boots made of its skin and we keep them as pets, zoo beasts, and food. Stripping its coat and penetrating its armor is child's play when you have technology. Its meat is one of my favorites on po'boy sandwiches. Nothing on the earth is its equal!

The behemoth does tricks for our amusement and needs our protection because its tusks are very pretty. Even at the time this was written there were real civilizations using elephants as beasts of burden and sources of meat and materials. Even then it was only a monster to backwards desert-dwelling losers who need a death penalty law to tell them not to fuck their sheep (great chosen ones you picked there Skaggs' Alpha-Omega)

Oh, and the earth has no foundations.

Despises foreskins, leaves 'em in the blueprints and requires post-manufacturing correction = failure.

"I am with you! You cannot be stopped! Ooops, iron chariots? You're on your own boys!" - (Omni)potence Failure!

"This beloved king of mine won't be a horrible tyrant with hundreds of "wives"... oh me damnit!"

Engineering of the human eye, what idiot lays the wiring for a camera OVER the lens requiring a software patch to correct? Don't get me started on the arteries of giraffes! DESIGN FAILURE!

Pick a favorite people, can't even rescue them from slavery without them turning to idolatry minutes later... f-f-FAILURE!

Also, can't liberate an enslaved people without slaughtering innocent children of people who have zero influence over their government for the actions of that government. Actions which are explicitly extended by God specifically so he can inflict horror on nameless Egyptian poor people to make a point about how powerful he is. Targeting Failure!

Speaking of slavery, it's okay when my people do it! Ethical failure!

Wrestles with a mortal, has to cheat, still loses! Sportsmanship failure.

Tyre still exists! PROPHECY FAILURE! (This literally also means that Ezekiel should not be considered a prophet, as he predicted a thing and it did not come true, so lets add another failure point here, and one for every word of his left in the book despite him clearly being false under the standards set.)

And while we're speaking of 'zeke. "How do I stop children from making fun of my boy? I know, bears!" I dunno about you, but needing to resort to bears to deal with teasing sure sounds fail-adjacent to me.

Pi is three = F--, funny how all the pagans around you knew what math was and you had to steal it.

Here's how you twist the head off a turtledove to cure leprosy. Does it work? Of course not. Medical Failure.

Verse after verse about meaningful ritual cleanliness when teaching people how to make lye soap would be three at most. FAIL.

"Making goats fuck in front of a striped pole will make striped goats!" Aren't you the patron god of a nation of shepherds? Lamarckism fail!

Establishes extensive geneology for his personal avatar to establish his bona-fides, then cuts the father through which that line extends out of the question via his rape (a barely literate carpenters' wife cannot provide meaningful consent to a God due to the power imbalance, so yes, he's a rapist) of the mother. Geneology fail.

Divinely inspires book, cannot keep the timeline of a long weekend consistent across four authors. Failure!

Sends messiah down, has to arrange second coming because no goals of the actual messiah were accomplished. FAIL.

Messiah clams his predictions will all be accomplished before his audience dies. Legends of an immortal Jew have to be invented for Jesus to not also be in the same "not a prophet" boat Ezekiel is in. Ultrafail!

Life as a perfect human task is apparently adequately fulfilled despite normal humans lacking both supernatural powers and certainty of the existence of god. You don't get to claim a spot on the leaderboard when you're literally playing with god mode on. Failure.

Sacrifices himself to himself to fulfill rules he established, still doesn't get what he wants = fail.

Having failed to fix his shitty terrarium, decides to have his new minions (though not his favorites, not his chosen, you'll never, ever be that and don't forget it, Christians, nevermind what that gnawing resentment will encourage you to do his actual favorites for the rest of history) rise to power by flirty-fishing their way up the corpse of the Roman Empire.

Claims to hate prostitution, creates a prostitute faith. Failure.

2000 years of doctrinal fracturing, schism, "holy war," feudalism, and slavery. When his church is the most in power we now call it "the dark ages." When society manages to advance his boys first fight against it, then pretend they were responsible for it and down with it from the start when they can't any longer. Failure!

Fast forward to today, we keep finding corpses under boarding schools with his name on them.

And all this, mind you, when the acceptable number of mistakes for a deity (or those saying that they are acting in his stead) is ZERO.

If its possible for human error to get worked into the divinely inspired work, then you need a method to filter one from the other. A test. You know, the thing that we're not supposed to be able to do with "god's word." And why is that?

The obvious and transparent reason is because the people that wrote the book knew they were liars. You don't put "don't check my work" in the rules if you know your work is true and solid. That's also why there's this huge focus on forgiveness and vengeance being god's to dish out.

Because they know that eventually, someone's going to be vengeful at them, when their shenanigans come to light. The priest-caste rarely doles out that mercy to others. The rubes are sinners to batter and herd and squeeze for every tithe and offering. No, forgiveness is for when the priest takes advantage of an altarboy, or a preacher is caught doing meth with a male sex worker, or Galileo's work can't be adequately suppressed.

But if you need a TL:DR, all you have to do is look at who he has in his fanclub, who he lets represent him.

Failure.

becoming a born again religious zealot in their 30s is a likely thing for a witch house forum mod to do

[formulawolff]

“you better.” — t.w.

pairing -> female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count -> idk y’all, my bad

warnings -> boss x employee dynamic, slight power imbalance, angst, cursing, gg being a little bit of a brat, toto being down bad (he would do anything for his woman, and he means it!), sexual innuendos, yadayadayada

a/n -> hiiiii it's me! i'm back with another gg x toto installment. i'm sorry if the writing is not my best, i've been a little rusty. this fic was a request idea sent to me a few weeks ago. anon, this one is for you! i hope y'all enjoy reading about them! <3

"god fucking damnit!"

blood roars in his ears as her helmet collides against the wall, forming a sizable dent. paint chips flutter to the floor, the figure inhaling a sharp breath as curses roll from her tongue, the driver pacing back and forth.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the figure's jaw clenches as her arm sweeps along the nearest table, sending items flying in her wake.

all right, that was it.

the final straw.

time to intervene.

"you need to cut it out. you're acting like a child. you of all people know tantrums get you nowhere."

at his sentiment, her head swivels, nothing but pure, fiery rage flickering about in her stare. strands of hair are plastered to her forehead, her lip curling into a sneer.

"your orders cost me two positions. it cost me a podium this weekend. i think i deserve to be a little upset about it."

"it's only the beginning of the season, love," toto wolff tuts, folding his arms across his chest, "you have time to make up for it. you have so much time to win the title."

at his statement, she pauses, her brows furrowing together. he can sense her fury dissolving by the second, her rigid muscles relaxing as her shoulders slump. silence creeps in as she crosses over to the couch, curling up in the fetal position.

to put it lightly, it was a tough opening weekend in melbourne.

not only did she have to deal with the wake of the loss to max, she had difficulty familiarizing herself with the new car. the media was in a frenzy, circling around like vultures every single time she moved or spoke. fuck, she could barely even breathe without a microphone close by.

toto couldn't imagine how draining it must have been to deal with it all. there was an instance over the weekend where a reporter inquired about their sex life. following that, there were numerous questions involving when he was going to propose, when they were planning on having kids, and if she would retire if they had children.

she executed a brilliant drive during qualifying, managing to snag the third position on the grid, just behind lando and max. if all went according to plan, she would be able to push past lando at the start of the race, and be able to battle it out with max for the victory.

at the start of the race, she drove beautifully. she was able to surge ahead and get past both max and lando, sailing into the first position.

it was going perfectly until lap twenty-three, where there was a mishap with the steering. following the error came a miscommunication with strategy. although toto knew the tires would last a few more laps, it was not his call to bring her in to the pits.

the pit crew was not quite ready, fumbling with two of the tires. it was a painfully slow stop, her radios reflecting exactly how toto felt about the fiasco.

the call for the early pit ultimately cost her three positions, which ended up crushing her hopes of a podium on opening weekend.

following the race, she exchanged some heated words with the media. something along the lines of, "fuck off or you're going to feel that boom mic up your ass." of course, that sent social media into a frenzy.

so, when she decided to release some pent up emotions in her driver's room after the race, toto let her.

he couldn't blame her, really. this weekend was an absolute shit show.

yet, he knew they had to move forward from it. the helmet could be replaced. the dent in the wall could be patched. the team strategy could be tweaked.

there was nothing he wanted more than to just wrap her up in his arms, bringing her tightly against his chest. he ached to just hold her, murmuring all of the reassurances she needed to hear. he yearned to just pepper her beautiful face with endless kisses, just to hear that melodic giggle ring in his ears.

he couldn't though.

at least, not yet.

the team principal stays put, waiting until she gives him the cue.

it wouldn’t be verbal. it would be the way her body would shift toward him, inviting him over. it would be the way her arms would droop, begging to be held.

it wouldn’t be too much longer. any minute now.

as expected, she practically sinks into the couch, pleading for some sort of comfort.

there it was, that cue he was desperately waiting for.

he strolls over, settling into the cushion next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame.

"i-i just wanted to get a head start," there's a tug at his heart as her voice falters, "i wanted to prove to everyone that i could compete with max this time. i just wanted to win a fucking race after what happened last ye-"

"my love," the team principal exhales, a tender hand connecting with her back, just between her shoulder blades, "you have to keep your head up. you are not a failure just because you didn't finish on that podium. you are not defined by what happened last season. things are different now, so much more different."

in the light, he catches the gleam of a tear as it rolls down her cheek, "i just know they're all talking about me. they want nothing more than to see me lose. i just wanted to prove them wrong."

"we have so much time do that," his voice is barely a murmur, "we will make you a champion, my sweet girl. don't worry about what they all think. focus on me. focus on us. focus on how we can correct our mistakes."

the tears are flowing now, the streams glistening as she sits up, pressing her body against his. her head nuzzles into his chest, lashes fluttering as his hand begins to roam, gently kneading into her sore muscles.

"i-i'm sorry."

the words are merely a whisper, but toto hears them.

"why are you apologizing, sweet girl?"

"for acting like a brat," she still won't meet his gaze, her eyes fixated on the door, "i shouldn't have thrown my helmet."

the team principal hums, his fingers treading along the zipper of her suit, "it's all right, love. i think you should do it again, actually."

"stop it," she huffs, rolling her eyes, "you just thought my little outburst was hot."

"quite," his mouth ghosts over her ear, "take that anger out on me, actually. you know, you're quite sexy when you're all riled up."

"maybe i will." the corners of her lips twitch, and toto can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

she was fighting a smile, and fuck, was she fighting one hard.

carefully, she swings a thigh over his lap, straddling him as the tip of her nose brushes against his, "maybe i will take my anger out on you, toto. i want you to do something first, though."

in his khakis, he feels his cock stiffen, his throat tightening as she leans in even closer, "w-what is it, my love?"

fuck, he did he loathe how much power she held over him.

she cocks her head, a hand drifting to his cheek. her thumb trails along his cheekbone, relishing the way he completely crumbles under her touch.

"i want you to inform the fia that i will not be participating in any press for the next three races. will you do that for me?”

“sweet girl, you know i can’t do that—“

“please?” he can’t help but notice the way her bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

all it would take is for her to bat those lashes once, and he would be done for.

and to his dismay, she does just that, “i just can’t handle the press right now. it’s too much and—“

“consider it done, my love. a statement will be out by the morning.”

“good boy,” she purrs, pressing her forehead against his, “you’re the best.”

“anything you want or need, it will be handled. i can promise you that. i will do everything in my power to make sure that you become champion.”

her lips press against his, a shiver running down his spine as she smirks, rolling her hips. it takes everything in his power to stifle a groan as her fingers delve into the waistband of his khakis, his cock throbbing.

she has him right where she wants him, but he doesn’t mind.

not. at. all.

she was his princess, after all.

and what his princess wanted, she got.

it only takes four words for him to come undone, any coherent thoughts slipping from his mind as her hand wraps around his shaft, his breaths coming out in pants.

“you better, toto wolff.”

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 7

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 10.7k

c/w - language, substance use, smut

a/n - took me five days but here’s your long chapter!! i really hope this lives up to your expectations! as always lmk how u feel and live react plsss!!! (also, this is completely unedited and i wrote parts while high. as usual. i will come back to edit later 🙂‍↕️)

There are a lot of things you can learn about somebody in ten years. There are the basics, of course: Their favorite color, and whether it changes every few weeks. Their middle name, and whether they like it. Their childhood stuffed animal, and whether they keep it hidden in a closet.

Then, as you go from knowing each other for one month to one year, and one year to five, you learn other things. You learn about their relationship with intimacy. You learn about why they occasionally stare into space for minutes on end, mind somewhere far away even though they make such an effort to stay close to you. You learn how to ask the right questions in order to crack their shell just enough that they open up to you without breaking.

Azzi knows Paige like she’s a fact—solid, unchallengeable, honest.

But this morning, she doesn’t understand a single thing about her. And that’s not for lack of trying.

After their perfect day turned weird yesterday, Azzi had woken up on high alert. She’s so used to Paige being an open book that it makes her endlessly uneasy when she does strange, mysterious things like creating an ocean between them while they’re sleeping in the same bed.

Naturally, being hopelessly in love with Paige has gotten Azzi used to watching her. Analyzing her. Prodding her and testing her reactions.

So when they first woke up, she watched: Paige, naturally, was still sleeping. She had subconsciously moved toward Azzi in her sleep, but not by much. Her lips were pink and slightly parted, cheeks flushed with sleep, back rising and falling softly. The bedroom window was open in an attempt to fight off the summer heat, and birds were singing outside, waking with the sun—which rose in gentle orange and pink hues, shining through the sheer curtains, painting Paige’s skin and hair pastel. In that moment, Azzi really couldn’t blame herself for falling in love with her.

After Paige woke up, while they methodically went about their morning routines, she analyzed: the first thing she noticed was the silence; unusual, unsettling, and oh-so loud. Paige was never a morning person but she was a chatterbox through and through—she’d always wake up talking Azzi’s ear off about nonsense, and she’d do it drowsily, but she’d do it nonetheless.

The second thing she noticed was the way Paige refused to look her in the eye. Not even once, not even for a second. There was no sleepy smile when she woke up to find Azzi next to her, no silly faces while the two of them got dressed, no lidded, sleepy eye contact through the mirror while they brushed their teeth side-by-side.

And the third thing: Paige wouldn’t touch her. Not to brush against the small of her back while she moved past her into the bathroom. Not to pull her hair back for her as she did her makeup. Not even to fix her blouse when she mistakenly buttoned it wrong.

Now, the two of them are in the kitchen, alone—Paige’s siblings are still sleeping and her parents are both back at work, which is a blessing, honestly.

It’s time for Azzi to prod.

“Paige,” she says casually, the first thing they’ve said to each other all morning, “can you make me some coffee?”

Paige looks up from where she’d been on her phone, expression almost surprised at having been addressed. She looks as if she’s about to point to herself and say, “Who, me?”

Instead, she glances suspiciously between the coffee machine and where Azzi leans against the counter not four feet away from it. Azzi almost dares her to challenge her, to say something snarky like ‘Why don’t you get your own damn coffee?’

Paige may be acting weird, but Paige is Paige. And things may be changing in ways neither of them wants it to change but she would still do anything for Azzi. So, without a word, she gets up from her barstool and heads to the Keurig, sauntering all cool and level-headed like she’s not acting odd as hell right now.

It’s a little disappointing that Paige still hasn’t spoke, but not surprising. Sometimes she needs some extra help.

“So…” Azzi trails, waiting for Paige’s eyebrow raise and ‘So, what?’ back. It doesn’t come. Paige stares intensely at the coffee machine.

“How’d you sleep?” Azzi finally asks.

Paige starts rifling through the cabinets for a mug while the coffee starts up. Azzi can barely hear it when she says, “Alright,” but it still counts because it’s something. Two whole syllables.

“Any dreams?”

Is she imagining it? Or does Paige stiffen up at that?

No, she’s definitely not imagining it. Because when Paige turns to finally look at her—for the first time this morning, mind you—her eyes are wide and—is that a flush creeping over her cheeks? “Why you askin’ about my dreams? Did I sleep talk or sum’?”

Puzzled, Azzi blinks at her best friend, wondering why idle small talk would get such a reaction out of her. “Um, no? Just asking.”

Paige narrows her eyes at her, but when Azzi just stares back at her, perplexed, she relaxes and turns away. “Oh. Aight.”

“Well, I had a dream,” Azzi says. “We were characters in South Park.”

On any normal day, this would’ve had Paige interested and on the edge of her seat like that. But today, Paige just hums, kneeling down to pull sugar and vanilla syrup from a drawer.

“And you sounded like Eric and I sounded like Stan.”

Paige straightens up, heading to the fridge. “They sound the same to me.”

Azzi glares holes into the back of her best friend’s head. “And we were playing basketball. But we were all short and stuff, so the ball was, like, as big as we were. I still got a ton of shots on you, obviously.”

Paige turns around with cream in her hand, Azzi flashes a dazzling smile, dimples and all. Paige barely even glances her way.

She’s not even going to argue with that? She’s not going to laugh at the sheer stupidity of that silly dream? She’s not going to fondly roll her eyes at Azzi’s grin?

Azzi’s starting to think something more sinister is going on here. Maybe alien abduction.

“P?” she asks, almost meekly, a last-ditch effort.

Paige merely hums, beginning to make Azzi’s coffee exactly the way she likes it, and that warms her a little bit.

“Hey,” she says, stepping closer, leaning against the counter beside Paige. “You good?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies. But her voice is…shaky. Not quite like herself.

Beginning to get a little concerned now—not just for the entire trajectory of their relationship but for her—Azzi lays a hand on her shoulder, gently so as not to spook her, almost like she’s a timid dog. “You sure?”

Azzi studies Paige’s face carefully. She’s gone pale, except for the blush on her cheeks, which is now brilliantly (and adorably) pink.

Paige nods, but Azzi doesn’t buy that one bit, and now she’s wondering whether this is really about yesterday like she’d originally thought. Maybe this whole time she’s been so self-centered to think it was about her. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with her at all.

The thought is so relieving it nearly makes her knees buckle.

Almost gleefully, Azzi reaches up to touch Paige’s forehead, and then her cheeks. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”

“Azzi, I’m fine,” Paige insists, and she sounds so defensive that it has the opposite effect.

Sure of herself now, Azzi wraps her hands around the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her down so her best friend’s forehead is to her cheek—something Katie always did to her and her brothers when they were little. “I dunno, P. You feel kinda warm to me.”

“Shit,” Paige hisses, suddenly yanking herself from Azzi’s grasp, staring down at her hands. Azzi follows her gaze to find Paige has spilled a good amount of cream over the counter.

“Hey, it’s okay—“ Azzi begins, reaching for the roll of paper towels, but Paige holds up a hand to stop her.

“Azzi. For real. Just…listen, I need a sec, okay?” she’s still all wobbly, and her hands are shaking as she brings them up to rub at her jaw, eyes closed.

Surprised, Azzi rears back a few steps, putting distance between them. “P, what…?

“I’m fine,” Paige says, but it sounds like she’s on the verge of tears as she cups her own face with her palms and it goes against every instinct Azzi has but she begins to back away. Slowly, like she’s waiting for Paige to change her mind, for her to reach for Azzi and fall into her arms and tell her what the fuck is going on right now.

She doesn’t. And Azzi can only mutter, “I’ll be in the room,” before she’s out the kitchen, heading up the stairs and clutching at her stomach like she can somehow stop the anxiety boiling deep inside.

————————————————

An hour later, Paige is walking through the bedroom door with a jovial smile on her face.

Azzi startles when her best friend walks into the room, preparing to deal with this mood that seems to have overtaken her, and her jaw very nearly drops when she sees the expression on Paige’s face.

“Hey,” Paige says when she spots Azzi (who has been curled on the bed for the past hour, trying to stave off these new existential crises). “Watcha up to?”

Azzi doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even sit up. She just stares at this scarily bipolar form which has somehow taken the shape of her best friend.

“It’s too hot to be out today,” Paige goes on without waiting for an answer. She kneels down to rifle around in her suitcase. “So I was thinking the movies? Just me and you?”

And then she starts humming. Like, actually humming to herself.

Azzi has absolutely no idea how to approach this situation. She’s almost afraid to even move, as if Paige were a motion-activated bomb—because that’s kind of what it feels like right now.

“Yo,” Paige says at Azzi’s continued silence, standing up with a pair of shoes in hand. “You wanna go or not?”

Azzi wishes she could bask in it—the sudden normalcy, the way Paige is talking to her and looking her in the eye and no longer seeming on the brink of passing out. But it’s such a stark difference from this morning that all Azzi can do is wonder what happened in the past hour to cause such a severe change.

“Azzi,” Paige urges, and for some reason that’s what gets Azzi moving.

She sits up straight, staring Paige dead in the eye when she asks, “What is up with you?”

Paige doesn’t get defensive, and that tells her everything she needs to know. “Nothin’. Just wanna go watch a movie.”

Azzi doesn’t return her friend’s charming smile. “Don’t play, Paige.”

Paige has the audacity to look confused. “Huh?”

If she’s going to play dumb, that leaves Azzi no choice but to be direct. “I’m just wondering why you were acting bitchy to me all morning and now you’re walking in here, acting like nothing happened?”

“Oh, that,” Paige replies, but there’s nothing convincing about her clueless act. It’s obvious in the way she averts her eyes, crosses her arms. “I just didn’t feel good, like you said. But I took some medicine, so we’re up.”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi replies.

“Yeah.”

“So, you didn’t feel good. That’s it.”

“Yep,” Paige replies cheerfully, kneeling down to start putting her shoes on.

“And that’s why you couldn’t touch me, or talk to me. Or even, like, look at me.”

Paige stares down at her feet, fiddling with the laces, tying them slowly to put off the inevitable moment she’ll have to stand back up again. “I dunno. Didn’t notice I was doing that.”

“Paige,” Azzi says, and Paige must sense that she’s really serious now because she looks up, watching her swing her legs over the edge of the bed. “Please, just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Paige replies simply, standing with one shoe untied to sit by Azzi on the bed.

Her detachment, her false answers and carelessness, are so frustrating it almost makes Azzi want to cry. “If you’re mad at me about—what I said yesterday, at the lake, then just tell me. I don’t want things to be weird between us just because we’re not talking—“

“Whoa, hey, slow down,” Paige says, and the hand she places on Azzi’s knee is so comforting she really could cry at this point. “I’m not mad at you. Did you think that this whole time?”

“Obviously.” Azzi widens her eyes at her emphatically. “What else was I supposed to think, when you were acting all weird towards me?”

Paige frowns at that, looking genuinely troubled at the notion of Azzi’s internal conflict. “I’m not mad at you, ma, for real. I just—“ she sighs, taking her hand off Azzi’s knee to run over her face. “I couldn’t really sleep last night, my mind was going like a hundred miles per minute for some reason.”

“About what?” Azzi asks.

There’s that same reaction from earlier—the stiffness and the blush. Like she’s embarrassed, or maybe even guilty?

Seriously, what is that about?

“Oh, nothing,” Paige replies airily, waving her off despite her mildly visceral reaction to the question. “Just a buncha stuff. And then, well…” she trails off, glancing at Azzi to see if she’ll be able to get away with it. She’s met with a stern glare that clearly says don’t you dare close up on me again, and sighs before continuing. “I’ll be real, I did have some dreams last night, once I finally fell asleep. And they were—they kept waking me up, but every time I fell back asleep they’d just come back again.”

“Like, scary dreams?” Azzi asks, brows furrowed. Paige has occasionally had nightmares while they were together, but they always have her jerking around or talking in her sleep so much that it wakes Azzi, who will wake her best friend and speak softly to her of good, happy things in order to lull her back to sleep. It’s never affected Paige so badly that she was a completely different person when she woke up.

Azzi watches Paige’s throat bob as she swallows thickly before saying, “Something like that.”

Azzi doesn’t reply. She doesn’t really know how to—doesn’t know where she stands right now, in this weird, unfamiliar territory they’ve stepped into.

Paige speaks for her, never good with lingering silences. “Hey, uh, a few of my cousins up here—they’re around our age, and they’re gonna be throwing this big party tomorrow. They invited us to go.”

Azzi hesitates. “They invited both of us?”

“They wanna meet you. Since you’re my…”

“Girlfriend,” Azzi finishes.

Paige nods slowly. “Right.”

“And you really wanna go? With me?” Azzi asks.

Paige scoots a little closer, lays her hand palm-up on Azzi’s leg. When Azzi takes it, instinctually, it’s like finding her footing again. “Don’t wanna go anywhere without you.”

One of these days, Azzi will learn her lesson. One of these days, she’ll straighten her spine and figure out how to tell Paige no, how to say what she really wants to say.

Today, though, is just like any other. That is to say, Azzi falls for pretty blue eyes and prettier words, and says what she knows Paige wants to hear: “Okay. Why not?”

Paige grins at her, and Azzi almost forgets this whole strange morning, their little argument yesterday, the kiss that preceded it.

Key word: Almost.

Because there’s this sinking feeling in her stomach that won’t quite let her forget.

————————————————

Getting ready for this party is turning out to be absolute hell.

“Azzi, just get ready at the hotel.”

“No, Paige.”

Paige sighs dramatically. While Azzi has spent the past thirty minutes stressing, carefully picking an outfit that will be cute, reasonable for the weather, and won’t wrinkle during the two-hour car ride to the next town over, Paige has been sitting peacefully on the bed, making unhelpful comments and showing Azzi TikToks every two minutes.

“At least do your makeup there. It’ll sweat off during the car ride.”

“I have a good setting spray.”

“Azziii, for real, I wanna get on the road,” Paige says, practically whining at this point.

Sighing, Azzi shakes her head, knowing she’s going to lose this argument no matter what. “Okay, fine. But still—my outfit.”

Paige, apparently finally deciding to be helpful, rolls off the bed and sits beside Azzi by her suitcase. “You got so many outfits to choose from.”

“None of them are working.”

“Just wear basketball shorts like me.”

Unfortunately, Azzi isn’t sure she’s masc enough to get away with basketball shorts, a sports bra, and an oversized button-up quite like Paige can. But Paige wouldn’t understand that.

“What about these jeans?” Azzi asks instead of answering Paige’s suggestion.

“Nah,” Paige says, “it’s s’posed to be hot tonight. Wear shorts.”

“Okay…” digging around, Azzi finds a little pair of shorts she isn’t really sure why she brought—she could never wear them around Paige’s family. With all the rips in the front, and the way it hugs her ass, it’s not exactly family-friendly. But for a party…

Spotting the way Azzi’s hand is lingering over the shorts, Paige grabs them up and holds them in front of her. She appraises them for a moment before putting them in Azzi’s lap. “These.”

“You think?” Azzi hesitates.

“Yup,” Paige replies simply. “Think they’re cute. And you won’t overheat.”

With some more help from Paige, Azzi finally ends up in an outfit that the two of them have deemed suitable for the occasion.

(“Are you sure it’s not too…slutty?” Azzi had asked, looking at herself in the mirror—Paige came up behind her and brushed her hands over her waist and said, “Nah, looks perfect on you,” and Azzi’s decision was made.)

Now, an hour later, only halfway through their mini road trip, Azzi highly regrets the tiny shorts and tinier top.

From the driver’s seat, Paige side-eyes her and smirks when she sees her wriggling around for the millionth time, trying to get comfortable. “You all good?”

“These are up my butt,” Azzi complains, pulling at the hem of her shorts.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Paige!” Azzi’s top begins to slip and she yanks it up, frustrated. “This is uncomfortable.”

“I told you to get ready at the hotel.”

Azzi should’ve been prepared for the I told you so, but it still makes her mad and she crosses her arms, staring out the window with what she’s sure is a mean pout.

Paige reaches over to tug on one of Azzi’s braids. “You sulking over there?”

“No,” Azzi replies, even though she very much is.

There’s a moment of silence, and Azzi is beginning to think Paige is done with the conversation before she says, “Why don’t you just take ‘em off?”

Azzi can’t help but laugh a little at that. “You wish.”

“I’m serious,” Paige replies, and with a quick glance at her side-profile Azzi realizes she’s telling the truth.

“You really want me to strip in your car?” Azzi teases, and before, this is something Paige would’ve laughed at before playfully flirting back. But now, Paige’s eyes widen and dart over to her, and Azzi is maybe not completely teasing.

“Chill,” Paige replies simply, voice betraying nothing even though the blush on her cheeks says otherwise. “Just don’t wanna hear you complaining for the rest of the drive.”

Of course, Azzi is not going to take off her shorts. Things between her and Paige are already weird and, not to mention, she’s wearing a thong. It would be crazy. It would be inappropriate.

But these shorts are really tight. And they still have an hour to go. And maybe Paige would give her The Look, the one Azzi hates and doesn’t understand but is also coming to associate with those charged moments between them, the moments where things shift and change and it seems as if any minute one of them is going to surge forward and—

Slowly, Azzi reaches across herself, and unbuckles her seatbelt.

Paige’s breath hitches. “Watcha doing?”

Azzi hums, and her fingers move to her own stomach, letting them trail down playfully to the button of her jeans, watching Paige’s eyes go from her to the road and back. “Just taking your advice.”

“Oh,” Paige says.

Azzi pulls the zipper down.

The two of them have seen each other in various states of undress countless times before—last year, Paige even got so drunk that Azzi had to help her out of her clothes completely and into the shower. But Paige was laughing and rambling and tripping everywhere and Azzi’s sole focus was on making sure she didn’t slip and crack her head open on the shower tiles.

Azzi’s never given herself the opportunity to look the way she really wants to. And she’s been operating under the fact that she would never be looked at the way she wants to be, either.

But now, as she lifts her hips off the seat and wriggles out of these tight little shorts, Paige is looking. She’s looking so hard they might crash.

The shorts slide down her leg, dangle around one of her ankles. Azzi lifts her foot and delicately plucks it off. Tosses it into the backseat.

Paige’s hand twitches on the center console. Fingers splaying wide open like they need something to do.

Azzi has spent practically her whole life giving Paige whatever she wants, because that’s what you do when you’re in love with somebody, isn’t it? And so there’s really no thought to it when she takes Paige’s hand. Nothing tentative in the way she lifts their joint hands, pulls them into her lap. No hesitation when she presses Paige’s hand into her bare thigh.

Paige is staring firmly ahead now. The hand still on the wheel is fisted tight, knuckles bloodless. And when she mutters Azzi’s name, it’s quiet but unmistakable.

For the first time, knowing that Paige can see her in her peripheral vision, Azzi lets herself look. Lets herself study the flutter of her lashes, the slope of her nose, the pink of her lips. Her sharp jawline, her furrowed brows, her neck and collarbones. And then her eyes travel back up to Paige’s, admiring the blue shamelessly as she whispers, “You can touch me, Paige.”

Paige’s throat bobs. Her fingers twitch. And then, slowly but surely, they dance over Azzi’s skin. Azzi gasps softly when they brush the inside of her thigh, and that seems to encourage Paige because then her hand is traveling higher up, up to wear her shorts would’ve been covering, tips of her fingers getting so fucking close to where Azzi has wanted her for so long.

And then she stops. Straightens her shoulders and focuses more sternly on the road, but her hand stays firmly put before it squeezes just a little bit.

Azzi’s eyes flutter shut.

They may or may not spend the rest of the car ride just like that.

————————————————

Even before they step inside, Azzi can already tell how bumping this party is. Loud music blasts from behind the front door, and flashing LED lights shine through the curtains on the windows. For the first time, Azzi gets a little nervous—with parties, Paige usually finds some random people to branch off with while Azzi hangs out with whatever team members came with them. Now, with just the two of them, Azzi worries about being left in a corner with a red solo cup and a headache. The thought makes her turn to Paige.

Paige, mid-reach for the doorknob, pauses when she clocks Azzi’s anxious expression. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just—“ Azzi sighs, then clutches onto Paige’s arm, glancing nervously toward the front door and the party that lurks within. “Don’t leave me tonight, okay?”

Paige smiles softly, and Azzi thinks briefly that friends don’t look at each other this way. “I won’t, ma. Promise.”

And Azzi believes her.

When they finally get inside, Azzj counts on them being able to slip in unnoticed, considering how many people must be crammed into this house. But, to her surprise, they’ve barely even shut the door behind them before the foyer—and the open living room beyond—absolutely erupts. People were laughing and talking and singing before, but now there’s straight-up screaming as young adults crowd around the two of them, whooping and hollering and saying things like “Lil Paigey in da house!”

Paige laughs, waving people off as she reunites with old friends, and the crowd seems to be trying to separate them but Paige wraps her arms firmly around Azzi’s waist and doesn’t let go.

After a minute, the crowd calms down, letting Paige’s cousins come up and give her hugs, the three girls squealing (Azzi doesn’t think she’s ever seen Paige squeal before) as they gush about how much they missed each other and how good they look and Azzi almost misses it when one of them says, “Oh my god, hi! Cousin-in-law!” before she’s the one being attacked with hugs.

“I’m so happy we finally get to meet you!” One of them—Avery, Azzi thinks—says quite loudly in her ear.

The other one—Lauren—squeezes her so hard she almost lifts her off the ground. “You’re so pretty! Look at her, holy shit, you’re so pretty!”

After the initial shock, Azzi can’t help but laugh, the excitement from these two girls nothing if not contagious.

After a few seconds, Paige pulls them off her, gathering her right back into her side once she’s free. “Chill on her, we just got here!”

Standing beside Paige, and in front of these two girls, all three of which have matching smiles, blue eyes, and blonde hair, it’s sort of like seeing triple.

“Sorry, we’re just—we’ve been so excited to meet you,” Avery says, cheeks flushed as she grins warmly at her.

Lauren nods in agreement. “P has been gatekeeping you, for real!”

Azzi grins quizzically up at Paige, who shakes her head, thumb rubbing over Azzi’s waist. “Nah, y’all have her social media. I just didn’t wanna share my pictures of her.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, slapping Paige’s stomach with the back of her hand before turning to her cousins. “It’s really good to meet y’all, too.”

The two girls beam at her before reaching for her, each of them taking a hand and tugging.

Paige holds fast to her waist. “Hey, where y’all tryna take her?”

“Relax, we need to give her a grand tour!” Avery says. Azzi wouldn’t mind leaving Paige’s side just as long as she’s with these two girls, but Paige seems to have other opinions about it, if the way she’s relentlessly holding onto her says anything.

“I can come with you,” Paige protests.

“No, P, how are we gonna tell her your embarrassing stories if you’re around?” Lauren jokes, dramatically rolling her eyes.

Paige holds on even tighter at this, and Azzi sort of feels like a rope in a game of tug o’ war. “No way!”

“Paigeee,” Avery whines.

“Yo, for real, gimme my girlfriend back.”

Azzi nudges Paige with her elbow. “I’m good, P.”

Paige looks down at her incredulously. “What happened to, ‘Paige, don’t leave me, I’m sooo nervous’?” Paige asks, all whiny and flirty as she mocks her.

Azzi frowns. “That’s not how I sound!”

Finally, in her moment of distraction, Avery and Lauren manage to wrench Azzi out of Paige’s iron grip. “We’ll take good care of her, Paigey,” Avery assures, slinging her arm around Azzi’s shoulder. “Don’t even worry.”

Paige glares at the two of them, arm outstretched like she’s hoping Azzi will fall right into her, and she can’t lie, she’s more than tempted to.

But she also wants to hear those embarrassing stories her cousins were talking about.

“Go make her a drink or something,” Lauren calls over her shoulder as they whisk her away. “We’ll bring her back soon!”

Azzi sends a sheepish smile and wave her way, giggling when Paige flips her off. Maybe this night will be fun, after all.

————————————————

The tour only lasts around fifteen minutes, but by the time they’re finished, Azzi is missing Paige desperately. She thinks they may be getting a little too attached, but then, haven’t they always been?

When she finally spots Paige, man-spreading on a couch holding two cups, the relief only lasts for a second because then she notices that she is sitting next to a very pretty girl. A very pretty girl with dark skin and dark hair and a gold, glinting nose ring and a laugh that tinkles all the way across the room, even over the raucous noise.

“Oh, boy, look who found Paige,” Lauren grumbles beside Azzi.

Azzi looks over at her. “Who is that?”

“That’s Amariah,” Avery replies. “She grew up in Paige’s neighborhood.”

Amariah. The name rings a bell somewhere far back in Azzi’s memory.

“She’s had a huge crush on Paige for, like, ever,” Lauren goes on.

“And then, when Paige came up during Spring break in junior year, there was this party and they hooked up,” Avery says, and that’s when it clicks.

Amariah, of course. Azzi remembers the call she’d gotten that night, the way Paige’s cheeks were bright red as she told Azzi the whole story of how she’d slept with some random girl at a party. More than anything, Azzi remembers the jealousy, hot and heavy, that had burned in her stomach, and she remembers the way she’d ended the call early only to get no sleep that night—thinking of Paige with another girl.

“Is that so,” Azzi replies.

“Uh-huh,” Avery says. “I’d go get my girl if I were you.”

That’s exactly what she does.

Smiling gratefully at the two girls, Azzi begins making her way through the crowd, marching to the other end of the living room. Paige doesn’t even notice her walking their way, apparently too engrossed in whatever amazing thing Amariah has to talk about. It’s only when she’s a couple feet away that Paige looks up and sees her, and the way she beams almost makes up for everything. Almost.

“Hey, Az,” Paige says when she gets close enough to hear. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Azzi replies, unable to keep from smiling back at her best friend. “That my drink?”

“Uh-huh. Been waiting for you.” Paige hands Azzi’s drink to her, then pats her lap, and it takes Azzi a moment to realize that Paige wants her to sit there. Her body starts moving before her mind can catch up, sitting herself sideways on Paige’s lap, skin heating up when Paige’s arm finds its place around her waist. “My cousins bother you?”

Azzi shakes her head, wrapping an arm around Paige’s neck and looking down at her. Their faces are close, noses practically touching, and she can see every detail of Paige’s features, the makeup gracing her eyes and lips and cheeks. Azzi wants so badly to kiss her, and Paige looks like she might be leaning in…

A cough. Loud and intrusive, and it’s not even really a cough—it’s an “Ahem.”

Paige, apparently remembering herself, tears her eyes away from Azzi’s to look over at Amariah. “Oh, my bad, I forgot y’all have never met.”

“We haven’t,” Amariah says, not so much smiling as she is baring her teeth. “Who’s this, Paigey?”

“I’m Azzi,” she says before Paige can introduce her.

“You play at UConn, too, right?” Amariah asks, and Paige and Azzi both nod. “Didn’t know you were comin’ up with P this summer.”

It’s likely been at least a year since Paige saw this girl, and yet she’s calling her Paigey and P like they’re best friends. It makes her tug on Paige’s neck, pulling her head closer almost protectively.

“Couldn’t leave her,” Paige says, and this time, when Azzi looks down at her, Paige does kiss her. Just a peck on the lips, but it makes Azzi take two large swigs from what tastes like the straight vodka in her cup. “Right, baby?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums around the alcohol in her mouth.

“Cool,” Amariah says in a tone that implies she deems nothing cool about this. And even with Azzi so obviously laying her claim, and Paige so obviously all dopey for her, she still has the audacity to scoot a little closer, brushing her hand flirtatiously against Paige’s shoulder. “So, where were we? You were about to tell me that story, from school?”

“Oh, uh,” Paige gives Azzi one last long look before turning back to Amariah, “yeah. Yeah, sorry, lemme try to remember…”

She knows it’s silly, but Azzi is furious. At Amariah, for thinking she has even the slightest chance with Paige, and at Paige, for talking to this girl when she has Azzi literally in her lap.

Azzi finishes off the vodka in her cup, letting it burn her throat and warm her belly. And then, instead of asking Paige to set it on the side table for her, she shifts, swinging her leg over Paige’s and sitting up on her knees so that she’s straddling her, and she only catches Paige’s shocked expression before she’s leaning over and setting her cup down.

“You finished with that, babe?” she asks Paige, and Paige nods wordlessly, handing Azzi her empty cup. When Azzi leans over again, she knows her tits are fully in Paige’s face.

With both their hands free, Azzi settles back down, sitting fully on Paige, arms around her shoulders. Paige smiles a little wide-eyed up at her, hands resting low on her hips. But then she turns right back to Amariah and continues her story.

What the hell?

Azzi watches Paige’s side profile as she speaks, looking at her just like she looked at her in the car earlier—and the thought of the car, the heat between Azzi’s legs and Paige’s fingers so close to her, possesses her to lean forward and press her lips to Paige’s cheek.

Paige doesn’t respond, doesn’t even falter in her story-telling, but her thumbs start rubbing circles on Azzi’s hips.

So, Azzi kisses her again. And again higher on her cheekbone, then to the spot beside her ear, and now she’s sort of just trailing slow, sensual kisses across Paige’s jawline, completely unsure how she got here but not about to stop anytime soon.

Paige’s hands slide to the small of her back, clasping behind her like she’s holding her in place. Azzi moves Paige’s hair—which is down, and Azzi loves when Paige wears her hair down—out of the way before placing a tentative, soft kiss on her neck.

Finally, Paige falters. Just a little, probably not even noticeable to Amariah—who is glaring daggers into the side of Azzi’s head, where she’s buried in Paige’s neck.

Gaining confidence from the way Paige’s hands begin rubbing her back, Azzi trails a hot path down the column of her throat and back up, practically licking her way up to Paige’s earlobe before she sucks on it, letting out the quietest, breathiest moan into Paige’s ear.

Paige gasps, but she doesn’t stop telling her stupid fucking story.

Her hands, however, find their way to Azzi’s ass.

Pleased with herself, Azzi takes Paige’s button-up and pushes it off her left shoulder, giving her so much access. She’s on a roll now, and Paige’s hands on her ass feel so good, voice lulling so nicely in her ears even though it’s another girl she’s talking to.

It’s practically feverish, the way she latches onto Paige’s shoulder. Scrapes her teeth against it, bites it, and then sucks. Hard.

Paige stiffens, squeezes her ass.

Azzi doesn’t pull away for what must be an entire minute. And when she does, she opens her eyes, studies the bright-red mark like she’s an artist and this is the best piece of her life. She knows that’ll be purple by tomorrow, and she’s too tipsy to care.

She goes back in and soothes her tongue over the spot, tasting the salt and perfume on Paige’s skin—god, how long has she wanted to taste Paige, just like this? Since she was fourteen? And now she’s finally doing it, and maybe she should suck another hickey into her neck, just for good measure, just to show this bitch Amariah who Paige really belongs to—

“Az,” Paige says into her ear.

Azzi shoots up, and her voice is raspy when she says, “Yeah?”

It’s then that she takes note of how flushed Paige is, how her chest is heaving with each breath she takes. She looks so good like this. Azzi can’t help but lean forward, nuzzling their noses together.

“Hey,” Paige says softly, squeezing her ass which does horrible things to her mind, “why don’t you get us another drink, mama?”

Azzi pouts at her. She does not want to leave this lap.

“I know,” Paige says even though she didn’t even say anything. “I just…” she leans forward until her mouth is beside Azzi’s ear, “can’t hold it together like this. I need a sec, okay?”

And that knowledge—that she has an affect on Paige—turns her mood right around. “Okay, okay.” Reluctantly, she slides off Paige’s lap, straightening out her shorts. “I’ll be right back.” And, somewhat smugly, she looks at Amariah, who is practically fuming at this point. “You want anything?”

“Nah,” Amariah says through gritted teeth. “I’m all good.”

“‘Kay,” Azzi says happily.

She’s not sure, but she swears she hears Paige say, “Thanks, baby,” on her way out.

Fire spreads low in her belly.

————————————————

Later, they find themselves on the floor, all over each other while a couple other girls sit with them. They’re using the drinks they’ve had as an excuse to be practically in each other’s laps, flirting and giggling like nobody’s business—even if they’re kind of making it everybody else’s business with how many people have clocked them tonight.

“Can y’all stop mating for a couple seconds?” Avery asks good-naturedly, elbowing Azzi.

Reluctantly, the two of them pull away from each other, but Paige’s arm stays slung around Azzi’s hips.

“Okay, y’all know what I wanna do?” says one of the girls. There’s only about five of them, all circled up and pressed together on the living room floor. “I wanna play truth or drink.”

“Fun!” Lauren says. “We should do it.”

“Okay, Paige.” This is another girl—Paige introduced them earlier but Azzi doesn’t remember her name. “What’s your body count?”

Paige glances over at Azzi, then uses her free hand to take a drink from the malibu they’ve been sharing.

“You keeping secrets from me?” Azzi teases, not nearly as bothered by this as she would be if she were sober.

Paige purses her lips, moving her head from side to side. “There mighta been a few girls I never told you about.”

Azzi gasps, even though she can’t really bring herself to care about other girls—not when Paige is all over her like this. “You gotta tell me later!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige replies, cheeky little smile and all. Azzi wants so badly to kiss her.

“Love to see Paige isn’t in her hoe era anymore.” The last girl—Azzi actually remembers this one’s name, it’s Riley—laughs.

“It’s about time she wifed Azzi,” Lauren says. “With how damn much she talks about her.”

All the girls nod, and the one whose name Azzi can’t remember says, “Can we blame her, though? Look at her.”

And then they’re all turning to Azzi, cooing and giggling about how pretty she is and about how ‘if Paige didn’t lock you down I would’ve.’

Paige pulls Azzi into her side. “This one’s mine, y’all can get your own!”

Everybody laughs and the game continues. A couple rounds down, when everybody has gotten a chance to both spill secrets and drink a little bit, Azzi gets asked the most personal question thus far, from Avery: “Out of all the people you’ve slept with, who gave the best head?”

Everybody giggles and Azzi is tipsy and not in her right mind so, instead of making something up, she tells the truth, which is, “I’ve actually never gotten head before.”

Everybody stops laughing, looking at her like their jaws might hit the floor. And then Paige is staring at her wide-eyed and she remembers, they’re dating, and she knows enough to know that Paige is an eater, and if the two of them were actually together she’d probably be getting head, like, three times a day.

So she covers it up with a laugh, waving them all off. “I’m kidding. I think you all know the answer to that,” she says, wishing more than anything she were telling the truth.

Paige kisses her cheek. But as somebody else gets asked a question, she’s still got her brows furrowed in Azzi’s direction, and Azzi wonders what she’s thinking so hard about.

For some unknown reason, she can’t wait to get to the hotel tonight.

—————————————————

The two of them don’t actually leave the party until close to one in the morning. They get far too caught up in beer pong, in dancing—in each other.

When they finally get to the hotel, they’re drunk, but not wasted. Thanks to Avery for making them have a glass of water in between each drink.

Of course, Azzi would rather not be wasted. It’s no fun. She loves this light, swaying feeling that comes with being the right amount of drunk.

But with the way Paige has been looking at her all night, she needs to be more inebriated.

It’s only a couple minutes since they arrived at their hotel room and Paige seems to be thinking the same thing. After she takes off her shoes, she flops face-first onto the bed and says, “Wanna be more drunk right now.”

Azzi giggles, walking towards her best friend and sitting cross-legged next to her. “Me too.”

Paige lifts her head. “Think they have champagne in here or sum?”

Azzi shakes her head.

Paige sits up and makes to get off the bed. “Nah, I’m sure they do—“

Azzi grabs Paige’s wrist. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, pulling Paige to sit beside her. “I just mean…we don’t need to drink more.”

Paige sighs dramatically. “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right.”

“No, silly.” Azzi giggles again. She is so in love with Paige. “I mean…” she reaches into her pocket. And then she pulls out the joint Lauren gifted her earlier. Pre-rolled and everything.

Paige’s eyes light up. “Did you…” she laughs, “steal that?”

“No!” Azzi replies, whacking Paige on the arm. “Nah, your cousin gave it to me. She’s so sweet, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige says, rolling off the bed and rummaging through her overnight bag.

Azzi lays back against the sheets. “Paigey?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re you doing down there?”

“Nothin’, mama, just tryna find—yes!” Paige stands and Azzi leans up on her elbows to watch her crawl into bed. She’s holding something square and bright pink in one hand as she crawls rather seductively toward Azzi. “Lighter,” she explains when she gets close.

Azzi smiles widely, excitement bubbling in her belly.

“Hold it up,” Paige instructs, and Azzi does, bringing the joint to her lips, making dangerous eye contact as Paige lights it.

Azzi feels herself relax even before the first puff hits her system. Paige stays close and the smoke blows right into her face, making both of them laugh. Paige stares at her for a moment before saying, “Lemme go open the windows.”

While she’s gone, Azzi takes another two drags, and Paige narrows her eyes as she hops back on the bed. “Aight, slow down. Puff, puff, pass.”

Azzi smiles slyly as she passes the joint, watching Paige smoke it. Paige leans back on her free hand and Azzi lets her eyes rove over her covered shoulders, her sports bra, her stomach.

“Eyes up here,” Paige says, handing it back.

Azzi makes a face, too inebriated to care that she’s been caught.

“You wanna see ‘em?” Paige asks.

Azzi coughs a little on the smoke, “See what?”

Paige raises her eyebrows, then begins undoing her button-up before pushing it off her shoulders. And there, on her left shoulder, are three red marks, already darkening after just a couple hours.

“Huh,” Azzi says, taking another drag, “coulda sworn I only left one.”

Paige snatches the joint back. “Quit hogging this shit!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Azzi would usually roll her eyes, but that would entail taking her gaze from the hickeys on Paige’s skin and she’s not willing to do that for even a second.

“They’re brutal, huh?” Paige asks after two puffs.

Azzi shrugs, leaning up a little more on her elbows when she realizes she’s sliding down. The joint hovers near her lips as she says, “I’ve done worse.”

Something flares in Paige’s eyes at that. “To who?”

“Dunno.” When Paige raises her eyebrows, Azzi does it right back. “What? You’re not the only one who had a hoe era.”

“Didn’t hear too much about yours,” Paige mumbles, fumbling for her phone as Azzi takes a puff.

A moment later, R&B starts crooning through the room. “That’s because it’s private, P.”

“Mm-hmm.” The joint is short now as Paige takes another puff. “Were you being for real? Earlier?”

Azzi closes her eyes, leaning her head back. “About what?”

“That you’ve never gotten head.”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I was being for real.”

“Hm.” Paige nudges Azzi, and she opens her eyes for another smoke. “Why not?”

“Dunno.”

“There’s no way nobody’s wanted to before.”

“Yeah, it’s not that.” Azzi’s eyes are hooded now as she looks into Paige’s red ones. “I just…I say no, when they offer.”

“Because you don’t want it?”

“Because it’s scary.”

Paige frowns at the joint, which only has a drag left in it now. “What’s scary about it?”

“It’s so…personal.” Azzi shrugs. “I’ve never trusted a stranger enough for that.”

Paige nods, still staring at the blunt. Azzi doesn’t think she’s listening anymore. “That thing almost gone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” Paige looks at her, then back at the joint. “Here, lay back.”

Azzi grins. “Why?”

“Bro, trust.”

Azzi does. So she lays back, watching as Paige lazily crawls on top of her, straddling her legs.

Azzi’s hands move on their own accord, pressing into Paige’s stomach just to feel the muscle there.

With her free hand, Paige moves her hand to Azzi’s chin. “Open your mouth, mama.”

There’s smoke in the air, pressure between her legs. Azzi squirms to try to relieve it.

“Az,” Paige says, and Azzi’s eyes snap to her at the stern tone. “Open.”

Azzi obeys without hesitating, and she’s only a little surprised when Paige puts her thumb in her mouth, humming a little.

She doesn’t even need to be told before she closes her mouth around it and sucks.

Paige sighs, blunt damn near about to go out as she rocks her hips up against Azzi’s crotch just slightly. “So good for me, hm?”

Azzi nods, trying her best to keep her eyes open as she laves her tongue around Paige’s thumb. They hold eye contact for another moment before Paige remembers the joint and takes the last pull.

Azzi feels a little betrayed, thinking this was just a trick to get the last smoke, but then Paige is leaning down, pulling her thumb out and using it instead to hold her mouth open, and then she’s pressing their lips together, shotgunning the smoke directly into Azzi’s lungs.

It’s the easiest drag Azzi’s ever taken.

Azzi is only sort of aware that Paige doesn’t pull away once Azzi inhales. She’s only sort of aware that Paige’s tongue is taking advantage of her open mouth, licking into her, letting Azzi’s teeth graze over it while they kiss, open-mouthed and sloppy.

Azzi’s heart races when Paige’s hands begin to wander, feeling them go from her throat to her shoulders to her tits, where they hover.

“You good?” Paige mumbles against her. Azzi nods.

Paige squeezes her tits, fisting them up and then brushing her thumbs against her nipples, hard underneath her thin shirt and bra.

“Love your tits,” Paige mumbles, pulling away to kiss down her neck, reminiscent of their moment at the party earlier.

“Yeah?” Azzi breathes.

“Yeah, fuck.” Paige’s breath is hot over Azzi’s neck and she tilts her head to the side, moving her braids out of the way.

“Can’t believe what you pulled tonight,” Paige says, leaning down to nip at Azzi’s shoulders.

“On the couch?” Azzi asks. She can’t help but grin thinking about it.

“You got me all worked up in front of everyone,” Paige’s hands move down to Azzi’s stomach, playing with her belly piercing while she sucks hard at the place she just bit.

“Mm,” Azzi says, closing her eyes and letting the memory, paired with the feeling of Paige’s hands and lips, overtake her. “Couldn’t help it. You were talkin’ to that girl.”

“Yeah, fuck—so needy when you’re jealous, huh?” Paige asks, kissing at Azzi’s cleavage. “That’s so hot.”

“You’re so hot,” Azzi breathes. Under normal circumstances, she’d never boost her best friend’s already huge ego like this. But this is the farthest thing from normal circumstances.

Paige smirks against her skin, the cocky bastard. “Yeah? You think so?”

“Shut up,” Azzi responds, gasping when Paige sucks a mark into the top of her breast.

“This outfit—so fuckin’ slutty,” she says, biting at the sensitive mark she just made.

“You picked it,” Azzi reminds Paige, holding onto her shoulders in an attempt to ground herself.

“I changed my mind. Don’t want anybody to look at you, ever fuckin’ again.”

Azzi laughs breathily at this. “Want me all to yourself?”

Paige lifts her head up to meet her lips again, her arms wrapping around Azzi’s back and arching her off the bed, pulling her close. “You know I do,” she says, pulling back from the kiss to look at Azzi with something like reverence. “All mine.”

Azzi isn’t. All hers, that is. Not really. Not even now. Not knowing that all of this is pretend.

But, maybe Azzi has been all Paige’s since the day they met. Maybe a piece of her heart escaped her own chest and made a home happily in Paige’s, and maybe it will be there forever.

So she nods. “All yours, P.”

Paige smiles so, so big at her, and when they kiss again they’re both giggling, not even really kissing at this point.

“Wait, Paige,” Azzi laughs as Paige’s hand moves to her ass, “what’re we doing?”

“Kissing,” Paige replies.

“Duh, I knew that, genius,” Azzi says, flicking Paige’s forehead, which makes both of them dissolve into giggles again.

“But, seriously!” Azzi continues once she’s gathered herself. “P, you’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Paige says, nuzzling their noses together.

“Do you think it’s—like, okay? That we’re doing this?”

Paige licks her lips, pressing another kiss to Azzi’s. “We can say…we’re just practicing. We said we’d practice, remember?”

Azzi nods, remembering that conversation that feels so long ago now. “We did.”

“So, this is us practicing.” Paige kisses her again, “And it has nothing—“ another kiss, “to do with the fact like I love—“ yet another one, “kissing you.”

Azzi laughs, squirming away. “Paige!”

“Hmm,” Paige responds, eyes wandering down Azzi’s body.

“Hey,” Paige says after a moment, “do you trust me?”

Azzi brushes a strand of hair out of Paige’s face before cupping her cheek, smiling when Paige leans into her. “More than anyone.”

“So…” Paige smiles deviously, ducking down to press more kisses into the tops of Azzi’s breasts, “would you let me go down on you?”

Azzi laughs at the pure absurdity of the question. “P, don’t play like that.”

“I’m being so deadass,” Paige says, and when Azzi looks down, Paige is already looking at her. There’s no mirth in her tone, in her eyes.

Azzi’s stomach tumbles. “…Seriously?”

Paige nods.

“You…” Azzi furrows her brows, “want to?”

Paige leans up, kisses her tenderly on the lips. “You have no fucking idea.”

That is new information. New and insane and something she will work through tomorrow, when she’s sober.

Right now, all she can think of is the ache that’s been between her legs all night. And the way Paige could help her with it.

“Please,” Paige mutters against her lips, “wanna make you feel so good, baby.”

Azzi looks at her best friend. Her swollen lips, the hickies on her shoulder, her tousled hair.

And she says, “Okay.”

Paige’s eyes light up, and she wastes no time clarifying. Her hands go straight to Azzi’s top, making quick eye contact and pulling it off when Azzi smiles at her.

“Fuck,” Paige says, staring at Azzi’s tits through her lacy bra.

Azzi watches her with amusement, running her hands through Paige’s hair. “You’re no better than a man.”

“I’m not,” Paige agrees, leaning down to litter kisses over all the newly exposed skin. Feeling her lips over her warm skin is good, but it’s not…enough.

“Paige, can you…”

Paige’s eyes dart up to her, searching her face. “You want me to?”

“Uh-huh.”

Paige’s hands move up from her lower back to her bra clasp, and Azzi lifts slightly off the bed to make it easier. Paige makes quick work of it and then she’s sliding that down her shoulders, throwing it across the room like it’s offended her.

Azzi’s hazy as fuck, high and floaty and carefree, but when Paige looks down at Azzi and stares, everything suddenly feels too scary, too vulnerable. She moves to cover herself up, but Paige catches her wrists, pressing a kiss against each of them, eyes darting back to Azzi’s with a comforting smile. “You okay?”

Azzi nods, then shakes her head, then squeezes her eyes shut, embarrassed. “You’re just—looking at me.”

“I am,” Paige says, and Azzi hates the way she sounds slightly amused. “Az, look at me, for real.”

Reluctantly, Azzi does, and Paige’s eyes are all red and hooded and the smile on her face is dopey and she looks faded as hell, but this is still her best friend. The one who knows her, who sees her—who is seeing her like this, right now—and who still continues to be her best friend. To love her.

“I’ll stop looking, if you want,” Paige murmurs, leaning down to brush her lips against Azzi’s ear. “But I don’t think you want that, do you?”

The ache between her legs is nearly painful at this point. Truthfully, Azzi shakes her head.

“You look good, Az,” Paige responds, pulling away and leaning back down to her tits. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

She looks up through her lashes as she leans down and suckles a nipple into her mouth.

Azzi sighs at the first real contact of the night, hands fisting Paige’s hair to pull her impossibly closer, hips bucking up on their own accord.

Paige holds her down, mumbling at her to be patient while she trails kisses over to her other tit, licking around it and flicking her tongue over her nipple before she sucks a mark into the skin just beside it.

“Paige,” Azzi gasps, cradling her best friend’s head close. “P, feels so good, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” Paige asks, grazing her teeth over Azzi’s sensitive nipple. Azzi keens, hips fighting against Paige to reach up, looking for any type of friction. It makes her chuckle against Azzi’s skin. “She wants me so bad, huh?”

“Don’t refer to it as she,” Azzi giggles, and Paige laughs, too.

“I’ll say whatever I wanna say,” Paige replies, laughing a bit as her kisses stray further down Azzi’s chest, head bobbing a little to the music in the background while she kisses her languidly.

Azzi smiles down at the top of her head. “This is so crazy.”

“What?” Paige licks around Azzi’s belly piercing, not stopping her when she bucks up this time. “That I’m bouta go down on you?”

Azzi nods, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. “Yeah. Isn’t it crazy?”

“Uh-huh,” Paige replies, sucking a mark into Azzi’s abs. “Knew I’d do this someday, though.”

Azzi pushes her shoulder playfully. “You did not.”

“Did too.” She smile devilishly, wiggling her eyebrows while she kisses around the mark she’s made. “You couldn’t resist me if you tried.”

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes.

“Nah,” Paige replies, fingers moving to the button of her jean shorts and fumbling with it. “And you better fix your attitude.”

“What, before you fix it for me?” Azzi asks, lifting her hips to help Paige pull the shorts down.

“Careful,” Paige responds, throwing the shorts somewhere across the room. “Might have to fuck it outta you.”

Azzi nearly whines at the mere thought, and then Paige spreads her legs wide and places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her thigh, and she really does whine.

Paige bites the soft flesh there, soothing her hands up Azzi’s stomach as she does so.

Azzi’s head falls back once again, because she’s worried if she keeps looking at Paige she’ll come just from this.

“Mm,” Paige hums into her thigh, licking a long stripe up to where she needs her, tongue stopping just shy of her core. “Watchu want, baby? Want me to eat this pussy?”

Azzi’s hips cant up at the words, a breathy moan escaping her lips. “Fuck, P. Yes, shit, want you so bad.”

“Know you do,” Paige coos, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s cunt, clothed only in her thong. “So fuckin’ sexy.”

Azzi swears she’s actually floating at this point, levitating off the bed from Paige’s words, her touch, which has gotta be magic.

“Take them—off,” Azzi insists, hands going to the waistband of her panties to do it herself, but Paige stops her.

“I gotchu,” she mutters, kissing down her legs while she pulls the thong down Azzi’s leg, and it soon joins the rest of her clothes on the hotel room floor.

She sits back on her knees, hands rubbing Azzi’s thighs as she admires her, all spread out just for Paige.

And then she bends down and presses the flat of her tongue against Azzi’s dripping cunt.

“Fuck!” Azzi cries out, the sensation against her pussy unfamiliar and sort of odd and so, so good.

Paige licks up her one more time, gathering her wetness before she separates her folds with her fingers and sucks her clit into her mouth, eliciting a surprised gasp from Azzi.

“Good?” she mumbles, pulling back just enough to look up at her.

Azzi nods, pushing her head down urgently. “Uh-huh, just keep going, baby.”

Paige smirks, looping her arms around Azzi’s thighs and pulling her closer, Azzi gasping as she’s jerked forward. She gets back to it, kitten-licking Azzi’s cunt, eyes closed as she tastes her, and then she opens them and groans. “Fuck, Az. Such a pretty fucking pussy.”

A flush settles over Azzi’s entire body at the words, goosebumps popping up over her bare skin even though she’s the farthest thing from cold.

Paige lays one of her hands flat against Azzi’s pelvis, using her pointer finger and thumb to keep her spread open while she places filthy, open-mouthed kisses over her cunt, tongue dipping into her like it did her mouth while they were making out. Azzi props herself up on her elbows, chest heaving, wanting to watch. Paige opens her eyes and catches sight of her—braids tossed over one shoulder, tits rising and falling, abs clenching against the pleasure in the core—and groans, sending vibrations straight through Azzi’s pussy.

Paige’s eyes stay open, all hooded and sexy, as she moves her head down and finally dips her tongue inside Azzi’s entrance, pulling a high-pitched whine from her.

Something flashes in Paige’s eyes and Azzi isn’t really sure what happens, but the next thing she knows Paige is burying her entire face in her cunt, tongue fucking up inside of her so good, and Azzi’s head falls back as she lets out a moan that’s downright pornographic. “Oh, P, feels so good—gonna come, ‘m so close.”

Paige only nods, doubling her efforts and moving her head back and forth, pulling her tongue out to lick repeatedly from her hole to her clit, creating a rhythm that’s absolutely deadly, and then Azzi’s legs are shaking violently and her thighs clamp around Paige’s head, and Paige sucks her clit into her mouth and shakes her head, and Azzi practically screams Paige’s name as she comes hard.

Paige eats her through it, slowing down but not stopping, Azzi falling back against the sheets, unable to hold herself up anymore.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles into her pussy, and when Azzi tilts her head she finds Paige’s mouth and chin shiny with her own slick. “So pretty, mama. Look at you,” she kisses against Azzi’s hole, “comin’ all over my face like that.”

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, reaching down to push Paige’s head away from her overstimulated cunt. Paige doesn’t budge, kissing up to her twitching clit, causing Azzi to jerk. “Baby, it’s too much.”

Paige’s tongue comes back out, licking delicately at her entrance. “Please, Az. One more.”

Azzi shakes her head, holding onto Paige’s hair, trying to close her thighs. “I can’t.”

“Yeah you can,” Paige murmurs against her, nose nuzzling her clit while she tongues her entrance again. “Be such a good girl for me and take it, huh?”

Paige holds Azzi’s thighs firmly open, and Azzi is already dripping again, so that’s that.

Paige digs back in, slurping at Azzi’s impossibly wet cunt, eating her like she’s a woman starved. Azzi is still so sensitive from the last one and it almost hurts when Paige suckles her clit, but it also makes her whine, hips lifting off the bed to hump against Paige’s face.

Paige moans into her, teeth grazing ever-so-slightly against her engorged clit, and that does it—with a weak cry, blonde hair fisted in her hands, Azzi comes for the second time, hips immediately trying to get away as Paige works her through it.

Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Paige crawls back up Azzi’s body, smiling proudly. “Did so good, baby,” she coos, kissing Azzi’s cheek before collapsing next to her, pulling her into her side.

Azzi lets herself be held, tracing her fingers gently over the skin of Paige’s stomach. “You’re good at that.”

“I know, mama,” Paige chuckles.

“Hey…” Azzi presses her hand against Paige’s stomach and lifts herself up so they’re face-to-face, “Paigey, I wanna do you, too.”

Paige stares at her, then shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good, baby.”

“Please?” Azzi pouts. It’s totally unfair that she’s laying here, naked and spent, while Paige is still fully clothed and untouched.

“We gotta go to sleep, it’s getting late,” Paige replies, pulling Azzi back down.

“Why can’t I?” Azzi pries, laying her head on Paige’s chest. “I’d be good, I promise.”

“I know you would,” Paige replies, and she sounds like she means it. “I just…it’s okay. Really.”

Azzi doesn’t argue any more, because Paige is tracing soothing shapes over her back, and slowly but surely she’s being lulled to sleep.

But she does wonder, vaguely, if she will ever get the chance to do this again. And, more pressingly—what this means for them.

—————————————————

The next morning, the first thing Azzi does when she wakes is reach blindly across the bed for something warm and solid and snuggly with the name Paige.

Her hands fist cold sheets, and her eyes shoot open.

“P?” she calls, listening for sound in the bathroom. No answer.

Azzi looks down at herself, naked and bruised from the waist down.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Paige,” Azzi tries again, rolling out of bed and reaching for her phone. No messages. No note on the bedside table.

Pulling the sheet up to cover herself—even though nobody’s around—she navigates to Paige’s contact and constructs a message:

Hey, where’d you go?

She waits a few minutes for the answer, but when it comes, it’s wholly disappointing:

Went for a run. Be back by eleven.

The period at the end is all too telling.

Paige fucked her last night. And then left her to wake up cold and alone in the morning.

There’s nothing good about this.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa @router2260 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ijustreadignoreme @pazzilover101

also lmk if yall want the songs i listened to while writing *that* scene 😼

[just-a-ghost00]

Are they "spying" on you? Why?

I just felt called to do this reading very randomly. The theme is also very random. I just thought these pictures were just so adorable.

Group 1

Trust, Love, Surrender rx, Paradox & back of the deck Strength

They try not to. They try so hard. But they just can't resist the urge to check up on you. Watching you from afar is this person's guilty pleasure. Curiosity just gets the best of them. Even if they tell themselves "I should forget about group 1, I have other things to deal with", they constantly find themselves with their nose up in your business lmao Part of the reason why they stalk you is because this person feels a bit confused when it comes to you. They like you but paradoxically they kinda wish they didn't. This person has a hard time trusting others and opening their heart to people in general, especially romantically. They don't want to surrender to whatever may be going on between you but at the same time they just always feel called to come back to you. They just can't stay away from you no matter how hard they try, no matter the number of reasons they try to find to explain why they just should leave and never look back. They try resisting you so hard that it is painful to them. It just feels so unnatural to deny their feelings and attraction. But at the same time, this "love" doesn't make sense to them. I guess that they were surprised to meet you and didn't expect to get attached to you so quickly. And they may be viewing this attachment as a weakness for some reason. I just feel like this person is scared of being toyed with, being hurt and taken advantage of. Which is absolutely legitimate and understandable. Also, I'm getting that they check up on you because they want to see if you're in a similar state. If you too are also confused and feeling messed up ever since you met them. A part of them wants to be reassured and know whether they're alone in this situation or if you reciprocate the feeling. The truth is this person just adores you and somehow has a hard time coming to terms with that. I wonder why that is. Let's pull some tarot cards to get to the depth of this situation.

You got the ace of pentacles, White Numen, 3 of wands, 10 of cups, 2 of swords, Queen of cups.

They just have so many hopes and dreams for this connection that it scares them. Because they feel like it is too much too soon. They're not sure that they're allowed to have such thoughts of you. I feel like they're doubting their sanity in a way. Like "is it even healthy to think of group 1 this way when we don't know each other" kind of inner struggle. Because to this person you mean so much more than what they let on. Not only do they have feelings for you but they hope for a future with you. They want to take the connection to a higher level and see where this leads because they just feel so happy with you and safe. And it just feels like the right thing to do. However, maybe your attitude towards them lead them to believe that you may not be wanting the same thing. So they're puzzled. There's a dilemma going on here. "Should I keep hoping for more or should I just move on?" is what may be going through their mind. I also had the impression that there was another person playing a role in this indecision and confusion. Possibly another interest that they had in the past. And this person's energy is sometimes coming back in their bubble, which pushes this person to try to forget about you. But it's not as easy as they thought it would be. I feel like for others of you that third energy is actually distance. This person is scared of how living at a distance from one another could be impacting the connection. Like "yeah I like group 1 but what if that disappears with time since we don't see each other that much" kind of feeling. Also they may be scared that you end up picking someone else and when they do come in, it's too late for them. So that could also explain why they check up on you. They want to see if you found someone else. This spread also made me feel like this person puts you on a pedestal and feels like they're no match for you.

Group 2

The Weaver, Ask Body rx, Transmute, Shadow & back of the deck Pillar

I wanted to say no but the last two cards made me think otherwise. I feel like this person is not directly checking up on you but is getting information about you through their friends or through their intuition. Also, it could be that they don't actively seek out for you but even if they try not to check up on you, you just constantly appear on their feed or things just remind them of you. Similarily to group 1, I get the feeling of someone fighting the urge not to stalk. And this person is better at it than group 1's person. When they do check up on you, which I feel like doesn't happen very often, this person does their very best for you not to notice. So they could use fake accounts or apps that allow them to see your content without their name appearing in your notifications. I feel the reason why they act this way is because this person is trying to get their control back. It's like they had lost themselves in the connection and they feel like they have to heal from that. So they try to remain at a distance from you and try to keep the interactions at a minimal level. Cause they know that if they open the door, they'll just lose it. I feel like this person just wants to keep a hold on their desire for you. And rather than expressing their passion and pulling you in this spiral of lust, they would rather use this energy as a source of power and inspiration. I feel like they're trying to keep themselves busy and staying on the low. You may notice that this person is less active on their socials or if they do post, they're keeping things very surface level and kind of mysterious. Like they share stuff without sharing too much so it would be hard to really know what they're up to. I also picked up on the energy of someone releasing sexual tension through art or through their work. Or also through physical activity. This person may be hitting the gym more often. You may have noticed physical changes in their appearance. That's because they're trying to distract themselves from the effect you have on them. Since I pulled tarot cards for group 1, I will do the same for you as well.

You got White Numen, 8 of wands, Chariot rx, 9 of cups, Hierophant, ace of cups.

Boy I knew this spread was connected to group 1. If you hesitated between the two groups, you may want to check G1 then. This person got the feels but more importantly they got the hots for you, like really hots. This person is desparately fighting the urge to rush towards you and go down on you. There's so much that they want to say to you but they hold that back because they think you'll think they're crazy. This person daydreams about you 24/7. You're their wish fulfillment. You have everything that they dream of when it comes to their vision of what a partner should be like. This person definitely considers you commitment material and they just love you plain and simple. I have to mention that the 3 of cups is at the back of the deck. Just like in group 1, there's a third party energy here lurking in the shadows. This may be a past connection. But also, this could be that this person is trying to keep things friendly with you because they're just overwhelmed by how they feel towards you and it scares them. It's like they're trying to run away from their feelings and the way they do that is by drowning themselves in work, focusing on various activities at the time to make it look like they're not available for you. Again, I also get that friend group energy like this person's friends know you or something. Maybe they tell this person about how you're doing so that they don't have to feel guilty. Or actually, maybe their friends are trying to get this person to lower their guards down and actually give in to temptation when it comes to you. For some reason, I picked up on a friend saying stuff like "oh group 2 posted a picture, omg they're so beautiful" just to get this person to react. Maybe they even try to make them jealous by interacting with you. That feels a bit weird lmao but I feel like your person's friends are rooting for you and trying to get your person to talk to you. But this person is like "nah we're just friends, group 2 doesn't want me, it's better if we don't talk" and their friends are like "sure, who do you think you're kidding just go and talk to them dumbass".

Group 3

Manifest, Self Love, The Universe, Compassion & back of the deck Connect to heart

No, they are not stalking you. The reason for that is because this person is focused on their self growth, their health and their personal goals. They are doing their best to manifest their desired reality, thus they don't have much energy left to focus on you. This isn't to say that they do not like you. I feel like this person appreciates and values you but they just don't feel the need to check up on you and know every detail of what you're doing. I feel like this person has been through a lot lately and just needs to focus on themselves, to recharge their batteries and do what feels right for them. So they're just not up in your space and they mind their own business. This person is likely to be at a distance from you and you may not hear from them at all. Also I'm getting that this person feels connected to you spiritually so they feel like they don't have to stalk you because they already know deep down you're doing okay. They just intuitively know that you understand them and care about them just like they do. They also trust that you respect their privacy and need for space, so they're not worried and they just do their own thing in their little bubble. They may even have deleted their apps to avoid risking interacting with you. They just don't want to be distracted and they need the time and space to come back to their senses and to heal. I asked spirit for more details so I drew tarot cards just like I did for the previous groups.

You got 9 of cups, 4 of cups, knight of pentacles, 8 of cups, Star rx, White Numen.

This person is focused on their dreams and their emotional needs. They just felt disconnected from you and they didn't see any reason to keep going knowing that they weren't feeling it. So they pulled their energy back and poured it back into their own cup. This person has a lot of respect for you and is thankful for the time spent with you. However they just feel like they have to go their own way for the time being. They didn't see a purpose in trying to make the connection work when they didn't see anything come out of it. They thought it would be hurting you both for no reason. And this person didn't want to hurt you. Also they felt like there was no hope left for your connection and that they were called somewhere else. I'm also getting that their work is taking a lot of their attention and energy so this person just didn't have space for you in their life.

[melliemell]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT.. POCKY GAME WITH THE BSD CAST (preferably Ranpo and Dazai, feel free to add whoever u want!!) MAKE IT ROMANTIC TOO PLZ I CANT GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD🙏🙏🙏

LOTS OF LOVE - an anon who lost their glasses

👀👀this... this was too fun to write ohmygod you have no idea

Now you've managed to get me stuck on thoughts of silly little moments with those losers too aaAAAAAA I gotchu nonnie, you ask and I deliver😌

BSD Cast ft. Pocky Game

(Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Chuuya; high-key suggestive, blame them not me)

Dazai

“It’s a very delicate procedure.”

“Mmm, big boy business, I see.”

“Shush. Good students listen to their sensei first and give smartass remarks later. Now…” 

 It would be Dazai’s idea, not surprising in the slightest. The thing is, he’d be very convincing about this, all sweet smiles and an offhand remark how cute it’d be ‘cause couples are supposed to do sappy things, duh. An innocent enough suggestion, one you found amusing but nothing to bat an eye about. 

Until you add Dazai’s complete disregard for social norms and he’d be pulling those things out in the most embarrassing, inconvenient places he could think of. Mostly to annoy you, secondly to see how red in the face you’d get if he put you in a compromising situation. And oh boy do those happen often. 

One moment you’d be in the middle of discussing important work matters with Atsushi, the next Dazai’s sliding up in your personal space, pocky already hanging at his lips. Worst is he’d act as though this is your average activity, batting his lashes all sweetly at you as he waited. If you snap the pocky with your hand instead he’d react as though it was his heart you just crushed, you cruel beauty of his.

It’s all fine though, things considered. So long as he does get his kiss in the end. Behind some privacy this time.

Ranpo

No. Do not engage with this man in a pocky game, he will be an absolute menace about it.

Unlikely to suggest it himself as it means he’d have to share his snacks with you. Could be convinced if informed of the chance of getting free smooches though. But he’d whine about it, probably already munching on the pack you bought as you were explaining the rules to him.

In the case of you managing to save some for the actual thing…

“Yeah, yeah, can you get on with it? I wanna play already.”

Ranpo does not, in fact, play. The moment you get in place, both of you biting onto your respective side, Ranpo all but throws away any and all rule-information you gave. Who needs those? Only losers, that’s who.

He’s already bitten off almost the entirety of the pocky, lips finding yours a second later as his he pulls you in, hands smashing up your cheeks on both sides. You can practinally hear him munching on the chocolate which makes this all the more hilarious. Talk about mixed priorities. 

Second try goes just as the first one; any illusions of a game forgotten as you were pretty sure Ranpo’s impatience wasn’t quite something you were equipt for…

The third and final chance (last pocky, unfortunately he ate the rest) wasn’t really a chance, honestly. Not when you could just push him back on the couch and kiss him stupid as you climbed atop. 

He might get the remaining pocky later. Maybe.

Fyodor

“How charming.”

Would be amused by the whole thing. Unexpectedly easy to convince, and it gets even weirder as he calmly complies with the rules, nodding patiently. Before you know it you’re staring down at each other, one pocky distance between you two.

Not the type to rush into things, letting you get closer to him instead. Expect a lot of raised eyebrows and chaste kisses as you get through the whole pack. Did you think this was a one go thing? Silly you. A happy, satisfied partner is a compliant one, after all. Little things like this cost him nothing, but could bring a smile on your face. Why would he waste an opportunity like that?

Unlikely to push things further… but just as unlikely to stop you from leaving a few more kisses on him. One or two at the edge of his lips. One accidentally finding its way on his jaw. A trail of feathery brushes down his throat and soon he’d be getting the memo pretty well. 

You can’t help it. There’s something about Fyodor’s damned calmness that always leads to this. Maybe it’s the presence of character; something solid and secure before you that always manages to crawl under your skin. You’d be pulling at his shirt and trousers before you know it, pocky game entirely forgotten.

Chuuya

This one’s a trickie.

Chuuya’d be split between wanting to give in to your sillies, but also… why? Why this? Why not go to that nice and fancy restaurant he talked to you about? The one with the molten chocolate cakes; he’d treat you to all the sweets in the world if you’d ask him. 

Embarrassed at first, and trying his best to sneakily pull himself out of the situation. Until you finally manage to corner him, pocky box in hand and a roguish glint in your eyes.

Maybe it was his dignity, or maybe he was playing too much into the tough guy persona. But the moment you sat him down, a winner’s determination written all over your face– oh, no. Hell no, this was on.

Forget about any cute couple moments. Oh nono, it was all narrowed eyes and prolonged stares of intense analysis, each trying to predict the others’ move. One wrong decision, just the slightest distraction and–

Before Chuuya had you round the waist, rolling you suddenly on the bed as a panicked yelp flew from your lips. The absolute ass. And he’d be laughing about it too, looking down at your sprawled form with the goofiest smile, trying to bite into his lower lip to stifle yet another fit. 

“You all good, sweets? Guess ya lost this round.”

And you’d pull him down, your breath ghosting over his widening grin.

“We’ll see about that.”

[avloki-pal]

Yeah it’s you in the tags!! Didn’t @ you since I was reblogging from you already, which means you would get the notification, and didn’t know how much you wanted to be perceived

And they so are fucked up third thing, and you’re so right about Loop trying to kill Siffrin immediately making their relationship queer, in both the weird and fruity sense. The opposite of love is indifference and all that. In my view of them they do hold hands but also bite each other, they’re so cat coded I can’t help but see them interacting with that in mind

I too like tag rambling, tho it has the disadvantage of the words in it often getting lost, which I don’t like, specially for my own posts, I tend to put so many tidbits there!! And most people don’t see it!! Which is exactly why I like to add the og tags then add <prev tags at the end of it, then add my own, when reblogging

I’m so glad you liked being perceived, there are many reblogs I want to but don’t reply to because I’m both unsure how the person feels about it and feel weird responding to it through reblogging. I pretty much always answer to comments because it doesn’t have those two factors. Fellow tag ramblers: I see you and appreciate you

And yeah! There are many things I go “hmm, not really my thing (or in the case of this art specifically not really the idea I had for it), but I known it’s other people’s and I hope they have fun with it” (such as clothes with deep neck cuts) or “hmm, wouldn’t have thought of it myself and won’t really add it to my hoard but it’s in yours and I love what you’re making with it” (such as romantic Sifdile, it’s something I see the appeal of and liked I lot of work with it, but don’t really add to my good ol headcanon pile). I also like easing peoples doubts, I know I myself have wondered “oh is it okay to interpret this thing as this? Is it okay to do [—]?” It also sets a precedent and boundaries of sorts for how people interact with my work, maybe in the future I’ll go “don’t tag as [X] or do [Y]”! Tho I think thats more likely to happen to work of my own OCs and that I make for other fandoms considering what I’ve observed of this one so far

Hope you have a good day! Feel free to come back anytime

To self soothe

Finally finished watching that SAAP stream and got inspired, I am so normal about them

[mochiwonz]

— SMILEY EYES

PAIRING. fem!reader x jake sim CONTENT. strangers to lovers , fluff <3 , cursing , vv cute :3 NOTE. jake's smile is so so beautiful but what always stands out to me is the way his eyes also smile when he is really smiling > < so ofc, i had to make this !!

7:45 am. Monday. The start of another long, tiring, and boring week.

Yes, you hung out with your friends sometimes, but you spent most of your time working at the cafe. Working at the cafe has always been unpleasant, however there was one amazing benefit.

You always got to see him, that cute smiley guy with his even cuter smiley eyes.

lt may seem silly to say this, but he was the sole reason you hadn't quit yet. Your manager sucked, your co-workers did basically nothing, and you had to do most of the work.

You memorized everything that you could about this cute smiley guy. He always arrives 10am and orders an iced americano or a vanilla latte with half sweetness. He had an accent, one that you would assume was an australian accent. He also has a habit of biting his lip and tends to smile with his eyes a lot. That was something that you adored about him.

One problem though, you didn't know his name.

Whenever you ask for the name for his order, he always says "J". Like, literally just "J".

You secretly hoped that one day he would give you his name, or even his number. You definitely wouldn't complain.

Today the weather was gloomy and cold, 69 degrees. What a great start to the day!

On the way to work, you spotted a couple sitting on a bench with their dog. They were just cuddling. They looked so full of warmth on this cold day.

Finally, you arrive at the cafe. Your shift starts at around 8:30am, so you have some time to kill. But instead of doing something useful, you ended up daydreaming about all the possible scenarios with him, cute smiley guy.

The sound of bells is what wakes you up from your daydreaming and oh shit. It's already 8:32.

The first customer arrives and then the second, and then the third. You're really just waiting for him to arrive.

Luckily, you hadn't had a grumpy customer yet- thank god.

You don't know exactly why you feel so attracted to him. It's like he has this energy that literally makes you feel so much happier, especially when he smiles.

You feel your heart literally melt into mush every time you catch a glimpse of him smiling. The way his eyes also smile makes you want to sob. You've truly never seen such a beautiful and radiant smile.

9:50am, ten more minutes until he would usually be arriving. You could already feel your excitement.

He came every single day of the week, and this made getting through work so much easier for you. Of course he didn't know that but you're very very thankful.

"okay, your order will be out shortly! feel free to take a seat anywhere you'd like" you tell a customer while looking at the time.

9:58, two more minutes.

In those two minutes, you spend your time making a matcha latte for a customer and excitedly daydreaming about him.

"order 56 for ____!" you call out, and hand the drink to the customer.

You quickly drink some water and nervously wipe the sweat off of your hands.

*Ding!*

He's here.

You look over at the front door and not to your surprise, it's smiley guy. Sometimes he'd come with his friends, but today he was alone. He looked so good today, his hair was fluffy and he was wearing a navy blue hoodie with a white shirt underneath and some baggy jeans. God, you could already feel the hearts forming in your eyes.

pull yourself together.

"goodmorning! please take your time and let me know when you're ready to order" you say, trying not to sound awkward or nervous.

He nods and smiles at you in response, still looking at the menu.

No, why did he have to smile?

You felt your heart melt and your palms start to get sweaty. You were definitely going to embarrass yourself now, fuck.

"can i get an iced americano, large, with matcha cold foam on top?" he asks while looking at you, holding eye contact.

Of course, there was no way you could hold eye contact with him. You'd probably shit yourself.

So, you just nod and put his order in the tablet.

He giggles and fuck, he definitely noticed that you couldn't hold eye contact with him. You were so fucked.

"anything else for you today?" you ask while nervously smiling, still not looking up at him.

"yeah, just one more thing" he says.

"okay, what would that be?" you respond.

"your number perhaps..?"

Was the daydreaming taking a toll on you or did smiley guy just ask you for your number?

"wait- what, huh? you want my number???" you say, obviously sounding a bit confused.

"mhm!" he says while nodding and flashing you his cute smile.

You can't help but just stand there and stare at him. You might just vomit due to how confused, nervous, and overwhelmed you are right now.

This beautiful man that looked like he was a model, was asking you- an average cafe worker, for your number?

"uhm yeah of course, here-" you finally say in response while writing down your number on his receipt. "here's my number and oh, i need your name for your order?"

"the name's jake" he says while smiling, but this time with his cute smiley eyes, too.

You can't tell if you're red or glistening from your sweat, but you nod and write down his name.

"what's yours? i've just been calling you pretty girl in my head but uh, yeah, what's your name?" he asks, and yeah- you're definitely red now. he found you pretty?

"i'm y/n" you tell him shyly while grabbing his drink and handing it to him.

"okay well then y/n, i'll text you soon!" he says happily while walking away, and you're still in shock.

Maybe deciding to work at the cafe was the best decision you ever made.

pls reblog if you enjoyed :D my other works here if you want to check them out <3

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[flemingsfreckles]

Safe Space

Synopsis: based off of a request I got (that I can no longer find) that wanted to see reader comforting Jessie, Jessie seeks comfort from her girlfriend after a hard couple days at the Olympic Games.

Warnings: discussion of the Canadian Olympic scandal, that’s it

WC: 1.6k

A/N: hi, I’m on vacation again, so here’s a sort little blurb (I have no idea when this is posting because my time zones are all messed up!) I also may or may not have reviewed this after being awake for like 24+ hours so no promises on the grammar and spelling.

You had quickly wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped out of the shower, hearing a second knock on your door you originally figured it was the hotel sending up the extra blanket you had requested before you hopped in the shower. However, when the knocking continued, becoming more insistent you turned and moved over to the door, double checking that you were covered before looking through the peephole and immediately pulling the door open.

“What are you doing here?!” You said, shocked to see Jessie standing in front of you. “You can’t be here.”

“I know but, can I come in?” Her voice was quiet, she only made eye contact with you in short glances. She shifted her weight, hands fiddling together.

“Jess…” as you say her name she looks up giving you the chance to fully take in her appearance. You notice her slightly disheveled appearance, a frown across her face, eyes watery, her lip had a slight shake to it as she awaits your answer. Your heart sinks at the obviously distraught appearance she had. “Yeah, come in.” You open the door to your own hotel room before quickly glancing into the hallway to see if anyone else was around.

“You’re not supposed to be here Jessie.” You tried to gently remind her as you follow her into your hotel room.

Jessie sighs. “I know, I just, I needed you. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

The Canadian team had spent the last couple of days playing their first games of the Olympics, all wins but outside of the game, everything was a mess for Canada. Everything was a mess for Jessie. Drone scandal, being labeled as cheaters, losing coaching and staff, constant pressure from the press to make statements, nothing about this tournament had been easy.

You knew the pressure your girlfriend was holstering. Not only was she captaining her first major tournament, she was captaining what felt like a sinking ship. She had been nearly silent since the news broke, calling you just to say a hello before falling into silence and letting you speak until other obligations caused you to hang up.

You saw her briefly after the first game, she had looked tired, as did every other player. You got the chance to talk with her, remind her how proud of her you were, how proud everyone was, but you knew she didn’t care to hear it.

By the end of the second game she looked not just tired, but drained. Only coming over to quickly see you following their victory she hardly spoke, muttering a greeting and letting you kiss her cheek and give her a quick hug before she retreated to the locker room, head down as if they had just been beaten.

The third game she hardly looked like herself. Dark circles had formed under her eyes that had slowly lost the sparkle you had become so used to seeing. She hardly smiled, only looking like she was having fun during a goal celebration before her face would return stoic. She hardly even spoke during the game, not to her teammates, not to the ref, not to the other team. She simply waved to you before leaving the field, not utter a word to you, her family, or any fans.

It was unlike Jessie, she wasn’t one to usually let a games or the sport in general ruin her mood for the day, a couple hours sure, but today and this week was different. To say you were worried about her was an understatement.

You worry for her had set in days ago, when the news first broke. You knew your girlfriend well and you knew how she’d likely cope with the situation. Jessie would do her best to take the weight off her teammates inadvertently putting it on her own back. She’d try to hold the team together as best she could, at the expense of herself. She’d stay up late to talk with the other girls, to make sure they felt reassured, not caring that she lost sleep over it. You knew she’d do anything for her teammates, even if it meant hurting herself.

You felt like you were watching your girlfriend break apart, unable to do anything.

When she showed up, unannounced at your hotel room, you knew things were bad. It was so different, she was actively going against the team's rules and guidelines sitting in your hotel room. Jessie wasn’t one to mess around with the rules. She followed them and encouraged her fellow teammates to follow them as well. Thus meaning she never left the team hotel to see you when she wasn’t allowed, she didn’t sneak off, especially not to come to your room, her being here meant she needed you.

“What’s going on?” You said looking over your shoulder at her as you rummage through your suitcase for some sweats. You give her a second to respond and when she doesn’t, you turn around as you drop the towel and pull a shirt over your head.

Jessie is laying on your hotel bed, one arm slung across her eyes, her other resting on her stomach. You watched as she took a few deep breaths, her chest rising and falling. Slipping on underwear and a pair of sweats, you quickly moved to hang up your towel before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Your hand comes to rest on Jessie’s thigh, giving her a comforting rub. “Jess, do you want to talk about what’s going on with you?”

“It’s, just all of it, it’s too much to get into, I can’t do it.” Her voice quivers slightly, to anyone else they might not have noticed, but you knew. “I know I can’t be here but, just a quick cuddle please?” She pulled her hand away from her face, and sat up. Seeing the mix of disappointment and sadness in her eyes made your heart ache. You never wanted to see her this upset over a game, especially one they didn’t even lose.

“Sure babe, but it’s gotta be quick, you can’t be getting in trouble for sneaking out.”

“I know, but I, I can’t be in that hotel anymore, I just can’t. They’re all looking to me, and I don’t have the answers!” Her words stop and you notice she’s suddenly breathing unevenly.

“Jessie, hey.” Trying to pull her attention, you quickly stand up from the bed to squat in front of her, putting your hands on her face. You can see her relax slightly into your touch. “Look at me, Jess, look at me.”

“You’re doing the best you can, that’s all anyone can expect of you. That’s all you can do.” You try to convince her of the words you were saying, letting your thumbs gently caress her cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m so tired of talking about it, I just need you.”

“Okay, come here.” You stand up, climbing onto the bed to lay down before lifting the covers out so Jessie can join you. She curls her body into your side, her head coming to rest on your chest and her arm draped across your chest, her hands resting just under your breast. “I love you.” You kiss the top of her head, feeling her hum in response.

You run your fingertips along her back, scratching lightly, aiding her in falling asleep. It’s not long before her breathing slows and you feel her completely relax against you.

You remained still in bed, the last thing you wanted to do was to stir and jostle the head that rested on your chest. The arm that was wrapped under her body had fallen asleep a long time ago but you couldn’t move her. You watched as your girlfriend’s phone rang, Janine’s face on the screen, you debate answering it for her before letting it go to voicemail.

Your own phone then begins to ring, this time you answer. “Hey Janine, what’s up?” You whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Hey, have you heard from Jess? I don’t mean to panic you but she’s not in our room, haven’t seen her in a bit.” You can pick up on the worry in your girlfriend’s best friend’s voice.

You look down to where your girlfriend’s head was resting on your chest, soundly asleep. For the first time in days she looked peaceful, she looked like she was okay.

You whisper back to Janine, not wanting to wake Jessie. “I don't want her to get in trouble, but I’ve got her, she’s fine.”

“She’s with you?” Janine asks, sounding confused.

“Yeah, I know she shouldn’t be, but she showed up and I think she just needed a break. She’s sleeping.” You continue to whisper, pausing when you notice Jessie stir slightly.

You hear Janine’s sigh of relief through the phone. “Okay, good, good. I don’t think she’s slept more than a few hours the past 5 days. I won’t say anything, everyone just wants her to be okay.”

“She’ll be back tonight, don’t worry.”

Janine thanks you before hanging up a second later. You feel the weight on your chest get lighter as Jessie lifts her head to look at you. “Was that for me?” She looked up at you with eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Janine just wanted to check on you.” You whisper, bringing your hand to her head with a gentle push in an attempt to get her to relax back against your chest.

“Am I in trouble?” You can hear the worry in her voice.

You give her another kiss to her forehead before running your hands through her hair and down her back to scratch her skin again. “No, not at all, go back to sleep Jess, I’ve got you.”

[officialmissamericana]

SWEET NOTHING | OP81

summary: from the outside, it looks like your life is wonderful. you’re dating famous racecar driver oscar piastri, and you’re a bestselling author. yet all that glitters is not gold, and after months of feeling disregarded, you finally decide to speak up.

warnings: angst, swearing

note: this will be a two-part story. hoping to finish it by next week, but i’ll be back at uni studying for my exams 😕

♡ story starts here!

— june, 2026 𖡡 melbourne, australia —

(y/n’s perspective)

It was already half-past four, and Oscar still hadn’t arrived at the café. You’d agreed on a three-thirty meeting time, a time that was later that wouldn’t impede on both of your busy schedules. Oscar was in the middle of his third Formula One season, dominating yet again in his flashy papaya McLaren car, having won two races and ending up on five podiums only ten Grand Prixs into the season. Meanwhile, you were at home in Australia, working on your next big novel, and you were thinking about making it Formula One-inspired due to your background knowledge of it.

You tapped your fingers on the cool porcelain mug, the clinking sound vibrating through the air. Yet again, you took a backwards glance at the door, hoping Oscar would walk through. He’d give you a small peck on the forehead — he was never one for PDA — and slide onto the chair beside you, murmuring his apologies. And then it would be time to break the news, something you’d been holding in your chest for so long, it felt like you’d explode if you kept it in any longer.

You checked your watch, sighing when it displayed 4:32 on its glossy surface. You debated on calling Oscar, but you knew it would just go straight to voicemail. Even being his girlfriend of almost three and a half years didn’t grant you immediate access to Oscar.

Finally, the bell hanging above the entrance tinkled, announcing somebody’s arrival. It was Oscar.

“Hey,” he said, his cheeks flushing from the way you looked at him. “Sorry I’m late. Work, um, held me back.” He pulled the chair back and sat down, weaving his fingers together.

“It’s fine,” you responded coldly, obviously making it sound like everything wasn’t fine. Because it wasn’t.

“So…” Oscar tilted his head to the side. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

It had been almost four weeks since Oscar had come home at a decent hour. Two months since you had gone on a proper date, not eating Chinese takeout at home and watching Netflix, but going to a museum or somewhere, anywhere, outside of any of the apartments you two shared. Almost three months since he invited you to attend a Grand Prix — not that you could have afforded the time away from writing your novel, but it was the effort and thought that mattered.

“Oscar…” you trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words. You’d been planning this for weeks, staring at your reflection in the mirror and reciting the words that would effectively end the continuation of the past three years of your life.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You inhaled, sucking in a deep breath, before saying, “I want to break up with you.”

The cool mask of indifference shattered once those words were uttered. Shock fizzled on Oscar’s beautiful face, his brown eyes wide and taken aback. “Y/N, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. We’ve not spent time together in ages, and I have been feeling this way for a long while. I was hoping that you would notice my distance, notice that something was wrong. I was tolerating your mediocrity, when once you would have burned the world down for me just to prove your love. Now I’m lucky to get a few words each day, and I know I’m entitled to more than that.” Your voice broke and you paused, collecting yourself. “I’m tired of being second. You’ve relegated me to a backseat in your life, claiming that your career is more important, but what that really means is that I have to be OK with the lack of effort you put in because there’s an ‘excuse’ for it.”

Oscar shook his head. “I never said you were less important. You mean the world to me, Y/N. How could you not think that?”

“Because actions speak louder than words, and lately I haven’t seen much of either.” You said, pursing your lips, valiantly fighting to stop tears from falling down your face.

He moved his hand across the table and you noticed it was shaking slightly. He was afraid to lose you. But it was because he knew you were complacent, and that no other self-respecting woman would be. By losing you, he would no longer have a deferential girlfriend who let him get away with all his offenses.

You positioned yourself away from him. “I’m sorry that this is how it has to end, but I refuse to stay silent any longer.”

“Y/N… I can’t believe this.” Oscar shook his head again. “I gave you everything I could. You knew that sacrifices would have to be made, but suddenly it’s unbearable? I’ve spent three years showing you how much you mean to me. Yet it’s not enough?”

You twisted your lips, swallowing roughly. This was so much harder than you thought it would be. “Maybe at one point in time, your scraps of affection were enough, but it’s not anymore.” You stood up abruptly, unable to take this any longer. “I’m leaving.”

“Just like that?” Oscar retorted incredulously.

You nodded. “I’ll gather my belongings from our apartment. I’ve already asked my friend if I can stay at her house for a bit until I figure my situation out. But once I leave this café, we’re over.”

Oscar’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. I love you.”

“No,” you interrupted, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “You just love the idea of me.”

With that, you turned around and left the café, your heart pounding rapidly. You couldn’t believe it was over. Months of pent-up frustration, tension… all of it was finally released.

“Wait!”

Oscar’s familiar voice prickled the back of your neck. Fuck, he was following you, trying to get you to reconsider. You quickened your pace, eager to get to your Uber before he could intercept you.

An arm snaked around yours, pulling you back and making you halt. Heat crept up on the spot where you were touching. You hated how you still had a physical reaction to Oscar, even after how poorly he treated you.

“Y/N, please. Listen to me,” he begged. You refused to look at him because you knew everything you’d work for would fall down like a house of cards. “Please. Let’s talk this out at home, OK? We’ll figure this out. I can’t lose you.”

“No,” you said firmly. “We’re done and there’s nothing you can do to change that. I’m tired of letting you walk all over me. I’m not your toy to bring out and play with, then put back into the closet whenever you see fit.”

Oscar scoffed. “You’re not a toy. I’ve never said you were one.”

“It was a metaphor,” you shot back, anger flooding your veins and making you curl your fists. “Leave me alone, Oscar. Stop following me.”

“I have every right to follow my girlfriend when she’s attempting to destroy something I’ve been working on for almost four years!” Oscar shouted, raising his voice. He wasn’t a loud person, so the increase in volume made you jolt backwards.

A woman walking by gave you two a sour look, but you ignored her. “If you cared, you would have done something earlier. Our relationship is dead and gone. There’s no pulse for you to check, because the heart of our relationship stopped beating. A long, long time ago,” you exclaimed.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been as attentive as usual, but you know that a championship and constructor’s is on the line.” He reasoned, putting his hands up in the air in mock surrender.

You scowled. “And that’s top priority. Look, I know everything that I need to. Everything that comes out of your mouth is only fueling the fire of my frustration and anger towards you. Please stop and leave me the fuck alone.”

“I refuse to, because I love you.”

You rolled your eyes. It was the same line, over and over. You wouldn’t buy it. You had dignity, and you wouldn’t sell it to anyone. “I don’t love you anymore. So please, for the love of God, just let me go.”

Oscar froze. “Please don’t say that, Y/N.”

“It’s the truth,” you confirmed. Guilt swarmed your gut at his expression, but you pushed it back. “Goodbye, Oscar.”

“No, no, no. I’m not saying goodbye.” When you started walking, he followed you, tugging on your arm to get you to stop.

“Leave me alone, Oscar!” You yelled, your composure finally breaking. Tears fell down your face like a waterfall, and all the sorrow you suppressed came towering over you as if it were a tidal wave. “Leave. Me. Alone!”

A few more passersby glanced over at you, noticing the quarrel. No one intercepted, but a teenager wearing a Red Bull jersey pulled out their phone and started recording, obviously recognizing Oscar.

“Y/N, please,” he whined. “One more chance. Please.”

“No. Stop making a scene,” you demanded furiously.

“I’ll get even louder if that’s what it takes for you to come back to me. I need you,” he said. “I need us.”

“The only thing you need is another shiny trophy in your showcase, and I’m not going to be that.” You avoided his imploring gaze. “Please respect my boundaries and leave me alone. You owe me that.”

Oscar hesitated, a war raging on behind those stunning amber eyes of his, until he eventually surrendered. “Fine. If this is what you want.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, relief swallowing you whole.

“I’ll see you around, then?” he asked, stepping into your line of view and forcing you to look at him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyebrows knitted in concern. His brown hair, the same curls you loved tugging playfully, was blowing in the soft wind.

You wanted to commit him to memory. Leave Oscar in the past.

“Maybe. Goodbye, Oscar.” You gave him a wan smile, wiping away your tears and urging yourself to stay strong.

Maybe in another universe you would have cared more about your loved one that believed you were a god amongst mortals than a multimillion dollar car that drove in circles.

Maybe in another universe our bond would have been nurtured and cultivated instead of smothered and ignored.

Maybe in another universe I still would be yours, Oscar.

the end!

note: help… i’m crying. 🥲 i promise pt.2 is on the way soon! hope you all enjoyed reading that, and sorry if there were any tears. <3

[pixarchan]

You know, putting everything on retrospective it makes a lotta sense, both Moana and Maui have this uncertainty about what the future holds for them especially with Moana’s new status as a demigoddess, on one hand Moana has her struggles with being immortal (which btw I don’t think she is 100% a full demigoddess, at least not yet) this fear of outlive her people, her family and especially Simea will be like a punch in the gut for her and she doesn’t wanna go through that pain but she doesn’t wanna leave Maui alone either because she knows what he’s been through so much pain in his lifetime and she can’t help but be pulled in 2 different ways.

On the other hand this whole situation hits Maui too, knowing that now Moana is a demigoddess he can’t help but be thrilled about it ‘cuz it means he won’t be alone anymore, that the only person he cares about more than anything will be by his side, helping people, facing monsters, living so many adventures together, but he also knows how much her people and her family means to Moana and how much it would affect her when she had to see them die while she remains alive, so he doesn’t want her to go through the same pain he has.

Now some people would call this selfish in both sides, I just see 2 people debating between their own desires and what it’s the right thing to do, as you said in the third film there’ll a part when they’ll this huge argument, fighting over what they have to do, what they want, the fact that they don’t wanna hurt each other to the point either of they will end up saying “that’s enough if we can’t make this work then the best thing is to stop being friends and go on separate ways”, that’s why Maui didn’t visit Moana for the last 3 years ‘cuz he didn’t want get attached with Moana more than he already was, and the fear of losing her again would shatter him, and even tho Moana wants Maui to be part of Motunui and her community with all his demigod responsibilities she knows he can’t stay forever and she knows she can’t force him to stay just because she wants to 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔.

Jojojoooooooo you guys are right, this goes for fanfiction material 😂😂😂😂😂.

moana being immortal now really fucks me up like you're telling me she's going to watch simea grow up and older than her? I'm supposed to be normal about the fact that moana will never return to the sea, to her ancestors, the way everyone she knows and loves will? you mean to say that someday maui will be her only companion, the only one in her life who won't grow old and die? am i understanding correctly that death, originally her biggest obstacle, is now just pretty much off the table for her?

[petalsonmoon]

one touch but you felt enough... you are in love.

(writing so i don’t think about the manga. for the wellness of my mental health. thank you for reading <3)

there's this thing shouto does

it's all too fresh. you can't even tell what you guys are.

shoto is a very sincere yet blank person. you can't read in his expression what he's feeling nor can you interpret his little actions. but if you ask him what he thinks about something he’ll express his opinion in the most clear and gentle way possible.

the course to what you both are now it's werdly cute. you noticed this little something he did because, well, who didn't notice the presence of shouto todoroki? he's the personification of kindness and quietude and tranquility. turns out these definitions created the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

and by noticing the details you noticed the overall and by doing that you two ended up getting closer and closer. you could rely on him to come to your dorm to tell you dinner was ready and be right there by your side during it and you would find him during his training or studing sessions to give him a water bottle. you would’ve thought that with a quirk like that he'd remember to drink it, right? he didn't.

you two would find easement in each others patience and honesty. it's actually being there for each other and not jumping any steps and boundaries that made you two unintentionally friends.

so on third year todoroki, being his straghforwardly serene person that he was, appeared in your dorm and cofessed to you how he had an affection for you for quite some time now, how much your time together was heightening to being the most comfortable he's been with someone and asked you if you wanted to stay by his side from now on.

those were his words. like, c'mon.

so you said yes. that you very much feel much calmer in his presence and would be absolutely happy to be by his side.

that was 2 weeks ago.

since then you noticed this little thing he did.

which is funny, to perceive a slight action from someone whose words were his main character.

and you wait for it to happen at least three times before saying anything.

right now you were in the communal space, sitting in the sofa while your remaining colleagues were still stretching after a 2 hour movie and chatting the plot away,

it was summer so the air conditioner was on. a few glasses with only ice could be found on the coffee table.

you were next to shoto, by his right, smuggled between him and furniture’s arm. you turn to look at him and gets irritated how his profile is so fucking powerful.

“do you like fantasy movies?” you whisper to him. he thinks about it for a moment.

“i like them” he replies, gazing down at his hands. “but they’re not my preference.”

“and what would that be?” you start fidgeting with your fingers, very slighly.

he takes a deep breath and squint his eyes for a second. he turns his eyes to you and you have to seriously fight your lungs to not hold it’s breath just because your heat leaped a beat.

“romcoms.” he says under his breath, expression clearly blank.

you pinched your lips trying not to let the chuckle escape. it makes sense, actually.

“can i ask why?”

“they’re very entertaning.” he comteplates softly “not too much going on but you can always have a great time and even a good laugh.”

he finishes his thought and looks away, satisfied. you can’t help but feel your body sink in fondness.

“that’s true. they’re always nice.” you reply.

“what about you?”

“my favorite genre?”

he nods and looks at you again.

“i would say...” you look down and think how you’d already know the answer. would he think less of you for being too different from his likes? “drama? with a bit of suspense in it?”

he nods in response and you don’t feel his eyes on your face anymore. you’re both looking at your hands.

“it makes sense.” he concludes after a moment and you look up at him, intrigued. “they’re always very interesting.”

you let the little smile in your mouth win and checks around discretely, after seeing only a few people far in the kitchen you leave a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

the little smile also make an appearance on his face for a millisecond.

 “i also really like animation.” you say.

his eyebrows go up for a second. “yes, some of them are really impressive.”

“they have a way to make hugs so beautiful and comforting...” you let it out before even thinking. that’s just how comforting it was being with him.

“oh. the studio ghibli embraces, isn’t it?” he completes.

“yes! it’s really profound somehow and sometimes a hug like that is all you need.” you look away and shiver. it is hot but you did not go well with air conditioners. the temperature people tend to feel content at usually was the same one where you needed to be in a hoodie. but that was a unimportant fact that would die with you.

“hm” he replies “i think princess mononoke is my favorite one...”

“it makes sense.”

he turns to you once again, expressionless. “does it?”

“uhum.” you feel your body shivering again “it’s very humane and important...”

“what else?” he whisper.

“and emotional and romantic... it’s perfect, really.” you hold his gaze, already wanting to stay there forever.

and then he does it.

right when you conclude your description you feel his fingertips slowly touching yours with such tenderness and delicacy you’d almost miss it, if you didn’t also automatically felt your body warming up to the exact condition for you to feel perfectly comfortable.

“oh, shouto...” you let it escape, feeling like you could cry. you didn’t say a word about your issue but he noticed. he noticed you.

he interlocks your fingers and takes your knuckles to his mouth, placing a warm and short kiss there.

“it seems to me that it’s your favorite movie too.”

you move your free hand and position it in the back of his head, your fingers starts moving sweetly and he closes his eyes.

you take the opportunity to kiss him. he immediately responds and kisses you completely. his kiss is slow and patient and sure and you feel yourself melting in your feelings for him. your hand on his head makes sure to intensify the kiss and shoto lets a delicious and lovely sound escape his throat.

you pull back for a second. “i’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

his eyebrowls furrowing and his eyes sparkling.

“like i’m in a romcom.”

[earlycuntsets]

06/11/2004 equal music interview with gerard by danielle moskowitz

"When Warner Brothers/Reprise invited me to come talk with Gerard from My Chemical Romance about their new album at their record release show, how could I have refused?

The show was in their home state of NJ, packed with 1300 cheering fans. What made the show even cooler for me was featured artist, Nightmare of You was on the bill too! (NOY is still currently unsigned and have been playing with My Chem. Good for them!) I love when Equal Music bands get together!

Is their latest apart of a trilogy? Front man Gerard explains. He also reveals what why it didn't turn out to be the concept record they had planned it to be and what are they doing in Tokyo with The Beastie Boys? (Original interview from Oct. 31, 2003 follows this latest one from June)

DM: When we spoke last you guys were shopping for a producer. Who did you wind up working with and why?

Gerard: We wound up working with Howard Benson. A big reason was because he contacted us which is always very exciting. He was very enthusiastic about the project. It's not so much that he got what world we came from because he's worked with bands like P.O.D. and Blindside which is a completely different universe but he got what we were trying to do with the music and so we connected on a lot of levels.

DM: How was this experience different from working with Alex (Eyeball Records) and Geoff (Thursday [Island/Def Jam]) front man?

Gerard: That whole experience was hanging with friends and having a really fun time. There wasn't a lot of money or pressure. But then this experience didn't have that much pressure either which was weird. It was very a positive experience that had a really good flow. But yeah it was very different.

DM: You said in October that while you were finishing the first record you knew what you wanted the second one to be called (which is their latest, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge) and at the time since you knew the name for the second one you had an idea for what you wanted the third record to be called, although there's not going to be a trilogy so how do you know? Where's the connection with that?

Gerard: It's the kind of connection where you kind of always have a sense of what you're band is doing and where it's headed. I think we have a good idea of kind of like what the first record should be.It should be fast and dirty and cheap. Then the second one you really up the ante and really go for it with this one. The third one you try to explore new avenues. We ended up doing a lot of that on this record. We actually ended up being way more experiemantal than we thought we were going to be. It sounded good to us so we said let's keep doing it.

DM: To jump ahead, do you know what the next one's going to be called?

Gerard: From this experience I learned I shouldn't do that anymore because it locks you into something. And this record wound up being half a concept record because so much happened in our lives that when it came time to write lyrics I found out that it was less ficiton and more fact. So it's a very loose concept record. I want to see what happens for the third one and actually not plan anything out. I think that will be interesting because- it's not that we're calculated but we always kind of know where we're headed and kind of vibe on it. For the next one I kind of don't want to have that.

DM: What kind of mood do you feel like the new album has?

Gerard: I just started listening to it as a piece now, not just bits here and there it's really about loss. The first record was more about pain, misery and agression and violence. Although the lyrics can be disturbing at points, it's really about loss. In the end that's what it wound up being more about instead of some story. You can pick it out of at least four or five of the songs. Even the performances that everyone gives too makes it feel like it's really about loss.

DM: Do you feel like it's dark?

Gerard: Yeah. It's already been called that by a lot of people. We got a parental advisory without even having more than one curse in it. I think it's dark but I think it's a lot more positive than the first record.

DM: Yeah, I remember you saying that you felt the ups were going to be more up and the downs more down.

Gerard: Yeah and they really ended up being like that. But, there's definitely more moments of positivity and celebration than on the first record.

DM: What are some of difference of working with an indie and working with a major?

Gerard: This record was really painless so I can't truthfully answer that as a band that's in our position. We are really rare case of-- it was very similar to the first record where we did exactly what we wanted and luckily because they knew who we were when they signed us that's exactly what they wanted. There wasn't much of a difference other than the fact that there was obviously a lot more deadlines and a lot more pressure to get things done on time. That was the big difference but that was actually it.

DM: You're going to Tokyo soon for Summer Sonic Fest. You must be excited.

Gerard:Yeah, it's awesome, we get to play with The Beastie Boys and I've never seen them.

DM: What's going on for you guys for the rest of the year?

Gerard: Pretty much straight touring till the record cycle is over. It's usually about eighteen months from the time you start a record until you're done touring on it and should be starting a new one. There's already stuff I really want to write. I want to start immediately. As soon as we finished this I wanted to just do another. We're very much a live band but at the same time you get in the studio and you remember you're very much all songwriters and we had forgotten that part of us. I'm still in that head fix where I want to write more songs.

DM: Maybe you can still do that while you're on the road.

Gerard: Yeah, we plan to do it on Warped Tour. It will be our first time really on a bus so we're going to have more space and we'll be comfortable. Right ater that we're going back to a van so Warped Tour is really going to be the time that we write.

danielle moskowitz october 31, 2003 (2nd interview below)

Juxtaposing raw vocals and a punk edge against riffs suddenly gone melodic, My Chemical Romance takes you from upbeat drumming in one measure to a moment where you find yourself lost in slow, somber guitars the next. Listen closely as their vocalist Gerard reveals glimpses of himself through his brutally honest lyrics that hold traces of darkness around them.

DM: The bands success seems to have come very quickly. How long were you a band before signing to Eyeball Records?

Gerard: Let’s see—January is when we started playing as a band. We signed around our third or fourth show. It’s been quick since the beginning.

DM: What were you doing with your lives before the band took off?

Gerard: I was doing animation in the city [New York]. I was actually doing toy design in Hoboken [New Jersey], and Frankie was going to school, Mikey was going to school, Otter was a mechanic, and Ray was delivering film I believe and interning and stuff like that for film. We all just weren’t happy doing what we were doing, ya know?

DM: Geoff from the band Thursday and Alex from Eyeball [Records] I know played a big part in the recording of your last CD.

Gerard: Yeah, definitely.

DM: Are they going to be playing any part on your CD that will be coming out?

Gerard: I don’t think so. Sometimes you want to use the same people sometimes you want to see what would happen with other people. I’m sure they’ll hear it and we’ll ask their opinions.

DM: So they’re not going to help produce?

Gerard: Nah.

DM: What made you guys decide that a major was the next best move?

Gerard: It was one of those things where everything else was moving really fast but we had been able to keep up with it, ya know? We had been able to keep up with the shows that we were getting which were like going from playing basements to playing in front of 10,000 people with Jimmy Eat World. So it went from that to that, and it seemed like a very natural progression. And although a lot of people think it seemed quick, all that talk and all that nonsense was happening before our record even came out. It was like, we basically not fought them off, but said hey we’re going to be a band and do that, ya know? And then when we’re ready…Actually it was a lot longer process than most bands that are getting signed today.

DM: What made Reprise the best label for you guys?

Gerard: It was the best company. They were very familiar with us. We had a lot of fans at the company before we had signed. We had a lot of people helping out before we had signed.

DM: And they understand where you guys wanted to go musically, as a band?

Gerard: Yeah, exactly. That was the big thing. They knew where we wanted to go, they knew how we wanted to do things, and they were going to let us do it our way. Very low pressure type thing. Just kind of let us be us and you distribute us.

DM: When is the new album due out?

Gerard: We’re hoping it will come out in about in about spring. We’re going to record in January. We don’t have a producer yet. We’re looking at a few people and they’re looking at us. So it’s kind of that whole game right now.

DM: Do you have a title yet?

Gerard: Yeah, it’s called Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. And it was a title that… we pretty much known the title for the first record before it was finished and as soon as we were done with that I kind of knew what I wanted the title to be for the second. So it’s kind of in the process where I kind of know what I want the third to be too.

DM: Is it a trilogy type thing?

Gerard: No. This one’s different from the last and it’s more fictitious, but it’s still heartfelt. And it’s more of a concept record than the last one, where the last one was more of an autobiography. But the next one’s more of a concept album about a person; the next one after that I don’t what know what it will be.

DM: While you guys have been on tour you’ve been playing new songs live and they seem to be heavier. Would you say that is the direction you guys are going in?

Gerard: Well, yeah. The heavier stuffs heavier. The heavy stuff we did before is definitely heavier now. Those same elements are there; we’re just spending a little more time on the heavy stuff. But at the same time I think there’s way more melody. Maybe not in the stuff we’re playing out live, but it’s more violently happy. But it’s also very ironically bleak ya know, as far as tone goes.

DM: Track seven on your CD [I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] is called Skylines and Turnstiles. Is it true that it was inspired by September 11?

Gerard: Yeah, and in fact that event happening was a big thing about why we started the band because, I was on my to a meeting with Cartoon Network and then that happened and I was like what the fuck am I doing with my life.

DM: You saw it happen? You were in the city?

Gerard: Yeah, I was in Hoboken, on the way there. I was right across the river and I was on my way in right around that, very close to that area, but more around Canal, and I was like what the fuck am I doing?

DM: It made you feel like life’s too short and you need to go for what you want?

Gerard: Yeah, yeah exactly. Like obviously life is way too short, you don’t know when your numbers coming and I also felt like I wasn’t making a difference at all, ya know what I mean?

DM: There are a couple theories circulating about your repeated mention of vampires in your lyrics. Can you clear that up?

Gerard: It’s a metaphor for being in your twenties and getting sucked into that singles, alcoholic nightlife culture, ya know what I mean? It’s interesting, because you’ll find that a lot of bands use the supernatural as a gimmick, and that’s really all it is, it’s just like horror punk, and that’s all it is. We’re not really into vampires. I like to wear black, but…

Contact Danielle@equalmusic.com for more about My Chemical Romance. Check them out on select Warped Tour Dates later this year

[directdogman]

Hi, I hope this isn't a bother. I'm trying to make a dating sim and want to have a section where the player inputs their pronouns (like you gave the option to in Dial Town). Despite my hours of effort though, I can't figure out how to do it. I'm using Visual Novel Machinery for Unreal Engine (because Unreal is required for the class I'm making this for). Even if you aren't familiar with it though, just the basic 'pull code from here and input there' would be so helpful. I'm sure I can piece it together in a way Unreal will understand with a bit of help. Legit though, I made unreal crash twice when I tried to run the initial code for it, so I'm at a loss. Side note: Your games are so awesome and a big part of why I want to make a dating sim to begin with. I wish you all the peace and love on planet earth!

Hello hello:

The trick is using a string for every instance of a pronoun in player dialogue (which is just a variable set of letters.) They, them, their, theirs, etc. Be careful when you set the system up as some pronouns don't conjugate for all cases. For instance, their and theirs are separate words, as are her/hers, but his uses the same word for both pronouns.

You also have to account for case too. This is how I set it up (this is all done right when the pronoun is first entered btw):

1)let the user input a pronoun for each option. each pronoun is a different string, one for each pronoun type (you'll see my list below)

2)i then use a script command right after that to turn all of the pronoun strings entered to lower case. This is account for players possibly capitalizing the first letter in the pronoun instinctively. IE: characters won't say: "Hey, where's He going?" instead of "he going?", which is correct.

How you convert to lowercase is different for each programming language, but I bet there's an equivalent command in UE.

3)Then I copy each pronoun twice, essentially creating two duplicates for each lower case pronoun (so there's now 3 identical pronouns for her, three for hers, etc.)

4)For the second set, I run a command that capitalizes the first and only first letter of each separately (this is useful for if a sentence starts with a pronoun, meaning the first letter would be upper case in that sentence. EG: His cowboy hat looks RIDICULOUS.)

5)for the third set, i then turn the whole string upper case. this is useful for if a character speaks in all caps or if the character is shouting/emphasizing. (EG: "Where's HE going?!")

At the end, this is what my list of strings looks like, hopefully helping you visualize what I've done:

Then, when a pronoun is referenced in dialogue, I use the string that matches the correct version of the pronoun I need. So for he, i use #6 normally, #12 if it's the start of a sentence and #18 if the character is shouting. it's good to keep a list like this handy so you don't have to go looking every time you write dialogue.

The big other thing to watch out for is how plural pronouns affect verbs. He and she IS, but they ARE. I have the player tell the game whether or not their pronoun of choice is plural after they're entered it in and then simply load two separate versions of each sentence with one set for ises and one for ares.

You can also make some more blank name variables to use for verbs and have the game check if the pronoun's plural and then reference a string like with the pronouns (ie, having a string for is that changes to are if plural and using that in dialogue.) Both solutions generally work and I use both for different situations in dialogue.

Beyond that, I can't really give any engine specific advice, but this is how I do it. Best of luck with your game! :)

[foreverromanticising]

something, somehow, someday

1.9k words of idiots in love

lando norris x f!reader

(this is kind of rllly bad bc i need to get back into fanfic writing - im a veteran but its been a while! requests open pls send whatever!)

Friday nights always followed the same routine for Lando, he was playing chaueffer. Well, the Friday nights he had off from being Lando Norris Formula 1 Driver. More often than not, he found himself driving around Monaco, playing pick up from different bars with his girl and her friends. 

Calling her ‘his girl’ was loosely strung, she wasn’t his girlfriend by any means, but simply calling her a friend seemed unjust. It didn’t pay any justice to their connection; best friends also seemed far too juvenile for they never knew each other in their childhood years, when the term best friend perhaps would’ve suited them. 

No, they met much later in their lives, Lando’s second or third season in Formula 1, and she just happened to know a friend of a friend, which ended in the two at the same party at the same time. Typical and cliche, they knew it, but they both preferred having an organic story to tell of their meeting rather than having to admit their connection was found on some online algorithm. 

However, it wasn’t that many people asked for their meeting story as they were just friends, plain and simple - asking two friends how they met didn’t hold the same importance as it did for asking a couple. 

Yes, they were friends, if their relationship had to be labelled but in a sweet and sticky sense of friendship. They weren’t friends in the way Max and Lando were friends; a relationship consisting of streaming, gaming, and very platonic activities that would be expected of two friends. Their friendship was abnormal to outsiders but it made perfect sense for them, and why should they listen to anyone else’s opinions?

Lando never found himself waking up with any of his other friends head’s on his bare chest, but with his girl it made perfect sense. The Monaco sun peering through the windows, illuminating highlights within her hair against his tan chest, his arm tightly wound around her waist, and both of their bodies pressed into one side of the bed, despite its huge size. 

This was their normal; they had drawn an invisible line between their friendship and something more, they never dared to cross it but the line definitely grew to become blurrier as time went on.

Hence why, Lando continually found himself in a parked car outside of whatever bar or club she chose to spend her Friday night. He claims he would do this for any friend that would ask him to, he cared about how his friends would make it home, but she had never once asked to be picked up, rather he always offered.

On the outside, Lando made it clear he cared about her making it home safely, there was no reason for her to pay for a taxi when he was happy and available to take her home - a firm believer his driving was far safer than any taxi driver. But, there was a miniscule part inside his beating heart that knew it was more than just her safety. He liked picking her up because it meant she would go home with him.

Him and no one else.

“You’re sure your friends don’t need a lift too?” Lando waited to pull away from the bar until he had a definite answer; just because he was picking up his girl didn’t mean he was going to leave her friends stranded - his offers always extended to whoever she was out with. “You know I’d rather take them than a taxi.”

“I know, Lan, but Alex’s boyfriend’s on his way anyway,” Your lifted your head off of his car window to look over at Lando, sincerity laced within your words. “They’re all gonna stay at her place, it’s just easier.”

“Do you want me to drop you at Alex’s?” He hadn’t known the night out was extending into a girls night, feeling almost guilty for wanting you in his bed, his arms, rather than with your own friends. “You wanna spend the night there?”

“No,’ You let the word drag out, trying to bite back the grin that was threatening to spill over your lips. Unbeknownst to Lando, you wanted to end the night in his arms just as much as he did. “I’m tired and I think I’m done socialising for tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Just back to yours, then?” He had to actively keep his face from allowing a frown to take over after hearing your wish to no longer socialise, he had only assumed this Friday night would be the same as all the others but it appeared you had other plans.

“I mean, it’s kinda out of the way now, isn’t it?” You looked at the street whipping by you, trying to feign nonchalance over the thought of heading back to Lando’s. “Your place is probably easier.”

“Thought you didn’t want to socialise with anyone else tonight.” Lando was also trying to act nonchalant, like he didn’t care, like he hadn’t thought about this Friday night tradition ever since you had woken up in his arms last Saturday morning.

“Yeah but you don’t count.” A smile tugged at your lips as your social battery for others may have been used up, you didn’t think it could ever run out when it came to Lando. You didn’t have to play pretend, or use up much energy around him, if anything he rechargred your batteries. A night with him was exactly what you needed.

He knew exactly what you meant. You two didn’t have to even speak when you were around each other. Comfortable silence was enough to maintain your friendship.

Once Lando had parked his car, you made your way to his apartment, in that comfortable silence you had been craving. This silence followed both of you in the elevator, as he unlocked his front door, as you made your way to your respective drawer in his bedroom to find something to wear to bed, until he found you brushing your teeth and chose to join you. 

It was an image of domesticity; an old quadrant shirt of his draped over your body paired alongside a pair of his basketball shorts, your skincare lining his bathroom counter, your bodies pressed against one another - shoulder to shoulder, just as your pink and blue toothbrushes stood in their holder beside the sink. 

“What’s your plans for tomorrow?” Lando spoke through a mouthful of toothpaste, as thought his question couldn’t wait the two minutes. You poked your elbow into his ribs to shut him up until you had finished brushing your teeth.

“Not sure yet, the girls wanna go for brunch but nothing’s set in stone yet,” You looked at him through his bathroom mirror. “Why? What’re you scheming?”

“Just wondering,” He shrugged his shoulders then turned on his heel, making his way to his bedroom - prompting you to follow him. “Wondering if you wanna come play padel with me and Max tomorrow morning.” 

You watched as he peeled back the covers on his bed, placing an extra pillow onto your unassigned side of the bed because he knew you liked more pillows tha he did. “I think I’ll pass, that sounds sort of hellish to me.” Athletics had never been your thing, never one to actively participate in games, and whilst you loved Max you thought it was best to leave him and Lando their own time without you imposing - though, Lando would insist you could never impose.

“Yeah, that’s alright. Probably good to see him before the double header kicks in,” Lando climbed into his bed, arms open for you to crawl into as he was wasted no time in wanting to hold you close. “You’re still coming to Belguim, yeah?” Hints of uncertainty could be found within his voice, though he tried to hide it, he couldn’t help it. He wanted you there, cheering him on from the sidelines, because he wasn’t sure he could get through the next few races without that light at the end of the tunnel.

“Yeah ‘course.” You didn’t have to give it a second thought; you had already decided after a phone call with his mother, but it must’ve slipped your mind to tell Lando himself. You were more focused on making yourself comfortable against his body, your head taking its him on his chest as his fingertips danced along the sliver of skin that was shown from the way your legs tangled with his under the covers.

Night soond turned into morning, Lando’s alarm blaring through his phone, making him regret any decision to play padel as he felt your body intertwined with his. He had to fight every urge to cancel his plans for the day and instead keep you in his bed, wrapped up in his clothes and his arms and his bedsheets. Would it be too much to ask you to spend another night within seconds of his eyes opening? Perhaps, but he couldn’t bear the thought of spending his nights alone for the next two weeks. 

He had two separate hotel rooms booked for Belgium but he knew that, inevitably, either one of you would cave and pad your away across the hotel to the other hotel room, desperate for the comfort of laying beside one another.

Instead of dwelling on such thoughts, he forced himself to get up for the day, leaving you to rest in his bed whilst he headed out to padel. Not before sending you a quick text to wake up to:

Lan<3

Hey, just headed to padel with Max

I’ll be two hours at most and 

I’ll come home with breakfast

Stay put pretty girl

“Who are you texting?” Max asked as Lando climbed into his car, trying to peer over to see his phone screen but remaining unsuccessful as it was pulled out of his vision.

“No one, you nosey bastard.” Lando turned his phone off, begrudgingly so, and put it into his pocket.

“I know it’s her, don’t play daft,” Max knew everything about Lando and his girl, even if they were too blind to see it. “I know she’s in your bed right now, and I know you’re late ‘cause of it.”

Max knew they were meant to be, even if they didn’t, he knew it - they were taking their time in getting there, in realising that was even a possibility for the two of them. Something pulled them together, somehow they would realise it, and someday they would end up together.

Even if Lando claimed his career was too much for her to handle, only allowing himself short flings with girls that didn’t matter to him, instead of a fulfilling relationship - Max knew she would be able to handle the ins and outs of Lando’s world; she knew how to ground him after a win when his ego allowed him to feel like he was on top of the world, but she also knew how to calm him down when he came to her door upset after a race.

Max didn’t buy into her claims that Lando wouldn’t be with her because their worlds were too different, he knew that was what he wanted. He didn’t want someone who stuck around for his titles and fame, he wanted a welcome sign and a plane ride home.

But Max would never intrude on fate, he was letting them be. They were meant to be, he knew it as well as everyone around them, but he was letting fate run its course for the result would be far more fulfilling than if he meddled with the two sides of the same story he was continually being told. 

[pixarchan]

So that’s what the song means, it’s a prayer, a prayer for Moana to get back to Maui one more time and in retrospective it makes a lotta sense.

Just like you said all his life he’s done nothing more than living in a rebellious lifestyle, tricking both gods and humans for out of fun or for something else, and even tho he was raised by the gods they can’t actually be considered as his family ‘cuz somehow he grew up to be self sufficient enough to take care of himself, and out of the love and appreciation he craves for he shows this stoic man who’s is not afraid of anything and anyone, he cups his own feelings up so he doesn’t look weak in the eyes of everyone, like he was trying to prove himself and everyone he’s worthy of their love, a love that was denied by his own parents, this man really needs therapy ASAP.

And for the first time in his 3000 he showed his true colors to a young mortal girl who taught him that sometimes it’s ok not being ok, that if you keep bottling up your emotions you’ll end up hurting yourself, and in that moment Maui let himself be vulnerable, he let all his emotions flow freely and opened up his heart to Moana, even tho he expected her to understand him she actually did, she gave him empathy and didn’t judge him for his actions, she just simply listened and allowed to see a side of his that barely no one knows, she even offered him a shoulder to lean on even if he didn’t ask for it, just like Klaus said “A true act of kindness always leads to another” Moana’s kindness and compassion showed him that being vulnerable doesn’t make you weaker, it makes you even stronger than ever.

Being strong doesn’t mean you are invincible, Maui spent all his life trying get the approval from everyone and he gained a true friend but at the cost of one day he’ll have to see her die, another thing he tried to avoid in his inmortal life the fear to get so attached to her that the mare idea of watching her die would just devastate him so he would rather die than living another 3000 years without her.

And well, the inevitable happened and all his world shattered in pieces while he holds Moana’s lifeless body in his arms, he didn’t care about his hook, his tattoos or whether is a demigod or not the only person he loved and cared about more than his own life was gone and the desperation and grief made him crumble, so he did the last thing he never thought he would, HE PRAYED he prayed for her to save her, he never asked anything from the gods, humans or even the ocean, but he hoped for someone to listen to his prayer, and when Matai Vasa and all his ancestors (including Tala) showed up he and Tala looked through his eyes and I would swear they silently asked Maui what he would be willing to sacrifice for Moana, eyes say more than words and he answered back with tears in his eyes saying “I’ll give you anything you want, my hook, my power, my immortality, I’ll give my own life if it’s necessary but please save her”, said and done they brought Moana back to life and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Maui and that fire in his eyes were back one more time now that the woman he loves is alive safe and sound 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹.

You know, it would’ve been amazing if Disney had at least made Maui kiss Moana’s forehead or even her hand during the Mana Vavau, that would’ve made worth our while but I’m pretty sure they know what they’re doing and I hope so, if I didn’t lose my hopes for Moana and Maui in these 8 years since Moana 1 was released, now more than ever I‘ll hold onto that hope until the third one and if I have to wait another 8 years for it, then it’ll worth it 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰.

Big Moana 2 Spoilers ahead. Beyond the cut is the Samoan to english translation of maui's 2nd song for moana. (And the context it appears in)

ladies and gents of the moana fandom, thanks to the effort of samoan speaker @yuki685 on youtube, and my buddy @rykierykerman for hooking me up with the text and screenshots

what i'd like to discuss with yall today is not only sharing the translation for this song, but some of the character implication this has for maui, especially when you look at how his OG legends depict him.

LYRICS:

(Maui singing in Samoan):

Aue, aue, le faigata / Aue, aue, how difficult it is

Ua pa'ū fa'anoanoa / Falling into sadness

Aue, aue, fa'ataga ola / Aue, aue, please allow this life to continue

Lenā La'u talosaga / This is my prayer

---

(E manu malo) / May there be blessings

(Opataia Foa'i and Te Vaka singing in Tokelauan)

Tele tele mana e o te vavau (Vavau) / Great, great power of mana

Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

---

(Grandma Tala)

Aue, aue, mana e o te vavau / Aue, aue, the power of mana

Tau ke tu ke Manumalo / Fight, stand tall and be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

Ke Manumalo / Be victorious

_____

The piece that made me flip my shit when I read it was the confirmation that this song is a PRAYER

when I first heard this song before the movie I assumed it was a funeral rite. a dirge, followed by a choral revival. during the film, when maui and then the ancestors sang it over moana's lifeless body and I had no subtitles to go on, I thought perhaps it was a spell, or maybe a lullaby from Maui's far distant past, then taken up by the ancestors as a comfort to the grieving Maui- then back to the spell theory as Moana awoke to the powerful music and emotion channeled by tala and her crew.

even my first google translate search of the lyrics missed the word prayer, which goes to show that AI translation is no match for native human insight.

Maui's song being a prayer is a friggin big deal.

Maui's stories span the width & breadth of the pacific islands, and each culture arising from those island tells variations on that legend. some emphasize his rebellious side, others his inventiveness, still others his drive, his humor, his ingenuity, his pride. But a common theme in most is that this man, this demigod- he does NOT get along with the majority of his ancestors or the gods. Even when he's not outright malevolent to them, he's tricking them or undermining their effort. He's usually stubbornly self-sufficient, if he gets help from someone divine, its usually because he tricked them into doing it. Maui does not beg, he does not plead. (at least, not with any lasting sincerity). he's a charmer, a schemer.

But here he is, his tattoos stripped away, his hook gone, his beloved Moana growing colder and colder- he's out of tricks. he's out of time, out of power. he's as helpless as the day he was thrown into the ocean to save her. rock bottom, figuratively and literally.

he does the absolute last thing he can, born of pure desperation. pure grief, pure need. He prays.

he prays not expecting an answer. he prays, knowing that the gods and all his family would relish the chance to tell him to fuck all the way off. he prays, even if to no one but moana's lifeless body.

i often joke that maui is bad at feelings. but really what i mean is that maui is bad at regulating his feelings. he represses them as hard as he can, denies them, wraps them in humor and when that fails he straight up tries to out run them. its a maladaptive coping skill he's had to pick up over his immortal 3000 year lifespan because otherwise, he'd be wallowing in endless grief as friend after friend either dies or lives long enough to become his antagonist. boy has some serious trauma built up and no good examples of how to handle it in a healthy way.

until moana.

moana provided an example of how to be vulnerable without being weak. a safe space where he could share his heart and be met with understanding and validation. we see him mature, even fractionally, and in the sequel he's not nearly so closed off. he worries openly about moana, admits his concerns about the mission, even returns moana's favor from the first film and gives her a sincere, supportive pep talk.

but all his progress in processing his emotions seems to backfire in this moment. the first time he'd opened his heart to a fragile mortal friend and here he is, exactly as he feared, devastated at her passing. He had invested real time and care and attachment into this human and he's utterly shattered that its all coming to an end so fast. that he'll never experience her voice or her smile or her wit ever again.

she's precious to him. he cant bear to lose her. his sadness in more crushing than the ocean he's surrounded by, denser than the rock he kneels upon. even if he got his powers back, even if he pulled up a million islands, if Moana isn't there to land on them...there's no point.

less than 10 minutes ago he was ready to die for her.

3 minutes ago in movie time, maui faced his own mortality. powers stripped bare, down to his last ounce of strength, frying in impossible lightning heat, he kept struggling. the first look he gives moana is fear, raw and unfamiliar on that handsome face. but in this penultimate moment, his eyes meet moana's. his grimace gentles, eyebrows lift, gaze softens into a regretful, heart melting smile. he finds small comfort in seeing moana for one last time, seeing her unhurt, hearing her call his name. the rope slips from his grip, and somewhere in the milliseconds between lightning flashes, he relaxes, relief skitters across his features. perhaps he thinks "ahh, at least she's ok." "at least she'll outlive me". perhaps he has a moment of acceptance for his fate, knowing she's proud of him, knowing he did his very best. maybe he thinks ,"this way ill be sure to meet her again, in the afterlife. its for the best."

or maybe, just maybe, he thinks

"see you out there, moana."

but now, 3 minutes later, its once again the worst case scenario. any relief he had in that last smile at her is obliterated in the wake of his grief. its once again the worst case scenario. he's not thinking now of the curse being broken or his hook or his tattoos. a world that she's not in, whether he be human or demigod, is not a world he can stand to exist in. he cant do this without her. he needs her.

so he digs deep inside himself, through the pain or losing her, through his own family trauma and antagonism towards authority, and pride, to beg, on his knees for help from a higher power. its unclear to us if he's intending to pray to the gods or to his own ancestors or both or neither. to anyone who can help. to anyone who will listen.

and its neither of those sources who answer, at least, not as directly as matai vasa or tala do. its moana's kin, her loved ones, (eventually including the ocean), who answer from the great beyond. he looks them in the eyes and they weep with him. they sing power over moana and the impossible happens.

(salacious handholding occurs)

the stars are put back in maui's eyes, the sun back into his sky.

does this mean...

yes.

his tattoos are still cooler than hers.

even when theyre mad at him. (same, little guy, same.)

bruh.

now kiss