#kinda funny how they have to say what they’ve said to each other again for the mini movie but ok i guess they get to reminisce

[loveinhawkins]

Robin’s always had a soft spot for Eddie Munson, but up until recently it had been in a distant kind of way; she appreciated his class clown act, the way it had a domino effect of keeping the heat off the band kids, how he hogged the spotlight for any passing douchebag’s attention.

But then they both literally dive into The Upside Down, and her appreciation reaches a whole new level.

They’re in the Wheeler’s garage, thanking their lucky stars that four bikes exist in 1983 (and yeah, Robin’s sure that if she thinks about the whole time thing for half a second more her brain will promptly melt, so she doesn’t).

Each of them are pushing their chosen bike down the driveway, in a dazed sort of silence—the high of the Lite-Brite worn off in the face of another grim journey through The Upside Down.

Steve is flagging, Robin can hear it: his breathing’s growing laboured as he walks, an occasional unsteadiness to him that’s setting her anxiety off all over again, because what if they were wrong, what if it’s really rabies, and it’s too late, it’s coursing through his veins, and he’s—they’re gonna lose him—

“Hey, Harrington,” Eddie says, swinging a leg over his saddle, “wanna race?”

“… Hmm? Sorry, what?” Steve says.

There’s not even that long of a delay in him speaking, but the pause still has Robin’s heart in her throat.

Eddie’s got one foot on a pedal now, ready to set off. He looks back at them with a shaky grin—like he’s terrified, but he’s still gonna have some fun anyway.

“I’m throwing down the gauntlet, King Steve. Bet I’ll be faster than you.”

Steve scoffs, stands up a little straighter before he mirrors Eddie, balancing on the bike with one foot on the pedal.

“How much are we betting?”

Eddie huffs. “Oh, no money involved,” he says nonchalantly. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “This is just for the glory.”

And God, there’s that spark back in Steve’s eyes; it’s like Robin can physically see his competitive streak giving him strength.

Eddie Munson, you beautiful soul, she thinks, I could kiss you.

“Faster than me? Yeah, maybe in your dreams, Munson,” Steve says.

But Eddie’s already speeding off with a comical whoop; Steve curses as he hurriedly tries to catch up, yelling, “You dick, that’s cheating!”

“Not in my rulebook!” Eddie says with a cackle.

And for a little while, that’s enough to put Robin’s mind at ease: watching the pair of them taunt each other like kids—hearing Nancy laugh at the spectacle as she bikes alongside her.

But then she falls through the Gate, Eddie close behind her, and they freeze when Steve screams Nancy’s name with such fear.

Robin’s plunged back into a mind-numbing panic; she’s sure that her heart doesn’t even begin to slow until they’ve left the trailer park, until Steve’s control of the RV switches from ‘holy shit, we’re on the run, what have our lives become?’ to something more normal—the reliable, measured driving she’s familiar with, taking her to and from school or work.

Finally, she has time to, um… take stock. Of… things.

She wobbles her way over to Eddie, grabbing onto his elbow as Steve takes a turning.

Eddie instantly holds her up, a steadying hand around her waist. “Oh, hi. I’ve gotcha—” “Your music isn’t actually shit,” Robin says in one breath. “I know, um, on balance, it’s probably not the worst thing I could’ve said, but the delivery was—but, you know, considering I thought Nance was literally about to die, I’d say it was, like, kinda calm all things considered, but—”

Eddie’s chuckling. “Yeah, on balance,” he echoes teasingly, “you were pretty damn funny, actually. Uh, sorry for. Um. Screaming at you? Basically?”

“Basically,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, you were like impressively loud. Not quite eardrum-rupturing level, but y’know, I don’t actually know anyone who’s really had that happen to them; Amanda Wallis said she ruptured hers at the pep rally ‘cause she was standing too close to us—the band, I mean, but—”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, that’s bull, there’s no way that’d be loud enough to—”

“—I think she just had a grudge ‘cause David C on mellophone got literally the tiniest bit of spit on her, and he was only—”

“Yeah, well, everyone knows you sit in the splash zone at your own risk.”

“Exactly! She’s had plenty of time to learn marching band protocol.”

“Uh-huh, protocol,” Eddie echoes again, with a giggle.

He’s got a nice kind of laugh, Robin thinks: one where she’s never in doubt that he’s laughing with her rather than at her.

“That stuff you do’s pretty cool,” he says; with his free hand, he actually imitates her mime of playing a trumpet. “You must have good, uh…” She can see the exact moment that he’s having second thoughts about saying it, but he forges ahead anyway, with a hilariously uncertain, “Good… lungs?”

“Fascinating attempt at a compliment,” Robin says. “Luckily for you, I accept insults as, like, equal tokens of friendship.”

Eddie does a double take. He doesn’t go so far as letting out a questioning, “We’re friends?”, but he might as well have said it anyway: his eyes widen for a moment, like someone who’s just been unexpectedly asked out to prom.

Steve takes another turning; he does it smoothly enough, but even he can’t stop the RV from moving with it, and Robin stumbles again, very nearly ends up repeating how she toppled right onto Eddie in The Upside Down.

“Woah there, you’re good,” Eddie says, “just gotta find your, uh, what’s it called? Your equilibrium.”

“I don’t have any,” Robin says, all theatrical devastation, and Eddie snorts.

“Sure you do, Buckley. Look, just take my—yeah, that’s it, then just kinda straighten up… yeah, you’ve got it.”

And yes, after a minute or so, Robin’s footing does feel more certain, but she still keeps a stubborn grip on Eddie’s elbow, just in case.

“God, d’you know what I’m gonna do when all this is over?” Eddie says.

“Pray tell.”

“I’m gonna make a list. What was it you said, Madonna, Blondie…? Whatever, I’m getting all of them, m’never getting caught out like that again.”

“I’m hoping that needing music to evade the clutches of a serial killer from an alternate dimension is, um, strictly a one-time thing.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie says. “Still buying those tapes. Just in case.”

And yeah, it’s said partly in jest, but Robin can hear that he means it. Still, it’s the most optimistic that she’s heard him be so far: making plans for after, like he can really see a way through this. Like maybe he finally knows that they’ll help him get there.

“Need a list of tapes from you too, Buckley. You and Harrington.”

Robin smiles. Her first thought is of singing Total Eclipse of the Heart from the dirt-ridden floor of a mall bathroom, but then she thinks of every car ride with Steve, every time they’ve turned up the radio to belt along, and she knows that there are way too many songs to count.

“Forget a list,” Robin says, “I could fill a book. Same for big boy over there.”

Eddie blinks, like he’s suddenly taking stock, too. “Oh yeah,” he says, laughing lightly, “I did say that, huh?”

“Sure did. I was doubting my ears, too.”

Robin had been hoping they’d long since reached the point of being able to joke around with one another. But while Eddie does laugh again, he also starts biting at his thumbnail, glancing over at Steve in the driver’s seat.

“Um, hey.” Robin manages to keep her balance, briefly pressing her knee against his leg. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Eddie.”

“No, I know.” Eddie huffs self-effacingly. “I’ve kinda got permanent foot-in-mouth disease, my report cards would tell you that.”

Well, if he wants to pass it off as sometimes I just say the darnedest things, Robin would be a hypocrite to deny him.

It fascinates her in a sad sort of way though, how he veers between joking and nervousness—like he’s worried he’s intruding on their group, of overstepping somehow.

She wants to tell him: Look, we all got dragged into this, but we chose to stick around, and you’re no different.

But she no longer has the aftermath of Russian drugs to help bypass her own nerves, to kickstart her sincerity.

“Hey, you’re awfully quiet back there,” Steve calls, and Eddie startles.

Robin shakes her head. “Not us, that’s his—”

“Hello? Henderson, I’m talking to you.”

“We’re not even doing anything!” Dustin shouts back in exaggerated affront.

He’s sat on the backseat of the RV, peering out the window along with Lucas, Erica and Max. Robin stifles a chuckle at the sight; they look like they’re on a field trip—the cool kids at the back of the bus.

“Yeah, well, just checking,” Steve says, amused. “For all I know, you coulda been building a gigantic radio again on, like, the roof of this thing.”

“Cerebro,” Dustin says, just as Eddie lets out a baffled, “Uh, again?”

But then they’re pulling into The War Zone’s parking lot, and any chatter abruptly dies.

Afterwards, Steve gets off the road to park in a reassuringly deserted field. They don’t head outside right away (Robin’s not exactly looking forward to prepping Molotov cocktails), instead staying in the RV to eat junk food they’d grabbed beforehand.

Robin discovers that Dustin’s somehow bought five more cans of Pringles and snorts, declaring, “You’ve got a problem.”

At some point, Steve tries to sneak off to the bathroom so he can change his dressings—“And use actual proper bandages!” Robin calls to him; no offence to Nancy’s resourcefulness, but the torn shirt strips only do so much good.

It becomes a more comical than horrifying event, although she’s sure that’s down to Steve deliberately making it so, like a sleight of hand trick: playing it down as he keeps talking to the kids throughout, never wincing even once.

He ends up having to keep the bathroom door open to continue an argument with Erica over which Scoops Ahoy sundae was the best of all time—then figures that he might as well just step out into the open anyway.

At least the wounds have stopped bleeding—although the sight of Steve cleaning around them with bottled water is one that Robin could personally do without.

The kids are entirely unfazed. They flock to Steve, peering at the glimpses he lets them see like he’s just got a cool tattoo. Robin supposes that after El and whatever nightmare wormy thing was in her leg, they’ve seen everything.

Eddie, however, is another matter. He keeps quiet about it, not obvious at all, but Robin watches his face grow paler and paler before Steve wraps the new bandages around his stomach.

Dustin, bless his precocious little heart, must also notice, because he quickly starts up a seemingly impromptu game of charades, meaning that Eddie is soon distracted by his ridiculously over the top gestures.

“No, Steve, how are you not getting this?”

“I thought the whole appeal of this game was that you’re not meant to talk, Henderson. Dude, watch it, you nearly took Max’s eye out with… whatever the hell that was.”

“Oh my god, it’s Back to the Future, obviously! Ow, Max, I didn’t mean to—uh, yeah, the mime needs to be that big, how else am I gonna project what—”

“Dustin, I swear to god, I’m about to project you out the window,” Steve drawls.

Eddie laughs, hides it behind his hand.

But Steve must catch it, because he glances over at Eddie and winks before he’s dragged back into guessing another movie title.

And Robin’s obviously seen Steve wink before—he does it all the time, so much so that she’s become quite adept at reading when it’s a friendly one for her, or if he’s sharing some kind of in-joke with one of the kids.

She’s also seen his attempts at a ‘smooth’ wink towards some girls at work—and look, he’s Steve Harrington, it’s not like he’s going to be bad at it.

But if you ask Robin, it’s never looked quite right, like he’s always performing to an audience he’s unsure of.

But this wink doesn’t look like it belongs to either of those categories. Well, it’s got something in common with the first: that it looks entirely natural, as if he’s doing it almost without thinking. Like it just feels right.

They go through some more rounds of charades—Dustin’s gestures, if possible, getting even more dramatic—and Eddie gradually goes from contributing a few guesses to none at all, curling up on the backseat. He looks utterly wiped out.

Robin tries to catch Nancy’s eye, and after a few attempts, she gets the message, stands up with a nod.

“Okay, let’s take this outside, guys.”

“Spoken like a true camp counsellor,” Max says.

Nancy acts like she’s offended, but her lips keep twitching into a smile. “Max, never say that to me again.”

“There’s more space outside,” Erica says, “so we can duck out the way of Dustin’s windmilling arms.”

“Hey!”

“I’m bored of charades,” Lucas says. “We could do another competition? Like, I dunno, cartwheels or handstands or something?”

“Oh sure, so I can show you up?” Max returns, grinning.

Steve scoffs. “Uh, if you’re doing a cartwheel competition, I would win.”

“Since when?” Dustin says, an obvious taunt that Steve predictably rises to, flipping him off.

“Save your athletics for Vecna, please,” Nancy cuts in dryly.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” Lucas gestures to Steve’s stomach, a little uncertainly. “You know, considering…”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Under normal circumstances, I would kick all your asses.”

“Sure,” Robin says brightly, “but Steve, if you do literally anything more strenuous than sitting down right now, I’m gonna—”

“Uh, Steve would kick your asses, actually,” Eddie says slowly. His voice is muffled from the way his hand’s holding up his chin, partly covering his mouth. “He did gymnastics.”

Robin, surprised, looks to Steve; he’s doing that thing where he scratches at his cheek unconsciously, seems to be a mixture of embarrassed and pleased.

“How’d you know that?” he asks.

Eddie shrugs. “We didn’t have a cover for gym one time, remember? There was a whole group of us slacking off but you just kept doing, y’know,” he twirls his fingers, “tricks on that box thingy.”

“Vaulting box,” Steve corrects like he can’t stop himself. He’s sporting an almost abashed little smile that Robin’s never seen before.

Eddie shrugs again. “S’all Greek to me,” he says, interrupts himself halfway through with a deep yawn.

Steve’s eyes soften. And then he’s ushering the kids outside, “C’mon, you can do whatever competition you want for thirty minutes before we get to work.”

“Got it, coach.”

“Shut up, Mayfield.”

“I’ll be your stopwatch if you’re doing handstands,” Nancy chips in, bringing up the rear—she catches Robin’s eye again, subtly tilts her head in Eddie’s direction and mouths Stay?

Robin nods.

“Uh, that won’t be accurate at all,” comes Dustin’s rebuttal—he’s outside now, but his voice still carries. “Unless you can like accurately keep time in your head down to the second—”

“Oh my god, Dustin, you’re such a shithead.”

“Nancy Wheeler, I’m heartbroken.”

Steve’s chuckle floats through the open door. “She said it, dude, not me.”

“You say it all the goddamn time!”

And then the voices fade away until all Robin can hear is distant laughs and joyful screams. It’s relaxing, in its own way.

“No gymnastics for you, Buckley?” Eddie says.

“Nope, not since 7th grade. Managed two cartwheels before I broke my wrist.”

Eddie winces in sympathy. He’s slumping a bit more; Robin makes herself comfy in the opposite corner of the backseat, gives him the most space.

She feels a weird lump at her back, behind one of the cushions. A quick investigation reveals an issue of TV Guide Magazine.

“Ooh, we can find out what we missed while on the run,” she says, waggling it in front of Eddie.

He smiles with a small huff. “Doubt it. Says 1981 on the front.”

“What’s a little more time travel?”

Robin flicks through to the crossword. She’s all too aware that Eddie’s still sat more stiffly than anything else. With Steve, it would be so easy; she could prod him in the thigh with her toe, light touches until he took the hint and relaxed.

But even before they’d really become friends, they were tactile: a tap on the shoulder to grab attention, bumping hips to move each other out of the way whenever they were scooping ice-cream at the same time. It’d been done so unconsciously, like they were already learning to read each other’s minds.

With Eddie, it’s clear that a different approach is needed.

Robin had caught onto that after her misstep at the boathouse, a pit in her stomach at the sight of Eddie’s hands shaking.

But her instinct to reach out, to soothe, made her unthinkingly try again; as they walked in the woods, she’d heard his breathing quicken, and her hand lightly brushed his back. She drew back as he instantly flinched at her touch.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly. “Just—just checking you were okay. Sorry.”

Eddie just stared at her before nodding hesitantly.

And Robin wanted to tell him that it wasn’t by chance, that he had people who cared about him; that she did, and it wasn’t a fluke or an accident—she was choosing it.

She keeps her eyes on the magazine, jots down a few crossword answers. It reminds her of summer days spent reading on her grandparents’ porch, not wanting to startle a cat her grandpa had rescued as it approached her. It was always so spooked.

“You’ve just gotta let him come to you, sweet pea,” her grandma would say.

After a couple minutes, she hears Eddie breathe out, the creak of the seat as he lies down. He rests his head right next to her thigh.

“S’good?” he asks, pointing at the magazine.

“It’s pretty easy.” One of the crossword clues is ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the?’ which isn’t exactly taxing. “I’m used to doing the cryptic ones.”

Eddie laughs. He kinda sounds fond. “Of course you are.”

“They’re not that hard, once you know how to read ‘em.”

“Hmm, I doubt that. Lay one on me, Buckley.”

She purses her lips in thought. “Oh, I got this one last week. Condition of Wyoming, five letters.”

Eddie lifts his head ever so slightly to give her a blank look. “Not a fucking clue.”

“State. Get it? ‘Cause ‘condition’ is the definition, and Wyoming is literally—”

“God, I’m surrounded by geniuses.”

“Well, I’ve got the advantage of a summer of code-breaking.”

Robin slowly raises her hand as she speaks—makes sure to do it in Eddie’s line of vision, spots that he doesn’t pull back, that he even gives the tiniest half-nod. She pats his head twice.

Eddie scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, my hair’s gross.”

“It’s not that bad,” Robin says honestly. “Y’know for being on the run, it’s holding up pretty well. I’m getting whatever shampoo you use.”

Eddie smiles. “Sure.”

“Yours is looking way better than mine did after, like, one day getting wrapped up in all this.” Again, without really thinking, Robin adds, “I had all this sweat and blood and puke in it.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed now. He makes an unhappy sound, prods gently at her knee. “You’ve all gotta work on telling me horrific shit. That should not be casual for you, Buckley.”

He sounds emphatic—protective, even. Robin feels unexpectedly emotional.

“Yeah, sorry. Bad habit.”

Silence falls, and by the time Steve enters the RV, Robin has filled in the whole crossword, Eddie dozing by her side.

Steve’s getting another bottle of water—actually drinking it this time. He’s got grass stains on his knees, and he’s sweating slightly, like the ‘stay still’ advice hasn’t once been taken.

His eyes soften again when he sees Eddie sleeping—he doesn’t need to linger, but he does.

Robin watches.

We need more time, Steve, she thinks suddenly. For you to keep looking at him like that—for him to be awake to see it.

Steve tears his eyes away. Lands on her.

She smiles, mouthing What?

Steve rolls his eyes. He imitates her ‘what?’ mockingly, but then he smiles back and taps at his wrist, mimes winding a watch on. It’s what they do whenever they’re slammed at work, wanting to talk, but only able to briefly catch each other’s eyes in the rush. Later.

She taps her wrist. Later, she promises.

He gives her a double thumbs up—what a dork—before heading back outside.

Robin quietly puts the magazine away. Ever so carefully, she lightly strokes Eddie’s hair, feels her heart swell and break at the same time when he sighs contentedly in his sleep.

You’d better look after yourself, Eddie Munson, she thinks. You’ve got people here. People who really want you to stick around.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you 

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you 

dude 

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering 

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that 

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you   

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more. 

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.  

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed. 

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake. 

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend. 

 “And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly. 

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly. 

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy. 

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else.  You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod. 

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it. 

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so,  “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest. 

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm. 

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.” 

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.  

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall. 

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free. 

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart. 

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.  

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it. 

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue. 

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

*** 

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet. 

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer. 

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice. 

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air. 

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack. 

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile. 

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things. 

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts. 

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin. 

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten. 

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it. 

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force. 

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having. 

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself. 

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat. 

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota  state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy. 

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour. 

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other. 

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus. 

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk. 

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.” 

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that. 

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together. 

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts. 

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard. 

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking. 

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane. 

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously,  “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches. 

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost. 

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,”  Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be. 

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps. 

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on. 

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears. 

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back. 

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore. 

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need. 

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something.  It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi. 

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step. 

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile. 

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her. 

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.” 

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen. 

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her. 

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing  “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that. 

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?” 

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her. 

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away. 

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again. 

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch. 

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people. 

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige. 

“You having fun?” 

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface. 

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together. 

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste. 

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths. 

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety. 

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back. 

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall. 

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that. 

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly. 

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable. 

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing. 

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed. 

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it. 

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.” 

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it. 

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear. 

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most. 

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s. 

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up. 

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance. 

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

[szagaloree]

His wife…

Chapter 6

Contains: cuteness and fluff

In the morning spider was looking around, he walks into his aunties quarters “hey have y’all seen mom?” He asks “naw kid, she didn’t come in the room at all last night,” Raven answered putting her gun her hoister, he leaves looking for her. Searching through the lab she was now where to be found neither Quaritch, so he walks over to his room, he quietly opens the door and walks in, once he peeled behind the wall he sees his mother and father both in the bed asleep, he started to smile a little. Quaritch begins to wake up and his eyes were upon me till he glances up he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him but once he looks back again he flinches from seeing spider standing by the wall, “how long have you been standing there?” He asks, “I just came in, I was looking for mom but I guess found her,” spider smirks.

He huffs shaking his head “learn how to knock,” he said, he leans up before slapping my hip “alright wake up,” he said tiredly “shut up” she mumbles shifting in her sleep “don’t tell me to shut up woman get up,” he shakes her head she opens her eyes groaning before pausing “spider-what the hell are you doing?” She asks “nothing I was looking for you,” he smirks as he leaves, I huff then glance at quaritch who chuckled “what’s funny?” I question as I get up, “I wasn’t laughin,” he said, I got dressed but Quaritch pulls me back by my tail making my eyes go wide “get back here you little kitty cat,” he says, “ughh don’t call me that it’s so cringey,” I scoff, I walk away “oh you’ll like it,” he smirked, I leave out heading to the lab, “gwen, been looking for you, we got some intel on sully,” Raven said “what?” What’s going on?” I ask she grabs my wrist taking me to the corner “they’ve relocated far from the forest,” she informs, “good, they it’s best for them,” I sighed, “how are we gonna deal with the rda? The more we rebel the more suspicious they get and they can put us down?” She asks worriedly “I don’t know but.. I gotta get spider out of this,” I huff “gotta figure something out sooner or later,” I shake my head looking down.

I walked outside to see Quaritch teaching spider how to play basketball, “so.. you didn’t come back in the quarters last night, you and Quaritch had some fun?” Allen asks i chocked on my water “hell no! What the fuck Allen,” the girls snickered, I roll my eyes “we didn’t do shit, so y’all can stop the you’re little foolery,” I said, I sat down and laid my head on raven’s lap, “make sure to beat that asshole’s ass spider!” Ellice shouts I smirk with a snicker “ why don’t you get you’re ass up and play since you’re all talk,” he said, “ohhh I don’t wanna do ya old man,” we laughed.

As they play I just sat and watch spider and quaritch interact with each other, this is one of the first times I’ve seen Quaritch act like a person and not a puppet. He was being him, smiling and everything, i would wish this for him then anything else but I can only convince him for so long till it’s his finals decision on what he wants, me and the girls jumped when the boys sprayed water on us “you fucking asshole!” I scoff, they laughed, later on groan wincing in pain that was in my chest, I could hardly breath, “you alright?” Allen asks “yea god this chest pain is killing me,” I huff, “probably needs some meds,” she said, I walk to the lab wincing, “what’s wrong?” Spider asks “nothing just having chest pain randomly,” I answered.

I huff taking some pills before sitting down at the table by spider “so how you feelin?” I ask, “fine, dad taught me how to make a 3 pointer,” he smiled “nice, how do you feel, about your dad?” I ask nervously, “he’s… good, I mean I wouldn’t think he would, accept me he would disown me… after being kinda alone i just wished you both were here,” he says “I know, you’re dad could’ve been here longer then me if he wasn’t a hard ass, I don’t know how to get through his big head,” I said “do you ever think if you and dad could get.. back. Together?” He asks hesitant of the answer because he knows how much I was very overprotective of him against his dad, I didn’t want him to be just like him nor end up the rda’s puppet, but them getting together again, that was our of the question…. Is It? I only dreamed of us being together, being happy and living a free life on Pandora away from the rda and their bullshit, but that’s only a dream to be honest.

“I don’t know, don’t think so, the way he is, it’s..mm” I bit my lip, it’s hard to talk about it even more. He looks down saddened “but I wouldn’t mind being friends with him I just can’t be with him,” I said, he nodded. After dinner I stood in a certain room to look at my old logs, it hurts to see how I was when I first got there but I love for when I changed, it was a lot better. “Reminiscing on the past?” Quaritch comes in “spider’s asleep?” I ask he nods “yea knocked out figured playing basketball wore him out,” he said, “surprised you ain’t knocked out old man,” I said “yea whatever i ain’t old,” he sat down, “you really never gave up that hairstyle,” he says, “what about it? That’s my go too,” I said, he grins “mhm, I be telling everytime to just let your damn hair down for once,” he said “and I did once,” he chuckles.

“You want to go fly around for a little?” He asks.

“Why?” I ask “what just to have some fun,” he smirks getting up, is Jake my head silently laughing as I get up. Flying through the sky it feels so beautiful and refreshing to see the forest at night and how it glows, earth was never like that even before it was destroyed by buildings and wars and pollution.

🎶“I could lie-could lie-could lie… everything that kills meee… makes me feel alive”🎶

I giggle watching Quaritch chase after me “imma get you somehow,” he smirks “I’ll like to see you try,” I chuckle.

🎶“lately I’ve been-I’ve been loosing sleep… dreaming about the things that we could be… but baby I’ve been-I’ve been prayin hard.. said no more counting dollars.. we’ll be counting stars…”🎶

I fly down laughing he lifts me up making me squeal with laughter, “stawwp” I giggle he smiled carrying me inside over his shoulder, “miles put me down right now,” I said, “nope” he smirks, we ended up in his room apparently and now he puts me down I run to leave but he grabs my tail “aye let my tail go,” I jumped he pulls me back “get back here you little rascal,” he said, I scoff he wraps his arms around my waist sighing in content. “Why am I in your room?” I ask cocking a brow, “what scared Ian gone bite ya,” he smirked I shake my head at his foolishness. “Even an avatar you are still sooo fine,” I chuckle “don’t think this is a way for you to get your way with me Quaritch,” I said “back to Quaritch? Whaaat nooo,” he fake pouts, I roll my eyes “I’m serious, you look just like you, that’s sexy bomb ass women I married,” he said pecking my lips teasingly, I stared at him not sure if I should take the bait, but you only live twice? I guess, I kiss back leaving him shocked, his grip tightened pulling me closer to his chest.

[demons-and-demigods]

Demons and Demigods Part Four: Written Scene #2: Cousins

Again, please excuse the tense inconsistency 😅

Percy pops his head over the side of the Argo II looking for Annabeth and, upon seeing two massive, muscled dudes standing with her, launches himself over the railing and lunges for Dean, knocking him to the ground and holding Riptide to his throat. Percy snarls and glares down at him with his patented Wolf Stare.

“Stand back or I slit his throat,” Percy growled and shifted his gaze to lock eyes with Sam, who stepped back quickly and held his hands up. “Annabeth, are you alright?” Percy asked, though he did not look away from Sam.  

Annabeth just rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s alright,” she said. “Would you put your sword away? This is Sam and Dean.”  

Percy’s eyes widened and he scrambled off Dean. He stowed Riptide and hauled Dean back to his feet in one smooth motion.  

“Shit, sorry, dude,” Percy said with his customary crooked grin. He rubbed the back of his neck and his smile turned sheepish. “I wanted to make a better first impression,” he laughed and shook his head. “I’m excited to meet you guys! My mom didn’t tell me much, but from what she did say and learning about all the other nightmarish shit out there, well, you guys sounded really cool.”  

Sam and Dean were a little too stunned to respond immediately, still reeling from the whiplash of Percy’s complete one-eighty from murderous intent to sweet smiley kid.  

Sam recovered first. “No worries, kid. With lives like ours, you can’t afford to ask questions. We’ve made our fair share of ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ entrances.” He grinned and offered Percy his hand. “I’m Sam, and I would love you to show me how you put my brother on the ground so fast.”  

Percy laughed. “I’d be happy to after all this is over,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the Argo II. “I’d ask if you guys wanted to join us and help defeat Gaea, but I don’t think the prophecy would take kindly to that.”  

“What is the prophecy, anyway?” Dean asked, finally over his shock enough to speak.  

Percy winced. “Not pretty, that’s for sure,” he sighed. “Seven halfbloods shall answer the call / To storm or fire the world must fall / An oath to keep with a final breath / And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.”  

Dean let out a low whistle and Sam cursed under his breath.  

“Gaea is rising, and so are her children, the giants. They’ve chained the doors of death, so monsters aren’t staying dead like they should. We have to free the doors and stop the giants’ plan to raise the earth mother.” Annabeth said.  

“How?” Sam asked incredulously. “I mean, that’s . . .” he trailed off, unsure how to even finish that sentence.  

“We don’t know yet,” Percy said with a shrug. “That tends to be how it goes. Things usally only start to make sense when we’re in the thick of it. It can be annoying, but when you’re a demigod, you just gotta learn to roll with the punches.”  

Suddenly a voice called out from aboard the Argo II.  

“Percy! Annabeth! We gotta go! Quit chatting with the hired muscle numbers one and two!”  

Percy turned around to wave dismissively at the curly haired kid leaning over the boat’s railing. “Yeah, yeah!” he called. “We’re coming, Leo! But cut me some slack! I was just possessed by a weird spirit and these are my cousins that I didn’t know existed! Figured I should say hello before we head off to our almost certain deaths!”  

Leo yelled something back in Spanish that made Percy cackle before turning back to them.  

“Well, guess we better get back to the ship before Leo decides to take off without us. We’ll have to meet up again if we make it out of this alive, yeah?” Percy smiled at them before grabbing Annabeth’s hand and heading back to the ship.  

Sam and Dean watched as the ship disappeared before turning to each other with identical incredulous expressions. “What the fuck,” they exclaimed in unison and then busted out laughing.  

“Shit, that was really scary, but also kinda funny,” Sam said as his laughter calmed down. “I mean, he had you laid out faster than either of us could track!”  

Dean groaned. “I can’t believe he took me out so easily! I mean, yeah, we’re close to the same height and he definitely solid muscle under there, but he’s still so small! How the hell did he pin me like that?” Dean threw his hands up in the air and turned around to stalk back toward the impala.  

Sam snickered. “He did have a sword at your throat,” he pointed out.  

“Yeah, but I know how to get out of a hold like that! I’ve done it before!” Dean whirled around to glare at his brother. “I couldn’t move, okay? Kid’s strong as hell, and not just with his godly-mojo-stuff. I mean, Annabeth got it cleared up quick, but I tried to flip us over or buck him off, and I could hardly even twitch!”  

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wait, for real?” he gasped.  

Dean nodded.  

So Dean and Sam have a bit of a crisis lmao while the seven are off to Rome.  

Back on the ship, Percy has his head buried in Annabeth’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I attacked them,” he bemoans himself. “They probably hate me now,” he wails and Annabeth just rubs his back consolingly while she tries not to laugh. 

They carry on.

This scene is short, but some real doozies are coming your way, don't worry.

[inact-ice]

Final thoughts on 911 season 1 now that I’ve actually watched it all:

- Abby was my favourite character of this season! Which really surprised me because Buck is like the exact type of character who’s usually my favourite (goofy with a lot of dark trauma and insecurities that they hide with jokes, himbo, bisexual coded), but the episode where Abby’s talking to her brother and she said that being a daughter and being a saint were the same thing really endeared me to her (eldest immigrant daughter core). I liked her relationship with her mom a lot too, I love how much they loved each other but how the show wasn’t afraid to show how putting all the care of someone struggling with an illness like that onto one person, can be so difficult and isolating for both people in that kind of relationship. I also really loved how dedicated she was to saving people, like I kept calling her Batman even though calling her the Oracle would have made more sense lol. Again, need the spinoff show where Abby’s just travelling the world and solving crimes!

- I cried when she left because I know from the fandom that she’s gone forever (for the most part) and that she ghosts Buck so we never even hear her voice again ugh

- I think Bobby’s arc was my favourite, it was very nice to see him heal, then backslide a bit, then get back up and keep trying. Bathena was also my favourite relationship even though it only really showed up at the end, but they’re just so cute together

- Favourite episode was episode 7 because of the way they tied together the emergencies, it was so well done and showcase of writing talent that I’m excited to see more of! Also this is when Abby solidified herself as Batman to me, she yearns for justice and the streets of Gotham I fear.

- episode 7 is also the episode with my favourite emergency of the season, the one with the gay couple where one of them had a tapeworm! They were so funny, and honestly so was everyone involved in the scene. Buck sharing his gym bro dieting tips made me laugh so hard, and Bobby just being over it was hilarious! Despite being surrounded by other pretty dark emergencies, it didn’t feel jarring!

- my least favourite arc was the hen cheating arc, I already knew they were gonna get back together and it would never be mentioned again, and it was just not fun to watch at all. Plus Hen took over w/ the intro monologues for Abby during this arc, which cut into our already limited Abby screen time, to make metaphors about cheating on her wife. UGH!

- my least favourite character was probably actually buck (gasp!). I liked him, don’t get me wrong! But a combination of the intense second hand embarrassment he gave me at the beginning of the season and my intense overwhelming love for Abigail Clark, just made me enjoy other characters more. Sometimes I felt that he was a little too immature for her, or he’d say things that would make me cringe

- my favourite scene overall was the scene where bobby was helping buck tie his tie, and he told him he looked handsome, and they were just joking around with each other! It was so cute, such an adorable father-son moment that showed some of the growth they’ve both gone through to be able to be in this situation and interact with each other like that. Ugh just so cute, will be reading more buck and bobby father-son fics THANK YEW

- my least favourite scene was of course the scene where buck is assaulted by his therapist because what the fuck was that.

- I also really hated when everyone not only thought that Buck would cheat on my beautiful wife Abby Clark, but they were also just kinda chill with it??? It felt so weird and callous?? And kinda ooc bc they yelled at him when he was single and just slanging it, but now that he’s in a relationship they think it’s none of their business?? It was so weird, and it would have been my least favourite episode if we didn’t get that awesome closing monologue to Florence and the machine from Abby at the end, which made me cry btw

- and also if the first couple of episodes weren’t kinda rough, the season got better the later we got into it, then peaked at episode 7!

All in all, I really enjoyed this season and I’m glad I decided to stop being a fandom lurker and finally watch it! Very excited to start watching season 2 whenever I get to it, because this is the season where Maddie and Eddie enter right? And Christopher!! I predict that Maddie will probably be my favourite character of the season, bc of eldest daughter solidarity and bc from what the fandom has told me she’s literally the coolest ever

- wait i lied, Athena’s mean gay husband is my least favourite character! He just lacks so much tact and has said some things to Athena that were so damn mean! I don’t think either Athena or her husband handled that whole arc well, but sometimes her husband said stuff that was like especially cruel and unwarranted. But Bucks’ still my least favourite main character sorry!

[epitome-of-an-openbook]

The prevalence of male character feminization is really high in the ST fandom and I’m not sure how to feel about it. It can’t just be the hanky thing (that costume designer has no idea what they’ve unleashed!) and I understand that it’s a kink and I’m not going to shame that. But as you say, it seeps into lots of fics where it’s like people think that’s how a bottom acts.

I wondered if it was the huge influx of tik tok teens that came with S4, who might (MIGHT) be eager to just run with their own thoughts rather than following canon? I mean, a small but significant proportion of Steddie fans readily admit haven’t even watched previous seasons. A couple of authors have even said they hadn’t watched the show at all, and only know it from tik tok. Now, they’re allowed to be in the fandom. All are welcome. It’s just an interesting phenomenon. It would explain some of the poor grammar in some fics. I’m not talking all fics/all young authors, some of them are brilliant. But with dialogue, some seem to think you put a period wherever a comma would normally go, and that’s something I’ve never seen in any other fandom. And then there’s your/your, the past tense of to lie/to lay, peek/peak/pique, queue/cue, bear/bare…I could go on for ages.

But that’s beside the point. Back to feminization: another consideration is the fact that many authors write their favorite characters as a self insert of sorts. Not just fanfic authors, either: Stephen King does it all the time, and other authors too. So that means some (again, not all) female authors will write Steve (it’s usually Steve, let’s be honest here) that way because they want him to be loved the way they want to be loved, whether that involves kink or not.

I’m not a fan of it, personally. I like Steve how he is in canon, and a lot of traditionally ‘feminine’ tropes don’t fit him. When he’s written as a coy or coquettish, or someone who cries all the time, for example, it’s not to my taste. Kinda throws me out of the story, tbh. But it clearly is appealing to lots of other people.

That’s not to say that Steve doesn’t have some ‘female’ traits. I find the babygirl Steve meme as funny as anyone else, and of course he has been given the reluctant babysitter role. In S3 he was so prettily styled it was crazy, and he was the one receiving creepy facial caresses from the Russian general when any other show would have had that happen to Robin. But he can be written as he is in canon - that same pretty boy who’s also a jock, who can take a punch like a champ, is an adorable doofus and a recklessly courageous protector - and still be a bottom.

I also have no idea where it really comes from. However, the feminization for the purpose of making one character in a mlm gay relationship 'the man' of the relationship and the other 'the woman' of the relationship is a widespread issue across most fandom spaces tbh, and I know that everytime it comes up its just cycled discourse that's been talked to death - but the fact of the matter is that gay men in fandom spaces have repeatedly told us that it's harmful. There is a tasteful way to have Steve (or Eddie or whoever) explore a more feme gender expression, but it becomes very clear in fic when the feminization is being used as a way to fit a gay relationship into heteronormative gender-roles and/or fetishize the pairing. It is all very "so who wears the pants in this relationship?" imo - which really sucks. A metalhead nerd and a prom king jock can be in a relationship with each other without having to sacrifice the masculine aspects of their personalities. It is so rare in gay relationships for one person to always be the bottom or always be the top and sometimes the top is the tiny femme one and the bottom is the big masculine one. And sometimes neither has any particularly femme qualities and sometimes neither have any particularly masc qualities.

Also, on another barely related note - what is with people exaggerating their heights to fit this idea, one of the first indicators I have for "this fic might not be for me" is if one of them is suddenly towering over the other despite the fact that Joe Keery/Steve is just barely an inch taller than Joe Quinn/Eddie?? Idk if that's just a personal preference thing, and I don't always hate it but it's another thing that I feel sometimes gets used to enforce het-gender roles.

IDK if my points came across all that clearly, but the issue isn't necessarily "Stop Babygirl-ifying Steve" so much as it is "Stop Babygirl-ifying Steve in a way that's fetishizing gay men" and that can get kind of lost in the discourse I think - imo it's pretty easy to pick out when it's done well and when it's done harmfully and everyone can read what they want to but I personally am going to try and stay away from the latter.

[kenisle]

rewatched civil war (twice) and damn team iron man was really doomed from the start

tony: driven by rising guilt. goes against previous values and patterns of behavior so he has very little sway with the govt he’s trying to work with. thinks he can convince steve to compromise his beliefs (have you met steve??) just to get what tony wants while unwilling to do the same. also he’s chosen ross as his ally? and doesn’t even think bruce would take his side on the accords/bucky situation? girl if you’re gonna go this hard at least be sure of yourself.

rhodey: already in the government’s pocket. more power with them but less credibility w everyone else.

vision: 2 years old. v little experience with emotions, which are shown to be brought out most strongly by wanda.

peter: 15 years old. how much did tony even tell him? or did he just wave a shiny new suit in front of him?once he sees past the starstruck-ness i highly doubt he’d side w tony. like steve tells him there’s a lot happening that he doesn’t understand and peter’s all “funny mr stark said you’d say that” like yeah girl but uh that doesn’t make it not true lol.

natasha: demonstrably close with steve and others on his team (clint, sam, wanda). defects p much first chance she gets.

tchalla: also defects as soon as he realizes what was really going on. even before then, he clearly only wanted to get bucky, didn’t care abt tony’s mission. realistically prob wouldn’t have submitted to the accords as bp anyway if it wasn’t in wakanda’s best interest. as he should.

meanwhile team cap was SOLID

steve: once bucky’s in danger, it’s over. man’s locked in and will not be stopped by anything short of a bullet to the head. you don’t trust someone without a dark side, tony? this is steve’s “dark” side: his devotion to bucky.

sam: loyal to cap. they may not always agree 100%, but they’ve got each other’s backs. where steve goes, sam goes.

bucky: spends most of the movie running and defending himself bc he’s the main target, but once tony knocks steve down? bucky’s there to stop him and they’re the dream team once more. gets his arm blown off and keeps fighting. to the end of the line.

clint: helping his friends, plain and simple. he believes in the fight, even if he doesn’t seem to take it as seriously as the others (joking around, pulling punches w nat). he gets the job done.

wanda: loyalty most shaky bc of her connection to vision, but she’s also the only one who can overpower him, and she has bonds w clint and steve as well as beef w tony, so she commits when it matters.

scott: happy to be there, backing cap. kinda like sam in catws. “dude captain america needs my help.” total wild card bringing a new power set to the table, which really came in clutch several times in the airport fight. familiar with the flaws of the us justice system and breaking the law to do what’s right. also he made watching the movie way more enjoyable bc he’s comic relief but not in the “smartass sarcastic” way that i’ve gotten tired of. he’s just a goofy dad fighting the good fight with his weird ass contraptions and gizmos. he risked tearing himself in half with a highly experimental maneuver for a distraction. i cannot stress this enough he went full titan mode instead of, say, supersizing a colony of ants, because these guys he just met needed a diversion to avoid being arrested by these other guys he just met (which is what ends up happening to him because he passes the fuck out immediately after)

and while team iron man was backstabbing each other left and right? everyone on team cap was prepared to stay behind and get arrested — insisted on it — so cap and bucky could escape in the quinjet. tony stark you can never again underestimate the power of friendship because it just blew up in your face and demolished your ass.

[charmac]

i wasn’t able to watch it yet but everyone is stressing me out talking about it, like i have to assume that they get in arguments a lot and are able to resolve them through communication. and i absolutely am with charlie from what people are saying but why is everyone acting like their friendship is over idk. do you think it will all just kinda settle after a bit bc i feel like people are being a tiny bit dramatic?

Oh I don’t think their friendship is over or this destroyed the show or anything dramatic it was mostly just … funny and kinda stupid. It was just a little surreal seeing them get more and more passive aggressive toward each other until it just. ended.

Like others and they themselves have said, they often have disagreements in the writers room and it works itself out. They’ve been friends for 20 years so I don’t think it’s really THAT big of a deal. Just something we haven’t really seen and threw people.

That being said: (and again i’m on Tumblr for a reason this is to speculate and kinda talk out my ass since rcgm are not present here like Reddit) I do wonder if Rob being away a lot has caused some more tension this year in the writers room. Remember on the Pod he had been away for Wrexham or whatever and Glenn and Charlie broke a story without him. I wonder if he’s now coming in trying to re-pitch their ideas or tweak things and they’re pushing back a bit due to him being absent so much?

Im not sure if it was an individual pitch or maybe it’s the overall idea that this season is going to be a little closer to Philly and honed in on smaller ideas (like Meg said recently on the Pod) and Rob wants to go a bigger? People speculate maybe Charlie is pushing back on gay Mac? I’d hope not. (I hope he’s pushing back on Rob’s metaverse or Rob trying to integrate Wrexham or something)

I was really just kinda irked that we paid $30 and they barely did any fan interaction and didn’t take many questions or have a better system set up for that. They know ticket sales numbers so they had to have seen how many people would be in that chat. We paid $30 to watch them give gifts to each other, sing and dance (improv) a little, and be passive aggressive (or just moody or tuned out for awhile) virtually. I’m gonna gossip a little about what i saw… At least it went to charity!!

[clairethecutepup]

"When the Meloetta Sings..." (PMD Script)

What does Klonoa and Pokemon Mystery Dungeon have in common? Teary farewells, when all is said and done... If you dare have the sorrows combine, then bravely venture into the "keep reading" and see the overall script for a future practice idea and "break" piece.

Synopsis:

It’s time once again for the Pokemon Mystery Dungeon staple: the humans must return to home, despite the sorrow involved. It’s no different for the now-shiny-eevee, Cio, and the now-riolu, Claire. Just as the ending of Klonoa: Door to Phantomile played out: Claire nor Cio want to go to their respective homes and separate, all while Melody sings the mythical “Song of Restoration,” to undo the damage all the Ultra Beasts caused. Claire will be sent back alongside Solgaleo, Cio alongside Lunala, through an Ultra Space wormhole that’ll return them to their own realms. Nearby, the other pokemon they’ve befriended will stand by, not enjoying the show, but knowing it’s necessary to maintain the realm’s balance: rejecting all those who did not belong.

Script:

Cio: So, what now, Gray? With all the Ultra Beasts and those two going back home, what should Claire and I do? I think we’re ready to go out and finally be our own rescue organization, right, man?

**The shiny Thievul says nothing, but has a grim look on his face.**

Cio: ?... Gray…?

*Claire also seems concerned*

Grayson: … No, what happens next is… *he sighs* You both return to your actual homes…

*The riolu and eevee look at each other.*

Cio: Gray, what’re you talking about, man: you still want us to stay at the base…? *he realizes something is wrong* Hey man, what’s wrong?

Grayson: … Now that Melody will undo everything, It’s time you both knew the truth: you’re not actually pokemon of this world. You’re not even pokemon, in general…

*Claire and Cio look uneasy: Claire’s doing her signature “paws-up” pose, while Cio is sweating*

Cio: You’re not making sense, man… What’s going on?

Grayson: I’m sharing the truth, that’s what. You’re humans: creatures similar to our kind, but more adept to ingenuity and other skills that rely on intellect over powers.

Cio: “Humans”...? Like those “alien life forms” Gustel always talked about, like all the other “alternate world” stuff?

Claire: !!... (I think I remember Gustel’s research about those kinda things, too…! He said that in some worlds, there exist things that don’t in ours… He even said there could exist some worlds, where even pokemon aren’t real…)

Grayson: You two only came here, by chance, just as that “lunala” and “solgaleo” did. I’m assuming the wormholes which brought you here altered your forms, somehow, as it likely wouldn’t have been possible to enter here otherwise. Now, it’s time for you to leave through those very portals and return to the worlds you rightfully belong in.

Cio: This… This’s some kind of joke, right? Grayson, I remember everything: growing up here, how you inspired me to start my own rescue team organization…! How can I have memories like that, if I wasn’t here my entire life?!

Claire: (I-I remember stuff, too…! All the training with Raifu, painting with Skyler and learning to use special attacks…)

Cio: Come on, man, I dunno what you’re doing, but it’s not funny…!

Grayson: Cio, for the time you’ve known me-- as short as it may have actually been --do you really know me to be someone for such a troubling and discomforting “joke”: to admit to you… *he pauses and grimaces* that it was all a lie? Your memories are false fabrications, planted into you two, so you’d stay with us and for other important reasons. The last thing we needed were more alien life forms roaming around, unsupervised, despite how much of a paler threat you’d be… 

Cio: So, you… You were never really trying to just “keep us safe”...? Th-That “overprotective brother” stuff…?

Grayson: Well, in a sense we had: it wouldn’t exactly be safe for yourselves, if you were allowed to roam freely in unfamiliar terrain.

Claire: … (But… But… Does that mean they never really cared about us…? W-What if they only “cared” ‘cause we could’ve caused trouble…?)

Cio: S-So what, man: we’ve just secretly been prisoners this whole time?! Y-You even got s-some free labor o-o-out of us!!

Grayson: Please, it was for your own good… 

*Show everyone coming across the fallen Claire and Cio, as Lunatala and Solgaleo more consciously flee the wormholes.*

… Do you have any idea how terrifying it’d be: living with the knowledge you’re stuck in a world that you don’t belong to, unaware if you’ll ever again see the family and life you were stolen from? 

*Show the soon-named Hypno over the two, familiarizing himself with the once-humans’ memories and altering them*

… It was far crueler to leave your minds untouched, than have Trance assist us in planting new memories and altering your sense of reality.

*Return to the present scene*

Cio: … Y-You’re lying, man… I dunno why, but you’re lying! You’ve gotta be!!

Claire: … (It’s gotta be true… Grayson would never say something that’s mean, like scaring us about everything being fake… So, it must’ve all been fake…)

*Claire starts crying*

Cio: H-Hey, Buddy…! *he places a paw on her arm* C’mon, man, i-it’s not real, h-he’s just saying stuff…!!

Grayson: Cio, Claire, you’d best prepare yourselves… Melody’s about to sing.

*The Meloetta takes her position on the cliff’s edge, vocalizing the proper notes that open all the wormholes, which absorb their respective Ultra Beast. Soon enough, Claire and Cio notice theirs opening, when their bodies suddenly react to a strong gust sucking them away. Lunala and Solgaleo leave more willingly.*

Cio: No, NO…! I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!!

Claire: !!! (At least let me and Cio stay together!!! HE’S MY BEST FRIEND!!)

*The two take paws, gripping on for dear life, as the selective gusts threaten to finally pull the “floating” duo apart. They give each other one final look in the eyes, until they can hold on no longer and fly into their respective wormholes.*

Cio: CLAIRE…!!

Claire: C’O…!!

*The wormholes then disappear and Melody concludes her song. A final glimpse is of Grayson, as he wipes his eyes, before re-applying his shades.*

[End]

[releasing-my-insanity]

Maggie in s3e7 thoughts part 1

@fortytworedvines (In case you were interested in my thoughts after watching the full clips. If not, feel free to ignore. :) )

Finally got around to watching the whole scene in the Drovers from the s3 Christmas special and I honestly am laughing so hard. Maggie and Tristan are pretty obviously not remotely over each other. And they’re barely trying to pretend that they are.

Tristan’s not even sad about Florence. He’s just like “Yeah, stung a bit. That’s all.” Maggie outright laughed at his failed proposal and he didn’t really mind. Like he says “don’t laugh,” but he says it like someone who said something intentionally funny and thinks that “don’t laugh” makes it funnier. He says don’t laugh and then he nearly laughs too.

It’s almost like Tristan is going “I don’t mind being turned down because it makes it easier to spend time with you.”

And the fact that he starts off being all “Oh I let her down gently” but then immediately switches to being honest with Maggie is such a great moment of character development. I think Maggie is really noticing how much he’s matured over the couple of years that they’ve known each other.

“Was it very romantic?” asks Maggie, grasping at straws. I laughed so much. I’m kinda surprised it took her nearly four months to ask what happened though. Something about the way she says “I shouldn’t laugh” makes me feel like she’s going “I’ve made engagement choices I regret too.”

And Maggie’s practically going “Who’s Arthur?” when Tristan brings him up. She’s so much more focused on Tristan wanting to serve than she is on the fact that Arthur already is.

She spends the entire scene looking at him so affectionately. I feel like her expression is basically “I don’t care about Arthur, don’t you know I’ve been in love with you for two and half years now?” (Which, of course he doesn’t Maggie. You spent all that time in the pantry telling him he was completely wrong for you.)

Look at her face after she calls him a “pillock” and he goes “I am. But I’m learning.” She’s totally realizing that he absolutely IS right for her and she made a mistake. And then every time she catches herself looking affectionately she quickly distracts herself again.

Also she called him “Tris” and I screamed because I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her do that. Unless she did in s2′s Xmas special (still only seen it once and don’t plan to do so again), we’ve never seen that before. She only calls him “Tristan” in season 1 and doesn’t use his name at all in her tiny appearances in s2e6 or s3e1. I was SURE that she calls him Tris sometimes and now I have canonical proof that I was right.

Excellent scene. Solid 9.5. (Honestly I probably wouldn’t give any scene with these two a full 10 unless they actually talked about their feelings.) Part two on the mistletoe scene to come later.

[just-orbiting-you]

https://www.tumblr.com/just-orbiting-you/758350392674418688/im-so-so-glad-youre-being-honest-and-transparent

He made the stone tower which I think has a little big of significance of its own. It's often used to pray for someone's health. I'm also of the opinion they made it seem like they didn't meet up even once which i don't think is true and based on literal evidence isn't. We've seen how jungkook had reacted to jimin when he's been sick and when he's been crying before. The truth untold when jimin was crying and how he comforted him, massaging his neck and offering him support. Or when jimin cried during their online concert jungkook was the only one who moved towards him during the live and massaged his neck and offered him support then made him laugh. And also as jimin was talking you could see how much it affected him too just from his face. He's always always been sweet to jimin and I believe he was being again. You all the expectations we've set are based on things we've seen from them before. I guess his reaction is more up beat per the request of the show, I don't think he found it a joke but tried to make it funny. If you guys recall when he fell into the water he turns and says "this is what you guys wanted right?" while laughingbehind the camera. In reference to the fun and silliness of it. It would've been counterproductive to what they've been trying to show, like if jungkook didn't leave jimins side once because somebody needed to entertain the camera yk. Before with the members they had a chance to approach each other and be softer because the sole focus wasn't them. Also like one of the previous anons jimin has always been the type to want to be left alone when going through something and I believe jk gave him that space. I'm kinda rambling but I think im getting my point across. I have more to say but I'll leave it to after you reply :) hopetully.

https://x.com/bw_busan/status/1821606989677703230?s=46

https://x.com/jeonmygoogie/status/1821901913559912838?=46

https://x.com/sarabangtan07/status/1821599421064270328?s=46

https://x.com/mochibollalla/status/1821544623178744067?s=46

These are a few posts about it. The stones have cultural significance too. I think this is an extremely cute gesture on jungkooks part.

jk has always been a man of actions as opposed to words, so i thought him building the tower was a sweet thing to do on his part. showing his care for jimin, presumably wishing for him to feel better and have a better trip. i don’t really have that much else to say on that point, just something cute jk did.

i agree that a lot changed in just how they’re depicted on screen, simply because they don’t have the buffer of 5 other members. and i might have said it in an earlier post about jk not seeming as doting enough, i want to walk that back because i think he was just normal. i’d probably be a similar way if on a trip and a friend was sick, you don’t want to make it into something so big that it’s the only focus on the trip. you’d stop having fun, so at least try to make the most of it and i think that’s what they did. i thought jungkook apologizing and checking jimin was alright was really cute when he kicked him in front of stop and shop. you can tell they’ve been in each other’s lives for a long time. so yes, i agree with jungkook making light of the situation.

I'm also of the opinion they made it seem like they didn't meet up even once which i don't think is true and based on literal evidence isn't.

i read an opinion in another post (forgive me im forgetting where), i think we have to take it at face value. even if we know they had seen each other, it wasn’t enough. they both walked away from that time thinking “well you never saw me!” and jimin flew out to make things right. they MADE time to see each other. i think this show is just as much a chance for jikook to reconnect as it is a piece of content to share with us during enlistment.

they had probably seen each other a few times from april to may, but feb-march seemed like jungkook was almost trying to “lure” jimin by talking about him online. relationships change, we are foolish to think the members would be the exact same post hiatus, they didn’t see each other in the context of coworkers everyday anymore. and that is perfectly fine.

[xarrixii]

Chapter_43 : " 'Sight' "

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CW: archive masterlist | masterlist

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Alph heard the sound of a foot scratching along the ground and kicked left, leg stopping on the area they’d hit until they could run a hand along the little dots along the wall. Then the sound of a hand swiping over a table. They punched, again feeling the dots where their hit had connected with the wall they were training with.

“You ever get enough of that?” Mark’s voice drifted in from the, left. The hallway.

“Not particularly.” Alph grins and starts up the buzzer again, connecting their fist straight into the braille on the ‘head’ and pulling their hand back to wave it off.

Mark’s quiet for a little longer, letting Alph use the different sounds to make hits on the standstill wall. “You get tired of having to put the mannequins up each time? Just taped it all to the wall instead?”

Alph grumbled.

“There are people you could spar with, you know. The decommissioned ones.”

“Like me,” Afyer, by sound of it, had joined the conversation. “I’ve got not much else to do around here, if you’re really up for it. I’m also notorious for being easy to fight.”

“You say proudly?” Mark questions.

“It can be good for a multitude of reasons. Like being a living training exercise. Being a reference for minimum skill levels for the science team. Getting underestimated on the battlefield and managing to hit a surprise attack.” Afyer pauses. “I shrugged, by the way, Raiden. Sorry. But fighting people that are too busy laughing at how unassuming you are is very funny when you punch them in the face.”

Alph snickers, “He gets it.”

“I do agree though. Fighting the wall is not much fun, so you can fight me instead. It also won’t be the same sounds over and over again.”

“If anyone asks, I didn’t leave two pyrokinetics alone to spar.” Alph hears Mark’s footsteps recede now that they ceased punching the wall.

“Oh, I get it. Because one of Storm’s goals is demolishing that. Raiden, I’m nodding right now.”

“Thanks for the callout.”

“Really good time for Storm to invest in earpieces, right?”

Alph is digging blind through a bin full of stuff. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, okay.” Afyer giggles slightly before clearing his throat. “Storm’s big on the nonverbal callout stuff. Like, you always gotta be looking at other people. But that’s such a thing of the past, and I’ve been trying to advocate for earpieces, but everyone keeps saying it’ll encourage talking and giving info away to the enemy.”

“In a roundabout way, yeah. It would.”

“But you can’t see nonverbal cues. And you’ve quickly become one of Nacht’s favorites around here, so Nacht will definitely start adding more additions for disabilities around here. Which is really great to see.”

“Afyer,” Alph chuckles. “Not many disabled people really join the fighting business.”

Afyer considers this, suddenly a lot closer to Alph. “Oh you’d be surprised. Some of Cinder’s most powerful operatives are disabled somehow. Like Five. Five would be your uncle, right? ‘Cause Nacht’s your uncle, and Five is one of Nacht’s brothers. Five is also blind.”

“Think I could sneak in for some tips?”

“No, Five would see you.”

“You just said Five was blind.”

“Yes. But Five sees, like, heat. It’s super cool. I’ve been experimenting with it.”

“Oh.” Alph frowned. “Get anywhere?”

“No.”

Alph grumbled, still digging through the bin. “Any others? Or is it just the one? Because then, we as organizations would be even.”

“There’s also Isle. Jackstalk’s closest confidant. Really great telepath. Also deaf.”

“All of these people seem like they’ve been handed cheat codes to their disabilities because of their kinetics.” Alph sighed, finally finding, through texture and sheer will, the protective plates to give Afyer.

“I know, right? So who’s to say you won’t, too?”

“‘Cause. I’m, like, super average.”

“No,” Afyer laughed.

“No, really. I am. Like, Urban’s really, really precise, Mum’s real damn powerful, so are all her siblings. I’m just kinda, I don’t know. Some PY lucky enough to stand near a fire alarm and get accepted into a police academy program.”

Afyer hummed, randomly delighted. “That’s not average.”

“Just⸺here,” Alph tosses the plates to wherever they remembered hearing Afyer talking and gets in stance.

“Also, Nacht’s son, Raijin, has inherited some of Nacht’s power. Also, kinetics are far more likely among kinetic-wielding parents. So we know kinesis runs through blood. It’s very likely you just haven’t needed to tap into the power Amaterasu passed on.”

“I’d rather be less like my mother if at all possible.”

“Storm was a good start. Smiling, by the way.”

Alph nodded, dawning a smile of their own. “Storm was.”

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

[unknownjpegs]

touch/itch

Can’t do this anymore, is what swipes through his brain as he scrubs diligently at a grass stain on the seat of his jeans. They’re a bit muddy too, because the drink had made them both rowdy and Xavier was like that, he was like that. Messy, getting Benji into situations. Getting into Benji’s head.

Well. Yeah, they’ve known each other, what — two weeks, maybe. Possibly less. And he’s in Benji’s head already.

He starts to realize it has become a genuine problem much sooner than that night at the party. If he really assesses, which he won’t, Benji might find that it begins to creep into him not long after they first meet. That’s — well it’s something, isn’t it? That as wild and loud (there, present, taking up space and so much and so unapologetically) as Xavier registers as anything softer than incredibly fucking annoying. 

But he does. He registers as something so unique and specific that Benji notes a new little line of measurement on the scale for him. He isn’t sure how to label it. Naturally, as if it’s always kinda been there, his brain offers: Xavier. 

And that fucking worries him, and even the fact that it has such an effect bothers too. Because he’s not sure if he’s just latched on. If he’s fixating because Xavier had a pretty face before he had a shared sense of humor, remarkably similar childhood experiences. Before he a personality that Benji found agreeable, he had a face — body, if he’s inclined to go the route of full disclosure. 

He worries that it’s infatuation. Record wise, Benji doesn’t do well with infatuation. Or behave logically about a pretty face. 

Yet most surprisingly, it frustrates. At the end of the day, there isn’t much sense in letting the whole thing worry him in the first place. Xavier is the friend of a friend. Benji doesn’t have to spend as much time at theirs as he does. No necessity in letting Xavier sit next to him, always too close and yet not nearly enough. To be swept up in an easy, flowing conversation that leaves his stomach occasionally aching from laughter. For it to feel like hours only to be minutes, or the opposite. 

But let’s that all happen anyway. The frustration makes more sense, just doesn’t become less aggravating. It needles at him like an itch or a bug bite, something that feels internal. No way to get at it unless he peels himself open. Now he can’t just turn shoulder and go cold; there’s a pair of sad, wet green eyes in his mind at the very idea. 

He isn’t behaving as he usually would — how long had the prickliness lasted until it felt put-on? Minutes. If he’s honest about it. Which, fucking frankly, he doesn’t want to be anymore. Only place it’s gotten him is worried and annoyed.

*

And high. Incredibly, fundamentally high. 

He’s never been high before. That tidbit of information he almost regrets sharing for how Xavier teases him, but the shocked, delighted little laugh at follows the ribbing is worth it entirely. Benji scowls at that thought when it occurs to him. Worried.

“You do that real quick,” he says, cheek squished in his palm. “Lotsa practiced, ‘ey?” 

Xavier pauses mid roll of their second joint, his tongue out near the edge of paper. “I don’t like how you said that.” 

He has to look away from the flash of pink, the curve of his mouth deepened by humor. Benji’s focus is beginning to catch on certain things. Linger in the soupy layer draping itself around his brain. He really can’t explain away an unblinking, hypnotized gaze on a mouth with anything that doesn’t make him sound massively perverted. 

“Said it a way?” The paper rolls smoothly between long fingers. Benji realizes he’s looked to Xavier again, instead of kept his eyes out the window. 

“Lots of practice, heyyyy?” Xavier drawls meanly, lip curled on one side. He’s emphasizing all the sounds funny. By the terrible rolling R, Benji gathers it’s a really poor Scouse.

“That’s shit,” he says, smiling softly. “That’s proper fucking shit, Xavier, that impression. N’you know it.” 

Xavier mocks him again, sounding no better than the first. His head bobs this way and that, lip tucked between his teeth by the end of it. The shrug he offers is nastily innocent, shoulders rounded to inspect the twist at the end with a thumbnail. Glances up between his lashes to coyly tease: 

“What? Just how you sound.” 

It’s not, he wants to argue and can’t — Benji doesn’t sound like anything. Benji suddenly is unable to formulate any thought beside ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck. 

“Naw.” He finally manages, clearing his throat. It feels dry already, like Xavier warned it would. There’s a strange tingle in his fingers and toes, like he’s about to be cold, and his heartbeat has become something noticeable in his chest. He swallows again, but doesn’t argue any further. It feels better to focus in the feeling of the (beer stained, liquid damaged) kitchen table beneath his palm. The woodgrain trails nicely under the pad of his thumb. Feels like little rivers and valleys against the texture, scratches something at the base of his skull. 

“S’crazy,” he mutters dreamily. Xavier glances quickly up at the soft tone, joint bitten between his teeth. He flaps a hand in the air, so Benji takes the lighter out of his pocket and slides it across the table. Xavier misses it, even though it doesn’t move all that fast. They both descend into too-hysterical giggles when it smacks into the wall behind him. 

“Nice pass.”

“Real athletic.” 

They snark at each other the same exact moment, which is enough to have them kicking off in peels of laughter again. Benji holds his abdomen, winces at the ache. When he thinks back on the last few hours, it’s all been laughter. 

“What’s crazy?” Xavier asks once the lighter has been retrieved, their joint started expertly. “Here, just…Benji, look, you’re gonna cough the other lung out if you try it the cigarette way again.”

“But everybody says —”

“Everybody lies,” Xavier interrupts. He stands up, braving himself on the tabletop with one hand while he leans over to pass. Benji’s eyes slip up the nonsense arrangement of tattoos up his arm, images charmingly disjointed and placements chosen at random. Aesthetic without Xavier putting the effort in to make it so. Benji likes that. Respects it, thinking of his own and the silly pleasure behind adding something else on a whim. 

He wonders if Xavier would like something on a whim, if he’d trust Benji’s at-home kit. That makes him smile as he sits up to take the cherry-ended roll between his fingers. Makes him suck in a slight breath when already-damp paper touches to his lips. 

He tries to be normal about what that means. 

*

One giggling, hush-voiced trip to the cornerstone later, they’ve crashed on the couch. A television idle screen flashes blue and red over their faces. There’s a bag of crisps balanced atop Benji’s knee that, when reached for, turns up empty. Benji does not remember emptying it, but there’s a smudge of sensation at the corner of his mouth along with the distant ring in his ears. When his finger comes away from that spot it’s stained the same bright firetruck red as the crisps. 

“Hm.” He says thoughtfully, sticking it into his mouth. “Want to watch something?”

Xavier, knees tucked under his chin, turns to look at him. 

“We just —” he pauses, blinking several times when their eyes meet. Benji looks away from his curling mouth. “Oh, man. Oh shit. You ok?”

His knees are bouncing, hair twisting and untwisting around a finger while his other hand occupies itself with a rhythm on his thigh. It’s separate from the one his feet kick at — fidgeting in three different ways is unlike him. 

“Yeah,” Benji responds. “Why?”

“Because we already did.” Xavier rotates, pulling his legs up until he’s fully on the couch. “Watch something, I mean. We watched two somethings. You talked, like, nonstop through both of them.”

“I did?” He feels a grin threatening. Goes so wide it gets sore, because Xavier has one of his own. “Oh. Maybe — fuckin’ hell. Can’t move my head too fast.” 

“Here, man.” A pillow smacks gently against his face. Benji bats it away with a laughing scowl. “Get yourself comfortable, in that case. You’re about to get hit with the second half and you’ll want to be horizontal.” 

Benji hesitates, pillow clutched between his fingers as he considers the tiny amount of space between them. It isn’t a small couch, but Xavier’s not a small lad. Benji does not look at the splay of his knees or the hem of his shirt he’s been tugging or the loose neckline revealing way too much when he leans forward like that. Xavier tilts his chin, peering into Benji’s eyes assentingly for a moment. Benji watches back heavy-lidded. And then he pulls quickly away, or maybe at regular speed and Benji’s just…there. Going at a different pace of time.

He clears his throat. “Sorry, but…you’re gonna sleep so good, dude.”

“Feels like it.” The laugh bubbles out rough and airy, breath through his teeth. “Can you hand me that?”

Another pillow smacks into his face. 

He tugs it away, tucked beneath his chin. Kicks at Xavier across the couch. It takes a moment to settle. His mum always called it Benji’s gettin’ situated. Worst part of raising him, she would tease. He’s got a distinct memory of being whinging before bed once, giving her the runaround while begging for a story. It must have driven her absolutely up the wall to give in, only to wait for him to set up the pillows and blankets on his bed just right. 

Why can’t you keep it how it is, Benji? She’d asked in amused frustration. You’ll have to move them all when you get to sleep. And he’d responded simply, with sense that seemed only obvious to him: Amma, ‘cuz this is story time pillows. Sleep pillows are different.

Maran’ll go at him about it too, grumbling exaggeratedly under his breath when Benji demands another blanket — or for him to flip it, because one side feels better than the other. Requests they swap shirts, borrow a pair of socks that won’t bother with a seam.

Xavier doesn’t make a single comment while he shifts and shuffles, tucking both pillows and then squirming when the padding doesn’t feel right, when the metal zipper teeth of one brushes the small of his back in a strange way. But Benji has the need to explain.

“Y’know how, in summer, you’ve got the fan on and you want the temperature but the actual — “ he waves his hand at his face, settling back into the miniature pillow fort with a content sigh, “the actual breeze on you doesn’t feel right?”

“No,” Xavier says with a little smile. When he bends forward for the remote, Benji’s gaze feathers over the curve of his spine. “But I guess it’s probably like wool for me.”

Benji tips his chin back and groans extravagantly. “Fuckin’ hate wool, mate. And, makes me sound posh, but polyester? Cheap costume material, y’know. Fuck that.”

“Fuck that.” Xavier agrees, laughing breathily. “Uh. Sometimes eggs weird me out.”

Benji sits up, his eyes widening past their sleep weight. “Piss off.” He says with a burst of giggles. “Oh, you get it. I need to…like I’ve got to,” he smacks a hand to his thigh, gesturing at the side of the couch, “Only wear certain trousers. The—”

“Texture.” Xavier offers sagely when Benji’s brow pulls, brain searching for the word unsuccessfully. “I hate when my hair grows past my ears. It tickles. And I’m picky about blankets.” 

Benji snaps his fingers. “I’ve got this ancient blue shirt with fish on it, don’t remember where it came from, but it’s just about the only thing I’ll wear to sleep right now.” Xavier blinks several times, so Benji shrugs. “Dunno. Good feel to it, I s’pose?” A palm smooths over his chest back and forth, chest hair scratching beneath his shirt. “Doesn’t catch or anything.”

“I think,” the other man says, and his tone is strange enough that Benji glances back over at him from where the televisions’ off flicker drew him. “I think that’s my shirt.” 

Benji looks at him. Xavier looks back. Benji licks his lips, shifts in place.“Not many Boston Aquariums in Liverpool, so that checks.” 

Xavier snorts. The weird tension dispels somewhat, but not all the way. Benji hopes the shirt isn’t sentimental. “Shocking.”

“It’s comfortable. That shirt. Won’t be giving it back.” He says mindlessly, plucking at a stray threat on the blanket tossed over all their legs. Xavier’s lips part, but he doesn’t see it.

Xavier looks like he deflates a bit, but it isn’t in the sad sort of kicked way he curls up with discomfort, hands coming together to wind in circles or flatten to the back of his head in distress. It’s an all-over relaxing. “Yeah. Alright.” 

Benji’s turn to ask now, so he does it cheekily:  “Feeling okay? Bit too much?” 

He nods in response, chin bobbing theatrically; tipped back, the line of his throat looks somehow longer. Benji’s debating on the appropriateness of thinking that way about a friend when it flexes around words. “You can keep it. That shirt. It was big on me anyway.”

And just like that, the image of it on Xavier springs unwanted to the forefront of his imagination. Wearing it. Wearing it too big. Hanging like the shirt he’s wearing now, except — not just a little bit of loose fabric but wearing it big, hanging off a pale, freckled shoulder. Showing the severe cut of a collarbone. Maybe…maybe too long, instead of loose. Maybe when he wears it, the hem drapes over his thighs. And then Benji’s brain spirals thighs and skin and shirt and maybe, maybe nothing else? It offers him the embarrassingly clear mental image of his hand there, shoving it up further. Xavier lifting it himself, maybe. Slow and teasing so Benji can run knuckles under the fabric as it goes, so he can touch —  

Benji falls back against the couch with another sticky gulp, tossing both arms over his face.  

 Xavier yawns. He tucks his long arms behind his back when he does it. Benji gets that flash of worry and frustration. Followed by the unwelcome, unignorable lick of heat. “Yeah, there it is. Don’t know how the fuck you’re conscious. I definitely overdid it, so sorry if you’re…” he giggles, fucking giggles, Benji’s fist clenches. “Uh, out there.”

His focus slides in lazy circles around Xavier’s face. Deep-set, sleepy eyes still somehow flashing playfully aware, freckles, mouth, mouth, mouth.

He pats his thigh. He isn’t sure what exactly possesses him. Except, no, that isn’t true. He is. He knows exactly what comes over him. Face and sense of humor and all the rest of it, of him, because Benji’s fucking awful with infatuation, worse with a face. And because sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s meant to stop drinking because the bubbles burst in his skull, the warmth in his gut soothes. 

I’m not gonna fucking compare you to substances. Benji thinks seriously, holding Xavier’s gaze until his eyes threaten to dry out. He blinks once. I am not gonna compare you to alcohol.

It isn’t awkward. They don’t know each other well enough for this. And it isn’t awkward, somehow. When Xavier adjusts himself forward, bent in half and looming over Benji for one slow-motion beat, he holds his breath. Waits for the kick of annoyance in his gut as he lays a cheek on Benji’s lap. Not directly. There’s a pillow there; his wrist feels stiff in the morning if he sleeps funny.  

“Can I touch your hair?” Benji finds himself asking. His voice sounds funny to his own ears. “Sorry. That’s weird, isn’t it? I just — it’s —” A hand curls around his wrist and tugs it away, pulls it down his stomach and lower. To where Xavier’s head rests in his lap. In my lap, he’s thinking with wide eyes, somehow unable to look away from the contrast of their skin. In my fucking lap. Xavier looks so stark and strange against him. And Benji’s down hand looks — looks — 

He chuckles. “No, no. Go for it. It’s…it’s fine. Sometimes if I know I want to go interstellar, I’ll grab one of those little fidget things.” Xavier’s cheeks redden, but he keeps talking as if it’s impossible to stop. “It’s good to touch something.” 

“Aw,” Benji’s returning laugh is halting. Pushed out on a breath, spindled like yarn on some sharp object that feels lodged in his chest. “Much softer than it looks.” 

“God, right? Matilda gets on me about the ends. I need it cut.”

“Ears.” Benji says solemnly. “Looks good that length. Uh, I can do it, if you want.” He rubs a lock between his fingers thoughtfully. He was right. The texture is good like this, when his head feels porous and light and slow. “Maran’s not too fucked up most of the time.” 

Xavier huffs. He rubs his cheek against the pillow with a sigh. “Most.” He squeaks (actually squeaks, so fucking delightful) when Benji pinches his ear for the cheek. If his fingers move a bit slower than they should over the cuff hugging the cartilage, neither says a word. 

There’s a beat, then: “M’tired.” 

“Yeah.”

“Like, real tired. You were fuckin’ right, you prick.”

They talk in halting monosyllables for several minutes, each sentence hanging on for a second longer. The words becoming meaningless, syntax totally gone. They talk just to do it, just to keep going, eager to hear the other, hungry to be heard and understood. Later down the line, Maran will tease him mercilessly for having a ‘nasty, embarrassing daft little grin’ on sleeping face the next morning.

that’s how Benji discovers he might need to be a bit more careful when it comes to the general consumption of mind-altering substances around Xavier. Because being around Xavier makes him feel mind-altered to begin.

Benji grimaces. 

Aw. There it is. Gone and compared you. The thought plows through his brain. It’s the second to last complete one he has before he knocks out. His hand stills through Xavier’s hair, fingers wound firm but not tight. The last thought is: FUCK.

He pushes his scrunched nose into the pillow beside him, even if he hates the scratch of fabric on his facial hair. It’s not the strong, massive hand tucked around his ankle or the soft red line across Xavier’s cheek from his sleeve that makes him shiver. It’s that scratch of fabric, the unbearable fucking internal itch. It can’t be anything else.

Fuck.

[totally-average-kid]

UHHHH HERES ME SPEEDRUNNING MY SONA LORE AND FIGURED I MIGHT AS WELL INFO DUMP ABOUT IT ON HERE AS WELL!!

(Lore under cut because its kinda long.)

DANNY LORE:

Danny was adopted by Kae Stella with his “twin brother” (they call each other twins cause they got adopted on the same day and they’ve always stuck together) Pasta one day. So the family is Viper (older brother), Kae (mom), And Danny and pasta (Twins).

During their high school years, they decided to move out of the house. While Danny was doing homework one day: Pasta brought back a black cat. Pasta already holding the cat and getting attached, They decided to keep them. A couple of months later, the cat disappeared. But on the same day they met a new friend named “Scout.” After a while of hanging out with Scout, they found out that they don’t have a home. So they offered for Scout to stay at their place. So they all live together as roommates. Eventually they do find out that Scout is a eldritch being so… swag.

One day: Both Pasta and Danny got into a really heated argument. So Danny storms off and goes on a trip to the mountains with Viper and his friend: Motley to get away from the house. Not bothering to say goodbye as he slams the door. As they were at a Waffle House in the mountains. Motley decided to do something funny. They murder Danny. Motley convinced Viper to help them hide the body and run. Days later: Pasta goes to the mountains to try and cut their quarrel. Star goes to the cabins that they were staying at but Motley said that Danny went missing and they didn’t know where he went. A couple of hours of searching later and Pasta comes across the Waffle House. They search in a couple of areas before finding Danny’s corpse on the floor, looking like he was dropped out of an open cabinet. (BTW, THERE ARE MISSING POSTERS FOR DANNY AROUND THE TOWN)

They hosted a improv funeral for Danny and later down the line, Pasta’s soul unstable and triggered the first Super Nova. Pasta also spent a lot of time repressing the memories that Danny’s dead and they convinced starself that he just went missing.

A couple of months afterwords: Danny’s spirit awakens as a ghost. While Danny’s memories of the murder are foggy, he remembers everything else about his life. He spends the first couple of days until one day he finally found out how to be visible again. As soon as he was visible again: he ran towards the house on a pouring day. Announcing that he’s back. Scout instantly knows what’s up but Pasta hugs him home, luckily for Danny’s tangibility kicking at the right moment.

Danny talks with scout if they should break the news to everyone that.. Well: he’s dead! Scout advices him not to, saying that Pasta might not be able to handle it. So: Danny is desperately trying to make sure that no one catches on that he’s a ghost.

For the first couple of days: Danny cant really control his ghostly powers. Phasing through the bunk bed and looking more unsettling at moments. But he does get the hang of it eventually. But some things that will happen with Danny is that:

A: Taking photos with them is EXTREMELY hard. The photos come out glitched and stuff and it always blurs out Danny’s face.

B: They bled flowers before their death: But it was more of just tiny petals before they became droplets of blood. Now it’s in full swing. His blood are blooming red dahlias with a green inside.

C: The more damaged Danny gets: The more ghostly he looks. So I’ll break it down in stages.

1: Danny starts to get a ghostly aura around him 2: His hair starts to float 3: tangibility drops 4: Just full on corpse look

D: Danny is cold at all times

[princessmossy]

Okie! Well I’m aroace! I wasn’t gonna say anything because of how hostile tumblr can be to us but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Really my experiences has been pretty... mild? Offline people actually are very accepting of my identity if I mention it. Some people didn’t really understand it or maybe assumed I’d magically become normal when I reached 19 (my step mom and my dad a little bit) but they’ve never been outright hostile just confused. My mom was just like ‘cool!’ And accepted it pretty easily. The only really unfortunate, frustrating, but kinda funny moment in my life was when my mormon(?) or other strange subset of Christian, Aunt tried to set me up with a 40 year old when I was 20. But I have never liked her anyway cause she’s also really transphobic. She literally went ‘I think I’ve found your SOULMATE how do you feel about dating a 40 year old?’ And I just started at her for a second before going back for more mashed potatoes at dinner time. Growing up I never really... realized my identity? I didn’t notice when everyone else fell in love and I didn’t because I always thought I wanted to as well. You see I actually just didn’t notice I was aromantic for a long time because of how much I enjoyed romance stuff. I like shipping, I like watching people fall in love and all the tropes, but ONLY when it’s queer! I’d get bored of most straight romances, romance songs tended to bore me when they’re straight, and romcoms drain the life outta me especially Adam Sandler ones. (I’m thinking of the one where they go to Africa I think. I hate that movie.) So I assumed since I liked some of this stuff maybe I would like being in a relationship hahahahahahaha. My first and last boyfriend was at 16. We were a little awkward and shy and I tried to do the things that people who like each other do, holding hands, going on dates, even though they made me uncomfortable. But then turns out he didn’t want to do them either cause it made him uncomfortable too for different reasons. I then confessed to him that I would probably never have sex ever in my life, it wasn’t happening, and he said he really wanted to try having sex at least once so we split up after realizing that we weren’t gonna work out cause of that. After that I realized ‘wow! That sucked! Never repeating that again!’ And so I didn’t! I have people I care about, my little brother and sister, my mother and father, my friends, my entire streaming community! The only time I have ever faced real rejection is from people online. Exclustionists who came at me and insist I’m not opressed, even though I never said anything to them. So I shut my identity away online mostly. I have the lgbt tag in my twitch catagories but not the asexual or the aromantic ones. I’m still scared of getting hate from people online I guess. I am very cautious telling people online too, typically only bringing it up when a personal boundary has been crossed. But overall I haven’t experienced anything too severe. To me any sort of oppression has been more of a mild inconvenience. My aunt tried to fix me? I don’t care she’s barely in my life so I can ignore her. My dad is confused about my identity? That’s understandable it’s very different from what he knows so I just calmly explain it again. People online are mean? Block them or turn the computer off and I’m fine again. I’m probably pretty lucky that I haven’t faced any real hatred in my life. But in a way it’s sad cause I do still feel the need to protect myself by not telling others my identity. I don’t really feel like I can be open if I want my life to remain chill like this. But with who it matters I am able to tell them these things and be able to live happily. Not everyone needs to know and that’s okay!

Hiya, it's Bandit Hagstone of the Dazed Puppy Daires!! As you may or may not know I'm AroAce and I really wanna make a zine pertaining to the a-spectrum. Even before more recently realizing that I'm aro I really wanted to make a zine about the diversity of experiences amongst the ace spectrum. I think sometimes it's forgotten that ace and aro identities fall on a spectrum and that our experiences aren't a monolith. If you're a-spec and interested in participating comment or reblog this post and write something about your a-spec experience. If you'd like to be sourced as anonymous or something other than your username please let me know. Also with that said you could leave me an ask as well rather than commenting or re-blogging if you'd prefer. Seeing I want to write about the diversity of experience amongst a-spec people I'd love to hear about yours and share it in my zine!! Lastly I do ask if you're writing something to be included in the zine that you're 18+. If you have any questions or feedback please let me know I'd love to hear.

[frightmarefalls]

something about all this just feels out of place ngl