#like I recommend something and the watch it? then they want to get to know me! they don't engage with it? They have no interests in knowing

[liondrakes]

Absolutely. Speaking as a writer, I could tell from jump that there’s no satisfaction in using gen-AI. Even if someone took out all moral disputes regarding the technology, I’d still have no incentive to use it.

This technology doesn’t know what I know on a personal level. It doesn’t know my style. It doesn’t know the themes or angles I want to tackle. Even if I gave it this information, it’d be a derivative of what I actually want to convey.

Why would I waste my time using it for my work?

There is nothing satisfying about asking a bot to “write” what I’m thinking of and watching said bot spit back “content” that it scraped from somewhere else. If I wanted a story that was loosely stitched together, I’d sift through my old WIPs from high school or undergrad, pick out what I liked, and stitch something together myself.

It will never have the satisfaction of writing out the ideas circulating in my head, knocking out the ones I’m not too into and making outlines for the idea that wins me over.

It will never have the satisfaction of the drafting process— the moment you finally get to write, to go through the trial and error of how you want to present your work. It’s hard. It’s time-consuming. It’s humbling, but it’s rewarding all the same.

It will never have the satisfaction of sharing what you’re working on with other people. It’s certainly nerve-wracking if you’re looking to publish, but I’m talking about friends, mutuals on social media, other writers in Discord servers and forums, et cetera. It doesn’t even need to be completed. Exchange drafts with people. Organize the notes you’ve taken on your characters, and share them as OCs (because that’s basically what they are).

I get none of that from gen-AI.

You know what I get? Empty words from a generated response.

I’m impartial to that. It’s technology at the end of the day. It’s programmed to do this. Yet, it’s still one of many reasons why I’ll never touch it as a writer. Empty ideas, empty criticisms and empty feedback in general get me nowhere. It doesn’t motivate me to write, and it damn sure doesn’t help me improve what I’m writing.

Furthermore, sharing that you told a bot to “create” something holds no weight. Anybody can do that, and I find it funny when this sentiment is used to defend gen-AI. The bot scrapes together anything it can muster to give you results. It does the same for anyone else who uses it, thus you have nothing of interest to show.

Not only would using gen-AI deprive me of what makes the creative process so worthwhile, it also keeps me in a cycle of monotony. Writing stops being a creative practice. It becomes boredom.

Tech companies pitched a vacuum of button-pressing and sold it to people under the guise of efficiency. Meanwhile, their idea of efficiency guts the entire experience.

If someone told me as a teen that if I love writing, and that I should give ChatGPT a try, I likely wouldn’t care for their suggestion.

Think of it this way: if someone recommended you a video game, and also recommended you to look at a bunch of walkthroughs and shortcuts while playing it, would you?

It’d defeat the purpose of playing the game, right? You don’t get the full experience that way.

Why scrape the arts and miss everything when you alone hold the key to that experience?

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[luvergirl-866]

that’s so true

word count - 8.3k

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

c/w - language, toxic p/toxic relationship (situationship) (kinda toxic a too)? i guess you could call it angst? but it’s very unserious bc i’ve been doing too much serious stuff. fluff and happy ending. very dialogue heavy

a/n - i don’t usually like to incorporate music into my fics but the anon who gave this prompt specifically recommended it so i hope i did it justice! also, this takes place azzi’s freshman year so like 2021/2022, and i know this song didn’t exist then but this is fiction so i can do what i want 😛. hope yall enjoy!!!

They only have five minutes before they’re supposed to leave with everybody else to Ted’s. Unfortunately for Azzi, Paige Bueckers is very hot and also very much on top of her, and both of these things coincide to create quite the predicament: they can’t stop kissing.

It’s normal for them, lately. Kissing is easier than talking, considering talking has gotten harder since they started—whatever this is. Or maybe restarted is a better word, considering they did this same thing in high school. But back then, the kissing was a little clumsier, often fast and desperate, whereas now they’re older, mature (yeah, right) and they take their time with these things, often just making out for hours before they move on to other things, relishing in not having to worry about either of their parents or siblings barging in on them like they used to.

There’s also another difference—back then, they were dating. Like, introducing each other as their girlfriends, going on dates, holding-hands-in-public dating.

That’s different because today—and for the past six months—they’ve been decidedly not dating.

“We don’t need distractions,” Paige had said after they’d fucked, only a month after Azzi came to UConn. (They had both agreed to stay just friends—best friends—but nothing more. But then they had to live in the same building and watch each other get all hot and sweaty at practice and see each other in skimpy pajamas and who were they to blame, really, when they fucked in that club bathroom one heated but sober night? They had spent a year broken up, a year of being long-distance besties, FaceTiming and texting and posting each other on socials with captions like “happy birthday i miss you” and “come see me”. It honestly would’ve been wrong for them to not fuck.)

“Mm—Paige, wait,” Azzi whispers when they finally separate for air.

“What’s up,” Paige says, eyes roving over every inch of Azzi’s face. Her voice is a little raspy from lack of use and it does things to Azzi’s tummy.

“I—you don’t—we need to go,” Azzi urges, pushing at Paige’s shoulders. Paige, of course, just smiles at that, pressing her knee up in between Azzi’s legs. It’s really not her fault when she gasps a little.

Paige chuckles, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then between her eyebrows. “Do we?” she mumbles, pecking the tip of Azzi’s nose and the corner of her mouth. “Like, do we really?”

“Yes, Paige, we do.” Azzi moves one of her hands down to Paige’s occupied thigh, trying desperately to separate the toned muscle from her aching core. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Definitely not as much fun as this is.”

“Well, we can continue later, when we get home.” That gets Paige to move her knee back, offering Azzi both relief and leaving an ache between her legs. She does her best to flash a sultry smile. “It’s a weekend. We can stay up all night if we want.”

Paige looks at her skeptically. “I thought you were stayin’ sober?”

Azzi moves her head back and forth. “Might not.”

“For real?”

“Uh-huh.” Azzi winds her arms around Paige’s shoulders, then scratches a little roughly down the length of her back, something Paige has always been into. It works, Paige’s jaw dropping just enough to show the pink of her tongue. “I want it, too, P. We just can’t ditch the team again. I think they already suspect us.”

“What?” Paige makes a face and scoffs. “Nah, we’re sneaky.”

“You called me babe in front of everyone at practice.”

“That’s a friend thing.” Paige waggles her eyebrows and plants a kiss on her lips, as if to prove just how friendly they are.

“Nika saw you basically groping me the other day, too.”

“I never did that.”

“My apartment, the kitchen. Movie night. I was making popcorn and you came up behind me and grabbed my tits.”

“Hm. Don’t remember that.”

“You said ‘I wanna fuck you from behind right now,’ and poor Nika walked in and stared at us and said, ‘This doesn’t look like you’re making popcorn��.”

Paige groans, dropping her head into Azzi’s shoulder and effectively laying the entire length of her body on Azzi’s. “I did wanna fuck you from behind. You were wearing those jeans…”

“Paige!”

“Okay, whatever.” Paige is a little muffled now, buried in the crook of Azzi’s neck. Her breath tingles, sending hot shivers up the length of her arm. “I do that to everyone, Nika won’t think anything of it.”

“Oh, really,” Azzi says, tone dropping into something utterly unamused, and Paige’s head pops up when she hears it. “So you say things like that to every bitch?”

Paige’s eyes widen. “No!” she grapples for something to say, and Azzi just raises an eyebrow at her. “I don’t—I meant—I just didn’t wanna admit you’re right, I wasn’t—baby.” Paige juts out her bottom lip. It kinda works. “You know I wasn’t thinkin’.”

This is another interesting thing about their current situation: because they’re not dating, they’ve never discussed where they stand in terms of other people. Sure, at the very beginning, they agreed since it was just casual sex, there was no reason for them to be exclusive. They didn’t want to get anywhere near that line of the all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school, and they figured seeing other people—or at least having the option to do so—would steer them clear of that. And it worked for about…two seconds.

But then somewhere down the line things got a little blurry and slowly but surely Azzi stopped thinking of them as friends with benefits and as more of a slightly complicated but also fun situationship. Because at some point they started kissing without the goal of sex or even third base, just little pecks here and there when they had a second alone. And then they started staying a little longer each time after they’d fuck—at first, they’d leave directly after. But then they would stay for some basic aftercare, and then it got to full-on snuggling, and then it got to their clothes in each other’s apartments from how often they’d stay the night with each other. And the most recent development which really cemented things for Azzi: Paige has started using pet names outside the bedroom, something she only ever did while they were girlfriends. It’s only been a few weeks since this started and Azzi was absolutely floored when Paige had picked up her phone call with a, “Hey, baby.”

And now here they are, late for yet another night out because Paige is very clearly scandalized at the mere notion of her seeing another girl—even though it’s supposed to be allowed—and Azzi has to be honest, she doesn’t love the idea, either.

“Aw, c’mon,” Paige says when Azzi doesn’t reply. “Don’t be mad at me, mama.”

Azzi blinks up at her, officially not jealous and not overthinking about their complicated situation any longer. “You’re stupid,” she teases, scooting back and sitting up.

Paige follows closely, so that by the time Azzi is propped up against the headboard she’s on her lap. “You’re really stopping us?” she asks.

“We’re already late, I’m sure everybody left without us,” Azzi says, tapping Paige encouragingly on the hip, “so yes.”

Paige doesn’t yet move and doesn’t look like she’s going to until a sharp knock at the door makes both of them jolt. “Hey!” It’s Aaliyah’s voice. “Y’all cannot be taking this long to get ready.”

“I don’t…we just…” Azzi stammers as Paige scrambles off her, and they both get quickly to their feet, making as little noise as possible, “our hair wasn’t cooperating,” she says, reaching up to fix Paige’s tousled hair. “We’ll be right out!”

“You better be, we’re all waiting outside and it’s fucking cold.”

“Coming!” Azzi calls, letting Paige wipe some of her smudged lip gloss, rolling her eyes when Paige smirks at her and says, “Oh, you will be.”

She has no idea what Paige Bueckers is to her, but an annoyance will always take the top spot.

————————————————

When Azzi had claimed she’d stay sober with the other freshmen, she hadn’t accounted for the fact that she has a best friend who loves to party and who loves peer pressuring even more.

“C’mon, just a few shots,” Paige pouts, leaning in too close to her. Azzi glances around the bar, trying to see if anybody is watching them, but she can’t tell. There’s too many people.

“Nobody can hear us,” Paige assures her, placing her hands low on Azzi’s hips, pressing her into the wall of the corner they’re semi-hidden in.

Azzi swears this girl is horrible for her blood pressure. “Paige,” she hisses, removing Paige’s hands, “not here.”

“You shoulda let us stay home,” Paige says, and now that her hands are placed firmly at her sides her eyes do all the wandering for them, raking slowly down Azzi’s body and back up. “I woulda had you fucked out by now, I swear.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Azzi mumbles.

“You seem anxious, baby.” Bravely, Paige holds her again, though this time it’s at a more friendly place, higher up on her waist. Azzi tries to meet her eyes but they’re held firmly on her lips. “Fuck. I wanna kiss you so bad.”

“No, Paige,” Azzi says, as sternly as possible. She would rather like to kiss her too, but not here, not now, not when Paige is tipsy and Azzi is horrendously sober.

“Okay, I’ma go get me another dirty shirley.” Azzi swears she would marry that drink if she could. “And I’ma grab a couple shots for you while I’m at it. And then we’re gonna fuck in the bathroom.”

Azzi smacks Paige on the arm. “I’m done with public restrooms. Once was enough.”

Paige, still sober enough to have some sort of common sense, wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’m still grabbing shots.” She smacks a wet kiss onto her forehead and with that, turns around to head toward the bar.

Azzi doesn’t get a second of peace before someone else is sidling up to her. Though when she looks over she sighs with relief when it’s just Caroline. “Hey, Carol.”

“You’re so lucky you have a girlfriend who’ll buy you shots,” Caroline says, looking wistfully in Paige’s direction.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Caroline side-eyes her. “Uh-huh.”

“She’s not. We broke up.”

“And then got back together.”

Azzi shoves her away before pulling her back, linking their arms together as she leads them towards their team’s section of seats. “Nope. We’re still exes.”

“Exes who are romantically involved.”

“Carol,” Azzi groans, urging her to shut up as they approach the rest of the girls. “We’re just friends.”

It used to leave a bitter taste in her mouth, lying to her closest friend, the one whose shoulder she cried on when she and Paige broke up. But after six months of doing it, she’s used to it. And it’s not like Caroline believes her, anyway.

“Okay,” Caroline says skeptically. “So if the guy that’s been looking at you since we got here asked for your number, you’d give it to him?”

They’re at the team’s booth now, and Amari perks up at the mention of the slightest possibility of drama. “What guy?”

“I haven’t noticed a guy,” Azzi says, which is the truth. As it usually goes, she’s only had eyes for Paige tonight.

“Over there,” Carol says, leaning against the table and gesturing subtly across the bar. “Muscle shirt.”

“Immediately no,” Azzi replies, not even looking for him in the group of guys across the room. But he must be actively searching her out because just as she’s about to look away she catches his eye, and even though she immediately looks away, she can still see him grin out of the corner of her eye.

“Uh-oh,” Amari mutters. “You engaged him.”

“Don’t make eye contact,” Azzi says, turning away from him to face her friends. “Make yourself unapproachable.”

Caroline turns away, too, and the two of them lean over the table.

Aaliyah looks up from the conversation she was having. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Hiding,” Azzi hisses.

Amari peeks around Azzi’s shoulder, then settles back in her seat. “He’s coming over.”

“What?” Azzi wants to look at him but doesn’t, instead inching herself closer to Caroline. “Save me.”

“Who is that?” Aaliyah asks, not-so-subtly staring at the guy.

“A man about to flirt with Azzi,” Caroline says, nudging her away.

“Oh, Paige is gonna be maddd,” Aaliyah sing-songs, and they all giggle like this is funny and not absolutely awkward and stress-inducing.

Azzi glares at them. “She has no reason to be mad.” And it’s true, she kind of doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean she won’t.

“Oh, yeah?” Caroline asks, glancing behind them just as Azzi feels the man come up behind her. “We’ll see about that.”

And then there’s a tap on her shoulder, and Azzi takes a deep breath before turning around with a strained smile on her face.

“Hey.” Muscle shirt is standing a little too close for comfort, which she’s sure he’ll excuse by the crowded bar but is obviously just him being weird. “You’re Azzi, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi says, leaning back against the table.

“I’ve seen you around,” he continues, smiling cockily, obviously very proud of himself for being brave enough to approach her. “You come here a lot, right? To Ted’s?”

Azzi shrugs, looking casually to her side in the hopes that Caroline will rescue her, but to her astonishment she has slid into the booth next to Aaliyah and is now chatting happily with the rest of the team. “I guess.”

“Noticed you weren’t with Bueckers,” he says, and she winces. Not five sentences into the conversation and he’s already brought up her current situationship. “Thought it was a good opening.” He laughs. She doesn’t.

“How so?” she asks, a little nervously.

“I mean, she obviously doesn’t want anybody coming near you.” A girl squeezes past behind him and he takes it as an excuse to inch even closer to her. Azzi presses herself further back into the table. “Can’t even look your way without her looking like she’s gonna fight someone.”

“She’s just protective,” Azzi says. As if Paige would do that for any of their friends, as if that level of pure possessiveness is normal.

“Right.” He doesn’t sound fully convinced. “You didn’t ask my name.”

God. Why are men so…gross? “My bad.” He stares at her expectantly. “Uh…so…?”

“I’m Elliot,” he says, grinning at her. That muscle shirt is really not doing good things for him. “You want me to buy you a drink?”

“Um, actually—“

“She’s good.”

Azzi’s shoulders sag at the mere sound of Paige’s voice. She can’t help but smile when Paige approaches them, moving roughly past Elliot to sidle up next to her. She hands her two brightly colored shots before slinging an arm around her, firmly ignoring Elliot. “Gotchu these. Lemme know if you don’t like ‘em.”

Azzi nods, and usually she’d shy away from the physical contact, especially right in front of their friends, but now she leans into it, safe under Paige’s arm. “Thanks.”

“Sorry I took so long.” As if sensing her discomfort—which she probably can—she rubs her thumb soothingly over her shoulder. “They’re super busy up there. You okay?”

Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but Elliot interrupts her. “She’s fine, dude. We’re just talking.”

Paige looks at him. “Aight. Well, you can be done talking now.”

Their teammates have gone mostly quiet behind them, and Azzi rolls her eyes when she hears them snickering.

Elliot scoffs, but he’s skinny and a little shorter than Paige, and when her arm tightens around Azzi’s shoulder he puts his hands up. “Damn, okay.”

Azzi breathes a sigh of relief when he’s gone. “Thank god. That was so awkward.”

“You shoulda called me,” Paige says, dropping her arm to turn around and face their teammates. “And y’all shoulda helped her out.”

The girls look up at them innocently. Amari smiles charmingly at Paige and says, “We knew you were gonna do it soon enough.”

Azzi shakes her head and downs one of the shots. It is as disgusting as it looks.

“You guys suck,” Paige says, pulling Azzi into her side once again. “Leaving my girl in the trenches like that.”

Dozens of eyebrows raise at that, and it’s then that Azzi smells the booze on Paige’s breath. She flushes, trying to pull away. “P,” she mutters.

“I know,” Paige says, holding fast to Azzi’s waist, setting her shirley on the table so she can wrap the other around her, too.

“Paige,” Azzi urges, pressed completely now into Paige’s chest and trying desperately to ignore the scrutinizing looks from her teammates. She hopes they’re all too drunk to think hard about Paige’s behavior.

“Yeah,” Paige says, her hand creeping slowly down Azzi’s back.

“Did you have another drink?” Azzi asks, trying to walk them away from the booth, but Paige keeps her feet planted.

“I might’ve had another shot.” Paige grins, and Azzi would easily admit she likes it a lot more than muscle shirt’s. “Missed you, baby.”

The girls are pretending not to eavesdrop, but they’re clearly listening, sharing furtive glances with each other. Which is just—great. Because tomorrow the girls are going to have questions and Paige will be sober enough for that to stress her out, which will in turn stress Azzi out, and there will be no saving face if she lets Paige continue on like this.

“Not now, Paige,” she hisses, trying desperately to push her back.

Paige pouts. Their faces are far too close together. “What, you wanna go back to that guy or sum’?”

Azzi knows she’s not serious, but it still annoys her, and she doesn’t feel quite as comforted in Paige’s arms anymore. “Seriously, I’m not in the mood.”

Paige scoffs, maybe a little more serious now. “Course you aren’t.”

Azzi blinks at her, and when Paige’s hands drop to her sides she takes a step back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno.” Paige gestured between them. “Just that you never wanna be around me unless we’re fu—“

Azzi’s overstimulated and irritated, but she still has enough common sense to shove Paige hard enough to shut her up. “Don’t.”

Paige watches as Azzi drinks her other shot. “What? You really don’t want anybody to know, huh? You that embarrassed or something?”

Azzi shakes her head in disbelief, stepping back towards Paige so they can at least have this conversation too quiet for anybody to hear. “Are you dumb? You’re the one who wanted to keep this secret.”

“Because I didn’t want my teammates thinking I was distracted!”

“Our teammates, Paige.” Azzi gives her another little shove for good measure, and then she steps away again. “You’re acting stupid. Go chill out and come back when you wanna be normal.”

“Fine. I will.” With that, she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd. Azzi rolls her eyes at her hot-headedness. They’re both too stubborn for their own good, but Paige is ten times worse when she’s drunk and Azzi has always been more logical. Little, senseless arguments like this never happened when they were dating—or even when they were broken up—but now that they’re at this weird in-between, they’re becoming more frequent.

Hence why they prefer to kiss instead of talk.

Azzi plops down beside Amari, grateful when nobody questions her, and feels a little better when she thinks about how good the make-up sex will be later.

—————————————

There will be no make-up sex tonight. Or ever, Azzi thinks bitterly, glaring daggers at the girl Paige is currently feeling up.

Okay, feeling up might be an overstatement. She has a hand on her arm. But Azzi knows better than anyone that for Paige, hand-on-arm action might as well be foreplay. And the girl seems to sense it, too, if her batting eyelashes and twinkling smile have anything to show for it.

“She’s just doing it to make you jealous.” Once again, it’s Caroline, sidling up next to Azzi to study the tall blonde across the bar.

“I have no reason to be jealous,” Azzi all but spits out, and Caroline smirks.

“Pretend all you want, Az. But it’s impossible to not see what’s going on with you and her.”

“There’s nothing.” Paige’s fingers trail down the length of the girl’s arm and it’s almost like Azzi can feel it, too.

“Are you guys exclusive?”

“No,” Azzi responds immediately, too tipsy to be thinking straight, and when Caroline smiles proudly to herself, she backtracks. “I mean, obviously not. We’re not anything.”

“Well, if you’re not exclusive, she’s not doing anything wrong.”

Azzi hates this bitter reminder and turns her anger onto her best friend. “Shut up, Carol.”

“You two should probably talk about not seeing other people,” Caroline says, as wise and perceptive as ever. (She is also significantly more sober than Azzi is.)

“She can see whoever she wants,” Azzi seethes, stirring the ice in her drink. “I don’t care.”

Paige’s eyes flit from the girl’s face to Azzi. And then, with a little smirk, she leans in to whisper something in her ear, blue eyes never leaving brown as the girl giggles and grabs onto her arm. She smiles, too, and Azzi takes some satisfaction in the fact the girl has no idea she’s not the one Paige is doing this for.

She’s always been good at putting up a show. And Azzi has always been her captive audience.

Not tonight, Azzi decides as she looks firmly away. It’s about time Paige learns to behave herself.

—————————————-

It’s been a long night of drinking and trying not to watch Paige attach herself to this random girl’s hip when Azzi is approached by none other than random girl herself.

She’s gorgeous up close, but Azzi can’t help but notice her brown curls and crescent dimples, the way they’re the exact same height. It nearly makes her laugh.

“Hey,” the girl says, dropping into the bar seat next to Azzi.

“Uh,” Azzi says, vey tipsy and very irate. “Hey.”

“What’s that? It looks so good,” the girl asks, pointing to her drink. Her voice is soft and kind, nothing malicious gleaming in her eyes. Azzi hates it.

“Just a mango daiquiri,” Azzi responds, kind of unable to be snarky about it with the wide-eyed way the girl is looking at her.

“Oh, fancy! I’m definitely gonna cop that.” She smiles conspiratorially at her. Azzi can’t help but smile back. Okay, now she just kind of hates herself. She’s never been one to be rude to girls she’s jealous of. Especially not harmless, sweet ones.

“It’s so good,” she’s saying before she can help it. “And they come in all different flavors so there’s like, endless possibilities.”

“Stop,” the girl gasps.

“I know!” and then they both giggle like the tipsy college students they are. This is possibly even better than hating her, because it’s almost like a smack in the face: look at me, Paige, being the bigger person. Making best friends with your target of the night. How’s that feel?

“Hey,” the girl giggles, leaning her elbows on the bar. “You’re Azzi, yeah? You play so good.”

“Thank you!” Azzi gushes, flashing her dimples as the girl does just the same. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Haven,” she replies. Even her name is nice. Azzi thinks about how Paige must’ve thought the same thing when they met a few hours ago, but she doesn’t like the thought, so she pushes it firmly away.

“Hey,” Haven says, sounding suddenly hesitant. “Um, I actually wanted to ask you something. About…Paige?”

Azzi’s eyes snap to where the blonde sits at the team’s booth—she always seems to know where Paige is in a room, though she never remembers tracking her movements—before she quickly looks back to Haven. “What about her?”

“Well…that,” she says.

“What?�� Azzi asks, stirring her drink casually.

“The reaction you just had to me saying her name.”

Okay, so Azzi apparently does not appear as cool and collected as she thought. “Oh, that was just—I mean, she’s my best friend.”

“Yeah?” Haven asks. “Because I kinda got the impression y’all were…”

“No,” Azzi says, trying to contort her features into something like disgust. “Ew. Never.”

Haven raises her eyebrows. “Never?”

Why is everybody deciding to clock Paige and Azzi’s shit tonight? “Okay, like, maybe at one point. But it’s over.”

“Really.” She does not sound convinced at all. Glancing over at Paige, Haven leans forward, as if she’s afraid they’ll be heard. “It’s just, she keeps looking at you and you keep looking back and she was all over you earlier, so like—“

“I wouldn’t say she was all over me.”

“She totally was.” Haven’s looking at her like she’s clueless. “I just…listen, Paige invited me over tonight.” Azzi’s stomach drops. So definitely no make-up sex then. In fact, Azzi might as well pack up her vagina right now because Paige has ruined everybody else for her, too. “And I don’t wanna get in the middle of anything,” Haven continues, completely oblivious to Azzi’s internal vow of celibacy, “especially nothing messy.”

“Yeah, no, I totally get that.” Azzi sighs heavily; considering their situation is exactly what one might describe as messy, Azzi figures it’s probably the right thing to do to tell this poor girl the truth. “To be honest, we kinda are…I dunno. I mean, we fuck.”

“Okay,” Haven nods, sounding not at all surprised.

“She stays over most of the time. I stay at her’s sometimes, but she mostly stays at mine.”

“Spare toothbrushes in each other’s bathroom?”

Azzi winces. “Possibly.”

“Yeow.”

“And, like, generally, we don’t see other people. We used to, at the beginning, but not anymore. We were just talking about it today, actually. Well, not talking about it—we don’t talk about stuff. We’re not serious enough for Paige to wanna talk about stuff.” Azzi is rambling now, and Haven is hanging onto her every word, and Azzi thinks she loves making fast friends with other girls then realizes this is the exact thing that happens every time she gets drunk. Perhaps she crossed over that line awhile ago.

The two of them have their heads close together now, the rest of the bar completely shut out. “But anyway, she said something and I was like, what, you say that to all your bitches? You know, mostly joking but not.”

“Of course.”

“And she was all, no, baby, I would never ever have other bitches, don’t be mad,” Azzi says, deepening her tone in a stupid caricature of Paige’s voice.

Haven gasps. “That was today?”

“Like ten minutes before we came here.”

“And then she was all up on me tonight.” Haven glares in Paige’s direction. “Damn.”

“I know. But like, yeah, we’re not exclusive or anything so it’s fine. But it’s not, you know?”

“Oh, for sure. That’s fucked up,” Haven says haughtily. “So, wait, how long has this been going on for?”

“Uh…six months?” but no, that doesn’t feel right. “Well, I guess, like, four years? But six months.”

Haven blinks at her.

Azzi sighs. “We were super serious in high school.”

Haven nearly screams, slamming her hand on the bar. “She’s your ex?”

“Yes!” Azzi cries, and it feels so, so good for someone to understand her situation. “We were so in love and shit! And then things started feeling weird the summer before she came here—because, like, I’m a year younger than her so she was gonna be in college while I was still in high school and I—I could tell she didn’t wanna be tied down by her lame hometown girlfriend so I ended things.”

“Girl!” Haven yells.

“I had no other choiceeee,” Azzi groans. “She woulda broken up with me if I hadn’t broken up with her.”

“You’re crazy,” Haven says, shaking her head. “That girl is down bad.”

“Stop,” Azzi says, waving her off.

“She is, horrendously.” Haven gestures over to Paige. “As soon as you got to UConn she wanted to start something with you, right? And then y’all have a little tiff and she’s doing the most with another girl just to get your attention?”

“She asked you to go home with her,” Azzi points out. “That definitely wasn’t for my benefit.”

“Um, I’m sorry, have you not noticed how scary alike we look?” Haven asks, and Azzi flushes. “She was definitely gonna pretend I was you. Which I’m not down for, like, at all.”

“She’s such a dick,” Azzi says. Because she may have been in love with Paige Bueckers since high school, but yeah, she’s still kinda a dick.

“Totally,” Haven agrees. “But…

“Don’t tell me you’re about to defend her.”

“Listen!” Haven places her hands on Azzi’s shoulder. “I think her heart’s in the right place. She wants you. She’s just a little…misguided.”

Azzi shakes her head. “She was the one who said we couldn’t be serious. She said we couldn’t have ‘distractions’.”

“And you didn’t stop to think that maybe she was still insecure and hurt by the fact you broke up with her and was protecting herself from getting hurt again?”

Azzi blinks at this drunk, genius girl in front of her. “Whoa.”

“Yeah. You know what, I’m starting to think maybe you’re both a little stupid.”

Azzi shoves her. “Don’t get so cocky, you could be wrong!”

“I could,” Haven admits. “But where would that leave you? With an asshole ex-girlfriend who messes with your head for fun?”

Azzi thinks maybe, if they didn’t look so uncannily alike, she could kiss this girl. “I love you.”

“Girl, I love you more.” Haven pats her arm and leans back on her barstool. “Now take Auntie Haven’s advice and give her the silent treatment for a few days. She’ll realize her mistakes and come running back real quick.”

“What if I don’t wanna take her back?” Azzi says, already knowing it’s bullshit.

“You do. But you gotta make her work for it. And then you have to communicate with her.”

Azzi makes a face. “Didn’t I already tell you we don’t like talking?”

Haven rubs her temples. “There’s your main fucking problem, Azzi.”

It’s then that Haven’s eyes trail to something over her shoulder and before Azzi can ask there’s a large, warm, all-too-familiar ringed hand on her shoulder. “What’re you two talking about over here?”

Azzi looks first at the hand on her shoulder, then slowly up to Paige’s face. Paige raises her eyebrows, waiting for an answer, and then Azzi looks back at Haven, meeting her eyes.

And then they laugh.

“What?” Paige nearly demands.

Azzi brushes her hand off, still giggling. “Leave us alone, Paige.”

“I just didn’t know y’all knew each other,” Paige says, and Azzi delights at how confused she sounds. “Because you two seem pretty buddy-buddy over here.”

“Didn’t realize you were watching so closely,” Haven quips. Azzi giggles.

“Never said I was.” Paige moves from behind Azzi, going to stand beside them, studying them closely. “You two are drunk as hell.”

“So are you!” Haven and Azzi both say at the same time, and tears are forming at this point. Azzi holds on to Haven’s knee to keep herself from falling off her chair.

“Aight, yeah, I’m getting you an Uber,” Paige says to Haven, before touching Azzi’s arm, “And I’ma walk you home.”

“I can get my own Uber,” Haven says haughtily, but Paige already has her phone out.

Once again, Azzi bats Paige’s hand away. “I don’t wanna go home with you.”

Paige rolls her eyes, still navigating through her phone. “I figured, Az. But we live in the same building. Just lemme walk you.”

“You’re not sober enough to walk me.”

“I’ve been drinking water for the past hour, I’m pretty much good.” Paige shuts her phone off and looks at Haven. “You car’ll be here in fifteen.”

“Wish you were pretty much good a couple hours ago,” Azzi grumbles.

Paige’s expression becomes a little less nonchalant at that. “I know, mama, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

And that almost works. But then Haven sends her a warning glare and she straightens up. “No, thanks.”

Paige’s face scrunches up like it always done when she’s shocked, and Azzi hates that it’s still the cutest thing in the world. “Whatchu mean?”

“Exactly that,” Azzi says, standing from her barstool. Her butt is sore from sitting for so long. “And I’ll walk home with the rest of the team, thanks.”

Paige splutters. Haven gives her the middle finger.

—————————————

Later, when they are walking home—stumbling, more accurately—Azzi is leaning against Aubrey when she hears familiar footfalls coming up behind them and braces herself.

“Hey, Azzi,” Paige calls, catching her arm as she catches up. “Come walk with me.”

“I wanna walk with Aubrey,” Azzi says petulantly.

Aubrey looks awkwardly between the two of them.

“Bro, just—“ Paige stops, mindful of their audience. “Let’s just talk, okay?”

“No, thanks.”

“Azzi, c’mon.”

“I’m drunk and I’m cold and I’m mad at you. Leave me alone.”

Paige looks desperately to Aubrey for help. Aubrey just shrugs and says, “What’m I supposed to do? She said what she said.”

“Thank you,” Azzi huffs.

“Man, fuck this,” Paige says. Azzi feels very satisfied when Paige falls back, leaving her alone. But her arm also tingles where Paige had caught it.

Oh, yeah. This makeup sex had better be good for the trouble she’s going through.

—————————————

It isn’t until the next day that, during a car ride with Caroline, Azzi disovers it.

The two of them have always had similar music tastes, so when an unfamiliar song comes on over the speaker, she’s a little surprised. However, as she listens to the lyrics, she finds herself even more surprised at how much they resonate with her.

I could go and read your mind

Think about your dumb face all the time

Living in your glass house I’m outside

“Hey,” she says, “what song is this?”

“That’s So True,” Caroline answers, still staring ahead at the road. “By Gracie Abrams. Why?”

Looking into big blue eyes

Did it just to hurt me, make me cry

Smiling through it all, yeah, that’s my life

“Oh,” Azzi says casually, “no reason.”

——————————————

It becomes very apparent there is a reason when, over the next week, the song becomes everyone else’s problem.

So apparent, in fact, that the team actually starts to worry about her.

“What did you do to her?” Aaliyah asks as soon as Paige walks into the apartment.

“You broke her,” Amari says.

“That stupid song kept me up all night and it’s your fault,” Aubrey continues, pointing menacingly at Paige.

“I didn’t do nothing!” Paige says, backing away from her angry friends.

“You better fix it,” Amari says. “Like, now.”

“Fix what?”

Oddly, they all go quiet at this. Paige is about to ask what’s up with them when music begins blasting from somewhere in the dorm.

“That,” Aaliyah says.

Paige scrunches her nose. “Bad pop music?”

“It is not bad,” Caroline says defensively, joining them in the entryway. When she gets judgmental looks from the other girls, she sighs. “Okay, it wasn’t bad. But Azzi’s been listening to it nonstop for a week and it used to be my favorite song and now I’m sick of it.”

“We’re all sick of it,” Amari adds unhelpfully.

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Paige says, but of course she’s lying. From what she can make out the lyrics are about a break up, maybe, something to do with jealousy and anger. With the way Azzi’s been dodging her this week (calls sent straight to voicemail, texts left on read, not even a hint of eye contact when they see each other) she knows she fucked up at the party.

It’s not like them to fight—really, it’s not. They’ve gotten into more arguments this year than they have in their entire friendship. Obviously, there’s a correlation there, something major signaling that this whole friends-with-benefits thing doesn’t work for them. Or maybe it does. Maybe it’s the whole best-friends-who-dated-then-became-exes-then-friends-with-benefits thing that they can’t do.

But either way—fights? Like, actual fights that Paige can’t talk (or kiss) their way out of? Those are rare.

She didn’t think their argument at the bar was that big a deal. Didn’t even think her flirting with another girl would make Azzi mad. (She’d been hoping for jealousy because dysfunctional as they may be, the sex is really good and it’s even better when one of them is all riled up).

She has a sneaky feeling this all has to do with that girl at the bar. Haven. The cute one who looked a lot like Azzi and seemed super into Paige until she turned around and became best friends with none other than Azzi herself. She should’ve known that would happen. Azzi always makes friends when she gets drunk.

She just wishes this bout of silence (and celibacy) between them would end already.

“You can’t be serious,” Amari says.

Paige shrugs.

“We all know you two are fucking, Paige,” Caroline says quite bluntly.

And, okay, the sheer panic that Paige feels at this is maybe a little ridiculous.

She never wanted the team—anyone, really—to know she and Azzi were back together. Because, well, they weren’t, for one, and there’s no good way to tell your parents, “Hey, you know how I was super emo about how the love of my life broke up with me before college? Yeah, well, it’s been a year and I’m not totally over it but I fucked her in the bathroom at a club and we’re going steady—as in, fucking—now!”

But the main reason she didn’t want anybody to know is because she was—is—so afraid of having her heart broken again. And if she keeps this to herself, then she gets to act like she doesn’t care if history repeats itself. Gets to move on and not think about it and use other people as rebounds without anybody batting an eye.

But it’s been six months of them going from friends with benefits to best friends who also kiss and have sex to best friends who kiss and have sex exclusively with each other. She may have gotten a little too cocky, may have thought they were finding solid ground, and may have not put so much effort into hiding it.

But Azzi hasn’t spoken to her for a week and she doesn’t even remember what solid ground feels like anymore so yeah, the notion of her friends knowing about them when they may be on the brink of ending is a little scary.

“Okay,” Amari says tentatively when Paige stares blankly at them, “don’t freak. It’s not a big deal. We don’t care.”

“No, I—I know,” Paige stutters.

“Seriously, P, it’s cool,” Aubrey says, patting her shoulder. “Just, you know, go fix it.”

That song has played three consecutive times since this conversation started. They may be right. Paige might’ve broken her.

Might’ve broken them.

“And while you’re at it,” Caroline adds, giving her a little push in the direction of Azzi’s room, “make sure you guys are official so we don’t have to deal with this again.”

Paige tries to plant her feet to prevent her advance towards Azzi, but Aubrey rounds to her front and starts pulling at her arms while Amari pushes and then she’s directly in front of a door with a pink ‘welcome’ sign hanging off the front. As that song thuds accusingly through the door, Paige doesn’t feel very welcome.

“Okay, stop being a pussy,” Aaliyah pipes up from behind them, “and go in there. Please.”

“Make it stop,” Aubrey says. She almost sounds like she’s about to cry.

Paige stares at them, wondering if they’re really going to make her do this. But they all nod at her before disappearing down the hall so it’s just Paige in front of Azzi’s door and she could leave, could just go back home but she’d never hear the end of it from her teammates. (And she might end up hating herself if she does that, too.)

So, with a deep, steadying breath, Paige lifts her fist and knocks.

“Coming,” Azzi calls. Blessedly, the song turns off and there’s some rustling inside before the door creaks open.

Paige expects a lot of things when Azzi first sees her—anger, upset, a door slamming in her face.

What she doesn’t expect is the satisfied smile that flits across Azzi’s face before she carefully fixes her expression into something more somber.

“Uh, hey,” Paige says. “Can I—“

“Come in,” Azzi says gravely, opening the door all the way to let her through.

“Uh, aight.” Nervously, Paige walks past Azzi, a little afraid that is some sort of trap based off the strange way she’s acting. Once she’s inside and the door’s shut, she faces the younger girl, though doesn’t quite look her in the eye. “So, I just…you know, about the other night. At Ted’s.”

Azzi nods. “Go on.”

“Well, I know I started that lil argument and I feel bad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was just drunk and I wanted your attention so I acted stupid.”

Azzi crosses her arms impatiently. Paige wishes she had written this down and practiced beforehand or something.

“And with that other girl—“

“Her name’s Haven,” Azzi says sharply.

Paige blinks at her, surprised. “Yeah. Her. Well—“

“She’s actually really nice. We’ve been texting.”

Paige can’t help but scoff a little at that. “What, you gonna leave me for her or sum’?”

“We look related, so no,” Azzi says, raising an eyebrow. “And if I remember right, I thought it was you asking her to come to your place that night.”

Shit. So the two of them really did talk about everything. That’s not great for her.

“I didn’t mean it,” Paige says, which is very much true—she doesn’t know what she would’ve done if Haven had agreed to come over that night, but she certainly wouldn’t have kissed her. “I just, we were arguing and I wanted to make you jealous so we could, like, kiss and make up.”

Azzi crosses the room to sit on her bed, and Paige hovers awkwardly, wondering if she should follow. She decides on staying put. “I was jealous,” Azzi says. “But it just pissed me off.”

“I know, and it was a stupid thing to do.”

“I just—I thought we weren’t really, like, seeing other people.”

Paige freezes. This is completely outside of argument-at-Ted’s territory and it seems a little more like serious-talk-about-us time. Which Paige is just not prepared for at all. She should’ve made notecards for this.

“I mean—we aren’t—but, like…” Paige trails off, and she knows it’s bad how uncertain she sounds when hurt flashes over Azzi’s expression.

“Have you? Been seeing other people,” she asks, and Paige can tell she’s trying to sound nonchalant, putting on a brave face, but in reality she’s terrified of the answer.

Paige rushes to reassure her. “No, Az, no. Not a—seriously, not a single person. Not since that day at the club.” Not since the day Azzi came to UConn, if she’s being a little more accurate. But Azzi doesn’t need to know that.

Again, Azzi tries to act like it doesn’t affect her. But Paige knows her far too well—far too intimately—to miss the way her features relax, her shoulders lowering just a little bit. “Me neither,” she says softly.

Paige lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding at that. “Okay.”

“So…what does that mean?” Azzi asks tentatively.

Now that Azzi seems a little less guarded, Paige takes her chance to sit beside her on the bed, though not too close. “I dunno,” she says lamely, but when she’s met with a heavily annoyed silence, she sighs and tries desperately to think something up. “I mean. We can’t really be casual and exclusive. That’s not really how that works.”

“Yeah,” Azzi says.

Paige waits for her to pick up the conversation at least a little, but she doesn’t, and Paige is forced to go on. “I don’t—I think it’s not even something I want anymore. The whole casual thing.”

It’s hard, getting the words out, like each syllable is a barrier being broken, and maybe it is. Paige looks down at her hands, fiddles with them, anything so she doesn’t have to watch Azzi’s reaction.

“Paige,” Azzi says quietly.

And when Paige catches the hesitancy in her tone—the fear—she is suddenly too desperate and maybe even too in love to keep quiet just because it’s hard. Because she can’t do this, not again. She can’t watch Azzi walk away without at least putting up a fight.

“I know what I did was wrong,” Paige blurts out before Azzi can say anything else. She looks up, stares at the wall ahead, before turning to Azzi. She tries to detect the look in her eyes and what it may mean, but can’t. “At Ted’s. And I’m sorry. I guess I just—these past six months have been so—I mean, they’ve been good, but they’ve also been super fucking confusing and kinda scary, too. It’s like I’m always on edge waiting for you to end things, so whenever we get too close to how we were—before, in high school—I back out, no matter how hard it is. No matter how good it feels to have you again.”

Azzi opens her mouth, the beginning of a word escaping, but Paige’s heart races and she stands, stopping her. “But I’m realizing that I don’t think I can do that with you. I don’t think I can be just friends with you, or friends with benefits, or even whatever the hell it is we’ve been doing. Every day since you ended things I’ve been a fucking wreck, Azzi.” And it’s true. Her freshmen year had been hard, spent sleeping with random caramel-skinned, dimpled girls to try and fill the Azzi-shaped void in her heart. And the summer after was hell, too, reconnecting with Azzi long-distance and trying to become friends again, acting like they were never anything more. And the past six months has been the worst of it all, because having Azzi but not really having her, keeping her at an arm’s length and teetering on this edge of will she do it again and when will it happen proving almost painful.

Azzi stands, too, stepping in front of her, tilting her chin just slightly up to make eye contact like she’s always had to do. “I didn’t want that, Paige,” she says, almost as if she’s pleading. “I wanted—I thought you’d have more fun if you were single. I thought you’d resent me for, like, tying you down.”

Paige looks at Azzi for a solid few seconds, trying to discern whether she’s fucking with her. And when Azzi doesn’t laugh or tell her this was all a stupid prank she turns around, pushes her hand through her hair, and then faces her again. “Are you fucking for real?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says sheepishly. “I thought—I don’t know. I was also sixteen and stupid and insecure, and I just wanted to make you happy. I didn’t think about what I wanted.” She looks down at her feet. “Didn’t realize how hard it’d be.”

“Yeah, you were stupid,” Paige snaps, and when Azzi flinches, she takes a step towards her. “You really thought that I’d—what, not want you? Want to fucking break up so I could hoe around?”

“Kind of!” Azzi says, throwing her hands in the air. “Things already felt off that summer before you left—“

“Because I didn’t want to leave you!” Paige practically shouts, and she wonders briefly why they never bothered to discuss this before. “I had no idea what I was gonna do when we were so far apart, but you know what? We could have handled it. We could’ve handled a year. I wanted to handle it, if it meant we could stay together.” She takes another step closer, so they’re face-to-face now. “I thought you were bored of me or sum’, you know? I was so fucking hurt.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you!” Azzi cries. “Obviously I wasn’t bored, Paige, or I wouldn’t have jumped your fucking bones the minute I got to school.”

“And obviously I didn’t wanna be single or I wouldn’t have let you!”

Silence washes over them, and Paige is sure she could hear a pin drop, almost as sure as she is that their teammates are thoroughly listening to this argument outside the door. But she doesn’t care. Not when she’s looking close-up at the girl she’s loved forever and seeing her for the first time in almost two years—inches apart without hidden hurt or secret regrets tucked between them.

They’re both breathing heavy, both affected by everything they’ve just said and everything that still needs to be said but it’s not a surprise that they hold each other’s gazes, both too stubborn to be the first to look away.

And when the eye contact becomes too much for Paige to bear, she decides she will not chicken out, will not let her trepidations hold her back this time. And she leans forward and kisses her.

They’ve kissed—a million times, probably. Maybe more. At this point, they’ve learned each other down to the last breath, the last hair on their heads. They know exactly where to put their hands, exactly how to tell what the other is feeling based off the way they move their lips, exactly what things to say in between kisses. But despite all that, this—this feels brand new. Gentle, and tentative, but excited, too, like they know it’s the mark of something different. Something better.

———————————-

A week later, when Paige appears at her doorstep with a nervous little smile and flowers to take her on their second-first date, Paige asks her about the ‘lame girly song’ she’d been playing on repeat. Azzi tells her the song is not, in fact, lame, and is actually really quite good. She doesn’t admit that she can’t listen to it anymore.

(And, because I know you’re all wondering—yes, the makeup sex was as good as Azzi’d hoped.)

[bengiyo]

The Uncertain Melancholy of Our Youth

I’ve been sorting out how I feel about the end of Our Youth, and I’ve yet to arrive at something concrete that I want to say. I’ve been reading reactions from others to see if someone else could vocalize what I’m feeling, and in the process realized I wanted to talk about Our Dating Sim again. 

Like many others, I’m left with a feeling of melancholy from this show. I feel a lot like @small-dark-and-delicious in that I think this ending felt very realistic for them, because Minase has never had friends he can count on, especially the “bespectacled demon” (@chicademartinica). I find myself empathizing a lot with @asiandramas-takeover about how bleak the future feels for them.

With this series overall, I’m a bit frustrated thematically. I was glad to have @wen-kexing-apologist offering insights about the manhwa while we were watching, because, like @worm-priest, I don’t think we did much with the different kinds of people theme. 

However, I am left with some genuinely warm feelings for the characters and the actors. I loved mj’s post reflecting on how Hirukawa connects for people who dread becoming like their parents (@forcebook). Like @memiaatanonymous, I really enjoyed Motojima Junsei in this; I especially loved the way he managed his physicality and expressions when Minase had to flee Hirukawa’s house before the dad began beating Hirukawa again. 

I also agree with @delasaria-blog that Minase in the special does a lot to close out this story; I don’t think I’d feel as positively as I do at the end of this without the effectiveness of the special episode. The implied growth of these two into a relatively stable couple (@incandescentflower) worked well for, especially because Minase was left with separation anxiety (@lurkingshan). I also really liked the way the show approached a closeted couple’s feelings about marriage as an inevitability (@jemmo).

I think it was @theside-b comparing this to the disappointment I know I felt at the end of Love is Better the Second Time Around that got me thinking about Our Dating Sim. In that show, we spend the majority of our time in the present with Shin Ki Tae pursuing Lee Wan again after Lee Wan abandoned him at the end of high school. Our journey with them is about how Lee Wan hurt Ki Tae and himself, and the consequences of Lee Wan's decision. We focus there on how Lee Wan has to grapple with the fact that Ki Tae was open to his feelings.

I think most of why I’m feeling a bit unfulfilled by this project is that I had hoped we’d spend more time in the present. The opening sequence had me waiting in anticipation for their eventual reunion and reconciliation. I had hoped we’d spend the bulk of the show on that, like in Our Dating Sim, rather than on the events leading to their separation. I think I set myself up for this because I brought too much of that to the table. 

Reflecting on what the show did or didn’t do, I don’t think there was much for me to gain from seeing Hirukawa and Minase’s separate montages, though I think it would have been interesting to see Minase getting lonelier and see where he and Hirukawa lost touch over the phone incident. I personally feel like I’d have liked to see more of them getting back together and rebuilding trust, because I felt myself pulling away from this show as it spiraled over Hirukawa’s life getting worse in the middle. There was almost a really great moment of Minase trying to step forward and use his voice only to be silenced by the adults and friends in his life. 

Final Verdict: 8, Recommended With Reservations. I’m not sure how I will feel about this show in the long term, and I want to thank everyone linked above for sharing their thoughts, and all the gifmakers included for their creations. There is a useful kind of melancholy here that I personally enjoy as a person who absolutely loved All of Us Strangers (2023) last year. I am always the type who, even though I know we’re seeing marked improvement in many categories, cannot erase the scars I carry from what I survived. I struggle to find a solid coherent thought I feel coming from this one, and I hope to read more compelling reflections in the weeks to come. 

[quipxotic]

I've never been through wildfires, but I've been through several hurricanes. One of the worst I've experienced decimated the infrastructure of our city for weeks, killed a lot of folks, and destroyed a lot of homes. My family was lucky, but it still took days to cut a way out of our neighborhood in order to have access to main roads and we were without power and water for a month. Every hour of every day of that month was spent doing whatever was needed to get to the next day. We had neither the time nor the energy to accomplish anything else. And the scope of these fires in and around Los Angeles look far worse than anything I've experienced.

All that to say, don't be surprised if things don't go back to normal next week or for a while. Even with pre-recorded episodes waiting, there can be interruptions of power and internet services that long outlast the original event. People can lose homes, loved ones and pets, or find themselves grieving sudden changes to their lives and the places they call home. They may not be able to spare the emotional or physical energy to get back to work, even if that work is something they love like playing D&D.

And it's not like the CR fandom doesn't have tons of prior content to explore or revisit to keep us occupied. You can start watching Campaign 1 or 2, if you haven't already seen them. There's a bunch of Candela Obscura episodes if horror is your jam. If you want a bit of variety, there's all the one-shots. Or there's all the stories associated with Midst. I highly recommend Re-Slayers Take if you haven't already listened to that podcast campaign.

So let's just hope for the best for the folks in California, send help where we can, and know that we as fans will be fine until all the CR team get to a place were they can start up storytelling again.

[merlincmgirl]

Goodbye To Good Will and Patience

Summary: Colt is ready to leave. This party has been dragging on for far too long, and he's stuck at the side playing bodyguard. Not that he minds, because it's for you. But as soon as he sees a Senator lay a hand on you, his patience quickly dwindles to zero. He needs to make sure that nobody else can mistake that you're his and he'd do anything to protect you.

Characters: Colt, Reader

Pairing: Commander Colt x FReader

Word Count: 5,514

Warnings: smut, riding, PinV sex, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, Colt imagining violence against mentioned Senator, established relationships

Author's Note: So this was requested by @rex-meshla, I'm so sorry it took so long. But I hope you enjoy it.

I took inspiration from this post by @saradika. The lines are highlighted in bold. Honestly it's incredible and I really recommend people checking it out.

Colt wants to leave. He wants to leave right now. Either through the door or through the window, he doesn’t care which. But if he has to listen to another slimy Senator flatter and flirt with you, then he’s not going to be held responsible for his actions.

The music is light and fun – the only fun thing about this party – and the alcohol is flowing – not that Colt is allowed any – but it seems to be helping the Senator’s lose whatever inhibitions that they had. Colt once again thanks his lucky stars that he doesn’t have to deal with the Senate and the cockroaches within it everyday. He doesn’t know how Fox deals with it.

Instead of focusing on wanting to jump out the window, he directs his attention to you. You’re absolutely stunning. That, Colt would admit to anyone and everyone. Your dress subtly matched his armour, a blend of grey, black and red that highlighted your beautiful body. Your hair was tied up into a loose knot, strands hanging irresistibly to brush along your neck. What he wouldn’t give to press his lips against the hollow of your throat, to feel the way you moaned his name as he kissed along your neck.

Rolling his shoulders, he straightened up, getting his head back in the now. Escorting you to this event was something that both you and Colt was dreading. Nearly a year ago, you were assigned by the GAR to review and report on the health and well-being of the up-coming troopers and cadets on Kamino. Your work was your passion, and you enjoyed spending time with the clones, trying your best to make their life better while on the rainy planet. Especially the cadets, who you had taken to heart as soon as you had been introduced to them.

So when you were invited by Senator Burtoni to a party that she was holding for potential investors and members of the Senate, she wanted you to come and report on Kamino’s success. You hated being the centre of attention, instead preferring to be in your lab or interacting with the clones. Not flattering and selling the clones like cattle to investors and Senators who saw them as nothing more than meat-droids.

It had been something that Colt had heard you rant about ever since you got the summons. As the ARC Commander of Rancor Battalion, he had been selected to escort you and protect you while you were on Coruscant. If he had to twist Fox’s arm to ensure that he was your protection detail and not some Corrie Guard, then you never had to know.

Wishing he could have some of that wine his cyare was sipping, he once more watched as you batted away the Senator’s advances. Your eyes shifted to him, and even through his visor, it felt like you could see into his soul, understand exactly what he was thinking about. Your lips twitched, face softening for a second before you returned back to the Senator who was now boasting about his villa on the Canto Bright shores, and his VIP area in one of the casinos on said planet.

However, all of Colt’s good will and patience disintegrated as soon as he saw the Senator lay one of his slimy hands on your hip, lips curled up into what he thought was an attractive smirk but it just made him look like a demented nexu. Making sure not to just storm over there like he wanted to, he instead strode over with purpose, every movement deliberate and intimidating. The party-goers immediately parted for him until he reached where you and the Senator were near the buffet table.

He didn’t stop until he was pressed against your back, too close to be appropriate or polite. He didn’t care. If that slimy, son of a nerf herder didn’t take his hand away, he’d make sure to break every single finger so he could never touch anyone without their consent ever again.

“Excuse me, ma’am” Colt interrupted, his dark, intimidating helmet facing the Senator. The skull on the helmet was a promise of things that was to come if Colt had his way.

“Commander Colt, just the man I was talking about! Senator, Commander Colt is a fine example of the strength and bravery of our troopers” you smiled, turning into the ARC behind you, letting the hand fall away from you as you leaned closer into Colt.

“You flatter me, Doctor. However, Master Ti is requesting your service about one of the reports, she has some questions for you” Colt lied, pressing further into your back in response. “Goodnight Senator” Colt said briskly, stepping in between you and him before guiding you towards the door.

As soon as you were outside, you couldn’t help but let out a disgruntled curse. There was a reasons you hated these things, they were all full of creeps who thought they had every right to request your company. Thankfully Colt had been there to protect you this time.

Nodding to the Corrie guards keeping watch at the entrance, Colt led you down the Senate corridor towards your temporary office that you had been gifted by Burtoni. It had been a reassurance that you could continue your work, but it had almost been forgotten about as soon as you landed. There had been more important things to do than head to your office and work, Burtoni had said.

Grumbling, you stopped Colt and he turned to you in concern. However it soon turned to amusement as you used him as support while you took off your heels. Kicking them off, you shrunk down to your original size, allowing him to almost tower over you. “There, that’s much better” you sighed, rolling your ankles a few times on each foot to return the feeling in your feet.

Colt chuckled, scooping up your heels and clipping them to his belt. He held out his arm to you, which you gladly accepted. “Comfortable, cyare?” he teased, enjoying the warmth that he could feel from the crook of his elbow. His armour ensured a barrier to the world, it was something he always regretted when he was with you.

“Much! I was beginning to feel like my ankles were about to snap” you smirked, resting your head on his bicep and sighing heavily. Wriggling your toes, you couldn’t help but admire the soft carpet that felt like walking on clouds with every step.

“Maybe I should work some of these torture devices into ARC training” Colt suggested, tugging you closer to him to avoid a mouse droid running into you.

“Oh, that is cruel, my love!” you laughed, as you came to a halt outside of the door to your office. You quickly pushed in your code before allowing Colt to enter first. Leaning against the door frame, you waited as he made sure the room was clear and secure. “I don’t think an assassin is going to want to be hiding behind the plant pots” you remarked, a wry smile spreading across your face as Colt checked everything.

“You’d be surprised, cyare. Expect the unexpected” he reminded you, as he gave the all clear for you to enter.

Locking the door behind you, you couldn’t wait to return back home to your little apartment on Kamino that you shared with Colt. It was your little slice of paradise where the two of you could be yourselves without Kaminoans breathing down your throats and watching your every move. You had spent many evenings there just cuddled up with your Commander as you recounted the days events. It made you miss your home even more.

A soft creak of leather had you turning around to face the desk behind you. It seemed that Colt had made himself comfortable behind your desk, even though there was a perfectly good sofa for him to lounge on. The corner of your lips pulling into a small smile, content to see him relaxing away from the circus that was Senators, sponsors and general politics.

Colt removed his helmet, sighing softly before placing it down on the desk, running a hand through his short cropped hair. His lovely plump lips pulled into a thin line, brow furrowing at whatever thought was running through his head. However, he shook it, almost like he was trying to shake the thought out before opening his beautiful brown eyes and locking them onto you. Noticing that you were looking at him, he sent you a confused look.

Deciding that you were too far away from your trooper now that there was no prying eyes, you closed the space between you, walking around the desk and perching on the side. Slowly, and without looking away from those compassionate eyes, you took his hand in yours, thumb rubbing small circles on the back of his hand.

“Everything okay, love?” you inquired, feeling the way his hand flexed in yours for a moment before relaxing.

He hummed, curling your hands together. “I’m fine, cyare” he assured, pulling your hands up to his mouth so he could brush his lips over your knuckles in a kiss.

Feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the gesture, you tried to push the reaction away. You would not be distracted by soft gestures and kisses, not when something was obviously troubling your trooper. “I don’t need to be a Jedi to know that something’s on your mind. Want to talk about it?” you offered, keeping your voice light and free from judgement. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine, you could just go home and cuddle. If he did want to talk about it, that was also fine, and you could go home and snuggle too.

Colt let out an annoyed huff before he was pushing back in the chair, wheeling it out to make some space as he pulled you onto his lap. He helped get you comfortable, knees braced on either side of his hips. His large hands ran lightly up and down your sides, leaving the dress to bunch up under his hands.

“I hated seeing him touch you” Colt admitted, burying his face into your neck and shaking his head at the rush of annoyance that he felt every time he thought back to that Senator touching you.

Realising what the problem was, you cupped his cheeks, bringing him up to face you properly. You smiled, seeing his tinted cheeks and the way he wanted to hide away from you. “It’s okay, love, it’s natural to feel jealous. It’s not wrong. I didn’t like it either, but I’m here with you and not him” you soothed, fingers tracing over his cheeks and jaw down to his neck. Leaning forward, you pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with” you murmured against his warm skin.

That seemed to be enough to set him off, as Colt slid a hand up to the back of your neck, tugging you down to meet his lips. His kiss was intense, determined to taste and feel every inch of you as you welcomed him into your mouth. The large, calloused hand on the back of your neck ensured that you couldn’t move, only stayed pressed against him as you both lost yourself into the kiss.

With every brush and sweep of his tongue against yours, you felt a heat begin simmering in your core, hips rocking against his codpiece as you felt more and more affected by his possessive touch. “Colt!” you breathed, pulling back so you could take in a breath. The clones may have an increased lung capacity, but you did not.

Colt groaned, lips swollen from your kiss before he began laying kisses along your jaw, dancing along the sensitive spot under your ear before he finally spoke. “He doesn’t deserve to even look at you!” he growled, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

Swallowing the dryness in your throat as you were dragged along the plastoid at his crotch, you took in a few shaky breaths. It seemed that what had happened at the party had pushed Colt into a rather protective and possessive mood. Knowing that you were going to reap the benefit of this mood, you pulled back a little, trying to use your common sense.

“Maybe we should take this back to my quarters?” you suggested, running your hands over the red and black pauldrons on his shoulders.

Colt let out a deep rumble from his chest, chuckling a little at you. “Oh mesh’la, I want to fuck you right here” he grinned at you, lust dripping from every word. The way his eyes darkened at the thought of fucking you here in a Senator’s office, while a party was going on a few rooms down. It was making heat pulse through him, and he restrained himself from letting out a noise as he felt his cock twitch and swell in his restrictive blacks.

Gasping, you couldn’t help the way your cunt fluttered at the thought of him fucking you right here. Where anyone could hear you if they walked passed. Biting your lip, you glanced back at the door, ensuring it was locked. “You-you shouldn’t say stuff like that” you murmured, chiding him half-heartedly.

“Why? You like it when I say stuff like that” he smirked, hands pushing your dress up your legs, letting it bunch at your waist.

“Yeah… yeah I do” you sighed, as his lips returned to work marks along your neck. His talented lips sucked and pressed against your pulse point, teeth grazing it every so often that had you letting out quiet moans. “What if-? Kriff! What if we get caught?” you managed to get out, as he nipped at your neck. It was sure to leave a bruise.

Colt sent you a wicked grin, all teeth and darkened eyes, before he leaned in to give you a chaste kiss. “They’re welcome to watch, but I don’t share, Doc” his low voice hit your ears, making your core tighten around nothing.

Maker, he was going to be the death of you. But still, you couldn’t help but think what a way to go!

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you dragged your hands over his shoulders and towards the heavy plate of armour on his chest. Just as you were about to disengage the magnetic lock that kept it attached to his body glove, Colt’s hands blanketed yours. Frowning, you shot him a confused look. Did he not want you to undress him?

“Don’t bother, love, I don’t need to take it all off to fuck you” Colt murmured, hand sliding up your arm, brushing against your shoulder before he hooked a hand round the back of your neck and brought you in for a kiss.

As his lips moved over yours, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of Colt against your tongue, the way he effortlessly began to nibble on your lip as his hands reached under your dress, toying with the thin piece of fabric between your legs. Every so often, his large, gentle fingers would brush against your slit, eliciting a breathy gasp into his mouth as you began to push against his venturing hands.

“Wait there, I need to get these off” you grumbled, raising to your knees on the chair. Removing your panties would be a lot easier if you could do this in a bed.

“Do you like these?” Colt breathed, laying kisses along your décolletage as his fingers glided up and down your inner thighs.

“No, not really. W-Colt!” you gasped, gripping onto his pauldrons to keep yourself steady as he ripped your panties off of you.

Returning his hands to your hips, he tugged you back down onto his lap, a smug smirk dancing along his lips. “Problem solved, cyare.”

Rolling your eyes, you instead trailed your fingers down his chest, skimming over his stomach plate before reaching for the codpiece that was pressing against you. You could only imagine how uncomfortable he was pressing against the plastoid, as a gentle touch had him hissing and bucking into you.

Grinning, you slid your hands back up to his chest and shoulders, reaching for the latches on his pauldron to begin taking it off. However, warm, calloused hands stopped her, bringing them up to his mouth. Sighing as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, she continued to circle her hips against his.

“I don’t need to take my pauldrons off to fuck you love, only one piece” Colt murmured, lips twitching against her fingers as you gasped at his words.

Groaning, you leaned forward, burying your heated face into his neck. “You can’t just say that! How will I ever not want to jump you every time I see you in armour now?” you whined, shaking your head. You felt his chest rumble underneath you as he laughed.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to jump me every time you see me wearing it anyway?” he asked, smug because he knew that you really enjoyed the way his armour clung to him and highlighted how broad and strong he was.

“Oh shut up!” you huffed, rolling your eyes as you pushed away from him, reaching for his codpiece again. With swift and clever fingers, you unhooked the protective plate and threw it somewhere behind you. A loud clatter echoed around the office but you didn’t care. Not one bit when you could hear the hitch in Colt’s breathing and the way his legs widened slightly underneath you.

“Hmm, good girl. You’re so good at that” Colt hummed, dark eyes looking you over as he rocked into you.

“I enjoy the practice” you chuckled, playing with the hem of his waistband. Teasingly you ran your fingers under the tight material before snapping them back against him. “Lift your hips” you instructed, eager to push them down off him.

Colt sent you a playful smirk before bucking his hips and helping you in pulling his blacks down enough so his length popped out, resting against his stomach plate.

Biting your lip, you couldn’t help but want to take him into your mouth. His thick cock was leaking, flushed and looked ready for you.

“I love that look on your face, cyare. Like you’re ready to devour me” Colt chuckled, slightly breathless at how much love and desire he saw in your eyes. He knew it was reflected in his own towards you. However much he would love to have you sink down on him, he knew he would have to open you up if he didn’t want to hurt you.

So he trailed his hands up your thighs while he caught your lips in a kiss, moaning against you as he squeezed and massaged the muscles of your thighs. His talented fingers swiped over your entrance, gathering your slick. He watched as your eyes fluttered closed, pleasure flashing across your face. He loved watching you like this. Loved knowing he was the one that can make you feel good. Coating his fingers in your slick, his thumb flicked up to your clit before he pressed one of his thick fingers inside of you. His breath hitched at the small gasp you let out against his lips. "Gotta open you up, cyare. Don't want to hurt you" he murmured, trailing kisses along your jaw. You hummed, hips bearing down on his finger inside of you. "You'd never hurt me" you said, and the conviction he heard in your voice made Colt groan against your neck.

It felt like every touch of his skin against yours set you on fire. One hand was gripping your hip, the other was opening you up for him, sliding a second finger into you as he guided you against him. A moan escaped you as Colt’s teeth grazed the thin skin of your neck, sucking a mark there that would be difficult to hide tomorrow.

Colt’s hand slid up your side, reaching to cup and squeeze your breast. He grumbled at not being able to rip your dress right off you so he could press his lips directly against your skin. But you’d both had to walk out of here, and he didn’t want anyone else to see you like that. Only him. So he continued to squeeze and massage your curves, all the while you were rocking on his fingers, pressing them further inside of you.

“Come on cyare, ride my fingers” Colt instructed, looking up at you. Your face was flushed, hair beginning to stick to your temples, eyes lidded with pleasure as your eyes met his, happiness and delight dancing in them. You had never looked more beautiful to him.

You wrapped your arms around the neck of him, steadying the weight of yourself over him as you began to roll your hips against his hand. Bouncing on his fingers as he continued to suck marks along your neck and collarbone.

“Mesh’la” he whispered, thumb circling your clit as he slipped another finger into you.

“Colt!” you whined, biting your lip as you felt him stretch you open. You ran your fingers through his cropped hair, wanting to be as close as possible to him.

“You’re soaking my hand, cyare. Gonna go all over my vambrace” he murmured, smirking up at you. He twisted the three fingers inside of you, curling them just right and firmly stroking that place inside of you that had you seeing starts.

You clenched down around his fingers, his words affecting you so much. “Kriff!” you cursed, throwing your head back as you felt Colt bury his fingers deeper inside of you, driving them in and out of you faster. “Fuck, I’m going to cum!” you managed to tell him, digging your nails into his armour. It wouldn’t make a mark but you needed something to hold onto.

“Good girl, want you to cum on my fingers” he grinned, nipping at your shoulder as he bounced you on him. When he noticed that you were muffling your noise with your hand, he let out a low growl. “Ah, want to hear you. Want that shabuir to hear just how perfect you sound when you’re like this. But I’m the only one who can do this, can make you feel like this” he growled, thumb rubbing around your clit and keeping his fingers thrusting into you.

Letting out a loud moan, you ripped your hand away. Instead, you entwined your hand with his, squeezing it as you felt the pleasure building inside of you. Colt was so good at taking you apart, his words enough to make you forget everything only him and the way he was touching you.

Gripping onto him, you let out a cry of his name as your orgasm slammed into you, eyes squeezed shut and body shuddering as he worked you through it with gentle words and continued touches.

As you slumped against him, he pressed a kiss to your temple, taking in your scent as you relaxed into him. Slipping his fingers out of your pretty cunt, he brought them up to his mouth, sucking them in and moaning obscenely.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at the sight, eyes widening at the way he was tasting you. “Kriffing hell Colt!” you breathed, staring at him.

“Not my fault you taste so good” he retorted, rubbing circles on your thigh with his other hand.

Shaking your head, you drew him into a passionate kiss, unable to help it as you tasted yourself against his lips. The mixture of your taste and his only highlighted how perfect you were for each other.

“You’re really hot when you get all jealous” you grinned against his lips, pulling away from him.

Colt rolled his eyes, scowling at the thought of that di’kut who thought you’d ever be interested in him. “Yeah, yeah” he grumbled, looking away from you as his cheeks reddened under your knowing look.

“I think it’s sweet, and cute, that you get all jealous and possessive just from talking to a Senator” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“I’m not sweet. Or cute” he huffed, leaning forward to nip at your lip as he squeezed your hips, guiding you so you were hovering over his length. “Perhaps I should show you” he warned, before he pulled you down onto his cock. He didn’t stop until you were fully seated on his lap.

Letting out a long drawn out moan, you couldn’t contain the sound as you took him into your fluttering core. His cock stretched you open, even with him preparing you on his fingers, and it took a few breaths before you felt yourself relaxing around him.

Colt was gritting his jaw, unable to believe how tight you were around him. It had only been a couple of days since the pair of you had last been together. Groaning, he rested his head against yours, your breaths mingling together as you panted through the initial burst of pleasure that came with you joining together.

“Can I move?” you panted, thumb stroking across his sharp cheekbones.

Colt nodded, hands pushing your dress further up your waist before squeezing your hips. He really wanted you to move, couldn’t wait to feel you sliding along his length.

Gathering yourself, you began to slowly rise up, your inner muscles dragging up his cock before slowly sinking back down on him. You set a slow pace, getting used to the feeling of him moving inside of you. He let out a low groan, and it sent a spark of pride through you at knowing you could make your ARC Trooper let some of his control slip enough to make a sound like that.

“Kriff, you feel incredible!” he hissed, helping to keep you steady as you continued to move over him. He watched with awe as your face fluttered with pleasure and he couldn’t help but buck his hips up into you. The way you let out a shuddering gasp and he felt your nails dig into the nape of his neck. “Mesh’la” he breathed in awe, unable to look away.

Flushing at his words, you cupped his cheeks pressing your lips against his briefly. His larger calloused hands skimmed along your sides until he gripped your hips, beginning to move you on his cock. The way his length slid inside you, stretching you around him as he slid his hands down to squeeze your ass. A moan escaped you, heat pulsing through your body with every thrust into you.

“Kriff! Colt!” you groaned, beginning to bounce on him, breath faltering as that spot inside of you was continually brushed against. You reached up to squeeze at your breasts, rocking against him as he grunted underneath you. It felt so good, he felt so good.

“That’s it cyare, take your pleasure. Take what’s yours” Colt murmured, eyes hooded as he watched you.

Clutching at him, you couldn’t help but listen to him. His words sinking into you, stoking the fire that he was creating inside of you. Watching as his jaw feathered as you clenched tightly around him, you closed your eyes at the moan he let out.

Colt let out a growl, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer to him until you were pressed against his armour. The cool plates soothing your heated skin, as you ached to get closer to him. The Commander leaned up, capturing your lips in a kiss as he continued to buck up into you. The cries of pleasure was muffled against his lips as he slid his hands up your back, holding you tight.

Whining against his lips, you pulled away, panting for breath as you met him with each thrust.

“Good girl, taking me so well” he praised, raining kisses along the column of your throat.

“Colt!” you gasped out, digging your nails into the pauldrons along his shoulders.

Colt grinned, enjoying the noises that he was forcing out of you with every thrust of his hips into your soaking core. “Use your words, mesh’la. Tell me how I’m making you feel” Colt ordered, hands gripping the nape of your neck and forcing you to meet his eyes.

The thought of describing how you were feeling to him made you flush with embarrassment. Which was crazy, seeing as he was fucking into you like a man possessed, determined to chase away any trace of the Senator from your mind. As white hot ecstasy flooded your body, you couldn’t even think how you would put it into words.

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes once more, trying to hide yourself from his heated, heavy gaze.

“Come on, mesh’la. I want to hear you” he encouraged, forcing you roughly down onto his cock.

Crying out, you couldn’t help but let the words fall from your mouth.

“So good! Oh-you-you make me feel so good” you moaned brokenly, biting your lip to try and stifle your noises. “Fill me up ‘till I can’t- I can’t think” you cried, resting your head against his.

“Good girl” he gritted out, pounding into you. He held you tight so you couldn’t move, feeling you flood his cock with your juices. Your breath was fanning against his face, and your core was clenching and fluttering around his cock like you were never going to let him go.

“So perfect for me cyare” he moaned, “you’re so beautiful.”

Angling your hips so he was hitting that place inside of you that made you collapse against his chest. “That’s it, cyare. Only I can make you feel like this. Only I can feel your beautiful cunt squeezing around me. Not that di’kut of a Senator, he wouldn’t know how to make you scream. Wouldn’t know how to make you feel so good, just by doing this” Colt growled out, one hand slipping between you so he could rub at your clit.

“Fuck!” you yelled, hips bucking back against Colt’s as it felt like he had turned everything up to a hundred. His fingers danced against the bundle of nerves just as you liked. You could feel the pleasure building and building, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Colt was right, nobody could make you feel like this, only him. Only he could send you soaring, could make you feel so loved and beautiful and wanted.

“Gonna… gonna cum” you warned him, squeezing around him so you could feel as close as possible to him.

“Mine, my cyare,” he growled, fingers gliding against your swollen bundle of nerves, “cum for me.”

With his permission and the way he was lighting up every single one of your nerves, you felt the wave of pleasure wash over you, crashing you into an orgasm. You body shuddered, trembling against his as you cried out his name, vision going white as all you could think about was how amazing you felt.

With the fluttering and tightening of your muscles around him, Colt was helpless but to follow you over the edge. He grunted out your name, thrusting up into you a few more times as he painted your walls white, sending little shock waves through you at the feel of him shooting into your pulsing channel.

Eventually the conditioned cool air of the room was beginning to make you shiver against your heated furnace and you pulled away from him, pinks still flushed from your activities. “Got that out of your system?” you couldn’t help but tease him, trailing gentle fingers along his hairline and down his jaw.

Colt rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help feeling smug at seeing you look so dishevelled and knowing that he did that to you. “Hmm, maybe. Might need another couple of rounds to make sure” he replied, chuckling at the way your face darkened and you buried yourself back into his shaking chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you back against him. He always did enjoy teasing you just as much as you teased him.

“Just as long as we can move this to my rooms. The party should be over by now, and I don’t want to meet that Senator in the hallway” you reminded, although your actions were a juxtaposition to your words. Lying your head on his chest, you allowed yourself a few more minutes in his embrace.

Your Commander didn’t seem to mind either, as he tightened his grip around you, keeping you attached together. “No, he’s going nowhere near you, love” Colt vowed, fingers trailing up and down your spine gently.

And you believed him. If Colt promised something then it was a certainty. He would make sure to keep you close to him, safe from any leery Senators. Sighing happily, you closed your eyes, happy to just be in his arms, away from the prying eyes of the galaxy.

[docholligay]

@thoughtfulfuri sorry this took me so long! A revised list of books you should look into reading this year. I could have added more ahaha, but this will keep you plenty busy.

Deeply informed by your list and the brief of:  “Books that have deeply influenced the thrust of the genre and media broadly” 

I also went for breadth over depth--you had some authors with a TON of books on your list, and if you’re looking for understanding of media influence I’m not sure that’s the best use of your time. THis isn’t a perfect list but I think it’ll provide a better net than your original. I do not know what you have an haven’t read. Spots where I think you might have read my recommendation I supplied a second. An incomplete list, because no list is ever complete, and always has huge gaps in judgment. WE can always make a new list next year! 

Agatha Christie -- And Then There Were None This was already on your list and it’s perfect. I prefer Murder On the Orient Express, but in fairness, those are the only two Christie novels I’ve ever read. And I’d keep it to one from each author. 

The Art of War — Sun Tzu  From your list, I have no issue with it

Kurt Vonnegut -- Slaughterhouse Five  This is his best and most enduring work. IF you’re looking for incredible influence, this is the one. 

Octavia Butler -- Kindred  I winnowed down your multiple Butler works to this big hitter. 

Isaac Asimov -- I, Robot From your list, make total sense

Daphne DuMaurier -- Rebecca You had My Cousin Rachel, which is great fun, but Rebecca is THE DuMaurier book. 

Leo Tolstoy -- War and Peace I replaced Crime and Pnishment with this not because I don’t like Crime and Punishment, but because if you’re going to commit to a russian novel, you may as well make it the most influential one ever written. This is routinely hailed as the best fucking novel ever written. It is in fact great. I will reread it with you this year! 

Frank Herbert -- Dune. This is from your original list and it’s fine I guess. I think reading Dune is a waste of time unless you’re super into sci-fi, but I won’t fight it. 

JRR Tolkien-- The Fellowship of the Ring From your original list and yeah absolutely. Cannot hope to ujnderstand fantasy as a genre without reading this. If you like it I recommend the whole series, but Tolkien can be hard for people. 

Harper Lee -- To Kill A Mockingbird From your list. Yes, this is an incredibly important American piece. 

Jane Austen -- Pride and Predjudice. There is no more influential Austen novel. You gotta. If you’ve read P&P read Sense and Sensibility, which has the added benefit of being at least four times better (according to people named Doc, who are me, who do not like P&P) 

Ray Bradbury -- Fahrenheit 451. I actually prefer Something Wicked from your list, but F451 is much more influential. If you’ve read Farenheit, read 1984 by George Orwell. IF you’ve read that, read Brave New World by Huxley. If you’re read that, scrap totally, your list is very sci-fi weighted anyhow. 

Oscar Wilde -- The Picture of Dorian Gray. Replaced A Woman of No Importance, which most people haven’t even heard of, with Picture, a deeply and widely referenced novel. If you’ve read picture, read “The Importance of Being Earnest” or better, watch a proshot of a play. 

Gregory McGuire--- Wicked. I dunno that I think this deserves a spot on your list, but I get that everyone’s talking about it right now. And I like the book! But it’s just not very genre influential, it’s more deeply influenced BY the genre. I left it, because I get wanting to engage with everyone talking about it, but those are my reservations.

WE ARE OFF YOUR LIST TOTALLY NOW. So I took a bunch of repeats off your list. I admire wanting to track influential books, and broaden your understanding of media generally, but I think you were sorta getting into the weeds. So I added a few others that have huge media impact. 

Charles Dickens -- David Copperfield    Boy did this suck for me to try and pick. I fucking love Charles Dickens. He was a dick in a lot of ways, revolutionary in others, and the man could write his ass off. He knew how to write a serial style that also keeps track of itself, and there is stuff that blows my mind as a modern reader even now. (If I hadn’t unintentionally made last years book clubs essentially Brit Lit 2: Brit harder i would be doing a Dickens novel for book club. I do have an idea of theming this year as “The American Answer” so like, we did Brideshead last year and the, well, an, American answer to that book is the Secret History. Here On Earth for Wuthering Heights. I don’t know. Actually, there’s an AMerican restyling of David Copperfield in my to-reads for this year) BUT ANYWAY, I ended up picking David Copperfield. It was Dickens’ own favorite, it’s one of his only first person novels, and it is the clearest example of Dickens’ tendency to impress himself upon a character. It has its flaws, of course, but I think centering yourself on David, a nostalgic, emotional writer trying to make his way in the world up from poverty, gives you a great understanding of both Dickens’ incredible influence and his own understanding of HIMSELF. Wow that was a lot of words. I have feelings about Charles Dickens. Sorry. 

Toni Morrison -- Beloved I didn’t like this book, when I read it. But it is good, it won the fucking Pulitzer Prize. I think Song of Solomon is better for me though. Anyway, you have to read Toni Morrison. The way she weaves in the Black American experience with undertones of magical realism impacts the way stories of what I’m going to call “difficult narratives” are allowed to be told today, influencing even people outside of the Black community. 

Salman Rushdie -- The Satanic Verses A masterwork of parallel storytelling, people keep trying to kill Rushdie over this book, a fantastic story about the immigrant experience in Great Britian. 

And some genre stuff for flavor: 

Spy Novels:

Ian Fleming -- Casino Royale  You know who james fucking Bond is. He was a book character first! 

John LeCarre -- The Spy who Came in From the Cold Okay, I am gonna level with you that this and fleming are two opposite poles, but I think they are two opposite poles that give you a really good look at what the spy novel can be and has been. I really enjoy John LeCarre despite not being huge into the genre

Horror: 

Shirley Jackson -- The Haunting of Hill House  This is the novel that launched Stephen King of all people, among others. Jackson is a fucking genius. 

Stephen King -- The Shining Horror is hard, because I read and love a lot of it. But The Shining had a huge influence on both horror and the American consciousness broadly. 

Fantasy:

TH White-- The Once and Future King. Were you at the book club for this? I cannot fucking remember to save my own life. Anyway, if you weren’t, this and LoTR changed fantasy forever. Same time period, even. How we understand fantwasy broadly today comes out of how Tolkien and White were thinking of it. If you read this, read The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by CS Lewis. 

Grr Martin-- A Game of Thrones Oh, I’m gonna get letters. But genuinely this book changed the game in fantasy, and had a huge cultural impact on America and many other Western countries.

[aziraphales-library]

I didn't know the fandom had librarians! This is amazing!

I read Factory Settings recently and I'd like to find more fanfics that deal in multiple realities, split realities or time travel / time loops etc. Do you know of any?

Hi! We actually have tags for these, so do check out the fics we've already recommended here: #multiverse, #alternate universe, #time travel, and #time loop. Here are more to add to the collections...

A Moment Suspended in Sea Spray by cassieoh (T)

Green filled his vision in the brief second before he instinctively tucked his head away in his coils. Crawly didn’t think there had ever been anything green and growing in Hell save perhaps a good mold behind Hastur’s knees. Cautiously, he inched the very tip of his nose out of his coils and flicked his tongue. Growing things. Soil. Apples. The oil left behind by human hands. Something strange and sharp smelling. Under it all, a smell he knew but couldn’t place. This wasn’t Hell.

Limitless by SmokingMirrorChaos, Yvesriba (T)

Crowley has never known a world with Aziraphale. Where he's from, his counterpart was the angel Anathema. 6000 years of friendship eventually lead to them traveling between worlds until they discover one where there has never been a Crowley. But, there is an Aziraphale. They met and fall in love and with Aziraphale, Crowley finds the happiness he's always sought. A tale told in Crowley's stories to Aziraphale and flashbacks.

creatures of circumstance by attheborder (M)

Anthony J. Crowley, Jr. is the prodigal son of CrowleyCorp, the UK’s most powerful, dangerous, and controversial technology company. A one-night stand with a mysterious man who calls himself Aziraphale tips his hopeless life upside-down into a dangerous obsession. And somewhere else entirely, a girl-shaped creature is presiding over the back room of a bookshop in Soho, where an angel and a demon lay unconscious on the floor…

Endless Night by AppleSeeds (T)

Spending Halloween in an old cottage with his housemates, university student Crowley finds himself trapped in a time loop that repeats every four hours, with only the spirit of Anathema's dead witchy ancestor to help guide him. Agnes believes the time loop has been triggered by Crowley's own thoughts, and that the only way to break it is to ensure that Aziraphale, who Crowley is completely infatuated with, actually enjoys himself. Despite how flustered he gets every time he even looks at Aziraphale, Crowley does everything he can to try to make that happen. But no matter what he tries, things keep going wrong.

World Enough And Time by Stephquiem (T)

For Aziraphale, there were always two Crowleys: the First Crowley, the one he met in the Garden, the one he's spent 6000 years meeting across human history. And there is the Second Crowley, the one who comes to him across time, again and again, propelled, it would seem, by some unknown tragedy. Both, his hereditary enemy. His dearest friend. For Crowley, there is a Before, and there is an After. Before, he spent 6000 years as Hell's agent on Earth, seeing Aziraphale occasionally, working together where they could get away with it. After... After, he's drawn back over and over, like he's attached by a tether that just won't let him go. Not that he wants it to let him go. The alternative...

Smoke and Mirrors by cyankelpie (T)

“If we want the truth from him, he needs to feel safe enough to speak truthfully,” said Gabriel. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘The traitor couldn’t possibly feel safe while he’s in Heaven for interrogation!’ And you’d be right.” His grin widened. “But—this is where it gets really good—he won’t even know that’s where he is.” (Aziraphale is imprisoned in Heaven, but breaks free thanks to Crowley’s help. On Earth, Crowley wakes up from his pandemic nap to find Aziraphale missing. Meanwhile, two angels watch an imaginary life unfold, with all the time in the world to wait for the answers they need.) And the sequel, dealing with the aftermath: Reality Check

- Mod D

[esotericbluntbaby]

the consequences of radio silence

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: after the reader sees another girl as a threat in her relationship, she distances herself from hamzah as a form of protection, not realizing that it's not as simple as going silent.

mentions: angst, past infidelity in an ex relationship, miscommunication/lack of communication, argument, she/her pronouns, sfw! (unless you guys want a part two lol)

i highly recommend listening to lover, you should come over by jeff buckley. i was listening to it while writing this lol.

---

you never realized how the language of eye contact can be louder than the words that you speak until hamzah showed you. however, the journey of getting to the point of a certain understanding was full of turmoil.

three days ago, you and your boyfriend attended a close friend's house party. though you guys didn't share your apartment on the lease, his shoes were almost always placed outside next to yours and he had his own toothbrush shared in the wooden cup you thrifted together. the apartment, though cozy and radiating with warmth, began to feel stuffy after staying home for a solid week. therefore, hamzah and you decided to put on some other clothes, specifically ones that were less worn out than the sweatpants and t-shirts you marinated in, and go out.

the party was stereotypical and naive, personified as a teenage girl smoking a cigarette and getting drunk on both the music and alcohol that consumed her. it was sweaty, combatting the body heat that your home radiated with its own personal foil of bodies almost stuck together like gummies on a hot day. laughter and house music echoed throughout the beige, poster-covered walls of the one-story house; a typical college scene was held in the eyes of hamzah and you.

your friend greeted the both of you, giving you both an intro to the festivities around you. the bar was, quite obviously, the table with all the alcohol and red solo cups stacked upon one another. somewhere in the corner was beer pong, surrounded by copy and paste frat boys being each others yes men, next to the kitchen with finger foods and party favors. with all the chaos happening in the house, you and hamzah decided to stick together.

until, you decided to use the restroom and came back to the sight of hamzah getting his arm playfully hit by another girl, both smiling and seemingly enjoying each other's presence. she was pretty: the kind of girl that people writes songs about, the kind of girl that only needs mascara and lip gloss to be pretty, the kind of girl that your ex cheated on you with. you watched from afar, memories of infidelity from your past relationship floating around your brain. you were not new to the concept of toxicity in relationships; in fact, before you met hamzah, it was all you were used to.

you convinced yourself that he would never do that to you. he is not the man who hurt you, actually, he proved that he isn't; it's why you became his girlfriend, in the first place. you know him. you don't know a lot of people, but gazing into his eyes makes everything fall into place. hamzah was the epitome of perfection in your eyes, possibly, even more. you now know why you've spent your life yearning to be loved; he was there now, not only loving you, but knowing you as well. he prides himself in his adoration for his girlfriend. there would be no reason for him to cheat.

however, you felt a rock being thrown to the walls of your heart from the veins inside when you saw her whisper in his ear, and watched him chuckle at whatever she said to him. that smile he gave her; the same smile he would give you whenever you'd say something stupid that would make him laugh. his teeth, the ones that you would compliment him for since the imperfections in it suits him, is now visible in a genuine smile for another woman.

you stared at him from afar trying to convince yourself that he wasn't like anyone else you've loved and lost; that he would never be like those who created a shell of who you once were and the ghost of complete trust in most relationships. however, with each small gesture, touch, and laughter, you began to doubt yourself.

so, you shut down as your mind became your own personal prison. you were in a state where you escaped from your body, being locked in a cage where the walls wrote the promises that were broken by other people, using your own blood to write each lie, taunting you and teasing you with false hope. each lie repeated in your head until hamzah called you over, motioning with his hand in a motion waving towards him.

"are you alright?" he asked you, putting his hand on your shoulder, enveloping you in a side hug as the woman's grin turned straight and cold.

you nodded, "yeah, i'm fine."

"i want you to meet maeve, an old friend of mine from, like, high school, i believe?"

you opened your mouth to greet her, to which she interrupts you, "actually, middle school. i go waaaay back with this guy, isn't that right hamzah?"

he nodded, smiling, "yeah, it's been how long now?"

maeve scoffs and nudges his arm again, "years. genuine years. i've missed you!"

you cough, clearly uncomfortable by the scene in front of you. yet, a part of you didn't want to seem weak for feeling so upset. guilt started to rise from your stomach, extending to your throat. how could you think that your boyfriend would cheat on you like that? but, then again, you also contradict yourself in your own head; why wouldn't he?

"are you sure you're okay?" your boyfriend asks you, a look of genuine worry in his eyes.

"yeah, i'm fine."

-

an hour passed by, an uncomfortable lack of conversation coming out of your mouth. you were always the talker as hamzah listened to you. you never realized that he would be a talker to another woman as you took the role of listener. you decided to leave them alone, going with a couple friends of yours to the basement; your heart couldn't take the painful flashbacks and concern. going back up from the basement, you hesitated on looking at them. however, he appeared behind you and hugged you from behind, resting his head on the top of your scalp. it was weird; this was the first time you didn't want to be touched by him, compared to a full two years of yearning for his fingertips interlocking with yours. finally, he said his goodbyes to those he knew at the party as you did too.

the car ride was quiet: the kind of quiet after a certain loss. you saw his gaze in the corner of your eye, glancing at you, as your eyes were trained on the dark road ahead of you. almost reading your emotion, he placed his hand on your thigh. you knew his intentions of comforting you, however, the image of maeve and him wouldn't leave your head as the movement of the car remained steady.

"what's up?"

you snapped out of your trance, confused, "hm?"

he reached a stoplight and looked at you, "you're quiet. normally, you'd be telling me about all the tea you heard of at the party and we'd be talking mad shit. something's wrong. did something happen while you were in the bathroom? i swear to god if something happened-"

"no, hamzah," your voice got quiet, "nothing happened."

the last thing you wanted to be was overbearing; maybe the lack of communication is bad, however, you couldn't help it. you shattered, once. someone dropped you and the shell of your old self shattered. you spent all this time, picking up all the pieces off of the floor and gluing yourself back together. you were not going to let him drop you and leave you for yourself to clean up as if you were the maid of your own house.

"baby, you can talk to me," the car started again.

your voice shook, "please, just drop it, i'm fine."

"but you're obviously not! you're so quiet, you haven't spoken a word besides yes and no ever since we got in the car. talk to me," he pulled up into the designated parking to your apartment and gently grabbed your face with both of his hands, forcing eye contact within the space of both of you.

you teared up, a moment of weakness breaking, "please go home. i just need space."

his eyebrows furrowed a look of confusion, hurt, sadness, anguish; genuinely any negative emotion in the book of empathy. yet, he let you go.

"please, please text me if you need something. i love you, i don't know what's going on, but i'm here. i promise you," he reassured as he kissed your forehead.

you got out of the car and quickly walked off, vanishing into the interior of your apartment complex.

--

three days have passed since the party. hamzah offered to come over to talk the day after, leaving text messages for you to read.

hamzah! <3 :)

11:45 am | baby

11:45 am | can we talk?

11:45 am | pls

11:46 am | tell me what's wrong pls

11:46 am | can i come over?

1:06 pm | i won't come over unless you give me permission. i can't force you to do anything. but pls at least send me a text if ur okay.

1:06 pm | i lvoe you

1:07 pm | love*

3:02 pm | please baby respond i'm worried

3:02 pm | if someone did something while you were in the bathroom, you could tell me i promise i won't do anything to them i'll be there to support you

3:06 pm | just talk to me i'm here

5:23 pm | i love you a lot

5:23 pm | i hope you know that

5:23 pm | i've been pretty bored without u

5:24 pm | martin is currently over

5:24 pm | he's ranting about mandy which is kinda horrible timing for the state we're in rn

5:24 pm | i'm thinking of u when he talks about how in love he is with her

5:24 pm | i wanna marry you one day the way that he's gonna propose to her soon

5:54 pm | me and martin are gonna get tacos

5:54 pm | so if u want some i can drop some off

5:55 pm | so js let me know

6:24 pm | i got 4 carne asada tacos martin literally got 7 wtf

6:24 pm | ok i kinda wish i got 7 this shits mad good

7:30 pm | i got u flowers

7:30 pm | and the chips u like from that one fancy ass grocery store like 40 minutes away

7:31 pm | i forced martin to drive me there to get you them since ik u like them a lot

7:31 pm | i also got u some mangos

7:31 pm | it was buy 3 get 2 free

7:42 pm | i'm still worried about you

7:42 pm | i was hoping my text messages would distract you from how ur feeling rn which is hwy i even told u abt the deal on the mangos

7:42 pm | so in case u thought i was js updating u on my day bc i stopped caring

7:42 pm | its not that

7:42 pm | in fact i dont think i could ever stop caring abt u

7:42 pm | i love u so much

9:51 pm | it's been a full day

9:51 pm | i'm sorry but i'm kind of upset at u

9:51 pm | why did u ghost me the whole day

9:51 pm | not even one text?

10:20 pm | really?

10:20 pm | still?

10:20 pm | what happened to talking things out?

10:21 pm | or do we js not do that anymore in this relationship lol

12:01 am | i didnt mean that im so sorry i didnt mean that at all that was so passive aggressive im sorry

12:01 am | im just worried about u thats all im really fucking worried

12:01 am | i just wantu to be okay

12:01 am | i want to talk to u

12:01 am | i want to hold u

12:01 am | i want to kiss u

12:01 am | i want things to be okau

12:01 am | i want u to say something insanely sarcastic and i want to roll my eyes at how stupid it was

12:01 am | i want to see u laugh

12:01 am | fuck please please just fucking text me please baby please

12:01 am | i'll do anything

2:23 am | am i burdening you

2:23 am | do you think i'm annoying you

2:23 am | i'm sorry i wasn't thinking about how all of my texts could make u feel i was just worried and i wanted u to know that i love and care abt u

2:23 am | if ur asleep rn i hope you're sleeping well

2:23 am | i cant rly sleep rn

2:24 am | i dont think i can sleep without u tbh ive been sleeping with u for how long now its been so long since i havent slept w u

4:55 am | still awake

4:55 am | i'll do anything for u to feel happy and okay again

4:55 am | i'd even eat shitty coleslaw again

4:55 am | insane amounts of it

4:55 am | only for u

your heart hurt with every customized ping of hamzah's texts. by the end of the day, you didn't know if silence was a good thing or not on your behalf. you stopped talking to protect yourself, however, seeing the boy you love the most hurt possibly even more than the reason you were distancing yourself. however, you were in too deep of this cycle of self-despair, loathing, and pity all mixed into one.

the next day, it was radio silence on both of your ends. the silence was almost deafening, being amplified by the pit you feel in both your heart and stomach. you missed him. you looked at your shared photo album of you two together, reminiscing on the memories you shared. the aquarium where you two took an edible each and got absolutely blasted underneath the underwater tunnel. the bowling alley where you joked around about getting the ick as he overexaggerated his movements. the lodge where you two made a shitty snowman and shared a hot cocoa. you scrolled all the way up to the mountaintop he took you when you guys were still friends, the city skyline visible in the background. you swiped; it was now your first kiss displayed on the screen in front of you. by now, your eyes became opened dams, water flooding out of them. you went to bed, tears staining your eyes.

on the third day, you both still didn't reach out. you were waiting for him to inevitably break up with you for not being able to talk. you felt horrible; you felt cowardly for not simply telling him how you feel and what was bothering you. you believed you were such a terrible, terrible girlfriend. until, the doorbell rang.

it was him; in front of you with puffy eyes, a black hoodie with sweatpants, and tear-stained cheeks, holding flowers and a reusable trader joes bag filled with mangoes and chips.

"can i come in?"

--

the bag sat on your dining room table, the flowers put into a blue tinted vase. the two of you sat on the couch, inches apart. you don't recall the last time you were on the cough not interlocked in some sense, like your hands or your legs or your arms. it's silent. both of you are exchanging glances, almost as if you were strangers, never daring to lock eyes at the same time. you were about to speak, until he did it for you.

"did you find someone else at the party?"

you were stunned, "what?"

he sighed, "you said nothing happened in the bathroom. i was scared someone touched you or something. but you said that nothing happened in there."

you nodded.

"are you lying to me? did you find someone else? did you.. did you cheat on me at that party?" he asked you.

suddenly, all the emotions you felt became too overwhelming.

you looked at him with a face of disbelief and stood up from the couch, "are you serious? you're asking me that?"

he sighed, standing up as well, "i'm not trying to make you angry, i promise. i'm asking because you just suddenly stopped talking and i'm so confused."

"so your first instinct was to accuse me of cheating."

his facial expression mirrored yours, "i'm sorry?" he said sarcastically, "what do you mean 'first?' my first instinct was to text you and make sure you were okay! fuck, i literally texted you so much. what did i get? nothing. i got nothing for three days. you left me for three days and you're telling me that my first instinct was to just argue with you?" he scolded.

"no, i'm saying that you think i cheated on you. that's so fucking rich, hamzah."

frustration bubbled into the conversation, "what are you even talking about?"

you went silent, avoiding eye contact.

he continues, "see! this is what i mean! you just shut down. you have to talk to me. staying absolutely quiet doesn't do shit; it just fucking worries the shit out of me and it makes everything fucking worse. just talk!"

you looked at the floor, trying to hold back tears.

"please. fucking please just tell me what's wrong. what happened? do you not trust me anymore?" he asks, still looking at you with a facial expression of frustration.

still nothing from you; you stared.

hamzah crouches down at eye level, gently grabbing your face and mimicking his actions from the car ride home from the party, "please. i'll get on my knees and beg if i have to."

you stared at him as he waited. the frustration in his face suddenly turned into patience. you knew that he knew you; you knew that he understood you. suddenly, looking into your eyes, things began to make sense once more for hamzah. he nodded, a symbol of his understanding towards you. looking into his eyes, you realized how much he's been yearning for you for the past three days. you noticed the eyebags, visibly protruding from underneath his eyes. you saw it all: the lack of sleep, the hurt you caused him, the pain that you induced. you noticed the way he looked at you in that moment; he didn't want to hurt you.

you whispered, "hamzah, i'm scared."

his voice matched the volume of yours, "i'm here, baby. sit down. tell me what's wrong."

you sat with him, still inches apart, voice still quiet, "i was scared at the party."

"why?"

you sighed shakily and stumbled upon your words, "i saw you smiling with her. you know how i've been cheated on. i tried my best to just tell myself you'd never do that. but i guess the more i saw you guys smiling and laughing and her touching your arm and whispering in your ear- everything just didn't make sense. then, the way she talked to you and basically just ignored me made me feel so weird and like i knew you would never do that to me, i know that you would never cheat, but what if you did? then what- do i just break and fall apart and pick myself up again? would it just be this cycle of me getting hurt?"

guilt, mixed with understanding and remorse was plastered onto his features.

you continued, "so, i stopped talking. i guess i just convinced myself that you would hurt me the way that my ex hurt me, as well. i thought, this way, you could hurt me the least if you were going to hurt me."

he moved closer, bringing your head into the crevice of his neck. hamzah went through the stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. this was the acceptance he was finally waiting for. he stroked your hair as you rested on his shoulder, your whole body weight moving onto his. you felt his lips on your forehead, pecking once with adoration and love laced into it. you stayed like that for about five minutes without him saying anything.

"baby, the goal is to not hurt you at all."

you moved off his shoulder and looked at him.

"i noticed her too. i didn't like the way she treated you. when you left to go with aisha and faye, i told her that you were my girlfriend. she tried to get closer to me- told me that you wouldn't have to know. y'know what i did?"

you looked at him with fear and paranoia, "what?"

"i told her to fuck off. i left her. i blocked her on instagram, too. then, i went to look for you and you were already there at the top of the stairs. i was going to tell you about what she did, but you seemed upset already so i was going to wait. then, when you started being really quiet, i thought someone did something to you in the bathroom, so maeve flirting with me was the least of my worries."

"really?"

he moved your legs onto his lap, cradling you with his arms and holding eye contact.

"y'know, you're the first girl i've ever taken seriously. i just remember our first kiss. in the parking lot on lovers point. you thought it was just a coincidence that i took you there- that it was just some random spot i knew of."

you asked, "was it not?"

"i spent two days making pros and cons lists of different places to take you. i chose this place because the day before we were going to go out, you mentioned how you wanted to see the city's skyline. then i kissed you and it was like everything i've ever gone through- every struggle, every ounce of pain, every misfortune i've been through- it was like all of it was worth it. because i'm alive and because it led me to you."

culpability entered your soul, "i'm sorry."

he grabbed you by the cheek once more and kissed you on the lips. it was soft, a whisper or an essence of all the love he's given you and all the love he's felt for you. it was a kiss opposite of desperation; he was no longer desperate because he knew he had you, and vice versa.

"you have to talk to me."

"i will, i promise. i don't know what i was thinking. i'm sorry for hurting you and i'm sorry for ghosting you."

"i'm sorry if i seemed friendly with maeve. she means absolutely jackshit to me. i genuinely do not give a fuck about her. and i'm sorry for getting angry in our texts. i didn't mean it."

"i forgive you."

he kissed you once more, this one longer than the last. your lips intertwined within each other, as well as aspects of the overall soul and body of the relationship. when he pulled away, he took a couple of seconds to just stare.

"what?" you asked him.

he pecked your cheek, "i just missed seeing you. i just wanted to take it all in."

"y'know what i missed?"

"hm?"

you smirked, "the chips from lorenzo's."

he gasped dramatically, "wow. not me? the love of your life? the best boyfriend you've ever had? your other half? i'm offended. i'm so offended, in fact, i'm mad at you."

"i mean, my very loving and caring and sweet boyfriend got them for me," you joked, "you're mad at me again? what will i do?"

he rolled his eyes before his lips met yours, "i was never mad at you. i just missed you."

"corny," you teased.

he sighs, playfully with sarcasm laced into it.

you kissed his cheek, "are we okay?"

"we're okay, baby. we always will be, i promise."

--

authors note!

hi guys wow my first fanfic on this account. this might be a little dramatic so apologies if it's a little horribly written but oh well. i hope u guys like this. also i think i opened my requests so u guys can now request things! hooray!

[a-fic-reviewer-757]

the cost of being a good dad:

by: Mawiiish | word count : 96,533 | AO3 | chapters: 10/10 | rating : Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:

Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian are all tired of watching Bruce struggle with the stress of trying to handle the newly formed Justice League. He needs an outlet, he needs to relax, he needs to get out of the house, he needs... he needs to start dating. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

--

“Excuse me, I don’t know who you think I am, but I think there’s been a mistake.”

“Bruce, right?” the guy says, albeit less confidently this time. He looks slightly concerned and if Bruce is not mistaken… a tad embarrassed. “Bruce Wayne? You look just like your pictures.”

“My pictures?” Something finally clicks in Bruce’s mind, and he takes a small step back and plasters a smile on his face as to not rouse suspicion. Stalker. “Ah, of course, I’m sorry but I’m late for an appointment.”

Tags :

superbat - Freeform l Online Dating l Catfishing l Blind Datebat boys wanting their dad to be happy l Flirting l Bickering l Bad Pick-Up Lines l the boys are menaces l Bruce Wayne is So Done l Bruce Wayne is tired l Clark Kent is being catfished l Misunderstandings l POV Multiple l Getting Together l Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence l Dialogue Heavy l there's a lot of bat family dynamics as wellI l Identity Porn l Identity Reveal l Angst with a Happy Ending l Hurt Bruce Wayne l emotional and physical Hurt Bruce Wayne l Jason Todd Feels l First Kiss l Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings

Review : 💜💜💜💜💜

Frankly, I have to say this is one of the funniest fics I've read in a while — what a way to start the year with a bang! Superbat is one of my favorite couples, but it's rare for me to find a fic where I truly enjoy how both characters are portrayed. This one nailed it. The story captures their nuances perfectly — Clark’s gentleness and kindness tempered by his immense alien strength, and Bruce’s struggles with self-image and paranoia. The balance between them felt authentic and compelling. The fic had its highs and it s even higher moments, and the ending didn’t feel forced at all, which is such a win in my books. The sequel is also fantastic, and I’m waiting with so much anticipation to see if the author writes more in this universe. I know I’d absolutely love it. With the recent surge in Superbat content, this is a fic I’d definitely recommend to any fan of the ship.

[cha-melodius]

May I ask you about your writing??? First of all and possibly most importantly, how do you do it? How do you find inspiration and such? How do you make it happen? Because I sat down with a really juicy idea not long ago and I was excited and it was incredibly hard. I deleted it, I was embarrassed. So how do you first, come up with a great idea (which you do you write such cool stuff!) and then bring it to fruition? I’ve always been a decent writer but I was really frustrated with the fic I set out to write!!!

Hey anon! Sorry for sitting on this for a while but it came in the night before a big academic conference for me, so I've had almost no time for anything, sadly.

First off, thank you so much for the compliment on my writing! A lot of the direct answers to your questions are not very satisfying, tbh. Ideas come to me from everywhere—things I watch, read, random internet things—and how I bring it to fruition mostly involves a lot of planning. I got a lot happier with my work when I started making outlines for my fics, so I always know where I want to go with the story and how I'm getting there, versus meandering around aimlessly.

I'm guessing that there was something about your idea that was particularly challenging, since you said that you've always been a decent writer but found what you produced frustrating. Since I don't know the details I'm gonna give some advice that will hopefully cover a few different aspects. And first, a short list, and then the details under the cut because I'm a wordy bitch.

Just keep writing. It can take a while to find your voice.

Get help. Seek out 'subject experts' and people who you think are good at writing the kinds of stories you want to write.

Read a lot, and broadly, especially in the genre you want to write.

1. Just keep writing. It can take a while to find your voice.

I started writing fanfic (or, re-started, because I wrote when I was young and then took a looooong break) to get the stories out of my head, and my first fics were not great lol. They were also for a rarepair and approximately 5 people read them, so there wasn't much pressure I suppose. I was just putting them on AO3 because I figured why not? And then I just kept writing, off and on for different fandoms, until the writing bug really caught me and I started producing a lot more, about five years ago. But it probably took me ~20 fics (several of which were quite long) before I'd consider my stuff to be decent. Whether you share your early works or not is up to you, but in general I'd recommend it because there's a good chance someone will love it (even if you consider it to be substandard) and that can help you feel better about your own writing. I didn't start out good at writing action, but I wrote (and read, see below) consistently in a lot of action-heavy fandoms, so I got a lot of practice. I also feel like the more I wrote, the more ideas I got, and the more unique ideas I got.

You occasionally see someone in fandom who's like "this is my first fic!" and it gets really popular or and lots of hype or whatever, but that's not the typical experience. Most of us start out writing like crap. It's ok. It gets better.

2. Get help. Seek out 'subject experts' and people who you think are good at writing the kinds of stories you want to write.

Ok, so you wrote a first draft you were disappointed in. Ask yourself what was disappointing about it? Do you feel like the beats aren't hitting, or the action is wooden, or the language is awkward? The great thing about fandom and fanfiction is that there are so many people that are willing to help out as beta readers or even just someone to talk to. I understand that getting a beta reader can seem daunting. You don't want someone to criticize your work, or it might seem embarrassing to show someone else a work you feel bad about. But if you get someone else to read it, you'll have the chance to both hear good things about it and also get advice about things you're uncertain about. People come to fandom from all walks of life and I'm a big fan of asking for help if you're writing about something you're not super familiar with. I've never actually been to therapy, so getting help from @celeritas2997 was absolutely critical for me to feel good about my couple's therapy AU. Also you can ask people for advice if they write the kinds of fics you want to write—I've had multiple people ask me for help with their action scenes, and I'm always happy to lend an eye and give advice.

Also, related to this: it's ok if you don't like your first draft. But don't delete it! Put it aside, whether you ask someone else to look at it or not, and come back to it a while later with fresh eyes. It may not be as terrible as you thought! Or maybe there are parts you still hate, but there are other parts that you can work on and revise.

3. Read a lot, and broadly, especially in the genre you want to write.

Want to write sci-fi? Read a lot of sci-fi novels. Read a lot of sci-fi AUs. Break out of your fandom and read fics in fandoms you don't know—I used to do this a lot and it was one of the most important steps in my process of finding my own voice as well as understanding how stories are built. When you read in only one fandom, you get used to a lot of the same voices and types of stories, but there is SO MUCH out there. I've been known to scroll through the 'Enemies to Lovers' tag on occasion, but also I will go into fandoms for media I know but have no strong connection to, don't want to write in but know the characters, and read those. I spent a lot of time reading X-men, Good Omens, Witcher, even MCU juggernauts like Stucky even though I don't really ship them. I know it probably sounds crazy to tell you to go read other fandoms when (I'm assuming you're RWRB) there's so much in this one, but I do think it's valuable. This one is not only for getting exposed to a lot of writing styles, but also lots of ideas. I've definitely gotten a lot of ideas that spun off from something else I read.

I feel like none of this is particularly revolutionary advice, but I hope it at least gives you (and anyone else who manages to read this far lol) some confidence to keep going and go after those stories you want to write. Everyone—me, popular fandom writers, professional authors—started out just writing a lot, and they improved over time.

Most importantly: just keep going. You can do it!!

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film Girl Shy. It depicts Harold Lloyd's character Harold Meadows sat at his typewriter, paused in thought as his fingers hover above it. His eyes are looking up and his mouth is slightly open, like he's dreaming awake. A thought bubble floats around him like smoke, with the faces of two women in the middle of it. The two have annotations next to them that denote the twenties era stereotypes that they are styled as. The one noted as "the flapper" is smiling and has curly, slightly unkempt hair, with a headband around it. She has lighter makeup than the woman next to her, who has dark lips and eyeshadow and is labelled "the vamp". She has large circular statement earrings and an ornate headpiece atop her smooth updo. Her eyes are downturned, and her expression less approachable. Harold is coloured in greyscale, and so are the ladies, although they have a warmer brown tone, as does the smoke. There's a pinker line of light surrounding them and the writing. The background is a dark brown.]

Inktober - Day 15 (Guidebook)

Film - Girl Shy (Fred C. Newmeyer, Sam Taylor, 1924)

[uncanny-tranny]

When I find it hard to do certain things, I like to pretend I am a neanderthal living in a cave with my clan, and I must do The Thing in order to survive.

So, when I'm doing cardio at the gym, I'm actually chasing and tracking a mammoth, and when I need to cook, well, I'm not cooking on a stove top, I am hurdled over the first fire and watching the fat of our kill drip down onto the burning wood. And when I find it hard to crochet, I pretend that the first winter storm is coming and our clan needs me to make blankets to hurdle under and that I must contribute.

I hope whatever you do to do The Things will help. It is a uniquely personable trait to motivate yourself through pretend and stories. That's what makes this life interesting - that's what makes you feel larger than yourself 💛

[radicalrobotz]

i like hungry lamu but he is going to be the next freddy fazbear in the kitchen for me

[kanerallels]

Sometimes I feel like I don't care what other people think and other times. Sigh

[laurellala-comics]

there are two wolves inside of you. One of them is fretting that you went through all the effort of making a new art account just to pigeonhole yourself once more into a specific fandom, which holds you back from exploring original art concepts that you care about. The other one came up with three separate ace attorney comic ideas in the last hour alone and isn't stopping anytime soon

[musical-chick-13]

Once again: the so-called "General Fandom History," in terms of which things get held up as Iconic™ or Well-Done™ or Worth Analyzing™ has disproportionately focused on (cis, abled) white men. Some of us would like to not have everything be focused on this one demographic and would, in fact, love to not constantly hear--implicitly or explicitly--how stories about people like us are inherently less interesting or less worthy of telling.

"Remember your history," WE KNOW THE HISTORY. AND WE WANT TO MOVE ON.