#so it might be fun just to get more social

[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.)

[transmutationisms]

hi - looking to get more into reading history books instead of just researching online… do you have any tips on vetting books/authors for liberalism, racism, etc… in the past i’ve found this very hard to do with nonfiction before actually reading the book. are there publishers, etc i should be looking out for? esp bc there’s ideas/trains of thoughts/scholars i might not recognize as biased, liberal, conservative etc. if i’m not well-versed in the discourse of the subject.

in general if you are looking for refereed (peer-reviewed) academic nonfic, you are going to have to assume the texts will reflect not only the ideological values of the institutions (universities and university presses) that produce them, but also the winnowing effect that ensures only a select few people even get the opportunity to publish this way -- these individuals also have class interests and those tend to overlap heavily with those of the institutions, both because people who can make it to this stage of an academic career tend to be bourgeois and petit-bourgeois to begin with, and because even those who weren't almost invariably come down with a case of temporarily embarrassed petit-bourgeois syndrome sometime in between phd candidacy and book manuscript submission.

which is to say I really cannot give you a good vetting list to eliminate liberals and racists from your academic nonfic reading. sorry! you will spend a lot of time reading people you disagree with, people who did valuable archival research but interpret it in chronically liberal idealist ways, people who are right on one historical point and wrong on all the others, &c. even when I read the rare communist historian I can't remember ever co-signing the entirety -- this kind of criticism is just part of the process.

I do think, though, there are some helpful things you can look for that can cue you as to whether a book is worth reading critically or is just straight up trash. ymmv and this is definitely a non-exhaustive list but here's some of what I look for:

read the methodology notes in the intro. phrases like "contextualist history" (= social and economic context) are a good sign. "history from below" or "social history" also tend to be helpful (read: this book talks about 'ordinary people' and labourers, not just heads of state and military).

intros should also signpost if the book deals with colonialism and/or imperialism; look for substantive statements about these.

in rare cases in certain subfields you may see references to a distinction between 'internalist' (idealist, whiggish, great man histories) vs 'externalist' (contextualist) approaches.

everybody in history footnotes foucault, so that means nothing in any direction. anybody who footnotes marx positively in the last 30 or so years is at least going to be a fun time, but is often also a dipshit. scan for other big 'theory' names you may recognise -- even before you know the historiography, this can help indicate what you're getting into

you can also read intro + conclusion first, and that can help you gauge whether the chapters are worth it. not always perfectly indicative, though

academic presses are all clowns but if you read a lot in specific areas you will definitely start to get a sense of certain clusters of clownery if you're paying attention to the frontmatter. like for example if a history text came out of berkeley in the 90s it might still be stupid but I do kind of know what flavour of stupid it will be and what I can expect to extract from it

on that note, it literally is helpful to skim the acknowledgments at the beginning and idk why more people don't do this lol. look for names of scholars they credit as having given feedback (on manuscripts or conference presentations), as well as the name of their advisor if it's a first book. the first few times you do this you won't recognise any names and that's fine, but when you start to see repeats or see names you've read before you actually gain a lot of information right off the bat on the author's ideological and political milieux lol

look at what journals it was reviewed in. again reviews in flagship journals don't automatically mean it's good but it tells you about the intended audience, with all the baggage that entails

books reviewed in mass media (legacy newspapers, etc) tend to be aimed at a popular audience and are intended to be more readable, with less dense scholarly references and often thinner primary source work. again this doesn't mean the academic publications are automatically good.

zero shame in reading book reviews, either before or after reading the book. reviewers are part of the same clown system as authors and publishers. but seeing how other scholars talk about the book and topic is very helpful for clueing you into what sorts of debates are happening in the field, what their ideological parameters are, and how the author in question comes down on them

you are allowed and even required to disagree if an author is wrong lol. I would say the no. 1 thing I run across in what I read is like, decent to good historical work on racialisation but the interpretation will be completely distorted by the author being a horrendous liberal who does in fact think that 'race' has some biological reality (while often not believing that they even hold this belief, lmao). when you start seeing arguments like this it's your cue to follow the footnotes and look at the data and archival material included in the book. and if there's none that's just bad methodology!

[seafoamreadings]

week of january 12th, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: quite probably you're not at your most energetic with mars in retrograde in cancer. a little opposition from the sun will help slightly this week. but overall it's best to embrace a restful period.

taurus: nurture your connection with friends and acquaintances, and make new ones if you can. it should be fun and not a chore, so make sure they're people you actually like. this is the backbone of a healthy social group, which we need as social beings, however introverted we are.

gemini: this gentle week has mercury making some light but pleasant aspects to outer planets, helping you do good for the wider world while also using the macrocosm as a form of your own microcosmic introspection. as above so below. watch for the patterns.

cancerians: use this week's broadly supportive astrology to strengthen yourself, developing whatever facets of your life have deficiencies to correct. this could be anything from romance to academics to your literal muscles, but get to it!

leo: don't let yourself be shamed for seeking attention. obviously, respect the boundaries of others, but also remember at all times that attention is a fundamental human need, which it is all our birthright to have fulfilled. in that spirit, generously attend to those who need you, too.

virgo: the key to any interpersonal issues is to follow what makes you happy. relationships that aren't doing so need to be rectified fast, or wrapped up and properly mourned. relationships that do, are to be pursued and nourished.

libra: always a graceful one, this week has you looking more poised than ever even if you don't feel it internally. this can have people flocking to you, trying to get some of that equilibrium in their own lives. provide what you can/want, but don't let anyone drain your energy.

scorpio: while this week's sun-mars opposition can feel draining for many, it probably reinvigorates you at least a little bit. the emotional vulnerability other people are a bit nervous about gives you life, really.

sagittarius: this is another period for you to focus on your home life and your roots. you might unearth a family secret, discover an interesting ancestor, or just make your house particularly comfortable and beautiful.

capricorn: this particular sun-mars opposition is an awkward feeling for you due to the signs these objects are in and the retrograde of mars ongoing. so, not comfortable, but most likely no real harm is done.

aquarius: there is about to be a significant amount of uranian energy but this week is the calm before the storm. with that said, it will feel like a storm to many but it's the brand of chaos you actually thrive in. so for now, batten down any hatches in need of it and go about your business quietly.

pisces: you may find yourself getting a lot of attention this week or just being overall quite busy. all in all this will be a series of good and rewarding things, although it may feel chaotic and hectic at the same time. you are something of a creature of the void, though, so in many ways, this is a flow you can go with.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

[rylem33]

Free Festival

Ashley trailed behind Rick, her older brother, through the front hallway of their house. His voice was casual but carried a hint of excitement.

“Come on, Ash. It’ll be fun,” Rick said, tossing his car keys into the air and catching them with a grin.

Ashley adjusted her glasses and frowned. “Define fun. Sweaty crowds, loud music, and overpriced drinks? Sounds amazing.”

Rick smirked. “You might surprise yourself. Besides, I got the tickets for free and dad said we both had to go. He thinks you need to ‘get out more.’”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Great. Another social experiment for Dad’s amusement.” She shifted the book in her arms, hugging it tighter. “I just… don’t get why you like these things so much. It’s not my style.”

Rick leaned against the doorframe, his grin softening into something kinder. “Look, just give it a chance, okay? You might have fun if you let yourself. Worst case, you’ll just have to put up with me for a few hours.”

Ashley gave him a skeptical look but sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The festival grounds were chaos. Neon lights blinked and strobed, flashing over crowds of people dressed in glitter, mesh, and barely-there outfits. Bass-heavy music thudded through the air, shaking the ground beneath Ashley’s feet.

She clutched her sweatshirt tightly, already feeling out of place in her sneakers and casual jeans. Around her, people were dancing wildly, laughing, and shouting to be heard over the music. She ducked as someone waved a glow stick a little too close to her head.

Rick, on the other hand, was in his element. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he turned to her. “Isn’t this great?”

“Not really,” Ashley muttered, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Rick rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, but you’ve got to try. Just… loosen up a little. Here, let’s get a drink. That’ll help.”

Ashley didn’t respond. Her gaze darted around the crowd, her unease growing by the second. The noise, the lights, the crush of bodies—it was all too much.

“I’ll be right back,” she said abruptly, already turning away.

Rick called after her. “Ashley, come on! Don’t be like that!”

But she was already weaving through the crowd, searching for the bathroom—or anywhere quieter.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ashley was halfway to the bathroom when she felt someone bump into her, a sharp elbow jabbing her arm.

“Hey!” Ashley said, turning in surprise.

The woman she’d run into didn’t look remotely apologetic. She had long, platinum blonde hair that gleamed in the neon lights, perfectly straight and framing her tanned face. Her glossy lips were curled into a smug smile, and her makeup was sharp and dramatic, with lashes so long they almost seemed fake.

She was dressed in a daring outfit that left little to the imagination. Her crop top barely covering her chest, and her black mini-skirt clinging to her hips. White knee-high boots completed the look, their towering heels making her seem even more intimidating.

Ashley immediately felt out of place in her casual clothes, but the woman’s piercing gaze made it worse.

The blonde scoffed, her painted nails brushing a lock of hair over her shoulder. “What are you even doing here, babe?” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “You look like you got lost on the way to the library.”

Ashley bristled. “Excuse me?”

Instead of replying, the woman reached into a small pouch hanging from her wrist and pulled out a handful of glitter. With a flick of her wrist, she threw it right at Ashley’s face.

Ashley coughed, sputtering as the glitter rained down on her hair and shoulders. “Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?”

The woman smirked, tilting her head. “Relax, nerd. You needed a makeover anyway.”

Ashley furiously brushed at the glitter, but it clung stubbornly to her sweatshirt and hair. “You can’t just throw glitter on people!”

The woman gave a dramatic shrug, her smile widening. “Consider it a favor. You were practically invisible before.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Now? At least someone might notice you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel, her long hair swishing behind her as she strutted off, her boots clicking against the pavement.

Ashley stood there, her face burning with embarrassment and frustration. She tugged at her sweatshirt, brushing at the glitter still clinging to her clothes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, stomping off toward the bathroom.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the cramped bathroom stall, Ashley glared at her reflection in the scratched mirror. Glitter clung to her cheeks, her hair, and even the frames of her glasses.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, brushing at the stubborn flecks. But as she leaned closer to the mirror, she froze.

Her reflection was… changing.

Her messy bun unraveled on its own, the strands lengthening and darkening as they spilled over her shoulders in sleek, glossy waves. Her lips, usually pale and chapped, softened and plumped, taking on a natural, glossy sheen.

“What the…?” she whispered, reaching up to adjust her glasses. But they slid down her nose and fell into her hands. Her fingers stopped midair.

They weren’t her hands.

Her nails were longer now, perfectly shaped and painted a shimmering pale pink. Her hands looked more delicate, her fingers longer, like they belonged to someone who had never held a textbook or chewed nervously at her nails.

Her breath caught as she looked down at her sweatshirt. The thick cotton fabric was rippling, shifting, almost melting under her fingers. It shimmered faintly, then began to dissolve, replaced by a soft, sheer material that clung to her arms and torso.

“No… no, no, no!” she gasped, grabbing at the morphing fabric. She tried to tug it back into its familiar shape, but it was already transforming, becoming transparent and glittery. Beneath the changing fabric, her body was shifting too.

Her chest tightened, then swelled, her breasts expanding fuller and higher. She stumbled back as a faint pressure built in her hips, a deep, popping sensation echoing through her pelvis. “Ow!” she yelped, gripping the sides of the stall as her hips widened and rounded, the bones seeming to shift under her skin.

Her jeans were next. She stared in horror as the denim frayed and unraveled, leaving her legs bare. Her skin smoothed and glowed with a soft sun-kissed hue as glittering sheer shorts materialized where her jeans had been.

Ashley clutched the sides of the stall, her breathing ragged. Her legs lengthened, her thighs rounding and her calves gaining a subtle, sculpted tone. Her feet arched painfully, her toes curling as though forced into invisible heels. A delicate pair of sandals formed on her feet, the straps glinting with tiny stones.

The changes weren’t just surface-level. She could feel her body altering, her bones and muscles shifting into something unfamiliar. Her shoulders pulled back, her spine straightening until her posture exuded a confidence she didn’t feel. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.

Her tank top, now a barely-there sheer fabric, clung to her torso, revealing every new curve. The neckline dipped lower than she ever would have dared to wear, showcasing her now-exposed breasts. A green scarf fluttered into place around her neck.

Ashley’s trembling hand rose to her face, her fingers brushing against the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips. Her lashes, now long and thick, framed shimmering eyes that stared back at her in wide-eyed panic.

“No… this isn’t real,” she whispered, her voice softer, higher, almost unrecognizable.

Her gaze darted to the mirror again, and she barely recognized the girl staring back at her. 

Her breathing grew shallow as her heart pounded. Her body felt alien, unfamiliar, like it wasn’t hers anymore. The press of the sheer fabric against her skin, the sway of her fuller hips, even the way her feet felt perched on the invisible heels. It was too much.

She stumbled back against the door, her knees weak.

“I—I can’t… I need to get out of here,” she stammered, shoving the door open.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Ashley pushed the bathroom door open, stepping back into the chaos of the festival. The music hit her like a wave, vibrating through her chest and making her pause. She glanced down at her outfit, if you could even call it that, and tugged at the transparent fabric clinging to her body.

It didn’t help.

The sheer top hugged her figure, leaving little to the imagination, and the glittering shorts barely covered her thighs. Her hands kept fidgeting with the scarf draped over her shoulders, trying to pull it across her chest.

Her cheeks flushed as she kept her head down, weaving aimlessly through the crowd. She could feel the bass thudding, reverberating through her body. 

As she walked, her body seemed to shift with the beat. Her shoulders rolled back, her spine straightened, and her hips swayed in time with the music. 

The bass thumped harder, and Ashley realized she didn’t hate it. The harsh, pounding beat that had grated on her earlier now seemed… hypnotic. It pulsed in her veins, syncing with her heartbeat, drawing her forward.

She looked up for the first time since leaving the bathroom and caught a glimpse of a group of guys watching her. She froze for a second, her instinct telling her to turn away. But their stares didn’t feel hostile or mocking. They were… interested.

Her stomach fluttered.

Ashley blinked, taking a hesitant step forward. Her movements felt looser, her body responding to the music in a way she didn’t fully understand. She glanced down at herself again. The fabric sparkled under the flashing lights, her legs catching the glow as the glitter on her skin shimmered with every step.

When she glanced back at the group, one of them gave her a crooked smile.

And this time, she smiled back.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

She wandered deeper into the festival where the crowd was thicker.  The music pulled at her mind and her feet found the rhythm almost on their own. Ashley’s hips started to sway, slow at first, barely noticeable, but the movement felt natural, effortless. She let her arms lift, her fingers tracing lazy patterns in the air as the beat guided her.

She didn’t realize people were watching her until she caught a glimpse of someone pointing her out to a friend, their smiles wide and approving. Her initial instinct was to shrink back, but the music drowned out the nervousness in her chest.

Instead, she leaned into it.

Her hips rolled with the beat as she took a step forward, her hair swaying around her shoulders. The glitter on her skin caught the lights, and she caught the eyes of another onlooker—a girl this time, her grin wide and encouraging as she danced nearby. Ashley gave a small laugh, the sound surprising even her, and kept moving.

The crowd around her seemed to shift, making space as she danced. She tossed her head back, her hair spilling behind her as her movements grew. 

The music took over, and she let it.

She found herself on the edge of a massive dance pit, surrounded by a sea of bodies moving as one.

The energy was magnetic, pulling her in before she could even think about stopping.

She stepped into the crowd, the beat coursing through her as she moved. Her arms swayed above her head, her body moved in time with the music as she became part of the pulse of the crowd.

Her hands seductively brushed over her hips as she spun in place. She could feel the eyes on her again, but this time, she welcomed them. She felt sexy.  She felt like she belonged.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Rick pushed his way through the crowd, craning his neck to look over the sea of people. The music thumped in his chest, and the swirling lights made it harder to focus. Ashley had been gone way too long, and his concern was starting to outweigh his irritation.

“Come on, Ash,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the festival grounds. “Where the hell are you?”

He had checked the food trucks, the bathrooms, even the quieter corners of the festival where she might’ve been hiding with her book. But she was nowhere to be found.

Rick sighed and turned toward the massive dance pit, reluctantly heading into the thick of the crowd. If she wasn’t hiding, maybe she had wandered closer to the stage—or worse, gotten lost.

As he moved deeper into the throng of dancers, his eyes caught on someone.

The girl was breathtaking.

Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, gleaming under the flashing lights, and her sheer outfit sparkled with every step. The fabric clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination, as she moved to the music.  

Rick stopped in his tracks, watching as the girl threw her head back, laughing as she twirled into the arms of a guy nearby. The guy’s hands hovered at her waist, hesitant, and she teased him with a grin before spinning away. She found her way into a group of girls next, linking arms with one of them and swaying in unison.

The crowd seemed to revolve around her, drawn to her energy.

“Damn,” Rick muttered, shaking his head. He didn’t even realize he’d stopped looking for Ashley.

The girl spun again, her hips rolling as she moved closer to the center of the pit. She laughed, brushing her hair back with one hand as another guy stepped in to dance with her. She let him, for a moment, before pulling away with a playful glance.

The girl’s eyes suddenly locked on his, her grin widening. She tilted her head, her hips swaying as she took a slow, deliberate step toward him.

Rick’s breath hitched. “Uh…”

“Rick!” she called, her voice carrying over the music, light and teasing.

Rick’s heart stopped. “What?”

She closed the distance between them with a few quick steps, stopping just a breath away. Her smile was radiant, her eyes shimmering with amusement.

“Don’t you recognize me, big brother?” she said, her voice dripping with playful condescension.

Rick’s jaw dropped. “Ashley?!”

Rick’s stared at her, his mind scrambling to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Ashley?!” he said again, louder this time, his voice tinged with disbelief.

She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she leaned in, her green scarf brushing against his arm. “Yes, Rick. Stop shouting, everyone’s staring.”

“Everyone’s staring because you’re…” He waved a hand at her, struggling for words. “What the hell happened to you?!”

Ashley smirked, rolling her eyes playfully. “Gee, thanks. Nice to see you too.” She reached out, giving his arm a light squeeze. “Relax, big bro. I’m fine. Actually, I’m better than fine.”

Rick blinked, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. Her hair, her skin, her clothes. It was all so… not Ashley. Just a couple of hours ago, she was sulking in her sweatshirt and sneakers, and now she looked like the star of a music video.

“You look…” He paused, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what to say. What happened while you were gone? Did someone… do something to you?” His voice dipped into concern as he glanced around, his protective instincts kicking in.

Ashley laughed again, the sound light and unbothered. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “No one did anything to me, Rick. I just…” She paused, her grin softening into something genuine. “I don’t know. I guess I finally decided to have some fun.”

Rick stared at her, still skeptical. “But…your hair, your clothes…”

“Okay, yeah, it’s a little different,” she admitted, shrugging as she twirled in place, her sheer outfit catching the light. “But come on, don’t I look great?”

Rick opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly at a loss.

“Don’t overthink it,” Ashley teased, grabbing his hand. “Come on! Dance with me!”

“Dance?” Rick said, blinking. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious,” she replied, pulling him toward the edge of the pit. “You dragged me here, remember? You said I needed to loosen up, and guess what? I did. Now it’s your turn.”

Rick hesitated, glancing around at the crowd. “I don’t know, Ash…”

Ashley rolled her eyes, tugging him harder. “Oh, stop being such a dad. You’re the one who told me to have fun! Now you’re acting all stiff.” She grinned, stepping closer and poking his chest. “What are you afraid of? That I’m having more fun than you?”

Rick snorted despite himself. “Okay, that’s not happening.”

“Prove it!” she challenged, spinning away from him and twirling back into the center of the dance pit. She beckoned him with a crooked finger, her grin mischievous.

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping into the pit after her.

Within minutes, they were both laughing and moving to the beat, Rick’s earlier confusion melting away. Ashley twirled around him, her energy contagious as she pulled him further into the rhythm of the music.

“See? This isn’t so bad!” she shouted over the bass, her grin wide.

Rick shook his head, still grinning. “I can’t believe this. You’re like a whole new person.”

Ashley leaned in, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe..but I like it.”

Rick raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. He couldn’t deny that she looked happy. Happier than he’d seen her in a long time.

They danced together, laughing and joking as the crowd around them swayed to the music. Ashley was effortlessly the center of attention, drawing glances and smiles from everyone nearby, but she didn’t seem to care.

As the song faded and another began, Rick leaned closer, still catching his breath. “So… how exactly are we going to explain this to Dad?”

Ashley threw her head back and laughed, the sound ringing out above the music. “Oh, we’re not explaining anything.”

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, he’s gonna lose it.”

“Let him,” Ashley replied with a smirk, brushing glitter off her arm. “He wanted me to loosen up, didn’t he?”

Rick grinned. “Well, mission accomplished.”

They both burst out laughing, their voices blending into the festival noise as the music thumped around them. 

[bereft-of-frogs]

Ahhh remember in June how I was like freaking out about applying for a promotion and I was like ‘maybe I’ll work on improving my writing instead’ and then I looked around and the only writing workshop I could find where I live was at 9AM on one of the islands so I’d have to catch a ferry at like 7:30 (crucially, again, on Saturday mornings I am not getting up that early) I was like I guess I’ll apply for that promotion…

Well as you all know I got the promotion and now it turns out they’re starting a writing workshop at a cafe like 10 minutes away from my apartment. 🫠 So now the new crisis is the sudden social anxiety/imposter syndrome about whether to RSVP or not. 🙃

Always gotta be freaking out about something

[voiice-of-the-soul]

It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.

His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.

He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.

[gomzdrawfr]

Bam bing bong, summary of my doodles in 2024

[dan-whoell]

i keep thinking about a phandom book club, but i have no idea how to go about organizing it or if anyone would be interested or even where to host it

alternatively is there already a phandom book club i could join? because i would love that

[king-crawler]

hey, even if you end up not doing some entries for the sake of the length of the video, could you post the full uncut version of the iceberg with all the entries?

Probably not, sorry :[ Do keep in mind I'm not cutting out any entries because of length (i love long iceberg videos), more so just keeping the ones that I personally think would make for an interesting topic / cool discussion, which will be like 99% of them anyways bc diving into fandom culture is fun ! If it helps I don't think I'll be deleting anything on the public iceberg, I think I'll probably just make a copy of it and use that one for my (hypothetical) video. I might also combine a few entries, idk yet we'll see! I hope that's not upsetting :') Again I still don't know if I'm making this thing but it seems fun in concept, I'll just have to find the time which might be a while... Regardless I do appreciate the entries that have showed up and how its filled up so fast ❤️ I genuinely can't believe how much stuff showed up that I'd never heard of before

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Thank god Sasha was confirmed bisexual, otherwise people would hc her as lesbian solely and exclusively because she's kind of a bitch.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

I do think Withers has a really subtle background character arc in bg3. Because at the start it is really clear he doesn't want to be here and he's being forced to clean up his mess by Helm and probably Ao. He doesn't really care either. Everything ends so nothing really matters, he'd like to go back to his paperwork now please.

Except he's stuck babysitting a bunch of traumatized dumbasses as they stumble into dealing with the most recent bad idea of his three fuck-up disappointments. So he brings them back when they die for a pittance, lets them pay for some vengeful ghosts to come back as flesh and blood to wreak bloody vengeance on the Absolute, and starts to... comment, on what's going on, as he follows them on their adventure.

Next thing you know Withers is like, doing things unprompted. He refuses to bring back Alfira (or Quil) but that's an act of compassion, keeping the poor girl from the Urge and letting her rest, his actual duty as a god of death. He tells Arabella to follow her destiny and does that thing to make her grief go away which honestly freaks me out but seems to be him trying to help her. He shows up at Moonrise and prompts us to consider why the Dead Three would want a bunch of soulless illithids that would give them no power, getting us to think of the big picture.

And by the end (especially if you do a resist!Durge playthrough) Withers is actively interfering and seems genuinely invested! He brings Durge back from the dead, free of their father! He encourages us before the final fight with the Netherbrain! He's real fucking smug that the Dead Three lost when he never seemed to care about the destruction they caused before! He throws a reunion party and many of his lines are genuinely touching or kind! Especially if a companion died permanently! He has tea with Gale's mom and Tara! He's like, socializing and shit! Yes, everything is temporary and we all die, but there's great beauty in fighting for that precious time and living it to the fullest!

Basically Wither's character arc is this meme, all because Helm made him go outside and touch grass.

[schizowitchic]

also like i partially found out i might be intersex because i was looking at trans stuff and there was like "(however many) months on t and finally seeing some bottom growth" and like pictures of t-dicks and i was like.... um.... that's kind of just what my clit looks like anyways. so i was like "hey google give me a quick rundown on this" and learned what clitoromegaly was and then i was like. hm. intersex resources. and it's like a sign? symptom? side-effect? of certain intersex conditions

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[inkats]

hanging out w ppl is great (I’m constantly nauseous)