#zoe if you see this i hope you know i still think you about in the worst way possible

[jailedmoonshine]

me when I choose not to interact with any media released by dan and phil in the last 5 years and completely missed the entire actively ongoing world tour currently centered around joking about the relationship dan and phil have with themselves and us as fans

me when I choose not to interact with any Dan and Phil content since they came out as gay and therefore have no idea what sort of in depths conversations they've had with their audience about the past and the way they've been treated

Best RPF Ship - Round 6 Match 1

[two-white-butterflies]

vienna waits for you

Description: A messy divorce with his college sweetheart sends Harvey catapulting into a bed of madness. He meets her years later, and the worst part is: they still love each other.

Pairing: harvey specter/singer!reader

A/N: i am obsessed with suits as of the moment, and i will be posting a lot about harvey specter regardless of his small fanbase. i have no idea if representing an ex-spouse is legal, but i saw jessica do it for her ex-husband so...by law of suits?

Harvey Specter does not have a positive outlook on love. His mom cheated on his dad, and subsequently his views on love were hinged on that heartbreak. Everyone around him knew that there was a great wall in the middle of Harvey and personal connections. He struggled to make friends - or in Donna's words, he is alone, has always been alone.

"What are you talking about?" Louis raised an eyebrow, a foot inside of Harvey's office. His eyes methodically darting back and forth between the two men. "Harvey was talking about his college sweetheart. She added him on Facebook." Mike lied.

Louis chuckles nervously, aware of Harvey's past.

It hasn't been that long ago, Harvey was still married to you during his early associate days. "She added you on Facebook?" Louis repeated the last words, his eyebrows were merged together. I don't mean to impose, but if Harvey's getting back with his ex-wife... Louis thought, and Harvey's jaw clenches.

He casts Mike a glance.

"If she added you on Facebook, then why didn't she add me?" Louis bites his bottom lips, Y/N likes me. I thought we were friends, Louis takes a deep breath. "Maybe it was a fake account, Louis." Harvey glares at him, his blue eyes piercing daggers deep into the other man's soul. Why couldn't have Mike thought of something clever-er?

There were three women that he could name at the top of his head, Scottie, Zoe, and that one waitress girl. "Oh, because for a second there I thought that..." Louis smiles bitterly. "Get out." Harvey rolls his eyes, mumbling something about closing the door on his way out. Louis quickly fades from view.

"What was that about?" Mike's eyebrows merged together. "None of your business," the older man replies curtly. Harvey didn't embrace the past with all of his heart. There were a million things that he could have done differently. He could be living a different life right now, had he made the right choice, but he didn't.

He has never experienced real love, but he was close, once.

"I get it," Mike sighs, aware that it wasn't smart to ask his 'mentor' personal questions. "I need those files by tomorrow." Harvey huffs, dismissing the associate. Way to ruin the day, Mike, Harvey thinks.

But it wasn't really Mike's fault.

(HARVEY SPECTER. 1ST YEAR AT HARVARD)

When you fall in love, everything happens in slow motion. As I'm watching this girl get off her motorcycle, everything happens in slow motion. She removes her helmet, and her hair is free - suddenly swaying with the strength of the wind, and when her face is free of her flowing hair - I see her face.

She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"Harvey Specter, right? I'm sorry for being late but I was the one that they tasked to tour you around the place. Courtesy of Jessica." She smiles at me, her helmet sitting snugly on her hip. "You don't have to," I found myself mumbling and she shakes her head.

"I insist." She smiles at me. I think I can hear a love song play in the background. Harvard of my dreams, woman of my dreams. "Harvey Specter," I introduce myself. She mumbles her name, and shakes my hand willingly. "I'm from the school of Arts. I hope that you'll be able to attend my song event next Tuesday. I'm inviting you." She says promptly, her tone reminding me of Jessica.

School of arts? Pfft, she must come from real money.

"Invite me? But we've only just met. Shouldn't you invite me to dinner before coaxing me into your bed?" I raise an eyebrow. She laughs at my joke, I don't even know if that joke was funny in the first place - but I know that it made her laugh. "It's a song, Mr. Specter. I'm not asking for your soul." Her eyebrows relaxed, and we walk inside the building - the warmth of the heater entering my body.

"- plus, I made a bet with this girl in class that I'll be able to get more guests than her." She winked as we entered our first classroom. "Give me a good reason, and I'll bring all of my friends." I chuckled.

(CURRENT DAY)

"It is always a pleasure to see you," Jessica smiles.

"I wish that I was here under different circumstances." You take a deep breath. These past few weeks have been a blur. "A million artists have been accused of plagiarism, but songwriting is a grey area. Pearson Hardman will fix this problem. I promise." She promises.

Jessica has never let you down.

"We'll have to prove to them that your song was written before they published theirs, which is easy because you keep all our song lyrics in a clear-book." Jessica remembers, versed in all the times that you rambled about your songs in her office, but a sigh escapes your mouth. "Proving that to them is the trickiest part." You confess.

"I lost my book. I don't know if I left it with Harvey - if it's stacked in between his bookshelves, or god knows where it is." A bitter chuckle escapes your mouth as you sink deeper into the seats.

"I could've gone to any B list law-firm if this was an easy battle but I'm willing to spend money on Pearson Hardman because I can't afford to lose." You articulated with a forced smile. Being accused of plagiarism was a stain on your reputation. Pearson Hardman needs to protect your honor.

"Jessica," Harvey's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. Suddenly, the office became smaller, and the twenty-feet distance between the both of you wasn't enough to contain your anger.

"Harvey will handle your case, he is our best lawyer." Jessica compliments. "No," you resist without apprehension. "- what I need from you isn't trivial. I really can't afford to lose." You breath. If this was Jessica's way of entertaining herself, then she needs to find another person to play with. "We should all be professional here," Harvey breaks his silence.

He sits down on the couch parallel you.

He has always kept to himself, even resisted from showing you the vulnerable parts of him in fear that you'd leave. In the end, you weren't the one that left - he was the one who filed for divorce.

How do you talk to an ex-husband without yelling profanities at each other? When the last time you saw each other was in the middle of a court room, unable to look each other in the eye. It would be better to leave things unsaid, but given the circumstance - given the fact that he was staring at you right in the eye - it was impossible.

"I am being sued for plagiarism. I know that you don't care about the truth, so I'll make this simple: losing is not an option." you emphasized, wording it in a way that would leave no questions.

Jessica hands him the files.

"I don't plan on losing," Harvey mumbles while skimming through the files. "- you were smart to come here."

3:00 P.M

The sight of him in his three-piece suit, his gelled hair, and his fresh cologne scent sent you reeling back into the past. How long has it been since you've seen his shadow? Even longer since you've last spoken without your lawyers acting as a medium.

Stars shine and burn, and your star crashed into extinction.

You continued staring at him as he read through your files (all magnificently compiled thanks to your years of proofreading his case files which did not happen if anyone from the D.A asks.) "How long are you going to stare at me?" He asks in a cold tone, it has been an hour since the both of you left Jessica's office. Opting to meet in his office instead, lest you fall asleep in Jessica's comfy fibers.

"You really are miserable without me," you spoke out loud. "What the hell are you talking about?" His eyebrows merged together. "You still don't know how to tie your necktie properly," your lips burrow into your lower lips, watching a fraction of a flaw in his tie.

To any untrained eye, his necktie was polished and flawless - but you know that when he does his necktie, his thumb is a little tight and the entire fabric is tighter around the middle. The back part of his necktie moves slightly to the right, but he fixes that by tucking it in.

"I'm sorry but some of us don't have the time to study little things," his tone comes out colder than he anticipated. There was a time where Harvey was just this little thing in between your palms - if the you refused to move to the mountains, then he moves the mountains to you, that was until the fallout.

"It is because of the little things that we live," you replied in your usual artsy way, one that sends a corporate man like him careening. "- I know that you hate me." You began but he interrupts you with a stare. "I don't hate you," his voice is gentler this time.

"Regardless, I hope that you understand how much this case means to me." You look at him with your puppy-eyes, begging for justice. "I graduated from Harvard, top of my class in a course that people don't take seriously. I make art, not just soulless marketable music, but art that actually has meaning, and to be accused of plagiarism offends me. It really does." You explained your side.

And it doesn't take a genius to realize that he believes you.

"I listened to your song," Harvey replies.

"I didn't see you listening to it." You mumbled.

"You went to the bathroom and I listened in the interim," he lies. He still has your vinyl albums on his vinyl shelf, but no one knows that. "The songs are similar." He pointed out. "Songs sound similar all the time," you snap but only because you know that you've never copied a damn thing in your entire life.

"You told Jessica that you wrote this song during our... do you have any proof of that?" He inquires, following his usual procedure of investigating his client. "No, but I wrote that song after our fight. If that means something." You chuckled bitterly.

(THE BEGINNING OF THE END)

The white blanket covered your body, providing warmth against the coldness of your shared apartment with Harvey. "Good morning, beautiful." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Good morning," you replied with a lazy smile, still taken aback by the beauty of his stare.

When you are thrown back into reality, that sinking feeling returns and permeates in the bottom of your chest. "This isn't going to make me forget about that thing with Cameron Dennis," you sharply reminded him.

"This is why I didn't tell you in the first place." He frowns, a bad start to the day. "- you were against me when I was in the grey. I am in the black now and I don't know what you want me to do." He argues.

It wasn't as easy as you narrated it, there were nuances to the problem. Cameron Dennis wasn't going to let him go that easily, when Harvey had the evidence to implicate him in a crime. He'd want to settle a score, and a man like Cameron Dennis was unpredictable, regardless of his moral code. "Leave," your answer was simple.

"- there is still a place for you with Jessica. But if you think that covering up for Cameron, this one time makes you exempt from all the other crimes that he's about to do in the future. You're wrong. Don't wait until it comes to bite you in the ass," you pleaded.

Greater than him have failed against corruption. You didn't want to see him become another clog in the machine, if he was in the black a foot inside of the room - then what shade would he be a year being inside of the room? "If your eyes are open, there's no reason to close them." You continued to persuade.

"It's not that easy." He repeats himself, and for a man of his stature - it really isn't easy. All he had to defend himself was you and Jessica. "I know that it isn't, but instead of involving yourself it would be better to leave before the tides become stronger." You advised, but judging by the look in his eyes - he wasn't listening to you.

5:00 PM

"Their estate replied, they're willing to settle on 40%." Harvey informed you, aware that it was the best deal that he could get out of this scenario. You didn't have a single evidence in your hands, none but your words and the stories attached to it. He believes you, but it would never uphold in court. "I want to settle on 0%." You insisted.

It is bold, but not even half of what Harvey settles on a daily basis. "They wanted 100 and I got it down to 40, unless you come up with an alibi or concrete evidence. I firmly advice you to accept their offer." Harvey tries to convince you, his tone mirroring yours all those years ago. "For Christ's sake," you mumbled - it was a losing game.

You couldn't let anyone take credit over your song.

This song means something to you.

It means something to your life.

"I hate you Harvey," you suddenly let out.

After all these years you still hold that divorce against him. It wasn't your fault in the first place, he allowed himself to be consumed by that corruption in Cameron Dennis' office. He blamed you for every little problem that he encountered, he pushed you away, told you that he never cared about you - even though that wasn't the truth. Not even close to the truth, because he was afraid.

Afraid that you'd cheat on him. Afraid that you'd leave him, he left first. So he'd be the winner.

"What is this really about?" He tried to keep his distance. "You can't even win this damn case." You insulted him, your words still able to cut through his thick walls. "- you defend capitalists. You're a clog in the machine, and you can't even defend an innocent woman." You were aware that your anger was misplaced, but he was the one standing in front of you - the object of your ire.

"You still can't let it go," his voice was a distant whisper. "- this world isn't a walk in the park. I told you that during the divorce, and I still mean it." He says the word 'divorce' with no reluctance, whereas he was avoiding that word a few hours ago. "You changed. I can't even recognize you," you chuckled mockingly. "What happened to the man who had a moral code?" You ask.

"You've been gone for a long time." He made an observation. "And we don't know each other that well. You were always away, building your career. Leaving me." He voices out his anger for the first time in decades. His jaw clenches again, but his eyes - oh you could tell from his eyes that he was heartbroken.

"So the divorce was my fault?" You queried.

"We barely spoke to each other. You didn't return my calls, you pushed me out, you made me think that there was someone else." He points a finger at you, raising his voice by an octave. "I was scared that if I answered you, then we'd fight. So I ignored you because ignoring you was better than losing you!" You yell.

The last years of your marriage was hell. Every little thing that unnerved you of each other was brought out, used in arguments - and the very swords that you promised to defend each other with, was used to stab each other in the back.

"You gave me the divorce papers, I told you that we could fix our marriage and you ignored me too. I'm not the villain that you're making me out to be, Harvey." You take a deep breath, regaining your composure and walking out of his office.

(A DAY AFTER THE DIVORCE PAPERS WERE GIVEN)

I take a deep breath.

In and out, like she always told me to do.

How long has it been since we've last spoken to each other? The only time that I was able to hear the sound of her voice was when the judge spoke to her and she requested for half of my properties. I should hate her for doing that but I don't.

"Harvey, I'm sorry for that plea with the judge. I don't know how to get your attention without suing you. We both made mistakes, but that isn't a good enough reason to let go. Let's fix us. I love you, and please call me back." The voicemail ends and I take the phone off my ear. I love you, three words that I have never said to her before.

I can see her sitting on the corner spot of the cafe - the cafe where we had our first date because the steakhouse that I booked mysteriously got shot down, and she insisted on having coffee for dinner. I can see her wearing the red dress that she wore on her song recital - the first time that I was able to hear her perfect voice.

I want to enter the room, but I can't.

I reach for my phone, dialing her familiar number.

It rings a few times, and I see her fish for her phone inside the bag.

"Hello?" I hear her voice on the other line. "Harvey, are you coming?" She asks, but I'm already here - without the courage to walk through the doors. "Harvey," she says my voice in a firm tone.

I open my mouth to speak but no voice comes out. I'm scared, and what if she'll leave me in the future? I should leave before she falls out of love with me, before she realizes that I'm not worth the sweat. "- for christ's sake. If you're here to laugh at me." Her voice becomes frustrated, and I see her stand up.

She hangs up.

"I love you too," but she was unable to hear me.

10:00pm

Harvey takes a swig of his beer, making his way to an apartment that he hasn't been in for a long time. This used to be your shared apartment with him, and he got ownership of it in the settlement. He opens the door with the keys in his pocket (keys that he's always kept in his pockets just in case he needed to return).

The apartment didn't smell like you anymore, it smelled like dust. The pristine white couch was now a muddied version of grey, and all the portraits you had together were covered with a thick layer of dust. He takes a deep breath, sitting down on the floor beside the vinyl shelf.

He took all of his vinyls and placed them in his office, but yours were still there. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Don McLean and Coldplay, your favorite artists - and he hasn't listened to them in a while. He doesn't understand how your marriage with him took a sharp turn - he valued your love, held it close to his heart, but in the end it slept away from his hands, carried on and never looked back.

He opens the dusty vinyl box and plugs in the song.

The song that you were being sued for, and the song that he has only listened to once because he couldn't bear listening to your voice.

Slow down you crazy child, you're so ambitious for a juvenile. But if you're so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid? Where's the fire what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out.

He opens one of the albums in the shelf. Elvis Presley's That's The Way It Is, which the both of you voted as the best Elvis album of all time, the soundtrack of your love story with him.

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through? When will you realize, Vienna waits for you.

The song continues playing in the background, and to his surprise a paper napkin was folded in the middle of the album, creating an indent that he hasn't noticed before. He reaches for the paper napkin, afraid that it would disintegrate with his touch. He unfolds it gently and to his surprise, the lyrics to the song that you were being sued for: Vienna, was written there.

To my husband, please remember that I'll be here waiting for you.

12:00 AM

He knocks on your apartment door, and you groggily open the door for him. "What the hell are you doing here?" Your eyebrows merged together, surprised by his sudden appearance. "I can win the case," he says with certainty - but already knew that. Harvey Specter is the best lawyer in NYC.

"You don't like losing. I get it." Your voice had hidden meaning.

Your eyes only softened once you realized that he was holding a laminated paper napkin in his right hand. "You found it," you take a deep breath, which probably also means that he was able to read the note that you wrote. "I went to our old apartment and it was-"

"In Elvis' album," you finished his sentence. "I didn't expect you to still have that apartment. I expected you to sell it the moment that it was given to you," it was your turn to make an observation.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." He made it very clear that he regretted the divorce, but should a relationship be founded on regret?

"It's in the past. We both have moved on." You partly lied.

"I was there in the cafe when you called me, and I wanted to talk to you but I was scared." He admitted, finally able to voice out his thoughts after all these years of keeping it in. "I was scared to tell you the truth because everyone who has loved me, has left me." He repeated, and suddenly a great weight was placed on your back.

"I think about you everyday," you confess.

Your hands in his necktie, pulling him closer towards your body. "What if we hurt each other worse?" It was your turn to voice your concern, eyes mirroring his - your fears were tangible. "Let's try again. I'd rather live knowing that we tried again, than live knowing that we could have but didn't." Harvey begs.

You answer him with a kiss to the lips.

A/N: will do a pt 2 fluff 🙏🏻 idk if people still watch suits but i love this show and i live breathe it.

[theartofcollapse]

omg yes thank you!!!

so could it be a casey novak x f reader? r had twin girls who are now 8- victoria and madison. Casey's been raising them with r since they were about 4 idk maybe a mama and mommy situation

(I don't like that one episode where the little girl with two moms calls her not biological mom "mommy zoe" idk just sounds funky😭)

just for dramas sake can u make it so Casey's been working svu for a couple weeks or more by now but all of them still have that attitude with her they had in her first episode, not really liking her compared to alex (I love me some drama😛)

BUT THEY DONT EVEN TRY TO GET TO KNOW HER OR ANYTHING ABOUT HER LE GASP😨

so imagine their surprise when one day somehow idk how they see two identical little girls with casey and some other lady mhm mhm drama drama👉🙂‍↕️ maybe they show up to the office or sum idk..?

(sorry if this is weird 😭 but if you can write it, bless your beautiful soul🥹🙏 which tbh I'd still say anyways bc I love your casey and alex fics🙏🙏🙏🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

(also u definitely probably don't care but I was thinking twins bc twins run in my family and ugh I wish I was a twin frfr😒😮‍💨 also i have THREE victorias in my family so the name follows me everywhere and I just like the name madison anyways 100% manifesting my future rn thanks for listening to my ted talk ok adios friend)

THANK YOU🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

a/n: thank you for requesting, babe, i hope it turned out how you imagined. summary: read it above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1K

masterlist

Picture Perfect - Casey Novak

Casey sat at her desk in the precinct’s bullpen, flipping through yet another file while the steady hum of chatter and ringing phones surrounded her. It had been a couple of weeks since she’d joined the Special Victims Unit as their ADA, and though she was professional to a fault, the distance between her and the detectives was palpable.

They hadn’t been outright rude, but they weren’t warm either. Casey could sense their lingering loyalty to Alex Cabot, the previous ADA, who had left massive shoes to fill. Even Olivia, who was typically approachable, seemed to be holding back. It was frustrating, but Casey was used to handling adversity. What mattered to her now was doing her job and doing it well.

Still, there were moments when the isolation stung more than she liked to admit. Especially since Casey’s life outside of work was so full and vibrant. She had you, her partner, and your twin daughters, Victoria and Madison, who had been her family for the past four years. The girls had been four when Casey entered their lives, and now, at eight, they didn’t just call her “Mama”, they meant it.

Casey glanced at the clock on her computer screen, a small smile creeping onto her lips. It was almost lunchtime, and she had made plans for you and the girls to meet her at the precinct. You had suggested surprising her, and Casey couldn’t wait to see the looks on Victoria and Madison’s faces when they saw the police station.

When the clock hit noon, Casey grabbed her coat and headed out of her office door, her mind already filled with thoughts of laughter and fun that awaited her. 

You arrived at the precinct with Victoria and Madison in tow, their small hands gripping yours as they stared wide-eyed at the towering building. Madison, ever the curious one, tilted her head back dramatically.

“Mommy, is this where Mama works?” she asked, her voice laced with awe.

“Yes, sweetheart,” you replied with a laugh. “And if we’re lucky, we’ll get to see her before she comes downstairs.”

Victoria tugged on your other hand. “Do you think Mama will let us see the cool detective stuff?”

“We’ll have to ask her,” you said, pushing the heavy precinct door open.

The squad room was buzzing with activity as you stepped inside. All eyes turned toward you as you entered, and a heavy silence fell over the room. Detectives Benson, Stabler, Tutuola, and Munch exchanged surprised glances. 

“Can I help you?” Olivia asked, stepping forward with her usual mix of authority and curiosity.

Before you could answer, a familiar voice rang out.

“Mommy, look! Mama!” Victoria shouted, her face lighting up as she spotted Casey emerging from the stairwell.

Casey’s expression softened immediately. She crouched down as both girls ran toward her, catching them in a warm embrace. “Hey, my girls!” she said, her voice full of love.

You followed behind, a warm smile on your face as you watched the reunion. Casey stood, holding Madison’s hand while Victoria clung to her side. She met your eyes, her own filled with affection. “Hey, you,” she greeted, leaning in to kiss you softly on the cheek.

The squad watched the entire interaction with stunned silence.

“Mama, can we eat now?” Madison asked, tugging at Casey’s sleeve. “I’m starving.”

Casey chuckled. “Yes, we can eat now. Come on, let’s find a cool restaurant.”

It was only when you were halfway out the door that Olivia found her voice.

“Wait a second. Casey?”

Casey stopped, turning back toward the squad. “Yes?”

Olivia gestured vaguely toward you and the twins. “Are you going to… introduce us?”

Casey glanced at you, her expression unreadable, and then back at the detectives. “This is Y/N, my partner. And these are our daughters, Victoria and Madison.”

“Mama, I told you I’m Madison Rose Y/L/N Novak,” Madison corrected, placing her hands on her hips.

Casey smirked. “My apologies, Madison Rose Y/L/N Novak.”

“Wait,” Fin interjected, his brow furrowed. “You have kids?”

“Yes,” Casey said simply, her tone making it clear that she didn’t see why this was such a surprise.

The detectives exchanged another round of glances, clearly trying to process this new information. Before anyone could say more, Casey turned back to you and guided you all toward the elevators.

Later that day, when the precinct had quieted down, Olivia found Casey sitting at her desk, reviewing a file. She hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Hey,” Olivia said softly.

Casey looked up, her expression guarded. “Detective Benson. What can I do for you?”

Olivia sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just… wanted to apologize if we’ve been unfair to you.”

Casey raised an eyebrow. “That’s not necessary.”

“No, it is,” Olivia insisted. “We’ve been holding you to Alex’s standard, and that’s not fair. We didn’t give you a chance, and I’m sorry.”

Casey’s features softened slightly, though she still seemed wary. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Olivia hesitated again, then asked, “Why didn’t you tell us about your family?”

Casey set down the file and leaned back in her chair. “Because it’s personal. And, frankly, I didn’t think you cared.”

Olivia winced. “That’s fair. But we do care. Or at least, we should.” She paused, then added, “Your girls are adorable, by the way. Madison seems like a handful.”

Casey’s lips quirked into a small smile. “She is. But I wouldn’t trade her or Victoria for anything.”

“Y/N seems great too, and she’s extremely gorgeous.” Olivia said. “You’ve got a good thing going.”

“I do,” Casey agreed, her voice softening. “They’re my world.”

For the first time since she joined the squad, Casey felt a sense of acceptance. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

And for now, that was enough.

[maskedcrawford]

Relaxation Technique

G-Dragon x Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff.

Summary: You relax with your boyfriend

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this, I once again put two requests in one bc it seemed to fit well, so I hope both of my lovely Anon's enjoy!<3

You show up at Jiyong’s door with snacks in hand. It takes him mere seconds to open it and he gives you a smile before pulling you inside.

“What’s up babe?” He takes the bag from you and you give each other a kiss. You let out a dramatic sigh.

“I need a break from reality. My brain is fried,” you admit. He gives you a big bear hug and you both make your way to the couch.

“You want to talk about it?” you smile as you grab a blanket and lay with him on the couch.

“Yeah, actually,” you snuggle up to your boyfriend as you begin to recount the drama to your friends.

“So, Zoe is dating Karlyee’s ex, right,” Jiyong nods listening intently,” mind you Karlyee and Trevor haven’t been together in over a year, but I swear she still has a thing for him.”

“So anyway, now Karlyee is saying Zoe never really cared about her or her feelings, even accused her of flirting with him while they were together.” Jiyong stays silent letting you vent.

“So long story short they want me to pick a side, which I refuse to do. To their faces at least.” This elicits a small chuckle from him.

“So do you have a side?” He quirks a brow.

“I agree with both of them to an extent. I mean, girl code, you don’t date your friends ex.” He nods as a movie plays in the background.

“But,” you take a brief pause, “It’s been over a year and it’s not like Karlyee didn’t know Zoe was interested in Trevor, they talked about it and she said she didn’t care if they dated.”

“So you think they’re both wrong and right?”

“Basically, I honestly just want to stay out of it. It makes my brain hurt,” you feign a headache for dramatic effect, causing him to breathe out a laugh. You both focus your attention on the movie, trying to forget about the petty drama.

-

“I’m getting hungry, you want something to eat,” Jiyong asks but he see’s your so relaxed you’ve ended up falling asleep against his chest. He smiles to himself as he kisses the top of your head. Part of him was happy you were relaxed, but he could sense the toll this was taking on you. You weren’t one for confrontation.

“Jagiya,” he whispers.

“Hmm,” you whine half asleep.

“I’m going to make us some dinner,” he chuckles.

“Ok,” you reluctantly sit up and let him off the couch. You pick up your phone to see a text from your friend Zoe.

She’s literally insane. I’ve done nothing wrong. She called me a whore and a boyfriend stealer and blocked me. WTF. You agree with me, don't you?

You sigh and run your hand through your hair. Then your phone vibrates again.

Zoe is literally horrible. I mean, come on, he’s my ex. How could she do this to me??? You're on my side, right?

You groan and dramatically flop the top half of your body against the couch.

“More drama?” Jiyong pokes his head into the living room.

“Yeah,” you say staring at the ceiling. He walks over and opens your phone.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t answer but you hear the sound of a sent text message. He hands your phone back to you

“What did,” you stare at the message that was sent to your friends.

Figure it out for yourselves and leave her out of it. Don’t make her choose when she isn’t part of the problem. It's stressing her. She'll be busy the rest of the night. – Jiyong

Your heart flutters a little as you smile at him.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you stand up and stretch.

“You want to stay over tonight?” he asks as you both walk into the kitchen.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” You yawn. You help him finish making dinner and you both eat. You notice Jiyong rushing a little and you know he never rushes through a meal unless he has some kind of idea.

“What cha got cooking up in that head of yours?” you ask suspiciously.

“You’ll see,” he smiles as he finishes.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in no time.” He grabs his keys and leaves the apartment. He’s back within minutes with a bag and a wine bottle. He strides into the bathroom locking the door and you tilt your head in confusion. You hear soft music begin to play and the water flow in the tub. You smile to yourself as you realize what he’s doing.

“Come on,” he beckons you to him once he comes out. You walk in and see a romantic looking bath complete with rose petals and candles. You gasp quietly as you feel his hands wrap around your waist.

“You like it,” he mumbles in your ear as he places a tender kiss to the side of your neck.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you breathe out as you hug his arms around you.

“I know, but my baby’s tense." He begins to help you undress and you step into the scalding water.

“Wait, are you going to join me?” He lifts a brow.

“I can if you want.” You nod enthusiastically. He undresses himself and slides in behind you, wrapping his arms around you holding you. The both of you are silent for a moment, just taking in the moment of intimacy he’s created for you.

As you play with his fingers you get an idea. Before he realizes what happening you’re kissing his tattoo on his finger. He watches you closely as you make your way to his arm feathering kisses until you get to his other tattoos. You trace a few with your tongue, looking up at him through your lashes and he’s watching you with pure concentration. You leave open mouth kisses up his arm and ghost your lips over his before kissing either side of the wings on his neck. He lets out a soft moan at the feeling and his hands kneed your thighs making you smile against his skin.

You giggle in response to him and continue your assault on his body, slowly and carefully kissing and licking over each tattoo with precision. Once you finish you wrap your arms around his neck and you rest your forehead against his.

“Thank you for this, for today,” you whisper. He kisses your nose.

“You don’t have to thank me; it’s my job to make sure you’re good. To take care of you,” he plants a meaningful kiss on your lips.

“Now, let’s finish what we started,” he smirks before feathering his own kisses down your neck.

If you enjoyed, consider buying me a coffee

Masterlist

[okaysonny]

make it like your birthday every day ╏ crystal choi

★ summary: crystal's birthday coincides with her time of grieving.

★ details: angst, no reader, the whole gang appears :p spoilers for 516!

★ wc: 1.1k

★ A/N: because i miss my diva okay? 🙄 hello fellow crystal enthusiasts :3

crystal is used to the silence.

her house, though grand and luxurious, is eerily quiet. it's always been empty in a way — filled with the kind of wealth that couldn’t replace love. but since her father's death, the quiet had grown unbearable.

i need space. she tells herself. to think. to process. to figure out what her life should look like without her father's shadow looming over it.

so when her phone lights up with a message, her first instinct is to ignore the pings like usual. however, the words make her pause.

(1) New Message - 2:43 PM Zack Lee EMERGENCY!!! MEET US AT THE CAFÉ ASAP! IT'S IMPORTANT!

her brows furrow. strange. she barely talks to zack. if he's texting her out of the blue, it must be urgent, right?

she finds herself getting up before she considers further. if she can be of help, she should. no matter how difficult it feels right now.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the café is bustling when she arrives, the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes filling the air. crystal hesitates at the door, scanning the room for any sign of zack...or daniel, she secretly hopes. her chubby body always draws attention - never the good kind. and today, she feels particularly self-conscious, not bothering to dress up or brush her hair properly.

jace is behind the counter, wiping a mug. his eyes widen slightly when he spots her, but he shoots a small smile as if he'd been expecting her, before resuming back to his task. strange indeed. she spots zack sitting at a big table nearby, waving frantically.

“finally!” he says as she slides into the seat across. “we’ve been waiting forever”

“we?” crystal glances around. it's just zack. “what’s this about?”

“just wait a second” zack says, grinning mischievously - like he's in on some big secret.

crystal narrows her eyes. “if this is some kind of prank—”

before she can finish, the door swings open. daniel, jay, vasco, zoe, mira, and even eli. crystal blinks in confusion as they approach, each of them holding something — balloons, a cake, even a clumsily wrapped gift. they all look so...different from the last time she'd seen them.

“surprise!” they all shout.

crystal freezes. “what?”

“it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” daniel says, sitting down. not quite the daniel she hoped to see, but still daniel nonetheless.

crystal blinks at the sight before her, her mind struggling to connect the dots. she didn't tell anyone. she’d assumed no one would remember, let alone go to this much trouble. for a moment, she's speechless. they stand around a small cake, candles flickering gently, the faint scent of vanilla wafting around them.

eli and vasco hold a banner spelling out "HAPPY BIRTHDAY CRYSTAL!" in uneven letters. maybe it's her imagination, but she swears she sees the slightest flush on eli's cheeks as he smiles gently at her.

"you guys did this...for me?" her voice is barely above a whisper. her gaze sweeps over the group, taking in their proud smiles.

"of course we did!" daniel grins from ear to ear.

crystal’s throat tightens. she's not used to this. people don’t usually go out of their way for her — at least, not without expecting something in return. and she certainly didn't expect it from them.

she takes a shaky breath, her fingers brushing the edge of the table as if to ground herself. "i…i don’t know what to say" she finally manages.

zoe chimes in, her eyes sparkling. "you don’t have to say anything! we just want to wish you happy birthday!"

“...happy birthday crystal” mira says softly, placing the cake in front of her.

crystal stares at it, a faint blush creeping up her face. she hadn’t blown out a birthday candle in years. it feels…childish. silly. but as she sees the faces of her friends — genuine and warm — it doesn't feel that way at all.

“...thank you everyone” she says, her own smile beginning to form.

“make a wish!” vasco exclaims, clapping his hands excitedly.

she hesitantly leans in, closing her eyes, before blowing out the candle. the group erupts into cheers, and for the first time in ages, crystal laughs. a real, unguarded laugh.

as they settle in together, sharing stories and cake, crystal feels the weight on her chest begin to lift. she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed this —missed them.

towards the end of the celebration, as they begin cleaning up, daniel leans over to her. “we want to remind you” he says softly, “that you’re not alone crystal. we’re here for you”

she doesn't respond right away, the words settling in deep. he didn't even mention her father. no "we're sorry for your loss" or anything. just those kind words.

“thanks daniel” she says quietly.

as crystal walks home, the gift bag dangles from her fingers, a tangible reminder of today's events. her heart feels lighter, though confusion still lingers at the edges.

she didn’t confide in anyone about her grief. it's not like she doesn't trust them. she just doesn't know how. she never felt particularly close to them, or to anyone, really. relationships had always felt…conditional, built on utility or convenience. that's the world she grew up in.

and yet, they had gone through all this trouble for her. for her birthday. a day she hadn’t even thought worth celebrating.

she frowns, her grip tightening slightly on the bag. why? what did she do to deserve this kind of effort? she hadn’t been much of a friend lately. she pushed them away, didn't respond to messages, and holed herself up at home. she didn’t ask for their help. she didn’t expect it. and still, they’d shown up.

none of them can possibly comprehend the life she lives — the weight of being charles choi’s daughter, the expectations, the secrets, the overwhelming sense of isolation.

...and her two bodies. something she can never confess. how can anyone understand what it feels like to live two lives in one?

her gaze falls to the pavement, her steps slowing.

but then, maybe they don't need to understand.

maybe it doesn't matter if they can’t grasp the complexities of her life, or the bizarre, otherworldly reality of her two forms. because today, none of that matters. they had been there, not because they know her struggles, but because they care. they had shown up with balloons and cake and awkward, heartfelt words, and it had been enough to soothe the ache in her chest.

her lips curl into a small, reluctant smile.

maybe their kindness doesn’t have to be earned. maybe it doesn't have to come from a place of understanding. maybe it's enough for it to be freely given.

crystal glances up at the darkening sky.

for the first time in a long while, the silence doesn't feel so suffocating.

A/N: i will never forgive ptj for sidelining crystal like this. her new appearances better be GOOD.

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: The Art of Letting Go

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Only know you love her when (she lets you) go

(In which a still very sadistic writer make things a lot worse but only so they can get a little bit better)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt with very little comfort

Words: 7.9K

TW: Car Accidents, Panic Attacks, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I know I'm very, very late with this and I love you all for being so patient. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but it is what it is. Logistical details are probably a little off but I need things to work for the plot, so try and ignore that. Per usual I did edit (very loosely and I'll probably go back over it later), there are probably typos anyways. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading lovelies and let's get a W this weekend. <3

December 2023

A week or so after they get back from the Cayman Islands, Azzi feels like she’s been sleep-walking through life, everything around her hazy and dull. She religiously sticks to a routine of eat-study-practice-sleep. Except well, sleep isn’t really sleeping. It’s her brain conjuring images of blonde hair and blue eyes and Azzi forcing herself to wake-up from a nightmare that used to be her favourite dream. 

She doesn’t tell anyone what happened, lying to herself it’s because it would be embarrassing and not because it would mean having to face the truth. Still, it doesn’t mean that her teammates can’t piece together little bits. There must be something quite sinister about the air around her, because none of her normally nosy and eager-to-help sisters try to weasel any information out of Azzi. They act like they always have, only sharing worried looks behind her back when the façade of i’m doing fine slips momentarily when she thinks no one’s watching. 

And then that façade goes to hell over the span of a couple of hours. 

It starts with the inevitable breakup with Zoe. At first Azzi avoids it, making up excuses as to why she can’t see her girlfriend. Selfishly, there’s a part of her that wants to keep Zoe, keep a girl who would never leave, never make her feel anything less than (or more than) just content. But it’s not fair, Azzi knows that, and it’s why she practises her it’s not you, it’s me speech to perfection in front of the mirror. When she goes to message Zoe that she's coming over, the text chain causes a pinch of guilt in her heart at the contrast between her girlfriend’s hopeful tone versus her own nonchalant one. And Azzi thinks that Zoe will never really understand just how similar the two of them are, stuck at wanting someone who would always let them down. Only, Azzi will let Zoe free but when it comes to her herself, she’s pretty sure she’s destined to be trapped forever. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that Azzi remembers the apartment in Storrs that she’d visited barely a handful of times a lot more than she remembers the apartment she’s currently in, the one that belongs to her girlfriend. Zoe sits rigidly on the couch with the same reserved, guarded expression she’s had since she’d opened the door, clearly aware of what was about to happen. Her foot taps incessantly as the silence between them drags on.

“You deserve better,” Azzi says finally, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor. 

“No,” Zoe’s voice is cold, “don’t say shit like that. It’s a cop out. It’s the shit people say to make themselves feel better-”

“Zoe-”

“Don’t be a fucking coward Azzi. Look me in the eye and say it, say exactly what you’re here to.”

Azzi doesn’t want to do any of that. She wants to crumble to the ground and let it swallow her until she’s buried so far away from the mess she’s created. But she owes Zoe this. When she does look at Zoe, there’s this look in the other girl’s eyes that Azzi had never thought herself capable of evoking in anyone and she has to swallow away the bile that rises in her throat, disgusted by her own self. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Azzi whispers. Her words linger in the air, like shrapnel after an explosion. Zoe flinches, a single tear trickling down her face. 

“There it is,” the Californian says quietly, the ghost of an ironic smile playing on her lips, “I knew it was coming but damn- there it is.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what-” Zoe cuts herself, “no actually don’t- don’t answer that. I think I know.”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, ready to confess, “I need to tell-”

“Please-”

“Z-”

“Please,” Zoe sobs, “please don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear it okay? I don’t- I don’t want to hate you Azzi. It’s too much and I don’t- I just- I’m so tired of feeling so much for you when you don’t- when you feel so little for me.”

“That’s not true,” Azzi counters helplessly, her words ringing hollow to her own ears. 

“Fucking hell you just ended it Azzi, you don’t have to pretend anymore. And it’s okay because I get it. You can’t feel any more than what little you do for me because- because you’ve already given the rest of it away. And it’s not- it’s not like I didn’t know you know? I only ever met you because you were crying over her. You only let me into your life because you missed her. And now you have her,” Zoe says wistfully. 

It’s terrible the way everything else becomes white noise as Azzi’s ear latches on the last sentence, a sentence that couldn’t be any further away from the truth. She was prepared for the accusations, for Zoe to hurl every curse word in the book at her, but this, the unintended reminder that she was giving up on soft, sweet, gentle Zoe for something that she didn’t have, hurts far more than any words could. 

“This isn’t about-” 

Zoe’s quick to cut Azzi off, pushing herself off the couch they had been sharing, trying to put even more space in between them, “please do not insult my intelligence by finishing that sentence. I deserve that much at least.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are because I know- I know who you are Azzi and I know you’re a good person and that’s why- that’s why I don’t wanna know okay? Whatever you did- whatever happened- just let me- just let me have this. Let me remember you as someone good- someone great,” Zoe pleads.

“If that’s what you want Zo,” Azzi answers weakly, the guilty clawing at her heart. She doesn’t think she deserves to be remembered like that, doesn’t think she’s worthy of being thought of with fondness, not anymore. 

Zoe doesn’t make any acknowledgement of Azzi having spoken as she starts to pace, “I should have known. You know the day I met her this summer, I got it- the appeal- I got it immediately. She has this aura, this charm. She just- she just fucking glows you know? And she’s just- she’s this huge entity and so are you and I’m just,” she lets out a hollow laugh as she shrugs,  “I’m just a girl from Stockton, California.”

“And you’re amazing,” Azzi puts up a hand when Zoe tries to cut her off again, “you are. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you did for me last year. You could have walked away that day and maybe- maybe one day you’ll think you should have. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Zoe. You do deserve better. It’s not a cop out. It’s the truth.”

Since she was younger, Azzi’s always hated endings. This time is no different. The bitter truth is that she probably won’t miss her girlfriend, but she will miss the friend that had gotten her through one of the toughest years of her life. Slowly, Azzi picks herself off of the couch and walks over to a still Zoe, squeezing her left hand once before heading towards the door. 

“Azzi,” Zoe calls out, just as Azzi has one foot out the door, “I hope it works out for the two of you. You and Paige always did just seem inevitable.”

***

She blames the fact she’s currently stuck in the terrible LA traffic, with the word inevitable ringing in her ears, for the way her fingers continuously flicker over the green call button under Paige’s name. Zoe saying her name had been the first time in a week that Azzi had even let herself, in consciousness at least, think of the blonde properly. And now that it had been unleashed, whispers of Paige, Paige, Paige echo through every crevice of skull. The pain and anger that she’d been trying to shield herself from, come barraging into her heart as she’s held captive once again by thoughts of her best friend. 

It would be a lie to say that Azzi hadn’t been hoping for a call or a text to come through. She’d waited two days with bated breath for a friendly quip that would lead them back to their safe haven of just pretend. Instead it was as if they were back to being who they had been before summer of 2022 all over again. Back to being nothing. But this time Azzi had been adamant that if Paige was going to cut her off again, she wouldn’t fight it, not this time. Apparently that resolve was never meant to last and Azzi feels a little pathetic with how desperately she needs to hear Paige’s voice, how desperately she wants to try again. 

The traffic clears just as she presses call and maybe that should have been a sign. Azzi’s not a bad driver per say, but as her dad always said, no one’s a good driver when they’re distracted. The phone rings for too long and she should take that as her next sign and accept it as Paige not wanting to talk, but she lets it continue to ring anyway, as she turns onto a more secluded road. And then-

“Hello,” the voice is unfamiliar and Azzi doesn’t really know Paige’s teammates, beyond Caroline, that well but she’s pretty certain this one doesn’t belong to any of them. 

“Hi uh- who is this?” she manages to get out as her grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Oh um- this is Rose, Paige’s friend” comes the reply, the word friend said with a sultry lilt and Azzi feels her skin prickle. Hang up. 

“Why are you answering Paige’s phone?” her tone is far more accusatory than she’d like it to be. 

“She’s in the bathroom but she told me to,” Rose answers defensively. 

Azzi hesitates, she doesn’t need to know more except, “does she know who called?”

Because surely if she did, if Paige knew it was Azzi on the other line, she wouldn’t let one of her likely random hookups answer the phone, surely Paige would know what it would do, how it would make her feel. 

“Uh yeah- I told her Azzi called and she seemed pretty sure she wanted me to pick up.”

Maybe Paige does know what it would do, does know how it would make Azzi feel, maybe that’s the whole fucking point. Through the phone she can hear quiet footsteps walking closer, towards Rose. When Paige is close enough that Azzi can make out the sound of her breathing, can almost picture the way her chest is heaving, that’s when the tears finally fall, blurring her vision. 

She doesn’t see the blinking headlights rushing towards her until it’s too late and then she’s swerving. The world around her erupts in motion and light and noise, everything spinning and spinning and spinning. For one moment, as she loses complete control of her car, Azzi thinks maybe this is it. And the most terrifying part of it, is that for a second, she’s not all that opposed to the idea of this being the end. It’s a singular image of her parents in her brain that has her regaining her senses and hitting the brakes as hard as she can. Her tires screech as her car barrels into a tree and her entire body jerks around in her car, her seatbelt leaving burn scars against her neck. Azzi feels her heartbeat going haywire, as everything comes to a halt. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Rose’s panicked voice echoes. 

“What?” and there’s Paige and even in this wreckage, Azzi’s heart stutters at the sound of her best friend. 

“I think she crashed-”

“WHAT?” there’s frantic shuffling until, “Azzi? Azzi? Hello? Are you there? Fuck. Azzi are you okay? Please say something. C’mon Az. I know you’re there. Can you hear me? Please be okay. Azzi? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Azzi?”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth, trying to answer to the call of her name, but nothing comes out. She feels hot and cold all over at the same and she swears there’s a hand curled around her neck because she can’t fucking breathe. 

“Azzi,” Paige says again desperately, “please say something.”

“P-Paige,” Azzi finally manages to stutter, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. There’s blood rushing to her ears and everything around her feels hazy. 

“Azzi,” and that one syllable is wrapped in so much emotion, “I’m here okay, are you okay?”

No, Azzi thinks, I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. 

“I c-can’t breathe. I think” she grasps at her neck, “I th-think I’m having a panic attack.”

Paige curses under her breath, “okay, okay alright listen to me breathe okay? And try to match it okay?”

“O-okay,” Azzi whispers, pressing her head to her steering wheel as she tries to mimic Paige’s exaggerated deep breaths on the other end of the line. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me Azzi, just keep breathing okay,” Paige’s voice is far calmer than she probably is in reality, “just keep breathing with me okay.”

Azzi closes her eyes as she feels her chest slowly start to loosen up and lets herself be immersed by Paige’s soothing words of comfort. And for a second, it almost feels as if her best friend is right there with her. For a second, Azzi imagines that they’re on a whole other planet, just them in their little world, like it always should have been, like she’d once been so sure it would be. It’s a beautiful dream that reality is quick to gatecrash. 

“Babe, is she okay?” Rose asks, and Azzi’s eyes fly open at the term of endearment. She’s not on a different planet. She’s alone. And Paige isn’t. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi breathes out and then more firmly, “I’m fine.”

“Thank God,” Paige lets out a sigh of relief before her tone turns sour “what the actual fuck Azzi?”

Azzi winces at the loudness, pretty sure she might have a concussion from the way her head had crashed back into her headrest as she’d crashed into the tree in front of her. 

“I’m fine,” she repeats assertedly, as everything around her slowly starts to make sense again. It’s not a lie really, at least not physically. There’s the potential concussion, and the litany of bruises she’s starting to feel all over her body but she’s pretty sure there’s nothing wrong internally. Well except for her stupid fucking heart but it wasn’t the accident that had fucked that organ up. 

“You just crashed your fucking car, no you’re not fucking fine,” Paige yells, voice thick with tears. 

“What the fuck do you care?” Azzi bites back, “sorry I interrupted your fucking night Paige. I swear it won’t happen again.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything else, sitting deathly still for a second. And then she lets herself completely break apart. 

***

74 missed calls from Paige

did u go to the hospital 

pick up ur fucking phone 

dude

azzi

this is not the time for this stubborn bullshit 

PICK UP UR FUCKING PHONE 

AZZI 

just say ur ok at least

please 

called ur mom 

said u had a concussion and some bruising 

thats not too bad 

ur so fucking stupid 

it could be so much worse 

please pick up 

AZZI FUCKING FUDD PICK UP UR PHONE 

so u can call carol and not me ok 

thats just fucking perfect

dude i feel like an accident > stupid fights 

so maybe just pick up 

or call me back

u wanna play this stupid game fine 

ignore me for now

but i’mma be in dc for christmas

ur gonna have to talk to me 

i know where u live 

***

The box in Azzi’s arm feels freakishly heavy, like she’s holding the whole world inside of it. In a way, maybe she is. The walk up Paige’s dad’s driveway feels longer than it ever has and she’s fighting the urge to turn back with every step. As soon as she’d seen the vaguely threatening text message, Azzi had decided she would beat Paige to it. The night of the accident had put several things into perspective and Azzi was determined to finally grasp control of her own life. 

It hasn’t been that long since the Cayman Island and so it hasn’t been that long since Azzi’s seen Paige. But when the door opens and she’s face to face with her best friend, despite the dread and anxiety that’s drowning her heart, Azzi still feels that beat of it’s cold but you always make me feel warm flutter in her chest. Paige smiles and Azzi’s arms wobble, drawing the blonde’s attention to the box in her arms. 

“Still a couple of days till Christmas Az, a little early to give me my present,” Paige smirks lightly and Azzi feels a river of hot anger slide around her veins. After everything she’d put her through in the last couple of weeks, the fact that Paige could act so frivolous, as if they were still fine, makes Azzi see red. 

Her voice is icier than the sheet of frost on the ground when she replies, “it’s not a Christmas present.”

Paige’s eyebrows knit together questioningly, “then-”

“It’s all your stuff I had lying around,” Azzi cuts in, trying to keep her voice confident and stable. 

The smile disappears from Paige’s face as she studies Azzi's face, looking for some semblance of emotion beyond the blank stare. 

“What?”

“All the things you’ve left at my house over the years, a couple of t-shirts, a hat, a book and a couple other things, they’re in this box,” Azzi says pointedly. She tries to hand it over but Paige is quick to move away from it, staring at the offending object as if it’s a ticking time bomb. 

“What the actual fuck is going on Azzi?”

“I might have missed some things. Let me know if I have and I’ll mail them to you in the future,” Azzi recites clinically, keeping her demeanour stoic as possible “and of course I would like my things back as well. Not right now of course. You can mail them to me whenever it suits you.”

“Mail back your things? What? What the fuck are you going on about?” Paige asks, a bewildered expression taking on her face. She reaches out as if she wants to shake Azzi but seems to think better of it. 

Azzi doesn’t say anything, as she sidesteps Paige into the house, putting in the utmost effort to make sure no part of herself brushes up against the older girl, knowing the inevitable burst of electricity when they touch would be enough to break her resolve. She places the box of Paige’s stuff on the coffee table in the living room, before turning back to Paige. 

“I’m giving you your stuff back,” Azzi repeats, “I’m giving you what you want.”

“What I want? When did I ask for my stuff back?”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, fighting desperately against the screams of you don’t want this in her own head, “I’m giving you a clean break Paige. I’m letting you go.”

Saying those words feels a lot like free-falling. Her stomach lurches at the way Paige’s features scrunch up in pain and she’d never meant to do that, but Azzi’s so tired. She’s so tired of this push and pull, the way they seem to hurt each other every fucking time, the way things get so close to going right and then go wrong any way. The bitter truth of life, Azzi has forced herself to admit, is that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight, sometimes the darkness wins out anyway. 

“You think-,” Paige stutters, clutching at her chest, “you think this is what I want?”

“Well isn’t it?” 

“Of course n-”

“If I hadn’t called you that night would you have called me first Paige?  If I hadn’t gotten into that stupid accident, would you even have texted me ever again?”

Paige’s silence is an answer in itself . And although Azzi had known it, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that had posed the question hoping against hope that Paige would have answered it with a resounding yes of course. She thinks maybe she should be used to the singe of disappointment that burns her skin by now but she’s never been immune to Paige’s fire. 

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi says quietly, “I’m tired of running after you Paige. I thought I was done after the Cayman Islands but then I- I don’t know- I don’t know why I called you that night when you- you clearly didn’t want that.”

“Azzi c’mon-”

“It’s my fault really. Because you've always been clear about it and I- for some reason- I just don’t listen. You were clear with it when you told me to go to UCLA and get out of your life. You were clear when you didn’t want me to come into your air BnB. You were clear when you told me to get out of the bathroom last summer. And when you left that night-,” Azzi pauses as Paige’s eyes widen, the words catching in her throat, “when you were gone that morning- every time you didn’t call- every time you didn’t text- you were always clear about it Paige and I- I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“You’re being really fucking unfair right now,” Paige accuses, “you’re mad because I didn’t want to be your fucking side whore? I’m so sorry I had more self-respect than that Azzi.”

Azzi blinks rapidly, her face still completely neutral, “excuse me?”

“You wanna blame me for those first two things, fine. But you have a whole ass girlfriend and you wanted me to be what? Just a girl you can fuck occasionally because you feel like it? Who the fuck do you think I am? I deserve so much better than that.”

“I don’t-”

“You wanna know why I left that morning?” Paige asks icily, “I woke up and the first thing I saw is your girlfriend’s fucking i miss you text. All that shit you said to me when I kissed you in LA about not wanting to be one of my groupies or whatever but what did you want me to be Azzi?”

When they were young and naive, the largest fight they’d ever had was about whether or not one of them had cheated in a game of horse. The allegations of cheater from a 15 year old Paige had seemed massive back then, but they pale in front of the accusations of cheater from a 22 year old Paige. It’s not that Azzi thinks she’s some prime example of a good samaritan and she can deal with people thinking she’s not all that, but it’s different when it’s Paige, it’s different to know that Paige could ever think so low of her. 

“You really think I’d do that you? That I’d make you my sidepiece or whatever?”

“What else am I supposed to think about you fucking me while you have a girlfriend?” Paige asks exasperatedly and Azzi flinches at the repeated use of the profanity. 

“Had.”

“What?”

Azzi grips the hem of her shirt, trying to focus her eyes anywhere but Paige, “I had a girlfriend. Past tense.”

“You- you broke up with Zoe?” Paige’s expression morphs from anger to confusion before finally settling on realisation. 

“I never wanted you to be a side piece. You think I don’t know you deserve better than that?” Azzi rubs her temple, as she tries to keep herself steady on her feet, “I know seeing that text hurt you but it’s not like you didn’t know I had a girlfriend. But- but if you’d just waited for me to wake up, god if you’d just talked to me once instead of jumping to conclusions then-”

“Then what?” Paige breathes out and Azzi doesn’t miss the little spurt of hope that’s taken birth on the older girl's face. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Azzi shakes her head, “that’s also past tense now.”

The thing with Paige is that anger is her protective mechanism. When she gets a little close to losing control of her emotions, or feeling too much, it’s what she falls back on so it’s not surprising that her tone is harsh when she speaks again. 

“How the fuck was I supposed to guess you were gonna break up with your girlfriend Az c’mon,” Paige takes a step towards her, “I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

“I never asked you to read my mind. I just- all I’ve ever wanted- is for you to just have a little faith in me- in us,” Azzi’s voice breaks on the last word. 

“That’s not fair. I was really fucking  hurt Azzi-” Paige begins, her voice pleading.

“And then you tried to hurt me back on purpose,” Azzi spits out as the façade of neutrality completely slips off, “you knew it was me calling and you had that girl pick up any way knowing exactly how it would make me feel.”

“Azzi,” baby blue eyes sparkle with tears and Azzi has to force herself to look away, because no matter how much she’s convinced that this is what needs to happen, seeing Paige break, will drown Azzi and she’s barely floating as it is. 

“I don’t enjoy hurting you Paige,” Azzi says softly, “and I don’t think you enjoy hurting me but for the last couple of years, I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing and I- I can’t do it anymore.”

It’s not something she’d ever admitted out loud, or even to herself, but once upon a time Azzi used to think her and Paige would have one of those stories, one of those soft, sappy fairytale-esque stories that had no chance of an ending that wasn’t happily ever after. And she hopes that maybe in another universe, maybe they did have that. Maybe in a universe where she chose UConn and things never went wrong in the first place. Maybe in that universe, they’re happy. But in this universe, they seem to be destined for misery. And Azzi thinks the saddest tragedy of it all, is that it feels like she’s ending a story that never even really got the chance to start. 

“So that’s it then, you’re walking away- you’re just- you’re fucking giving up?” Paige says bitterly, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and Azzi feels a flicker of annoyance light up against her ribcage. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” she accuses, “Is that not what you do? You walk away every. single. time. because you can’t deal with things getting just a little too fucking hard. And what? I’m just supposed to wait until you come back? Or chase after you like a pathetic little puppy?”

Paige flinches at the hardness in Azzi’s tone, mouth opening and closing but nothing escaping. 

“I’m so fucking tired of always being the one calling, the one showing up, the one trying. I’m so fucking tired of fighting for us when it feels like you’re fighting against me,” Azzi pauses,trying to blink away the tears she’d tried so hard to keep locked behind her eyelids, “if you wanna call that me giving up then okay, but I don’t think you realize just how fucking hard I want to hold on.”

Azzi’s not sure if it’s the way her voice cracks, or the absolute misery behind every word she says, but Paige's hard and cold expression is gone so fast it gives her whiplash. And then her Paige, the girl with the warm eyes and soft heart is back, looking at Azzi in a way that makes her want to believe in them all over again. Arms outstretched, Paige takes a step forwards and there’s nothing more Azzi wants then melt into them. It takes everything in her to step away instead. For a moment there’s nothing but them staring at each other in silence, a moment where Azzi tries to memorise everything about Paige just in case this is the last time. And then-

“What if,” Paige begins softly, “what if I entered the draft?”

Azzi looks at her in confusion, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“The Sparks have the second pick, it’s where I’m projected to go,” Paige bites at her lips, peering at Azzi through her eyelashes. 

The Sparks. The Los Angeles Sparks. 

“Is that what you want?” Azzi asks quietly, trying to prevent her brain from already coming up with dreams of stupid picnic dates at the park during sunset. 

Paige hesitates. And it’s enough for those dreams to crumble, because Azzi knows Paige just a little too well, knows exactly what that little bit of hesitation means. 

“I haven’t decided yet but if- if there was a reason that I should-”

“There isn’t,” Azzi says firmly, “it’s not what you want.”

“I don’t even fucking know what I want,” Paige argues and that doesn’t make it any better. 

“Then figure it out,” Azzi yells, frustratedly rubbing her hands over her face, “I won’t deal with you fucking resenting me and running away again in a couple of years- hell in a couple of months- because you regret your fucking decision.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Please just stop. It's done. I’ve made up my mind” Azzi begs, exhaustion flooding into her body, “just- just let this go please.”

Paige meets her eyes with a stubborn fire, “I don’t fucking want to.”

“Well tough luck because I do.”

“Azzi,” Paige pleads desperately, trying to block Azzi as she beelines for the door, but the younger girl is quick to push past her. 

“Goodbye Paige.”

***

December 2024 

azzi please just let me in 

ur parent are saying u dont wanna see me 

and i get it 

but i can fix this i swear 

i know u know im here

please fucking let me in 

i fucked up 

i know 

im so fucking sorry

but dude we can fix this

just 

can u just fucking let me in

i really wanna see u 

i really wanna talk 

can we just fucking talk 

please 

merry christmas az

u know what fuck u actually 

didnt mean that sorry 

i was just mad 

u make me really fucking mad 

christmas breaks almost over 

i have to go back soon and ik u do too

we should talk before that 

ur so fucking stubborn 

but so am i

im not giving up 

i won’t 

January 2024

hi 

i miss you

ur really fucking annoying

not texting me back

but its fine

i’ll just fucking spam 

i had an ok day today 

practice was kinda ass 

not me tho

i was great

as always 

bet i made more threes than you did 

bro im watching ur game

and

what the fuck kinda airball did u just throw up 

get in the gym az jfc 

oh that was a good pullup

not better than mine

but decent 

been a fucking month azzi 

just fucking call me back 

or text me idk 

i miss u 

sooooooooooo

hows ur day

good? good.

hows mine?

oh kinda shit 

lets see

we lost in front of all these uconn legends

to their fucking rival 

everyones saying uconn fucking sucks 

some people are saying i suck

they might not be completely wrong 

now would be a good time to reply az 

like maybe make me feel better

fuck u actually 

what the fuck am i doing 

idk if u even read these 

February 2024

idk maybe i should stop 

like maybe only fucking psychos do this 

but idk bro 

i feel like ur gonna text me back eventually 

well sc was a shit show 

i mean we knew it but holy shit 

i really wanna talk to you about it

it’d mainly just be me fucking yelling 

and u giggling 

fuck i miss ur laugh

i miss you

idk if u just ignore these

so idk if ur gonna even see this 

but 

i wanted to tell you first 

before u saw it from somewhere else 

im staying at uconn 

u were right

i didnt want to leave yet 

i want my 4 years

but 

just dont think it means i didnt mean what i said

that i dont wanna be in la with u

i do

its not about that

i just need to do whats best for me

and thats staying here 

fuck

i get what u meant now

u didnt pick ucla over me

fuck fuck fuck 

im sorry az

is this how u felt 

when i didn’t text u back 

because it’s actually fucking hell 

i miss you so fucking much dude

i’m so sorry 

i’m really fucking sorry azzi 

for all of it

please just call me back

March 2024

last pac-12 tournament mvp!!

dude i’m so proud of you

we also won 

idk if u heard 

it wasnt easy either 

everything just always fucking goes wrong 

fucking pisses me off 

but oh well 

u know i dont even like texting 

idk how many messages ive sent u 

its gotta be hundreds atp 

insane shit on my part 

tf is wrong with me 

did u see the bracket

see u in the final 4 azzi 

April 2024 

i fucking told u 

i told you id see u in the final four

fucking meant it

fuck 

gonna kick yalls ass

revenge szn

we’re built different in march

cleveland here we fucking go 

but also

cant avoid me anymore 

i cant fucking wait to see you az  

***

UConn 87     UCLA 84 

There’s six seconds left to go and UCLA has control of the ball. The game today had been completely different from the on down in the Cayman Islands. That one had featured a UCLA team that had dominated from start to finish versus a UConn team still reeling from multiple injuries. This time around, UCLA seemed to have lost some of their shine and UConn had been on a tear. She would never give Paige the satisfaction of knowing it but her stupid goading, her incessant smirking because UConn seemed poised to win handedly, had gotten in Azzi’s head for most of the game. The fourth quarter had seen UConn enter with a 11 point lead that had held study until the last two and a half minutes when something had finally clicked for Azzi. 

“Told you, you should have fucking come to UConn,” Paige had sneered while casually dribbling the ball and that had been enough to break Azzi out of whatever funk she’d been in. All of her anger and frustration at Paige seemed to culminate into that one moment as she’d swiped the ball straight from Paige’s hands, narrowly avoiding a foul. An easy steal-and-score layup was followed by two signature three pointers, created by her team’s defence, and suddenly the lead had been cut down to three. On the other side, Muhl had been called for an offensive foul and immediately Coach Close had called for a timeout to advance the ball. 

When both teams get back on the court, Azzi, with her competitive streak in full control of her emotions, relishes in the way Paige’s face is contorted up in frustration. But it isn’t just this game that has Azzi irritated. Paige had been relentless since both teams had landed in Cleveland in trying to corner Azzi. She’d known it was gonna happen since she’d read the text but still Azzi had hoped that maybe the blonde would just let it go, would understand just how much Azzi didn’t want to have to deal with this. Because seeing Paige hurts. All the missing and yearning of the past few months seemed to have blended into this ball of tight hot pain that had burst the minute Paige had smiled at Azzi. She knows Paige means well, and it’s taking everything in her to ignore the part of her that’s secretly enamoured by how hard the point guard is trying finally, but Azzi just can’t do it again. She can’t let Paige in again and then spend every other second scared that Paige will run away again. 

The whistle blows and Charisma gets ready to inbound the ball. The play call had been to just get it to Azzi but it’s clearly one that UConn had anticipated, because she finds herself swarmed with Paige and Muhl both trying to make sure she doesn’t get the ball. Instead, it’s Kiki who gets the ball and the countdown starts, as Azzi fights to get herself free, running off of screens, to get herself open on the three point line. It takes too much time and they don’t have any more timeouts left. Kiki throws it inside to Lauren who misses the layup but gets her own rebound and somehow the ball finally finds its way into Azzi’s hands. And with barely a second left to go, and Paige’s hand firmly in her face, Azzi throws up a prayer. The arena goes deathly silent as the ball hits the back and then circles every inch of the rim before spilling over the edge and falling straight into Edwards’ hands. 

The crowd erupts in deafening cheers as the UConn bench rushes to the court, jubilantly hugging each other with Paige in the middle. Azzi blinks rapidly, refusing to be caught shedding a single tear on camera. Her teammates look distraught and Azzi feels disappointment curling into every crevice of her skin she’d almost had it. In the grand scheme of things she knows that, that shot would have only guaranteed overtime and not a win but still, it wouldn’t have meant a loss. And she knows this one isn’t completely on her either but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel the burden of it on her shoulders any way. 

But despite it all, seeing Paige’s bright smile stretch all over her beaming face as she celebrates with her team, soothes the sting of the loss just a little bit. Azzi still remembers late night calls and Paige’s broken voice too well, her brain imprinted with the misery of a girl who had just wanted to play the sport she loved and couldn’t. And even if everything between them resembles the remnants of an earthquake, Azzi can’t help but be just a little bit happy for Paige. 

The handshake line is better this time around with no one being unnecessarily hostile. One team is too happy to care and when Muhl briefly hugs her, Azzi can’t help but be a little shocked by the affection. Her team is too despondent to be mad, and Angela briefly nods at Paige when shaking her hand, and gets a reassuring grin in return. Azzi has to force herself not to run away, if only for decorum’s sake, once she and Paige finally get to each other. Trying to keep herself steady, she reaches out her hand to counter Paige’s outstretched arms. The smile falls a little bit from Paige’s face as a more resigned expression takes its place. 

“Good game Bueckers,” Azzi manages to muster out. 

The last name stings but Paige does her best to not let it show, “good game Az.”

***

When there’s a knock on the door to her hotel room a little bit after 10pm, Azzi knows exactly who it is. The look that Charisma gives her as she goes to open it, suggests that she does too. 

“Oh thank fucking god, I thought maybe y’all left already,” and there it is, Paige voice echoing through her room and from where she’s perched on the edge of bed, her feet dangling over the side, Azzi catches a brief glimpse of the UConn point guard. 

“Had a little bit of a transportation issue. We’re not leaving til tomorrow morning,” Charisma explains, “what are you doing here Paige?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously at the doorway, peering over Charisma’s frame in the doorway to catch sight of Azzi, “can I talk to Azzi?”

“First you kick my ass in the final four, and now you wanna kick me out of my own room?” Charisma asks, voice light but there’s an edge of seriousness to it. 

“I-uh-” 

“Az,” Charisma turns to Azzi with a questioning look, and Azzi sighs at having all the attention on her, “you wanna talk to her?”

Say no. Say yes. Her head fights with itself. And for the last few months, Azzi’s done well with listening to the logical part of her brain, diligently sticking to letting go. But that had only been easy to do because Paige hadn’t actually been there. Now that she is, with bright hopeful eyes fixed on Azzi, well, this time the emotional side wins out. She nods her head in yes at Charisma and Paige seems to glow all over. 

“You’re lucky it’s me and not Angela or Kiki or any of the other girls,” Charisma warns, “but I swear to god Bueckers if I come back and there’s a single tear-”

“Then you have my permission to fucking murder me,” Paige vows, her face a paragon of sincerity. 

Charisma nods once, stepping aside to let Paige in. The Bruin’s point guard looks at Azzi once more for confirmation and then, satisfied by the small smile Azzi shoots at her, she leaves the room, letting the door shut behind her. And then it’s just Paige and Azzi and the myriad of unspoken thoughts that seem to always linger between them. 

“Hi,” Paige says softly. 

Azzi stares up at her with tired eyes, “shouldn’t you be celebrating or something?”

“Still one more game to go. Gotta lock in for that first.”

“Then go do that. What are you doing here?”

Paige flinches at the harsh tone and Azzi feels a wave of guilt come over her. She doesn’t mean to be so hostile but she’s scared that if she gives in just a little, all of her will go tumbling down. 

“Sunday is the most important game of my life,” Paige says quietly. 

“I know- I know it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” Paige nods, as she takes a step forward, hesitating for a second, before she drags a foot stool over, so she can sit right in front of Azzi, “will you stay for it?”

“That’s not-,” Azzi sucks in a deep breath, her senses muddle by having Paige so close to her again, “I thought I was clear about- about us.’

“You were but I thought I was clear with my texts,” Paige counters. 

“Paige please.”

“I just-,” Paige pauses, leaning forward and staring intently at Azzi, “I don’t know how the national championship is gonna go. I don’t know if we’re gonna win or lose but I just- I know that no matter what happens, I want you there. Because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. I just- I just want you there. With me. Always.”

Everything else floats away and for a moment, all Azzi knows is Paige, and the warmth that reverberates through her body at the earnestness in those words. If she could, she’d capture that feeling in a bottle and keep it forever. Because moments are fleeting. And when her brain catches up to her heart, and that voice in her head is back to echoing it won’t last, Azzi feels cold all over again. 

“You don’t believe me,” disappointment echoes in Paige’s voice; she’s always been a little too perceptive of Azzi’s emotions, “you think I don’t mean it?”

“I think you mean it now. I don’t think you’ll mean it forever,” Azzi shrugs. 

Paige is quiet, nerves on full display, as she cautiously reaches for Azzi’s hands with both of her own, an audible sigh of relief floating out of her lips when Azzi lets her. 

“I know I fucked up,” she begins quietly, thumb caressing Azzi’s palms, each trace sending jolts of electricy through the younger girl’s body, “like really fucked up and I get why you think that. I get why- why you’re so scared to believe me. And I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

A teardrop rolls down Paige’s cheek, falling onto their intertwined hands, and Azzi feels herself flinch, her own eyes beginning to glisten. 

“If I could go back in time, I’d change so many fucking things. I’d go back to the beginning- back to your room the night before you went to LA and- and I’d tell myself to shut the fuck up. I’d tell you that I supported you- that I understood that you weren’t choosing UCLA over me- and I’d- I’d tell you that it didn’t matter how many fucking miles away from me you were- we’d survive it. But I can’t- I can’t change the past. I can’t change that we fought. I can’t change that- that I was a fucking idiot for ignoring you for a year. I can’t change that I was a dumbass for leaving that morning.”

Tears are freely streaming from both of their eyes now as they grip each other’s hands tightly. There’s something cathartic about finally being able to cry, about finally being able to mourn the loss of what could have been together.And it feels a little bit like healing. 

Paige looks up at Azzi through watery eyelashes as she continues to speak, her voice wrecked with emotion, “and I’m not gonna make promises about how I’ll never do shit to hurt you again because god knows I can be really fucking stupid.”

They let out simultaneous giggles at that and Azzi can feel something in herself unravelling. 

“But what I can promise is that if you let me, every day- every fucking day that I live- I will try. To not hurt you. To make it up to you. To fix this. To fix us. And I can promise, that I will never ever fucking run away from you again. I know- I know it’s gonna be hard but I swear- I fucking swear- that I will stay right here and face it with you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers helplessly. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear and it’s too much. The voices in her head are too loud again, screams of she’ll hurt you, she always does, let her go colliding with shouts of it’s Paige, it’s your Paige, hold on to her. 

“You said- you said you were tired of fighting alone but you never- you never have to do that again because- because I’m here now. Fuck- Azzi I’m here. And I know- I know there’s so much we have to talk about and so much we still have to fucking deal with. But we can do that- we can- we can deal with anything. Because it’s us. Paige and Azzi. We can do anything. Together.”

Paige presses her forehead to Azzi’s, pulling their interlocked hands to her chest. They’re breathing in sync and Azzi can feel the thrum of Paige’s heart beat against her fingertips. Azzi’s eyes close of their own accord, as Paige’s lips brush over hers, her next words coming out in a breathless whisper. 

“Believe in me- believe in us just one more time, please.”

[nilnether]

After Zoe's interview where she said Sullys would "go their separate ways" I've seen a lot of people worrying about Jake's and Neytiri's marriage.

“It’s going to be an emotional roller coaster,” she says. “The way ‘The Way of Water’ ended was unimaginably painful for the Sully family. Now, they have to make really strong decisions. Do they stay united and find common ground, or do they go their separate ways? And God knows what’s going to happen to the existing children.”

I think they do have different ideas on how this war should go as we saw even in ATWOW with Jake being tired of war (he avoids it until he can no more) and Neytiri wanting to just fight until all the invaders are gone (she's right but it's easier said then done). Fallout from Neteyam's death and the whole thing with Spider (staying with them, Quaritch) won't help either. Still, I don't see them breaking up ever. I think they will just make choices that will separate the family.

I have some ideas about what will happen but these rely on leaks (here if you want to read them) and other spoilers so only click below if you don't mind spoilers/already know.

I think the Sully family is getting physically separated - 1. because the kids are being sent away for safety and 2. because Jake is getting captured by RDA. And the strong decisions are what they have to make in each case.

After Spider gets his ability to breathe, he is set to become prime target for RDA since they would love to have that for their people. And Jake is already a prime target, even more after the SeaDragon battle and after he gets back into the fight and creating anti-RDA alliance. Sending kids away from the main forces means they are less likely makes sense but it also means their parents aren't there to protect them. I think they will all be sent back to Awa'atlu including Spider to Neytiri's displeasure.

It seems like a lot of the movie will also separate Jake and Neytiri during different events. We see only Jake is there during the initial escape from Ash Na'vi with the kids and Quaritch (Neytiri finds them later with the rescue party as Quaritch escapes with Wainfleet). This means Jake has to cooperate with Quaritch and they seem to be able to reach a temporary truce. This also shows Quaritch willing to soften his stance as he's not as hellbent on killing Jake as he was during AWOTW. He is now willing to bring him in alive (dead only if he has to).

This matters because there are indications that Jake does get captured eventually. There was a material (now removed) in behind the Scenes showing Jake in handcuffs with Quaritch and Wainfleet and attacking Parker Selfridge. It is possible that it's also Jake in orange prison jumpsuit on the screenshot showing Quaritch and Lyle in some high tech room (possibly on board the Factory Ship).

So this initial moment of cooperation to save the kids probably keeps Jake alive later. I'm sure, however, it didn't make Neytiri happy that he let the man responsible for the attack that killed Neteyam just leave. Not after all they went through in that battle.

She certainly seems to disagree about sending Spider with the kids. She might be right since both he and Jake get captured by RDA, possibly because Jake finally doesn't abandon Spider, but her solution seems to be to kill Spider instead so no wonder they don't see eye to eye there. (BTW I hope the implication she would rather have him dead is either a misreading or gets toned down like Parents from Hell were).

And it seems like the kids each will go in their own direction to - Spider captured and maybe experimented on because of his new ability; Kiri investigating her new abilities; Lo'ak becoming even closer with Payakan and maybe other tulkun. They too probably only come together again at the end.

But I think this capture of Jake is their big separation. I think Jake will try to keep Spider safe instead of abandoning him this time and that will get him captured. I think that finding that common ground about Spider with Quaritch will keep him alive. And I have no doubt Neytiri will lead the effort to free Jake while he will try his best to come back to his family. Possibly in that big Sea Battle we saw teased.

This might be after the rescue

[jaydedstories24]

For who YOU are– Michael Langdon AHS apocalypse

Summary: after Cordelia kills Ms mead Michael Langdon kills the other witches but takes the reader hostage when he sees that the others have escaped. For the first time in Michael’s life, someone wants to know what he wants.

Warnings: kidnapping, being held hostage, Burning someone at the stake, swearing, talk of abuse.

Word count: 1.6+

Tags: @ajokeformur-ray

Y/n POV

“where did you guys go?” I say to everyone that's just walked in the door.

“To take care of a problem, dear” Myrtle says.

“and is there a reason why you went without me but everyone else” I asked.

I take a look at Zoe, Madison, queenie, Mallory and Cordelia they're all dressed in black.

“ You burnt someone at the stake didn't you” I accuse.

“Yes y/n if you must know we burnt someone at the stake” Cordelia walked passed me.

“Who” I asked.

Cordelia hasn't really spoken to me or has been really arrogant since Michael came into our lives apparently I'm the only one here that doesn't see him what everyone else says he is.

“Who” I yelled.

“the old lady with the black hairstyle” Madison answers.

“Ms. Mead you killed Ms. why on earth would you do that” I freak out.

“To show Michael that I’m done messing around with him” Cordelia says

Taking her by surprise I put both of my hands on the side of her head and forced myself into her memories.

Flashes, the burning, the smell of charred flesh.

“I will kill you all” Michael promised.

I take my hands off of Cordelia.

“I am your supreme you may have gifts that the others don’t but you will not use them on me” she orders.

“Some supreme you are you’ve practically signed our death certificates with that you do understand right? At least Fiona would’ve made a truce with him” I yell.

“Do not use my mother against me y/n” Cordelia scolds.

“I have gifts you don’t that is correct it’s also why I told you not to attack Michael everything I saw everything I warned you about” I told Cordelia.

“What you saw maybe true but that side of Michael is long gone I gave him a chance today and he turned it down” Cordelia replied.

“Of course he did you killed the one person he thought who loved him what did you think that you were going to walk off arm in arm, embrace the coven that killed the closest thing to he ever had to a mother. I don’t think he would want to bake cookies with you Cordelia” I spat

“I’m strong enough to take him y/n” Cordelia says.

“That’s a laugh” I smiled.

I turned around to walk back up the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going Missy?” Cordelia questioned.

“To paint my nails so that they’re fresh for my inevitable death, are you coming Madi? I invite her.

“No, this shits crazy I’m out for what it’s worth y/n I hope you live you’re the only one I like around here.” She walks out the front door.

“When Michael comes here and trust me he will. I won’t fight him and I won’t protect you” I warn

I walked upstairs.

Red.

Red I think is a fantastic colour to paint your nails before you die. I think painting them black is just a little on the nose.

It has started my blood runs cold I can hear the witches downstairs especially the younger ones calling out for me. But if I have any chance of being able to really meet Michael for who he is I can’t do anything. So I put my headphones on and paint my last nail.

I look up when I smell the metallic scent that blood gives off.

Michael stands at my door my breath hitches. It’s different looking into Michael’s eyes they’re look hardened much unlike the sweet past version I saw him as in murder house. However they still have the Same jaded look on his face

He stands there for a moment before racing towards me I only flinch when he blows black dust into my face.

Floating? I feel I’m floating I don’t open my eyes I’m too tired and strangely I’m at peace.

I feel someone put me on what feels like a wooden chair and put something on my wrist.

My head rolls forward and I wake up.

“Thank Satan I thought you were going to sleep forever then you wouldn’t have been very helpful to me” Michael says.

“Yeah well that stuff smells like goats ass” I say half smart.

“No that would be me actually” he tells me.

Now that he says that it gives me a moment to take in his appearance disheveled, dirty but mostly he looks broken.

“Listen Michael I know you’re going through a hard time–“ I start.

“A hard time your witches killed my Ms mead and now you’re going to help me” he yells.

“I’m not going to be much help to you” I say quietly.

“You will help me whether you like it or not” he towers over me.

To my surprise I don’t quiver when he stands over me.

“You see when the witches when they notice you’re gone they will have to come out of hiding and look for you” he tells me.

“No they won’t we got into a disagreement. I’ve been arguing with the coven for months now” I disagree with him.

There’s a look in his eyes that proves he wants to believe me but some part that thinks he can’t after everything he’s been through.

I struggle with the rope’s around my wrists. They start burning.

“They’re cursed ropes they won’t hurt you unless you try to escape” he says.

In this moment I found that interesting he doesn’t intend to hurt me. I stop resisting and relax.

“You say that the coven has had a disagreement with you. What could possibly cause that much of a rift that they wouldn’t protect their own” he asks me.

Michael sits down on a wooden box waiting for my answer.

“You, we had a disagreement about you” I answered hesitantly.

He leans forward slightly, “what about me?”

“They think you’re evil” I answered.

Michael seems suspicious for a moment, “you don’t”

I shake my head.

“Why” he scoffs.

“Because after you performed the seven wonders and the extra challenges Cordelia made us look into you. She sent Madison and I to the house you grew up in”

“What did you find there?. Did you find whatever proof you were looking for?” He seems intrigued.

“The others found what they needed to crucify you but I don’t agree with them” I answered honestly.

“If you went looking then you would have also found that I am the Antichrist” he says.

“But that doesn’t make you evil Michael it makes you powerful. I know about your upbringing, about Constance’s abuse, trying to get to know Tate as your dad and your interesting relationship with Ben. Michael I know a lot about you and I understand it but everyone your entire life has done nothing but force their opinions on you” I say softly.

He takes a moment to comprehend everything I just said to him.

“So you know full well everything I am so you understand why I’m so upset about Ms. Mead she is the one person who didn’t force anything on to me” he says softly.

I sighed. He hasn’t realised it yet but she was using him too.

“Don’t suggest otherwise to me don’t lie to me” he orders.

“Michael I’m not I promise to you I’m not” I tell him.

He seems to be waiting for an explanation.

“I have a particular gift that allows me to adsorb a memory and share it with other people would it be okay if I could share it with you” I asked him.

“That’s a trick I know better than that do not take me for a fool. You just want me to untie your hands” he says.

“No, Michael I use touch to transfer the memory using touch. I don’t want you to untie my hands until you’re ready, until you trust me and only then. I’m asking for permission to touch you” I explain.

He walks over to me and kneels down to my level, “do whatever you have to do, show me”

I lean forward the smell doesn’t really bother me anymore. I lean forward far enough that I’m barely touching him. I just need confirmation that he’s okay with this.

He stares at me with his blue eyes that seem to be staring into my soul. “Y/n it’s okay, kiss me.” This is the first time he’s said my name.

My lips touch his and lock my touch is as light as feather. I whisper the spell I need to to show him the memory.

He stays there absolutely shocked for a moment tearing and shaking.

He quickly undoes the ropes.

“I don’t even know what to say as shocking as it is I am thankful for the truth how can I thank you,what can I do for you ” he tells me.

Tears slide down his face.

I hug him. “Michael I want to get to know you for who you are.

The end

Author’s note this is my first post on my new account hope you like it. Anyway this is inspired by a conversation I had with a friend sorry I didn’t get to it sooner I’ve been busy

Requests are open

[persevereforahappyending]

Maybe in Another Life |12|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Battle of The Labyrinth Spoilers

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13 | ch. 14 | ch. 15 | ch. 16 | ch. 17

You were in Clarisse’s bathroom finishing setting up everything you’d need to create a rainbow. You had the shower running, Clarisse found a smaller mirror you could use to help reflect that light from the window to the mirror above the sink. It took a few minutes but once everything was positioned properly you pulled out a gold drachma, your last one, and tossed it into the rainbow.

You closed your eyes after a minute, silently hoping this would work. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Thalia’s voice, yelling at some of the other Hunters about how to set up the camp. You let out a shaky breath, the noise seeming to draw Thalia’s attention.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “You’re alive.”

“Language!” You heard one of your sisters yell. A moment later she popped up through the mist, her eyes widening as soon as she saw you. “Oh, my gods, you’re alive!”

“Get Artemis,” Thalia demanded, your sister instantly took off at the order. “I can’t believe you’re alive, what happened?”

You nodded; you probably shouldn’t have been so surprised at their shock. You knew you had just up and disappeared, but you didn’t think they’d all assume you were dead.

“What’s going on?” Artemis’s voice came, a second later she appeared next to Thalia. She turned, her eyes widening upon seeing you.

“Apologies my goddess,” you rasped out. Your voice suddenly a lot drier than it had previously been. “I did not mean to disappear on you.” You bowed your head slightly.

“What happened?” Artemis asked softly. “We were beginning to think the worst.” Even through the iris message you could see the care and worry in your goddesses’ eyes. The loss of Zoe was still fresh and then you up and disappeared for you didn’t know how long, you were sure it wasn’t easy on Artemis or the Hunters.

“You look like shit,” Thalia said. Artemis quickly shot her a glare and Thalia was quick to mumble an apology. “Seriously, did you like take a shortcut through the underworld?”

“I wish,” you sighed. “I was downtown, picking up the ambrosia and nectar when I saw Clarisse.” Thalia’s widened in shock, but Artemis tilted her head at the unknown person. “She’s a daughter of Ares from camp Half-Blood.”

“The one you’ve been communicating with,” Artemis concluded.

Your entire body tensed up. Artemis knew you were talking to someone from camp you had befriended but she didn’t know much more. You were afraid of her knowing more, if she saw you and Clarisse together, there was no doubt in your mind that she’d pick up on the fact that you had feelings for the other girl. You might not have crossed any lines yet but that didn’t mean Artemis would be forgiving. She could decide Clarisse was a distraction and order you to cut contact with her. Still, you nodded nonetheless, confirming what Artemis already knew.

“She’s the one that’s been missing,” Thalia added. You furrowed your brow at that. You weren’t too surprised that Chiron and the camp knew she was gone but you weren’t sure how Thalia knew. “I talked to Annabeth.” Now that made sense.

“Chiron asked us to keep an eye out for a missing camper,” Artemis said. “He mentioned how they hadn’t met their check-in’s and last he heard from them they were still in the city.”

“How long were we gone?” You asked. You tried processing everything they were telling you. A day or two would be worrisome but not enough to inform others. If Chiron asked Artemis and the Hunters to keep an eye out that meant you had to have been in the labyrinth for a significant amount of time.”

“Three months.” Your eyes widened at that. You were thinking maybe a few weeks at most, not three whole months.

“It only felt like two days,” you mumbled to yourself. Two days in the labyrinth, one night, and yet on the outside world it had been three months.

“You found it,” Thalia whispered, her eyes widening.

Your eyes snapped back up to hers. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew about the mission. She talked to Annabeth regularly, they were best friends, she was probably the only person outside of Annabeth, Chiron, and Clarisse to know about it. You slowly nodded your head.

“What were you doing with her?” Artemis asked. “How did you end up in the labyrinth?” You weren’t even surprised that she knew as well, Chiron probably informed her what Clarisse was working on when she went missing.

“I saw Clarisse looking around a hotel across the street from where I was,” you said. “I knew she was on a secret mission but didn’t know what for. After she told me, I suggested searching the basement instead of outside the hotel.”

“You know she was supposed to just find the door not actually enter, right?” Thalia snarked.

You gave Thalia an unamused look. “That wasn’t intentional.” You glanced back to the closed bathroom door, you could hear Clarisse mumbling and moving around as she talked to Chris. “There was a monster, we took cover and it ended up being the door to the labyrinth.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, we-” there was a loud bang as if something had been thrown at the bathroom door.

“What was that?”

You kept your attention on the door, ignoring Thalia’s question. There was more banging, and you heard Clarisse yelling. You took a step towards the door, ready to fling it open and help Clarisse with whatever she was dealing with. You waited a second and the banging eventually died down.

“You good?” you called out. You needed to be sure that Clarisse answered you and it hadn’t gotten quite because Chris did something.

“Yeah,” Clarisse called out, though it was muffled through the door.

You let out a shaky breath, looking up to the ceiling. “Sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “We found Chris.”

Thalia furrowed her brow. “Chris, Chris?” she asked. You nodded, watching as her eyes widened. “Chris Rodriguez, Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“Where the hell did you find him?” Thalia gestured with her hands.

“Arizona,” you sighed tiredly. Thalia raised her eyebrows at that. “We followed one of Hephaestus’ mechanical spiders, it led us to the door that got us out of the labyrinth which apparently was in Arizona.” You could only shrug, you were glad they knew about the labyrinth because your words sounded insane.

“And why is he still with you?” Thalia asked hesitantly.

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. You glanced back at the door as if you could see through it, you remembered the look Clarisse had in her eyes upon seeing Chris like that. You didn’t know how close Clarisse and Chris were before his betrayal, she had never mentioned him, but it was clear she cared for him. Getting him back to her house wasn’t easy, he fought the both of you at every turn, but Clarisse had still treated him with kindness. You wanted to just knock him out and drag him back, but she didn’t seem to want to hurt him.

“He’s not right,” you said quietly, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know what happened to him in the labyrinth but whatever it was,” you shook your head, flicking your gaze up to meet Thalia and Artemis’s. “It wasn’t good.”

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Artemis said. “Where are you now?”

“Clarisse’s,” you looked around. “Got lucky it seems, we popped out not to far from her place.”

“We’re camping for the night.”

“Where? I can meet you.” You didn’t want to leave Clarisse so soon after surviving what the two of you just did but you needed to be back with your sisters.

“Rest.” Though Artemis’s tone was soft you couldn’t help but frown. “You look like you need it. We’re leaving at first light, if you leave early morning, we should be able to meet up. You know our usual spot just north of you?”

“Of course,” you nodded. The Hunters always stopped in the same spot if they were passing by. It was a gorgeous natural area, somehow completely secluded and nearly untouched by humans. That was rare to find, and it also happened to be one of the best places to see the stars.

“See you then,” Artemis gave a final nod, then walked away.

You stood there for a moment, staring down at the floor. “Are you okay?” Thalia asked.

You let out a long breath. “The labyrinth…” you shook your head. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Luke might be trying to find a way to make it work for him, but Annabeth needs to be careful with whatever she’s planning.”

Thalia nodded; she was looking off to the side, deep in thought. You didn’t know Annabeth well, you truly only had met her twice, but she was Thalia’s best friend. Thalia didn’t seem thrilled about whatever Annabeth’s plan was. You weren’t sure if Thalia knew all the details about what Annabeth wanted to do but she knew enough and knew Annebeth well enough to be able to guess what her friend’s logic was.

“Do you want me to contact Chiron for you?” Thalia asked after a few seconds.

You shook your head. “Clarisse will,” you sighed. “Once I take over Chris watch.”

“Is he really that bad?”

You nodded. “I’d only ever heard the stories, people losing their mind in the maze, I never imagined it would be like this though.”

Thalia nodded. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “It would suck if that not even a year into being Artemis’s lieutenant I lost my second.”

“Had a close call but I don’t intend to die on you.”

Thalia tilted her head at your words, but she didn’t press. You weren’t ready to talk about what happened, you were still processing everything. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” With that you ended the call.

Just as you ended the call you heard more shouting, and stuff being thrown around. You didn’t hesitate this time as you flung open the door and ran out into her bedroom. Your eyes widened at the scene before you. Chris was thrashing around on the bed, reaching for whatever he could get his hands on as Clarisse held him down by the shoulders, trying to pin him. His right hand was still tied, though loose, and he had somehow broken free of the restraint on his left hand.

You rushed forward, ripping the lamp out of Chris’s hand before he could smash it over Clarisse’s head. She glanced at you; eyes wide as they went from you to Chris to the lamp. You nodded at her as you grabbed Chris’s left arm, pushing him harder into the mattress. He was practically foaming at the mouth as he screamed and thrashed around.

You looked at Clarisse until she looked up at you again. “Sorry,” you whispered. She only had time to furrow her brow before you took one of your hands off of Chris and punched him in the face. You didn’t pay attention to Clarisse’s reaction as you punched him in the face two more times, finally knocking him out.

You slumped back, but unable to take your eyes off Chris, you were waiting for him to pop back up and try clawing your eyes out. “We need to restrain him better,” you finally said. “I know you don’t want to hurt him.” You glanced at Clarisse; but her eyes were still on Chris. “But it’s for the best. He could hurt himself or someone else otherwise.” You didn’t move from the side of the bed until Clarisse gave you a nod.

You re-tied and tightened the old fabric Clarisse had torn up to tie Chris to the headboard. You grabbed the extra pieces of fabric and tied them around his ankles then to the posts at the end of the bed. When you were done Clarisse got up from the bed, without a word she began digging through her bag until she pulled out some rope, handing it to you without so much as glancing in your direction. You tied the rope around the fabric as tight as you could without cutting off Chris’s circulation. The rope would hold him in place better, it was stronger, but the fabric underneath it would hopefully prevent it from digging into his wrists when he inevitably woke up and started thrashing around.

“I’m going to contact Chiron,” Clarisse mumbled before heading off to the bathroom.

You decided to plop yourself down in the chair at her desk. You kept an eye on Chris, he twitched every once in a while, like he was in a nightmare, but he didn’t wake up. You couldn’t help but glance around the room, it was like you were getting an inside look at Clarisse’s mind. She had a large stereo on a shelf and her walls were lined with posters, you assumed from bands based on some of them holding instruments. There were also books on famous wars, a few photos and art prints depicting famous battles. There were also weapons littered all over the place, swords and axes hanging form the walls, and daggers lying on table tops and under books.

“How’d it go?” you asked, pushing yourself out of the chair when Clarisse walked out of the bathroom.

“Chiron’s on his way,” Clarisse said. “Maybe he can help,” she glanced at Chris.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for. You were sorry someone she clearly cared for was suffering, you were sorry you had to tie him up, you were sorry for being the reason she lost her spear, you were sorry for so much and yet ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to be enough.

“It’s not your fault,” she mumbled, walking up to Chris’s side. She reached out, brushing some hair out of the way that was sticking to his forehead. “I used to have a crush on him.” It was nearly a whisper, but you heard it, you couldn’t help the way your heart dropped at those words. “Before he was a traitor.” She let out a humorless chuckle.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Clarisse shook her head. “My first crush turned out to be a traitor and my second…”

You dropped your eyes to the floor. Her first crush was a traitor and her second was you, a Hunter, someone she could never be with. “Really know how to pick ’em,” she sighed.

“I’m sure there’s someone out there for you,” you said softly. “And it will be someone that actually deserves you.”

You gave a half smile when you saw a small smile appear on Clarisse’s face, though it was a sad one. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone,” she shrugged.

You shook your head. “I don’t believe that. There’s someone out there that will be everything you desire; they’ll see you for how strong and incredible you truly are.” Clarisse finally looked up at you, meeting your eyes for the first time since you restrained Chris. “The only way you don’t end up with someone is if you decide that’s not what you want.”

Clarisse glanced around her room, avoiding eye contact with you once again, clearly trying to hide her emotions. “I assume you’re leaving,” she abruptly changed the subject.

“In the morning,” you said, allowing the subject change. “Hope it’s okay to crash on your couch.”

“Of course.”

After getting cleaned up and getting some clean clothes from Clarisse, since yours were covered in dirt and blood, you went downstairs to see Clarisse setting out a blanket and pillow for you on the couch. You didn’t know where her mom was and she hadn’t mentioned her, you figured her mom not being home was probably a common thing. It was still light out as you settled in for sleep, but your body was definitely feeling the toll the labyrinth had taken on it. Clarisse volunteered for Chris duty, she was going to sleep in her mom’s room, which was just down the hall, so she would be the closest anyway.

Sleep came easy for you; you didn’t wake up once. When you did wake up the rest of the house was silent, and it was still dark out. You glanced at the clock in the room, seeing it was just before sunrise. As quietly as you could you folded the blanket, sitting it and the pillow on the couch as nicely as you could. Then you grabbed your bag, making sure you had everything, and going through a mental checklist of anything you might need to get before meeting up with the others.

“You leaving?” Clarisse whispered.

You glanced back to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs, you had to give her credit, you hadn’t even heard her walk down the steps. “In a few minutes,” you said, closing up your pack. “Don’t worry, I was going to say goodbye.” You gave her a soft smile as you turned around to fully face her. “How was last night?” you nodded towards the stairs.

“Seems you knocked him out very well.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that, you hadn’t meant to hit him quite that hard, but you were glad if it meant Clarisse finally got some sleep.

Before anything else could be said there was a knock at the door. You and Clarisse glanced at each other before she cautiously walked to the door. You reached for your bow as she turned the door handle, not relaxing your grip until you saw Chiron walk in.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Chiron said. “Where is he?”

“Upstairs,” Clarisse answered, pointing Chiron in the direction. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

You watched as Chiron disappeared up the stairs. You walked over to the front door where Clarisse was still standing. You reached out, brushing your fingers against hers, you were about to pull away when she intertwined your hands.

“He’ll be okay,” you whispered, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

She nodded. “Be safe and keep in touch,” she said, giving your hand a gently squeeze back.

With that you made your way out her front door. You looked back once, watching as she finally closed the door behind you. You truly hoped Chiron would be able to help Chris, no one deserved to be going through what he was. You gave a final look at the house, not sure when you’d see Clarisse again before turning and making your way to the place you’d meet your sisters.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

[insanityclause]

On a cold evening in London, two German tourists survey the Theatre Royal Drury Lane. Lina, 19, outlines their master plan to meet Tom Hiddleston, starring in Much Ado About Nothing. Tonight: scrutinise the procedure at stage door, where only ticket holders are allowed to wait for a chance to meet the cast. Tomorrow: watch Much Ado then race to join the stage-door queue. As a backup, they’ve bought tickets for the next night, too.

“Be prepared!” Lina declares. Are they hoping for autographs, selfies … acting tips? “Just to see him. That would be enough. We especially travelled here for this. It’s all worth it. I just worry a little that he hasn’t much time.” She considers the arriving fans. “Wow – that’s a very big line.”

Near the front is Lilly, 22, who saw the first half of the play then opted to join the queue rather than watch the rest. (“I’ll read up on the story afterwards!”) A dozen others in the queue have also not watched the full show tonight. Lilly is rehearsing what to say to Hiddleston and co-star Hayley Atwell, who are both returning to theatre after Marvel blockbusters. They’re quite the draw: the theatre fits about 2,000 and most performances have practically sold out. Five minutes after it ends, there are 125 people waiting at stage door.

When Atwell emerges, her beaming smile is visible from the other side of the street where those without tickets are asked to stand. Passersby stop to stare; crowds swell. Still no sign of Hiddleston. “He’s probably having a poo,” says someone behind me.

You might think the curtain call signals the end of the night for actors but there remains the final act at the stage door, where fans have always lingered. Opposite the Theatre Royal is the tiny Fortune theatre, where cheers are greeting cast members for musical comedy Operation Mincemeat. I meet Liz, 29, who has seen the show several times and has brought flowers for Madeleine Jackson-Smith, debuting in a new role. She’s waiting “to tell the cast that they did a phenomenal job … that just feels polite!”

Meanwhile, here comes Hiddleston, albeit to milder whoops than the Mincemeat cast. Like Atwell, he chats, signs, poses for pics. He must have done at least 100 autographs by the time he leaves to cries of despair from a queue now snaking around the corner. But there are no complaints from Lilly, who is buzzing from her encounter.

That’s the magic of stage door, where gratitude goes both ways. Layton Williams, currently in Titanique at the Criterion, tells me he’ll go out almost every night, “no matter how tired I am”. He thanks fans, some of whom he has known for years, and enjoys hearing what the show means to them. Lucie Jones says she encounters people “whose lives have been changed” by a show and has been “humbled” by terminally ill fans saying thank you on a final trip to the theatre. When Renée Lamb meets fans at stage doors in Liverpool, where she grew up, it is especially evident that “I’m essentially doing their dream – that was me at one point”. When she was younger, Lamb waited for Cynthia Erivo at stage door: “She had so much time – she was so gracious.”

Zoe Birkett, currently in the Tina Turner bio-musical at the Aldwych, says she appreciates how fans “make the effort to find the stage door – which can sometimes be right the way around the building, down an alley” and that they wait for her. “After I play Tina, I have a cool down, a shower, take off my wig and makeup, get my food ready. I can take about 20 minutes to come out. Just to see them waiting, come rain or shine, with positive feedback, is wonderful.”

But some fans aren’t here to flatter. “People can say rude things,” Williams tells me. “One person would say, ‘Oh we’re loving this but just so you know, we thought that TV show was shit.’ I’m like, how about kiss my arse?” Jones has fielded detailed critiques and requests to “sing this note that way” or “do that line like this”. Lamb says a lot of her friends don’t do stage door any more because it makes them too anxious.

Sometimes Jones will come out “and there’ll be nobody there,” she says. “The next night, there’ll be 100 people wanting you to sign their programme and make videos for their nan’s cat.” The security provision is equally unpredictable. When she starred in Waitress: The Musical in the West End, Jones was assisted by “a wonderful man” who accompanied her to her car or train home. At Les Mis, “there’s always a security guard and they stay until you’re done”. But stars can go from receiving a standing ovation in the spotlight to single-handedly controlling crowds themselves outside. Bear in mind they will be physically and emotionally drained – sometimes having done two shows that day.

Stage doors may open out on to busy streets. Birkett enjoys playing Wolverhampton Grand – “love the people, love the theatre” – but it is right in the town centre. “If you’re there on a Saturday, you’ve just got to be a bit more cautious.” Williams says that at some of the more exposed stage doors: “You get drunk people walking by. People push in. I’m like, ‘Can you see this queue? Come on!’ It should never come down to the actor to say these things.” Ultimately, says Birkett, actors “walk out of stage door on to a dark street and hope that people are going to be nice”.

Personal boundaries are not always respected. “Everybody has a horror story, I’ve been pulled and shoved,” notes Lamb. Williams says: “One person hugged me from behind and pulled in. I’m like, ‘Oh, my Adam’s apple – you’re literally strangling me.’ When I’ve seen that person again, I’m like, ‘Please, stand back.’” The positives outweigh the negatives, he says, “but if you think you’re taking the piss you probably are”. For those who come to see him perform eight times a week? “Don’t think we need to be doing stage door eight times a week … How much time do you need to be around one person? If I’m seeing you more than my mum or my boyfriend, we have issues!”

All these actors deeply appreciate their fanbase. Birkett finds that “people want to cuddle me and feel the embrace … I do love that but I will always wear a mask to make sure I don’t catch a cold.” She says it’s often younger fans who seek “some sort of physical connection – they want to go: are you real? … Because you’re so different to being on stage when you walk out of stage door.” On the odd occasion, someone has wanted to touch her hair. “I kind of have to go, ‘No, I don’t want to do that.’”

In the US, the term “stage-door Johnny” dates back to at least 1890, referring to men who hang around playhouses, targeting female performers. All actors face the danger of inappropriate behaviour. In 2023, Paul Mescal told a fan to “take your hand off my ass” after she groped him at the Almeida when he was in A Streetcar Named Desire. (Mescal recently took his own film of the celebratory atmosphere at stage door after Streetcar’s last night in the West End.)

The “fear factor” remains for actors, says Jones. Like “when you get followed to your car or someone will tag you in something on social media and they’re really near your house. That may be a coincidence but you have to live slightly on edge because we are accessible and we do take the same routes home. Where does the duty of care from the theatre stop?” Lamb was in the West End cast of long-running hit Six, “which is essentially an accessible girl band – people are going to want to be close to that”. On a big show, she says, “people do expect to be able to meet you”.

When Williams discovered fake social media accounts made in his name, he asked himself: “Have I seen this person at stage door? It’s scary.” One time, an autograph hunter followed him back to his digs and “put a programme literally under the door. It was like 1am or 2am. I was on tour in Newcastle, all by myself.” He still looks over his shoulder after a show, thinking: “I hope someone’s not followed me.” Unfamiliarity with your surroundings means it can be frightening on tour, says Lamb. Birkett has heard of “young dancers who are walking for bloody miles to their digs” after leaving stage door.

“Sometimes this can be reduced to a sort of ‘stars’ issue,” says Paul W Fleming, general secretary of Equity, the performing arts and entertainment trade union. It not only affects celebrities, he says, but also “people who are on the minimum wage” appearing in a musical with a huge following. Some fans, he says, are “treating them as props or characters that aren’t real human beings with lives. They’re working people who are members of a trade union, who have every right to dignity at work.” It is indicative, he suggests, of how society generally views the performing arts as not serious.

Many performers choose not to make stage-door appearances. On the opening night of The Fear of 13 at the Donmar Warehouse, there were signs saying Adrien Brody would not do so. Hannah Essex, co-CEO of the Society of London Theatre and UK Theatre, points out: “Actors, like everyone, need to prioritise their health and wellbeing and may not always be able to stop at the stage door. Understanding this helps create a supportive environment for all.” Essex adds: “Theatres are committed to ensuring a positive experience for both staff and the public by working closely with relevant authorities to manage stage-door interactions effectively.”

What practical measures may help? Barriers are common on Broadway but Birkett says that with the influx of A-list stars in the West End they may be seen more here – and they make it “less likely that you’re going to get grabbed” says Lamb. But barriers are “not appropriate in every situation,” says Fleming. “We’re talking about Victorian, Georgian buildings in some cases [with] quite weird back alleys.”

Fleming says the situation at stage doors around the country has been exacerbated by “an asset stripping of the industry, with massive multinational corporations purchasing venues, not having an interest in the industry itself but having an interest in profit and so driving down terms and conditions”.

He highlights the problem of performers handling crowds themselves after shows. “You’re not paid an hourly rate for that. But equally: is the security guard on the minimum wage? There’s a great temptation to sort of pit worker against worker. Very often [the security guards] are people who have never watched a theatre production themselves. They are not permanently employed by the theatre. They’re going off and being a nightclub bouncer somewhere else. They’re on a zero-hours contract. Whereas in the past, our members would have been on much more stable contracts and the theatre would have employed a stage-door team – a stage-door keeper [who oversees staff coming in and out, handles deliveries and has other duties] plus someone to do security.”

A permanent stage-door team, says Fleming, is more likely to “understand the fans and have a bit of a rapport”. That nuanced understanding might alleviate the dismissive responses when members of the ensemble come out as opposed to the lead actor. “People who work their tails off, but maybe don’t necessarily have a following, will come out of stage door, says Jones, “and they are greeted with: ‘Oh, do you know if so-and-so is coming out?’”

Jones has also found herself handed photos she is proud of but now deems inappropriate to sign. “I did a Wonderbra campaign when I was about 18. You get the occasional guy come and say: ‘Can you please sign these eight photos of teenage you in underwear?’” Lamb says she has been mistaken for other actors of colour at stage door – another reason some performers might think twice about going out, “especially if you’re doing a job that requires being vulnerable”.

Birkett says that you can’t fully switch off until you’ve done stage door. “As soon as you walk out, there’s going to be cameras, you might be live on someone’s TikTok.” As a teenage contestant on Pop Idol, she became used to the paparazzi: “But I think if you’re a new actor, it’s probably traumatic. You don’t sign up for that. You’re signing up to play a role because you love acting.”

The stage door is where fandom, fuelled by the razzle-dazzle of theatre and 24/7 social media activity, butts against real people’s prosaic lives. “Ninety-eight per cent of the time fans aren’t trying to overstep or be malicious,” recognises Lamb. But Fleming gives a pertinent account about an actor experiencing bereavement on tour, returning to the show after time off. “They leave the stage door with their headphones in. They don’t want to talk to anybody. This is an actor playing a secondary character, chased down the street by fans concerned to know where they have been for the past three shows.”

Better understanding of the fan culture, he said, could have predicted and defused the incident. “Because this particular group of fans are going to be interested, they think they’re your friends. And that’s part of the magic of theatre – creating a world that is so special, that people believe it to be true.” But at the end of the day – or the end of the night, on a fast-emptying street in an unfamiliar town – “our members have a right to feel safe in the real world”.

Layton Williams is in Titanique at the Criterion theatre. Renée Lamb is in Radiant Boy at Southwark Playhouse. Lucie Jones is in Austenland at the Savoy theatre. Zoe Birkett is in Tina at the Aldwych theatre.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

The reasoning for Hermes' absence in Luke's life is not adding up

So Hermes says he can't interfere in Luke's life due to the Ancient Laws (are these laws ever clarified somewhere??):

"Luke, I care very much," Hermes said slowly, "but gods must not interfere directly in mortal affairs. It is one of our Ancient Laws. Especially when your destiny . . ."

And we know Hermes loves Luke. Luke is described by Poseidon and Hermes himself as a favoured child. Plus Hermes is really distraught by everything going on with Luke:

His voice broke, and he shrank back to human size. "My son, my greatest pride . . . my poor May . . ." He sounded so devastated I didn't know what to say. One minute he was ready to vaporize us. Now he looked like he needed a hug.

We do see Hermes try to "help" his son by giving him that quest and asking Percy to talk to Luke. Not sure what Hermes was expecting from Percy speaking to his son. It would have made more sense for Hermes to ask Annabeth to do so. But anyway...too little too late either way.

I was reading Titan's Curse and there are multiple actions taken by the gods in that book that directly contradict what Hermes is saying or at the very least could have provided a loophole for Hermes to help Luke in some fashion earlier in life.

Let me go over one by one:

1) Gods can interfere if it relates to their domain (Artemis)

The monster wailed. "This is not fair! Direct interference! It is against the Ancient Laws." "Not so," another girl said. This one was a little younger than me, maybe twelve or thirteen. She had auburn hair gathered back in a ponytail and strange eyes, silvery yellow like the moon. Her face was so beautiful it made me catch my breath, but her expression was stern and dangerous. "The hunting of all wild beasts is within my sphere. And you, foul creature, are a wild beast." She looked at the older girl with the circlet. "Zoe, permission granted."

By this logic, Hermes should be able to interfere if Luke is actively participating in his domain. As a runaway kid, Luke comfortably would be under his jurisdiction as god of travellers or god of thieves/tricks. When Luke was on the Princess Andromeda, a mode of transport, Hermes should have been able to intervene here too. Even if Poseidon could not due to other sea deities.

2) Gods can interfere through prayer (Poseidon, Zeus)

"The blessing of the Wild," Grover said. "That should help with safe passage. Percy, pray to your dad, too. See if he will grant us safe passage through the seas."

"Thalia," I said. "Pray to your dad." She glared at me. "He never answers." "Just this once," I pleaded. "Ask for help. I think… I think the statues can give us some luck."

In Poseidon's case, Percy also needed to make a sacrifice. For Zeus' case, Thalia's life was in danger. Those are some important caveats.

Now Hermes does claim that he answers Luke's prayers:

Hermes readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder. “Percy, the hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children. If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem … well, that would only create more problems and more resentment. But I believe if you give it some thought, you will see that Poseidon has been paying attention to you. He has answered your prayers. I can only hope that some day, Luke may realize the same about me...”

Will talk about this at the end...

3) Gods can interfere if you straight up ask (Dionysus)

"You could ask for help," Mr. D murmured to me, as if this were an amusing thought. "You could say please."

Bro, Percy was straight-up disrespectful from start to finish. AND STILL! Mr. D helped after one pathetic, low-effort "please"! COME ON!!! What are we even doing here!?

4) Gods can interfere if they feel like it (Apollo, Ares/Aphrodite)

He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred." "A god named Fred?" "Eh, well… Zeus insists on certain rules. Hands off, when there's a human quest. Even when something really major is wrong. But nobody messes with my baby sister. Nobody." "Can you help us, then?" "Shhh. I already have. Haven't you been looking outside?"

She made a tsk-tsk sound. "Percy, I'm on your side. I'm the reason you're here, after all." I stared at her. "What?" "The poisoned T-shirt the Stoll brothers gave Phoebe," she said. "Did you think that was an accident? Sending Blackjack to find you? Helping you sneak out of the camp?" "You did that?" "Of course! Because really, how boring these Hunters are! A quest for some monster, blah blah blah. Saving Artemis. Let her stay lost, I say. But a quest for true love—"

At least Apollo's motivation was out of love for his twin. Aphrodite's motivation was so shallow it's embarrassing. No wonder her cabin is such a disgrace.

I'm only looking at book 3 but Hera is a notable mention from book 4 and the sequel series as well.

Now let me mull over Hermes answering Luke's prayers -

With how bitter Luke has been towards Hermes, I doubt he was still praying to his father after his failed quest when Kronos began whispering to him. And that's being generous. I bet Luke stopped praying to his dad after he met him the first time.

But we know Luke prayed and asked Hermes for help as a kid:

"Why show yourself now?" Luke demanded. His shoulders were tense, as if he expected a fight. "All these years I've been calling to you, praying you'd show up, and nothing. You left me with her."

My problem here is that we see absolutely no evidence of Hermes ever helping Luke. I bet Hermes was probably guiding Luke subtly while he was on the run but that's up to speculation because I never saw any hints from the Diary of Luke Castellan. There were at least two moments where it could have been clear that Hermes was helping Luke:

How had I known to search for it? Perhaps my dad, Hermes, the jack-of-al-trades god, was guiding me, since he’s got a way with potions and alchemy. Perhaps I’d seen the recipe somewhere before, and searching the apartment had triggered that memory.

I tried to focus on my work. I didn’t realy know what I was doing, but I had no choice. Maybe Hermes was watching out for me, lending me some of his alchemy know-how. Or maybe I just got lucky.

I just wish the signs were a lot clearer in these scenes. We don't know if Luke truly got lucky - we don't attribute Percy's wild ideas and feats to Poseidon, do we? - or Hermes was nudging him. Could be both for all we know but Hermes never brings this moment up.

What prayers exactly had Hermes been answering? We'll never know!

I just think Luke got the short end of the stick. Sometimes I don't know whether Hermes' actions - or lack of - should be attributed to tragedy or Rick's bad writing. How can Hermes see the other gods interfering every other second and truly believe he can't do the same?

Luke baby, you deserved so much better.

[hughiecampbelle]

Cagey (Hughie Campbell Oneshot)

Character/s: Hughie

Word Count: 2,121

Listening To: Julianna by Zoe Stroupe

Trigger Warnings: sa/sa mention

A/N: Me writing about my issues again 😅 I'm so grateful to be home, but it's also really complicated, and my step dad just makes things hard. He's been really stressed out about his job, which makes him angry, and he's been taking it out on everyone like it's our fault. I told my Nana what he's said/done to me, but she said to just get through it to help my mum. I know that's what I'm supposed to do, but there wasn't even a second of understanding, yknow? It was hard opening up in the first place and now it feels like it's all my fault. I didn't deserve it though. I didn't. My family always talks about what he's done to my mum or my brother, and I know it's impossibly selfish, but I wonder what I did to make it seem to them like I deserved what he's done. Writing has been really hard lately and I'm just a big crybaby mess lol. Thank you for being patient my loves and just being there for me in general. 💓💘🩷💝💗💖💕

You weren’t always a bad dog. 

An unlikeable thing. All teeth and spit, gums and gore. They say you like the taste of blood, but they are wrong. They say it to make themselves feel better, to sleep better, to name you a monster. Weaned on fury and shame, you never had a chance. You gnaw at your wounds as a reminder of this, red pooling between your incisors. Constantly forgetting, little pup, believing what’s happened will not repeat itself. Surely, this will be the last time, you think, you convince yourself. They have proven this a lie so many times, but you choose to forget. Forgive. Pretend as if your scars have faded when they are gaping, screaming mouths across your skin. They are hungry and so are you. You bare your teeth in hopes that, one day, someone will see through the facade. See through the violence, the aggression. You fear (quietly – this want, as all wants are, are unspeakable) that no one will. You growl and stare and pant. No one is allowed to get close. The naive, the arrogant, place their fingertips in front of your lips. They believe themselves different. They have put their faith and trust into an animal that does not act rationally. In your eyes, they are all him. They are all hostile, explosive men who punish you for being born a rotten dog. Men who laugh when you cry. Men who make you believe you have done something wrong when all you have done is defend yourself, your blood. You don’t want to do this, you never have, but they must pay as you have. It’s the only justice you know how to serve. So, you open wide, tasting them. They think they have won. They think you have unlearned to be feral. And just as they begin to gloat, and just as they begin to grin, that is when you bite. That is when you sink your teeth into their fleshy, soft forearms and chew them to ribbons. To bits. That is when you give them a taste of their own medicine. And they will beat you, and they will berate you, and that is when you will go back to the familiar, your solitude, and curl into yourself and wait for the men to come again. For now, you are safe. For now, the danger has passed. 

They have not learned their lesson and neither have you. 

You are still a bad dog. Older now, your fur pale, your eyes tired, though (foolishly) just as forgiving. Just as forgetful. Someone, though, has finally seen right through you. Past your mouth, your sharpness, to your humility. Humanity. Your nakedness. He does not unlike you. He does not unlove you. You are not a pet or a plaything, but something beyond words. It’s the cynic in you, to seek like mindedness. To seek ruin. To be seen like that, like this – just as you are – is too much. Sometimes, you wish to bite and gnaw and scare him off. Bark and see if he backs away. Test the limits. You wish to be thrown back in that cage, to be screamed at, just to know he is like them. There is order in men like them, there is a sense of security in their cycles. Brace for impact. They all loved the way you flinched. But he does not. He has yet to do so. He has yet to flee. Instead, he sits. He waits. He cleans the wounds you have torn open in seeking the feeling of home. He offers what he can, unsure of how to put it in a language you can understand. Your mother tongue is violence. He does not reciprocate. He asks you questions, but does not expect answers. He never minds filling in the silences, the gaps, the cavities where your response should be. He is there through the messiness. He listens, patiently, starved for information. He watches you in awe. Here is someone wild, untamed, undomesticated. Here is someone who has no problem turning on others if it means keeping themselves in tact. And yet, you are still capable of love. You are still capable of caring. Slowly, you relearn. You wake each morning different than the day before. It's a long, painful process. Realizing how wrong it all was, how young you really were when it happened. It leaves you wondering what you might have turned out like if things were different, if they hadn't done what they did, taught you what they did. That it was your fault. That you were asking for it. You were a dog, but before that, before everything, you were just a little kid. A child. 

The thought will drive you mad, but you cannot help but wonder. 

 You drink too much, in need of help getting home. The room falls on its axis. The cracking, broken feeling in the middle of your chest has grown numb. Your thoughts, wasp-like, have settled into a deep sleep. Those drives are long and full of tears. They slip down your face easily, effortlessly, as if you were made to do it. You can’t hold them back. There’s no stopping them. Memories, flashbacks, they meld and mix, playing before your eyes. You talk yourself down. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. You ball your fists and suck in air. And in between breaths, and in-between gasps, small pieces of the story come out. You weren't born bad. Rotten, perhaps, but not bad. And certainly not a dog. There was a kindness to you, a self-sacrificing manner that let you lay in the road and wait to be struck, happy, eager to be killed so that others may survive. Those things happened, and you let him. Those things happened, and you didn’t say a word, afraid. Keep the peace, she told you. You thought that’s what you were doing. You hoped you were saving her from the truth, from reality, that you were his prey. His chew toy. And then, tired of the shame, you said something. But that still didn’t change anything. You became worse. Began growing claws and fur. Began sleeping in a cage. More men came after that, before them boys. They named you cagey, refusing to see the root of the issue. It's all my fault, you think, you feel, you say in desperate moments like this. It's all my fault. The sentence plays on loop. Thoughts. Thoughts of failure, of dread, of terrible things happening because you deserve them, because you exist. The first time it happened, he was startled. Shocked. Scared, even. In front of them you are quiet, and calm. You smiled and laughed when you were supposed to. You never let on. You listened, offering advice, a shoulder to cry on, expecting nothing in return. You have put that other side of you in a muzzle. Locked it away and threw away the key. At least, that’s what you thought. This is the real you, though. Drunk and crying, angry and feeling bad for getting angry. Your sharp edges have come out. Struggling to breathe. Grieving everything. Every loss, every touch, every word. Every last bit of you. 

Now he waits, he offers what comforts he can afford, he grabs your hand without ever taking his eyes off the road. The story is broken, fragile and frail, like the spine of a beloved book. The flimsy foundation paints a story of a man, a woman, and a child. A family of sorts. An unhappy one full of secrets, and blame, and anger. Not just bursts or sparks, but a fury only the sun could mimic. Somewhere between the beginning and now, you were created. Monstrous, you think, but he doesn’t see it that way. You used to be barefoot and wild hair. Unruly, but not feral. Wild. You don't know where that person went, but you miss them. You miss them every day. Unafraid. Now, when someone raises their voice, their hand, panic sets in. It picks up the beat of your heart. Pounding, thrashing, banging its head against the wall. You fear it will stop completely. It sends tingles down your arms and hands. They’re going numb. They’re detaching from you. Your stomach churns and flips, practicing her acrobatics. The middle of your chest has cracked open, a gaping wound where something crucial is missing. You can dig, and claw, but you will never find what it is you’re looking for. You clutch at the emptiness, grasping at nothing, hyperventilating, like the wounded dog you were made to be. Crybaby, you think. You vocalized this once, only once, because the despair and guilt in his expression was too much to face. You keep it to yourself. 

He squeezes your hand. He promises just a few more minutes (you will hit every red light). He will open the door for you, helping you out, up. He will walk you through the apartment and into your room. It is the same song and dance and yet, you expect something to happen. Something awful. He will hurt you or you will hurt him. You will forget yourself: you will growl and he will grow angry. He will kick you out. He won’t show up when the bar calls in the first place. He will mock, and scold, and laugh at your tears. Thousands of variations play out in your head, before your eyes, but not once have they ever come true. He will sit you down on the bed. Delicately, always asking first, he will pull your shirt over your head. He will untie your shoes and fold down your jeans. You will sit, exposed, wincing, waitting. He doesn’t act as they have. He isn’t greedy, he does not expect things from you because he has shown an ounce of kindness. He will appear just when you begin to worry, to become afraid, with something to sleep in, warm and soft and smelling of fabric softener. I put them in the dryer for a few minutes, he beams, and you are relieved. He is gentle, grazing you, your scars, just barely. His skin is warm. He smiles at you as if nothing has happened, as if you have not burdened him another night, as if you are not a mangy animal sitting on the clean bed you share, too drunk to dress yourself. Or, maybe not. You’ve done it in the past. Pick yourself up off the bathroom floor. Flung your clothes where they could no longer touch you. Slept violently in whatever you could find.

Maybe you just like the feeling of being taken care of. 

Come here, he says, and you feel like breaking. He pulls you into an embrace, wrapping himself around you. It’ll get better, he says, and he sounds so sure. You’re not sure why, but a small, sober part of you believed him. It will be. Eventually. When he lets go he moves towards the bed, undoing the blankets and duvet, placing the pillows just how you like. While you sink in, he grabs a glass of water, some painkillers, anything to help the hangover in the morning. He’s always doing that: trying to ease something in you. Worries mostly, but also illness, aches and pains, nightmares and panic attacks. You don’t want to bite him. You don’t want to scare him off. You don’t want to be put down because of your anger, your rage, your wrath. You want to be good. You want to deserve this, but even now, your thoughts muffled by the vodka, say you don’t deserve him or any kind of goodness. Before he leaves, his laptop opens in the living room, the tv quietly showing a different angle of another uninteresting Homelander interview, he kisses your forehead. He’ll stay up, work, and when the time comes to join you he will slip by your side. He won’t make the first move, instead he waits, but does not expect, until you roll over, nuzzling yourself into him. It’s his favorite part of the day.  When you wake in the morning you’ll watch him sleep, his chest rising and falling under your head. Hughie doesn’t look at you and see you as a bad dog. You’re neither bad nor a dog. You’re not feral, or cagey, or untamed. You’re not a mutt with claws and sharp, bloodstained teeth. You’re you. The person he loves. The person he shows every piece of himself to. The person he cares about most. A struggling person, sure, but that isn’t a moral failing.

And he’s right: it will get better. Perhaps slowly, perhaps painfully, but it will. It always will.

[truefakegirlfacts]

"C'mon, look at those tits!" said Megan. "Tell me you wouldn't turn back into a boy for the chance to play with those!"

"Oh yeah, absolutely!" replied Zoe.

Sophie stayed silent, still in shock at the direction the conversation had turned. When she had moved to the city, she had been so excited about the chance to meet more trans women. She was a bit surprised when her two new friends didn't care as much as her about being percieved exactly like a cis woman. They didn't hide some of their more male mannerisms and didn't always correct people who misgendered them. But after a few weeks of getting to know them, Sophie learnt to see the wisdom in this. It was stressful always worrying how others percieved you, and in truth she had realised that there were differences between trans women and cis women, and that was ok. Still, discussing which female celebrities and porn stars were hot enought to get you to detransition was, to Sophie, a step too far. How could they expect anyone to see them as women when...

"Soph? You still there?"

"Huh? Sorry, lost in thought. Did you ask me something?" she said, dreading that they might make her name some big-titted straight girl she'd willingly be the boyfriend of.

"C'mon Soph, a girl you'd detrans for? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. Every tgirl does. It's ok."

Was that right? Was Sophie just being uptight? The truth is, when she saw a hot girl, she did have to suppress thoughts she thought were unfeminine. Were her friends just being open about a side of themselves that she kept hidden? Her knowledge of celebrities was terrible, but she tried picturing herself as the boyfriend of actresses from films she'd seen. She imagined the envy other men would feel for her. She felt a stirring inside her, and another under her skirt. Still, she couldn't remember any of these women's names. Her horny mind soon turned to girls she knew personally. She flitted through friends and colleagues, imagining herself with them as a normal straight couple, and when one caused a particular swelling down below, she couldn't help but cry out her name.

"Emily!". She Covered her mouth, shocked that she couldn't contain her fantasies.

"Emily Howell? From your work?" asked Zoe. "Yeah, I can totally see that! Fuck, her ass..."

"Dude, she's single. You should totally ask her! And she's always going on about how she loves tall guys! I'm pretty sure you have a chance!"

"Yeah, with how much she says that, I'm pretty sure she's dropping hints."

Sophie tried to think of a reason to disagree with her friends, but couldn't. The vision of her as Emily's boyfriend was a life she'd given up on, but a life that still called to her. She could have the kind of relationship she'd been taught to want as a small boy. She felt a desire to try and make this vsion a reality, stronger than the one that had driven her to dransition in the first place.

"Ok! I'll text her!"

"Woo! Go get her dude!"

"You gonna send her a dick pic? That way she'll know you've given up on the girl thing."

"No no, send her a video of you flushing your E down the toilet. Show her you're commited!"

Sophie's head swam with thoughts of what he was about to do, but he felt a hope for the future that he hadn't felt in a long time.

[okaysonny]

so we all know that lookism more about action and fighting and we only have little romance in the webtoon… Do you think that ptj should add more romance in it? as of now we only have 4-5(??) canon ships (warrenxsally, miraxzach, sinuxyeonhui, vivixxiaolung, etc) personally i think i would like to see goo,vinjin and jake with a love interest that’s just for me tho, 😵‍💫😵‍💫what’s your opinion on this (sorry if i sound lanky i don’t know english that much)

Glad u asked. I'll be taking this opportunity to YAP. *hands you an essay*

do i think ptj should add more romance? yes! 😄

do i want him to be the one writing it? 😧 no

jk! (kind of) it's just clear romance isn't his forte. and that's fine! i actually don't think any of the canon ships are bad...aside from one 😑 i just don't feel strongly about them. YES I WILL BE ELABORATING

warren x sally: i don't care about this ship, because i don't care about these characters! cute, but...warren is a plain jane and sally's character got dumbed down after hostel arc imo

zack x mira: awww the first lookism pairing 😄 the library + cinema hang out in the beginning was so adorable ^_^ but 500+ chapters and they're still not official like alr...

also we don't see much of mira's character outside of fuelling zack's development. she went through a lot with the cult and the school camping arc...but we don't really see how she felt? so erm

sinu x yeonhui: honestly, no strong complaints. like that's parents! i would've liked to see how sinu started liking her, but that's if i'm really nitpicking

vivi x xiaolung: 😑 i was mad as HELL when they got a happy ending. even if we take away her diddy parties, he was literally brainwashed + fought to the death to become her guard?? xiaolung worships vivi because he doesn't know anything else! he doesn't know a normal life! so this is already problematic to begin with

and why the fawkkk was jake like "nooo xiaolung you'll make her cry 😠" like why would jake gaf?? 🤣😭 oh that made me cringe SO BAD! and howww is he saying all that as they're falling off a building i'm crying...i headcanon he just said this so xiaolung would make the fall softer in those 2 seconds so he wouldn't die

bracing myself for a moment where big deal has no strength and xiaolung pulls up and says to the enemy "don't get it twisted...we're not friends, but i have something to repay him for" ptj i'm familiar with your game.

+ mitsuki x ryuhei: looks like it'll become a thing but i HOPE NOT! they're both trash but at least ryuhei is likeable...my pookie deserves better :/

okay sorryyy back to the actual question.

yes i do want romance because it's cute + a change of pace is always good 😄

ptj defo has more romance lined up, just not for the moment.

if i'm thinking of the character closest to getting romance rn...i'm saying eli 🫡 rn he's just chilling with his fruits and is healing because he has that forgiveness from heather's mom

+ i think he just craves love and affection in general </3 ALSO...eli being the one to say he's worried about crystal at the start of busan arc was 🤨 definitely intentional when you remember his crush on her. make of that what you will...

men who i think are getting romance way down the line:

daniel - well...pretty obvious! it's zoe or no one. ptj only uses jay x daniel for queerbaiting ❤️

vasco - still has that thing with leon lee.

jake - ptj can show the contrast between him and gapryong in relation to women. anddd development where he doesn't feel tied to only being #1 + starts to forgive himself for his actions and yada yada. jake getting romance will also give funny scenes of jerry/big deal doing the absolute most + minseon meeting her.

and jake just exudes bf material! everyone wants to see it. ptj knows everyone wants to see it. i think it'll happen 😄

jake is a very big character though. do you make a female character to be his love interest or unexpectedly pair him with an existing one? but i think there's only 2 girls i can see him with. maybe 3 but the last option is very bad.

btw i'm not 100% against making new women and eventually pairing them up with the guys. but i just know ptj will do this in a way that's very CRINGE and OBVIOUS

johan - wheather with lua or someone else. this ship would piss me off less if lua wasn't banished to the sewers of all places 😭🤣

anddd johan is also healing + chilling in school. so he's in a better place for all that too. plus cute scenes of her meeting his mom/him asking her for girl advice like c'mon

hudson - i just have a feeling ❤️

and that's...really it imo. too much of anything is never good. not everyone needs a love interest! 😅 will ptj do their love lives justice? i have little faith, but we shall see...

and since you mentioned them anon, i'll give my opinion:

vin jin - he just has too much self growth to do. this the same guy who said he hits girls when they're ugly 🤯 it could happen, but it should happen after he redeems himself by apologising to duke + trying to be a better person.

and yeahhh you could have a love interest help him realise all that but 🙄 it's way better + more impactful if his redemption is from his own efforts.

goo - i just can't really see it sorry 😭 but we don't know much about goo, so maybe i'll change my mind after seeing his arc + actual goal in the story.

the only thing is figuring out where/when to put romance in lookism when you have that massive genre shift. i know ptj is stressedddd

[hangenderzoe]

I Want You (Hange x Reader)

summary: you save a stressed Hange Zoe from commander duties

tags: canonverse, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, pinning, hopeful ending, stressed hange zoe, spoilers, gender neutral reader, nonbinary hange

The land inside the walls is small. Everyone knows everyone. You were from the same hometown as Hange. They were a childhood friend who lived a few steps away from your house.

Young Hange Zoe, to put it simply, was a chatterbox. They loved talking about anything under the sun. They especially wouldn't shut up about the heroes of humanity, aka the survey corps. Their fascination and love towards the survey corps were contagious.

One day, they break the news that they will be joining the survey corps. It caught you off guard, but of course, it's the Hange Zoe. There is no other path that suits them better.

The thought of Hange leaving was gut-wrenching, but you were supportive of them nonetheless. Bidding your goodbyes and best wishes, you and Hange share a hug for what you thought was the last time.

Existing without them was dull. You missed the only person who brought some thrill to your life. To somewhat alleviate your sadness, you two remained in touch by exchanging letters.

Despite being a handwritten document, the letters make you feel as though Hange is still with you as the bright creature they are. You learn about the fascinating things about their job, the titans, their gear, and some silly stories about their peers. In a way, their letters make you feel included.

Years pass. Eventually, you realize that the walls are suffocating. You wanted to do something worth your time. Soon enough, you find yourself in the same spot as Hange, training, learning, and dedicating your heart to humanity.

To say Hange missed you is an understatement. During the time they were away, they longed for your presence; Yearning for the warmth and comfort you provide them. 

It wasn't long before Hange Zoe became the new commander. It was a big change for the survey corps. From hundreds of soldiers, to just a small team of youngsters.

Life has been devastating. To top it all off, witnessing Hange go from their bright and bubbly self to stern and grim is heartbreaking.

You watch days go by as Hange skips meals, sleep, and rest. They've locked themself at their office, finishing paperwork and working on research. It hurts to watch Hange waste away like this. There's nothing more you wanted to do but to help even just a little bit. However, seeing their state makes you fear that they would just push you away even more.

One day, you woke up to do your normal morning routine; Freshen up, change clothes, and eat breakfast. Uneventful as always, which was a wake up call for you. 

With heavy steps, you walk to Hange's office, an apple and a piece of bread in your hands. You contemplate knocking, but the door suddenly opens. It's Levi. He shut the door before confronting you, "What are you doing?". 

"I don't think Hange has eaten, so I brought these for them." You manage to blurt out. Levi eyes you up and down before walking away. "Go ahead."

You take a deep breath before entering the office, you forgo knocking which surprised the person slumped over the desk. You placed the apple and bread at the edge of their table which wasn’t scattered with papers and unfamiliar objects. Then, you leave the room. No formalities, no greetings, no words exchanged.

Lunch went by, you didn't even register that you didn't see Hange until dinner time. You realized that you’ve gotten used to their absence. Losing your appetite after the realization, you consider bringing them food again, risking the chance of seeming annoying to Hange. 

With a tray of food and a cup of water. You step inside Hange’s office once again. Noticing the state of the table, it was neater than when you last saw it. You place the meal on the table, away from the papers to avoid making a mess. You leave the office again without making conversation. 

Bringing them food has now become a routine. You have also become more mindful of the time, making sure you bring them something to eat for every meal of the day. 

It was another day, you brought Hange breakfast to their table until they hesitantly called your name. You face them with a smile. “Yes, commander?”. They groaned at the honorific. “Dude, shut up. Acting like we’re not childhood friends.” You lightly chuckle at that. “Well…?” You asked.

Hange took a quick glimpse of your face before looking away abashedly. “Can you um.. Can you maybe help me with these papers? Like categorize them? Of course you don’t have to. You might be busy-”. Hange rambled before you cut them off. “I’d love to help you, Hange! Of course, I can help you.”.

“Are you serious? I mean, really? You don’t have to-”. Hange continued to chatter, but you ignored them. Bringing a chair to sit in front of them to begin categorizing the papers which prompted Hange to stop blabbering. 

Silence filled the office until Hange began to speak again, “Thank you… really.”. You smiled, proud of yourself. “It’s nothing, Hange. You know I love to help you.”. I love being around you, is what you wanted to say. 

You’re almost finished when you think you hear your stomach rumble. “Um, Hange? I’m about to finish this soon. Do you want to eat lunch after?” Hesitation is written all over their face before giving you a meek nod. “Yeah, sure. You made my work lighter after all.”. Your face presented a grin, but you were celebrating and dancing in your head. 

Later that afternoon, you eat in comfortable silence in front of the commander. You can’t help but notice the way they brighten up just from stepping outside of their office. "Wow, I missed this.". They say as they chuckled heartily. 

"Yeah? You should take breaks, commander.". You said while gazing at them to see if they would react to the title you called them. "Well, cadet." They played along. "I just have so much work to do. I don’t have the luxury to even eat meals outside of my office anymore." They answer with a sigh. 

"I would love to help you, Commander Hange. With anything. May it be organizing your papers or assisting you with your experiments or research." 

"Are you sure?" They asked, frowning. "Yes, I would really love to.". 

i actually dont know what the fuck im doing but thanks for readinggg ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ divider by @/saradika

With soft eyes, Hange accepts your offer. "Thank you, y/n. I’m really grateful." Stuttering a little. You smile in response, finishing the last bits of your food.

[burning-academia-if]

Hello, I am mostly back and recovered at the time of writing this lol. June wasn't very productive writing wise (...for BA), which is fine because I needed that break! Look at everything I did do in June:

RELEASED CHAPTER 2 FINALLY

Spent like 2 weeks fixing bugs (dw chapter 3 I'll get beta readers so it doesn't happen again LOL)

Participated in the Raffle for Palestine + wrote and sent out the story to the winner!

Wrote about 5k words of Chapter 3

Wrote and edited Zoe's back story

Wrote most of Lars back story because I was inspired (sorry you won't get this until after Chapter 3 drops)

I'm pretty happy to have released Chapter 2! I'm gonna be honest, this felt like such a daunting release lol When I started BA, I was expecting no one to read it save for a handful of people and I'd just be chilling and writing mostly for myself like usual, so releasing it with over 1.5k followers was very daunting. With that said, I am glad people overall enjoyed the new chapter! The plan is for Chapter 3 not to take as long, but life is still hectic so we'll see. At the very least, it hopefully won't be any later then October (BA's one year anniversary month!).

I also just want to give another shout out to everyone who participated in the raffle for Palestine! Raising over two thousand euros in two weeks is still amazing to me, and I'm happy the IF community could come together like this to help out a cause! This was lowkey another thing I was nervous about since I've never really done anything that's felt like a personal commission before (asks definitely feel different lol), but other then my initial nerves the whole thing was a really nice experience!

Now, going into July, I want to focus on the UI updates I want to make. I have some things I want to shift around and change, and since coding is my biggest weakness I know it's one of those things I'm going to have to focus on. If things go well, I'm hoping to do a pure UI update by August. It'll mostly be the menu pages (achievements/stats/relationships/etc), but there are a few other things I want to add in and adjust outside of it. As for Zoe's backstory, that should be out soon, so keep an eye out of that! Finally, I also might not be too active in July. For personal reasons, July is always a hard month for me. Hopefully it isn't obvious, but just in case I'm not around as much as usual, that's why!

OH and before I forget, here's this month's chapter preview ft Angry Rook:

Lastly, I made the questionable decision to make a side IF. Updates will be very sporadic since BA is and will always be my main project until its completion. But if you want to follow it, it's To Taste Sweet Silver. An 18+ gaslamp fantasy about trying to steal the Fruit of the Old Gods in order to bring the world to an end. It's a little more niche I think, but feel free to check it out! The demo shouldn't take too long to get out since I did accidentally write most of opening already.