#logistics is real and can hurt you
Text
Vampire Pancakes
A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire
🥞🫐
No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.
Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.
Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.
Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.
"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"
Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.
"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."
So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.
Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.
Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.
Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.
He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.
🥞🫐
It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.
"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.
"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.
"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.
Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.
He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.
"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.
"Not even a little."
Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.
"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.
"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"
"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.
"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.
"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."
Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.
"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.
"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
🥞🫐
In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.
The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.
Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.
He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.
"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.
"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.
"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.
Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.
"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.
"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.
"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.
Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."
And it feels like things are gonna be okay.
#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve x eddie#steddie fluff#soft steve harrington#steve harrington is a sweetheart#kas eddie munson#vampire eddie munson#vampire eddie x steve#writing prompt#steddie microfic
876 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do You Remember
Fandom: MCU
Title: Do You Remember
Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader
Word Count: 460
Summary: You belong to him.
Content Warnings: monster fucking, vaginal sex
Logistical Notes: For the @bucks-and-noble Summer Send Off event. Using lyrics from the song "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire for some of the thematic elements (bolded).
Additional Notes: Follow up to Sacrificial but just a moody smutty drabble that can be read without context.
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
As tangible as your surroundings were – the dirt, the lush green jungle, the sounds of exotic birds whose song was now so familiar – the situation hardly seemed real, and your brain didn’t know what to make of your waking state. Dream or nightmare?
Many mornings you woke from golden dreams that bled into shiny days.
Some mornings you awoke troubled, and he was always too perceptive and knew. And he didn’t let you stay troubled if he could help it.
He was very clear that he wanted you happy and content. How could you not be? This is still what you wanted, what you signed up for. What did you lack? Nothing. Your contract was essentially being fulfilled. You had pledged to three years of research. You wanted for nothing in your lab for research. You had known it would be remote, had agreed to being cut off from the rest of the world due to your remote location in the Amazon.
That you were his and that it was clear you were not to leave – would never be able to leave, why would you want to leave, little lamb? – was not part of the agreement.
And when it was like this, your clothes torn off to the side, with your fingers digging into the dirt beneath your palms, on hands and knees, with his hulking form kneeling over you, his bare chest pressing against your naked back, and his thick cock pressing into your stretched and slick canal, your hips pressed back against him, it was hard to remember why you would want to leave.
“Yes, lamb, it doesn’t hurt, does it? You take my cock so beautifully now, make such pretty noises, and I can have you anywhere. Your body is so willing to take me. You were that first day, and you have been every day since.”
You whimpered helplessly. He was right.
As terrified as you had been when the figure of the minotaur had appeared to claim you as the village’s sacrifice, you had also easily become his. Your body craved him now.
It doesn’t matter that you’re naked being fucked by this half-man, half-beast in the rain forest. No one will find you. You’re certain of that.
One of his rough hands came to your chest and he groped your left breast before tweaking the nipple painfully. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” you yipped. He knew how to ply your body and make you desperate for him, and that was more dangerous than his mere existence as the beast that he was.
Body trembling beneath him as he railed you in a state of nearly mindless pleasure, you couldn’t remember if you wanted this or not. Do you remember anything before this? Before him? Before this September? Was there anything before him? He’s giving you nearly everything. Do you remember? What else would there be to remember in comparison to this?
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
Commentary/additional pieces on the Minotaur!Bucky saga:
"haunting thoughts" on THIS PIECE for the Dark Forest Fest
"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest
brief insight into what reader's life is like now
physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky
easy and challenging parts of writing the fic
the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#minotaur x reader#minotaur au#terato#aspen wrote something#bnsummersendoff#female reader
391 notes
·
View notes
Text
I post a lot about self-soothing and working on needing reassurance. And while it’s important to do, it doesn’t mean that’s how it always has to be.
I try self soothing first. Sometimes with my best friend, I know my feelings at her aren’t her fault. It’s something small that’s triggered insecurity even though I know it’s not rational. And I try to deal with the feelings myself first. But sometimes I can’t. And it’s okay.
In these cases, I usually go to her. I’ll tell her “I know it’s not rational and it’s not your fault. But I’m having feelings about x, y and z”. If possible, I’ll tell her what I’m looking for (like reassurance).
She’s always very happy to offer me that reassurance. She knows that I’ve come so far and worked hard and if she can reassure me, she’s often happy to in order to make it easier for me.
I’m going to share my most recent example under the read more for a real life example of how I applied this.
But my overall point is that it is absolutely okay to ask for reassurance and sometimes you need to. It’s just important to do it in a healthy way.
A few weeks ago, she was overwhelmed and busy. I offered to watch her dog for her while she was working. I didn’t get a response back because she was thinking about it.
And then I found out someone else was watching her dog.
I felt a lot of confusing emotions. I felt angry. I also felt insecure, like she didn’t trust me. I was frustrated at her and the person now watching her dog. I felt jealous.
I used skills to try and cope with these feelings. I didn’t lash out at her. I tried using logic to suggest alternatives to myself. Perhaps it wasn’t personal that she picked someone else. Maybe it was for logistical reasons. It was probably just easier for her.
I tried to sleep on it, but the feelings were growing. No matter what coping skills I used. Sometimes, the coping skills don’t work to self soothe or talk myself through it.
I was feeling annoyed for small things and I knew that it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t done something wrong. But I decided to talk to her about it. I didn’t want the feelings growing and causing issues and they weren’t going to sort themselves out.
Here are copy and pastes from our actual conversation :
Me: My explanation for feeling hurt is that **** told me she was taking Storm and I felt hurt because I offered twice and you didn’t respond at all to it. It made me feel like I did something wrong to break your trust. I am really emotionally sensitive right now and I know I’m having an *extremely* heightened emotional reaction to it but I can’t seem to let go of the bad feelings. And I know it’s not your fault. But also it just feels bad and I feel like I need to tell you about these feelings because I can’t let them go on my own. I could really use some reassurance.
Her: That’s so valid.
If context helps you feel less BPD, I was actually trying to figure whether to leave Storm at home or bring her to you but I needed to know my new start time at work with the new schedule before I’d know if I could make the timing work to drop her off with you after the ferry.
Then *** was sad about the breakup with *** and I offered to lend her Storm as an emotional support animal. I know she really struggles with being alone when she is sad. And I decided I could do without my dog temporarily. I can see how it would’ve seemed like I preferred having **** watch Storm.
But your BPD is very valid, I probably would’ve felt the same way under the circumstances. I hope you have a great day and I hope you know I love you. Also that I think you’re great with dogs and would have 100% wanted you to watch Storm this week.
-
( The name of the person watching her dog are blacked out for privacy reasons.) While she didn’t need to share the context, she chose to do that so she could better offer reassurance. I also want to point out that she validated my feelings. My emotional reaction was heightened but she still validated me. She also then offered reassurance for my specific concern (that I wasn’t trusted). She was patient and understanding. I was valid to need reassurance but her reaction to it was super valid and why it felt so safe to seek reassurance from her.
231 notes
·
View notes
Note
In the debate between pro-aang-kill-ozai and anti-aang-kill-ozai. Which side are you on and why? If it's the anti then did you like how it was done or do you picture something else?
I think I've mentioned before, but I am not inherently against Aang not wanting to kill Ozai. Some of my favorite heroes have a no-kill policy. I don't even mind the lionturtle solution itself. What I didn't like was how it was handled. There was plenty of time to address Aang's reluctance to kill before the second to last episode. I can think of three points in particular where it would've been thematically appropriate and given Aang's bland, two-dimensional character some depth.
First, right after the siege at the Northern Tribe. Aang may not have technically been the one who killed all those Fire Nation soldiers, but it couldn't have happened without him. You would think that someone who is both committed to pacifism and also the one the entire world is relying on to end a war that people have been fighting and dying in for a century wouldn't just be able to shrug off what happened. Aang did, though. Didn't even cross his mind when he was whining about people expecting him to kill Ozai.
What should have happened was the next season should've opened with Aang grappling with what happened and his part in it. He should feel guilty about it, not because he was actually wrong, but because it should feel wrong to him. Then, Katara and Sokka should comfort him and tell him he did nothing wrong. Build it up that their word are comforting him a little, then drop the bomb when they start talking about how cool it was. How amazing it was to see all those soldiers running in fear for once. How relieved they are that so many of them died. Then have Aang snap on them about the sanctity of life. He needs to be angry and hurt, and this should be the point where he decries the powers of the Avatar. He'd call himself a monster, and maybe he would call Katara and Sokka monsters, too. Then they (probably mostly Sokka) would argue with him that they aren't monsters, they're just trying to survive, and the Fire Nation is a threat to be taken out. This would be the first time it's brought up that Katara, Sokka...the entire world expect Aang to kill Ozai. I think it would be perfect as a season 2 opener. Season 1 was light and goofy, and Zuko was their biggest immediate threat. The siege raised the stakes, and season 2 should continue on that rising. Aang should also have started looking for another solution here. In the library, Aang should've asked Wan Shi Tong if it was possible to end the war without more violence. We should've seen Aang coming to terms with the fact that the world is suffering and he is the one they are looking to to save them. One thing I think the Harry Potter movies in particular did well was that shift from goofy and whimsical to darker and more frightening (as far as kids movies go) as the story went on and the stakes got higher, and the danger felt more real to the characters. Aang never gets that realization. He has moments when the danger feels real, but he's goofy and whimsical for pretty much the entire series until the plot of an episode needs him not to be.
The second place they should have brought up his reluctance to kill was DoBS. This really should've been a no brainer. Aang was loosing sleep over facing Ozai. He had his anxiety about losing- though not really what losing would mean for his friends and the world- but he didn't even consider what winning would take. If DoBS had been successful, there's no way Ozai would've been able to be taken alive. Logistically, killing him would've been the easiest, safest option. You mean to tell me no one brought it up? No one asked Aang how he was planning to take Ozai out? No, instead we get Aang proving he knows what enthusiastic consent looks like and taking away his excuse for what happened later, but nothing about Aang weighing his personal beliefs against the needs of the world. That training montage and confrontation that he has with his friends in the second to last episode should've happened here. This should've been when his tendency to run away should've been challenged, too, because half a season before he was crying about how he abandoned the world again. Now his instinct would be to run, but his friends would challenge him, calling back to that moment. They could demand that he present an alternative to killing Ozai. I don't think any of them would object to him living to stand trial, but Ozai is a rabid dog, essentially. He needs to be put down. Aang's got nothing, but not for lack of trying. When he tells his friends about all his efforts to find a non-lethal way to defeat Ozai, they are unmoved. They are at the doors of the Fire Nation, and now is not the time to be indecisive. He has to go face Ozai. And he's probably relieved when the plan fails. This whole situation would have the added bonus of skipping that first Kataang kiss because no way would Aang want to kiss Katara after her insisting he terminate Ozai with extreme prejudice.
The third place Aang's no-kill policy should've come up is TSR when Zuko asks him what he's planning to do when he faces Ozai if he's so against killing. This should scare Aang, and it should be his focus for the rest of the season. He should be more withdrawn from his friends, because with all the training he's doing (and he would still be training on all the elements because he's not that good at any of them), talks about the most efficient way to kill would be unavoidable. Katara might actually try to teach him bloodbending. Toph would just tell him that a big rock is just as effective as some fancy bending move. Zuko would be warning him about his father's ruthlessness and cunning. This would be where Aang looses his patience with his friends and insists that he's a pacifist and Ozai doesn't deserve to die. This would piss Katara in particular off because by this point, Aang knows what happened to her mother. He would get an earful about how Ozai's plan is to do to the Earth Kingdom what his grandfather did to the Air Nomads and how he's going to let millions of people die because of his refusal to kill one. Now, Aang can take off, only instead of just running away from his friends because he doesn't want to hear them anymore, he could be making one desperate last ditch attempt to find a solution that both ends the war and keeps him from having to kill Ozai. EIP could still happen in this circumstance, but instead of getting mad that he's being played by a girl, he would focus more on how eager for his death the Fire Nation is. That would come up in the argument about killing Ozai.
Now, for the lionturtle. I'm about to blow some minds. I have been vocal about my hatred of the Lionturtle/Rock of Destiny desu-ex-double team, and I do still hate it with a passion. However, as a concept, I don't mind the lionturtle. This is a fantasy adventure. You expect a bit of magical intervention. What I wanted was Aang grappling with this problem for more than half an episode. I wanted him working on a solution the entire time, starting from right after the siege. I wanted to see him take initiative. To actually think about the problem. Maybe have him specifically looking for the lionturtle. Then when it shows it, it could be because it knew Aang was looking and decided he was worthy of a meeting. Aang could still have his meeting with his past lives, and that could still go the way it did. Then the lionturtle could speak up. Instead of poo-pooing the idea of killing Ozai, it could agree that it was the most effective way to make sure that the war would end. Then, when Aang is despairing that he'd wasted all that time trying to find a different solution, the lionturtle could offer the spirit bending. But it would have to come at a cost, and it might not work the way that Aang hoped. Now Aang has to make a choice. Sacrifice something for this spiritbending ability (I'm thinking he loses his airbending, because it seems poetic) that might not have the outcome he's hoping for, or give up his pacifism- one of his few connections to his heritage- and kill Ozai. He chooses the spiritbending. Instead of the conveniently placed rock, Aang would actually have to give up his attachment Katara. I think he would be half-way there, having finally realized how little he understood her. He "loved" her because she was pretty and took care of him, but he's come to realize there's a lot more facets to her that he hasn't gotten to see because they don't fit his narrow view of her. He also understands what Guru Pathik was trying to tell him about one person not being able to replace everything Aang has lost, and he realizes how unfair to her he had been. He still loves her, but as a friend and caretaker. This will actually lead to a deeper friendship between them. Aang defeats Ozai without killing him, but now he has to deal with the loss of his airbending, which only now does he realize was a much of a connection between him and his people as his beliefs. He still has spiritbending. He can still airbend in the Avatar State, but he's effectively cut off a limb to keep his integrity. He will go the rest of his life wondering if it was worth it, especially after Ozai goes to trial and is sentenced to execution anyway. The effects of that on his children could be explored in LoK.
TL;DR I don't have a problem with Aang not wanting to kill Ozai. I just wanted to see him deal with it before the last minute. I think the show would've been better for it, and Aang would've been a more interesting character.
#atla#anti-kataang#aang#how it COULD have gone#he would've been a much better protagonist if we actually saw him struggle with his destiny#spiritbending should have consequences#that's too much of a power up to just give to the hero#and ozai should still die#it just doesn't have to be at aang's hands#THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 3: Shades of Grey
Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6
That's the thing about illicit affairs (they lie and they lie and they lie)
(In which a masochistic writer makes things difficult for herself and makes things even messier than they were before)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Pining, a little bit of Hurt/Comfort and Fluff as always
Words: 7.2K (nice and short as always)
TW: Explicit Sexual Content (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Cheating
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I feel like I'm doing a pretty good job of sticking to my deadlines, who woulda thunk it? Fun fact, I'm at ~ 50 google-doc pages with this fic and despite my constant "trying to write less" rants, I'm actually lowkey proud of that. Anyways, there's a pretty clear hint (I am not a subtle person) as to why what happens at the end happens and if you pick up on it, I promise it'll save you from losing your minds till I write part 4. Also a couple of logistical details about the Cayman Islands are probably off but it's what worked so it's what I did, just pretend lol. Per usual, I did edit, there's probably still typos any way, feel free to point them out. 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 and have a wonderful rest of your week lovelies!
August 2021
The fight was inevitable but neither of them can tell you what really lit the flame. One second they had been fine (well as fine as two girls who knew tonight was their last night in a while could be), the next they were hurling bullets at each other. There’s a subconscious part of Azzi’s brain that tells her to grab Paige and duck for cover, to preserve whatever little bit of friendship they can. But her whole body vibrates with anger as Paige’s words crash around her like a tsunami, drowning out the good angel on her shoulder that’s pleading with her to stop.
“It’s a good thing really. You and your non-existent nerves would have never survived playing for UConn,” Paige sneers, and that mean smirk on her face just doesn’t quite fit right, “I don’t know what I was thinking with that honestly. You’re not built like that.”
Azzi flinches, eyes blazing, “some of us want to be more than just another good UConn player.”
“That’s what all the people not good enough to play for UConn say,” Paige retorts bitterly and Azzi doesn’t think she knows this girl standing in front of her, one whose words are aimed to make her cry instead of laugh.
“Not good enough and yet you still wanted me on your team.”
“Nah you know what, my bad, I didn’t realise you’d fucking stab me in the back like that, ” Paige hisses, “you’re a fake as fuck friend and you’d probably make a shit teammate.”
Azzi’s never had a heart attack. She doesn’t even fully think she knows what a heart attack really is. But she’s certain this pain in her chest can’t possibly be anything less than one. It starts at her heart and then spreads to her lungs and then floods through her body, until she can’t move, she can’t breathe.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.
Paige hesitates, as if suddenly aware of the fragility of the moment, her voice considerably softer when she speaks but she doesn’t take it back, “ real friends choose each other.”
“Oh my god,” Azzi laughs, it’s the worst thing she could do in the moment and Paige’s eyes flash with anger, “you’re so fucking full of yourself.”
“Watch your fucking mouth-”
“Don’t you even dare. You say all that shit to me and now you can’t hear some of it back? Contrary to what you might think Paige, my whole life doesn’t revolve around you. My decision for where to spend the next four fucking years, does not revolve around you,” Azzi’s voice rises with each word.
Fighting is cathartic in a way. They’ve spent almost a year delicately tip-toeing around the subject, growing further and further apart and yet still holding on for dear life. And Azzi doesn’t want to let go, but everything feels burning hot, and her hands are starting to blister.
“Oh you’ve made that very clear,” Paige bites back, “you’ve made it very clear just how little I mean to you.”
“Because I chose a different school? That’s all it took Paige, seriously? That’s all it took for you to call our friendship fake?”
“No what it took Azzi was you being a fucking liar.”
“I didn’t lie about anything.”
Paige scoffs, her voice taking on a pitchy mocking tone, “ ‘I’d love to play with you Paige’, ‘being on the same team would be nice P’, all of that fucking bullshit when you didn’t mean any of it.”
“Oh we’re playing that game,” Azzi seethes, “how about ‘Az I’d support you no matter what’ huh? Where did all of that go?”
“Maybe if you didn’t make stupid decisions then.”
“No, actually choosing not to play with you might have been my smartest decision yet,” as soon as the words are out, there’s a part of Azzi that wishes she could wrench them back in.
“Right,” Paige’s voice is eerily quiet now, “well I hope that works out well for you then. Go to UCLA Azzi, have a great fucking life and stay the fuck away from mine.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Azzi takes a cautious step towards the blonde and almost immediately, Paige steps backwards, her expression suddenly blank. The change to indifference is somehow worse than the previous malice, “Paige-”
“Fuck this, I’m going home,” Paige says resolutely, her fingers fidgeting with themselves as she reaches for her phone and wallet.
“We need to talk this out, we need to try and fix this,” Azzi all but pleads, trying to position herself in front of the persistent older girl who’s trying to make her way to the door.
“I don’t know if I want to fucking fix this,” Paige yells, shaking away Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, “I don’t know if it’s worth it,” her voice breaks as she says the next words, “I don’t even think I wanna be friends.”
When Azzi’s 14, Paige Bueckers dribbles through a USA basketball camp court straight into her life and teaches her all about how one person can come into your life and carve out a permanent shelf. When Azzi’s 16, Paige’s casual smiles and not-so-insignificant touches teach her all about the complicated space in-between just friends and something more. When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most. And that’s the day Azzi makes a promise to herself that she’ll never give someone that part of herself again, unaware that when she’s 20, Paige will teach her that some promises are meant to be broken.
***
July 2023
Azzi doesn’t know what god she pissed off to get herself into this position, stuck in a booth with Zoe on one side and Paige on the other. Her girlfriend’s left hand is placed firmly on her thigh and Azzi has to fight the vehement urge to shake it away because Zoe’s normally soft, sweet touch feels itchy and heavy. But the way Paige’s biceps are pressed against hers might be even worse. Every time the blonde moves a little, the sliding of her smooth skin against Azzi’s arms, sends a jolt of electricity through her veins. And Azzi doesn’t know when she became that girl, the girl who already has someone to hold her but is desperately craving somebody else’s touch.
When people’s girlfriends surprise them with an unexpected visit, the appropriate reaction is to be overwhelmed with happiness. Except since she’d met her, Azzi’s summers have always belonged to Paige. With them having lived in separate states most of their lives, it was the one time they got to be with each other for an extended period of time. It was an unspoken rule really, one that they had subconsciously still followed the year before when Azzi had shown up at Paige’s door, even if they’d only gotten the last couple of weeks of the season; summer was theirs. So, when Zoe had shown up that afternoon with a bright smile and shining eyes, all Azzi had been able to register was a sense of loss as Paige pulled her hand out of Azzi’s.
Introductions had been somewhat awkward. Her parents knew of Zoe, but hadn’t met her yet. They were nice of course, her dad pulling the shorter girl into one of his bear hugs and her mom giving her a warm smile. Jon and José were more awkward, nodding their greetings but making no move to actually welcome her. Paige had managed to muster up a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shake the other girl’s outstretched hand. And then there was Drew, whose normally goofy smile seemed to have disappeared.
“Who are you?” the young boy had asked quizzically, his eyebrows crinkling together.
“Oh umm, I’m uh- Azzi’s girlfriend,” Zoe had replied, the last word causing Paige to involuntarily flinch.
Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.”
“Is that so?” Zoe hummed, clearly not taking him seriously.
“It is,” Drew had said petulantly, ignoring Paige’s warning squeeze, “she’s Paige’s.”
The silence after had been deafening, as Azzi tried to stop herself from choking on air. Eventually Paige had regained her senses first, apologising for her younger brother’s lack of filter (“he says stupid things all the time”) and then Azzi’s dad had swooped in before things could possibly get any more awkward, proposing that they all go out to dinner. And that’s how Azzi has ended up here, shuffled in a booth, opposite her parents, with Paige on one side and Zoe on the other. Life really and truly isn’t on her side these days.
“So girls, what are y’all pizza orders?” Tim asks jovially. Azzi’s brothers and Drew, desperate to go enjoy the sun (and avoid Zoe), had already told them their orders before zooming to the park right outside the restaurant.
“Oh uh- Az you wanna share a Margherita pizza?”
“Azzi and I’ll just have our usual.”
It’s as if the world wants Azzi to suffer as both Zoe and Paige immediately look at her expectantly. The girl in question keeps her eyes focused on the menu in front of her, unsure how to best handle this predicament by doing anything other than maybe just running out of the restaurant.
“What’s your usual?” Zoe asks, her voice all curiosity and no ill-intent.
“Grilled chicken and bacon with spinach and onions.”
“But Azzi doesn’t like onions, she says they make-”
“They make her breath smell I know,” there’s a hard edge to Paige’s voice, “but she-”
“She can’t pick them off. She can’t pick anything off of her pizza because it takes-”
“It takes the cheese off, I know that too. That’s not what I was going to say. She doesn’t eat them because she thinks they make her breath smell but she does like them. It’s just-,” Paige’s eyes flare with mischief, “she only eats them around people who are close to her. Guess you’re not quite there yet.”
Since Azzi had mustered up the courage to finally tell Paige about Zoe, right before summer break started, Paige had been nothing but respectful, supportive even. Until tonight apparently and Azzi doesn’t even know to react to the fact that her best friend has started a pissing contest over fucking onions.
“Right,” Zoe bites her lips, her ever-present smile slipping slightly as she slowly pries the menu out of Azzi’s hands and looks at her with hopefully eyes, “but we’ll get the Margherita tonight babe?”
“I-” and Azzi really should say yes, side with Zoe like the good girlfriend she is, except, well, all she can think about is that Paige hasn’t smiled since the California girl had arrived in D.C., “I think um- I’ll stick to my usual Zo, I’m sorry.”
She’s a terrible girlfriend, because immediately Zoe’s smile fades, and Azzi barely notices it, too busy watching Paige’s grin light up her face. Her baby blue eyes sparkle as if she’s won some important battle and it’s not even dark yet, but Azzi swears it feels like the stars have come out.
“Okay,” Tim says slowly, looking between the three younger girls, as he waives over the waitress, “if that’s decided then.”
The issue with Paige being pretty, is that nobody’s really immune to it, including the cheerful waitress that practically skips over to serve them. Her eyes glaze over a little bit as they roam across the blonde’s face and then to her arms before drifting down to her torso. Paige’s tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, exposing both her muscled biceps and toned torso and Azzi doesn’t need an x-ray to know the widely appropriate thoughts going through the waitress’s head. The feral roar of mine takes birth in her stomach and the quieting whisper of she’s not does little to subdue it.
“I’m Libby,” the waitress says, tongue darting across her lips, eyes solely focused on Paige, “and I’ll be your server today.”
Libby collects orders dutifully, polite and agreeable, but doesn’t once fully look away from the blonde, practically drooling once she finally gets to her, “and what can I get for you to drink babe?”
Azzi’s not sure whether it’s the sultry tone or the nickname that gets Paige’s attention, but all of a sudden her best friend is staring up at the waitress with her own flirty smile. She likes to think she’s not a particularly violent person, but Azzi thinks she might end up in jail for homicide tonight.
“Well babe,” Paige winks, Azzi wants to die, “what would you recommend?”
Libby smirks, clearly feeling triumphant as she leans on the table, one hand reaching out to brush Paige’s forearm, “sex on the beach.”
Several things happen at once. Tim chokes on a breadstick. Katie immediately thumps him on the back. Zoe lets out a laugh. Azzi’s nails break the skin of her palm, drawing blood as she fists both of hands. And then-
“She has a girlfriend,” it’s a blatantly untrue but all Azzi can think about is stopping this random girl from eye-fucking her Paige. It does the trick, Libby’s eyes go comically wide, as she steps back from the table, from Paige.
“She does?” Tim asks. Next to him, Katie, shoots her daughter a knowing look that veers on the edge of disappointment.
Azzi stutters under the heat of Paige’s glare, the blonde clearly unamused by her lie, “I uh- I mean um- it’s not official but um yeah,” she doesn’t even sound convincing to herself, “I’m uh- I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”
She practically shoves Paige out of the booth so she can climb out of it herself, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her heart hammers in her chest and she tries to block out the sound of Paige’s being questioned by her dad, as she rushes into the restroom.
There’s no amount of water she could splash on her face to make this heat go away, but she tries anyway, unsure of when the tap water starts to blend in with the tears streaming down her face. The unsettling anger of how dare she flirt with another girl beating in her heart is replaced by the guilt of i’m not allowed to feel this way thrashing around her rib cage. It hurts all the same, as Azzi clutches her chest, trying to even out her breathing.
She doesn’t hear the door open or close until, “What the fuck was that?”
“Get out,” Azzi whispers, closing her eyes and leaning her head on the mirror, “just give me a second okay?”
“Oh no, no, no, you owe me a huge fucking explanation right now,” Paige hisses, “what the fuck was that bullshit? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“It was a joke-” before Azzi can even finish the sentence, there’s a hand on her biceps, forcing her to turn around. When she opens her eyes, Paige’s face is far too close to her own and when she tries to move back, she’s trapped with the cool edge of the sink. It’s too much, the proximity, the tension, the lingering touch of Paige’s fingers curled around her arm.
“Stop lying,” Paige bites out.
“It just slipped out babe,” and fuck, Azzi absolutely hadn’t meant to add that last part, hadn’t meant to make it so obvious what exactly had triggered her little outburst. Realisation flashes across Paige’s face, as she takes a step back, letting go of Azzi, and the distance should be freeing, but instead it just makes her feel lost.
“That’s what this is about?” the blonde asks in disbelief.
“Yes- no- I don’t know, okay,” Azzi’s voice is high-pitched, “I’m sorry okay. I’ll tell the waitress it was a joke,” she lets out a humourless laugh, “I didn’t mean to fucking cockblock you.”
“Cockblock me? Dude I wasn’t trying to fuck the waitress what the fuck?”
“Could’ve fooled me babe,” Azzi sneers.
Something menacing flashes in Paige’s eyes, “stop calling me that.”
“What? You don’t like me calling you babe. You didn’t seem to have a problem when it was her.”
“Oh my fucking god Azzi,” Paige throws her hands up, “you don’t get to do this. Not when your girlfriend is sitting right there.”
The reminder of Zoe is like being splashed with cold water and Azzi feels everything inside of her freeze. She grips the edge of the sink, trying to find some semblance of balance as Paige continues to glare at her.
“For the past few hours, I have had to hear your girlfriend call you every fucking nickname in the book. I have had to watch her kiss you and move your hair back and grip your fucking knee under the table,” with every sentence, Paige inches closer and closer, until she’s accentuating every word by pushing her index finger into Azzi’s chest, “and you can’t even fucking deal with me calling some other girl babe?”
“Paige,” Azzi whispers when Paige’s voice breaks on the last word. Their faces are so close, she can feel the other girl’s uneven breathing all over her skin. And it takes everything in her to not cave in and reach a hand out to caress away the tear that's threatening to fall from the blonde’s tearline.
“It’s been hell Azzi,” Paige spits out, “so you don’t get to be upset if I want to fuck someone-”
Something snaps and before Paige can complete the offending sentence, before she can imprint an image that will forever haunt Azzi’s mind, Azzi silences all the warning bells of why she really shouldn’t, and pulls her best friend into a searing kiss. Immediately, Paige’s hands come to rest against Azzi’s hips, pressing her firmly against the edge of the sink. It’s as if they’re trying to meld their bodies together, both of them gripping each other as close as possible. Outside, it’s a summer evening of clear blue skies, but here in this random restaurant restroom, lightning strikes.
Paige bites at Azzi’s bottom lip and then traces her tongue over the bruise she’s created, smirking when it elicits a gasp from the younger girl. Lips still firmly moving against Azzi’s, her hands work expertly on the buttons of Azzi’s tight shorts. The sensation of everything Paige is all-consuming and Azzi feels like she’s drunk on the taste of her best friend’s skin, as she moves away from Paige’s lips, to pepper kisses on her neck, before moving down to suck a mark into her collarbone. Mine, mine, mine.
“Fuck Az,” Paige moans when Azzi’s teeth grate against her skin and it’s the brunette’s turn to smirk. But her cockiness is short-lived when Paige’s fingers finally find their way into her now unbuttoned shorts. They press down on her clit through her underwear, making her whine.
A cry of “Paige,” escapes her lips when the blonde slides Azzi’s panties to the side, her middle and index finger beginning to rub circles around the younger girl’s clit in a tantalisingly slow rhythm.
“So wet, so fucking wet for me,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with want, as she brings her free hand to cup Azzi’s jaw, forcing her best friend to look her in the eyes. It scares Azzi, the sheer amount of emotion she can see swirling in the blonde’s eyes. There’s lust and then there’s something else, another l-word that she can’t bring herself to acknowledge, knowing it’ll ruin her, ruin them.
“Please,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, as the older girl’s fingers slip from her clit to tease against her soaking entrance, dipping into her folds but not giving her what she wants.
“If you want something baby,” Paige traces Azzi’s lips with her thumb, “you have to ask for it.”
Azzi's hands moved away from where they had been firmly gripping Paige’s waist, to wrap around her neck. She bites softly against Paige’s left earlobe, eliciting a low groan, before bringing her lips as close to the blonde’s ears as she can, “I want you to fuck me.”
It’s all it takes, Paige finally gives Azzi what her body’s so desperately craving, for far longer than she’s willing to admit, pumping two fingers into her pussy, while her thumb stimulates her clit. And fuck, Paige knows exactly what she’s doing, fingers curling in the exact right spots and Azzi feels like she’s floating or flying or falling, maybe all of the above.
“Please, please, please,” Azzi babbles incoherently, burying her face in the crevice of Paige’s neck, tears beginning to blur her vision. Because, it’s too much, the ecstasy, the fact that it’s Paige behind the ecstasy, the fact that this is better than her wildest fantasies.
“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige praises, fingers starting to move faster, “taking my fingers so fucking well Az, think you can handle one more?”
Azzi whines in response. Paige pushes in a third finger, both of them letting out identical sighs of pleasure. She’s slow for a second, giving Azzi time to adjust but-
“Fuck, Paige, faster, please,” the younger girls moans, grinding fervently, desperately, against Paige’s fingers, trying to create more fiction.
“Anything for you Az,” Paige whispers, and even in the high of the moment, Azzi knows those words are about more than sex, “whatever you want.”
As Paige’s fingers begin to move at a rapid pace, curling around her g-spot, over and over and over, Azzi can feel that familiar pressure building in her stomach. Her fingers claw at Paige’s neck in warning, too worked up for words. Paige nudge’s Azzi’s face out of her neck, free hand cupping the younger girl's jaw.
“Come apart for me baby,” she whispers before pressing their lips together.
Azzi’s hips stutter as her orgasm rolls all over her, pussy clenching around Paige’s fingers, as she moans into the older girl's mouth. Spent, her body goes limp, her best friend’s firm grip pressing her against the edge of the sink, the only thing anchoring her and keeping her uprights. Paige slowly pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s pants and the loss of contact feels wrong. It’s instinct really, as Azzi reaches for Paige’s hand and brings it up to her mouth, sucking each of the older girl’s fingers clean one by one, and it’s worth it for the way Paige looks wrecked.
“Az-” she begins softly, eyes filled with questions but before Azzi can even think about any answers-
“Azzi,” reality crashes and burns around the two girls as Zoe’s voice calls out for her girlfriend. The sound of footsteps gets closer and closer. Panic takes the place of pleasure as Paige and Azzi jump apart from each other and the realisation of their surroundings hits both of them at the same time. Sweat sheens against Paige’s collarbone and Azzi’s lips are bruised, her eyes still glazy. Their identical dishevelled demeanour gives away far too much. Just as the restroom door creaks open a little, Azzi dives into one of the stalls.
“Oh, hey Paige,” guilt pools in Azzi’s stomach at the sound of Zoe’s innocent voice, as she presses her ear against the stall door, “is Azzi in here? She’s been gone for like 20 minutes.”
“She- she was,” Paige stutters, and Azzi hates herself even more for putting her best friend in this position, “I-uh I think she um- she wanted some fresh air.”
“Ah okay, I’ll go try and find her,” Zoe pauses, “are you okay? You look a little flustered.”
“Me? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Paige assures in a high-pitched voice, “just uh miss my girlfriend you know.”
Azzi flinches at the lie. She’d made such a fucking mess today. The lying, the cheating, all of it was so out of character and all of a sudden, she feels dirty. Tears brim in her eyes as she begins to process the gravity of what she’d done. And perhaps the worst part of it, is that she can’t find it in herself to fully regret it. If she could turn back time, she doesn’t know if she’d do anything different. Because when it comes to Paige, Azzi’s fine living in shades of grey.
“Yeah, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Zoe says slowly.
There’s a pause and Azzi knows the words neither did I are floating in Paige's mind before she answers, “yeah, it’s uh- it’s new.”
“That’s good. I’m happy for you,” the sincerity in Zoe’s words hit like stones, rupturing whatever built up image of i am a good person Azzi had ever had of herself
“Thank you,” Paige replies quietly.
“It just-,” Zoe draws in a breath, “Azzi she- she worries about you a lot you know. Even before- you know- when you guys weren’t- you know? Like I think she thinks about you a lot,” there’s an unmistakable wistfulness in Zoe’s voice, “ like- if you’re doing okay and all that. And I don’t- I don’t even know you but I know she wants you to be happy- and- and I want whatever Azzi wants- so- so if you’re happy- that’s good.”
“That’s- that’s really sweet of you,” Paige sounds as guilty as Azzi feels.
There’s quiet for a minute until, “do you think I make her happy? Does she- does she talk about me?”
Zoe’s voice is laced in insecurity and hopefulness and Azzi wishes she’d never brought this girl into her mess in the first place. The sun-kissed Californian had been a classmate who had accidentally stumbled upon Azzi mid-breakdown on a random Thursday. One second she was hesitant, the next she was spilling her woes to a stranger, tired of holding it in. And from then on Zoe had been on a mission to just be there. She’d never hidden her intention, always clear that she wanted more than friendship and Azzi, despite knowing that her heart didn’t really have space for anyone else, had let her loneliness be her guide and given in to the urge to just let someone hold her. But the truth is that while every other second spent with Zoe was filled with mentions of Paige’s name, every moment spent with Paige was never about anything else other than her.
“She- she does, she seems happy,” Paige can’t bring herself to say the with you. The blonde sounds defeated, as if the admission that Azzi could possibly be happy with someone else has taken everything out of her.
“Good, it means a lot,” Zoe’s voice is lighter now, like there’s a smile hidden in it, “especially from you. Thank you. I’ll uh- I’ll go see if I can find her.”
Azzi waits for the sound of footsteps shuffling and then the sound of the door clicking behind Zoe, before prying herself out of the stall. Paige is hunched over the sink, face buried in her hands. And the words my fault, my fault, my fault imprint themselves all over Azzi’s heart.
“Your girlfriend’s looking for you,” Paige says, not bothering to look up.
“Paige I-”
“Just go Azzi, we’ll just” Paige scoffs, “we’ll just play pretend again,” the walls are up again and Paige is unreachable in her castle built from the ashes of the purity in their friendship that they’d just sacrified for a fucking quickie in a barely-lit restroom. And maybe Azzi should say something, maybe she should stay and see if she can fight her way into Paige’s castle. But Azzi’s no knight in shining armour, not Paige’s, not Zoe’s, not anybody else’s because knights don’t cheat and they don’t lie and they don’t break people’s hearts. So she listens to what her best friend says, she walks out, and she pretends she doesn’t hear the sob that’s let out behind her.
***
November 2023
UCLA is up on UConn, it should be a pretty momentous occasion and it is. Azzi’s had one of the best games of her career to get her team mere seconds away from getting their first win over the powerhouse. For UConn, so has Paige, except there’s nothing but frustration gleaming in the blonde’s face. The game had been bad for UConn, the cracks created by injuries on full display. And the competitor in Azzi was more than happy to take advantage of that. But the part of her that was Paige’s best friend was stuck on how tired Paige looked. Someone fucking help her, Azzi had thought throughout the game, she literally just came back from injury.
The outcome of the game is clear and Azzi’s already on the bench getting rest, cheering for her own team of course, but keeping a subtle eye on what’s happening with Paige. Azzi’s eyes follow Paige as she’s finally subbed out. The older girl walks to the end of her own bench, hands coming to rest on her thighs as she hangs her head, face scrunched up in irritation. Paige does that thing where it's like she’s trying to bite of all the skin on her lips and Azzi has the familiar urge to march over and make her stop, preferably by kissing her, not that that’s a thought she’s allowed to have.
It’s ironic really, the 2,943 miles that had once been the reason they’d fallen apart, is the only thing holding them together. Being out of each other’s reach makes it easier to ignore what had happened over the summer, makes it easier to not give into that same vice all over again. And it makes sense, Azzi thinks, because since she’s met her, whenever Paige had just been a blurry goofy face on her screen, they’d been good at the just friends thing. The moment they could touch though, that’s when lines got blurry. As much as Azzi’s not sure how she survived a year without Paige, she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins.
Things in the handshake line are somewhat icy with both teams being overprotective of their star players. Muhl’s eyes are full of disdain once she reaches Azzi and Arnold barely shakes her hand, only doing as much as she has to, to keep up appearance. Azzi’s teammates aren’t any better, Angelica smiles at everyone until she reaches Paige, and Kiki rolls her eyes at the point guard. But it doesn’t matter what anybody else does, not when Paige practically falls into Azzi’s arms, her tense body finally beginning to relax a little.
“You did good,” Azzi whispers into the blonde’s hair, tightening her hold on the other girl as she soothingly strokes her back.
Paige scoffs, burying her face further into Azzi’s neck, “you did good, I did what I had to.”
They break apart reluctantly, the shutter of cameras ruining the intimacy of the moment. Their hands hold on a touch longer but the minute they finally slip away from each other, the familiar feeling of i’m tired of missing you that seems to always be lingering within Azzi, prickles against her heart.
***
UConn and UCLA don’t have a rivalry but if you were sat at the hotel restaurant in the Cayman Islands on a lovely November evening, you wouldn’t know that. There’s multiple women’s basketball teams present at the restaurant and everyone’s mingling with each other but the Bruins and Huskies seem determined to avoid each other at all costs. At one point, Angelica and Muhl, of course it would be them, accidentally bump into each other and Azzi holds her breath at the icy glare shared between them. She’s not sure how she and Paige ended up with something akin to the women’s basketball version of the Montagues and the Capulets, but it seems fitting with the way her life’s been going, that it would eventually start to take the shape of a tragedy.
It’s around 10pm when Azzi notices Paige moving in the direction of the door, towards the beach. Azzi hesitates for a moment, knowing her need to go after the blonde isn't just one born out of a best friend’s concern, but it’s Paige. It doesn’t matter if there’s inevitable destruction on the other side, it’s Paige and when it’s Paige, Azzi will follow.
Paige’s silhouette on the beach, glowing underneath the moonlight, with waves crashing onto the shore beyond her, is straight out of a dream. Azzi’s not an artist by any means, but she thinks if she were, this moment would be her muse. The sea wind causes Paige’s hair to flutter with it. Her eyes are closed in concentration, knees pressed against her heaving chest as she takes in deep breaths of salty air. Azzi traipses across the sand, sandals in hand, before falling to the ground next to the other girl. A whisper of a smile is the only acknowledgement Paige offers her as they let a comfortable silence glide over them.
“It would be nice to live here,” Paige says after a moment, “it’s peaceful.”
“Except when it storms,” Azzi surmises.
“It’s not peaceful anywhere when it storms,” Paige counters matter-of-factly, “can you just let me have my moment?
“Right, right, continue.”
“Well now I don’t want to.”
Azzi laughs. Paige grins. It’s so easy. It’s so fucking scary.
“Why’d you leave the restaurant?” Azzi asks cautiously.
“Fresh air.”
“And?”
Paige sighs, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, “it’s gonna be a long season.”
“It always feels like that at the beginning.”
“I know- it’s just- after last year- I just thought it would be different. We’d show the world this time. Be like the other UConn teams of the past. Maybe I just wanted something easier.”
“No you didn’t,” Azzi nudges Paige’s shoulder, “you’ve never wanted easy in your goddamn life Paige. If it’s not a challenge, then it’s not for you. Because you’re God’s strongest soldier, and He’ll give you his hardest battles, right?”
“Right, but sometimes I just don’t feel so strong.”
“Remember what I said in LA? It’s okay to feel that way P. It’s okay to feel however you feel. Let yourself breathe sometimes, it’s good for you. Fall down, let things go, just- remember to get back up and hold on again. It’ll get better, I promise.”
“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”
Azzi’s not fully sure what that means. She’s not sure she wants to. Instead she tangles her and Paige’s fingers together, ignoring the way it feels a little too right, and lets them fall back into a peaceful quiet.
“So,” Paige begins again, after a couple of minutes, “Zoe didn’t make the trip here?”
I’m holding your hand and you’re thinking about my girlfriend. Maybe you’re a better person than me.
“She can’t just leave all her schoolwork and follow me wherever,” Azzi says, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. It’s true except the part where Zoe had asked if she wanted her there and Azzi hadn’t been able to give her the enthusiastic yes she wanted, starting an unspoken argument that quashed any chance of a nice romantic island getaway for the two of them.
“She did for the Elite 8 last-” Paige bites her tongue.
“How did you-,” Azzi’s brain feels dizzy with confusion, “how could you know that? You left- after the Sweet 16, you- how did you know Zoe was there?”
“I didn’t leave,” Paige keeps her eyes adamantly on the ocean, “the team wanted to stay longer,” that’s a lie, Azzi knows her too well, “and so I stayed and you know me, I love watching hoops so I uh- I watched your game.”
“You were there,” Azzi whispers more to herself than Paige at this point. She’d been so sure she was just hallucinating, her heart trying to trick itself into seeing what it wanted to see, “why didn’t you tell me you were there? Why didn’t you come see me after the game?”
“I did- fuck Azzi- I did-”
“Where? I would’ve seen- I didn’t see-”
“I saw you,” Paige cuts through Azzi’s frantic questioning, her voice heavy with unspoken emotions as she continues to refuse to look at the younger girl, “you and Zoe. Together.”
“Paige-”
“After the game, you were looking for someone in the stands and I- I thought maybe you were looking for your parents but then I saw you- with her- outside the locker room and- it hit me that- that you were looking for her,” Paige spits the last word out as it feels like lava on her tongue.
In the grand scheme of things, maybe Azzi should let Paige keep this misconception, maybe it would make things simpler if she let Paige believe in the idea that there was someone else Azzi sought out when she was struggling. But-
“I thought I saw you,” Azzi breathes out, “I should have been looking for Zoe but-” she has to draw in a breath when Paige whips around, piercing blue eyes that feel like they can see straight into Azzi’s soul, “Paige, I was looking for you-”
The last bit of sound is stolen away from Azzi as Paige’s lips crash onto hers. And it’s so different from summer and that wretched bathroom. Something softer, more gentle, but still desperate and passionate. Time slows down, as Azzi pulls Paige into her lap, hands caressing her waist, mouths still moving against each other with perfect rhythm. They only pull away when air becomes a necessity, resting their forehead against each other, as they breathe in sync.
“You’re so beautiful,” Azzi whispers, moving a strand of hair out the blonde’s face.
The way Paige blushes is everything, “stop.”
“You are,” Azzi insists, pressing a kiss against the corner against the edge of her lips, “you’re perfect P.”
If she goes blind tomorrow, in the next second even, Azzi thinks that would be okay. As long as this, Paige with her soft Azzi smile, looking at her with that sparkle in her eyes, face illuminated by the shine of the stars, is the last thing Azzi sees.
Slowly Paige climbs off of her, stretching out a hand to pull Azzi up.
“You don’t have a roommate right?,” she asks with a soft smirk that transforms into a shy grin when Azzi nods. And this isn’t a version of Paige that Azzi's ever met before, so different from her cocky loud best friend, but she’d like to learn her all the same.
The hotel staff probably think they’re a little drunk as they giggle their way to Azzi’s hotel room. Azzi barely manages to get the door open, before Paige’s lips are all over her again, drifting everywhere from her lips to her neck to her collarbone.
“Off, off, off,” Paige urges, hands pulling away Azzi’s shirt and she can’t help but giggle at the older girl’s impatience. She keeps her eyes firmly on Paige as she unhooks her bra, smirking as her best friend’s eyes glaze over. Paige moves to touch her, and Azzi moves back immediately.
“Nuh huh. I show you mine, you show me yours.”
“You’re so fucking annoying,” Paige groans but does as she’s told, discarding her shirt and Azzi’s smirk widens. She moves towards Paige, slowly tracing her tongue down the older girl’s neck.
“Am I?” Azzi whispers, as she backs her best friend onto the bed. Paige’s eyes follow her every movement as Azzi slowly slides down Paige’s pants, and then her underwear. She runs a finger down Paige’s soaked folds, causing the other girl’s body to shiver, “so wet already, for someone so annoying?”
“Fuck y-” Paige cuts herself off with a groan, when Azzi’s fingers find her sensitive clit.
Settling herself in between the older girl's legs, Azzi grazes her teeth against Paige’s left thigh, satisfied when it makes the other girl’s breath hitch, “if I’m so annoying maybe I should go?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige warns breathlessly, head propped up against Azzi’s pillows.
“That’s what I thought,” Azzi smirks, as she peppers kisses up Paige’s thighs, her right thumb lazily flickering against Paige’s clit.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” Paige lets out a frustrated whine, “just fuck me already.”
Azzi bites down hard against Paige’s thigh, wanting to leave a mark in the one place no one would ever see it, before looking up at Paige, “whatever you want.”
Paige’s entire body writhes as Azzi fucks her tongue into Paige’s pussy, building pace with every thrust. One hand fists around the sheets, as the other moves to grab at Azzi’s head, trying to guide her in deeper.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck shit Azzi please,” Paige curses, eyes rolling into her skull, “just like that fuck.”
She’s so close, words becoming incoherent noises, thighs beginning to shake, when Azzi pulls her tongue off.
“What the fuck-” Paige almost yells but it turns into a groan when Azzi replaces her tongue with two fingers instead, “shit- FUCK.”
Azzi attaches her now-free lips to Paige’s clit and she can tell it’s too much. Paige’s back arches off the bed as her eyes go hazy. And then Azzi’s above her, fingers still rapidly pumping into Paige, as she places a delicate kiss against her lips.
“Let go baby, I’ve got you,” Azzi whispers into Paige’s ear as the blonde closes her eyes, letting her orgasm wash all over her, “I’ve got you.”
Paige is still for a second, as Azzi slips her fingers out, continuing to press lazy open-mouthed kisses against her best friend’s neck. She squeals when she feels herself being flipped over, back hitting the mattress.
“What was it you said?” Paige asks cheekily, as starts to unbutton Azzi’s jeans, “I showed you mine, now you have to show me yours.”
Azzi rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her throat. Trust them to be dorks even in a moment like this. And then Paige attaches her lips to Azzi’s clit and the giggles turn into loud desperate moans. When she slips her fingers in, it’s clear Paige remembers exactly how to push Azzi over the edge.
“So fucking perfect,” Paige whispers from between her legs, eyes looking up at a blissed-out Azzi with awe, “you’re so fucking perfect.”
“That’s you,” Azzi manages to get out in between bated breaths, before her own orgasm hits her, and Paige’s name waterfalls out of her lips like a prayer.
There’s no more words after that, only shared looks and soft grins as they make their way into the en-suite bathroom, lazily washing each other between stolen kisses. They fall asleep, wrapped in each other's arms with matching content smiles.
***
Azzi wakes up alone the next morning. There’s no scribbled note, or even a text. In fact there’s really no proof that Paige was ever there to begin with, except for the ghost of Paige’s touch written all over Azzi’s skin. For a second, Azzi sits in bed and stares out her window. There's a thunderstorm brewing outside (it's not peaceful anywhere when it storms). She watches the raindrops slide down one by one and decides that, that’s the only water that’ll fall today because she won’t shed a single tear and she won’t cry and she most definitely won’t sob.
She replies to Zoe’s i miss you text with a me too she doesn’t mean.
And then she gets up and goes on with her day.
132 notes
·
View notes
Text
‼️Sonic Prime Spoilers‼️
Warning: LONG!
Putting my thoughts together on this new season, overall I found it very enjoyable! Definitely my favorite season.
Loved the Sonadow! Lots of great moments from the two hedgehogs, it’s so very important to me that we got to see a softer more concerned side of Shadow, even if you don’t ship Sonadow you have to admit him not being a asshole was great!
However I do wish we got to see more of him, I’m definitely fine with the amount we got, not only for the season but the show overall! But I hate the trend Sega has made where they put Shadow in a show and he quickly gets put to the side lines.
I think a great thing they could have done with Shadow is when he’s separated from Sonic still have episodes with him! We could have seen him recover from the fall into the ravine and fight his way out as a episode, or it could have been a prisoner situation! (Or both) Nine could have some how contained Shadow after being weakened by the Grim Bots, that would let the writers keep a power house like Shadow out of the fight but not out of the plot. Anytime we cut back to Nine we would also be cutting back to Shadow.
There was also the 3-4 Episode fighting, now honestly I didn’t care but I did notice it. Did the fights get a repetitive? Yeah, It was a lot of repeating the same stuff but I forgive it because during this long fight was all the lovely character interactions and growth, which is what I think we should focus on. Dread choosing his crew over Treasure, The Roses, The great moment between New Yoke Knuckles and Sonic vs Nine (though that probably should have been given to Shadow honestly, he was in the fight but we saw him the least it feels) and I loved the relationship between Mangey and Sails.
But I do have a small problem with how they handled Mangey and Sails in the fight, the writers gave them a “Death” scene. Now that I was really down for, but looking back on it It just makes me think “why?” Now logistically it was probably the writers wanting to take some characters out to write less, which honestly fair enough! They had a lot of characters to juggle.
But I wish there “Death” meant something more than just to get them out of the fight until the end where they come back with the Grim Big Bot, now I’m a BIG sucker for Sonic and Tails moments! And I love everything for them, I love there happy moments and I love there sad moments. Sonic and Tails’s relationship is my absolute favorite thing about the Sonic series! And because of that I wished there “death” was something more important, we got to see Sonic be actually hurt about there deaths and I love that! But I wish it just had a little bit more time, have it be the moment where he really starts to see Nine as someone dangerous, someone who can do some real damage, I know sonic is a guy who believes in second chances, and I’m not at all asking sonic to go into a blind rage and attack Nine, that just wouldn’t make sense. But I’d like a moment where Sonic would just yell up to Nine with anger but also sadness, he just had to watch other variants of his little brother die from another one of his brother, because he was too slow. (Or maybe I’m just a big sucker for angst and just like watching Sonic suffer)
And lastly there is the ending, now honestly all the other things I’ve mentioned before this point are things that I actually don’t mind but I’d probably just change a bit. And this also applies to the ending, just a tad less. I found the ending to be very unsatisfying and confusing, we were told we were supposed to understand why prime was so strange for the Sonic canon but we got 0 answers, and the ending is very open (which is a thing I don’t like for show finales, almost entirely) but, we we’re supposed to get 8eps this season but the season only had 7, that’s what Netflix ordered, so where is the last episode? What I’d like and what seems to be what others would like or at least have speculated is that Sonic Prime will get a extra long episode or Movie later down the line, to properly wrap everything up.
I’d definitely be down for something like that, it reminds me what Rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles did with their show, after there show was put on a indefinite pause they were given the opportunity to make a Netflix movie to wrap up the story. And it’s one of my all time favorite movies! There is most definitely more that they can do with this show, and I really wish this turns out to be the case, because if this is where Netflix actually leaves the show off it will kinda suck ngl, a bad ending kinda can put a whole show off for me (not that this show will end up like that for me but still) and it would also mean Sega pretty much lied to us about understanding the timeline.
So I hope the strange cliffhanger we got with shadow taking the prism shards, the shatter spaces still being a thing and that random (most likely) prism energy blast with what looked to be a shadow of a large ship (probably the eggmen) appearing in the sky we will get that last episode Netflix ordered as a longer special that will help us understand things and give us a more satisfying ending!
But there we go! My thoughts and critiques on prime season 3. I definitely loved the season and I’ll be thinking about the Sonadow scenes we got pretty much every day just like the metal virus arc!
Here are some Sonadow pics for making it this far!
#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sonic fandom#sonic prime#sonadow prime#sonadow#miles tails prower#shadow the hedgehog#sonic prime season 3#tails nine
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Killing Time
Chapter 14: Sky
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Vampire Tav (Female Reader)
Word Count: 5k
total word count: A perfect 68k lol
Link to AO3! | Killing Time Masterlist
Warnings: 18+. PiV and vaginal fingering.
That was that, Astarion decides. After he made love to you under the canopy of a tree, your hair falling on the grass below you, he kept his cock inside you for a few moments, doting on your ethereal beauty and his fully actualized love. It was hardly proper lovemaking, but the two of you have infinite time to be inside each other – he will remedy this and love your body the way it deserves, soon.
He decides he would let you play some more: he enjoys submitting to you, more than he would like to admit, that much was true – you allow him part of yourself in these moments, and he relishes it. Other times, it was like you have a barrier around yourself keeping not only him, but even yourself standing at the precipice of the heart of your fractured mind. But Astarion believes he can fix it, that he can fix you. It’s his job to keep you safe, as your master-husband, and he’s certainly going to try.
You will find the weapon, promptly hand it over to Angel, and then Astarion will proceed to take back control, whisking you back home where you belong. This all had gotten far out of hand, he thinks, and he loves you too much to let you take any more risks. Thinking about all of this, of his failures and his need for correction makes him want to sob in your arms.
Astarion can’t let you leave again. He’s decided he must do what it takes, even if it hurts him.
He has his arms wrapped around you, his embrace tight. He feels like he can’t get enough of you, which is why he needs to drink your blood and fuck your sweet holes with his tongue and cock, his fingers too, as many as you would take: he knows three is your limit, but he rather likes the idea of doing what he likes to you, maybe something new, or something the two of you hadn’t done it a while…surely that would please you. The thought is delicious to him, and it furthers Astarion’s belief that he knows what’s best for you: his sweet, perfect wife.
No more fighting. No more githyanki, no more contracts: Astarion will kill the wretch, Angel, freeing you, before delightfully consuming you, reigniting the connection the two of you once had. He will figure out the logistics of it all later after the two of you have dealt with this nonsense of a quest; Lae’zel will be rather devastated when he refuses her, he knows, but he is willing to send his most competent spawn in his place, continuing to support her cause. Astarion thinks maybe this would make you happiest, and least likely to fight him. This way, he can focus his efforts back on trying to gather the remnants of Toril and you, of course.
Astarion plants a wet kiss on your forehead, still holding your trembling form. The longer you let him hold you, your body relaxes; you’re smelling the base of his neck, gently kissing him, and Astarion is practically purring. He knows it will be trial and error joining in the flesh with you, but he will be patient.
“I’ve got you,” Astarion whispers, trying to soothe you; your reactions to his touch deeply wound him, and although your aversions have nothing to do with anything he’s done to you, a loathing quickly befalls him. Astarion’s mind has long strengthened and healed from his past, but when the loathing does descend on him, he cannot hide it in his face, or in his words.
“I’ve got you, too…” You reply, searching his eyes. You stay like this for some time, relishing in this strange, faux display of trust. Words mean little to you both: Astarion knows he will have to earn your trust back, and he fears he will destroy it entirely if he pushes you too much. But maybe that will just have to be the price for keeping you. Astarion silently begs this will all be easier than he knows it will be.
The two of you walk back to where you had left Lae’zel. Astarion and his beloved only realize the damned Aasimar has appeared when you see his massive, white wings through the tree line. The two of you had (for the most part) hurriedly cleaned up after coming back to yourselves in the forest, Astarion pulling you into a long-needed embrace after. The rain still drizzled, but at this point, it hardly matters to Astarion anymore. The two of you are safe, together, and you were going to complete this errand and go home.
The two of you groan at the sight of Angel. Astarion mindfully shields his thoughts, telling you to do the same, but he isn’t sure you’re listening.
Exiting the treeline, Astarion notices Angel’s eyes fall on you immediately, scanning over your body, as if he had the right to look at it, which pisses Astarion off. The Ascendant’s top lip twitches at the feeling of violation. You stand in front of Astarion, who presses his chest to your back, placing a hand on your shoulder. When Astarion gently tugs at the ends of your hair, you turn to him, looking him in the eye with a hint of defiance as begin to confront Angel. It reminds him of when you used to lead the party, how valliant you looked in your armor; gods, you took his breath away…
“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice demanding. Angel has that fucking smile on his face, the smug look that Astarion desperately wants to beat off of him. He is a rather gorgeous creature, Astarion thinks, his height towering over the three of you, the flutter of his almond eyes and long lashes almost making him appear truthfully amicable.
“Have you tried telling this patron of yours to wear clothes?” Lae’zel asks with a spat.
“You like what you see, there isn’t any need to lie~” Angel speaks to Lae’zel, but his eyes haven’t moved from you. “Mrs. Ancunín! I missed you, girl. Come here.” Angel holds out his hand to you.
“I think not. Why are you here?” Astarion growls over your shoulder, baring his fangs.
Angel smirks, pointing at you as his eyes shift over to Astarion. “I can smell her orgasm from realms away, ha. What would you say if I told you I just came here for a taste of her?”
Hearing about his wife’s orgasm from Angel makes Astarion’s chest radiate with a rage-filled heat, his throat tightening. He almost misses Angel’s state of diminished power, but he can see the vulnerability in the aasimar’s eyes.
“Relaaaax, Astarion. I just need to borrow her, for like, a few minutes, ‘kay?” Angel continues, walking closer to the two of you.
“Not a chance– “Astarion begins, but you interrupt him with a glance. No matter what you said next, there wasn’t a chance in the hells Astarion would let you run off alone with Angel, not without a fight.
“Is it about the sword?” You inquire, crossing your arms.
Angel laughs. “Ah! So it’s a sword. Lovely!”
You’ve puffed yourself up, your fury emitting from you for all to see. “What the fuck is this, Angel?”
Astarion understands the dilemma here: you believed Angel had been showing you visions, leading you to the weapon you seek. This seems partly true, at the very least, but how could you know precisely what you’re looking for, when Angel didn’t?
“All I do is push you in the right direction, beautiful. I’m just a darling angel, Mrs. Ancunín. You’re the psychic!” Angel seems to muse on you, his eyes lighting up amidst the fainting stars. The sun was beginning to rise, and Astarion wished for nothing more than to be warm, dry, and in bed. “Listen, Astarion, buddy!”
“But how!?” You ask, just as Astarion hisses out:“Oh I am most certainly not your ‘buddy’.”
“Again, literally two minutes! It’s for a very good cause, Lord Ancunín,” Angel replies, ignoring you and looking over to Astarion.
“Enough of this! Tav, control your men!” Lae’zel yells. You stiffen in Astarion’s hold, who most certainly doesn’t like Angel being referred to as ‘your man’.
“I’m her only man,” Astarion sneers.
Angel also disagrees. “Not really a man! I don’t follow the silly rules of this realm~”
After a moment, Angel continues: “Tav, you could say I…don’t like being put in a box.”
“Ha.” You give a humorless laugh at his pun. Although you’re clearly not all that amused, Astarion doesn’t like the idea that you and Angel have inside jokes, now, because when the hells did that happen?
“I cannot handle this prattle. You are both beholden to Tav in some way, are you not?” Lae’zel’s question pierces through the tension between Astarion and Angel, the two looking at each other.
“Beholden?” Angel asks, as if he’s tasting the word in his mouth. It’s bitter.
“Of course I am. My blood runs through her veins,” Astarion asserts, determined to end this entire conversation quickly. Astarion is your family: that is more than Angel can ever be to you, right?
“She has my eye. Like, my actual eye.” Angel puts his hands on his hips, looking rather annoyed at the whole debacle. The more Angel speaks, the more Astarion detests him.
“And are the two of you not adults? Figure it out amongst yourself, with your words.” Lae’zel’s eyes sweep over the men, looking between them. She is clearly frustrated, having gotten tangled up in a mess that is not her own. You’re silent; Astarion can’t really see your face, as his arms have coiled around your waist and chest.
“Have you really nothing to say?” Lae’zel snaps at the three of you this time. Astarion can feel how you become restless in his tight hold. He knows you need space: but he needs you more…
“I’m not ever gonna hurt your girl,” Angel breaks the silence. His eyes soften. “‘Cuz she’s my girl too.”
Your hold on Astarion is the only thing that keeps him from lunging at Angel.
You turn to Astarion, still in his arms as you look up at him. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to stop you: and he doesn’t want to plead to you in front of Angel and Lae’zel. He can only shoot you the most puppy-eyed look ever, hoping to melt your heart. So maybe you would refuse Angel’s request – he hadn’t structured it as part of the contract, and although Astarion can’t really be sure, he thinks Angel is giving you a choice.
Astarion doesn’t like employing tactics such as this to manipulate your choices, because the two of you had been on the same page for so long in your lives, it’s almost strange to him to be doing this at all. Astarion was used to making your decisions for you, most of the time, especially the important ones. It was that very trust that is the foundation of your relationship.
Was. Astarion swallows harshly, blinking away the rising tears. As he feels you slipping from his grasp, he does what he must. And he’d rather not resort to drastic measures: he will try to coax you at the right moment (which is certainly not now, despite Astarion’s eagerness to take you to bed again), to please you and plead with you to stay with him for eternity. The two of you have many solitary castles to choose from where he could tuck the two of you away: no servants, no spawn, just you and him in existing bliss, forever…
Even if you fight him, he’s certain after some years, you will be quite happy with the arrangement. Astarion knows this in his heart. Last time, he had given up his plight of keeping you contained in the depths of a forgotten palace after only a few days. But now, Astarion can take advantage of your lack of connection to him: he can’t feel everything you do, anymore, so it would be easier for him to make the harder choices, he thinks. And hard choices that they would be, because he didn’t want to take away any of your freedom, but you have already been hurt. Astarion just loves you so deeply, he doesn’t know what else to do: ‘this is the only way to keep my beloved safe.’
Your face turns to a frown as you study him. “I won’t be gone long.”
“I don’t want you gone at all. You shouldn’t leave my side.” Ever. Astarion wouldn’t go any further than this, because what he wants to say isn’t fit for anyone else’s ears. He won’t humiliate himself.
“Astarion,” You say firmly, tilting your head up, as if to level yourself with him. You grab his jaw, bringing his chin down; your touch is as firm as your voice, and Astarion isn't sure if he should allow this to continue, but he can’t help but take what he can get from you, as pathetic as this makes him feel. But something about your voice; the memory of you handing him Geldon Moth’s head flashes before his eyes. You really are so special. So strong. Two vampire lords down, and you are still standing. Maybe it really isn’t so bad, being yours. “You know that I have to. I swear to you I will be back by your side before you know it.”
Astarion believes you. You had gotten back to him after the impossible, entirely without his help: he was sure, both in the forefront of his mind and in its recesses, that you would return to him intact. You plant a desperate kiss on his lips before pulling away; Astarion holds you to him for just a moment before releasing you.
Astarion watches as his sweet wife walks into the arms of the large winged beast; Angel is eager to receive you, Astarion can tell. His eyes, the gold and the godsdamed ruby, search you hungrily. Angel is far bigger than you and Astarion can’t help but imagine him fucking you. Your pussy would be so tight, Angel would have to be careful if he had any hope of sliding his massive cock inside you – fucking you with his large fingers and his freakishly long tongue would probably be enough for you, but Astarion imagines Angel being a brute in bed and forcing you on his cock, stretching out your tight holes before you’re ready. And Astarion knows you would love it, because children born of the pleasure domain, well – it speaks for itself. Angel is incredibly desirable.
Astarion can’t stop himself before he goes down this rabbit hole of thought: You wouldn't ever be unfaithful to him, would you? You never were in the past, even when your relationship was open, you never broke the rules…but you are different now. And you already had been unfaithful, right? You willingly fucked Lord Moth and at least one of his spawn, you kissed Angel…
Astarion winces. ‘To get back to me. She did those things to be with me.’ There isn’t enough known to Astarion about your captivity, so his mind fills in the blanks, most certainly for the worst: and even he knows it.
You look back at him as Angel wraps his wings around you, the two of you disappearing to god knows where. Astarion can’t understand Angel’s magic – was he a force truly greater than even the desecrated ruins of Baldur’s Gate?
Astarion can feel Lae’zel’s eyes on him as he speaks,“He must die.”
“I’m not surprised to hear it. But I’ve never known you to shy away from power. What he offers Tav is…extraordinary,” Lae’zel says, her voice almost far away as her mind shuffles around the possibilities of what Angel may bring you.
“Only because I don’t know the cost, and what is on the line is precious,” Astarion replies, lost in thought for just a moment before he continues. “He watches her while she sleeps, if he can. He visits her in her dreams, if she allows it. He’s come to her three times already since she’s been back home.”
“You’re jealous.”
Hmph.“Concerned.” Astarion darkens. Lae’zel’s already deduced that Astarion fears you like Angel almost as much as he likes you. “He has a part of her inside of him. And he’s inside of her.”
Astarion grimaces before repeating himself. “He must die.”
“I’m certain you will be the one to do it.” Astarion understands what Lae’zel means by this: he must be the one to save his sweetheart.
Your celestial light and power courses through you during the fight with the beholder, your body feeling hot – it was almost uncomfortable, but it seems to fuel you. Your psychic energy, separate from that of typical magic connected to the weave, was the only thing you could rely on.
“Those two are so interesting, ha. I heard some very spicy things from Lae’zel’s big weird brain. A pity your husband is going through such lengths to block his mind from me.” The two of you are back in Angel’s domain: it’s the same place he visited you during your dreams. You aren’t even sure how you’ve gotten here, if you’ve teleported physically or what, and you think about just how much you don’t know about your patron. But he certainly knows much about you. The only thing you can glean is that Angel doesn’t feel well: sensing his general state of being, you know something has happened, but you don’t intend to inquire about it.
You have your own damn problems to worry about. If he needs to tell you something, he can do so just fine. He has lips and a tongue, right?
Hells, your psychic abilities, your foresight, is giving you far more trouble than you ever bargained for. In the past, they were always brief, infrequent, almost always warning you of a danger pertaining to you. Sometimes, they were more random: but they had never been so as they had when you fought that beholder. During the battle, Almost every moment of your time was spent balancing your visions: what the beast's next attack would be. It kept you a step ahead, but you had to stay focused on your present. The one moment your mind wavered from battle, you couldn’t react quickly enough to prevent Lae’zel’s injury. You grabbed her just after the attack, quickly getting her off the battlefield, because her immediate future only got worse. You were distressed: the image of Lae’zel’s limp body in your mind still haunts you, you couldn’t easily spot Astarion in the ruins – not to mention the auras. The world had gotten significantly brighter for you, and it made you…really feel. It was a lot.
“I wonder what he’s thinking about.” Angel’s tone is serious, drawing you back to the present. He lacks his typically playful nature. He’s close to you, as usual, and you aren’t pulling away, which would be futile. You had already accepted Angel, likely due to the nature of his heritage, has no concept of personal space.
“Astarion’s thoughts aren’t any of your business,” You reply, trying to keep yourself balanced. Even just the mention of Astarion has you feeling pink inside. You shift in the grass, crossing your legs; Angel follows suit, his fingers gripping the grass again, just like the last time you saw him. “Nor are Lae’zel’s.”
“You don’t want to know what Lae’zel was pondering? It was about you and Astarion.” Angel’s words make your gut turn with anxiety, for some reason: what possibly could he mean?
You need to shake it off. “Don’t you stir things up. Why am I here, Angel?”
“I couldn’t anymore if I tried, girl.” Angel’s serious face is making you feel worse. The two of you are silent for a moment, Angel’s intent stares at you making you feel a little uncomfortable. He’s so prettily gazing at you, his long, black, silken hair pooling around his broad shoulders, making him appear more ethereal than ever.
“Tav,” Angel asks, breaking the tension between you. “I’ve been thinking about you. When you aren’t around…why is that?” Angel asks, averting his eyes as his voice raises with his question. You feel a little surprised at his words nonetheless. Angel thinks about you when he’s gone. Why?
“I-I don’t know,” You sigh, your voice exasperated, and Angel looks up at you. His gold and ruby eyes pierce into you, his hand finding yours. Something in his gaze makes you hesitant to pull away, and the intimacy of the act almost feels good: just to hold his hand, which dwarves yours in comparison. Angel has been gentle with you since your ‘kiss’, you note.
“I think about you…”Angel says as his thick fingers intertwined with yours. “I think about you everytime I fuck, Tav. And I’ve been doing a lot of that.”
You have to take a deep breath. You are equally annoyed and turned on at the thought of Angel fucking, and just a little bit curious about where the hells he’s doing all this fucking, and what exactly he’s up to when he’s gone. “This can’t be why you brought me here.”
Angel shifts to his knees, taking both your hands in his. His smile is unnaturally beautiful, perfectly…well, perfect. So symmetrical. His teeth practically sparkle, his eyes crinkling as the smile fails to reach his eyes. You realize how young Angel appears – you would guess thirty in human years. Unsurprisingly, you’re very bad at guessing ages for mortals. To you, they are either fit or feeble. You don’t know how aasimar aging works, but you do wonder just how old Angel really is.
“Ugh,” Angel says as his face drops almost a second later. He has a grim disposition about him that he can’t hide. “It isn’t in my nature to feel like this, Tav. You won’t even give me the one thing I want, and yet there you are, in my mind, like, ever since we first spoke, making my dick hard and stuff.”
“Angel–“
“It’s like you live there, ya know?” Angel asks rhetorically; he shakes his head before continuing,“I can’t let you touch the sword, Tav.” Angel has just a hint of desperation in his voice, and you can’t tell if he’s trying to hide it or not. With Angel, every emotion he displays feels genuine and real to you: but you’re aware of his very nature, which is to seduce – you know you can’t trust him entirely.
You pause, your mind lingering on the visions you had about the sword: the more you focus on it, it comes into view – an incredible extension of your power, one you had never experienced before. But you’re hardly seeing a vision of the future, as it’s just a snippet of an image (but the future nonetheless): an ivory sword, a silver hilt, buried in the chest of some old pile of bones, half in the underdark and half in the ruins of Baldur’s Gate. An unknown figure is approaching the sword.
“It’s so close…” You murmur to yourself. You know something is strange about the object Angel means for you to get him. And he knows it too.
Angel snaps his fingers next to your ear, causing you to whip your head. “You have really bad self control. Has anyone ever told you that?”
You wince a little. “Yes. Many times.” You set your gaze to the horizon, watching the waves of the beach. Angel’s domain is a sharp contrast to the ruins of Baldur’s Gate, and it makes you eager to get back. “Are you really here to stop me from touching the sword? Would I even be able to refuse you, truly?”
Angel smiles. “Yes. and I needed to be near you for a moment. You have part of me.” You note he doesn’t answer your question about refusal.
“You’re injured,” You say, trying to decide if you truly care or not.
“And I need to be whole to regenerate quickly. And you do have my eye, which is looking quite dazzling on you, I must say. And, one of my, uh, colleagues,” Angel’s words come out constrained, “told me I wouldn’t be a very good patron if I let you or any of your retinue touch that sword. So I’m here to warn you.”
Angel comes to rest on his side. His skin seems to glisten in the sun, his long hair pooling in the grass. The smirk on his face is seductive, and you know he wants something. But you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I got injured?” Angel asks, batting his lashes at you.
You merely shake your head. “How the hells am I supposed to retrieve the sword, then?” You ask incredulously. “Why are you just now telling me this, Angel? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
His eyes widen. “Relax, beautiful~ I got here on time, didn’t I?” Angel pats the grass closer to him, beckoning you to him. His creamy skin is perfectly unblemished, and you can’t help but focus on his strong hands, the veins that bulge as his heart beats. He has no blood scent, no detectable heartbeat, but you know his life essence courses through him.
Angel seductively raises his brow at you, absorbing your thoughts of consumption. Ignore. You have to ignore that pang between your legs. “No, Angel. Just tell me what I need to know.”
Angel frowns, giving a sigh. “You need someone with strong will to wield it, but you can’t let them use it, ‘kay?”
Your eyes are wide as you hold out your hands, urging him to continue. Your profound irritation can’t be ignored.
“Every swing will consume their soul. And I’ve been told the sword is very pleasurable to wield, Tav,” He winks at you here, causing you to roll your eyes. “Whoever has it won’t want to give it away.”
Angel’s eyes darken for a moment. “So it can’t be you. You are not to touch it. Astarion shouldn’t either, it would affect you too much if something happened to him.”
The way Angel ponders this sends chills down your spine. You knew the minute you accepted Angel’s offer you would become an asset to him. Nonetheless, a pit in your stomach forms as you begin to feel the reality of your servitude sink in – most warlocks have some end point to their contract: their death. You don’t think about your death often, because it’s hardly a possibility for you. But at this moment, you do wonder what it would be like to die: you often thought this when you were still at Moth’s estate, and sometimes, you still do…at least if you had some expiration date, or even a decent chance of actually dying by anything other than a melting sun, you would be free.
“You won’t ever die, Tav. Why are you thinking about that right now? I don’t like it.” Angel sits back up, and before you know it, he’s sitting behind you, his fingers brushing through your hair. His touch is featherlight, as if he means to be gentle with you, fearful of your rejection. His closeness, which could only be perceived by your sight, is beginning to startle you less and less. Still, you hesitate, creating some distance between you two.
“I’m just trying to fix your hair,” Angel’s mood has shifted, likely purposefully, intending to move away from the morbid.
“Don’t,” You reply, fanning his hand away from you as you turn to face him. You can sense Angel absorbing your mind, particularly since you decided you didn’t give a shit if Angel read your thoughts.
“You’re…you really are angry with me?” Angel asks, his voice becoming softer, like a child’s. You scoff in reply. You’re cursing Angel in your mind for cursing you: the wretched boon he has given you had nearly driven you mad on the battlefield – not to mention the distracting auras, and Angel’s very presence causing disruptions to your marriage.
“Of course I’m angry with you. Are you stupid?” You leer at him, standing up; it feels good to you to look down on him. “Don’t answer that. You seem fine now, so take me back to Astarion this instant.”
You’ve wounded him, you can see: Angel brings himself to his full height, sighing as he stretches his arms over his head, brushing off his hurt.
“Fine, then. Just remember I warned you.” You don’t quite understand what he means until later.
“So if you won’t touch it, and you won’t allow Astarion to touch it, then why should I?” Lae’zel asks, hands on her hips as the four of you make camp. Angel hadn’t yet left, sitting on the ground next to you, while you sat in Astarion’s lap, who exudes such a strong energy, his aura shaping over yours in fluttery pink tendrils. It feels good to be so close, so enveloped: even if his grip felt a little tighter than last he held you.
“I won’t let you get hurt,” You say, and you truly mean this, but Lae’zel isn’t convinced.
“Why don’t you ask one of your spawn, Astarion?” Angel asks.
Lae’zel curiously narrows her eyes at Astarion, who shifts you in his lap. Surely, Astarion’s three spawn had better things to do, and had their arms in many things far more important –
Although you have your flaws, there isn’t anything that could stop you from reading the room right now: the way Astarion tenses around you, the way Lae’zel is looking at him…there is something more to Angel’s statement.
“The three are busy, Angel,” You reply. “Aren’t they, my love?” You pull away just enough to look into Astarion’s eyes – his expression is foreign to you.
“I don’t mean those spawn,” Angel’s words cause Astarion to jump out of his seat, still holding you in an arm as he looks down at Angel, hissing and ready to use his claws. His hold on you is tight, pressing your rib cage to his, his hand gripping the back of your neck like a pup.
Angel reacts, putting himself in some offensive stance. “Secrets don’t make friends or obedient wives, Lord Astarion!”
#ascended astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x female tav#soft ascended astarion#lord astarion#astarion fanficiton#Killing Time
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
Are the JoJo's icebergs fun to work on? They look like a blast to edit and write! (If a bit of a large workload)
The Jojo Iceberg has been... interesting. On one hand yes! It has been a blast to work on in some senses! It taught me a lot about writing, and research, while also allowing me the freedom to experiment with editing and injecting my humor into scripted stuff in a more organic way. I feel like with each chunk of the series I've posted thus far, I've shown more and more confidence over time.
Plus you are right!! Once the audio editing is done, working on visual edits and gags is a blast. Sure it takes time, but I have a weird love for making smooth video edits for people to watch (even though like 50% of the people that view those videos probably just listen to em like a podcast without looking at it haha).
So that sort of stuff, yes! That's been a blast, and I've learned a TON that I'd never take back for the world!
However on the flipside, logistically this project was a nightmare from day one LOL. And this is the part where I try to dissuade anyone from EVER working on a longer project like this because god damn it's been a pain at times.
Keep in mind, the script (as it stands) is nearly 200 pages. That is the longest scripted work I've ever helped write in my entire life, and when I started I was NOT that experienced as a writer whatsoever. I'm a bit better now, but at times I still struggle.
I made the horrible decision to never put a cap on the script. For every new fact I learned, even if it wasn't a part of the original plans for the video, I would add it to the pile. No matter what it was. I was committed to making it as long as I thought it needed to be, not as long as it probably SHOULD have been to get done in a reasonable amount of time.
I did all this for a deep passion for the source material, and even after the final part comes out early this year, I plan on going back and correcting the very few mistakes or miswordings I had in the original videos when I put them all together in one MEGA video.
But that passion for Jojo is a blessing and a curse, and I hadn't realized how long a project like this would take me amidst all the other big projects like Friendlocke and HYHA.
Full disclosure, the script was first started in December of 2020. That's nearly 3-4 YEARS AGO by now. If I knew that putting all this together would take that long, I probably wouldn't have committed to it in the way that I did. In that time, I probably could have put out a TON of shorter stuff, but I was so committed to this that I just didn't and that very much hurt my channel in the long term.
Though to be real, I haven't worked on it consistently, I tend to jump on and off between projects to avoid burnout. However still, by the time it's all done, the Jojo Iceberg combined together will most likely be the longest piece of content on my channel (yes, potentially longer than Friendlocke Season 3, I estimate that it'll probably come out to around 6 hours in length if I don't cut anything down).
It's because of this that after this is all out there? I plan to NEVER tackle something this long ever again. Friendlocke and Jojo have drained my bones, and all I wanna do these days is work on shorter stuff. Though I guess in that sense, this project has really helped teach me a lot about the sort of stuff I want to make. So in a way, even the negatives have positives! There's always something you can take away with, even if your experience had some downsides.
Looking at such a long script and doing some math, it's made me realize that like... damn. I could DEFINITELY do shorter videos way more consistently in the future. And so that's what I plan to do :)
So yeah! Some positives and negatives. But overall, I learned a lot and that's all I could ever ask for.
Thanks for your question! Have a good one!
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bon voyage!
Wait, who's going? Where?!?
The time had arrived for Humanity's first colony ship to depart. A behemoth among the giants of the Human fleet. Thirty five kilometers long, fourteen wide, seven tall, capable of housing up to twenty one million people, and fully self sustaining. It's destination - Andromeda!
Wait, Andromeda? As in, a different galaxy?
"Yeah, that's the general idea, though this ship in particular, called The Herald of The Chosen, is privately funded by the Church of the Unforgotten and can kinda bypass a lot of red tape that's holding up the others. Twenty eight thousand members are aboard. Notice the pattern? Seven is a holy number to them and they really stick to it."
Wait wait wait, privately funded? As in, your government isn't involved? How is that even feasible? Like, logistically or legally?
"Well, back when we accidentally blew a reactor 700 years ago and caused what most saw as beyond a biblical apocalypse, there were more than enough people who became convinced of a lot of things that were kinda hard to argue against at the time.
The fact we had 'vanished' three centuries prior and there was no sun or moon or stars in the sky but things still functioned as if they were set a firm foundation for a lot of religious movements and reinforced some existing ones.
So, while most people aren't all that into faith, the ones who are are firm believers. Just so happens several big-shots are part of the Unforgotten and pulled a lot of strings and set aside many differences once the Earth 'reappeared' in real space. And now just over a year later, we have this Andromeda voyage."
Right. We're still processing that a private Human organization outperforms most of our industrial shipwright systems. We're getting used to that happening more often. Anyway, why so far, can't they establish their colony somewhere in this galaxy?
"Uhh, kinda pointless don't you think? It takes like what... six months to hyperjump from one end of the Milky Way to the other. We can colonize in-galaxy with just regular transports. Oh, I guess since your generators can't charge your hyperdrives while mid-jump it would take you a lot longer, huh. Something like five or six years, right?"
Wait. What? WHAT? You charge AND discharge hyperdrives while IN HYPERSPACE? AND YOU DON'T EXPLODE!?!
"Well, not over short jumps. We did find it becomes wobbly if you do both for over forty days straight, and then, yeah, it does blow up. We're working on a re-router. It'll be fine. Current fix is to just have two drives and switch from one to the other at regular intervals. No issues since we solved the synchronization bug that jumped half the ship clean off into a different hypertunnel.
You'd think warp gates would be the way to go, but we found that going through a literal tear in space-time causes quantum entanglement to break, among other potential problems, human testing is still a while away, so you'd end up cut off from all communication. Even the most ardent zealots still want access to the extranet."
Meanwhile, as the alien delegates swear and fumble and possibly hurts itself in its confusion due to exposure to "Humans being typical Humans", The Herald of The Chosen drifts gently into open space, to a medium sized open broadcast fanfare from fellow Unforgotten members who were not chosen. Then, as unceremonious as hyperdrives are, the act of a vessel of such magnitude jumping away still left an impression as everyone became aware of the suddenly vacated space.
#humans are space orcs#humans are space oddities#humans are deathworlders#humans are space australians#humanity fuck yeah#story#carionto#worldbuilding#andromeda#I've doomed it to become a religious empire#no chance whoever lives there can stand up to Humans in Religious Crusade Mode#not with the tech level I've given them
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
So with the DP x DC “Corpses AU” thing, what type of worldbuilding about his corpses do you mean? Like, is it about how he deals with his numerous corpses or about the “why” of the many-corpse situation? I’m curious about both
Also, how long did it take for his parents to find out in this AU (assuming they have)? I feel like the corpses would make things kinda hard to hide, but idk
Oh I'm so glad you asked. The answer is Yes.
Why and How on the Corpses
Danny's corpse is the universe leveling itself out. Its the universe manifesting a counter balance to Danny's death, he's still alive, his heart still beats and he breaths and as Danny that's fine, he's able to tap into his more ghostly side freely while still breathing, still sleeping, functioning as a living person but a little bit off.
But as a ghost there's nothing to keep him human, bada bing bada boom corpse. It's acting as a tether or an anchor, its the thing keeping him stable. The more he transforms the more need there is for the corpses.
But there's also an upper limit on the corpses. Because as much as they are real, they were at one point humans- but they're also the universe fucking around with an anomaly. Normally it taps out at around 10 or 12 corpses, once Danny exceeds the Corpse Limit, the bodies spark and disintegrate (mimicking Danny's death via electrocution)
Also there are two main ways for Danny to get corpsed, either willingly but going ghost and dropping another body or by his human body getting too hurt or verging death where he forcefully gets kicked out. Danny is stuck in a state of liminality, he can't be more dead or more alive so he's gotta even out before he can go back to either form (meaning that Danny can also be forcefully turned into a human when his ghost form is beat to hell and back)
Reveal and Dealing With Corpses
His parents very much did find out and it did not go well. It's very in line with the thinking of 'Phantom is a ghost possessing the body of our son' taken to the absolute extreme. It. Genuinely took longer than Danny thought it would've, he did manage to finish high school or get a good way into 12th grade before he was caught.
Sam, Danny and Tucker upon first corpsing, did what normal teens did and panicked. Then Sam took over, eventually settle on using the old drums that the Fenton parents used to primarily store chemicals, it evolved as Danny needed to transform in different parts of Amity Park so they assigned dump sites for Danny to transform in so that Sam and Tucker could get there and take care of it, or so that Danny would know where to drag his own remains.
His parents found out by witnessing Phantom attempt to hide his own corpse, it went as well as can be expected.
In Gotham Danny is far more sloppy that he was in Amity Park, with his main way of dealing with it being Don't Die or Transform. Problem solved. If he has to actually deal with a body he makes sure its out of site and that at least his hands are frozen down so that nobody makes an attempt to move him before he's got a dump site prepared. He tends to prefer not to deal with the logistics of water burials but dumping them in the river is the best he's got at the moment the au takes place in, too bad the bats are faster than he is.
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
was talking about how the amount of explosive material needed for the chantry boom, even /after/ that material been refined from the raw ingredients, is probably a lot more than anders and company could gather from a single trip to the sewers/mines without even bringing a cart. (which is cooroborated by the concept art of anders's bomb setup, although I don't think that picture makes much logistic sense either). all of which makes me wonder if the quest we get in canon was more like a scouting mission for anders to see where he could get the materials or arrange the bomb setup rather than the actual dirty work.
"why did he bothering inviting hawke et al then, if he wasn't even using them for the bulk of the actual labour?"
well, that's the thing. I'm wondering how much hawke et al's involvment in helping anders gather bomb materials is entirely symbolic.
other parts of the same quest are definitely symbolic. asking hawke to distract elthina with questions about mages as he goes about his business in the chantry is symbolic. he knows elthina isn't going to budge at that point. he just needs to build up a situation where she was given this last chance to save herself from what he's about to do, so that he can justify what in his own mind feels unjustifiable (though I do not see it that way, and I don't think merrill or isabela do either for that matter)
and given anders manages to set up the bombs just fine even if you turn down the quest…
how much is hawke et al going to find drakestone and sela petrae symbolic? how much is it making them complicit in the bombing simply for the sake of it? how much is this putting hawke et al in a position where their actions mean 'you're either with me or against me (and nothing imbetween)'?
like he really wants someone on his side so badly. so much so, he's willing to interpret lukewarm statements from hawke about not hurting mages as a radical statement of support. willing to interpret what was probably a lukewarm statement from donnic about disliking meredith as a reason donnic is more meaningfully on his side than aveline's. it's not hard for me to imagine anders spinning hawke et all bumbling around as he gathers samples of shit and sulphur and charcoal into a whole emotional experience of support and solidarity.
"so you're saying this was all a manipulative attempt by anders to gain support - support he didn't even really need - under false pretences?"
yes...? but also... no?
i feel like the thing canon doesn't really quite capture, and the thing i don't want to belittle, is how real and visceral and human these needs are? like, yes, maybe anders doesn't /need/ someone there to help him scout bomb ingredient locations to get the bomb built anyhow but-
to want companionship and personal recognition and support and someone to hold your hand through an emotionally difficult task? those are certainly things that pretty much everyone needs to be happy, even if they can persist and survive without. and anders has been denied these things at a lot of avenues of his life, has been taught he cannot ask for these things plainly and expect to get them. so I think it's entirely understandable that he resorts to manipulative, underhanded, and aggressive methods to get those needs met in lieu of even knowing how to pursue them genuinely anymore.
like- fenris crossed several continents to get to a place and a people for whom his experience of slavery hadn't been entirely culturally normalised. where he wasn't constantly being gaslit about how, actually, what he went through was excusable.
whereas anders is really living in the middle of cultural apologism for the circle as an institution. and where the person he seems to consider his closest friend can't accept and respond to anders trying to give away his mother's pillow as the desperate cry for attention and validation and help that it is.
idk, it's difficult bc- I will definitely make fun of anders's dysfunctional methodology for trying to get the attention and help and support that he needs. because he really does behave in ways that are cruel and aggressive and manipulative and stupidly misaimed and wildly alienating, and turn away people who are actually sympathetic to chase after hawke and varric being their least genuine.
but I never want to make fun of anders actually needing attention and help and support. like, yeah, we all do. all the moreso when we're standing up against tyrants and abusive prison camp wardens.
#anders#dragon age#lork dragon age opinions#sorry been a bit tetchy about this character recently (read: the last three years)#my brand of poking fun of this guy has triggered defensive responses from other fans on more than one occasion#and i'm under the mistaken impression that i can get this to stop if i can articulate my points clearly enough
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
[DRV3 Postgame AU Masterpost]
Sorry it's taking me a bit to answer asks, I read every one and cherish them -! I'd figured I'd doodle a bit in the answers, but then ah. This one changed course from 'whats up with shuichi' to 'actually we're overdue for exposition'.
Oh, backstory?
Since Class 79 is at Hope's Peak For Real in this AU, Danganronpa can't very well be like canon. Our solution: infighting, sabotage, and plenty of Drama! Discussion under the cut.
I'd call it a non-Despair AU; the world's not over, and I'm currently thinking V3 is the only killing game at this point in the timeline, catalyzed by good old-fashioned envy (and, truthfully, indignation that strangers get to live out your fantasy while you and your friends are stuck in the building next door... the nerve!) Our mastermind isn't exactly a master hacker, but she's also not working alone. This Team Danganronpa isn't trying to physically harm anyone, but showing off their collective capacity to coordinate and maintain a takeover like this is bound to catch the administrator's eye. All press is good press, and there's a lot (of investor funding, mostly) riding on stories of TAPP's success, so HPA is incentivized to intervene ASAP. The team did not account for the aftershocks of making their peers virtually kill each other. Rantaro is having memory issues, Miu has to catch her breath (to her chagrin), Kiibo doesn't have a body, Kokichi has his cane... and that's just the beginning.
Whoops.
TAPP is kind of like "what if instead of synthetically pouring all of the talents into just the one dude, we experimented on some charity cases to see if we can just artificially build an Ultimate from the ground-up". The tech in the flashback-lights is definitely at play here, though HPA proper wasn't planning on a full memory wipe/personality override (but kept the theoretical capability in their back pocket in case things went south as Advanced Gaslighting) but uh. A bunch of highschoolers took hold of the controls, which is how you get a bunch of kids that sound like characters. They still are.
In this case, Team DR is like at least 3 at most 10 disgruntled teens in the Reserve Course tired of being overlooked. More looking for mischief than harm, but hey, if they can convince the interlopers being Ultimates isn't worth it and they should leave the school after all this and free up the floorspace? They won't argue. One of the things that strikes me about DR as a series is how its internal logic is less concerned with logistics than matching the emotional weight of what it can be like to be growing up and going through high school, so I'm trying to lean in that direction. I'm not completely sure what all this means for the THH and SDR2 crews, precisely, but we'll cross/burn that bridge when we get to it I guess!
This comic taught me a lot of new tools and techniques, hence it feels to me like it took forever but I am super stubborn and couldn't work on something else until the script in my head was actualized, which turned into 'the whole thing being done'.
There's a lot of easter eggs and little jokes in the first page in particular, should you seek them! Consider this another 'cut' in case you want to try and read the Small Handwriting on Rantaro and Miu's desks for yourself.
First:
I already brought up some of them in the WIP so I'll try not to repeat too much and just link here
Kokichi could join the toast, but doesn't (and yet he still sits with everyone). Kiibo doesn't drink anything at all but does want to be in the toast, so he gets a bluetooth speaker. Surely he will blast some vocaloid shortly.
That's Kaito's notebook Kichi is doodling in; Kaito draws a bunch of stars, and I tried to sort-of-almost emulate the drawing on Kichis whiteboard and also get across that it lacks line confidence (sketch over and over the same lines) and he keeps creasing the paper because post-press it doesn't take much activity for his hands to hurt. Also kinda wanted to imply that Kaito not only knows Ouma has his notebook, but probably gave it to him because he's learned it's inevitable Kichi will tease him and draw in it and at least being upfront about it he won't manage to hurt himself trying to steal it (phantom thief or not!) Kokichi's pride is a little hurt at first, but it becomes another of their small routines they don't acknowledge out loud that nevertheless are a kind of familiar comfort for both of them.
Space debris at terminal velocity is no joke man even a paint chip won't just crack your helmet (which you'd only survive via cartoon logic and presumably-magic duct tape) but easily crack your skull at least. I did a project on it in high school once, I should really look for it tbh
Rantaro’s To Do
Set up weekly meeting
Check what is up w/ Kiyo
Make sure Kichi goes to therapy this week
Call Rillianne
Rantaro’s Reminders
Blue: Class
Red: Study
Cyan: ‘Council (or w/e)’
Green: ‘Travel Nerd Time >:P’
Purple: ‘Hang out w/ me ~!’
Orange: Group Project
Yellow: ‘Call ur family this week, srsly’
Miu’s Notes (“Polygraph Improvements”)
Before install into K1-B0’s new body, improve algorithm for fig. (figurative) speech.
Consult Ishimaru?
- Gonta can get in contact
ALSO
I really did make some actual charts based on data from the character bios comparing things like height, birthdate, etc. vs. victim, killer, or survivor status (tho that is a gantt chart template and not filled in, oop). TL;DR the most interesting one to me is this:
Where basically when you account for how many students across the games are stated to have each blood type and the proportion of those students in a certain role, things are pretty even (AB has so few students its bars arent really representative of a trend, I just included them anyway) the type Os are disproportionately likely to be killers. For the record, there's one confirmed type O victim, and it's Nagito. I have no idea what this means. But if I am blursed with this knowledge, now you are too!
The code in tsumugis glasses isnt an easter egg bc i was getting tired and frustrated but the pods are roughly (no kiibo shifts things a bit) in class trial configuration, and on the base layer before all the Rest Of The Panel got added you could kind of tell who's who. Not so much anymore, so: Saihara has his hat on, for the record, and Kokichi is on his side while everyone else is on their back. Might even be a little restless, the feeling of underlying unreality playing substitute for some of (only some of, they're still being monitored) the surveillance anxiety. Fun!
And hey, as always, and especially if you've gotten this far: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
#danganronpa#dr#new danganronpa v3#ndrv3#danganronpa v3#shuichi saihara#saihara shuichi#drv3#kokichi ouma#rantaro amami#amami rantaro#miu iruma#iruma miu#tsumugi shirogane#shirogane tsumugi#glitz dr comics#glittersart#ouma kokichi#oma kokichi#kokichi oma#kaito momota#momota kaito#oumota#drv3 post-VR AU#drv3 spoilers#kind of#long post#now to try and sleep haha oops#its 5am and i didnt even sleep yesterday i am. not gr9 friends but doing my best
326 notes
·
View notes
Text
I see @eponymous-rose doing these sometimes and I've always thought it was so much fun, so here's a Day in the Life of a clinical Associate Professor™. For reference, I've been seeing patients & teaching at my current university since finishing my residency almost a decade (!!!!!) ago.
9:30 - 10:00 - Precious precious office hours, spent answering emails from students, colleagues, and a guest speaker from a national organization I'm trying to coordinate an event for in two weeks. Everything's lined up except the venue (all our regular lecture halls are booked), and of course we discover this just outside his window to refund his airline tickets. Rats.
10:00 - 12:00 - Clinical lab! I'm coursemaster for two complex lecture/lab courses in the spring (protip: never let admin do this to you), so right now I spend most of my week in the classroom. Friday AMs are my advanced procedures lab, & today the students are doing intradermal and subcutaneous injections of the forearm and eyelid. This course can be really scary for them, so I go to a lot of effort to get them mentally and emotionally prepped, practicing approach and needle manipulation, etc. All of them do wonderfully, and even after cleanup and taking the biohazard bag down to disposal, I'm out on time.
12:00-1:00 - Guest faculty candidate lecture! Our full-time faculty has been down by about five people for a few years, and we also have three more of our remaining full-timers out on medical leave until late February, so we are hurting for help. This applicant gives a phenomenal talk on diversity and optometric scope across the several continents she's taught in over the last twenty years. It's an extraordinary talk and I honestly learn more geography than I expected.
1:00 - 2:30 - Lecture! Advanced procedures lecture to the third-year class, usually the only barrier between them and their weekend. I really like today's lecture and it goes well, and even the chronic dozers in the side seats stay awake.
2:30 - 2:45 - Intended to be an interview/tour with the faculty applicant, except here comes the first wrench. Just as she gets to my office, the colleague delivering the speaker lets me know she's having tech trouble with her Zoom-in guest lecturer and also there's a very upset student in the hall outside the classroom. I go down with her right away; student is okay, just got some very bad news, and when I'm sure they're settled with their friends & support system I help the colleague with the tech.
2:45-3:10 - Tour finally happens! The students we encounter are chipper and cheerful (not always the case in practical season!).
3:10-4:00 - Meeting with my clinic coordinator to prep for next week's practicals. My other big course this semester caps with a high-stakes clinical entrance exam; in essence, the students must perform a complete, independent eye examination from start to finish, and they can't enter clinic with "real" patients until they pass. The setup & scheduling for this practical (which runs over three weeks) is probably the most complicated logistical nightmare of my year. However, my coordinator is amazing, and within the hour she has a detailed list of both her tasks and mine and will report back as each prep step is done.
4:00-5:00 - Desperately trying to finish this schedule, answer my most urgent calls from patients, and finish some time-sensitive grading. Another colleague comes by and asks what I thought of the guest speaker, and when I say I didn't get much time in my interview with her, she suggests I tag along to the faculty dinner with her tonight at 5:45. A fantastic idea! I'll just wear what I have on, yeah?
The faculty dinner is at a five-star steakhouse. I'm wearing scrubs and a pullover.
It's okay, I have time to make it home and change! I can make it!
5:15 - I accidentally overwrite 90% of my completed schedule with an old, mostly blank copy, and don't realize it until after saving multiple times (I was on a different tab in the spreadsheet).
5:15 - 5:45 - Meticulously recreate the schedule as quickly as I can. I've already emailed out some assignments to the students, so I can't start over from scratch (which would have honestly been faster). Finally finish & send out the details to needed parties.
5:45 - 6:35 - race home, feed the dog, change into slacks and my favorite blazer, race out to the steakhouse.
6:35 - 8:30 - I arrive just before the salads come out, hallelujah! I have the best steak I've ever eaten in my life, as well as have a fantastic conversation with the candidate and the other faculty. The time honestly flies by, and when I realize what time it is I'm feeling very guilty about leaving the dog. Still, I'm sure she'll be a fantastic fit for the program, and it's honestly a relief to have my questions about some of her experience answered.
8:50 - home at last, at last!
8:51 - I discover my fly has been unzipped all night.
8:52 - 9:00 - I indulge in paroxysms of shame until I rationalize that the restaurant was incredibly dim, I was sitting the whole time, and my undies are also black. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine.
9:00 - now - hot bath, a book of poetry, and a double bourbon. After today, I feel like I've earned it.
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Your daily dose of Nocorro angst, good eats:
I'm not putting in @spicymiilk 's ideas in case he uses them, but dear god I would pay real money for my accidentally mated au to be written thank u.
-Part of me thinks there should be a fucking medieval au type thing where Neteyam is the next prince to take over the kingdom passed down via Neytiri's line. I just love the idea of Spider as a fucking Theon Greyjoy type son of the enemy raised by the family, and that’s why Neytiri doesn’t trust him or some shit it’s so juicy. Can't you all see it now it's so good, the star crossed horror of it all.
-The additional Neytiri/Neteyam parallel that comes out in nocorro. They both have forbidden alien romances, and yet Neytiri wouldn't respect or understand Neteyam's without a lot of work. THE SYMBOLIC T R A G E D Y. We could have a moment of Mo'at being like, "Get it together, I accepted your freak. I even like him better than you now sometimes."
-I am currently deeply obsessed with the bonds Na'vi form with their mates. Every author has played with bonds differently, but I feel like a lot of fics have mentioned this concept of being able to feel each others emotions. The fact that the bond is like, more raw and important in the beginning. So Spider and Neteyam keeping their relationship hidden, being separate and secret would be like almost painful. I am so so invested in that idea I want to know More. Like they Have to be near each other, like touch and shit is essential for a healthy bond at first and they’re just like fucking it up. I want to explore Na'vi bond concepts so bad, with some lovely hurt comfort of nocorro being forced apart at the worst time.
-I even like the concept of them being in a healthy, normal relationship, right? They are newly bonded, and everyone loved and supported them from the beginning or what not. They wanted to get mated before the train raid just in case, and then Spider gets fucking taken lol. Tragedy, they AREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE APART, the drama of it all.
-I made that soulmate au post where I did all the different types of soulmate aus I could think of and with the one where they can feel and take each others pain I WENT STRAIGHT TO NOCORRO RIGHT AWAY. There’s something so funny and horrifying about spider getting taken and Jake being like “alright go learn an entire new culture” and Neteyam's like on the ground half dead like “but dad I feel like I’m being brain tortured”.
-Neteyam would be so fucking angsty and reckless at Awa'atlu in this au. He feels all of Spider's pain, so he's terrified and scared BUT ALSO CRANKY. He’s saying slightly rude things to his parents and he’s beating the shit out of Ao’nung before Lo’ak can even try. Man is testy. And he's shit at learning to breathe, he is not feeling calm or patient.
-The soulmate au where you can take the others wounds, imagine Spider taking the bullet wound even after they have a (spider inflicted cause he gets hurt more often) pact to not take each others wounds and pain. Horrifying. I have been wondering about the logistics tho, because Spider's body is proportionally different than Neteyam's, would the wound appear somewhere else on his body that would help him possibly survive? I can't decide.
-Oh my god also a version where they hadn't realized yet they were soulmates. Neteyam's all of a sudden devastated and horrified that he's alive at the cost of his soulmate, one he never got to meet, only to look over and notice Spider keeling over. TRAGEDY. pLS I need comfort fics too.
-There’s enough torture porn in this fandom I’m waiting for my Spider romcom. I want to be surprised by how right things start going for my boy, it's never surprising when all the things go bad all the time for him. I want that fucking fast food nocorro au I got so into. I want my soulmate au but they notice from the beginning so they accept him and raise him or something.
-Speaking of a little modern nocorro romcom (still with plenty of angst tho) I’m telling you I’m right Neteyam is P E A K I can fix him. He clocks Spider and is like “now there’s a boy I can fix (sexual).” His sexuality is will my dick cure him? Yes.
-Spider like, coughs once and Neteyam's like that sickly little loser of a man is Mine now, wow. Wow I am going to Save him and it'll be so satisfying. The man has a savior complex you can't convince me otherwise. That meme like "if I had a lame ass boyfriend I would hype him up so hard," that's Neteyam.
-I've always thought that Neteyam and Spider's problems and fights would always be over Neteyam trying to fix all of Spider's problems. Like Spider is just venting about his dad and Neteyam is like "so I'm on the phone with CPS and we're filing a report" and Spider's like "oh my fucking god I just wanted you to listen??" And Neteyam's like but babe I can fix it.
-Neteyam's GROWTH is him like learning to grit his teeth and literally sit on his hands as he forces himself to let Spider have his own problem instead of Babygirl-ifying him. He's literally Too Pure Too Good For This World in the most annoying way possible, he thinks everything can be fixed but maybe Spider's just gotta be broke, we can't superglue this one back together.
-Then Spider's like what if he won't like me if I'm not broken anyway? And it's a whole other complex and a whole other set of issues.
I hope you've enjoyed this word vomit of terrible angst, I need help and I need fluff.
#thank u to andrei for making sure i got literally nothing done all day#and at one point while we were talking I glanced up at work and noticed one kid had another kid in a headlock#and i'd been letting it happen in favor of this#neteyam sully#miles spider socorro#spider socorro#nocorro#neytiri sully#mo'at#jake sully#ao'nung#avatar#avatar the way of water#james cameron avatar#we are mindmelding get in
137 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! I’m 24 and looking for anyone 21+ interested in some apocalyptic roleplays. I’m a real sucker for hurt / comfort and would love to emphasise on the trauma our characters are carrying around from living in this world. I’ve got a male character in his late 20s who I’d love to use, but also adore playing side characters and will absolutely be playing a range of different people. 🐲
As for plots, i had a few things in mind - though we can change and combine anything as we like. these are more just to get the ball rolling.
The first plot I had in mind was either riiight at the beginning of the apocalypse, watching society crumble into chaos and people dying at alarming rate and everything. Maybe our characters already know each other, or maybe one help the other and it goes from there
A character waking up from some sort of coma in the middle of it all (let's not think about the logistics of this one) and the world as they know it has completely gone and they have to learn how to survive
Complete anarchy - rival groups, people running around completely lawless etc etc, our characters find each other but aren't sure if they can trust one another.
cults??? One character stumbles across a survival group but realises pretty quickly that things are not what they seem and something dodgy is going on. perhaps the other character has grown up there and is sort of brain washed.
man i’m rambling sorry but there’s lots of potential and i can’t wait to come up with something brilliant together. these ideas aren’t set in stone, i just wanted to throw some ideas out there — if you’ve got a specific apocalyptic setting / plot you’d like to try please let me know and we can work on something together! please drop a like and i’ll reach out. thank you ⛺️
Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
It is Wolf 359 day (also known as Christmas for some) and since I saw a stoat photoset on my dash I feel compelled to post about daemon hcs.
Eiffel - Word of God is raccoon, and it fits. The poor thing probably looks like she has mange during the season 2/3 timeskip, since there's no way astronauts are stuffing their daemons in spacesuits - they must have to go through some kind of pre-mission training to lengthen their range. They are not trained to get blasted lightyears apart though, rip. That's gotta hurt. Once he's recovered from his ordeal though I'm sure he takes advantage of their massively extended range to cause problems. There's no way I stole those donuts from the Urania's stores, commander! I was here in the comms room the whole time.
Minkowski - white-tailed eagle. This bird is found in Poland, and some versions of the Polish flag have a white eagle. It's also similar to but not exactly like a bald eagle - showing how Minkowski aspires to assimilate into Americanness but can't completely abandon her Polish heritage. Plus pilot = bird, it tracks.
Hilbert - rosencrantz-draws-things did a series of daemon paintings for the characters and while I don't agree with all their choices, I did like chameleon for him. He changes roles and faces when he needs to, whatever helps him survive.
Lovelace - The painting series I referenced gives her lioness, which I don't hate, although the logistics are a bit messy for a space station environment. Given the backstory I've envisioned for her I kind of want to spend more time reading about Puerto Rican fauna and get back to you on this one. How does the daemon situation work with her being a surrogate? Unclear but it sure keeps her up at night!
Maxwell - Ferret! The wonder twins have mustelid vibes to me, and I am always charmed by the story of the ferret who cleaned out the tubing of a particle accelerator.
Jacobi - Stoat to match Maxwell. They are the mustelid twins now. It just feels right.
Kepler - idk I don't care about him.
Pryce - Coconut octopus. Something a little bit unusual and unexpected, requires specialized care and upkeep, and octopi are extremely intelligent, with this species actively modifying its situation via tool use. She can carry him around in his own special tank.
Cutter - I never settled (lol) on anything for him, but given I like the idea of him bodyhopping (this has been thoroughly debunked by Word of God but oh well) I imagine that he keeps around the old body's severed daemon as a smokescreen. This leads to a very animated, lively guy with a strangely inert, unfocused daemon which makes him even more unsettling to everyone. He's impossible to read.
Hera - I saved her for last because she's a special case. When AI reach sentience a block of code just pops up in their programming, and that's their daemon. They're not physical in the same way humans are - why would their soul be? However, product testing indicated humans preferred to see something daemonlike, so customer-facing AIs get holographic projections of cute, non-threatening animals like puppies or songbirds. Hera has a bird until Hilbert takes her offline. When she comes back, she has control over the projection and can make it look however she wants. It's not actually her daemon but she can use it to express herself in a similar way, including projecting her humansona, which scares the crap out of people the first few times they see a random stranger on board.
Daemons in microgravity would be their own headache. I imagine crewmembers get velcro pouches on their uniforms or toolbelts sized for their daemons to keep them from floating away. Smaller daemons are preferable in the same way that there's a height range for astronauts - this is why I'm conflicted about Lovelace. Also, you know I am a #hater of 'daemon touching = sex' in AU settings and believe there are multiple kinds of intimacy, and spaceflight involves everyone getting real cool about a lot of stuff real quickly, so I think by season 3 Minkowski and Eiffel at least are hanging on to each other's daemons when they're out on spacewalks both for convenience and emotional support. (Eiffel is still stressed out about it but more because he is really bad at holding a raptor and scared of getting slashed by talons.) Hera occasionally perches her projection on their shoulders which again doesn't mean the same thing to her but gets the message across. If Jacobi is working on something fiddly Maxwell will be wearing both their daemons around her neck, and vice versa.
Bob does not appear with a daemon while wearing his Eiffel suit. The alternative would probably be more upsetting.
23 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
lagoat0301
Young Trap Lord
k-reations
Kreations
clownfucker9000
:o)
unseaprads
the six
yousmileasshole
I GO BY "HALSEY'S BITCH"