#also rare roman W ?????

[chooey]

common kendall L

#THIS IS CRAZYYYY #loved the last episode actually #also rare roman W ????? #when he said youre bullshit we're all bullshit we're nothing like wow FINALLY????? #anyway i found watching the series kind of. insufferable 😭 #and like what the hell is this tomgreg endgame lmfao 😭 #whatever they have going on i dont wanna know anything ! dont care if it's pride month #roy kids are just a bunch of losers wbk !!!!!!!!!! #not saying logan roy is a good person or that i like him i dont like any of them but according to this show he was a good business man so ? #shivtom ok then!!!!!! shiv though still a nepo baby (semi capable???) i cant really find it in me to hate her #piss babiest award goes to kendall roy idc #ok real talk theres room.... a house for nuance here #ultimately this boils down to logan being a shitty dad to all of them and building a company that encourages toxic shit to fester #but even that piece of shit had his own demons #logan roy unforgivable unreedemable literally hell if it were a man #still... i liked that the last episode at least tried to show his good side (? lol 😭) the scene was the warmest a succession scene can go #also the scene of them acting like children. it was good. it reminded me of the boat scene in s1 at shiv's wedding (probably intentional) #if i could say which character i... didn't like necessarily but people i found interesting/captivating it would be... #kendall tbh... gerri shiv stewy caroline tom (he is SO weird and fucked up) greg??? frank? roman i was on the fence Always #it's bad that in his mind he's the middle child bc im the middle child 😭 I don't identify with this i don't claim it i don't approve of it #........but sometimes........ yeah #logan was right about one thing and that they are just unserious people lmfao 😭 nice parting words huh #unblocking the tag now!!!!!!! wow finally i can see what people were thought of this show/the characters #maybe my view is more cynical and too vanilla i'm sorry i just cant excuse the heinous shit these people did hence i don't have a favorite #it's just a fictional show (!!!!!!) well ok but i just didn't love them as characters!!!!!!! 😭 #succession #izza💭

[catilinas]

Hello! I apologize if im bothering, and wish you all the best in upcoming year! I wanted to ask, do you perhaps have some suggestions for modern plays ( written in last 20 or so years) inspired by greek tragedies (either serving as motifs or beibg retellings), particularly Oresteia? I am asking because I see lots and lits of literary retellings, but with few exceptions, rarely dramas. Thank you anyway, sorry for bothering, and have great holidays!

hi!!! i can think of a few but but because i'm more of a roman epic person the list is mostly plays i've actually seen. i think literary retellings are probably easier to find people talking about online because like. they aren't performed and so there's not the access barrier of needing to Go And See The Performance. and then also there are plays where you then can't get hold of the script! i'm also assuming you're interested in plays that aren't just translations / close adaptations of tragedies, because those are a lot easier to find and also like. more common?

here are some plays that i have either read or seen that fit your criteria and also fuck immensely:

the burial at thebes: a version of sophocles' antigone - seamus heaney

antigone the musical - marina mccready (does cool things w genre; version of antigone that has made me feel the most genuine sympathy for creon)

the cure at troy: a version of sophocles' philoctetes - seamus heaney (this isn't quite within the last 20 years but you may be interested anyway!)

phaedra's love - sarah kane (also a bit older but it's sooo good. although it is maybe more senecan tragedy than greek tragedy?)

phaedra - simon stone (based on euripides' hippolytus but also the plays by seneca and racine. but also it isn't any of them. but also it IS)

oresteia - robert icke (maybe my favourite play of all time ever) (robert icke has also done a version of oedipus but it was in dutch and i don't think it's possible to get the script?)

girl on an altar - marina carr (inspired by the oresteia but. not. also very cool in that it incorporates a Lot of iphigenia at aulis and yet iphigenia never appears. and then the whole play is about her)

also! if you aren't aware of the archive of performances of greek and roman drama productions database you might also want to rummage around in there! like i am Aware of things like a recent musical version of medea / iphigenia in splott but they are almost certainly in that extremely filterable database :D

also also clutuals pspspspsps if you have any particularly cool additions to this list. hi. hello.

#happy (greek tragedy filled?) 2024 to you to :') #book list #kind of #or like. very clearly a list of Greek Tragedy Adjacent Plays That Have Been Put On In And Around London Recently #shoutout to student discounts on theatre tickets. shoutout to my student id for not expiring until late 2024 #beeps

[kaltacore]

no but essek's abnormal behaviours in the last arc and especially in episode 140 are my roman empire. which is ironic because aeor is something of a roman empire itself. but in all seriousness, it was the episode that made me realise i love essek and his development so much and it kinda summarised it even before caleb's epilogue.

and i mean the "it's not fair" scene specifically. it's like, an epitome of his whole character progression from a person who put An Objectively Important Goal above all else without hesitation to someone who can't help but care for people around even more than his goal, no matter how big and relevant it is.

the mighty nein - and he alongside them - pretty much saved the world and freed an ancient city from thousand-year-long suffering. they defeated nine extremely powerful menacing entities who managed to stay out of everyone's sight for years and were so close to achieving their goal and dooming exandria in the process. they did the impossible and became heroes and somehow, they survived, even though they had bidden farewells a couple of hours ago because they had already understood what they had been facing. and nevertheless. they made it.

and none of them was celebrating.

mighty nein are basically essek's only friends. he knew them to be very unusual people, to put it lightly, loud and stubborn and completely inescapable once they consider you to be one of their own. and they showed him so much kindness and put so much faith in him, they were here playing the most atrocious music ever and digging clay in his backyard for a spell they invented just to help one of theirs and asking him if he could bring them pastries the day after they found out he was lying to them and had started a war. they were chaotic and weird and sometimes unbearable but most importantly they were carrying so much hope with them all this time - a hope they could end the war, a hope they could stop the angel of irons cult, a hope they could get better, a hope he could get better, and now, finally, that they could save their lost friend.

and that hope shattered, just like that, the moments after they'd already made the impossible. they saved so many souls - and then could not get back just that one.

for essek "my intentions were never good they were important" thelyss it just. shouldn't have mattered. they won. it could have been worse. people die and when they die they rarely come back. they should've been happy everyone else barely made it alive.

but for some reason, mighty nein being so defeated after they saved the world exposed him to that overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness. and i mean, there were many things essek considered to be unfair, but when i watched his first appearance and his interactions with mighty nein later on til their reunion in aeor arc, i wouldn't dare to guess that one of the things on that list would be something that personal. and personal not even to him.

the thing is, essek didn't even know who that guy was. why mighty nein cared about him so much. he had an idea, i guess, that he was their friend once, or someone in that body was. it was also a person who wanted to unleash a terrifying horrific aberration onto the material plane. it was a person very dedicated to killing essek and his friends - and they still didn't take any pleasure in fighting him. essek didn't feel strongly about lucien or molly, because he never knew them.

i don't think he mourned his death and failed resurrection. he mourned mighty nein's hope, the one they put in him when they had no reason to, the one they offered yasha in the cathedral and the one they kept after the spell for veth failed and the one they carried til the very end because they wanted it to reach molly. they had saved people with this hope. they had saved nations. they had saved the world. but they ended up feeling like it hadn't even been worth anything.

how desperate would it feel, witnessing people who for some reason always saw good in you when they absolutely shouldn't, who made literal miracles out of nothing, who ended wars and fought gods and tricked the hags and freed cities from horrors beyond anyone's comprehension purely because they thought it was the right thing to do and also loved their friends this much, silently crying over a dead body they couldn't bring back to life? how desperate would it feel to realise that with all your knowledge about time you dedicated your life to and threw away any principles for, you can't undo this? no one can. some things are left to fate alone and this time it wasn't kind to them. no matter how much good they did, they still got slapped in the face.

and it was, i think, such a genuine moment of empathy. like, essek is the character who prefers to put up a facade and act distant and self-composed but this time he just. walked away unable to watch this. the could only say to fjord that it wasn't fair. even when he was caught off guard in nicodranas he was able to explain himself and his motives to an extent even though he was a nervous wreck whose extra important plan went to hell the second the only people he cared about appeared. this time he had nothing to elaborate on. it just wasn't fair. it wasn't fair his friends didn't get what they wanted the most. it wasn't fair he couldn't do anything to make it right.

it is such a sad and beautiful and even cathartic scene because it is about person who started a war that destroyed so many lives - and then met this ragtag group of weirdos who saw a lonely stand-offish guy and said "hey, let's be friends!" and didn't even wait for him to answer. he saw them being serious and calculated and he saw them being ridiculous and extremely stupid, he saw their mistrust to outsiders and their loyalty to each other, he made spells with them and paid a visit to their hot tub, he ate their stale pastries and drank their hot chocolate mixed with whiskey, he was welcomed amongst them and in their wonderful home, both in xhorhas before they even found out what he had done and in the tower when they already knew - and then, he saw them mourning their loss, defeated and helpless, and he, a person who believed there were things more important than whole nations, let alone just one life, couldn't help but share the pain they felt. a pure display of compassion from someone who detached himself from it, who didn't believe he could grow into a better person capable of it again, but became one nonetheless without even realising it

#sorry. i cannot shut up about this. this scene stuck with me the moment i saw it and i just couldn't get it out of my head #i mean. i liked essek well enough. i just got attached to other characters more. but then 'it's not fair' happened and it sealed the deal #it was just. so beautiful. so sincere. so important for a character who just started to learn how to care about people #his reaction wasn't intentional. it didn't change anything. but it showed how humane he had become. how deeply he cared #mighty nein are no joke pal #they're gonna make you feel all these unknown emotions like sympathy and love and affection even when they're incredibly painful #essek experiencing closeness and attachment in all their forms. as something beautiful and something aching. is so important to me #they saved him because they had good hearts! and these good hearts sparked so much joy around them! #but if a good heart grants you an ability to experience joy so profoundly. it makes everything else feel like that #you get it. i hope you get it. anyway e140 did so much psychic damage on me i probably will never recover #in a good way mostly <3 but yeah. yeah. it makes me feel a little insane #the mighty nein #essek thelyss #critical role

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

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

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

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

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

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

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

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

August 2021

where are you 

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

dude 

are you on your way?

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

PAIGE

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

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

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins 

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers 

wow 

fuck you

just landed 

thought you might like to know 

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess 

September 2021

dude enough okay 

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk 

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

November 2021 

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm 

idk why i’m trying again  

maybe i should block you 

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck 

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was 

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige 

merry christmas i guess

March 2022 

i misz you 

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich 

pkese pick up 

ignore that 

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you 

wait 

i don’t need to tell you that 

you already ignore it all anyways

 

August 2022 

i heard about the acl 

i’m sorry 

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm 

***

September 2022 

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You talked to my dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what-”

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

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

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

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

“You don’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

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

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

*** 

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

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

“You wanna see my dorm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

November 2020

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

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

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

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes. 

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

“Right.”

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

“They seem wonderful P.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

September 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paige-”

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

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

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?” 

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

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

“Hmm?”

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

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

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

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

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

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

“You having fun?” 

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

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

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Az-”

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

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

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

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

[bowieandqueen11]

Resolved Issues / Roman Roy Imagine

Request: HIIIII gonna send my succession request while i still can lol.

how about roman and reader sharing childhood stories? him realising that perhaps, maybe the way his family has treated him is tiny bit Not Normal. the reader being somewhere between "oh my god let me give you a hug" and "i just might fight logan roy in the parking lot". yknow good old hurt/comfort you do it like no other

Thank you so much sweetie!! But also yes I feel this in my soul frick Logan Roy lmao 

Warning: strong language. mentions of diarrhoea and mentions of child abuse/ physical abuse! 

This 3k beast took quite a while to write, so feedback is appreciated! Thank you! :)

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @loverboyromanroy.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman shrugs his shoulders and looks steadily at you, straight into your eyes.

‘The fuck- how should I know? Like... twenty three, ish?’

Roman’s perching on the edge of his own sofa, so obviously uncomfortable even in his own apartment. His wrist flicks as he answers, and a few drops of the whiskey he hasn’t touched comes sloshing round the side to stain his brand new eggshell blue decorative pillows. He had never cared much for property. But then again, he hadn’t cared much for whiskey either growing up; it had been his father’s drink of choice, and therefore his. The faint fire in the cold marble fireplace behind his head licks between his ears, and illuminates the confused amusement gleaming in his eyes.

You scoff, and shake your head at him incredulously. ‘You own twenty three houses, and you choose to live here?’ Awaiting an answer you know will be even more ridiculous, you make an effort to tuck your legs criss-cross under you, and sit with your knees resting just underneath Roman’s lower legs. ‘And yet you still live in the coldest ass apartment, I swear to god I’m freezing my ass off, and that’s even with the fire going. Are you a fucking yeti or something, Roman Roy?’

He chortles as you continue: ‘you thrive in colder climates, huh? That’s not surprising, considering a glare from your father could freeze hell over.’ You take a final sip of your drink before reaching over and placing it on the sleek black coffee table; Roman’s eyes drop for a split second as if almost in despondency, some kind of deep scarred sorrow peeking its way out like a tired child, before rising back to yours, seeking comfort. It doesn’t slip your attention. You make sure your fingers brush against his socks as you slip your hands back to your lap, and give a sweet squeeze to the tippy toes. He lets out a giggle and kicks his foot out at you, and it’s the most delightful sound you’d ever hear: that true, unadulterated happiness that Roman Roy rarely ever is permitted to have, without some kind of malicious intention lurking behind it.

‘Okay, well, one’, he ostentatiously holds a finger up by twirling it in the air, and it takes you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing you his middle finger. ‘Fuck you. Two-’, he decides to count with his pinkie finger, ‘my dad owns twenty three hours, I own approximately zero fucking squilch of that. And three, I’m a fucking incredible designer - see that Feng Shui over there? All me baby, I would have fucking killed it as an interior design.’

‘Having one sad as fuck looking potted plant by the window and literally no personal items doesn’t count as Feng Shui, dumbass. You’re just sad.’

‘Okay - well - if you’re such a smartass-’, Roman winds his hands up by his head but nearly lets the crystal glass his brother had bought him for his last birthday fall onto the hardwood floor, so he grimaces and gently places it on the rug. He turns back to glance at you, and despite the fact he’s positioning himself as if he’s conducting an interview: elbows resting on knees with hands clasped out before him, face set in stone, he still looks intent and truthfully curious about the answer he’s hoping you’ll give. ‘What was your childhood home like then? I’m sure full of unicorns that shart rainbows and fucking fairies that sneeze glitter from the way you hate my deco.’

You pause to think for a minute, not fully expecting such an honest question to come from Roman Roy. You place a finger gingerly against your lip, and in that second, perched up on the edge of the pristine settee, Roman wishes he could just leap over and replace your fingertip with his lips. He had never been so entranced by someone: never had the privilege of knowing someone from this corporate world who would be so truthful, so different from him. And yet, at the same time, someone who so deliciously, so crudely, so cruelly reminded him of the young child locked in the cage within his heart: so unknowingly let him cling onto the little bit of him he had tried to keep alive. The only bit of him left that wasn’t a Roy. That was just Roman.

Yet, even in the hope that clouded his mind as he awaited your answer, your words came like slices to slit against his throat. ‘Well, I suppose my home was... well, not to sound pedestrian, or super corny, but it was a happy one?’ He nodded, content to bleed out in front of you. ‘There was usually a lot of laughter, and of course a lot of stress, but you know. We could all rely on each other. It was... yeah, it was nice.’ You stop, biting your bottom lip and switching your legs around so you could raise them up and pull them against your chest. 

You didn’t want to look at the man sitting before you suddenly. It was as if he had regressed into himself as you went along: withering, shivering slightly like a frosty chill over an empty playground. It looked - it felt unnatural, as he stared at you without seeing. He blinked languidly for a moment, soaking in your words, before jutting his bottom lip out and trying his best to grin at you. ‘Well, my childhood wasn’t so horrid either. My brother took me and Ken camping once, and although it was fucking sleeting down like bullets of pure fucking ice down by the stream, Connor did eat a fish that looked like a mouldy shoe and spent most of the night running off into the woods holding his ass.’

He snorts then, his little high pitched hyena laugh bubbling out of him as he places the back of his hand against his lips to try and hold it in, and you can’t help but laugh along with him at the sorry image of the supposed Roy brother patriarch scuttling around like a crab with diarrhoea. 

‘That’s sweet, but do you have any other actual memories with your family where someone isn’t being ridiculed?’

‘Woah, hey-’, he holds both his hands up, and slides down from the armrest to come sit in front of you. ‘When you meet my brother, you’ll understand that he deserves it.’ You flush slightly at the implication, becoming rather uncharacteristically bashful around Roman, and glancing quickly down between your legs. Pulling at a thread until it becomes loose, you pray the timid fire glow is enough to hide from him the rushing heat crawling up your neck. Due to the fact that Roman also is shyly looking down at the toes he’s currently wiggling to busy himself, you both miss the way the other is blushing. 

‘But...uh’, he starts finally after a moment of contemplation: a blessed few minutes of serendipitous indulgence, of growing warmth and familiarity, and just enough time for the two of you to realise how much your presence and conversation had only furthered endeared the two of you to each other, despite the hint of sadness that laced it. 

‘I really - I mean, my dad was like, always busy.’ He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed by the way you tilt your head and look quizzically at him. He becomes hyper aware of how close his knee is to resting against yours, and decides to swallow the fear that seems to be clogging up the back of his throat, and shuffles forward until there’s finally contact. ‘And my brother was like, following in his footsteps and all that jazz’, his eyes widen as he holds his hands out by his side. ‘So there wasn’t really much time for... fun, I guess. Or mistakes. Or family.’

It breaks your heart to watch him deflate once he finishes speaking, and suddenly the austere, cold walls and empty, hollow halls of his apartment make all the more sense. He looks so worn out, so tired of having to hide himself away behind a big, empty mansion full of props and antiques and nothingness all put out for show, because that’s what he was. That’s how he saw himself. A big, empty, tired, twisted puppet trying to bend over backwards to escape the marionette strings of daddy’s love, not realising they’re choking him. It was a strategy, a way to protect himself: to become placid, to mask yourself as being one of them, to fit in with his father’s lifestyle, and maybe then the slaps and strikes and kicks and whimpers would feel like something good. Because he’s trying to be just like his father. So if he’s hit, it’s only because the puppet hasn’t quite danced to the right tune, that’s all. 

As you glance around, you finally begin to notice how unused all the furniture in Roman’s apartment looks: the cellarette by the bar that looks as if it had been varnished yesterday, to the large screen television on the either side of the elongated room that Roman clearly only put on once a night to watch the news, to the velvet cushioned armchair positioned to sweep out and look across the skyline of the city, yet the headrest didn’t even have a dent. All these things. All this barrenness. It made you sick to your stomach. Here he was: a toy left on the shelf to collect dust, taken out to play with only when it suited the puppet master, and he was still so desperate for love that he still tried to copy his father. 

And you could see from the way his eyes were beginning to turn blood shot as he slowly sat there and turned the cogs in the back of his brain over, that this was a thought he had had many times before.

You try your best not to look at him too pitifully, in case he might take offence and retreat back into his shell again when you hold out your hands to him. He swallows thickly, watching your every movement as your fingers unfurl over his knees, and you signal at him to come closer. For a moment, as he squints his eyes at you, he seems tentative. But then you roll your eyes, trying your best to still seem casual, and flutter your fingers at him again. 

It takes less than a second for him to latch on this time, and his fingers grip into the sides of your skin so tightly you’re afraid he may draw blood. But then, you suppose, that’s all he’s been familiarised with.

‘It’s fine, I’m fine’, he tries to shrug it off, but his fingers only squeeze into yours all the more desperately. Worried he’ll try and pull away if you keep them suspended between your touching knees, you slowly pull them down to rest on your lap as he continues talking. He begins to play with your fingers almost subconsciously, looping them through his stout ones. ‘I mean, sure, my earliest memory is Shiv trying to drown me in the pool because she didn’t want so many older brothers to take all of daddy’s attention away from her. And Ken was never really present, dad was always shipping him away to some conference training or having him sit at his feet like his lap dog, but it’s fine. I’m fine. I grew up to be a well adjusted adult without any concerning issues at all.’

Although his tone is mocking, once he’s finished his rambling thought he lets go of your hand to rub his eyes. He does a half-yawn to try and cover the fact that they’re becoming rather bleary - to hide the fact that this is beginning to get at him, actually. And he’d rather stop now, if that’s alright. He’s the jokester in the family. The happy man. The go to cheer-upper. The pathetic one. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to cry in front of you. He was never allowed to cry.

He jumps when he feels your hand against his knee, and he sniffles slightly when he looks down and sees you’ve leaned closer towards him. ‘And your dad?’, you ask quietly, cautiously, pulling the hand of his you were still holding tightly into your sternum. ‘What was he like growing up?’

‘Well, I was annoying. I- I am annoying, so, you know-’

He chokes then, and this time he can’t stop the sob that breaks out from the back of his throat like an overdue bell chime.

‘I’m annoying. I’m fucking annoying, you know that?’, he chokes out between sobs, doubling over on himself, but he’s still laughing between each gasping breathe. ‘I’m such a piece of shit’, he states, doing his best to stop his lip from wobbling and the tears from clouding out of his eyes, but he doesn’t complain when you take your hand off his lap and guide it to the small of his back, just before the dip in his shoulder blades. Gently - ever so gently, as if you were cradling a new born child still so unused to human touch, you guide him down to lie on your legs. He goes easily, taking his hands back to lean them under his chin, and allowing you full utility of your fingers. You put them to good use, beginning to stoke back stray curls of his mother’s hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear until his breathing evens again.

He watches the sun fall over the edge of the Waystar Royco building: a sight he has seen many times before, but one that feels all the more eerie as the slates of dark metal blot out the light like a flashy tomb.

You bring him back, pursing your lips together and trying not to laugh sorrowfully as he sneezes at the feel of your finger moving down his forehead to trace over the dip of his nose, and evidently tickle it. You move onto the curve of his left eye, and it fills you with at least a little comfort to notice the way he squeezes his eyes shut at the movement. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks of his eyes and began to trace down the old bruised shaped hollows of his cheeks.

‘God Roman’, you choke out, trying to gently turn his head so he’s looking up at you. For a moment, he throws a tantrum and shakes his head in refusal, but your fingers are unrelenting and all forgiving against the side of his jaw, and soon he can’t help but give in to the love he’s so desperately begging for. He allows you to turn him, still squirming in your touch, until the two of you make eye contact. And there’s such naivety there, such desire and craving and conviction and belief as he keeps his eyes trained wholly on yours, that the words just come tumbling out of your mouth.

‘I’m going to fight your whole family I swear. I’m going to fight them all, one by one, and then take over Waystar, maybe find out what the fuck is going on between this Cousin of yours and Shiv’s husband’, he chortles at that, and chokes a little, ‘and then the two of us can burn the place to the ground and ride off into the sunset.’

Although he feels only elation at your words, he starts to shake when you use the pads of his thumbs to gently, tenderly wipe the tears away from beside his nose.

‘Stop, please’, he whimpers, but you know he’s not talking about your physical actions. ‘My dad’s never going to die, even if he is gone. Just- just- get out while you can, okay? Just fucking run.’ He grabs up at your hands, and holds onto one intently. ‘Just fucking go, okay, because I will destroy you. I’m- fucking poison, alright?’

‘No, no’, you state more firmly, when you see the creases in his forehead begin to appear. He shakes his head, and his whole face crinkles up when you admit the one thing left unspoken between the two of you.

‘You - you’re worth it. You’re worth putting up with all of this for, Roman Roy. One day, you’ll be free, and we’ll get to make new memories. Better ones.’

‘Just shut up. Shut the fuck up. Please. Just-’

His words die out on his mouth when you lean down swiftly and replace them with your waiting lips. His hand falls from where it was encircling your wrist, and after a moment of stunned shock, comes up to press firmly against the nape of your neck. His widened eyes melt slowly into a blissful, languid close, and despite the fact that he has no fucking idea how to actually kiss someone he cares about, he does a mighty good job of latching onto your bottom lip and whimpering when you go to pull away.

‘You promise’, he whispers into the tense air between the tip of your nose and the side of his stubble. He leans up to kiss you again, and a bite of saltiness stings at your mouth. ‘You promise’, he murmurs again as he opens his mouth, refusing to break away from the kiss: instead breathing you in and licking the tip of his tongue against your own. Steadying yourself, you grip onto his biceps, and press a last, ardent kiss to his mouth by latching onto his top lip.

‘I swear, Roman, I swear to god I’m going to make up for all the lack of love your family has given you. And I’ll start right now.’

#succession #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #succession imagine #kendall roy #shiv roy #connor roy #logan roy #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #kieran culkin #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction

[rauberrauber]

line up baby

wanted to make a sort of ref for everyone so i can keep track of everyone's designs, heights, etc

side hcs below cuz i wanna ramble lol

fyi any links are just for pictures to help visualize what im trying to say

also add to these with ur own i love reading hcs :]

general:

the sides work with a kind of cartoon logic (kinda like who framed Roger rabbit) which is what their shape shifting and such is, they can survive pretty much everything, dont bend to reality type thing

i also dig playing around with the idea that they just arent human, they dont need to eat, sleep, even breathe or blink if they dont wanna. They just play more human around thomas so they dont freak him out (everyone but remus at least, dude doesnt give a fuck lol) they all have their priorities regarding that kinda stuff. like logan doesnt eat or sleep almost at all (there r exceptions tho obvi (crofters))  while patton rly likes to cook and bake so why not eat the stuff you make? meanwhile remus eats literally anything he can find

they can also float if they wanna, same thing where they just dont around thomas. this came about me just imagining remus consistently floating around in the mindscape instead of walking for whatever reason? so yeah they can do that

theres a core mindscape and a ‘dark’ mindscape, that sorta works like the upside down from stranger things (as in the dark mindscape is like literally upside down and mirrors everything, like this)

everyones also got their own unique doors to their rooms. logans is very sleek and modern, pattons in more childlike and almost vintage, romans resemble castle doors while remus’ is more like a dungeons, virgils is typically angsty teenager with tons of posters and ‘keep out’ signs, and janus has tons of locks on his

design wise the core sides have straight teeth and fluffier hair while the dark sides have sharp teeth and rougher(?) hair (since changing, virgil has vampire-esque fangs)

logan:

square rimmed glasses

loves the rain

unintentionally fidgets with his clothes, always adjusting his glasses or rolling his sleeves up and down or messing with the buttons or his tie

playing more into the whole ‘sides dont have to eat thing’ he finds food kinda nasty lol, again only rly eats stuff thats very good to him (ultimate picky eater basically) patton has tried and failed many times to get logan to try and like new foods

roman was the one who got him to try crofters

watches those long ass video essays about random topics on youtube for background noise

patton:

round glasses and heart eyes

has roller blades/skates! specifically these ones that retract the wheels. good way of getting energy out (even if hes super clumsy with them)

tallest + dad bod

tons of bandages, kinda playing around with the phrase ‘broken heart’

him and janus play video games together (both of them are terrible lol)

definitely listens to dad rock/dad music

roman:

starry eyes!

crown can float on its own (same w/ remus’)

has one of these couches in his room to dramatically faint onto

him and remus dont share a room, but they have a sort of portal to each others rooms if that makes sense. a big mirror but instead of reflecting, its showing into the other room and only the twins can go thru

wants to be his own side after the split

roman and remus pierced each others ears when they were younger

virgil:

decently tall but slouches a lot which hides it (slouching hes shorter than the twins but still taller than janus) also rarely stands or sits straight at all so it kinda shocked the core sides when he showed them how tall he rly was (queue roman being mad cuz hes actually the shortest of the main four lol)

has stereotypical emo hair and still has some purple dye in it

hot topic skeleton fingerless gloves and muddy sneakers (idk why it just feels right)

tons of random bruises

draws his nails black with sharpie

listens to metal music to calm down. remus got him into a lot of numetal, screamo kinda music when virgil was still one of the others, it was one of the few times theyd hang out and virgil wasnt 100% freaked out by remus

definitely experimented with scene fashion when thomas was a teenager

drinks tons of energy drinks

janus:

shortest ha

yellow eyes

bow wrapped on his hat

long flowy cape and heeled shoes with spats (thats what theyre called right?)

uses the staff from pof as a walking cane

speaks fluent pig latin, remus and logan are the only ones who can somewhat understand what he says (remus cuz hes been around janus so long, and logan wanting to research and understand whatever the hell janus is saying) it also has always drove virgil up the wall cuz hes never been able to get it, janus will start speaking it just to annoy him

only rly relaxes when by himself, always kinda putting on a mask with the others and thomas, regardless of how trustworthy he considers them

constantly coming up with proper plans and schemes, typically wouldnt let remus near them with a 10 foot pole (affectionately)

knows how to lockpick

scared of the ocean

remus: 

broken crown

eyes can go all crazy, pupils can be different sizes and such (there was a cartoon that did this where the eyes would go red and have a ton of rings around the pupils like spirals kinda? i cant find a pic of what im rly visualizing rip i hope that makes sense)

ton of rings (one of em is an eyeball ring)

is like half an inch taller than roman and will never let him live it down

enjoys all the ‘bad’ disney/pixar movies. (cars, home on the range, etc) and like unironically enjoys them. prolly started ironically to mess with roman but he genuinely find those ones the best and cant fathom why theyre disliked (totally not self-indulgent cuz some of those movies are my favorites)

comes up with random weird plans and ropes janus into them whenever possible, janus plays along best he can

somewhat wants to fuse back with roman (even if hes unsure why)

remus and virge used to make fun of roman together all the time

remus is the one who gave virge his septum and gages

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides headcanon #ts #tss #logic sanders #morality sanders #creativity sanders #creativitwins #anxiety sanders #deceit sanders #weapon tw #food mention #ask to tag

[xstarlightxstarbrightx]

Lumi headcanons

i have dragged myself outta the hell that's been my weekend and have FINALLY cobbled together all of my thoughts abt Lumine,,, it's a lot so bear w/ me bc i love her so so so much. the big list of h/c's: - extroverted lumi,,, - tired older sister / mom of Paimon. Paimon may know more about Teyvat than Lumine does, but Lumine's the one who takes care of Paimon and guides her through the harder things in life; definitely gives the vibes of Paimon being a kid sister and Lumine being very protective of her. somewhat mother but also not??? definitely the adult between the two smh - incredibly smart. very perceptive with a lotta intuition. i mean, you need to be able to be quick on the draw if you're going to be traveling nonstop, y'know?? - paragon Lumi is my roman empire. - frugal as SHIT, penny pincher extraordinaire. Paimon has yet to find all the emergency funds, and Lumine is adamant on KEEPING it that way. - abandonment issues. listen,,, listen she's got em, we all know she does, and i feel like she gets very attached to people but doesn't really let them know. - stemming from abandonment issues, I feel like she's got this issue of putting the weight of the world on her shoulders? like she cannot let herself feel negative emotions and bottles up a lot of the bad shit she deals with. her belief is that if she's not being a positive force, she's failing everyone around her and they'll one day leave her behind. - adding onto that bit, it definitely shows through the fact that she's not quick to actually anger. like her anger is VERY VERY rare, and usually she's very relaxed and tries to work through things as calmly as possible. - despite lumi being slow to anger, she's def violent in a mischievous gremlin way. definitely gives the vibe of 'u called me short, i am consuming ur knee caps'. But this is more of a bit and something to do as an intimidation tactic for ppl who don't know her, and it feels very accurate tbh - Lumi is bilingual, nothing more needs to be said. - she has scars. like a few of em, too. Mostly from her adventures in Teyvat, since she's less durable than she's used to being??? She has some scars from her fight against Dvalin, a scar or two from fighting Childe, a LOT of scars from Inazuma, as well as scars from using the elements!! - on the topic of scars, i DO believe she has scars from losing her wings in the fight with the Unknown God. and like, this hurts her. she feels such intense guilt over what happened and how she failed to protect her brother. she would gladly boast to you about any of her scars, but if you mention the ones on her back, she gets,,, quiet,,,, - i have done a deep dive dissection of the differences between the twin's elemental animations, and one day i will post that i swear; but for now all imma say is that Lumi struggles w/ Geo element the most. - fear of failure! i mentioned it before, but I personally feel like this has such a huge affect on her? - speaking of fears; CLAUSTROPHOBIA! listen, lumi definitely feels like she'd be claustrophobic, can't handle tight spaces. she also is terrified of the Abyss specifically, but tight spaces? unable to move? feeling trapped???? yeah, she's got that besties. - she feels like such a mom sometimes i s2g. like some of these characters feels like characters she would call her kids teasingly. personally believe Bennett called her "mom" once and he hasn't been able to live it down since b/c she refuses to answer to anything else from him now. - protective Lumi is my favorite, nothing more to add. - Lumine is very dancer-like in a lot of her animations, so me personally i think she would be a good dancer ong. - GOD tiered Cook, she's so fuckin good at that shit, like girl can crack just about any damn recipe she gets.

OKAY,,, I THINK,,,,,,,,,,,, I THINK I GOT THEM ALL DOWN,,,,,,,,,,

this went way longer than i meant, the brain worms ate through my skull and i got very carried away. but also it feels good to have the general gist of it all down,,, my beloved lumine i adore u so so much,,,,

anyway these were my h/c's for Lumi, i'll work on Kaeya next i think b/c i have Many Thoughts (tm) on him. :)c

#genshin impact #lumine #genshin headcanons #female traveler #genshin traveler #headcanon #brain worms #the brainrot is real #i have a problem #send help #i cannot stop thinking about her #she is my everything i think i would die for her #if u have questions i dont know if i have answers #a lot of these come from the voice lines u can find in her profile #like genuinely #i love the travelers as characters #obsessed with it #lumine my beloved

[mewling-central]

Introduction to Collective Seraphic

Now that Seraphic's at a stable place, I think I'm gonna take some time to delve into the basics of how it operates. For this post I'll only be going into the language itself and not the writing system, as that's going to need a post of its own to elaborate on. I'll try to keep this as concise as possible, but I may make separate posts expanding on topics discussed in this one. So, without further ado, onto the infodump!

Background

Collective Seraphic (which I'll be referring to as "Seraphic") is an artlang that I've created for a comic that as of this post I have not began yet, but am still developing. The majority of the comic will take place on the Seraph Homeworld, an alien planet some 3,000 lightyears from Earth populated by the seraph species (pictured below):

Within the story, Seraphic acts as the lingua franca of the Seraph Homeworld and the many colonized planets under Seraph control. It's used in the government, and among speakers of differing languages. As such, this language was the first one that I knew I would need to make as it will play a vital role in both the storytelling and narrative structure.

Syntax

Seraphic is largely a fusional language, employing affixes to modify the semantic role and meaning of morphemes. Seraphic does not, in the traditional sense, have verbs, so the sentence structure is strictly subject-object (will expand upon later). Nouns decline for number and tense, and are grouped into seven noun classes. Adjectives agree with nouns in number, except if derived from nouns themselves, in which case they'll also agree in class. Seraphic is very head-initial; with demonstratives, numerals, possesives, adjectives, genitives, and relative clauses following the noun the modify; and prepositions preceeding the nouns they modify. Auxiliaries preceed procedurals (again, will expand upon later).

Phonology

Here is the phonological chart for Seraphic:

It has a syllable structure of (CC)V(CC). Plosives cannot exist word finally, clusters of consonants of the same manner are illegal, and vowel clusters are also not permitted. Syllabic consonants are grouped with vowels and behave much like them, carrying tone and stress, so they together are grouped and referred to as vocalics. Seraphic is a tonal language, employing the use of four tones: rising (á), falling (à), high (ā), and low (a). Low tones remained unmarked in both the Seraphic script and in romanization. Stress is syllable-independant. It will take either the ultimate, penultimate, or rarely the antepenultimate. Stress always falls on the syllable with a voiceless initial obstruent nearest to the end of the word. If none are available, it will fall on the syllable with an initial sonorant within the same parameters. Stress will never fall on a voiced obstruent. For clarity, I'll provide a key describing the pronunciation of the romanization.

Sounds that are similarly pronounced as they're read in American English:

m, n, p, b, t, d, k, g, f, v, s, z, y, w, l

Sounds that have special pronunciations:

ŋ, like the ng in English "sing"

p', like the ጴ in Amharic "ጴጥሮስ"

t', like the t' in Navajo "yá'át'ééh"

k', like the კ in Georgian "კაბა"

', like the the space within English "uh-oh"

c, like the sh in English "sharp"

j, like the s in English "measure"

x, like the gh in English "ugh"

ğ, like the γ in Greek "γάλα"

pf, like the pf in German "Pfirsiche"

ts, like the z in Italian "grazia"

tc, like the ch in English "chain"

kx, like the kh in Lakota "lakhóta"

r, like the rr in Spanish "perro", although occasionally like the r in Spanish "amarillo"

i, like the ee in English "meet"

į, like the ы in Russian "ты"

u, like the oo in English "boot"

e, like the é in French "beauté"

œ, like the a in English "Tina"

o, like the o in Classical Latin "sol"

a, like the a in English "bra" although this can change to be more forward or more backward.

Another letter that might trip people up is ł, which is meant to represent the high tone syllabic 'l'. Otherwise, syllabics are written the same as their pulmonic counterparts, with tone markers written when applicable.

Nouns

Nouns make up the bulk of the Seraphic lexicon. Every noun is grouped into one of seven classes:

Solar class: nouns related to seraphim or seraph-like beings, and seraph body parts. Prefix appears as zā-, zō-, zē-, s-, or ts-.

sēr = "person"

Astral class: nouns related to non-seraph animate lifeforms (their equivalent to "animals"). Prefix appears as ğr-, x, or kx-.

xuc = "cherub"

Vital class: nouns related to inanimate lifeforms (their equivalent to "plants"). Prefix appears as wā-, wō, w-, ū-, wē-, or wī-.

wējlux = "tree"

Terranean class: nouns related to landscapes, locations, and natural phenomena. Prefix appears as va-, vo-, vu-, f-, and pf-.

voxāl = "sun"

Metallic class: nouns related to inanimate objects, both natural and artificial. Prefix appears as ja-, jo-, c-, or tc-.

jağrú = "rock"

Lunar class: nouns related to abstract concepts, and terms related to time. Prefix appears as la-, lo-, le-, li-, y-, or l/ł-.

levren = "job"

Oceanic class: nouns related to general words, tangible concepts, numbers, all adjectives, and non-incorporated loanwords. Prefix appears as a/ā-, o/ō-, or aw-.

awuf = "group"

Adjectives do not agree in class, due to the fact that nouns originally are derived from adjectives, and noun classes acted as a way to differentiate between nouns and adjectives.

fa = "warm, hot"

jafa = "fire" (lit. "a hot thing")

When adjectives are used as predicatives, they decline into the oceanic class in order to take the procedurals (once more, will expand upon later).

Nouns also decline for four numbers: singular (one thing, usually unmarked), dual (two things, both things; suffixes as -ac, -oc, -œc, or -c), plural (things, many thing; suffixes as -n, -an, or -in), and collective (every thing, all things; suffixes as -āf/ōf, -áf/-óf, or -'ōf).

Seraphic doesn't use pronouns. Everything and everyone is referred to by name, including yourself. From our perspective, the Seraphic language constantly speaks in the third person. However, it can be repetitive to use the same name over and over again in a sentence, and sometimes you don't know the name of things, so they'll apply what I've called pro-forms. They consist of the demonstrative adjectives fl "this", sl "that", and xl "yon" declined into the Solar class and taking the place of the first, second, and third person respectively. For ease of reference, I'll provide the forms and their declensions below.

zāfl (I/me), zāflc (both of us), zāvlin (we/us), zāfláf (all of us)

zāsl (you), zāslc (both of you), zāzlin (you guys), zāsláf (all of you)

zōxl (they), zōxlc (both of them), zōğlin (many of them), zōxláf (all of them)

Seraphic makes no distinction in the gender of the speaker, in this regard. Although these resemble pronouns, they're not meant to be used as often as regular pronouns, and whenever possible it's much preferred that you refer to someone or something by name.

Adjectives and Prepositions

Adjectives are fairly straightforward. Adjectives follow the noun they modify (e.g. sēr tan "big person"), and agree with them in number (e.g. sēr tan "big person" vs sērn t'aŋon "big people"). Adjectives agree in the singular form with singular and collective nouns, and they agree in the plural form with dual and plural nouns.

There are three main types of adjectives: native adjectives (e.g. cna "good"), borrowed adjectives (e.g. anzn "nice"), and noun-derived adjectives (e.g. arfi/ofi "new"). Native and borrowed adjectives don't agree with noun classes, but noun-derived adjectives do. It originated from the animacy-based adjective agreement system in Proto-Seraphic, which has been lost in all other adjective instances. When you want to make a noun into an adjective you'll affix one of two prefixes to it: ar- (if agreeing with Solar, Astral, and Vital nouns) and o- (if agreeing with Terranean, Metallic, Lunar, and Oceanic nouns). There are specific rules on the forms each prefix takes based on the noun they're attached to:

"ār-" when preceeding high or falling vocalic syllables (e.g. sēr ārzājna "popular person")

"ar-" when preceeding low or rising vocalic syllables (e.g. wēn arfe "local fruit")

"ó-" when preceeding high or falling vocalic syllables (e.g. lalel ówē "grassy flavor")

"o-" when preceeding low or falling vocalic syllables (e.g. lesar olvulvren "economic problem")

"ōw-" when preceeding words that start with a vocalic (e.g. lnin ōwāsāvbas "momentary event")

Prepositions occur before the nouns they modify, and don't change form in any circumstance. There are currently 19 prepositions in the modern language, and they are usually connected to nouns via a hyphen (e.g. e-fe "at (the) place"):

cu = of; indicates possession

pr̄ = indicates the indirect object, equivalent to "to" in the phrase "The man sends the letter to me."

in/īn = as or like; indicates similarity or resemblance. Will either be low or high tone depending on the tone of the following syllable.

e/ē = at or on; indicates location.

tsa = near or for; indicates relative distance from a location or an action performed for the sake of the referent.

cni = without; indicates a lack of possession or company.

wa = in or inside of; indicates interior position.

tn = on top of, above, or before; indicates superior position or a prior instance in time.

pux = under, beneath, or after; indicates inferior position or a following instance in time.

pi = with, together with; indicates being in company of or making use of the referent.

fān = from or away from; indicates the motion of leaving the referent.

ku = out of; indicates motion from within the referent towards the exterior.

tun = into or through; indicates motion from outside the referent towards the interior.

xel = to or towards; indicates the motion of approaching the referent.

kxun = across; indicates motion from one location to another

pn̄ = around; indicates location surrounding the referrent.

cāza = between; indicates location in the middle of the referrent.

tē = after, behind; indicates posterior position.

fr = during; indicates a moment in time

Prepositions aren't combined in Collective Seraphic, but may be in certain instances in colloquial speech.

Procedurals

Okay, this is probably the most complicated part of Seraphic, so I'm going to need to get into things individually. First, I'll start with defining a procedural itself. Procedurals are the term I use for the prefixes used to describe the relationship or process of and between the agent noun and the patient noun. These are what act as the equivalent to "verbs" in earth languages. There are three in use:

Existential: used to denote a state of being or equivalence between agent and patient, or to the patient and itself. Equivalent to English "to be" (e.g. A is B, there is B). Usually prefixes as some variant of n-, m-, or ŋ-.

Actional: used to denote an action or process between the agent and patient, or with the patient and itself. Equivalent to English "to do" or "to act upon" (e.g. A acts upon B). Carries a connotation of agency and intent. Usually prefixes as some variant of re-, ra-, or r-.

Resultative: used to denote an occurence or change in state between agent and patient, or patient and itself. Equivalent to English "to become", "to happen", or "to change into" (e.g. A becomes B, B happens to A). Carries a connotation of passiveness or motion. Usually prefixes as some varient of ed- or ez-.

The procedural will change its form slightly depending on the class and declension pattern of the noun it modifies. It always affixes to the patient noun, demonstrating a relationship of an action and what is being acted upon. In this way, the patient can be clearly identified. In transitive or causative clauses, the word order is always S(P)O, with the agent acting as the subject and the patient as the object. In intransitive and passive clauses, the word order is always (P)S, with the patient acting as the subject and the agent demoted to the indirect object or omitted entirely.

Although seemingly limiting, using these three procedural, as well as prepositions, nouns, and adjectives, altogether can be used to make all sorts of verb equivalents that are called "procedural phrases". I'll demonstrate how to build a sentence now. First thing we need to know is the subject and object:

Sāx ... jafa (The child ... the fire)

Next, I'll add the actional procedural in the present tense to this.

Sāx rejafa (The child acts upon the fire)

By itself this is technically grammatically correct, but it doesn't really mean anything. It's too broad. So we add a prepositional phrase to specify exactly what action the child is taking towards the fire.

Sāx pi-sīman rejafa (The childs acts upon the fire with (their) eyes)

Now we know that the child is performing an action involving the use of their eyes. Now of course this could mean many different things in English, but in Seraphic the first thing that comes to mind would be fairly obvious: to see! Thus, "Sāx pi-sīman rejafa" would be the same as saying "The child sees the fire" in English! There are a lot of set phrases that equate to verbs, and remain consistent in their arrangement. Often differing phrases are a useful way to ascertain where someone is from or what their first language is.

Tense and Aspect

Seraphic has six main tenses: two pasts, two presents, and two futures. The two pasts consist of the recent past (happening recently) and the remote past (happening a long time ago), and they prefix and/or combine with the procedural.

Sāx pi-sīman ğrejafa (The child just saw the fire)

Sāx pi-sīman eğrejafa (The child saw the fire a while ago)

Similarly, the future tenses consist of the near future (will happen soon) and the distant future (will happen eventually).

Sāx pi-sīman drejafa (The child will soon see the fire)

Sāx pi-sīman izrejafa (The child will eventually see the fire)

The present tenses consist of a general present tense (happens) and the infinitive (to happen) which is used with auxiliaries and copulae and carries no presence in time.

Sāx pi-sīman rejafa (The child sees the fire)

Pi-sīman ezrejafa (To see a fire)

Whether someone considers an event to be nearer or farther in time from them is completely up to their discretion. There's no set timeframe for when to use the recent vs. remote past, it's all fairly subjective. However, whether you decide to use the recent or remote can really indicate whether you believe something to be in the distant past or future, or just a few moments ago or soon.

Seraphic also makes use of two copulae, the perfective -r and the imperfective -l, helping clitics that expand on the aspect of the procedural, i.e. how the procedural happens over time instead of when in time. The copulae are separate from the procedural, being placed directly before it and conjugating on their own similarly to the lexical procedural. When the copulae are in use, they are conjugated instead of the lexical procedural, while the lexical will be put into the infinitive. The exception to this is if the point in time is considered necessary to be stated for the sake of clarity or emphasis, in which case the lexical verb will also conjugate (though this isn't considered to be the default). The two copulae each conjugate to six tenses, and give 12 individual aspects in total. They are as follows, starting with the perfective:

āgxōnr - Pluperfect: indicates that the action happened at a point before some time in the past either specified or implied (e.g. āgxōnr nidsl "that has happened")

xōnr - Preterite: indicates that the action happened in the past with no reference to if it was completed recently or remotely. A general past (e.g. xōnr nidsl "that happened")

nar - Relative: indicates relative clauses, i.e. clauses that act to modify a noun similarly to an adjective. Equivalent to "that", "who", or "which" (e.g. lsl nar nidsl "the thing that happens")

ednr - Gnomic: indicates general truths, common knowledge, and aphorisms (e.g. ednr nezłsl "things happen")

t'enr - Future Simple: indicates the action will happen in the future with no regard to how near or far it is from the present (e.g. t'enr nidsl "that will happen")

āt'ēnr - Future Perfect: indicates that the action will happen before a time or event in the future (e.g. āt'ēnr nidsl "that will have happened")

And the imperfective:

ŋ̄xōzl - Discontinuous: indicates that an action was happening in the past, but is no longer happening in the present (e.g. ŋ̄xōzl nidsl "that used to happen")

xōzl - Habitual: indicates that an action is done often or out of habit (e.g. xōzl nidsl "that always happens")

īzl - Progressive: indicates that an action is happening at the very moment of conversation (e.g. īzl nidsl "that is happening")

nizl - Prospective: indicates that an action will be starting to, or is in the process of happening (e.g. nizl nidsl "that is about to happen")

t'ezl - Iterative: indicates that an action happens again, repeatedly, or more than one time based on context (e.g. t'ezl nidsl "that happens again" or "that happens again and again")

nt'ezl - Continuative: indicates that an action happens continuously and without end (e.g. nt'ezl nidsl "that still happens")

With both tense and aspects, this largely expands the capability of Seraphic in referring to time.

Moods

Seraphic makes use of seven modal particles to denote seven moods. They are always placed at the beginning of clauses, and no two modal particles can exist in the same clause. They are grouped into four categories: the declaritive (indicative and negative), the inferential (evidential and interrogative), the deontic (volitive and imperative), and the epistemic (subjunctive and conditional). They add extra clarity in the speakers mood or opinion concerning the clause they modify, and are as follows:

Indicative: base form of a clause. Indicates that the speaker is stating a fact or what exists, and is unmarked (e.g. idsl "that happens")

tu - Negative: indicates that the speaker is stating a fact that is untrue or what doesn't exist. Usually only appears in formal, official texts, as the first syllable of the procedural will chage tone to contrast as well and leaves the particle unneccesary in colloquial speech (e.g. tu īdsl "that doesn't happen")

cuc - Evidential: indicates that the speaker is stating a fact that they believe or understand to be true, regardless of having experienced it or not. (e.g. cuc idsl "apparently that happens") Direct evidentiality is denoted using a different method.

an/ān - Interrogative: indicates that the speaker is confirming whether a statement is or isn't true. Forms questions (e.g. an idsl? "does that happen?")

tcān - Volitive: indicates that the speaker desires for the statement to be true (e.g. tcān idsl "that wants to happen" or "that needs to happen" or "that should happen")

má - Imperative: indicates that the speaker is giving a command or suggestion, to themselves and/or to other referents. Functions additionally as a cohortative and a jussive (e.g. má idsl! "let that happen!")

tir - Subjunctive: indicates that the speaker believes the statement to be possible or likely (e.g. tir idsl "that could/would/might happen")

nun - Conditional: indicates that speaker believes the statement to be possible under specific circumstances or conditions (nun idsl "if/when that happens..."

Miscellaneous

That's about the basics of the Seraphic language outline. I'd like to eventually get into things like comparison, evidentiality, declension forms and the like, but those are all topics that definitely need their own individual posts. Real quick, I want to provide one more additional fact about Seraphic.

Seraphic uses base-16, meaning it groups numbers in sets of 16 instead of sets of 10 like we do. 1-16 would be written 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, A, B, C, D, E, F, 10. 10 would be read as 16, and equally 20 would be 32. They're still counting the same amount of things, they're just dividing it up differently!

Anyways that's about it, I hope to share more about Seraphic soon, and when the comic gets released I hope you'll all be able to read it and pick out the many many lines of Seraphic I've poured into it!

ŋKowīci cu-stux 'ōf tsa-levp'ā cu-zāsláf pi-lizt'n ğōdjasa! (Thank you all so much for reading!)

#conlang #constructed language #artlang #grammar #phonology #syntax #linguistics #seraphic #collective seraphic #info post #hope i didn't make a fool of myself in front of the whole community #accidentally showed the world i dont know shit abt linguistics gotdamn #im sure itll be fine #writing system tutorial forthcoming

[blueiskewl]

Very Rare Half-Shekel Coin From Year Three of the Great Revolt Discovered

Recent excavations by archaeologists from the Hebrew University in the Ophel area south of the Temple Mount uncovered the remains of a monumental public building from the Second Temple period that was destroyed in 70 CE.

Numerous Jewish coins, the majority of which were bronze, from the Great Revolt (66-70 CE) were discovered in the destruction layer. This collection also contained a particularly uncommon and rare discovery: a silver coin with a half-shekel denomination that dates to around 69/70 CE.

The Great Revolt was the first of several uprisings against the Roman Empire by the Jewish population of Judea.

The revolt was in response to the Romans’ increasing religious tensions and high taxation, which resulted in the looting of the Second Temple and the arrest of senior Jewish political and religious figures. A large-scale rebellion overran the Roman garrison in Judea, forcing the pro-Roman King Herod Agrippa II to abandon Jerusalem.

A coin discovered in the ruins of a Second Temple-era building was most likely used to pay an annual tax for worship at the site; most coins of this type are bronze.

The dig was carried out by a team from the Hebrew University, led by Prof. Uzi Leibner of the Institute of Archaeology, in partnership with the Herbert W. Armstrong College in Edmond, Oklahoma, and with the support of the East Jerusalem Development Company, the Israel Antiquities Authority, and the Israel Nature and Parks Authority. The rare coin was cleaned at the conservation laboratory of the Institute of Archaeology and identified by Dr. Yoav Farhi, the team’s numismatic expert and curator of the Kadman Numismatic Pavilion at the Eretz Israel Museum in Tel Aviv.

“This is the third coin of this type found in excavations in Jerusalem, and one of the few ever found in archeological excavations,” said the researchers.

During the Great Revolt against Rome, the Jews in Jerusalem minted bronze and silver coins. Most of the silver coins featured a goblet on one side, with ancient Hebrew script above it noting the year of the Revolt. Depending on its denomination, the coins also included an inscription around the border noting either, “Israel Shekel,” “Half-Shekel,” or “Quarter-Shekel.” The other side of these coins showcased a branch with three pomegranates, surrounded by an inscription in ancient Hebrew script, “Holy Jerusalem.”

Throughout the Roman era the authority to produce silver coins was reserved solely for the emperor. During the Revolt, the minting of coins, especially those made of silver, was a political statement and an expression of national liberation from Roman rule by the Jewish rebels. Indeed, throughout the Roman period leading up to the Great Revolt, no silver coins were minted by Jews, not even during the rule of King Herod the Great.

According to the researchers, half-shekel coins (which had an average weight of 7 grams) were also used to pay the “half-shekel” tax to the Temple, contributed annually by every Jewish adult male to help cover the costs of worship.

Dr. Farhi explained, “Until the revolt, it was customary to pay the half-shekel tax using good-quality silver coins minted in Tyre in Lebanon, known as ‘Tyrean shekels’ or ‘Tyrean half-shekels.’ These coins held the image of Herakles-Melqart, the principal deity of Tyre, and on the reverse they featured an eagle surrounded by a Greek inscription, ‘Tyre the holy and city of refuge.’ Thus, the silver coins produced by the rebels were intended to also serve as a replacement for the Tyrean coins, by using more appropriate inscriptions and replacing images (forbidden by the Second Commandment) with symbols. The silver coins from the Great Revolt were the first and the last in ancient times to bear the title ‘shekel.’ The next time this name was used was in 1980, on Israeli Shekel coins produced by the Bank of Israel.”

The precious silver coins are thought to have been minted inside the Temple complex, according to a Monday statement from the Armstrong Institute.

#Very Rare Half-Shekel Coin From Year Three of the Great Revolt Discovered #temple mount #Great Revolt against Rome #coins #silver coins #collectable coins #ancient coins #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #ancient israel

[sanderstime]

THE NEW SANDERS ASIDES

-spoilers ahead y'all- Okay, as a huge Analogical fan I count this episode as a huge win. Virgil literally, got him the perfect gift he knew he'd love. You could tell he was trying to get him to open it and look too and got frustrated when the Remus and Janus but in. also Remus and Janus trying to get Logan all mad... woooof they like to stir up trouble. Maybe some other time, guys. I love how Roman conceded and gave Janus an actual gift, despite the kinda deserved slap (but only once he saw Janus didn't trick patton ...) and Janus giving Patton a gift similar to what Virgil did on the last christmas secret santa they did either proves that the dark sides think alike or that Patton just really loves home made cards. and Virgil picking up Mr. Fuzzy with his sweater sleeves just... and the way he delivers his lines as Virgil in that clip are so funny. Virgil as a whole point really stands out to me the entire time, every one liner is a hit.

"Oh yeah he did. My bad Remus." and his determination not to look at it too... so funny. Also Roman and Logan getting along, Logan instigating them hanging out too... a rare Logince W. Patton really feels like Patton this episode, in the best way possible. AND THE CUTE GIFT GIVING SCENE BETWEEN THOMAS AND NICO I WILL SOB. JUST AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(I did laugh a little when it focused on the clip of Nico's face.)

#thomas sanders #sanders sides

[transmutationisms]

hi! feel free to not answer this but i was wondering if you had any thoughts on roman’s issues with food? ik kieran has mentioned playing him w/ an ed in mind

yeah i'll stick this in my roman / food / cannibalism tag if you want to scroll through it. but yes i do have thoughts on the way roman engages with food.

all of the roys have fucked up eating behaviours. for roman specifically, we often see him snacking on fruit but rarely see him eating meals, especially in family settings. obviously there's also the scene of him body-checking in episode 3, and other shots scattered throughout the show where he'll be checking his appearance in mirrors. he also drinks a lot of alcohol (again, his whole family does), including like, ordering the same beer as eduard (pickme moment). and there's that line about logan beating him with a slipper for ordering lobster in gstaad, which obviously also recalls the general pattern of physical abuse we know roman faced.

so stringing that all together, roman is very alienated from his body, specifically in a way where he monitors his physical appearance and associates his body with pain much more than pleasure. he doesn't see pleasure as something that he 'deserves' and this obviously ties in with his food-shyness. he's trying to purify and transcend his body, in a manner reminiscent of a fasting saint, where of course logan is god in this analogy. roman feels trapped by the experience of having a body and disgusted by his own, which his father hits and demeans and tries to discipline, eg via military school. he can subsist off 'light' things like fruit and alcohol (very medieval fasting girl of him) but tends to balk when it comes to something substantial.

i also think it's important to note that roman does occasionally loosen up a bit, like when he took that bite of cake in front of connor at the terrible rehearsal dinner. in that situation, logan isn't there and connor isn't someone who's above roman in the hierarchy (they're both outcasts and weak dogs) so roman is able to eat in a way he can't with logan (and logan would never invite him to, eg the logan-kendall burger scene in episode 6 would never happen with roman). this goes back to how food, with the roys, is more of a tool of business and sociality than a vehicle to pleasure. they're all alienated from their bodies in different ways and for roman this results in a specifically girlish and restrictive eating pattern.

#you eat me i eat you

[theotomeasexual]

IkePri w/in historical European borders—why it works and doesn’t work at the same time

as someone with a history degree studying early modern Europe, i’ve absolutely snowballed on this one…it all started with the italian ass sounding names from Benitoite—which is what makes the accuracy of this so impossible.

Benitoite, when compared to the 1648 map (first modern borders in Europe, chosen specifically for the separate Italian kingdoms), matches with the Venetian territory.

Jadeite, following suit, falls into French territory (Swiss/French/German) based off of Benitoite’s location.

Obsidian is to the NE of Rhodolite and Benitoite, making it line up w/ Austria and what will later be known as the Austro-Hungarian Empire. it’s believed that as Obsidian’s expansion continued, it most likely pushed into Slavic land to the east.

This makes Rhodolite the HRE/Holy Roman Empire by default.

THIS DOES NOT MEAN THAT THIS LIST IS ACCURATE IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM.

based on the compass provided in the original map’s top right corner, it might mean that the map is loosely based off of these countries/only take influence from specific countries or nations. that being said, there are a few things that line up quite nicely about each country and their assigned locations.

obviously, Benitoite introduces incredibly italian sounding names such as (i.e. the last name, ricci, the first names of all princes, silvio, valerio, emidio/emilio)

Benitoite is frequently mentioned to be teeming with merchants, comparable to Venetians

Jade is a relatively peaceful country w/ many agreements—similar to Switzerland during the early modern period

the HRE is made up of different principalities rules by princes—similar to the system in which each Rhodolite prince rules his own land

the HR emperor is also elected, which becomes simplified to election via Belle in ikepri

the Austrians, particularly Hapsburg, liked to marry Germans when other Hapsburgs weren’t available…making Yves’s birth and abandonment by Obsidian a possibility to think over

of course, there are also reasons why this doesn’t make sense

little is known about Obsidian past their brutal history/actions—hard to compare to a real country

again, i had to turn the official map off of its original axis to line them up

the HRE is not a kingdom, it’s an empire…therefore, it would not be an elected KING like Rhodolite

where are the Swiss Alps? if we’re comparing maps, there obviously needs to be a mountain range between Benitoite and Jade

the same goes for the mountain range presented between Benitoite and Obsidian—geographic discrepancies

something you might’ve noticed (or maybe not)

all of these countries are named after stones/gemstones

Rhodolite — a reddish colored gemstone, only European natural source can be found in Norway

Benitoite — rare mineral, blue to light blue in color…not found in Europe, but can be found in Japan

Jade — a green mineral often used in jewelry or accessories, majorly exported by Myanmar

Obsidian — a dark colored stone, forms with cooling volcanic lava…which means it forms wherever there is/has been volcanoes. this does include Hungary and Italy.

Knowing the background behind the names can also throw a wrench in trying to fit ikepri lore into European boundaries.

while it is easy to see the European influence behind the lore and kingdoms, it is also evident that these fictional kingdoms are only loosely based on specific aspects of life within Europe in order to justify the style of royalty within the game.

thanks for coming to my tedtalk

#otome #otome game #otome games #ikemen #cybird #ikepri #ikemen prince #benitoite #jade #obsidian #rhodolite #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #historical context #i love these games but my history nerd side is showing

[sacredhyacinth]

im not sure if u accept critique, but! heres a drop of mine. u have a diverse cast when it comes to sexuality, but wlw or mlm are rarely often endgame. a lot of ur most famous pairings (roman x mina/raquel, loretta x gabriel, orion x alula) are masc x fem and hetero. sasha had a gf i believe but she ended up being erased from the plot. we have raquel x mina which i love, but theyre not an active or the end relationship. yeah! thats just my penny. i love ur work :D

I’ll work towards adding more w/w and m/m couples, I never meant to exclude anyone from being represented in bm—also Sasha still has a girlfriend, but since it is my friend’s oc and not my own I don’t know if she will have a redesign or not. Black Magic is meant to include everyone from different backgrounds and I should represent same sex couples as well !! will do better thank you for the critique

[myon-94]

Hmm, back at you! I knew you liked Ray with Dimitri and I now know you don't like Niko with Packie (awesome, hehe), but are they actually the best and least?

Omg an ask what am I to do? Answer it of course this my one chance to talk abt gta ships without wanting to kms

Well if we're talking about non rarepairs and ships that actually have SOME ground in game then I must say Brucie and Roman might just be the best, their dynamic just works so well! In the sweet bellic (I think that's what it's called but it's the one where niko goes to kill that French Tom guy) the preferences written by Roman in niko's bio just seem to reflect Brucie a little too much and also Brucie did mention that "if he were queer" Roman would be in danger eheheh.

As for the least favorite, and I'm sorry everyone and especially to my 2019 baby gta stan self..it's gotta be dimitri and mikhail.

I know I know doomed old man yaoi is too good to pass but. I liked it a little when I first started getting into gta but as time passed I just found myself disliking it more and more.. Aside from the fact that mikhail is a married man with a grown daughter and cheating is a big no in my book, I just find their dynamic more and more toxic. Though that's normally not a big problem for me (I love misery) I think this time not only were they aggressive towards each other but I can't see a hint of romance in their interactions.

I see mikhail and dimitri as two people who were once friends- brothers even, who went through highs and lows together, who witnessed the death of their nation and tried to live in what was once their glorious union while still looking out for one another, and who immigrated to a far, foreign hostile country (most likely) without a penny to their name, and who were slowly and inevitably drifting apart..because nothing lasts forever.

It could've been the money and power, it could've been the painkillers and the coke, it could've been the fact that they were thousands of miles away from home and are still, even after a decade, in a foreign land they can't quite get used to.

Neither of them wanted to let go of the other. They could only trust each other. They were the only hint left of their old lives that neither wanted to forget. But everything was just..too much I guess? This couldn't keep on, and I believe it was dimitri who let go first.

I believe that by the time niko meets mikhail and dimitri the latter has already made up his mind about mikhail. What started as just boredom and annoyance of mikhail and his antics slowly manifesting into hate as his behavior started putting everyone in danger. I even think dimtri lied about the whole petrovic situation just to get an excuse to get rid of mikhail. And mikhail, well he didn't appreciate his friends distance in the slightest. But instead of thinking "maybe this is my fault" he just started to blame everyone and everything but himself, refusing to belive that he and only he was the reason his friend no longer liked him as much..and to cope he just undermines and makes fun of and blames dimitri any chance he can get; calling him paranoid, he blames him for the Lenny situation (though as I said I believe the whole fiasco was a lie) and in a deleted phone call he even accuses dimitri of sleeping with ilyena- the wife he cheats on every day. And to whom he complains? To the Serbian mercenary that knows nothing about any of them of course!

I especially find the moment where he says to niko "Dimitri would've been some prison meat if not for me" incredibly low because..you don't just say such a thing. It's cruel and it's disgusting and serves no purpose other than make dimitri look small in the eyes of others. I find his end quite fitting, rare niko W.

I do think they fucked once or twice tho :3 but they most certainly aren't in love.

BUT if we ARE talking about rarepairs then ohh boy...nothing beats dimitri and boccino. They're like. the ship ever. Still my proudest moment when I thought of these two together one Monday night 😮‍💨✨️ I rambled WAY too much abt mikhail and dimitri I know no one will read this if I talk abt ray and dimitri.

And least favorite rarepair..well there aren't many cuz yk they're rare. But I think Niko and Derrick for no other reason than because they always kill off my babygirls francis and boccino and talk shit about them for the rest of the fic. #Fuck Derrick I hate this lying drug addict rat.

#holy shit #im sure character/ OC dont count and i still hadn't figured a consistent story yet so here you go #sorry if this is too long and pretentious vik #just couldn't stop myself #gta iv #dimitri rascalov #mikhail faustin #ray boccino #dimitri/boccino #s

[yr-obedt-cicero]

New York State Society of the Cincinnati, on the death of Alexander Hamilton

At a special meeting of the the State Society of the Cincinnati, held at Ross's Hotel in Broad-street, in the City of New-York, on Tuesday, the 17th day of July, 1804: This Society, deeply afflicted by the death of their President-General, ALEXANDER HAMILTON, and earnestly desirous of testifying the high respect they feel for his memory (bowing with submission to the mysterious Will of Heaven) and feeling the deepest affliction at an event which has deprived them of their most illustrious Member—their Country of its most enlightened and useful Statesman—and the world of one of those extraordinary Men, which ages have rarely produced; unanimously agree to the following Resolutions: I. Resolved, That a letter be drafted and addressed to the Vice-President-General of the Society, and Circular Letters to the several State Societies, announcing this sad event, the deep and universal sorrow it has occasioned in this Society, and amongst their fellow-citizens of every description; and that the Rev. Mr. Linn, General Clarkson, Mr. Dunscomb, Mr. Hardie, and Col. Platt, be a Committee to draft such letters. II. Resolved, That the said Committee draft a letter of condolence to Mrs. Hamilton, which letter and letters, when prepared, are to be signed by the President and countersigned by the Secretary of the Society. III. Resolved, That Gen. Clarkson, Mess'rs Watson and Burrel, be a Committee to wait on the Rev. Mr. Mason, and request him to prepare and deliver an Oration on the 31st instant, in honour of the Talents, the Virtues, and eminent Services of that Great Man whose loss we deplore; and that the said Committee make such arrangements as may be proper on the occasion. IV. Resolved, That a Monument be erected in Trinity Church, by this Society, to the memory of Alexander Hamilton, its late President-General, with a suitable Inscription; and that Mr. Gouverneur Morris, the Rev. Dr. Linn, and Mr. Morton, be a Committee to carry this resolution into effect. V. Resolved, That the thanks of this Society be presented to Mr. Gouverneur Morris, for his prompt compliance with their wishes, in delivering an Eulogium at the Funeral Ceremonies of their deceased President-General, Alexander Hamilton. VI. Resolved, That the several Resolutions passed at this meeting, be transmitted to the Vice-President-General of the Society, and to the respective State Societies, and be also published. W. S. SMITH, President.

W. POPHAM, Secretary.

Source — Library of Congress, Digital Collections, manuscript/mixed material. Image 8 of Alexander Hamilton Papers: Family Papers, 1737-1917; 1804-1805

The New York State Society of Cincinnati - also known as The Society of the Cincinnati - is a fraternal hereditary society founded on June 9, 1783, to commemorate the American Revolutionary War that saw the creation of the United States. In order to perpetuate their fellowship, the founders made membership hereditary. [x] The Society has had three goals; “To preserve the rights so dearly won; to promote the continuing union of the states; and to assist members in need, their widows, and their orphans.” To achieve these aims, the Society called on its members to contribute a month's pay. George Washington was the first president general of the Society. The army's chief of artillery, Henry Knox, was the chief author of the Institution.

The organization was named after, Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, a farmer who left his farm to serve as a Roman Consul and Magister Populi (With temporary powers similar to that of a modern-era dictator). In response to a military emergency, he took over the city of Rome as a legitimate dictator. After the conflict, he gave the Senate back the initiative and resumed cultivating his fields. This philosophy of unselfish service is reflected in the Society's motto; He gave up everything to keep the Republic alive, or Omnia reliquit servare rempublicam.

The Society of the Cincinnati was founded by officers at the Continental Army encampment at Newburgh, like Major General Henry Knox. The first meeting of the Society was held in the May of 1783 at a dinner at the Verplanck House Fishkill, New York, (Which was Baron Von Steuben's headquarters during the Revolution) before the British evacuation from New York City. The meeting was presided over by Major General Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben, with Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton serving as the orator. The participants agreed to stay in contact with each other after the war. Mount Gulian is considered the birthplace of the Society of the Cincinnati, where the Institution was formally adopted on May 13, 1783. To this day the members of the organization meet annually at the Verplanck homestead. It is modernly known as The Mount Gulian historic site and looks very much as it did in 1783. There you will find the Cincinnati Gallery, dedicated to the New York State Society, with displays, artifacts, and documents illustrating the founding and activities of the Society during its continuous existence since 1783. Read more here.

While the NYSSOTC did erect the famous white monument on top of the grave of Hamilton, [x] in 1957 they erected another monument in Financial District in Manhattan in New York County engraved with; “To the Memory of Alexander Hamilton 1757 - 1804. Lieutenant Colonel, Aide de Camp to Gen. Washington And Those Other Officers of the Continental Army & Navy Original Members of the Society Whose Remains are Interred in the Churchyards of Trinity Parish” [x]

#amrev #american history #alexander hamilton #historical alexander hamilton #new york state society of the cincinnati #baron von steuben #henry knox #george washington #history #cicero's history lessons #friedrich wilhelm von steuben

[howtofightwrite]

A follow up question to my "how to fight beasts" question. I am aware that hunting is quite different to fighting. I should have been more specific but I meant to ask about fighting beast in a hand-to-hand combat type scenario. An example being gladiators of the Roman Colosseum being forced to fight beasts like lions, tigers, and bears in an arena with conventional weapons like swords and spears. What is the gameplan?

In the real world, the game plan was, “don't do that.”

Something we've mentioned in the past was the way the Roman gladiatorial combat focused on fixed loadouts. However, there were specific non-gladiator, “support,” positions. One of these was the Venator.

Venatores were hunters, (this was also the name of a support role in the legion tasked with hunting animals for meat.) Their role in the arena was to stage hunts against wild animals. They would be armed with a selection of bows, spears, and javelins. They would then be sent out to slaughter the animals released into the arena.

It's important to understand, this was a completely different kind of presentation from the gladiatorial combat. Venatores were used as an exercise of imperial authority. They weren't put into the arena to, “fight,” animals, they were put into the arena to hunt and kill them.

In fact, the Venatores were so, “safe,” that multiple Emperors participated in their shows. This is how much of a non-threat the animals were; Emperors who wanted to be seen as skilled hunters, could use this as a safe way to publicly present themselves.

In some ways, the most analogous comparison would be to view the venatores as a circus act (without regard for animal cruelty.) (Venatores literally were circus performers, but the modern meaning is slightly different.)

On the other end of the spectrum was damnatio ad bestias. This was the only other group that, “fought,” animals in the arena, and, as the name suggests, it was a method of execution. You weren't expected to win a fist fight with a lion, and frankly, your odds when squaring up against any big cat while unarmed aren't particularly good. To make matters worse, the condemned were restrained or otherwise prevented from fighting back effectively. This was an execution, not a fight.

You skipped over it on your animal list, but wolves enjoyed a special deference in the arena. The arenas would take steps to avoid harming wolves whenever possible, due to their symbolic importance to Roman culture. At the same time, the arenas drove multiple species, including some varieties of lions and tigers to the brink of extinction. I don't think I've ever seen boars mentioned in the arena, though that could just be an oversight. Similarly, another notable omission from your list was the auroch, they're extinct today, but they were hunted in venatores performances. (The last living auroch was poached sometime in the 17thcentury, so in this case, the extinction was unrelated.)

Now, there's a legitimate question of whether this matters. This how the real arenas worked, but how is this relevant for you?

The answer there is to look at the intent of the arena, and skim over the economics.

The arena was an extension of the state. As much as the purpose was to provide entertainment to the lower class citizens, it was also a demonstration of imperial power. Within that context, having these highly trained fighters getting picked off by wild animals would have been, “ideologically catastrophic.” There already was a theme with gladiators, where the various types were representative of foes that Rome had conquered, but, the gladiators were still Roman fighters, and seeing them getting torn to pieces by hyenas would not have been a good look for The Empire.

It would been an expensive proposition. Training and maintaining a gladiator was not cheap. These were very expensive entertainers. This is part of why the gladiatorial combat to the death was extremely rare. A modern analogy would be to view gladiators a bit like professional wrestlers, including the part where successful gladiators were minor celebrities in their day. In the vast majority of situations, killing off a gladiator didn't make financial sense, and as a result, they were rarely, intentionally, killed in the arena.

Now, capturing, transporting, and storing wild animals was expensive, however for the arenas that was an expendable cost. One lion was about as much of a crowd pleaser as any other. This meant that there was no incentive to protect the animals (excluding in the specific case of wolves, mentioned earlier.)

So, there was no incentive to screw around. You wouldn't pair gladiators against animals, because if the gladiator was injured or killed, that was a significant financial loss, and would reflect poorly on The Empire. (You also couldn't match gladiators against animals on the technicality that, “gladiators,” specifically fought other gladiators. Again, that was the domain of the venatores.)

The Venatores didn't, 'fight,' animals, they slaughtered them.

When someone was put to death by animals in the arena, they weren't allowed to fight back. Again, think how weak it would make The Empire appear, if the condemned fought back successfully at their execution.

So, in the larger context of, “how would you fight an animal,” you wouldn't. Hunting, even by the venatores, is a radically different activity from fighting. You're not going to fight an animal, you're looking to kill them. So, while there is some similarity to efficient approaches to combat, none of that applies in the arena.

While the idea of dropping a pack of wild animals into the middle of an arena bout fits in some kind of romantic idea, it doesn't make a lot of sense on any level. Even on the subject of sheer spectacle, it's going to clutter the arena with visual noise that makes the main event, the fight between the gladiators, harder to follow.

Also, that last bit about damnatio ad bestiasis something to keep in mind about the use of gladiatorial combat to pick off characters. It creates a situation where your protagonists can (potentially, and if we're being honest with ourselves, probably will) seriously undermine the power of the state running the arena. If the goal was to kill them off, then letting them successfully fight back seriously undermines the illusion of power that the state possessed. (Even letting them resist at all is mildly damaging to that image.) It's a dramatic scenario, but it's actively detrimental to creating a powerful, oppressive nation. Even throwing someone into the arena against their will is pretty questionable if you step back and think about it, because you're basically saying, “I condemn you to a life as a sports star. Now fight this angry cat.”

-Starke

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#Starke answers #How to Fight Write #Writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #gladiators #history