#I dont know how many people are gonna. get these references
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spiderdotexe · 26 days ago
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My forsaken skin concepts OK!
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applescabs · 7 months ago
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happy birthday to me i celebrated by looking at my favourite sequence of images in the world and crying over it at half past midnight.
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isolatednights · 3 days ago
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"see that - that's the problem though!" she points out - voice cracking slightly. "i signed up for it because i - i deserve someone who picks me. someone who loves me as much as i love them." some part of her knows she isn't being fair to him, but aiyla left people she loved behind to get on this ship. she'd hoped to find someone who was hers - and to have learned that not only had he not signed up for the program, but that he'd been married? it broke part of her. "feels like i'm second choice." snorting at his proposal, her head lulled against his shoulder - hoping to scowl up at him only for the world to spin slightly. "dizzy," the word is hissed beneath her breath as eyes squeeze shut. "why would i want you to go around screaming lies?" god he was confusing her. "how would you know what my type is?"
she falls silent as they walk - drunken energy lulled by the steady footfalls, and warmth of his body. "am angry with you," no. not angry, but disappointed? probably. "stupidly handsome face," she grumbled. "don't think i wanna insult you. can we skip that part? i dont wanna be mean to you."
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"whatever you want to tell yourself," he remarks with a shrug, silently relieved that she's agreed to follow him. while the path he takes them on does lead them up in the direction of the floors she refers to, they stop several short at a little area that's set up like a cafe. "this floor has the best hot chocolate and has a garden with a huge window. androids don't do bad, but the garden could definitely use a humans touch at some point." stepping around the counter the mix them both a drink, he eventually slides a mug across the counter to her. "caviar never was my speed. neither were oysters. slimy, nasty things. a good dessert though? now that, i would've spent money on. c'mon." snatching up his own mug, the man hardly allows an opportunity for the woman to reject coming along with him before he's moving in the direction of the gardens.
"this was originally meant to be the control deck, which is why there are so many windows. ended up expanding the size of the ship though, so it was repurposed."
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it ached to watch her break in such a way, as asher was quick to imagine his sister saying the exact same words when she woke and he was nowhere to be found. would it have been easier, he wonders, if she'd only discovered this information after they'd safely landed at their intended destination, or would she have had the same reaction regardless? "you aren't at fault for any of this," he tries to sooth, brow furrowing as he stays crouched before the woman. "we do... unspeakable things for the people we love. i doubt he wanted to leave you anymore than you wanted to be separated from him."
home was not something he could offer her, not in the literal sense at least. "'m gonna touch you now, alright?" even with the question asked, he hesitates for a moment, waiting for some sort of resistance to the phrase before long arms are reaching forward to scoop her up and hold her against his frame. "'s alright. 'm right here." even after he has a firm grip on her, he doesn't move much - only shifting enough so that he can sit properly on the floor, leaning against one of the shelving units with her cradled on his lap. "never really had a place i would've considered home before," he admits. "was hoping once we got where we were going i could make one. wasn't picky about the destination either really. so this'll work too, you know? 'm not good at making things feel that way though. like home. you look like you'd be good at it though. making it cozy and comfortable or whatever. think you could help me?"
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"aiyla, originally... i was spoken for, and i didn't opt for being involved on this programme, it was a shock and i'm sorry i didn't react how you wanted, you did deserve that special moment... i just had no idea." he'd say it again when she was sober, just to know she'd really heard him apologize properly. "aiyla, darlin' you aint my second choice." he laughed, head shaking. "you want me to go scream it out into the big wide void we're floatin' through? maybe say it daily for a year so you can acknowledge me?" he raised his brows. "tell me what it is i've gotta do to prove it to you, give me it straight." he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "yeah yeah, asher seems like just your type."
"you're right s'not fair, but that's what we're gonna do anyway yeah?" he was moving and she was coming with him, without a doubt, that was the plan, get her nicely resting, sleep this off, pay for it tomorrow. "n' you can sleep, and still be angry at me darlin', that's fine. we'll work on that part." he let out his own breath of relief when she leaned back into his chest, lifting her was easy too, carrying her was a breeze and far easier than trying to clamber through the hallways, so that's what he did, kept a scoop on her legs and let her ease into his chest. "lets get you settled hm? you can keep on telling me how angry you are, i'm waiting for the, you have a stupid face, crooked nose, you're mean, nasty, all of the insults, when do we get to that part?"
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"...what?" she looked him up and down, but when she looked at the state of this place she relented. "i'm only coming with you because i don't want to feel like i have to help that android tidy this mess up. got it pretty boy?" her arms were crossed, even as she started to follow him. she imagined it was going to be something stupid or pointless, means of getting her on her own to talk since for the most part... unless it was to do with needing the tablet, eris had avoided him magnificently. "what is it that's so important that you came to find me, exactly? if it's that your fancy floor of riches has caviar, you can keep that for your exotic taste buds silas."
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she shook her head, she couldn't, not right away. "he just left me-" he cried into her knees, her head still held. for a few minutes eden sat there and simply.. cried, until she could release her fingers from her hair, trembling as they still were and instead looked to asher. her pretty eyes streamed tears, her cheeks stained by them and the tip of her nose red from sniffling. "how could he just leave me? i'm responsible for all of it, for all of it." her trembling fingers didn't know where to go, to reach for him simply because he was there or wrap around her legs and hold herself. "he looks just like i remember him, so why isn't he here?" normally she'd understand, she'd be upset but she would understand... the alcohol in her system was just cruel.
"i want to go home now- i'd like to go home now." she was panicking, because what did people seek in their panic, but a place they felt safe? she felt safe at home, her home on earth, the plants she'd grow in her apartment, her height marked on the doorframes as she'd grown up, along with her brothers on the opposite, their photographs on the walls. nowhere here felt safe and that is what she was saying, trying to communicate... that she just felt really unsafe, uncomfortable, lost... and she didn't know how to find that safety again because that home was the only place she'd ever felt it before.
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lollybliz · 1 month ago
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Every day someone I follow reblogs a post from a blog who unironically uses the word 'theyfab' or believes trans men seeking support are the same as cis mra's or is genuinely still ace exclusionist, and I spend the next 30 minutes trying to decide if they're an exclusionist and I should block them or they just reblogged from some rando on their recommended tab.
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bucketbueckers · 3 months ago
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COME AROUND
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pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader content: language, kinda angsty (but with a happy ending because above all else, i am my own target audience), friends to lovers to exes to lovers, too many gatsby references, teenage awkardness, hopkins!p, sexuality, generational fumble from paige, mental health, slight injury, painfully long
wc: 27.0k synopsis: You were always a little tender-hearted. That’s why your friends told you to stay far, far away from Paige Bueckers. You tried, you honestly did – but Paige was magnetic, and she loved you, and you were just a little too weak to say no. Eventually, you’d have to come to terms with the realization that the both of you were growing up far too fast and that there were many lessons still left to be learned, although you never thought that moment of reckoning would come in the fashion that it did. Despite losing your way over the years, the beautiful thing about life is that you always find your way back home. notes: kinda funny that i thought this was gonna be like 5-6k words long...lol sike 😍 last night's game actually killed me but what do i actually know about basketball. i just work here. this fic came to me in a fever dream and was not planned out at all, is poorly proof-read, and at the end of the day i dont actually know if its good or not cause im sick of reading it. also. please let me know how we feel about the sexuality/process of coming out. i tried to make it as authentic as possible (i did NOT feel like writing homophobia, paige and reader got enough shit going on in this one shot) but lowkey...idk how it works. crazy lore drop but when i realized i liked girls i said "ok" and went on with my day and then eventually got outed to my family so like..oh well. i think that's it though but as always let me know what y'all think and pls pls enjoy 🫶
tags: @unadulteratedcyclepaper @avvwritesstufff @surferandskater5
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You were always a little tender hearted — or so you’ve been told. Your heart lives perpetually on your sleeve, bared, bleeding, beating persistently regardless of the way it breaks under the slightest pressure. You’re a patchwork of criss-crossing bandages, an amalgamation of stitches and sutures; nevertheless, you still find the bravery to love and open up your heart in spite of it all. You wouldn’t say that you let people walk all over you. You’re outspoken and proud of it, opinionated and driven. In the same breath, you’re sensitive and trusting – perhaps to a fault, but that’s just who you are.
You don’t think this is a character flaw. Yes, you get hurt, but that’s inevitable. You like to think that if people like you stopped putting love and compassion into the world, then it would all go to shit eventually. You like to think that there is someone out there who will see your effort for what it is and care enough to protect your heart as if it were their own. Platonically, romantically, you didn’t particularly mind – you wanted to forge genuine connections with people. You wanted to love in whatever form that came to be. So, yes. You get hurt. Yes, it would be easier for you to not care so much at all, but if people gave up so quickly, then how would we grow? How can we expect to glean something from the world if it was a depleted resource?
Hopkins, Minnesota, was a quaint little city, but it was where you grew up. Elementary and middle school was… well, elementary and middle school. You learned a lot about yourself, about others, and made a few close friends that have stuck by you for years. Then high school came around and things shifted. Your classmates were confusing mixtures of self-absorbed and altruistic, trying too hard to be one thing or the other, and it was this strange imbalance between finding who you’re supposed to be versus staying true to what you’ve known. It’s that weird thing called growing up, and sure, everyone does it – in a literal sense as they grow older physically, but also as they change their minds and learn new things about the world and themselves, although growing up in high school is just so daunting. It’s like you’re supposed to have all of the right answers, right now, which is scary because you don’t even have the right answers for algebra yet you’re supposed to make life-altering decisions about the person you are?
You digress, though. Freshman year is decent. You get into a steady rhythm, join a couple of clubs that will look good on college applications, and you make a few new friends, ones that feel a little more like you despite the ones you’ve been holding onto since kindergarten. Sophomore year is full of changes, yet again.
But junior year? They weren’t lying when they said it would be the hardest year of high school. You were taking a few AP classes and a dual enrollment class or two to round it out, but despite that, junior year comes with a lot more internal realizations. You weren’t a sports person by any means, but Paige Bueckers soon became a name you were intimately familiar with. She’d led her team pretty far into the playoffs during sophomore year although they ultimately fell short. There was something about her that was magnetic and you wanted to know more, see more. She was a freshman phenom, a generational player.
And when you mention this to your friends, trying to screw up the courage to attend one of the Hopkins girls’ games, you’re adamant that this new shift has nothing to do with the six foot, blonde guard with whom you share a fourth period AP Lit class with. Sure, Paige is ridiculously pretty (even though you’re 100% straight), charming, and she has a way of drawing everyone in. You’d just like to be her friend and that’s all there is to it. You don’t stare at her as your literature teacher rambles on about whatever classic book you’re reading – you don’t remember if it’s To Kill a Mockingbird or The Great Gatsby, but as long as Paige is sitting one row in front and two chairs to the right of you, there probably isn’t a chance that you’ll find it in you to care.
Then, around late October, it’s time for group projects and you’re just hoping you’re not paired with someone who doesn’t want to do the work. When your teacher rattles off your name, pausing once to glance at the rest of the roster, and calling out Paige as your partner, you aren’t entirely sure if this is something you want to celebrate or dread. You look up from your open book, The Great Gatsby, although you’ve read this dozens of times already, and you find that Paige is already turning back to look at you. Her face is a mix of easygoing confidence and gentle kindness all wrapped up in a radiant smile that makes your heart drop out of your ass.
Your classmates shuffle around and she slides into the desk seat next to yours, her knees bumping awkwardly on the sides, but she hardly pays it any mind as she introduces herself to you, as if she isn’t the most famous seventeen-year-old you’ve ever sat next to. You figure that her introduction is more out of humility than anything else. It’s probably daunting to be her, intimidating to bear the weight of countless expectations on shoulders that are barely broad enough to fill out her jersey. You give her your name and she repeats it back to you slowly, testing the pronunciation on her tongue, and grinning when you nod, ignoring the blush that creeps up on your neck.
“A’ight,” Paige says, rubbing her hands together in a way that looks corny as hell, but you can’t help but be amused by it, “What do you think?”
The prompt on the board is simple – by AP Lit standards, at least. Explain the symbolism of the green light. Common interpretations think of the light as a representation of Gatsby’s love for Daisy, the American Dream, or money. Do you believe any of these interpretations (or an interpretation of your own) reflect the themes of the story and Gatsby, or do you believe the narrator, Nick Carraway, has unreliably pushed his own thoughts and interpretations onto Gatsby? How does the green light tie into the broader themes of Gatsby and Daisy’s relationship? Your project must be in the form of a PowerPoint presentation…
You stop reading as the rest of the prompt goes into the rubric. “You first,” you tell Paige, smiling when she huffs dramatically.
“I think it’s supposed to represent Gatsby’s feelings for Daisy,” Paige states. “I mean, it’s constant, like Gatsby’s been in love with Daisy for years. Even before he went off to war. And he’s always starin’ at it at night. I do think Nick is putting his own thoughts into it. Like, by sayin’ Gatsby believes in the ‘orgastic future that year by year recedes before us.’ I’on even know what that means.” You can’t help but laugh at this, drawing a grin from Paige. “But you know what I mean, right? He fell in love with this girl before he went off to war, years pass and he’s alive but she’s married to another dude and he’s rich and lonely and I guess he’s close to her, but they ain’t really that close – I feel like that light just, you know, reminds him that she’s there.” Paige’s voice gets quieter the more she rambles, and when she catches the soft attentiveness in your features, she scratches the back of her neck, shy.
You smile at her. “You know, I wouldn’t have expected that kind of analysis from you,” you admit.
“Bro, what?” she exclaims, choking on a laugh as you dissolve into giggles. “I see how it is. It’s ‘cause I’m supposed to be a dumb jock, right?”
You roll your eyes, your cheeks hurting from the strength of your smile. “No. I mean, like what you said about the light reminding him that she’s there. I always thought I was the only one who interpreted it that way, too.” Paige’s gaze softens as she takes in your explanation. “I feel like Gatsby is trapped in two different times – the past, where he loved her, and the present, where he still loves her but can’t have her. The light simultaneously reminds him of what he’s lost but also what he could have, you know?” Paige nods, encouraging you to go on. “There’s a distance between them, literally, but I think Gatsby feels like Daisy is still within reach. That his dreams are still within reach. I don’t think he realizes he’s chasing a dream from five years ago, or that Daisy eventually moves on as Nick watches Daisy fall in and out of love with Gatsby.”
“That is…really depressing,” Paige says, which makes you laugh again, but the way she’s gazing at you makes you feel as though she’s seeing you in a different light.
You shrug a shoulder, trying to not think too hard about the way her blue eyes sparkle. “I cried over this book a couple of times. I’m kind of a professional now.”
“Now that’s somethin’ I’d expect from you,” Paige teases.
“Okay, jerk!” you gasp indignantly. “You don’t even know me. What makes you so sure of that?”
Paige hums, pretending to think about something, but her expression is undeniably smug. “Call it intuition. How about you let me get to know you and I’ll let you know if it’s true?”
Oh. You were definitely not expecting that one. Your heart thrums a little at the implication, but it softens ever so slightly because you can clearly make out the earnestness reflected in her eyes, the realization that despite the grandeur and the fame and the talent beyond her years, Paige is still human.
“Well,” you say in a manner that you hope is supposed to be coy, “we’re stuck together now for this project. Getting to know me is a little inevitable.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Paige asks, her lips tugging into a teasing smirk, one that makes you feel exasperated – in a good way. “And what happens after the project? You still gonna let me hang around and annoy you?”
You can’t help but laugh a little, hating the way your pulse races, although you ignore it. “We’ll see if I still like you by then,” you say, which makes her smirk turn into a smile that’s a little more tender, less cocky.
“I can work with that,” she promises. And with that, the both of you start outlining your project. Paige throws in a comment here and there that makes you laugh, keeping the mood light as you work. At the end of the period, you punch your number into her phone, dutifully ignoring the grin on her face and the blush on yours. She texts you immediately after just to be sure, but she texts you during your next class to complain about how boring her history teacher is, too. Conversation comes easy with Paige. It’s like she just knows – knows you – and you’re not sure if that should scare you or excite you. Despite not knowing why your budding friendship with Paige feels so different, you just know that it feels right, and that was good enough for you.
Your last class of the day is a study hall and you’re sitting at a table in the back with two of your friends, Mack and Serena. You can all but feel the mood shift when you recount your day. The mere mention of Paige is enough for your friends to jump on the defensive.
“You need to stay away from her,” Mack says, her tone serious. You frown, glancing at Serena for some help, but she only shifts uncomfortably, finding her online work a lot more appealing than this conversation. “Paige is someone who’s gonna break your heart, okay?”
“It’s not even like that–”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Mack states firmly. “It wasn’t like that when Izy left, was it?”
Despite yourself, your expression sours, and Mack reclines as though she’s made her point. You suppose she has. Izy was your best friend. The two of you were attached at the hip since kindergarten, but in freshman year, she found a new group of friends. She had a lot more in common with them than she did with you – or so it seemed – and she didn’t necessarily cut you off, but it probably would have been easier if she did. The two of you talked sparingly, plans always seemed to fall through, and the loss of that friendship hurt just as much as a break up would.
“Or ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named,’” Serena adds unhelpfully, because all it does is twist your heart again. He who shall not be named, or more colloquially known as Logan, was your first boyfriend. Granted, you only dated him for about three months in the eighth grade, but the break up turned your world upside down. He was your first something. That wasn’t anything to scoff at and he wasn’t kind in the aftermath, so it’s not really your fault for feeling impossibly upset about it. Maybe there was just something about you that made it difficult for people to want to stick around, but maybe there was something about you that managed to pick wrong every time.
“Those are different,” you argue. You can’t help the way your voice wavers, and you feel angry at yourself all over again for getting upset about this. “I was friends with Izy for ten years and Logan was my first boyfriend. They meant something to me.”
“Sure,” Mack concedes. “But you felt a lot for them. Watching you work through that heartbreak…” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve been hurt by a lot of ignorant people, and, yeah, you always get back up at the end of the day, but I know it weighs on you.” Mack pauses, finding her thoughts as you stare imploringly at her. “People talk, you know. Paige talks to a lot of people. She’s not the type of person to stay in one place. You know as soon as she gets an offer, she’s leaving Minnesota and she’s not gonna look back. She’s destined for something a little greater than Hopkins.”
You swallow thickly, Mack’s words hitting you harder than she probably intended. Part of you knows that she’s right. Paige is only a junior but she’s a top prospect coming out of high school. She’s going to go to a great college for basketball. UConn, South Carolina, Notre Dame – one of the dynasties. You’re sure she’d get an offer to stay home and attend the University of Minnesota, but you also know that she’s worth a lot more than Minnesota. The other part of you, the part more connected to that bleeding heart of yours, doesn’t want to listen to Mack. It holds out hope that you wouldn’t be just another part of Paige’s past – maybe you could be part of her future.
Mack glances up at you again, studying your expression, and she softens. “Hey,” she says, gathering your attention. “I’m not gonna make a choice for you. If you wanna be her friend…go for it. I just want you to be careful who you show your heart to. Some people take it for granted.”
You nod carefully, appreciative of the way she looks out for you, and the two of you return to your work. Only moments later, your phone buzzes on the table. A notification from Paige lights up on your screen, then two, and you smile despite yourself and open your messages. You text her back, already pushing your conversation with Mack and Serena to the back of your mind, and you hardly notice their concerned glances as you respond.
Your project isn’t due until mid-December, the Friday before winter break, but you and Paige spend nearly every other day together when she doesn’t have practice. It’s a steady rhythm for the two of you: sitting through your literature class together, exchanging teasing glances and text messages when your teacher isn’t looking, complaining about the other classes you don’t share with each other, and finding yourselves at one or the other’s house to work on your project or simply enjoy each other’s company. You’ll admit that the two of you don’t get much work done most days, instead filling the time with pointless conversations about nothing but mean everything. Hours with Paige feels like mere minutes and you don’t part until a parent texts about dinner and you have to go your separate ways.
She invites you out to one of her games. It’s on a Friday night, and at first, you want to decline, hearing Mack’s words swirl through your brain once more. People talk, you know. Paige talks to a lot of people. She’s not the type of person to stay in one place. You don’t want to have to share Paige’s attention, which is a realization that shocks you to your core. It’s dangerously possessive and honestly, it flusters you a little. You’d never been so territorial over a friend’s time like you have been with Paige. Perhaps territorial isn’t even the right word. You have no claim over Paige, nor does she have any claim over you. You don’t like girls and you don’t like her in that way, even if that disjointed flutter in your chest makes you wonder otherwise. You don’t.
Paige seems to read your expression perfectly. That’s a new thing, too. You have been friends for less than a month, although it feels like you’ve known her forever. You know her favorite color, the women she grew up idolizing, the larger-than-life dreams that you know she’s going to make come true because Paige is nothing if not a girl who works hard and believes in herself. You know the messier parts of Paige, her parent’s divorce, her unyielding faith, and the uncharacteristically insecure “I like girls. Does that change anything with us?” that she’d whispered over the phone one night (your heart had raced and you felt warmth creep up your cheeks; you didn’t know what that meant, but you wholeheartedly meant it when you promised her that it wouldn’t change anything).
“You won’t even know I’m there,” you say to Paige, referring back to the game, and her brows furrow in a stupefied confusion. “Are you, like, aware of how many people go to your games?”
Paige rolls her eyes, but the action lacks any real heat as a smile spreads across her face, slow and insufferable in that way only Paige is capable of. “If you’re in the stands, I’m not gonna care about anyone else,” she promises, which makes your heart skip a beat. “I want you there.”
You didn’t really need much convincing after that, so on Friday night, you find yourself in the student section. You’re not even sure who the Royals are playing – probably a district rival – but the one thing you’re sure of is that Paige oozes with confidence, an easy grin on her face as she warms up on the court. She’s chatting with one of her teammates, although her eyes scan the gym imperceptibly. Then, her eyes are sliding across your figure, taking in your – her – Hopkins basketball hoodie that she forced you to wear, showcasing her last name and her number on the back of it, and her grin softens as she waves at you.
That night, Paige plays like she has a point to prove. She’s unguardable from the three-point line, demanding in the paint like she’s prime Lebron James, and she slices through the other teams defense seamlessly as she makes near impossible passes to her wide open teammates. Paige is full of energy, a searing combination of adrenaline and pure love for the game, but the trait that truly captures your attention is the unfiltered cockiness. Off the court, Paige is humble, although you’re still trying to figure out if that’s truly who she is or if it’s her protecting herself from all of the eyes that are on her constantly. But on the court? Paige plays like she’s the best player in the state (which she is) and she plays like she knows she’s the best player in the state (she knows she is). The only word that comes to mind is menace. Paige isn’t a dick, but when she sinks a three, she throws up three fingers as she back pedals for defense. When she landed an impossible buzzer beater to send off the first half, she’d glanced down at her arm, tapping on her wrist as if she were wearing a watch. Then, late in the third quarter, when she stole the ball from an opposing player and took it across the court for the easiest layup of her life and stole the ball again when the other team was trying to inbound it (she scored on that one, too), her celebration was directed at you. She pointed at you in the crowd, a grin on her face and pride in her eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her, shaking your head as the warmth spread through your body.
Seeing Paige play in person is like seeing her in a different light, and honestly, you feel like you know her a little better now. You feel more drawn to her. She offers to walk you home after the game. At first, you want to decline. She just played out of her mind and lead her team to a blowout win against whoever the fuck and your mom is just a call away. Paige insists, reminding you that your houses really aren’t that far apart, and you suppose you can’t really argue against that one.
She keeps you entertained the entire walk back, cracking jokes and recounting some of her favorite plays from the game, and when her knuckles brush against yours as she rambles, you find that you really don’t mind that spark of electricity that runs up your spine at the contact. She tests the waters, pressing closer and closer until finally, she links her pinky with yours under the streetlight; you smile at her, something that’s simultaneously soft and welcoming and laced with the sudden realization about yourself that you’d been putting off the entire time you’d known Paige. You liked her. She glances over at you, mid sentence with a content smile on her face. When she registers the fact that you’ve been staring at her, she stutters, fumbling over her words, and you can’t help your laughter as she blushes bright pink.
It should probably scare you a lot more than it does. Liking a girl is scary and daunting but liking Paige, your best friend, feels like something new entirely. You remember Mack’s words again. People talk, you know. Paige talks to a lot of people. She’s not the type of person to stay in one place. As quickly as they’d popped into your brain, you push them to the back of your mind. Mack doesn’t know Paige like you. That much you’re sure of. And if you get hurt in the process of trying to live and experience things for the first time and giving your heart out to someone, then so be it; you were used to it by now, but the gentleness of Paige’s gaze under the moonlight feels like she’s promising that she wouldn’t hurt you.
The two of you pause at your doorstep. You can hear the gentle thrum of crickets, the drag of the wind across grass and leaves. Paige stands tall over you, her expression soft as she gazes down at you with what seems like a flicker of hope – for what, you’re not sure. The air between you feels charged, electric, like you’re opposite ends of a magnet and it’s only a matter of time before you fall into each other entirely.
“So,” she murmurs, cocking a wry smile at you. The usual sharp edges of her confidence has rounded out, enveloping you both in a sort of tenderness that makes your heart ache in the most confusing and best way possible.
“So,” you agree, drawing a quiet huff of laughter from Paige, who runs the flat of her palm across her jaw, contemplative. You give her the space to find her words – she’s done the same for you many times; she was usually the talker between the two of you, but you’ve come to find that she’s an amazing listener, too. A beat passes and she doesn’t say anything, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, and that’s when you decide to step in. “You played great tonight,” you admit.
Paige blinks, as if she’d forgotten all about the basketball game she spent your entire walk home rambling about. Her brows relax, her smile turning bashful, and you can clearly see the humble pride in her eyes, illuminated by porchlight. “You were there,” she says. “Had to show out.” You roll your eyes fondly, your heart thundering in your chest. “Does this mean you’ll come to more of my games?”
You pause, pretending to think about it, but you’re sure the smile on your face gives you away as you respond, “Maybe. I’ll think about it.” Paige sighs, playfully exasperated, and you give in easily. “I’ll be there. I had to make sure you were actually good at this basketball thing.”
“My biggest cheerleader,” she mumbles dryly. The sheer excitement and relief on her face betrays her words and her tone and you can’t help but laugh.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you say. Your voice is hardly a whisper, but it seems to echo in this little bubble of space that the two of you have created.
“I – yeah, I mean, of course,” Paige stammers. She clears her throat, exhaling a long, deep breath, and you’re certain the fondness shows on your face as you stare at her. Paige quirks a smile, slightly embarrassed. “Stop laughing at me!”
“I’m not!” you exclaim, laughing for real now, which just makes Paige dissolve into laughter of her own. Soon enough, your giggles die down, and you’re both staring at each other with soft, captured smiles. The awkwardness of the moment melts away into something lighter; briefly, you wonder if she’d been standing this close the entire time – you can feel the warmth of her body as she stands mere inches away from you. “Goodnight, Paige.”
“Goodnight,” she whispers, but she doesn’t move, and neither do you. You don’t shy away when her fingers tentatively brush across your waist, her body eclipsing yours, and the both of you are slowly inching towards each other, breaths mingling when your front door bursts open and your little brother pops his head out with a shout of your name. You and Paige scramble away from each other, feeling like you’ve been caught red-handed.
“Get inside!” you hiss at your little brother, not awaiting his response as you push him back inside, closing the door and leaning against it. Part of you feels like crawling into a hole and never coming out of it. Your gaze returns to Paige, who’s staring at you with a mix of amusement, embarrassment, and a whole lot of affection. You sigh, feeling both resigned and like you’d been cheated out of something, and you press your forehead into the door to curb the awkwardness. “Sorry,” you say, knowing full well why you’re apologizing but also understanding that acknowledging the need to apologize is the same as acknowledging the fact that you and Paige were about to do something that would drastically change the course of your friendship.
“S’okay,” Paige says earnestly. You lift your head to meet her gaze, hoping that she’s not just saying it to make you feel better about yourself, but you find nothing but honesty in her features. Her hand brushes against yours once more, a gentle smile on her face. “I’ll text you when I’m home, yeah?”
You nod, exhaling again, mustering up a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes due to the overwhelming embarrassment. “Yeah. Night, Paige.”
“Goodnight,” she says again, her expression soft, and this time, she does leave, her hands buried in her pockets. You swear she glances back at you but it’s too dark to tell for sure. Tentatively, you make your way inside, unwilling to meet your brother’s eyes. It’s not until you’re getting changed for bed that you realize you’re still wearing the hoodie she’d given to you.
You pull it off slowly, carefully, like it’s a prized possession. To you, it may as well be. After what transpired on your front porch only moments ago – or what almost transpired on your front porch, the fact that you’re in possession of her hoodie feels strangely intimate to you. It feels right, too, which is probably more concerning, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as your phone lights up with a message from Paige, then another one. Both texts are simple with the first one reading “Home” and the second one bidding you one last goodnight with a heart emoji. You respond in kind, and when your eyes find her hoodie again, you can’t help the fond, lingering smile that spreads across your face.
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You and Paige don’t talk about the almost-kiss on your front porch the morning after. You don’t talk about it the day after that, or on Monday morning when she meets you in the parking lot at school. In fact, the both of you pretend like it didn’t happen at all. It doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. You start to wonder if it even happened at all – if it wasn’t for your brain conjuring images of Paige so close to you, her hand splayed on your waist, you would be sure that you had imagined it.
So, while the two of you don’t talk about it, you do a lot of thinking about it, probably enough for the both of you. You have a lot of new things to consider, such as the fact you almost kissed your best friend (and the fact that you wanted to kiss your best friend), the fact that you have feelings for your best friend, and the fact that you have feelings for your best friend who is a girl. There’s nothing wrong with girls liking girls. That wasn’t your concern. The situation as a whole is just new and unexpected and you don’t have a lot of the answers you’ve been searching for – like do you even like like girls or do you just like like Paige? Do you only like girls or do you like boys, too? You and Logan were thirteen. You’re not much older now, but at that age, it’s difficult to determine if you actually liked anyone in a sense that wasn’t completely platonic or if you were just trying to pretend that you did so you could fit in with everyone else.
You’re fine with the sexuality crisis – for now. You have bigger things to worry about, like being attracted to your best friend. You were no expert by any means, but you were smart enough to know that having feelings for your best friend was generally a pretty terrible idea. For starters, you’re not even sure if Paige likes you back. You’re sure that she’d be cool enough to remain your friend after rejecting you, but you’re not sure if you’d be able to handle the embarrassment of going from friends to extremely awkward friends. On the other hand, there is a chance she wouldn’t want to associate with you, either. The one thing you’re certain of is that you could not handle losing Paige – as a friend or otherwise. In essence, you’re stuck in between a rock and a hard place.
The more that you think about your predicament, the more you realize. A week later, you’re overthinking yours and Paige’s most recent hangout. You’d gone over to her house to “work on the project,” but that had actually turned into Paige flopping onto her bed dramatically and complaining about being sore from practice. Somehow, that meant she wouldn’t be able to contribute, and somehow, that meant the two of you would just have to binge the entire High School Musical series. You spent hours curled into Paige’s side on her bed, her hand tracing patterns onto your shoulder as the movie played on, but you didn’t really pay any mind to Travis or Danielle or whoever the main characters were. Paige was intoxicating, casual in the way she held you, and you sat through the entire movie keenly aware of the way her body pressed into yours and the scent of her cologne on her neck – but you’re getting off track. A new fear about your situation has manifested and despite Paige being the one initially worried that her liking girls would make things uncomfortable for the two of you, you’re now the one wondering if your sexuality is a reason for discomfort.
You worry that you’re the one taking advantage of your friendship. Are you overstepping friendship boundaries just because you’re incredibly close with Paige, or is there a subconscious belief that just because Paige likes girls, too, that means you can invade her personal space like they don’t matter? You worry that you’re making her uncomfortable and she’s just too polite to say anything about it. However, you also understand the fact that just because Paige likes girls doesn’t mean she likes you. That’s simultaneously a source of relief and dread. Relief because honestly, nothing has to change between the two of you. Dread because as time goes on, your feelings for Paige only get stronger, and you’d really like it if she liked you, too.
You decide to put your impending mental breakdown on the back burner. You have actual problems to worry about now, such as the due date of your project that’s quickly closing in. Your literature teacher was usually pretty lenient, but the project was still worth a huge chunk of your grade and you’re sure Paige would kill you herself if receiving a bad score on the project meant she wouldn’t be academically eligible to play basketball. The two of you make a conscious effort to lock in during the last week of the project, a little crunched for time as you’d spent so much of your “project time” talking for hours and watching movies. Granted, Paige ends up shouldering a lot more of the work as time passes on although you do your best to help out in between daydreams about her hand on your waist again.
On Thursday, the night before the project is due and two days before winter break, things seem to reach their tipping point.
You and Paige are basically finished with the project – you were proofreading and scanning your PowerPoint for academic content and ensuring your sentences made any bit of sense. Paige was pressed into your side, “quality checking the designs” as she’d said, but you just thought she was full of shit. She’s unnaturally quiet as the two of you work, until she shifts, her legs stretching out next to yours. “Think the only thing this project’s taught me is that this book is depressing as shit,” she says to you once you click over to the slide titled Gatsby and Daisy: Doomed by Time.
You hum, glancing over at her. She’s swamped in an oversized hoodie but looks impossibly comfortable as she reclines on your bed. “Alright,” you say, “I’ll bite. Why?”
She flips onto her side, explaining, “Literally everything was working against them. Time, society, people. Gatsby and Daisy were the epitome of right person, wrong time and there was nothin’ they could do to, like, get around that, you know? He went off to war, she got married, and he missed his shot ‘cause time keeps movin’. Daisy chose stability over love – Tom’s rich and can provide for her. But Gatsby was rich too. I’on get it.”
“Well,” you murmur, “wealth is not usually a good replacement for actual love.”
“You don’t think Gatsby loved Daisy?”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t love her. I’m saying he doesn’t love the version of Daisy that actually exists,” you explain. Paige gazes at you, a furrow in her brow like she’s realizing something new — about you, about herself, you can’t be sure. “He’s so obsessed with this idealized version of her from way back when and he just doesn’t understand that’s not really who she is anymore. I feel like that’s kinda the point of the green light, too.” As you think about your next words, your voice drops to a near whisper, your throat tightening with a sudden, unrestrained emotion that you can’t quite keep at bay. You meet her eyes, your stare unwavering, hoping that she can read between the lines. “Physically, the light is far away, right? It’s out of reach. But also – it’s a light. It’s impossible to hold. It’s a lesson about the impossibility of desire, that some dreams cost too much.”
Paige is quiet for a few beats, her eyes searching yours. You have always been intentional with your words. That was one of the things she knew to be true about you. Now, she seems to fully recognize your words for what they are — a confession for what you’re otherwise too afraid to say out loud. You’ve given her an out. She could sit here and wax poetic about the same topics and themes you’ve been debating over the last two months, about whether or not Gatsby truly loved Daisy, if the feelings Daisy had for Gatsby were worth giving up her life of comfort and peace, if Gatsby were worth it. Her hand brushes your waist again, her fingertips light against the skin of your navel where your sweatshirt has ridden up, and the jolt of electricity that courses through your veins reminds you of just how risky this whole thing was. You’ve all but given Paige your heart on a silver platter, perhaps too foolish or naive in the way you always search for more, more, more. Maybe you’re asking her for too much. You know she’s leaving Hopkins the first chance she gets. All of that is pushed to the back of your mind when her gaze traces your figure. 
Finally, she speaks. “I don’t think it’s too far away,” she says, understanding exactly what you were trying to say. “Not for you.” Her words ease the tension in your shoulders, her thumb brushing against your skin reassuringly. Her voice is firm, full of conviction, like she’s never been more sure of anything else before. She pauses, your eyes locked together, and her features soften ever so slightly. “Not for us.”
You quirk a small, relieved smile, relishing in the way Paige’s face relaxes, too. “You don’t think it’s impossible?” You don’t say the quiet part out loud – the “You don’t think we’re impossible?”
But Paige knows you. You’ve given more to her  than you’ve ever given to anyone in the past, friend or otherwise, and she doesn’t hesitate. “No.” Her hand settles fully on your waist now, squeezing you gently. “And even if it was… you’re worth it.” She smiles softly, her expression vulnerable and trusting despite the fact that she’s opening herself up to get hurt, too. You’re beginning to realize that the chance of getting hurt is just a risk everyone takes.
You can’t help the entire way your face softens at her confession. You realize that subconsciously, she’d said the very words you’d been hoping to hear for some time now although you never had the vocabulary to tell yourself that – that you never had the vocabulary to tell her that. But you watch the way she studies you, the way she swallows her nerves, and you begin to understand that maybe she doesn’t have the vocabulary, either, but she’s trying her best regardless. This is something that the both of you are doing for the first time; granted, you had one previous relationship, but this new thing between you and Paige feels a whole lot different. She’s the first person you think you actually consciously had feelings for, the first girl, and despite your relief and excitement, that reminder is enough to make you clam up.
You clear your throat, shifting slightly, and you pull your laptop between the two of you. “Well, we should probably get this finished,” you say with the grace of an elephant tromping through weeds. You click over to the next slide. “Does this look fine to you?”
Paige goes oddly silent, her brows furrowing in confusion and disbelief. “Uh, what?” she says.
“I said does this–”
“No, I heard you,” Paige interrupts. When you don’t meet her eyes, she sighs, exasperated, and closes the lid on your laptop, pushing it to the foot of your bed despite your protests. Then, her hand is sliding around your waist again, resting on the small of your back and pulling you onto your side so you come face to face. Your mouth clamps shut; the heat of Paige’s gaze feels like it’s enough to pick you apart, to melt you entirely, and you know well enough by now that you’re not getting out of this conversation without explaining yourself to her. “Why’d you freak out?” Paige’s voice softens, tinged with an anxious embarrassment as she adds, “I thought we — did I say too much? Do you not…?”
Instantly, you feel guilt all over. You didn’t realize how bad the situation sounded before now, with you changing the topic uncomfortably after Paige basically told you she liked you. “No, I—” You falter, your words failing you, but Paige stares at you with a hopeful patience. “I’ve never… done this before,” you confess. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever liked.”
Realization dawns on Paige’s face. “Oh,” she says, a mixture of relief and understanding lacing her tone. 
“Yeah,” you agree, a vulnerable smile quirking on your lips. “It’s new. A little scary. I really like you but I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“S’okay,” Paige murmurs. Her hand finds yours. “I really like you, too. We can figure it out together.” Her breath catches, eyes widening just a bit. “I mean, if that’s somethin’ you’d want. No pressure.”
You laugh, eyes twinkling as Paige’s cheeks flush pink. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you tease her. 
Paige huffs, flopping dramatically onto her other side and putting her back to you. “Goodbye!” 
You can’t stop the smile from spreading across your cheeks but you do stop laughing. You reach out, resting your hand tentatively over her bicep as you hook your chin over her shoulder. “Hey, come on,” you say. “I can’t be the only one who has to be vulnerable.” You can nearly visualize Paige’s eye roll, but she does shift again, meeting your eyes. “I’d like that. Figuring this out with you, I mean.”
Her eyes light up, a slow smile dragging across her face. You don’t even think she’s consciously aware of how happy she looks. “You’re for real?”
You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “Yes, Paige, I’m for real.”
“Good,” she states, beaming.
“Now can we finish our project?”
Paige groans dramatically, rolling over again until she’s sprawled out over you. She hitches one of her obnoxiously long legs across yours, looping an arm around your waist and making herself at home like she’s done this hundreds of times. You can’t stop the flutter in your chest, smiling despite yourself. “Do we gotta?”
“Do you gotta pass AP Lit?” you retort. 
That prompts a sigh from Paige, who untangles herself from you to reach for the laptop she’d pushed haphazardly to the foot of the bed. You miss her warmth immediately, but she’s not gone for long before she’s leaning back against your headboard, your thighs pressed together. She doesn’t make any move to turn it back on, her eyes finding yours instead. You look at her curiously.
“I just want you to know I’m serious about this,” she says honestly, taking you by surprise. “About us.” You soften. “I know a lot of people have hurt you. I’on wanna be one of them. You’re my best friend, you know? I care about you. So…let’s take this slow for now, lemme know how you’re feelin’, yeah?”
You nod, smiling gently and she gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Same goes for you,” you say, leaning into her a little. She presses herself into your body, her chin brushing against your temple as she nods her head. 
“Promise,” she murmurs. 
And with that vow lingering in the air, the two of you share private, almost starstruck grins and get back to work. Once you finally call it quits fifteen minutes later and you submit your project, Paige is all too content to push your laptop to the side again as she wraps an arm around you fully and begins her scroll through Netflix despite the fact that you know the two of you will be watching High School Musical sooner rather than later. You grin to yourself when she does eventually put it on, not fighting the way your cheeks burn when she absentmindedly plays with your fingers or the way your heart races when she shifts to get comfortable, your legs tangling together. 
As you watch the movie, Paige’s words circulate on repeat in your brain. A lot of people have hurt you. I don’t want to be one of them. You know better than anyone that getting hurt is just another part of life. Despite yourself, you can’t help but believe her, confident that no matter what, your heart will be safe in her hands. You don’t think much of Mack’s warning, of Paige’s celebrity, of just how young the two of you are to be making these kinds of promises. You’re not thinking of the future at all. Your happiness clouds your judgement, and whether you realize it or not, you and Paige are operating on borrowed time. 
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Things with Paige are great. Scratch that, they’re nothing short of amazing. The two of you spend the entirety of winter break attached at the hip, splitting your time between your house where you drink copious amounts of hot chocolate and binge silly Christmas movies and her house where you and Drew, her little brother, gang up on her in snowball fights. She whines about the fact it’s two on one, but you point out the fact she’s got an arm like a quarterback and it’s only fair. She only really understands what you mean by that when she launches a snowball at you hard enough to bruise your side, which cuts your snow day short. Paige apologizes profusely, much to your amusement, and she insists on “nursing you back to health” which, in retrospect, seems to have been a clever ploy to get you away from her family and into her arms in the comfort of her room — not that you really needed much convincing for that. 
Sometimes, your days are spent in the park, when Paige gets too restless being inside and wants to play basketball. The two of you shovel away enough snow to reveal the three point line and you rebound for Paige as she shoots. She only manages to get a couple of shots in before her hands get too cold and she starts complaining that the only way to warm them back up is if you’ll hold them. You oblige, you always do, endlessly endeared by her (mostly because you can always spot her gloves hanging out of her back pocket).
The park becomes a place of comfort for the two of you. It’s late December in Minnesota so you almost always have the park to yourselves. You’re able to talk freely without either of your annoying little brothers constantly barging in or worrying about your parents catching you. Paige is out to her family and the Bueckers support her wholeheartedly. You’re not out to your parents yet. You know they wouldn’t particularly mind, either; if anything, they’d probably just implement a really strict open door policy, but it’s still all really new to you. You like Paige. A lot. You fall for her more and more everyday. She’s goofy, sweet (even when she’s teasing you or getting on your nerves), confident, and she always knows how to make you laugh. She’s attentive and she listens. Liking Paige is something you’ve accepted, but you can’t help but be scared of the fact that you don’t really know anything about yourself. 
You can’t figure out if you like girls or if you just like Paige. You can’t look at anyone that’s not her and before her, you’d never even looked twice at another girl. Sure, you always averted your eyes when you passed Victoria’s Secret in the mall and you were really obsessed with Shego from Kim Possible and Starfire from Teen Titans, which could mean nothing. You can’t figure out if you like boys, either, if Logan was a one time thing or if you’d just confused yourself because you wanted to fit in. You don’t know if you’re a lesbian, or if you’re bisexual, something in between or nothing at all. You should be fine with knowing that you like Paige. People always say you don’t have to label it, but labeling means that you know and that it’s real and you can’t help but think that because you don’t know what you’re doing, that you’re doing it wrong or you’re just faking it all.
So you don’t tell your parents. You’re still trying to make sense of it all and you tell Paige as much, honestly a little fearful of her rejection. Part of you feels like you’re leading her on because you can’t give her a straight (no pun intended) answer.
“You don’t gotta have it figured out right now,” she tells you a few days after Christmas. The two of you are back in the park, savoring the peace in the emptiness as you sit side by side on the swings, swaying gently.
You groan a little. “I hate when people say that,” you respond. “I feel like I should know.”
Her eyes find you, warm and patient despite the chill and the fact you’ve been going back and forth on this for days now with you stressing out and Paige being endlessly reassuring about it. “Maybe you do know and you just can’t, like, put it into words?” she offers, drawing your attention. “Sexuality is a spectrum. It doesn’t have to be difficult. You don’t gotta look back on your life for evidence to prove it or whatever. Just be you.”
You fall silent, her words hitting home, and you hate the fact that you’ve been losing your mind over this and all it really took to find some clarity was a conversation with Paige on a swing. Maybe she was right. She usually is about things like this. But you can’t help but feel like you’re missing something. You were the type of person who needed a reason or an explanation for everything. 
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” you rush out, barely registering the raise of Paige’s eyebrows. “I know we said slow. I can do that. But I really like you, like really really like you, and that’s all I’m certain of. I don’t know everything else and I feel like I should because you know everything else—”
“I don’t,” she interrupts, but you keep rambling.
“—but I like you. You’re sweet and you’re kind and you understand me when I don’t understand myself. You always make me feel secure and I hate that this is so confusing!”
Her gloved hand slides into your hoodie pocket. Her fingers tangle with yours, calming a tremor you hadn’t realized you were harboring. She murmurs your name, pulling your gaze to hers, and she squeezes your hand. “Breathe,” she instructs. You do, calming the incessant thrum of your heart. “There we go.” When you’re feeling a little more stable, she continues. “You’re overthinking it.”
“I don’t wanna mess up with you,” you confess, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders when it’s out.
“You won’t,” she promises. “We agreed we’d figure it out, remember? And even if you do mess up, it’s not gonna change how I feel about you. I like you, like really really like you.” This makes you laugh, your breath steaming in the air. “That’s what matters. You like me. I like you. You don’t need to explain why you feel a way and you can’t fake how you feel. I know you.” The expression on Paige’s face is unbelievably fond and you can’t help yourself when you smile, your cheeks heating up. “See?” Paige says with a grin, poking your cheek. “Can’t fake that blush, ma.”
“You’re impossible,” you huff, pushing her hand away, unable to curb your grin. But your rejection does little to stop Paige. Her hands find your sides, tickling you, and you immediately begin squirming in the midst of your giggles. “Paige! You are so annoying—!”
You lose your balance on the swing and you fall off, tumbling safely to the bed of snow beneath you with a slight oof sound. Paige follows you down, the both of you smiling as you try to catch your breaths. She wipes a tear off your cheek that had slipped out in your fits of laughter and it’s only then that you register your position. She’s straddling you, the beanie on her head lopsided from your scuffle, but the joy on her face is radiant despite the blush on her cheeks — whether it’s from the cold or her feelings for you, you don’t know, and when her hand lingers on her cheek, her expression softening, you find that you don’t care. “Paige,” you murmur. You feel your heart slamming against your ribcage, but for different reasons now. 
“Can I kiss you?” she blurts. Judging by the way her face contorts, it seems that she hadn’t expected to say that out loud, but you’re nodding, hands reaching up to grip the collar of her coat and you bring her down to your level. 
When your lips meet, you feel warm all over, like you’re not laying in the snow with Paige’s legs bracketing your thighs. It’s tentative, uncoordinated, and it’s clear that neither of you really know what you’re doing, but it’s your first kiss and it’s with Paige and it’s nothing short of perfect. Your lips move against hers slowly, her hands gentle on your cheeks. Your grip on her coat loosens, wrapping around her neck and pulling her a little closer to you. Her nose brushes against yours and you gasp from the chill of it, which causes her to sigh against you. You’re not really sure who’s leading, but for once, your brain is blissfully quiet; your heart pounds, feeling nothing but a nervous excitement and unfiltered adoration.
You break away for air. Your breaths mingle, clouds of steam fogging between you two and Paige grins down at you, her expression full of fondness and something electric that makes you want to drag her back down again. So you do, your hands a little more insistent this time, and she responds eagerly. Despite the intensity, Paige is unbelievably gentle and each and every press of her lips against yours is sweet. And it’s corny, but your brain feels a little clearer after having Paige’s lips on yours, like you no longer have to search for answers. Like she’s the answer.
She pulls away, her forehead against yours, and you press a gentle kiss to her cheek. Her eyes open slowly, a blush and a smile simultaneously appearing on her face in response. “What was that for?” she asks.
You smile, shrugging a little in response. “It felt right,” you respond, which only seems to make her smile grow. “Someone once told me I don’t always have to have an explanation.”
Paige huffs out a quiet laugh, her eyes crinkling in amusement and fondness. “They sound really smart,” she jokes. 
Your hand finds her cheek, your thumb stroking her dimple. “She is,” you say seriously. Paige’s expression softens, leaning into your touch. “She’s the best person I know.”
“I bet she thinks the same about you,” Paige whispers. 
Despite yourself, you grin, connecting your lips again. The chill nips at your cheeks but the weight of Paige on top of you grounds you, her warmth stabilizing and comforting, and you know in your heart that you’re doing something right.
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New Year’s comes and goes and before you know it, school is starting back up in January. Between you and Paige, a lot of things stay the same. She still drives you to school in the morning, often stopping by Dunkin’ and buying you your favorite coffee. On days she doesn’t have practice, she’ll either drive you home or take you to her place where you either work on homework together (although you don’t get much done, most of the time) or binge television together. Paige has you invested in Grey’s Anatomy now, but the two of you have promised to not watch it without the other.
On the other hand, some things do change. Paige walks you to all of your classes now, even when hers aren’t anywhere near yours. Arguing with her was useless, so you learned to suck it up. She kisses you in the empty hallways, something chaste and sweet and sneaky that leaves you wanting more – that was a new thing. Before her, you never realized how nice kissing can be. You’re sure it’s mostly because you’re super into her regardless, but there’s also something about the casual intimacy that you fall for each and every time. She’s gentle and considerate and you’re just so hopelessly attracted to her that you really should have known that kissing her for the first time would alter your brain chemistry. For now, the two of you are content to appreciate the peace and the privacy that you have. Neither of you tell your friends or your family, though you’re sure Mack and Serena are starting to have their suspicions. They’ve asked you a few times, and while you’re not a very good liar, they seem to accept your rejections as they are and they don’t push any further.
Although you do have one, teensy-tiny problem. Paige hasn’t asked you to be her girlfriend yet. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about that, but there is a lingering nervousness and you’re a little hesitant to ask her about it without sounding obsessive or clingy or insecure. In mid-December, you established that you liked each other, although neither of you really did much about that until you kissed in late-December after Christmas. Did kissing her mean the two of you were dating now? Since then, the two of you have kissed a lot. It reminds you of the scene from Glee where Brittany says, ‘Sex isn’t dating. If it was, Santana and I would be dating,’ and granted, while having sex and just kissing are two different things, you’re starting to feel a little worried by the fact that you and Paige are conventionally girlfriends but not technically.
You convince yourself that maybe you and Paige were just being mature about it. High school relationships have almost redefined what dating actually means. You can’t just ask someone to be your boyfriend or girlfriend and then start the ‘dating period’ per se. You should probably do the ‘dating period’ first and then make it official once you’ve figured out if you’re compatible. You and Paige, however, have been friends for a little over three months, been in this weird ‘dating’ phase for a little less than one month of that time, and by now you’re pretty certain that you and Paige are very compatible. She’s your best friend. But you really want to make it official with her. You’re just not sure how or if she’s on the same page yet.
Making it official with Paige also means making it official to your parents. That thought doesn’t intimidate you as much as it used to. You’re a lot more comfortable in your sexuality now. You’re pretty much head over heels for Paige, you like girls, and you couldn’t care less about boys. Whether that makes you a lesbian or Paige-sexual as Paige had cracked herself up calling it is a discussion for another day. You’re secure in the fact that Paige’s parents aren’t going to care, that your parents won’t mind, either, and that your classmates are worried more about themselves than whoever you of all people are dating. Being out just means you don’t have to stress about sneaking around or if someone’s going to walk into the girl’s bathroom when you’re making out with Paige. Not that you make out with Paige in the girl’s bathroom, because that would just be kind of insane. But hypothetically if you were making out with Paige in the girl’s bathroom, then you wouldn’t have to be scared of getting caught by a classmate. Hypothetically.
The first Friday night home game after winter break is one that you were looking forward to. You knew the Royals were playing a weaker team, so you were excited to see Paige show out, especially after getting to witness first-hand a lot of the effort she’d put into honing her skills over the break. She gave you a ride to school, forced you into her hoodie (yes, the one with her jersey number and her last name on the back and yes, you didn’t really need to be convinced, but you really liked the warmth of her hands on your skin as she helped you into it), and kissed you over the center console of her stepmom’s SUV. It was enough to short circuit your brain. You didn’t need to see her expression to know the reaction she’d elicited from you had made her incredibly smug, but you could visualize it all the same as she made her way to the locker room with her duffle bag slung over her shoulder. Paige Bueckers was going to be the death of you. That much you were sure of.
She��s pure electricity that night. You knew the game was going to be a blowout, but this was next level. If you weren’t so distracted by Paige and the way she was slicing through their defense, you would probably feel bad for the other team. She was putting up insane numbers – 15 points in the first quarter alone, six assists – but she was doing her thing on defense, too. She was clamping the offense, forcing their shots to bounce harmlessly off the rim, and late in the second quarter, she even had a clean block that ricocheted off of the offense and awarded the Royals with the ball. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her. Judging by the glances she’d shoot your way anytime they’d line up for free throws, you’re positive that she knew of your evident distraction, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed by it. Watching Paige play was a source of pride for you. She was so good at it and she works so hard everyday to show up and show out. It honestly makes you a little emotional in a good way. You’re just proud of her, of her successes. You admire her dedication and her love for the spot, the care she puts in day in and day out to be the best.
Once the game ends, you make your way out of the crowded gym and out to her mom’s SUV, starting the ignition and settling into the passenger seat. You knew that Paige would have a long line of people to greet and that she was adamant about showering before getting anywhere near you after a game. As much as you would love to see her and hang out right after, the both of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get in a word edgewise. This arrangement, however, did have its positives. The two of you cherished the time you got to spend alone without dozens of eyes on you and you appreciated being able to speak freely. You pull out your phone, scrolling through social media as you wait for Paige.
She doesn’t keep you waiting too long. You spot her walking your direction, bag slung over her shoulder again and her hair thrown up in a loose bun. She’s illuminated by the streetlight but you know well enough by now that the glow on her face is from the sweetness of the win. You smile, your heart thrumming a kind of anticipation that only Paige has ever been able to draw from you. She opens the driver’s side door, sliding in with a happy grin, and tosses her bag into the backseat before she’s leaning over the center console with a murmured greeting, planting an easy kiss on your cheek. You don’t fight the heat on your cheeks, your smile growing bigger when her hand finds yours.
“Good game, superstar,” you tease, relishing in the bashful smile that overtakes her face.
“Thank you,” she says. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes finding yours. “There was a pretty girl in the stands. I had to show out for her.”
“Oh?” you ask, feigning curiosity. “Where is she? Not just anyone captures the Paige Bueckers’s eye.”
Paige grins at you again, mischievous and wicked and fond all at the same time. “She’s right where she needs to be,” she retorts, which makes your smile soften into something more tender. “You’re right, though. She’s not just anyone. She’s kind, and funny, and smart, and she’s got this heart of gold. And she’s got this smile that makes you weak in the knees and she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.”
“Get a grip,” you say, trying to regain your dignity and trying to ignore the blush on your cheeks to the best of your ability. Judging by the way Paige’s smile turns smug, you don’t think it’s working. “You know I like you. You don’t have to woo me.”
“I do,” Paige insists, finally giving you a moment of reprieve when she puts the vehicle in drive and begins making her way out of the parking lot. Once the two of you became friendly and you started showing up to more of her games, a trip out to Dairy Queen became your post-game tradition. She’d buy the two of you a blizzard and she’d park in a quiet, empty lot while you chatted for what felt like minutes but would quickly turn into hours. You know the night’s only over when your spoon hits the bottom of your cup and Paige starts losing her filter. Now, it’s something that you look forward to. “Gotta keep you on your toes. Romance is lifelong, baby. You don’t stop once you got the girl.”
You can’t stop your sudden laughter, amused by her antics. “You got the girl?”
She shoots you an indignant look. “Don’t play. You know I got it like that. I’m all romantical and shit.”
“Total lady killer,” you deadpan. “I’m swooning.”
“You will be,” she agrees. “You make fun of me now but you keep on comin’ back. You just can’t resist Paige Buckets.”
“Maybe I just feel bad for you.” Paige huffs at this, but a smile is quirking on her face. “And nobody calls you Paige Buckets.”
“I do,” she retorts. “Which makes it real. I think therefore I am. That’s Shakespeare.”
“It’s not – you know what? Sure,” you snort, knowing full well that the two of you will sit here for hours arguing about it. “Don’t quit basketball.”
Paige smirks at you as she pulls into the Dairy Queen drive-thru. “Never,” she affirms, only looking away from you when the speaker crackles to life. Paige rattles off your orders (knowing yours by heart, which doesn’t make you feel a little soft) and pulls forward when requested. You make light small talk while you wait for your ice creams and Paige pays – as always; you’d tried once and she confiscated your card until she dropped you off at your house. Then she’s driving off in search of the parking lot you always chill at, her ice cream in the cup holder, her hands firmly on the wheel and eyes on the road. You feed her bites of yours when she stops at red lights, the sheer domesticity of it all feeling so right.
When the vehicle is safely in park, she moves the seat back a few inches, stretching out her legs as one of her playlists echoes through the speakers, a mix of The Weeknd, Brent Faiyaz, and Bryson Tiller. The energy in the car, mellowed out and calmer, still sparks with a sort of electricity that always encompasses you and Paige. Her smiles feel a little looser, more purposeful, and her eyes linger on your face when she looks at you. You talk about everything and nothing, recounting the game and Paige’s insane plays, the homework you’ve neglected to make the most of this time with her, and the date she was taking you on tomorrow night. You’re both nearing the bottoms of your cups, spoons scraping against plastic, and with a soft smile, she offers you the last bite of hers. Her thumb swipes at your bottom lip to clean a bit of ice cream that had run astray. It makes your heart beat a little faster. Paige always had this uncanny ability to make you nervous, to make all of your neurons fire at the same time. You came to the realization long ago that you were hopelessly attracted to her, but it’s times like these that remind you of just how magnetic she is.
The two of you have been here for over an hour now. A glance at the clock tells you that it’s nearing midnight. It always surprises you how easy it is to pass time with Paige. You know that it’s time for the both of you to start making your way home, but Paige doesn’t make any move to shift the car into gear, and you honestly don’t want the moment to end either. You also know that Paige is reaching the end of her sensibilities, her laughs a little brighter and delirious, her fingers restless in how they twist the ring on your thumb.
“You okay?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something that’s keeping her here, if she needs you to drive home or if there’s something else weighing on her. She meets your eyes, a tender smile on her face, her expression soft and sleepy and enamored.
“I’m perfect,” she whispers. “Can we just…sit here a little longer?” The last part is even quieter, if that was at all possible, and you nod. Her fingers tangle with yours fully. And then she starts rambling. “‘M really glad Mr. Mattson partnered us up for that project,” she admits. “It brought me to you. I’on know if I woulda had the courage to talk to you otherwise.”
You giggle, a little in disbelief. “You, nervous?” you repeat. “No way.”
Paige nods emphatically, completely serious. “Yes way. You’re…you’re beautiful, you know that? Like scary beautiful. Like make a girl get super rich during Prohibition, build a mansion, and yearn for you from afar beautiful.”
She grins at you as you roll your eyes. “You are so full of it.”
“And yet,” she murmurs, her thumb rubbing soothing circles across your knuckles, “you put up with me, anyway.” You nod, conceding, and she continues. “Point is, you kinda make me nervous. In a good way. I just… I feel like I need to impress you and do right by you. Guess what I’m tryin’ to say is you make me be the best version of myself. And I, you know, I really like doing this with you.”
You smile softly and squeeze her hand. “I like doing this with you, too,” you admit, drawing a smile from Paige.
Then, she’s shifting in her seat, angling her body towards yours, and her face is pensive, like she’s debating with herself internally. You almost ask her if she’s okay but her next words steal the very breath from your lungs. “Will you be my girlfriend?” she says, and your jaw drops slightly, unsure if you’ve even heard her correctly. Then, she’s sighing, clearing her throat and trying again. “I mean, can I be your girlfriend?” The clarification does little to calm the thumping of your heart. The words get stuck in your throat, emotions swirling through you. Excitement. Relief. Anticipation. An overwhelming amount of affection. Paige seems to mistake your stunned silence for rejection because she starts rambling again. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I had this whole thing planned out and it was supposed to be really romantic. I was gonna ask you at dinner tomorrow, like I already called the restaurant and I was gonna get you a slice of cheesecake because you hate the other kind of cake and it was gonna have the, you know, the question on it and I wrote you a letter ‘cause I can’t talk around you, and–”
You curl your fingers in the fabric of her hoodie and you pull her across the center console,  shutting her up with a kiss. She relaxes instantly, melting into your embrace as her hands find your hips, trying to minimize the space between your bodies. She breaks away, huffing because the center console is in her fucking way, and before you know it, she’s lifting you by your waist and drops you on her lap, kissing you again with a different kind of urgency that’s equal parts relief, gratitude, and so much unrestrained fondness. You wrap your arms around her neck, trying to angle your kiss so you can regain some control because her pace and intensity is honestly making you a little dizzy.
When you run out of air, you plant both of your hands on her chest, pulling away from her with considerable difficulty. You have to stop yourself from kissing her again because you know you’re not going to get another word out. You lean back, smiling when you take in the unmistakable shine in her eyes, the dopey grin on her lips. Your noses brush when you finally respond with a simple, “Yes.”
“Yeah?” she repeats, her arms looping around your waist to hold you a little closer to her body. She looks up at you, her happiness evident, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in to plant one more lingering kiss to her mouth, humming an affirmative. “Knew you’d say yes. I’m irresistible.”
You pull away from her to laugh in disbelief. “Okay, I see how you’re forgetting the whole ‘I wrote you a letter ‘cause I can’t talk around you’ business. Which, by the way, I wanna see, but you’re so lucky you’re cute because you’re kind of a loser.”
“Loser?” she exclaims, indignant. “Nah, that’s actually crazy!”
“No! Like, you’re this badass athlete and you just dropped like 40 points–”
“43,” she cuts in.
“–40 points tonight and you’re over here nervous about asking me to be your girlfriend–”
“I wanted it to be perfect! It was gonna be perfect but you looked so pretty and I couldn’t wait!”
“Babe,” you say, laughing under your breath, your expression fond as you cup her cheeks, drawing her eyes up to yours. “It’s perfect because it’s us, okay? Us, cramped in your mom’s Honda Pilot, our half melted Dairy Queen and your freaky ass R&B.”
“S’not freaky,” she huffs, but you don’t pay her any mind.
“This was perfect,” you reiterate, your voice softening. Paige exhales under you, taking your words to heart. “Being with you is perfect. But is the cheesecake still on the table for tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Paige says, a furrow in her brow. “Just pretend to be surprised when it comes out.” You hum against her again, kissing her cheek, and she squeezes your waist a little, her voice suddenly a lot more nervous. “Uh, what does this mean for us? I mean…like our parents?”
You’re surprised by how calm you are by the question. You play with the stray hairs at the back of her neck, shrugging an unbothered shoulder. “You wanna tell them?” you ask her.
“I wanna do what you want,” she deflects.
“I want you to answer my question,” you retort.
Paige rolls her eyes, amused. “I would…like to be out. With them, at least. I’on wanna hide forever…but I know this is still kinda new for you. And we don’t have to do nothin’ serious at school, either. Seriously. Whatever you want.” Her hands are warm as they slip under your – her – hoodie, and the touch makes you feel more grounded.
“We can tell them tomorrow?” you offer, hesitant, but when Paige’s face lights up, you know you’ve made the right choice. “As for school, I think I wanna enjoy this while it’s still ours, you know? Just us. I wouldn’t mind being public eventually but I do mind the attention. I guess what I mean is we can be out but I don’t want everyone in our business.”
“Private, not a secret?” she asks, and you nod, relieved because she understands exactly what you were trying to say. ��That works for me. And we can tell our parents tomorrow before we go out? Together?”
“Together,” you confirm, a smile lighting up your features.
She leans in to kiss you again, her own smile growing against your lips. Her nose brushes yours when she draws back enough to speak. “Just want you,” she promises. “Nothing else matters to me. Other people, the internet, nothing. Just lemme know how you’re feeling and we’ll handle it, okay?”
“Promise,” you swear. Paige grins at you again, drawing you in for a hug. You sit there in her arms for a while before you find your way back to the passenger seat and she drives the two of you back home.
She bids you a goodnight in the car, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before you stand on your porch to unlock the door. She doesn’t drive off until you’re safely inside. When you’re finally in your room, you don’t take the hoodie off, comforted by Paige’s scent encompassing you, and you fall asleep with an unshakable happiness in your heart and a smile on your face.
(The next day, you and Paige tell your parents, officially. You start with the Bueckers’ first and it goes as well as you were expecting. You and your girlfriend sat them down, explaining, we’re dating and we’re very happy. Moe gave the two of you comforting smiles, but Bob cleared his throat and admitted, “Uh…yeah, we saw you kiss on the Ring doorbell.” You wanted to crawl into a hole and die, to be honest, but Moe and Bob pulled the both of you into hugs and promised that as long as you and Paige were safe and happy, then they were happy for you.
Then, it was time for your family, and you were a little nervous. Granted, they had no idea that you liked girls, let alone would date one. Their reaction was basically the same as the Bueckers’, informing you that they had their suspicions since you and Paige were glued at the hip and that your little brother told them that he was pretty sure he almost saw the two of you kiss almost a month and a half ago. That was objectively worse than the Bueckers’ catching you on the ring doorbell. You were correct in assuming they’d make you keep your door open when Paige is over. And judging by the slightly horrified expression on Paige’s face when your dad finishes talking to her in private, you’re pretty sure he gave her the shovel talk of the century.
And, just so it’s absolutely clear, the date that Paige takes you on that evening is the best date you’ve ever been on – so far. She brings you flowers, pulls your chair out for you, and enchants you all night long with easy conversation. When the waitress brings out your slice of cheesecake with Will you be my girlfriend? written in strawberry puree, you sell your surprise and performance so well that the waitress brings out a second slice, chocolate flavored just for Paige. You’re sure that the night couldn’t get any better, but before she drops you off at home, she reads that damn letter to you and you can’t stop the happy tears. She kisses you goodnight, her expression adoring, and you know that you have the best girlfriend in the world.)
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The rest of junior year passes in a blur. You’re the happiest you’ve been in your entire life, your grades are phenomenal, and Paige leads her team to a blowout state championship win. As if that wasn’t electrifying enough, she signed with the University of Connecticut the week after the tournament ended on April 19th. Your girlfriend was officially a Husky and would bleed blue for her college career. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmingly proud of her – playing for UConn has been her life goal, hoping to cement her name as one of the greats next to Sue Bird, Diana Taurasi, Maya Moore. While you couldn’t get into UConn with as much ease as she did, UConn would be the first school you submitted your application for once October rolled around. You weren’t sure who was more excited – you or Paige – at the prospect of going to college together, but what you did know was that you couldn’t wait to cheer her on as she took the world by storm.
With the harder parts of the school year long gone, the time for prom came around in late April. Paige secured your tickets as soon as they went on sale and was dead set on making it the best night of your life. She prom-posed to you with what was possibly the cheesiest sign in the world: it was decorated with lopsided basketballs (although you appreciated the fact that Paige made her sign completely homemade) and read ‘Together, we’re a slam dunk. Take a shot at prom with me?’ and there was no way in hell you’d ever say no to something like that. It took you less than four hours to find the perfect dress, although you spent a week with Paige travelling from mall to boutique to find the perfect thing for her to wear. Dress shopping with Paige proved to be a difficult task, especially for someone who seemed to hate dresses as much as she did. When you suggested she just wear a pair of jeans and a nice shirt, she nearly lost her mind in the middle of the store.
“What kind of date wears jeans and a shirt to prom?” she’d exclaimed, rifling through the dress racks, beginning to ramble. “No, ‘cause that actually pisses me off. Like, you see all these girls walkin’ around in these pretty dresses, make up done to the nines, and their boyfriends can’t even be bothered to iron their shirts?”
“I want you to be comfortable,” you said to her. “What you’re wearing won’t matter to me. You know that.”
She huffed, pulling a black dress off the rack and holding it to her torso, glancing in the mirror with a pensive expression. “It matters to me. I can’t be caught dead next to you lookin’ like an idiot.”
“Well…” you trailed off, much to her chagrin, and she pouted at you dramatically as you laughed. “Get that one,” you advised. “It won’t be super tight on you so you’ll have some breathing room. And I like the way your arms will look in it.” When she tried it on, you walked in on her in the dressing room flexing in the mirror, and, well, you were right.
With the dress debacle out of the way, that meant you had to consider other factors, like your matching corsages and dinner beforehand. Those were slightly less intimidating decisions to make. Paige knew next to nothing about flowers and her only demand was “they have to look nice,” so you found the corsages. You weren’t paying for dinner and Paige knew your likes and dislikes like the back of her hand, so she handled the reservations and promised she wouldn’t dirty Moe’s SUV if the two of you could borrow it for the night. All that was left was prom itself and considering it would be your first and you don’t get another junior prom, you were incredibly excited for it.
Dinner was nice – it would have been hard to fuck up since Paige chose a restaurant she knew you liked and it was hard to not enjoy your time with her anyhow. She serenaded you as she drove, belting Keyshia Cole’s Love like she was a contestant on The Voice. And, sure, it was incredibly off-key and her voice cracked during the vocal flips on “I found,” but you couldn’t help your endearment for her. Making you laugh was one of the things she was a master at. You arrived at the school in good spirits, turned in your tickets without an issue, and entered the gym with high hopes.
The music is thumping, echoing throughout the gym. You can feel the bass in the floor and your body almost immediately vibrates from the noise. Paige curses lightly under her breath, her hand finding yours with a wince, and she glances at you curiously, a simple you okay? visible in her eyes. You nod and she leads you over to the drink table where she gives the two-liter soda bottle a cursory sniff before pouring it in a red solo cup for you. You remember hearing that last year’s prom got cancelled early because someone spiked the punch bowl, which is why they shifted to pouring directly from plastic bottles, but you could never be too sure and you appreciated Paige for her protectiveness.
As you drink, you take in the decorations. The student council was tasked with setting everything up – deciding on the theme, ordering the decorations, putting them up. As you glance around the packed gym, your eyes taking in the streamers and the lights (you pretend that you don’t notice a section of lights that have already been ripped down), you determine that you really can’t tell what the prom theme is supposed to be. A girl and her date pass by you in a 20s flapper dress and a wrinkled button up with Timbs, of all shoes; then you’re passed by a girl wearing polka dots and her date in a graphic t-shirt. You’re getting a lot of mixed signals right now.
“Wanna dance?” Paige asks you and you nod, throwing your cup away, allowing your girlfriend to lead you to an emptier section of the gym. For a while, you’re not really sure what’s playing until the bass drop is over and you realize it’s some remixed version of Zedd’s Clarity. You glance around, watching people dance. There’s a group of students towards the front of the gym near the DJ stand jumping up and down like it’s a mosh pit. There’s another section of people bobbing their heads and moving stiffly. To your right, there’s a group swaying, their phones raised as they capture the moment.
“This is not what I thought prom would be,” you comment off-handedly to Paige, who’s halfheartedly shimmying. 
She shrugs a shoulder, reaching out for your hands with a smile and pulling you closer to her, making sure to leave room for Jesus, as she’d once joked. “We can make our own fun,” she yells over the thump of the music. She drags you into an awkward, uncoordinated and off-rhythm shimmy-dance-shake thing, but her smile is infectious enough that you’re throwing all caution to the wind as you allow her to lead you. You laugh along with her for the remainder of the song before you’re joined by a few of her teammates and their dates. Paige introduces you and together, the small group of you dance to a few more songs. You take a few group photos in varying poses, then find some snacks, and you burn another half hour dancing before the pain in your feet gets to be too much and the music starts giving you a headache.
You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you have to admit that prom is a weird mix of overwhelming and lackluster. It’s a lot better with friends, though; the short period of time you spent with Paige’s teammates was invigorating but there’s just not a lot to do that’s not eating, dancing, taking photos, or watching people try to dance. You intertwine your fingers with Paige’s, drawing her attention and whispering in her ear about needing air. She nods, leading you towards the door and snagging another drink for you on the way out. The cool breeze and the peace does wonders for you.
“I’on wanna ruin your night,” Paige begins, a little sheepish, “but was this kinda…”
“Lame?” you supply, watching the relief spread across Paige’s face.
“Yeah,” she agrees. You offer her a sip of the soda and she takes it gratefully, holding onto the cup for you as you toe off your heels, lowering yourself to the sidewalk and taking a seat. You stretch out your legs, sighing when the pressure in your feet is alleviated. “Wanna get Dairy Queen after this?”
You groan, leaning your head onto hers as she wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Like you even have to ask,” you murmur, appreciative of the peace. Paige chuckles, her thumb rubbing against your shoulder. The two of you sit there for a while soaking it all in before the music inside dies down. You can hear the echo of the DJ as he tells everyone to partner up for the slow dance. Paige sets your cup on the ground, removing her arm and standing up. You glance at her as she extends her hand for you to take.
“May I have this dance?” she asks, and you laugh, unable to say no. You allow her to pull you to your feet as the opening notes of Taylor Swift’s Crazier bleed through the gym walls. She navigates you both to the grass, your feet bare against the cool ground, and she wraps her arms around your waist as yours go around her neck.
I'd never gone with the wind, just let it flow
Let it take me where it wants to go
The two of you sway, the sound of chirping crickets serving as the perfect background to the gentle hum of the music through the walls. Her hands are warm on your side, her chin pressed to the top of your head, your face cradled gently against her chest. If you were being honest, this is probably the most content you’ve been since dinner – being alone with Paige has a way of cheering you up.
I was trying to fly, but I couldn't find wings
But you came along and you changed everything
Paige starts humming the lyrics, the vibrations of her voice soothing you as you follow her lead. Your fingers smooth some of the flyaway strands at the back of her neck, hands mapping the expanse of her toned shoulders, content to just feel her and relish in this tender, unexpecting intimacy.
You lift my feet off the ground
You spin me around
You make me crazier, crazier
It’s then that you’re hit with a gentle realization, the lyrics resonating with you. You and Paige have been together for close to four months at this point, although it feels closer to five months since you admitted your feelings to her back in late December. Every day since then has been full of nothing but pure enjoyment, a whole lot of care, and some of the best times of your life. Paige has this way of always making you smile, even when the day gets hard, this way of making you feel so appreciated and cared for. You’re young and you really weren’t expecting her to come into your life the way she did, but you really can’t deny this overflow of emotion that you feel when she’s around. You know exactly why you feel this way.
You lift your head off her chest, your hands resting on the tops of her shoulders as you pull back far enough to look her in the eye. She gazes at you curiously, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips, and you can’t help your smile as you kiss her tenderly. She responds, pulling you flush against her, and you know that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
“What was that for?” she whispers, an enamored little grin on her face, cheeks bright with a blush.
You don’t hesitate. “I just love you,” you confess.
You expect her to freeze up. You expect her jaw to go slack, to ask you to repeat what you said. Love wasn’t something you should just drop so casually – the both of you knew that. But Paige’s smile only grows, a lone dimple popping out as her eyes shine under the streetlight. She cups your cheeks in her hands and leans down to kiss you again. It’s soft, barely-there brushes that you can still feel in your heart; her lips ask you a simple question that you can’t help but answer. You lean into it, into the love that has built between the two of you over the months you’ve been together and the months you’ll be together in the future, into the shared promise of I’m yours.
“I love you,” Paige whispers, punctuating her words with a squeeze. “So much.”
You smile against her lips, letting her pull you back in. The music fades into nothing, your focus entirely on Paige, on the way her lips move against yours, the way her hands cradle your face, the way she loves you. You’ve given your heart over to her completely and she cherishes it like it’s her own. Sometimes, there are things you’re just born knowing, and right now, you know that everything in your life has led you to being here now, to being Paige’s. You couldn’t think of anything better than that.
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SENIOR YEAR – 2019-2020
Senior year is the beginning of the end.
You and Paige spend summer break attached at the hip, but not overbearingly so. You’d gotten a part-time job mostly to make some extra money and to make your resume look a little better, so you were occupied by that four days a week. Paige, on the other hand, was spending extra time in the gym and running drills with private trainers and coaches. She was committed to one of the best colleges in the country for basketball – summer was not the time to be slacking off. It was the time for her to get better, stronger, faster; if you wanted to celebrate with the best, you had to be the best, and Paige turned that pressure into motivation.
Above all else, you still made time for each other, even when she was exhausted from practicing and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die because food service sucks (seriously, you were a cashier – what makes people think you of all people fucked up their food? Your job was to hit buttons and ask if they wanted fries with that). At the heart of it, you and Paige were each other’s remedies. You were a source of peace, comfort, and relaxation. Honestly, much of the time the two of you shared over the summer was spent napping, but you weren’t going to complain. You were busy and she was busy and you’d take whatever you could get, even if that meant being the big spoon every other night.
Things weren’t harder by any means. They weren’t any easier, but they were just different. You had to get used to managing your time, learn how to effectively maintain a relationship when the only time you really get to see each other is once or twice a week (and when Paige is snoring for most of it). You’d argue that this is just making the two of you stronger. The two of you would only be busier in college. Now is the time for growing up and realizing that you couldn’t reasonably spend every waking moment together, as much as you would like to. You were fine, Paige was fine, the two of you communicated, and you were very happy.
Well, there was one slight issue.
Following Paige’s commitment, your Instagram messages and comments had been blowing up. It started small. There were joking comments (or so you’d hoped) with messages of ‘You better not distract Paige next season!’ and their variations. It all ramped up from there. Trolls accusing you of only dating Paige because she’d become a millionaire once she’s in college, accusing you of keeping her out of the gym. Someone even said that UConn wouldn’t win a national championship anytime soon considering their starting point guard would be too busy playing the part of a doting girlfriend.
You won’t lie. All of the comments and the messages were really heavy. Here you were, barely 18 and you had crazy fans of varying age levels all in your business and saying awful things. There were comments you wouldn’t even dream of repeating. You talked to Paige about it and she’d held you as you cried. It was less of the content, but it was more about the spam and the constant onslaught and the amount of people tearing you down for no good reason. Paige posted on her socials requesting for people to leave you alone. While there was an outcry of support from the kinder folk, you’d somehow gotten even more harassment in your messages. You eventually caved and privated all of your accounts, scrubbing the nasty comments and trying to go about your life.
The damage had already been done.
Senior year was supposed to be your best year thus far, yet everything was bleak. It was nowhere close to the academic rigor of your junior year, but you were taking a few more dual enrollment classes and a lone AP, which means you were spending a lot more of your time studying so your grades wouldn’t slip. You ended up having to drop one of your clubs, too. You were less upset about that one considering it wasn’t doing a lot for you anyways. The fact that everything started piling up and you had to make all of these ultimatums was weighing on you.
Paige was incredibly busy, too. Coming off of a championship win from the year before, her coach was determined to get them back there again this year. Practices were longer, more grueling, and as if those weren’t enough, Paige was spending more time in the gym alone to get shots in and run drills, like she had something to prove. Maybe she did. She needed to show that she wasn’t an overrated high school player, that Geno Auriemma didn’t make a mistake in recruiting her. She needed to prove that she has what it takes to go from a high school championship contending team to a collegiate championship contending team. Combined with her own classwork, she was running out of time to devote to you, so the two of you were honestly just stuck.
The time you did get to spend with one another never felt like it was enough. You tried your best to fit in dates that had nothing to do with school or basketball, just the two of you. You loved each other. You would go through worse things than this, and you were dedicated to making it work, damn it. You communicated – or tried to, at least. You could tell Paige was under a lot of pressure, you knew her well enough by now. Anytime you brought it up, she’d always say that she’s just tired or that she needs to lock in because the pressure is only going to increase when she’s in college. You tried to help, but you just didn’t know how, and you were terrified of pushing her too far. She didn’t need you to be this clingy, obsessed girlfriend who can’t function without her, and maybe you were worried about becoming too much, too. It’s just a hard pill to swallow when you go from being all over each other in junior year to whatever the fuck this is now. You have to remind yourself that you and Paige need the space to be your own people. You’re changing, she’s changing, and you can’t hold onto a past version of her – if you force her to be something she’s not, you’ll just lose her, and that’s not something you can stomach. So you take her word for it, letting her be her own person, even if it feels like you’re still losing a battle you could never have won in the first place.
Growing up is hard, isn’t it? 
And it’s weird – because it’s not like everything is bad. There’s a lot of good times, too. Paige still drives you home after her games, making sure to stop at Dairy Queen, making sure to fit in some time at that parking lot just to chat with you. Sometimes it gets a little heavy when she’s a few hours past delirious and her kisses become a little more insistent, sloppier against your skin and you both have to remember to chill out because your first time is not about to be in the backseat of her stepmom’s Honda Pilot. She still smiles at you like you’re her everything, because you are. It’s hard, but she moves mountains to make time for you, even if that just means spending the night at your house and in your arms and you do nothing but sleep because you’re both just exhausted from life.
You still wear her hoodie, the one with her number and her name on the back and the one that’s starting to smell like the perfect blend of the two of you. You leave your clothes at her house and she leaves hers at yours. You and Paige integrate so seamlessly into each other’s lives that the slow-forming rift between the two of you is unexpected when it eventually cracks, sending the two of you tumbling into a bottomless chasm. Somehow, you miss it entirely — the fractures, the shifting of tectonic plates. Maybe the hard truth is you don’t miss it at all, but you ignore it in hopes that you can patch up the lacerations. 
But that rift doesn’t actualize for another few months, for for now — you’re fine. Unknowing of what’s ahead of you, too busy and too in love to focus on anything but the present. 
The holidays are a much needed reprieve. Thanksgiving and Christmas back to back means your classwork finally lessens and Paige isn’t spending every waking moment in the gym. That doesn’t mean that she didn’t try to spend every waking moment in the gym, though. On the very first day of Thanksgiving break, you could feel her shifting around in your bed at an hour that was definitely not appropriate. She was apologetic for waking you up and said that she just wanted to get some shots in before the local rec teams took over the courts. You weren’t having any of it. Half-asleep, you’d dragged her back into bed with you, climbing on top of her and resting your head on her chest, murmuring nonsense about missing her. The details are fuzzy, but you do remember waking up some hours later after the sun finally rose and Paige was still in bed with you, her arms wrapped tight around your waist.
Spending so much uninterrupted time over break reminded you why you fell in love with Paige in the first place. It wasn’t like you were starved of reminders while you were both in school – she texted you good morning (although this was anywhere from 5-6am) and she texted you good night (anywhere from 12-1am); the knowledge that you were the first and the last thing on her mind made your heart race. She walked you to and from your classes, carried your bag for you, but it was that time outside of school that you were truly missing with her.
When you brush your teeth together in the morning, she flicks water at you teasingly and wipes the foam off your lip when you miss a spot. She’ll sit atop the counter and watch as you do your skincare or your makeup with an enamored look on her face. Most days, she allows you to do her mascara or apply some new skin cream on her face, although the latter usually ends with Paige whining about how it burns and you reminding her that just means it’s working. You spend time with each other’s family, you go on dates, open presents at each other’s house, and a few days after Christmas, she takes you back to the park where you’d shared your first kiss. It’s not your one year anniversary since Paige was, ugh, a gentlewoman and “courted” you (well, as well as high schoolers can “court”) prior to making it official, but it’s close enough for you. The realization that you’ve shared your life with Paige for a year fills you with an indescribable emotion and all you really know is you can’t wait to share more and more years with her.
After New Year’s, everything shifts again. You get busy with school and Paige locks back in for basketball. Her team has been undefeated the entire year and they’re on the right track to make it back to the championship, which seems to ignite a fire under her. She spends her time in the gym, practicing and practicing and practicing. You can tell it’s wearing on her. Her texts become sparse and you often find yourself making your way to the gym at night just so you can drive her home. When you ask why she’s burning herself out like this, her response is always a variation of I need to be better or We’re so close – I can’t let the team down but you know her. You know she’s not telling you the complete truth and that kills you.
What had you done so wrong that Paige doesn’t trust you with her feelings anymore? What had you done so wrong that you’ve forced her into locking herself in the gym until her fingers bleed and her feet blister? Perhaps if you were a little more online, you’d understand why. Between the trolls and your mass amounts of homework, you hardly had the time for Instagram. You don’t see the comments under Paige’s posts, claiming you’d just be a distraction in college. You don’t see the comments arguing that Paige’s uncharacteristic performance in a recent game is your fault.
It’s in mid-February that you grow tired of the overthinking and the ache that’s made its home in your chest. It’s nearing midnight but you can’t sleep. You’ve been staring at Paige’s location on the Find My map for nearly four hours now – she’s been on the court ever since practice ended. You tried to give her space. You didn’t want to be overbearing. You know that she’s under pressure but God you just wanted her to confide in you, to feel more like a girlfriend rather than an afterthought. So, you slide on a pair of shoes, tucking your keys into your pocket and you begin the quick walk to the park.
You hear the rhythmic bouncing of the ball before you see Paige. You hear the dribble, the swish of the net, the clang of the rim. The basketball rolls towards you and you pick it up, coming face to face with Paige, whose face is a picture of surprise.
“Hey,” she says softly. You pause to take in her appearance. She’s dressed in a pair of athletic shoes, ball shorts and a loose tank top. She’s soaked in sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead and her eyes a wild mix of exhaustion and pure determination. Your heart constricts in your chest. Why is she doing this to herself? “What are you doing here?”
“It’s late,” you say, quirking an unamused smile. “Almost midnight. Couldn’t really sleep without knowing if my girlfriend was alive or not.”
She stares at you like she’s trying to read your expression. A slow wave of realization rolls over her and she sucks in a deep breath, knowing she’s in trouble. “I’m okay,” she says but you know she’s not. “Just–”
“‘Just trying to get some shots up,’” you interrupt. “‘Just wanna be prepared for the championship.’” Paige’s jaw ticks and she runs a frustrated hand across her jaw. You soften a little, knowing that you’re not the only one with shit going on. That consideration would get you in trouble one day, but you don’t really care right now. “Can we talk? Please?”
“I need to–”
“Paige,” you breathe out, your voice firm despite the way it cracks. You feel the tears prick at your eyes and you can’t help but feel frustrated at yourself for getting emotional. “Please stop running away from me,” you beg.
She looks like she’s about to argue again, although she thinks better of it, nodding her head and taking a seat on the bench where her bag rests. You sit next to hear, placing the basketball on the other side of you. Paige is silent, her hands folded together and her brows drawn in. You speak first. “I’m worried about you.” That draws her attention, confusion and guilt and hurt lining her expression, but you swallow, continuing. “I hardly see you outside of school and you spend every waking moment with a ball in your hand. I know you think that you need to work harder or train harder, but it’s killing you, Paige. You say you’re fine and I wanna believe that but we’ve been dating for a year now. I know you better than that. This is wearing you down and I just don’t understand why you can’t be honest with me about why you’re doing this to yourself.”
The distant chirp of the crickets is all you can hear. Then, she heaves a shuddering sigh. “I’m not good enough for this,” she confesses in a murmur. “That’s what everyone says. I’m overrated. That Coach Auriemma shoulda recruited someone else – someone better, faster, stronger, taller. Basketball is my future but lately it just feels like that’s another thing I have to prove to people who watch me from behind a screen. There’s so many people relying on me, watching me, investing in me and I can’t – I can’t let them down. I can’t lose. I am so fucking afraid of losing that I forget how to win.”
“Paige,” you whisper, your hand reaching out to hold hers. She intertwines your fingers so tightly that it hurts your hand. You don’t care. “You are so much more than what people have to say about you, okay? Isn’t that what you told me?”
She huffs, something akin to amusement, but there’s no enjoyment in her expression. “You didn’t sign up for that,” she retorts. “They were hurting you ‘cause of me.”
“No one signs up to be an online punching bag,” you state. “Least of all you. You don’t deserve that.” She shakes her head, disbelieving. You lean into her, trying to ground her, and she shivers against you. “You know it’s not true, right? There is no one better, or stronger, or faster than you. Maybe taller, but I love you the way you are.” That’s enough to draw a real laugh from her and you squeeze her hand. “Listen to me. Geno didn’t recruit you because of your strength or your speed or whatever else. Geno recruited you because he knew you had the heart of a Husky and because he knew you had what it takes. And – I know it’s hard, but sometimes you’re going to lose. What’s important is picking yourself up afterward and doing it all over again. Win or lose, you’re always gonna have me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know that?”
“I do,” she murmurs. “And I’d do the same for you.” Her words sound more like a grave realization more than a reassurance, but you don’t catch it. You don’t notice the solemn look on her face, the way she looks like she’s coming to terms with something difficult. You don’t notice the determination that reads something like I’m going to win another state championship this year and prove everyone wrong.
“Come home?” you plead. Paige nods slowly, collecting her gear almost robotically, but she presses a kiss to your lips and all you feel an overwhelming amount of relief. Everything will be okay, you tell yourself. This was just a small bump in the road.
Wishful thinking.
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Paige’s state championship gets cancelled due to a global pandemic.
She’d been in such high spirits, excited at the prospect of competing, of taking home the trophy one more time before she went off for college. In March, everything shut down. You were out of school for what you believed to be an extended spring break, but the rest of the year was cancelled entirely. The state championship game was quick to follow. You weren’t expecting Paige to take the news as bad as she did.
Your texts go unanswered, again. You know she’s stuck in her house, which was always a recipe for disaster for her. Paige gets too restless, too impatient, always itching to be moving. You let a day go by of radio silence. Two days. By the third, you’re beginning to lose your mind. You simply weren’t built for online education and your little brother makes focusing impossible. On the fourth day, you send another message to Paige, which ultimately gets left on read.
You show up to her house, tired of being iced out like this, of being treated like you’re something disposable when Paige is upset. Bob lets you in, grinning, and you wave at Drew as you walk upstairs, your footsteps echoing like your heartbeat in your ribcage. You knock on Paige’s door, not getting a response, but you walk in anyways.
Her room is a mess. Clothes are strewn about, one of her comforters lying on the ground. You nearly trip over a loose basketball but your eyes lock on her – lying in bed with an almost catatonic expression on her face. Maybe the aftermath is your fault. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Paige wasn’t in the best headspace. While you were her girlfriend, showing up to her room invited while she’s spiraling would make her meltdown make sense. The ensuing argument is a blur.
Paige is frantic, her hands gesturing wildly as she chokes back sobs, exclaiming confessions of “I’m nothing without that championship,” or “I can’t handle this anymore.” It’s the first time you’ve actually been a little fearful – not of her, but for her. You knew the pressure was getting to her and you just let her deal with it instead of intervening. You were too scared to upset her and now the both of you are paying the price of your insecurity.
You tried to comfort her, but it was like something shifted. She told you to go home. That you were too much right now and that it’s obvious at this point that you’re only going to get hurt if you stay with me. You were willing to ignore her words even if they were like knives to your heart, but what truly destroyed was how she flinched away from your touch like it was burning oil. Go home, she’d said again. I don’t need you here. I can’t keep hurting you like this.
Maybe showing up in the first place was a mistake, but so was leaving her. You walked back to your house with tears in your eyes, wondering how you fucked up so bad.
The next day, Paige shows up at your doorstep with flowers. You couldn’t ignore the hurt in your heart and you didn’t want to forgive her so easily, but it was hard to stay upset with her. No matter how mad you were, you were still in love with her. She apologized, describing how the championship cancellation and the lockdown and the pressure was making her go insane. She acknowledged those wrongs didn’t make a right and she’d spend the rest of her life making it up to you. You didn’t want to fight, or argue, or hurt anymore, so you wrapped her in your arms as the both of you cried. You had a lengthy conversation full of more apologies, and foolishly, you’d thought the worst of it was over. It wouldn’t come until much later.
Miraculously, you still have graduation that month although everyone has to wear masks and you have to sit five feet apart on the football field. You and Paige graduate with honors, you take photos, and your combined families have a huge dinner at the Bueckers’s household. That evening, right before you say grace, your phone lights up with an email from the UConn admissions team.
You got in.
As your families cheer, your eyes are too full of tears to notice the expression of pure dread on Paige's face as you throw your arms around her neck. It feels like everything is finally going your way. You and Paige would be going to college together. It would be easier – it has to be. You didn’t really care about what anyone had to say about the two of you. You had Paige and that was enough for you.
You go to bed that night blissfully and ignorantly happy. Two weeks pass and that’s finally when the worst happens.
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You feel your phone’s vibration before you hear its ringtone.
Groggily, you open your eyes, hands blindly fumbling through your sheets and under your pillow as you try to locate your device. At first, you think it’s your alarm waking you up for class, but remembering the fact that you’ve just graduated two weeks ago hits you like a sack of bricks. There will be no more morning alarms, not until you’re in Storrs, Connecticut and starting the fall semester. You also realize it’s far too dark outside to be morning, so the ringing of your phone can only mean one thing.
“Hello?” you answer without looking at the caller ID, knowing that it was Paige on the other end. You couldn’t think of anyone who would call you at 1:55 in the morning. The fact that Paige is calling you at 1:55 in the morning, however, is a cause for concern. She had an early flight around 8am – summer practices and conditioning were already starting up for the Huskies, as well as other freshman athlete orientations.
“Hey,” Paige says. Her voice is quiet on the other end of the line, tight and weak like she’s fighting to stay composed. Immediately, your heartbeat picks up, fearing for the worst. “I’m at your front door. Can I – can you come down please? I need to talk to you.”
“I’m on my way,” you respond, already throwing your blanket off of your legs and leaving your room. “Are you okay?”
Paige is oddly silent for a few beats. Your socked feet thump lightly against the stairs as you make your way down, your pulse racing like you’d just ran a marathon. Her name falls from your lips in a murmur and she heaves a shuddering sigh from the other end of the phone. “Please,” she begs, “just come outside.”
“Okay,” you promise, and the line goes dead as you unlock your front door, opening it to reveal Paige standing on your front porch. She’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and crocs like she’d made the last minute decision to show up to your house. Her shirt is rumpled, the UConn logo emblazoned on it – one she’d gotten from her official visit however long ago. Her hair is disheveled, too, pulled up into a loose ponytail with loose strands at the front. And her face. You’ve never seen Paige look so miserable before, but what truly shocks you is the guilt clouding her eyes, the frown on her lips. “Hey.” Your voice is quiet, opening the door wide enough for her to come in. Paige merely shakes her head, her hand finding your wrist as she guides you onto the front porch. The door clicks shut behind the two of you. “What’s going on?”
Under the porchlight, her features come into focus. Her expression is downcast, eyes red as if she’d been crying, shoulders high and tense with some monumental weight bearing down on them. You know she has a lot going on – the two of you have talked about as much. She was the number one high school recruit and she’s been committed to one of, if not the best college for women’s basketball. There’s a lot of pressure on her to live up to those expectations, to be the best in the game. You also know Paige hasn’t been the same since the beginning of the year, but she’d assured you that it was just exhaustion and the need to lock in. When you come face to face with her, you’re wracked with a near insurmountable quantity of guilt – why hadn’t you tried harder to get her to open up?
“I’m sorry,” is what Paige says. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your mind conjures up thousands of reasons why Paige could be apologizing to you at two in the fucking morning. “I know this timing is super fucked up and this is such a shitty thing to do to but I can’t get on that plane later and not –” Paige’s words trail off, the sound getting stuck in her throat.
You blink, feeling the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes, the tightness in your chest. Part of you knows exactly where this is going, but the other part of you refuses to consider it. “Not what, Paige?”
Her hands fidget nervously with the hem of her shirt. She throws her head back, suddenly finding the roof of your porch very interesting as she takes a deep breath. “I don’t –” her voice cracks before finally, she meets your eyes, guilt and dread and something that looks strangely like atonement filling her irises. “I don’t think we’re gonna work out,” she says. Your heart all but drops out of your ass and onto the ground, but she keeps rambling in that Paige-esque way that you’ve spent months falling in love with. “We’re not gonna work out in college. I have basketball, and you – you have so many great things ahead of you. You have dreams and aspirations and I can’t…I can’t let you lose sight of those if you stay with me. I love you, so much, but we’re just gonna keep hurting each other if we keep trying to mend something that’s just gonna keep on breaking.”
You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Something ugly twists in your gut, something that feels like a painful mix of despair, desperation, and a deep-rooted anger you’d never realized you’d been harboring. You weren’t an angry person. Sensitive, sure. You were understanding and kind. Never angry. “Why do you get to decide that?” you manage, your voice rough with emotion. Your voice rises in pitch as you continue. “Why do you get to decide that we can’t be fixed? What–”
“We’ve been tryin’ to fix this for months,” Paige points out hoarsely, her throat bobbing as she swallows.
“Because you’re not trying!” you exclaim, arms flying out. Paige flinches, but you don’t stop. “You just – you keep pulling away from me and I don’t know why but I can’t do this on my own, Paige. And when I ask you always say you’re just tired or you’re just busy but I know you. I know you and I know that you weren’t giving us your all and I still trusted you because fuck, I just wanted you! I would never make you choose between me or basketball but I’d like to at least be considered once in a while.”
“It’s not like that,” Paige argues. “I’ve done nothing but consider you–”
“Bullshit.”
Her face falls. “See?” she murmurs, laughing a little despite the hurt in her expression. “We’d never work out in college. We can’t even do this right.”
You seethe. “Because you’re trying to break up with me when we can fix this.”
“I’m trying to break up with you because I can’t fucking protect you!” Paige cries. Her words hit you like a truck and you clamp your mouth shut as she wipes her eyes. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I can’t protect you when we’re both at UConn. Do you even know what they’re saying online? They’re saying I can’t hoop because I’m too busy playing house with my girlfriend. They’re saying that her girlfriend is trying to leech off of her success, that you’re ruining my life, that my girlfriend needs to leave me alone. Everyday I’ve worked harder to get stronger, faster, better, just so there wouldn’t be anything about me they could use to hurt you but they always find something to say. I can’t protect you from that when you’re with me. I can’t let them ruin your life because you love me. You have so much ahead of you and they’ll tear you down. I can’t bear that.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” you say, but even you know that’s a lie. You take in the look on Paige’s face, the commiseration, the resolution. Your anger melts away into sheer desperation when you begin to fully realize the gravity of your situation. It feels like your entire life is slipping from your fingertips and you’re running out of time to do something about it. “Paige…” You hate the way she flinches at her name.
“Please,” she begs again. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Just let me do this for us and we can both try to be happy.”
You don’t mention how there won’t be an us if you let her walk away now, but you do step forward, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as you plead, “Don’t do this to us.” A tear slips down your cheek and Paige shudders as she wipes it away with the pad of her thumb, an inexplicable amount of guilt in her eyes. “We can fix this, okay? I swear. I promise you won’t even know I’m there. I won’t say anything and I’ll watch your games online – whatever it takes, I’ll do it, Paige; just don’t fucking do this to us.”
She murmurs your name, her face falling as she brushes your hair out of your face, but you’re shaking your head, pressing on. “Just give us some time. Please. We can work this out. I don’t want anything but you. And…and – last year, you said nothing else mattered, right? What everyone else thought, what the media thought. We can be private again, whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
“I can’t ask that of you,” she whispers, voice broken. “You don’t deserve to be hidden away. I can’t do that to you. It’ll kill us before we even got a chance otherwise.”
Your lip wobbles as you say, “You’re killing us now, Paige.”
She nods, a tear of her own falling, and she wipes it away before you can even raise your hand. “I know. But at least it’s on our terms and not theirs.” You shake your head, fingers tightening in her shirt, and Paige crumbles. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling her into your chest as your body heaves with sobs, your tears soaking her shirt. You can hear the tremble in her voice as she fights for her composure. “I’m sorry. Being with me will just hurt you more. I can’t put you through that,” she chokes out. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like you were the only one trying. I thought it would change things but it didn’t. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t save us.”
The irony makes you ache – Paige killing you just to save you. Deep down, you know she’s right. Your social media have been private for months now, but there’s nothing you wouldn’t do just so you could keep Paige. But right now? All you’re truly able to process is the heartbreak, the way the criss-crossing bandages fall off, the way the stitches and the sutures come undone, revealing a festering, open wound that after all this time, you’ve never been able to repair. No matter what, it always comes back to this – your heart on the ground, stomped out and bleeding and ruined. You just never thought Paige would be the one to crush it under her heel.
You’re tender-hearted. You always have been.  That’s why your friends told you to stay far, far away from Paige. You tried, you honestly did – but Paige is magnetic, and she loves you, and you were just a little too weak to say no. Now you’re faced with the ugly realization that maybe you should have listened, that when they told you ‘She’s leaving Minnesota and she’s not going to look back’, they were right. Despite it all, you’re naive enough to say that you’d go through with it all over again. You love Paige. You would give up a lot of things in the world if only you could keep her, but her decision is made and it’s time for you to make yours.
That’s why you forgive her. You sniffle, trying your best to compose yourself as her hand rubs soothing, apologetic circles on your back. “It’s okay,” you manage, your voice impossibly soft and broken down.
“It’s not,” Paige murmurs, her voice cracking.
“It will have to be.” You feel her nod at that, her arms tightening a little, like she’s trying to savor this last moment with you before it’s gone forever. You do, too, pressing your head against her chest, listening to the rhythmic thump of her heart that you’ve spent hours memorizing the cadence of. You’ve spent so many months of your life learning everything there was to know about Paige Bueckers – her favorite color, her dreams, the parts of her that she keeps hidden. You wish you didn’t know what she looked like when she was walking away but you should have known that you and her were doomed by time from the very beginning.
You don’t want to let her go. Eventually, you have to, and looking at her face makes you want to cry and beg all over again. Her hands find your cheeks as she kisses you one last time. You can taste the salt on her lips, hear her shuddering breath, feel her forehead as it presses against yours gently. You know this kiss is more of a goodbye than it is a gesture of affection. That’s enough to make the ache in your chest return tenfold.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again. It doesn’t do anything to fix what’s broken. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you promise. You hate those words because you know they’re true – Paige has just broken your heart on your front doorstep and despite it all, you still love her and you always will.
She releases you, her hands trailing down your arms, trying to commit you to memory. Then, her hands leave your skin entirely and she takes a step back. “Guess this is goodbye.”
You bury your hands in your pockets, knowing that if you don’t do something with them, you’ll try fighting for her again. “Guess it is.”
She stares at you for a long while before nodding, her final goodbye a soft murmur under her breath. You watch her go as she walks down the sidewalk, her figure illuminated by the streetlights. It feels strangely like reaching for a light, something you’ll never be able to physically grasp. It’s like watching your entire future crumble in the blink of an eye, like reminding yourself that some dreams are too costly and that sometimes, desire is impossible. Right person, wrong time.
Your lip trembles as you walk back inside, locking the door behind you. When you turn to head back upstairs and go back to bed, hoping that this is all some kind of fucked up fever dream, you find your mother waiting for you, worry etched on her face. That’s when you crumble again, sagging into her confused arms and sobbing.
“She’s gone,” you manage to get out in between heaving sobs. Your mom understands instantly, hushing you and smoothing out your hair, rocking you back and forth as you cry. You’ve hurt a lot, but never like this. You want this terrible feeling to go away but you know this is a loss that’s going to stick with you for a while.
Later that night, when you’re sure you’ve cried all you could, you lie in bed bundled in Paige’s hoodie despite the heat. On the UConn application portal, you only hesitate a little bit before you click on the Cancel Enrollment button. Then, you navigate over to the University of Minnesota application portal, hesitating a lot longer before clicking on the Confirm Enrollment button. You power your phone off entirely, unwilling to spend the night staring at the picture of you and Paige on your home screen. All you feel is a devastating emptiness and this time, you’re fully on your own now and there’s no one else to help you pick up the pieces.
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FRESHMAN & SOPHOMORE YEAR – 2020-2022
To no one’s surprise, you absolutely hate the University of Minnesota. There were a lot of reasons why it wasn’t your first choice. The program it offered for your degree wasn’t the greatest. You hated the dorms. You hated campus life, too. UConn had a lot of things that UMN didn’t. A better sports scene, better programs, your ex-girlfriend who you’re still hung up on, everything. You knew you’d be just as miserable at UConn if you’d gone there, too. Paige was everywhere. The freshman phenom who could truly do it all. The work she’d put into becoming better had paid off and it led to her having an electrifying first season.
Even though your heart ached, you couldn’t help but be proud of her. She was doing everything she said she was gonna do. She’s breaking records and making a name for herself – you’d just wished you could be there for it.
It’s almost pathetic how you’re unable to get over her. You stay off of social media but the knowledge that she’s just one text message away fucks with your brain more than you’d like to admit. It reminds you all too much of Gatsby and Daisy and that stupid project the two of you partnered for in AP Lit, only you’re some weird inverted version of them. Paige is the one with the riches, the grandeur, the mansion, yet she’s the one with the green light on the dock. You spend hours gazing out and hoping that she’s looking back at you, too. You’re the one who wishes you could go back into the past where you were still together, even though Gatsby’s story taught you that you’re only yearning for something that doesn’t exist anymore. You’re Gatsby, unable to move on, unable to fully come to terms with the fact that your dream wasn’t truly attainable, that you desired for too much and you couldn’t reach it.
There’s a scary thought in the back of your head that sounds like you just weren’t worth it. Gatsby’s story also taught you that Daisy’s feelings for Gatsby weren’t worth losing her social status, her life of comfort. Were you not worth it? You would have gone to hell and stayed if only to keep Paige, but perhaps that’s just something you need to work on.
So, you do. You find yourself a therapist in Minneapolis. You’ve been unhappy for a while now, but it’s also become increasingly obvious that you need to work on setting boundaries and unlearning emotional attachments that have done nothing but hurt you. You fall in love (romantically or platonically) far too quick, too easily, and you’re too forgiving. You were told from the start that you should be taking care of your heart and you suppose it’s better late than never.
Your therapist is an older lady who has seen some shit and been through some shit. She’s blunt and honest and exactly what you need. She tells you that you can protect yourself and still give to the world, to others. She also tells you that if you’re so unhappy at UMN that you should probably transfer. You put that piece of advice on the backburner because you’ve barely been here for a semester. Maybe you’ll have more fun and make new friends come spring. Maybe everything will turn around if you give yourself the chance to grow and be happy without constantly looking over your shoulder, hoping to see familiar blue eyes and that teasing smile you’ve all but memorized.
(Spoiler: you don’t.)
The spring semester of your freshman year rolls around and you’re honestly burned out. Your first semester was rough and you had a straight C average, which was quite the culture shock after being a straight A student throughout highschool. You try to show up to all of your classes, but registering for an 8am was honestly the worst decision of your life. You miss a few, your grades remain horribly consistent (more C’s!), and you can’t hold onto anymore friends, not for lack of trying. Your clubs fall through and nothing feels right about UMN. Sure, you’re close to home and you visit your parents twice a month, but UMN isn’t home at all. You know that there’s a piece of you in Connecticut somewhere.
Therapy is helping a lot, though. Fixing yourself emotionally is really taxing, but you’re making progress, and that’s good enough for now. Although it takes a couple of weeks, you manage to make a friend in one of your classes and you study together often. Her name is Krista. She’s a pre-med biology major and quite possibly the smartest person you’ve met in your semester and a half at UMN. She introduces you to some of her friends, too – an assortment of med-school hopefuls and the lone English major. Slowly but surely, UMN doesn’t feel as lonely and your grades start improving.
Eventually, the heartbreak starts to ache a little less. Seeing Paige’s picture plastered everywhere doesn’t hurt as much. You tune in for some of the UConn games during March Madness to cheer her on. It will probably take you a long time to be fully over Paige, but you’re at least mostly over the hurt. You reach out to a couple of your mutual friends just to see how she’s doing. Maybe you’ll regret that decision one day. Maybe not. Hearing that she’s doing okay settles your heart some. That turns into weekly check-ins. It’s something.
You and Paige were friends for a long time before you made it official. You’re not mourning the loss of a relationship, but you’re mourning your best friend, too. Nobody ever told you how devastating it was to go from sharing everything with someone to watching their life in pictures. Part of you wonders if she’s doing the same as you, if she even thinks about you like that, if she thinks about you at all or if she regrets the decision she’d made.
Your first year at UMN is nothing special. There’s a nagging voice in the back of your head that urges you to transfer. If you’re not fully happy after a year, then you’re not going to be happy this year. You think about the friends you’ve made – Krista and the others. Something about them just isn’t right. You may never have the vocabulary to explain it, but no matter how nice and welcoming they are, you still feel like an outsider looking in. Things aren’t all that bad, you tell yourself. Your grades are better and honestly, maybe this is just life. You aren’t always going to have a bunch of best friends. So, you decide to stay at UMN.
(How many bad decisions can one person possibly make before you start getting concerned?)
Sophomore year isn’t any better. It doesn’t suck, but you’re still unhappy. You’re surviving, not living. You start going home every weekend rather than the twice a month schedule you’d originally planned on. Being back in Hopkins reminds you of simpler times. It reminds you of late night Dairy Queen runs, of chatting in an empty parking lot, of that time Paige accidentally honked the horn in her stepmom’s SUV when she tried to pull you onto her lap. Hopkins reminds you of your junior prom, where you and Paige slow danced to Taylor Swift outside the gym, where you told her that you loved her for the first time and she told you that she did, too. Hopkins reminds you of happiness.
In December that year, your mutual friend — Amaya Battle — informs you that Paige fractured her tibial plateau and tore her lateral meniscus. None of that sounded good, but you felt like shit once Krista explained what that all meant. That injury would bench Paige for a couple of months. Despite the time, you still knew Paige well enough to know that she’s not happy about that. You open a long abandoned text thread with her, your last message reading happy birthday! and hers reading Thank you, and begin to draft out a new message. Saying that you’re sorry doesn’t feel like enough, but anything else feels like too much. You settle on simply expressing your condolences and you let her know that you’re praying for her. You’re not surprised when you don’t receive anything more than another “Thank you” in return.
Spring semester is long and uneventful. You still tune in for some of Paige’s games, but once finals are said and done and you’re not feeling any differently, you know that it’s time to move on. You apply as a transfer student for UConn.
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JUNIOR YEAR – 2022-2023
You get accepted into UConn. Reading the Welcome to UConn Nation email feels as good as it did the first time you opened it surrounded by your family. It feels like coming home all over again. The break in between semesters feels painfully short and far too long at the same time, but before you know it, you’re moving into your dorm on campus, laughing along with your new roommate Livya like you’ve been friends forever. She helps you get settled in. Then she shows you around campus, pointing out all of the best study spots and the best dining halls. You meet up with a couple of her friends for lunch and it’s like everything just clicks. You know in your heart that this is where you’re supposed to be.
The news, however, comes to you in the form of an ESPN headline rather than a text from your mutual friend. Paige had torn her ACL nearly a week ago playing a game of pick up. Your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t help but feel terrible for Paige. This was supposed to be her healthy season back after her previous injury in December, but here she is on the bench again, healing from an injury she didn’t deserve to get. You feel the strangest sense of deja vu when you message Paige again, extending your condolences, but what you’re not expecting is the phone call from her that comes a few seconds later.
It rings once and all you can do is stare at it, jaw on the ground. On the second ring, your thumb hovers over the answer button. And on the third ring, you commit to it, bringing your phone to your ear. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest as you greet Paige. “Hey.”
Her voice is soft when she responds. “Hey.” It’s a little rough around the edges, mature, but there’s a lingering tenseness to it like she’s trying to keep herself together.
“Wasn’t expecting you to call,” you admit.
“Me neither,” she agrees.
You sit in silence for a few moments before you shift, clearing your throat. There’s so many things you want to say to her, but you know this moment is too fragile, too new. You know you’re not talking to the same girl you once knew. She’s changed. She’s older and she’s wiser and she knows what she wants now. You don’t know how to say what you want to say, although it’s evident that Paige is a little lost, too. “How, um…how are you?” you say finally.
The noise she makes on the other line sounds a little amused. “Well,” she murmurs. “At least it’s not both knees, right?”
You can’t help the choked laugh that draws from you. “God,” you say. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at that.”
“Nah, s’okay,” she promises. You can hear the slight smile in her voice. “I missed that.”
Your heart thumps against your ribcage. “Missed what?” you ask, but you know what she means.
“Your laugh,” she confirms. “Still the same as it once was.”
You hum. “We’re not the same,” you say softly. “We’ve grown up.”
“Have we?” she asks. You swallow. “We’re older. Learned a lot. Doesn’t mean we’ve changed. Just evolved.”
“Is that not the same thing?”
“Pikachu evolves into Raichu but he’s still Pikachu, isn’t he?”
Despite yourself, you grin. “And you’re still an idiot.”
That makes her laugh. “C’mon,” she drawls. “I got a bum knee and you’re making fun of me?”
“Some things never change.”
“They don’t,” Paige agrees. “Heard you transferred to UConn?”
“I did. UMN wasn’t right for me. It didn’t feel like home.”
“It does here?”
You don’t hesitate when you respond. “Yeah. It does.”
The line falls silent again. You can hear the sound of Paige breathing on the other end. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says finally. Your grin melts into something a little more tender. “Do you wanna come to my dorm? We can catch up.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“Probably not,” she concedes. “But I’m injured and I just spent two years missin’ you and I wanna see you.”
You should feel embarrassed at how little it takes to convince you. Before you realize the words coming out of your mouth, you’re saying, “Send me the address.” She does. Paige’s dorm isn’t too far away from yours. “I’ll be there in ten.”
When you do arrive, the girl who answers the door is not Paige. It’s Azzi Fudd. She knows you by name, offering you a gentle smile and pointing you down the hall to where Paige’s room is. You thank her, your heart caught in your throat, and you make your way through the apartment. You knock and you enter.
Paige glances up immediately as you walk in, her face softening immediately. She’s sprawled out across her bed, her knee secured in a heavy brace and propped up in a pillow. She’s wearing a loose pair of shorts and a long-sleeved UConn shirt. The first thing you notice is how different she is. Her time on the court and in the gym has treated her well. Her shoulders fill out her sweatshirt, muscles taut against the fabric. She’s bulked up and she scraped her old ponytail for a slick back bun, although the ‘slick back’ part is messy, strands flying haphazardly. Her eyes are disarmingly blue, not like that’s changed from the last time you saw her, and her smile is just as you remember. It’s enough to soften you instantly.
“Hey,” she says as you close the door behind you.
“Hi, P,” you murmur. Her face shifts, taking you in, and you know she’s cataloging everything that’s different about you, too. You wear your hair in a new style and the way you carry yourself is unlike the way you carried yourself in high school. It’s not confidence, it’s surety, more you. Behind the curiosity, you can see the lingering guilt, the realization that she broke your heart two years ago yet you still dropped everything to come and see her because she’s injured. You glance around the room, breaking your eye contact, scanning the basketball posters, album covers, and pictures of her and her teammates strewn about. Her comforter is purple, which makes you smile. Some things truly never change. “Nice room.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you fight a wince because of how awkward it sounds.
“Clean, right?” she jokes, drawing a short laugh from you – you’d always teased her for being messy, often having to motivate her to pick up her room. Her dorm is clean, but obviously lived-in as evidenced by the jacket slung over the arm of a gaming chair and a water bottle or two on the nightstand and the desk. “Nice hoodie.”
It’s only then that you glance down and your face flushes when you realize what you’re wearing. HOPKINS is emblazoned on the front, the number 1 below it. You don’t need to turn it around to know you have BUECKERS stitched on the back. Your eyes find her face again, noting that she’s not upset about it. She’s a little amused, if anything, although there’s something softer in her expression. You shrug a little. “Wasn’t brave enough to get rid of it.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Her voice is a soft murmur. You meet her eyes, sharing a soft smile. Then, she clears her throat, shifting, and she nods to the spot next to her. “Come talk?” she requests.
You open your mouth, ready to decline. You know that if you fell into these patterns with Paige again, then you’d truly never get over her. Part of you wonders if you want to get over her in the first place, but you know you can���t put yourself through this again if she’s not in it for the long haul. “I don’t think–”
“Please?” she asks softly, her voice catching in her throat. “I just…don’t wanna be alone right now.”
You’re moving before she even finishes her sentence. She moves the blankets for you as you kick off your shoes, sliding in next to her like it’s second nature. When you do, you’re enveloped by her, the scent of her cologne, her body wash, that same brand of shampoo she’s been using since she was seventeen. You can feel the warmth of her body so close to yours and your breath hitches. You can hear the stutter in her breathing, too, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s missed you in the way you’ve missed her. Her fingers twitch like she’s fighting the urge to hold you, like she’s reminding herself she doesn’t really have that right anymore.
“So…” she starts. “Why’d you transfer? Really?”
You sigh. “I couldn’t really find my place at UMN. I struggled in my classes for a while and I had so much trouble making friends. I found a group, but it always felt like I was a plus one. My psychologist and my parents told me to transfer. Even Drew told me to transfer.”
She cracks a small, surprised smile. “You talk to Drew?”
“Our parents still talk, you know,” you say, nudging her, listening to her laughter. “Plus, Drew and my brother are like best friends.” You pause for a moment, twisting the ring on your finger, and hesitantly, you admit, “Drew told me I should transfer to UConn specifically. For you.”
“For me?” Her voice is pitched, her expression unreadable, and you nod.
“Yeah. He said we were happier before the break up.”
Paige chuckles, rolling her eyes. “He’s such a little shit.”
“I wonder where he gets it from?” At that, Paige half-heartedly shoves you, but there’s no force or malice behind it as you laugh. “But I didn’t transfer for you.”
“Of course not.” Her expression betrays her feigned nonchalance, like she thinks you’re full of shit.
“I didn’t!”
“Okay,” she says insufferably and you shake your head. “I, uh…I’m sorry for how I ended things.”
Your smile drops instantly, features softening. “Paige,” you murmur, but she ignores your words entirely. 
“I’ve thought about it for two years,” she admits, “and every day I wish I could go back in time and undo it. I thought I was protecting you but all I did was hurt us both. In the end, it didn’t even change shit. That’s the fucked up part.” She scoffs a little. “And here we are. I broke your heart yet you text me on my birthday, reach out when I injure myself, drop everything to come see me ‘cause my knee’s fucked? Why?”
You swallow thickly, not really needing to think about your response. “It’s you,” you whisper. You hear her breath catch, see the tears welling up in her eyes again. It’s always gonna be you, is the part that goes unsaid, but you wonder if Paige understands it all the same. “I would watch your games sometimes,” you confess. Paige makes a noise that sounds like it’s in between a sigh and a whimper, like hearing you speak is hurting her. You continue anyways, needing to get it off of your chest. “I’d watch your games and I’d cheer you on and wonder what it would be like if you didn’t change your mind, if I was sitting courtside like we’d always talked about. I’d probably be wearing this fucking hoodie or maybe you’d give me some of your UConn gear. Every week, I would talk to Amaya Battle just to ask how you were, and –” Paige interrupts you with a soft whisper of your name, but you shake your head, feeling the long restrained tears drop. “I missed you and all I wanted was you. You were so close yet so far – impossible and out of reach.”
“Not impossible,” she says firmly, her voice rough with tears. Instantly, you’re transported back nearly four years ago when she’d uttered words not too dissimilar. I don’t think it’s out of reach. Not for you. Not for us. “Never impossible. Not you, not me, not us.”
A tear slips down your cheek and she wipes it away. The brush of her finger against your skin, no matter how small, is pure electricity in your veins and you’re breathless for an entirely different reason now. “Aren’t we?” you ask, your eyes on hers. They’re alarmingly blue, brightened by the pool of tears that’s found home in them. You can’t help the way your feelings come rushing back. You were always going to be in love with Paige Bueckers. That’s not a feeling that goes away overnight or even two years after breaking up with her. She’s ruined you for anyone else and you can’t even be mad about it. “We’re different. You’re different.”
“Not different,” she argues, desperation lacing her tone as she squeezes your hands in between her own. “Evolved. I’m still me.”
“That’s the scary part,” you say. It’s scary because you know you’ll never be able to say no to her. You love her too much for that, and deep down, you also there’s nothing more right than you and her.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Her thumb finds your cheek again, clearing the wetness, and your lip trembles when you look at her.  Paige’s expression is unguarded, a clear promise reflected in her eyes. If this all went to shit, you wouldn’t have the energy or the resources to pick your heart up again, but what are you if not brave despite the ache? What if it’s different this time, if you and Paige have grown, not changed, and you’re better for each other? You know better now than to make those same mistakes. You know Paige well enough to know she means what she says. So maybe you’re a fool, or you’re naive, or too trusting for your own good, but you can’t help but believe Paige. “A lot of people have hurt you. I was one of them,” she continues, uncomfortably vulnerable as she swallows. “I will never forgive myself for that but somehow, you did. Whatever it takes, I’ll prove to you that you didn’t make the wrong choice like I did. Give me time and the chance and I’ll show you. I swear.”
Your heart knows your decision long before your brain has made it. That’s just how you work. You nod at her, watching utter relief and gratitude seep through her features, and honestly, when you look back at it, you’re not completely sure who leans in first. But what you do know is that you’re tangling your fingers in her sweatshirt, pulling her impossibly close as you initiate the kiss, something intense and deep and desperate and everything you’ve been wishing for over the past two years. You know it’s a bad idea, doing this out of order, yet you can’t bring yourself to care because Paige shudders against your lips, her hands finding your hips and dragging you impossibly closer. You’re cautious of her knee, trying to minimize the amount of space between your bodies, and you loop your arms around her neck when you pull away to trail your lips down her jaw, the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, granting you more space, and you don’t sober up until you feel one of her tears fall against your cheek.
You pull away from her immediately, feeling as though you’d been submerged in an ice bath. Paige must not register that she’s crying because she chases after you with a noise of dissatisfaction, her hands pressing into your sides. You push her away gently, smiling despite yourself, brushing her tears away with your knuckle. “Maybe we should, um… not make out when we’re crying and emotional?” you suggest.
Paige clears her throat, leaning away from you with great difficulty. “Yeah,” she agrees quickly. “Probably for the best.” You can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes from your mouth. Paige’s lips quirk up, a flicker of hope in her eyes. “We’re okay?” she asks, a little hesitant.
“We will be,” you assure her, not missing the way her face lights up. “But we should probably…”
“Slow down?” Paige finishes.
You nod. “Yeah. Be friends first. We have a lot to catch up on.”
“I can work with that,” she murmurs, her words a direct echo of the first promise she’d ever made to you.
You smile, your heart feeling lighter than it has in years. You breathe a little easier knowing that you’re still you and Paige is still Paige – you’re not the same, but you’re something a little better, more improved, and you have the knowledge to take better care of each other’s hearts this time around. You and Paige have grown up and matured. You lost your way for a while but as you lay in bed next to her like no time has passed at all, you know somewhere deep inside of your body that this is where you’re truly meant to be.
(You and Paige do commit to slow. You know each other like the back of your hands and the love is still there, but you’re determined to do this right this time. So, you keep things friendly, strengthening the connection between the two of you – she introduces you to her teammates, helps you study while she’s out for the season. In turn, you help her with her rehab and you motivate her on the days that feel more bleak.
When the both of you go back home for Thanksgiving break, both of your families are ecstatic to see that you’re “back together” and you don’t think anyone believes the two of you when you say you’re just taking it slow for now. Your little brothers tease you, your dads share knowing glances, and your mothers smile like they know exactly where this is going.
However, when the two of you return to Minnesota for winter break, Paige takes you to the park that the two of you used to spend your time at, leading you to the swings. You talk about anything and everything and nothing, content to just enjoy the moment, but when Paige asks you to be her girlfriend officially – again, but second time’s the charm, right? – you truly have no choice but to say no, kissing her gently as the Minnesotan snow falls around the two of you.
You’re home now.)
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thegreatimpersonator · 3 months ago
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Heeey, if u dont wanna answer this that's fine! But just wondering what's Travis done? (Im not a fan or anything lol, legit curious). Now that i think about it, i think he's irl friends (like, outside of work) with that mahommes guy whose brother... well, trigerring topic but ye his brother's a piece of shit and that guy's wife im pretty sure defended the brother + is a trumpie💀. But i dont follow them/usamerican football so ive just heard about these things casually. I think there were also some weird tweets from years back? Guess i answered my own question lol. Wild the kcc also have that "women should stay home" at a uni graduation speech guy...
welcome to the materpost.
im making this so i can always have something to refer back to when people ask, and this isnt gonna include personal opinions as facts (like how i just find him very attention-seeking and annoying, that's just personal opinion) but it will cover all the main terrible things he's done as well as the bad stuff people he (and now taylor) voluntarily choose to associate with.
don't know where to begin so i'll just start from where i remember
people found his old tweets where he was ableist (making fun of autism and saying the r slur), fatphobic towards women, misogynistic and homophobic.
him along with the chiefs decided to visit trump at the white house in 2020, after many teams declined bc they didnt want to publicly associate with a fascist, but travis was down!
he then also got caught liking an instagram post about trump
he has said recently he would be going to visit trump again in the white house if they win the superbowl.
when asked about how he felt about Trump going to the Super Bowl and playing in front of him, he said it was “pretty cool” and “an honor”.
he also made a r*pe joke, (first part in the clip) he was asked what word turned him on and he said when women say 'no' and then laughed and he was "kidding".
in the second part of that same clip in the previous bullet point, he's also xenophobic! on a podcast he said "if you dont speak english, then what are you doing here (in america)" and then proceeded to laugh when the host says he tells them the wrong directions on purpose.
he also 'jokingly' (no one laughed) called women "breeders" when discussing what women he was interested in.
he, alongside the chiefs, stood in solidarity with Israel by doing a ‘moment of silence’ before a game. i know people are gonna try and find excuses for him by saying ‘he was just doing what his team did, what was he supposed to do, etc’ nonsense, but that implies he was forced and had no choice; which he did. he also could have spoken up about the genocide/palestine afterwards but he stood in solidarity with Israel and has silent ever since.
he has a history of violent temper tantrums, and no him being a football player isnt an excuse. men using violence to get through their emotions isnt something to be normalized. he has had multiple instances of extreme aggression, including a screaming match with his couch at last years Superbowl, screamed at a ref and threw his helmet, also punching his own teammate during practice, and punching opposing players during games.
he's best friends with machine gun kelly, they grew up together and have remained close to this day. MGK has been openly racist, misogynistic, has said he sees nothing wrong with sleeping with minors, etc.
he defended his teammate, harrison butker (who was the guy who gave the viral problematic commencement speech, saying "women should be most excited about their marriage and the children they will bring into this world" and "things like abortion, IVF, surrogacy, euthanasia, as well as a growing support for degenerate cultural values and media all stem from pervasiveness of disorder,” and called Pride Month “the deadly sin sort of pride,” and specifically criticized the LGBTQ community, which he claimed promotes “dangerous gender ideologies.").... anyway travis defended THAT guy, saying he cherishes him as a teammate and said "he is every bit of a great person and a great teammate." and said harrison treats everyone with "nothing but respect and kindness, we’re not always going to agree … but I understand the person that he is and he’s trying to do whatever he can to lead people in the right direction." Travis then said 'everyone has different opinions and that's what's great about this country'. he flat out said hating gay people and women are what make this country great.  
travis is also besties with known racist, morgan wallen (who got caught saying the n word, promised to donate money to charities fighting for racial justice and then just didnt), and joined him on stage last august. oh and travis was also wearing a harrison butker jersey during the concert... supporting him once again, just 3 months after his bigoted speech.
travis is also besties with the mahomes, now lets talk about him and taylors new besties they voluntarily love spending time with.
the main issue isnt really patrick mahomes (another player on the chiefs), it's brittany (his wife) and jackson (his brother)
jackson sexually assaulted a woman at a restaurant by grabbing her and forcibly kissing her. she reported the assault and he reportedly tried to bribe her into shutting up, but then she faced such harassment from his fans that the restaurant shut down and the case was dismissed despite video evidence of it happening.
brittany defended jackson and became a vocal assault apologist by saying "he is a human just trying to live his life and find his way and until you walk a day in his shoes (which no one ever will) you have no right to say shit about him".
last summer, brittany got called out for liking a post by trump where he outlined his plans for being president in 2025, including starting the largest deportation operation in history, zionist propaganda, and transphobic rhetoric about not wanting trans women in women's sports. she then defended it and doubled down vocalizing her supprt for trump.
brittany being transphobic about not wanting trans women in women's sports is deeply concerning due to the fact she is the co-owner of Kansas City Current, a team in the American professional top-division National Women's Soccer League.
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barblaz-arts · 4 months ago
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I know you've been making a lot of art of it lately, but out of curiosity, what's your opinion on Hazbin Hotel in general? I'm referring to both the show and the fandom here. Just curious.
God. What a loaded question. Are you ready? Bcuz I'm fresh from Vaggie discourse on twitter and I have a lot to say.
I think that Hazbin Hotel seems worse than it is for people who know the fandom but haven't actually watched the show. Honestly, I think it's a fine show. It isnt super incredible and I'm not gonna sing praises about how deep and thought provoking it is or whether it's an artistic masterpiece. It never tried to be that and was never advertised as such(to my knowledge) anyway. I just had a lot of fun. Like, yeh sure the cussing in the dialogue can be a bit much, especially in ep 1, but there are different writers in other episodes, so it gets better. It can be super crude yeh, but I grew up watching things like the Scary Movie franchise and other dumb american movies (yes, i was too young for them. yes, i still watched them), so it's pretty tolerable for me. It also helps that Charlie is the main character. That's one of the main reasons why I watch HH but dont watch HB. It's probably a fun show, but without a sweetheart like Charlie to balance things out, I'd just get tired of the sex jokes and mean jokes.
Compared to my last hyperfixation, I think I have more things to love about Hazbin Hotel, believe it or not. With Netflix's Wednesday, I had already been an Addams Family fan for a while and hung on because I loved the family and eventually Enid and wenclair. The show itself was honestly meh... so far! I'll give season 2 another shot.
But with Hazbin Hotel, it catered to a lot of things I've always loved. Found family with a bunch of misfits? We didnt get to see it much bcuz of the fuckass 8-ep per season format we have nowadays, but its fine its there! The juxtaposition of a kind hearted woman in a harsh world? Love love Charlie for that, I watched the show in the first place because of her. A canon lesbian lover with a "fuck the world cuz my world is you" type of love for the protag? Fuck yes. How very Pearl-from-Steven-Universe of Vaggie. And the music? The music is soooo good. I didn't know the songwriter prior to watching, so I was nervous about the songs, but I knew most of the theater actors they cast(still cant believe Jeremy fucking Jordan is Lucifer) so I figured even if the songs are mid, at least the performances would be topnotch. And they were! But the songs were a pleasant surprise. Sam Haft did real damn well. I still listen to the soundtrack to this day.
The fandom, however, is probably the worst one I've been in. And I've been in a lot in my big age... Just... lacking media literacy, and based on the replies I get when I say something on twitter, it seems a lot of them lack reading comprehension and just plain emotional intelligence too.
There's a lot of criticisms about this show that I honestly think is fair. Pacing, character design, overuse of the F word, whatever. But in my opinion, claiming that Hazbin is a male-centered show is an unfair misconception that is mostly the fault of the fandom.
Bcuz, sure, the male characters are uber popular. Alastor, Vox, Lucifer, Angel Dust and the many web of ships they're involved in went trending every few business days. But come on now. How often does a fandom even have their main protag as the most talked about character? This has been going on for ages. Just because the boys have the most merch and fics and fanarts and thirsty fans doesn't mean that they had the spotlight for most of the show itself. It only meant that they were the ones the viewers paid attention to, in a fandom filled with people drooling over the next tumblr sexyman and toxic yaoi ship of the month.
But if you actually look back at what the show gave us so far, the boys didnt outshine the women. I actually think the women got to do more and be more as characters than the men did. Let's take a look at the male characters.
Alastor was not in all the episodes. In fact, he was MIA in two out of the eight episodes. In all the episodes he was in, he was a mere side character. His purpose in season one was to stir the pot and be the intriguing mystery that occasionally quips. But he was not the one whose deeper thoughts were explored and whose character and goals was challenged THROUGHOUT the show, merely alluded to at the VERY END of the season, which is hardly him taking the spotlight away from Charlie. If you merely looked at the fan content of him, you'd think he were a father figure to Charlie(or a love interest. whatever) and that he has developed a soft spot for the Hazbins deep down in that cannibal heart of his. But if you pay attention to the show, he never had even a meaningful one on one conversation with the Hazbins. The only time that happened is when (a)he threatened Husk's life (b)when he constantly mocked Charlie while she was down in the dumps and used this as an opportunity to manipulate her and (b)when he told Niffty watching the crew sure can "make one sentimental", even tho he had taken no prior opportunity to bond with them! There's no foundation for all the fandom's claims that he could be redeemed bcuz of a budding fondness for the group, but that's all you see of his fan content(aside from the horniness). I dont have any problem with his lack of an actual relationship with the Hazbins bcuz I believe redemption for him is not what the show is going for, but it's frustrating to see people interpreting it that way BUT not seeing how horridly developed it would be if that is the case, meanwhile they turn around and say that Vaggie and Chaggie as a ship "had terrible development".
Then we have the male Vees. Vox was only ever in episode two, and was essentially a youtube reactor in episode 8. He was in ep 4 but had no speaking lines. We only know of his obsession with Alastor and the toxic relationship he has with Val. Val, meanwhile, is merely shown as the sex obsessed fiend behind Hell's sex industry and Angel's abuse. They did what they needed to do with minimal screentime. It was fine, but that's IT. Despite what little CANON gave so far, you have hundreds of people writing essays and fics and fanarts about them being complicated characters. But to reiterate, this does not mean that they are bad characters or that they don't deserve the fame. But to say that these men are better written within canon than the women is such a bold statement when most of the depth they knew of these characters were lore drops given before the show and their own speculations as they dug into the shallow soil of what the show has so far.
I'm not gonna speak about Angel and Lucifer. Because I think they were characters who were legitimately well-explored so far.
Now onto the women. So many of them were given the opportunity to have their characters challenged or given the agency to push characters and the plot forward or give you intrigue about implications of what's to come for the characters and the plot. I've talked a lot about Charlie and Vaggie. So let me talk about the other, terribly underrated women of Hazbin.
Velvette and Carmilla were the ones who advanced the subplot in the war against Heaven. Because of Carmilla's love for her family despite being a demon, an angel was killed. It gave Heaven the excuse to escalate things, but it also gave Charlie hope later on in the season that they're not powerless. Carmilla was also the first demon shown to make selfless actions that is contrary to what is expected of demons, making it proof that Charlie's belief that demons deserve a second chance isn't unwarranted. She's an interesting character, as an overlord who hangs on to power but clearly has morals. But how often do you see people writing essays about her? Eating up the fact that she's a powerful overlord but would sacrifice anything for her daughters? If Carmilla were a man, hundreds of girlies would be drooling over the crime boss who has a soft spot for his daughters.
Meanwhile, Velvette got to demonstrate why exactly she's an Overlord despite being the youngest demon in there. She's calculating and observant. She gives off a haughty vibe and constantly boasts about how she's young and fresh, but she isn't naive. During that meeting, she paid attention to Carmilla and Zestial's relationship. In order to find out who killed the angel, she riled everyone up, and when she got the feeling it was Carmilla, she mocked Zestial so that Carmilla could slip up. By playing these Overlords who are older and more experienced than her, Velvette showed what exactly her asset was to the Vees and why she's a threat, something that Vox and Val have yet to be given the opportunity to do when they were busy eye-fucking Alastor and literally fucking Angel. But in fan content about the Vees, Velvette is almost treated as an after thought to the boys...
Then we have the Seraphs. Not only were their designs gorgeous, their dynamic and presence as characters had impact to the plot and main characters.
Emily is a much needed character to show that this story isn't meant to tell you that Heaven = bad; Hell = good. There is good and bad in both, and it is so important for the protags to know that they have an ally in Emily who represents the true virtues that heaven is supposed to uphold. And I love the confrontation she had with Sera when her own view of what's right and good was challenged. We got to see the strength of her character and started the seeds of what could be heaven's acceptance of Charlie's goals.
Sera is such an interesting character to me. She was also important to show that not all angels were sadistic like Adam and Lute, but not in the same way Emily was. I have no idea so far which direction this show would go with her. But I'm intrigued by the fact that she seems to be driven by fear, unlike Adam and Lute's cruelty. She knew Lucifer and was there when he was cast out for his disobedience. Whether everything she's doing is to prevent that from happening again remains to be seen, and I'm looking forward to this kind of subplot for her.
And then Rosie! I really really look forward to seeing more from her. Spoilers aside, something I barely see people talk about is how interesting it is that Rosie is every bit the leader that Charlie hopes to be. Rosie is able to be a respected overlord in her own faction without needing to sacrifice her love for showmanship and music and her positive disposition. When we were officially introduced to her, they show how she seems to care about actually taking care of her people, not JUST ordering them around, by talking to them personally and giving advice. That's exactly what Charlie wanted to do for her people, isn't it? The hotel to Charlie was what the emporium was to Rosie. They have a lot of similarities that could set up for Rosie to be the one to teach Charlie in becoming a leader. Now whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen, but it is rather compelling.
So yeah! With all that said, I really dont think this show ignores its women at all. Just because a bigger part of the fandom gravitated towards the men doesn't necessarily mean its a misogynistic show so far. But if certain people are claiming that the women are badly written, then I hope they also own up to the fact that their blorbos are just as shallowly presented within the show, maybe even more so. Which wouldn't even be a bad thing! Since when did a show or character have to be amazingly written for a person to like them? That's just no fun at all. All I'm saying is... Fuck this fandom's double standards, hiding behind claims that it's the writing's fault when the problem is they couldn't be bothered to think about the women.
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creatingblackcharacters · 2 months ago
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hey there! so, im making a character who's Black, anddd i need help with them. badly so.
(sorry in advance bc this character isnt That developed or at least not as much as other OCs i have)
alright, they're an afab teen under the non-binary umbrella (im not sure on what gender i should give them). they're in a friend group with two other teens, one of whom found out she's trans, and that made them go like "wait maybe im not cis". they live in an extremely conservative christian town, and they're one of the few black kids there (it's an awful place to live, i make that very clear), which makes it so that they're not very connected with LGBTQ not POC communities - which is why their friend was the one who introduced queerness to them. they're the quietest of their friend group, quite autism coded but i dont think I'll really specify it, and they're a pretty normal kid all things considered (a bit of a self-insert personality wise lol)
when i first thought this character's gender arc, as the story will be very visual (animatics probably), i thought of them experimenting with gender by trying on their older brother's clothes. seeing they like how it looks, they decide to pick up a pack of scissors and cut their hair themself.
now, i remembered "oh fuck, POC usually don't like to have their hair messed with do they?" (i have read a bunch of posts abt that so im 99% certain lol-), then noticed how white the whole arc looks (i need more contact with POC i live in White Hell i have no other reference ;;), and that kinda discouraged me from writing them to the point i almost scrapped the whole character arc and even the concept- which is also why they're not as developed as they should be.
now, the actual question! how to write their transition arc, while also remaining respectful and realistic? also, have you noticed anything in this ask that's kinda fucked up, and how can i fix it if so? im doing my best to represent many groups of ppl with my OCs and i want to be accurate sorry if this ask is very long ;;
thank you so much for answering, and thank you for this blog!! you're very cool :)
So first, I deeply want to apologize for how late I am on answering this. I didn't want to answer without being informed, but I also know how much you want advice.
First, if this character is Black, say "Black" not "POC". Even in your head, start making that decision to be specific every time. We have a specific identity, we are not every man, and it's annoying to be referred to so generally when we have an identity.
For the hair part, check out this lesson. If your character decided to cut their hair off themselves, then it's not exactly an issue- it's their hair! It'd be different if it was someone they didn't know and trust touching their hair. You may feel free to refer to my entire syllabus if you want to do the reading to see if there's anything else you may have missed!
As for your question on their transition, this is the part that I was wavering on answering, because I'm currently doing the reading myself for a lesson I'm writing. So at the moment, all I can really say is to read narratives about and by Black trans people, and what that meant for them! That's a cool list I just found, I'm gonna save it for later as a reference.
It's not going to be received the same way as a white person transitioning, no; perception of gender identity and expression are going to be different depending on who's looking. For example, what does 'Black androgyny' look like to white people if they already believe that we have 'masculine' features? Thus the existence of the term 'stud'. Or how long hair is deemed feminine, but there are plenty of Black and Indigenous people whose hair growth is essential to their identity and has nothing to do with "making them girly".
I think what I plan on getting into more detail on in my lesson- and what you'll need to understand- is that following or even subverting gender "norms" is dependent upon what those cultural norms are, and how they might conflict at times. So to write a respectful narrative, you're going to have to understand what it means to live at that intersection. I hope this all made sense 😅 this is why I'm not confident in that lesson yet.
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rottencoreofalpes · 2 months ago
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Unfiltered thoughts i posted in the server
ch4 spoilers:
Tw: suicide, suicidal thoughts,
Watari was a 17 year old girl, who NEVER mentioned anything she could go back to. She seemed to suffocate under the pressure of her home life. She was an active girl that had a lot of responsibilities such as home chores, taking care of her siblings, cooking for her family (something that if she did not do, we found out no dinner would be served at home that day) and she also had her dancing team too, which she led. She was the reason if divorcing of her parents and she hoped during the divorce her dad would pick her so she wouldn't have to live a life where she needed to act as her sibling's parent.
Do you know HOW important that point is? Because for a kid to force their parents into divorce just so they could escape parentification, it means said child is NOT doing well at all. As we know, her plan failed and it made things even harder on her because now she knew that their father did not love them. And so she goes on with her life and the busy schedule imo makes it harder to process her emotions about her siblings and mom.
And ho behold, suddenly she finds herself kidnapped into a killing take. A game in which she has something she never had before; free time. Free time to think about her life, free time to try and have fun. During the killing game she remains loud and cheerful and optimistic. She seems happy, right? Well, yeah, but she also never brings up her life. The killing game seemed like a place where she finally managed to escape the responsibilities thrust upon her back home. And of course with that much time and seeing other students die, she starts to think about her life. She loses a dear friend (Okazaki) and at the same time discovers that she did not know that person like she thought she did. At. All. She had to grapple with the fact that her friend ruined the lives of many ppl for nothing but theatrics. She can't even talk about Okazaki to others and how despite everything Okazaki did, her heart mourns her.
Because no one else was close to Okazaki and most ppl had negative opinions on her (wada,hayashi, yanagi, ojima, hiroaki). So ofc she had to keep her thoughts to herself and try to make sense of her grief. And then, she just. Gets tired. Her life song is pretty interesting to me, because it sounds... melancholic in a way. She decides that she doesn't have anything joyful she could go back to. She decides that her life should just end and well, why not do something useful with your suicide? Why not save one of the few ppl that has struggled a lot in this killing game? Hama who has his little sister and mom to go back to? Hama who promised to treat her like a little sister and to be her older brother.
Shes tired. Shes gonna die. The others she isnt as close with. She is *selfish* she HAS the right to be selfish once in her life, her whole life was selfless sacrifice for ppl who didnt even appreciate her. So why not try and save Hama as a bonus?
I think Watari deserved so much more grace than ppl are willing to give her.
Yes, Hama died because of her actions, but so did Isono, so did Chiba, so did Kamimura and Tsuno. Watari isnt the first person who killed someone with their plan.
Also cmon, guys. Suicide and depression TRAMPS loggic. She was clearly the representation of "People that smile brightest aren't always that happy"
I don't think she used Hama. Honestly her plan was pretty bright. She had ppl confused for a long time. She did make a choice for Hama, which is unfair BUT wr have to think of it in her POV
and whrn youre spiralling and thinking of killing yourself you arent acting too logically
Also, idk, personally i feel like her suicide was handled very well.
Suicide and suicidal ideations suck. Okay? They do. They are awful. No one wants to paint them positively! Because they arent. When a human being starts to fantasize about their suicide THEY dont do it just for the fun of it. Suicide is refered to so as the cancer of the brain, because it infests your brain without your permission. It robs you of logic, of emotions. IT gives you tunnel sight which js trained only on ending the hrt you feel inside of your chest. It tires out out. Drains the life out of you. Why are we demanding perfection from a depressed person?
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gublerie · 6 months ago
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suburban legends - in depth of a theory that the song is written about matthew gray gubler
this theory was made by me and rafa (@bendthwrules on twitter) cause we’re both delusional and have lots of free time apparently lol please take this lightly this is just to have fun. if you have any thoughts to share or add to our theory dont be shy !
first and foremost, we’ll start with a timeline then dive in to analyze the lyrics! it all starts with taylor’s infamous 4th of july parties, as most of you probably already know, matthew was in one of her parties in 2013, she threw the party at her house in rhode island.
on july 3rd, matthew tweeted that his next stop was new england, later that day, he took a photo with a fan during a flight to connecticut. the rumors that he was at her party started when he posted pictures with face paint and sparklers and people started to notice similarities between his and taylor’s pictures, he later deleted said pictures.
for reference, first are the pictures he posted and the pictures taylor took with other friends on the same occasion.
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later on, we got this picture of the of them together, confirming that he was at her party indeed. (i can’t remember who posted this so if you remember please let me know)
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his attendance on taylor’s independence party sparked rumors of a possible romance, although they didn’t officially date, it’s common knowledge that they did have a fling (also for the sake of the theory we’ll accept that as true lol).
let’s fast forward to 300 (and almost 65) days later, a new movie premieres at the fantasia international film festival on june of 2014, the movie is suburban gothic. and this was the starting point for me and rafa i mean suburban gothic… suburban legends…
taylor announced her first pop album ever, 1989, on a yahoo worldwide livestream on august 18th, 2014. by the time she announced it, of course, the album was already finished and the tracks it would have were already determined so anything taylor wrote after that, wouldn’t be in the original version of 1989.
our grand theory is that the premier of matthew’s new movie, suburban gothic, made taylor think back on her (very very) brief relationship with him, therefore, inspiring her to write suburban legends, a direct reference to the movie title.
without further ado, let’s get to the lyrics!!
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taylor start the song by singing
“You had people who called you on unmarked numbers
In my peripheral vision”
which led us to associating it to mgg’s previous girlfriend and also his co-star in suburban gothic, kat dennings. since they were doing a movie together, they probably were in contact a lot and that’s possibly what taylor was referencing in this verse.
she then goes
“I let it slide like a hose on a slippery plastic summer
All was quickly forgiven”
keep in mind all the 4th of july parties are in the middle of summer, this verse could be a direct reference to that since the very first rumors started with a party in the middle of summer.
“And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever”
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do i even need to say anything else?
“I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school”
when sharing my thoughts on the lyrics with rafa, i reminded her of what taylor wrote in state of grace “just twin fire signs”, this could be about taylor and the person she’s singing about sharing star signs (of the elements fire) but also about them being twin flames (or at least she thought so). just like she purposefully mentioned matching signs in previous lyrics, i do believe she would mention mismatched signs, mind you that taylor is a sagittarius and matthew is a pisces.
that verse could also be a metaphor about how would people view their relationship, they are from different parts of the industry and didn’t share many mutual friends. “surprising the whole school” could be about how shocked the general public would be about them being together.
“When I ended up back at our class reunion walking in with you
You'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out”
here i want to highlight the expression “you’d be” and in the previous verse “i had a fantasy”, when using these expressions, taylor is taking a position of someone imagining something, someone wondering even daydreaming about what things would be like. all the other theories about who this song is about revolve around people who taylor actually had a relationship with like harry styles and it just doesn’t make sense to me why she’d be having a fantasy of how things would be like when she knew how things were. personally, this verses make much more sense when placed in a context of someone who taylor didn’t have a real relationship with, like matthew.
“I know that you still remember”
if we’re starting from the assumption that she wrote the song almost a year later looking back at what happened between them, this verse could be how she is directly talking to him, she is remembering what happened and she knows he still remember as well.
“When you told me we'd get back together”
this could possibly hint to him wanting to get back together with her, wanting to actually evolve into a true relationship.
“I broke my own heart 'cause you were too polite to do it”
although i think there’s something almost sarcastic to this verse (like you were sooo polite you couldn’t even break my heart 🥴), i still do think it makes a connection to the previous verse i mentioned, perhaps he wanted to have a real relationship with her and when she realized it wouldn’t work, she had to break her own heart so she could move on.
and some other verses that just scream matthew gray gubler (iykyk) but i can’t quite put into words like “You were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious” or “We were born to be national treasures”.
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well, that was too much ! i think it’s pretty clear that i’m not the most skilled writer (😭) but this was just to share the thoughts that were making me go crazy. huuuuge thanks to rafa cause she was the one to make me stop and think about it also helped me with the writing process and also is big on timeline cause she’s been on both fandoms a long time, ty love 🩷.
please let me know your thoughts on this, love you pookies 🫶
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fortunelowtier · 10 months ago
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I was gonna reblog my original post but I didn't wanna spam people with a long ass post (this post is already long enough) so instead I'll just link the previous post here and if yall wanna go look at it you can, but the short version is that a few days ago I made a post talking about HBs incredibly high turnover rate, and apparently within a few days it got enough traction to where it started spreading to the higher-ups of Spindlehorse, including Viv herself. I decided to make this update post just as a way to debunk what I can and as clearly as I can. 
First tweet:
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So for starters, they say this as if IMDB's numbers aren't publically available, it's not like I pulled these numbers out of my ass without merit, these are numbers I got off of IMDB. And I know some people might pull the high school English teacher card of “Anyone can edit that!!” and to be honest I dont feel like going into the semantics of one of the most non-arguments you can possibly use so all I’ll say is that the process of editing a Wikipedia or IMDB page is not as easy as your English teachers taught you to think it is. Sure you can edit it but it's another story if the edit will be saved. There's moderation, it's not a free-for-all.
Also, I find it interesting how this tweet was made (and subsequently deleted) mere days after their promotion to Animation Director, and if there's anything I've learned from Spindlehorse controversies it is that if someone is in any real position at the top of the companies proverbial food chain they shouldn't be allowed to speak for the experiences of employees lower on the ladder than them, especially when a lot of them seem to have a habit of denying certain claims despite the public availability of numerous pieces of evidence pointing toward the contrary
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It's like if you visited a bunch of former employees of a restaurant with a high turnover rate with proof that they had worked there and for exactly how long they worked there and then the manager comes along and tries to basically say “NUH UH” despite information proving the contrary being publicly available (maybe not the best analogy but you get what I mean)
Ok now onto the second one by Viv herself:
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There’s a lot to dissect here so I’m gonna break it down bit by bit.
Firstly:
"They’re listing every single credited person in EVERY art department"
So the way I got my numbers was by going to the Series Animation Department section of HB's IMDB, highlighting every name from the beginning of the section to the end, and then pasting them into this website which gave me the line count of 444. Was that the most optimal way of doing so? No, especially after I learned after the fact that there's a way to just see the numbers straight up, but that hardly matters considering the fact that there are allegedly more people in the animation dept who were uncredited, however, I'm still waiting on some more info from my source as to the validity and the scale of these claims (How many people were uncredited, how little were they paid for their work, etc etc) to make a proper post about it, so until then ill just leave it at that as to not make accusations without merit.
So, humoring Viv, I added up the total IMDB credits for the Art Dept and Visual Effects Dept, as well as the Sound Dept since I qualify sound as a form of art and because I wanted to give Viv as fair a chance as possible and actually tally the total credits of “every art department” as Viv claims I did, and it still only equals 155 total credits, a little over a third of the credits in the Animation Dept
Secondly:
“That includes the TC and Chaos credits”
So these are in reference to Toon City and Chaos Emporium, 2 companies known as a source for outsourcing animation, and just to humor Viv I decided to go onto IMDB and tally up all of the Chaos and TC credits since according to her that's where I got most of my final number.
After doing so, Chaos Emporium had a total of 15 credits, and Toon City had a total of 45
So Viv is making it seem like the TC and CE credits make up a large majority of them, which is why I got the number I did, when in reality when combined they only equal 60 credits. 14% of the total (technically it’s 13.5% but I’m rounding to the nearest whole for the sake of convenience)
Thirdly:
“We dont even have 400 people. Simply Misinformation.”
You’re right Viv, you dont have 400 people, because I never said you did, nor did I imply you did. I said you've had 400. Of course you dont have 400 current employees, your company burns through them like paper because you underpay them while you go burning your Amazon and merch money on cruises and vacations and continuously post photos of you buying from zionist companies knowing full well that they're part of an active boycott.
So yeah, that's my 2 cents. Sorry if this sounded like some shit you'd see on a Twitlonger but after Viv was made aware of the posts I made about the turnover rate (and subsequently blocked me within the hour after seeing it) I knew that it wasn't gonna be long before I had people DMing me about how wrong I was because “Viv said it was wrong so it must be wrong”. 
One more thing I wanna add because I've gotten a lot of angry messages/asks about this, a lot of Viv stans seem to think I have this bizarre hate boner for Viv when I really don’t. I don’t hate Viv, I hate what she’s become. I hate how ever since the HH pilot she’s become a bully who can’t take criticism. And not just on the surface level of “criticism makes her upset”, because yea no shit, criticism makes everyone upset at least a little, and it's why I hate it when people see someone being upset at criticism and going “ERMM, CANT TAKE CRITICISM?”
When I say “Viv can’t take criticism” I mean she actively tries to shut down any convo about it without trying to learn from it. She blocks anyone who talks poorly about her or her company and makes baseless claims knowing full well her fans will follow her to the ends of Hell regardless of whether or not what she’s saying is even correct.
That’s all I got for now
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alleycatchitchat · 2 years ago
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TROLLS BAND TOGETHER SPOILERS
SO I WATCHED TROLLS BAND TOGETHER!!! MANY FEELINGSS! INCOHERENT!!!
I have SO much to say and think about this movie (positive) buuut I need a few days, or maybe weeks, to process... but I made some notes while watching just to chronicle the emotional journey I was experiencing, and wanted to share! There are SPOILERS here, please PLEASE do not read if you don't want to see spoilers!!
Ready? Ok:
"Let's play some rummy! But I won't let you win, because I play for the money" i think im in love
BRIDGET WEDDING JUMPSUIT FUCK YEAH 😭😭
"I can't remember all my suitors, Grissie" yes you go girl. you're powerful and amazing and people love you, don't ever forget it
apparently poppy casually refers to branch as her boyfriend and that's normal now. i'm (choke) gonna need (sob) gonna need a minute here guys
love that floyd signs his letters "the sensitive one" like yeah babe pretty sure your brother knows who you are no need to specify
sweet dreams IS featured in this movie!! omg im so happy you have no idea. i saw somewhere that velvet and veneer performed that song and it's my favorite ever and i was SO freaking excited to see it featured in one of my favorite franchises but i couldn't find it when the soundtrack came out so i thought it was fake but its not im so happy
peppy how many more dark secrets are you hiding?? he was so straightforward in the first movie but now it looks like he's just gonna keep pulling bigger and weirder hidden drama out of his sleeve as the franchise progresses. not necessarily a complaint just something i noticed
floyd is branch's favorite brother CONFIRMED
floyd! the sass!! ok he's DEFINITELY related to branch and also i think i love him
FLOYD SWEETHEART BABYGIRL DONT BE SAD I CANT HANDLE THAT
“Branch? One word. KEEPER”
Wait but how can floyd be my favorite brozone member when bruce is also so wonderful
I can also totally see the family resemblance between branch and bruce when they simp over their girls
I KNEW peppy was gonna be talking to mr dinkles i knew it i knew it
Also just so happy to see them acknowledge the events of the original movie. Don’t think bridget and gristle were even in TWT?? And the trolls’ history with the bergens in HUGE, and something that they shouldn’t have just written out of the story like that
They’re going to FLUSH floyd?????
Yes clay grandma got eaten try to keep up
Floyd and branch hugging THROUGH the glass is everything i ever wanted and also killing me slowly and painfully
I mean i guess its diamond not glass but you get the idea
“Its fine. we’re not gonna press charges”
Anna is unfrozen with the power of sisterly love but short, male, and blue
Do i like veneer now? What’s happening?
Wow. branch has come a long way since the first troll movie, and i didn’t know how to feel abut that because i was so nostalgic, but seeing him happy and confident like this makes me feel so at peace. yess i know he’s a fictional children’s character what of it
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princesssmars · 2 years ago
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unexpected
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an ellabs x black!streamer!reader
some times your viewers expect you're in a relationship, and one time you spell it out clearly for them.
wc : 1.860
contains : reader is feminine ! the picture is more lightskin but all shades can read <333 ltlvc reference
a/n : coming up with chat usernames is so hard what the fawk??? but yeah while i ignore trolls the ones under these tags were pissing me off so i wrote this for my fellow black girlies <333 i hope u enjoy :)
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lets get one thing out of the way, you loved being a streamer. now that you had a good following of a few thousand regular watchers, you were more than financially stable, got to do something you enjoyed as a job, and even made a few new streaming friends.
but when it came to those friends, every content creator knew simple friendships could stir up drama. you had heard of many cases of friendships being strained or ruined because of this job. more specifically because of the fans.
which is why you took an oath to leave finer details like relationships out of your work. if you did tell a story about that time you and your friends nearly got kicked out of a local mall's journey's, you would keep descriptions of friends brief and blank, even resorting to calling people "friend number one, friend number two..."
luckily most of your fans were more than understanding that you wanted to keep some of your life private.
most of them.
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case one : the first p.o. box
it was another po box opening stream you decided to start early in the day, wanting to show and appreciate chat with the things they got for you.
lululemonsz : babe i hope its a new keyboard urs is on a iv drip !
wariolover96 : open it open the box OPEN IT
shelovedantee : damn is there a bomb in it hurry up
you laughed looking at all the people in chat begging you to open the current package in your hand.
"everybody chill out. look, im gonna open the first one now."
you quickly got a pair of scissors to cut off the packing tape on both ends, hurrying to pull the cardboard from its place.
the chat started speeding up when your mouth fell open in shock, slowly reaching in and pulling out the keyboard. it was sleek, mechanical, and your favorite color.
biiiigpoo : omg isnt that thing like $250?
lululemonsz : this as the first gift is CRAZY
ilovestardewmc1237 : one of your viewers is in love with you
you couldn't even respond, turning the keyboard over and back again to admire the details of it. out of the corner of your eye you spot a little yellow sticky note at the bottom, bringing it up to read it without letting the camera see. once you got to the end, your eyes widened and you quickly moved on to the next gifts.
but the light reflecting from your window and monitor was enough for chat to see a few letters on the note. after that, your fandom quickly began talking of a person named "A" who had not only the money to get you crazy expensive keyboards, but was also able to fluster you with a small note.
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case two : the search history.
every so often, your mods would host little events on your stream. these could include giveaways, shitty chat therapy, and little games for everyone to play. today it was a challenege : the more bits people donated, the crazier stuff you had to do for them. it was all pretty tame, and the end goal was one you didnt think you'd manage to hit.
never doubt the power of charisma and a pretty face, because after only three hours you manged to reach that two thousand dollar mark, and chat was raving at what you'd have to reveal next : your search history.
ariagatorr : damn this lowkey invasive 💀
devonchcgo22 : and we dont give a fuck
plantsnparsnip : right open that shit up
"i hate yall, do you know that? like genuinely." you groaned, slowly movied your mouse to open your chrome history.
there wasn't much for chat to bully you about thankfully, just some light teasing about how much you use pinterest and asking what it was you bought on etsy. and just when you thought you were done, someone had to open their big damn mouth.
pian0picass0 : wait a minute why did you open ellies stream THREE times ????
chat started moving faster as they read the comment, everyone asking you to open the stream and show them what was going on. sucking your teeth and denying them as you had shown them what they wanted!
after quickly wrapping up the stream and giving your thanks and goodbyes, a portion of viewers went on a manhunt for any ellie who was streaming at the moment.
once clicking on the stream, they found it was just a casual stream with ellie. she was obviously pretty, but was super laid-back in her jeans and converse as she strummed some songs on her guitar.
"oh hey, welcome to the stream i guess. any requests? i was gonna practice some radiohead because my friend asked for it."
pian0picass0 : hey ellie! do you know who (y/u) is by any chance?
"'sup casso. uhhhh no i dont think i do. did she send yall over here? maybe ill check her channel out."
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case three : the enhanced dm's
"everybody shut the fuck up and lets start this stupid thing."
this was it, one of your biggest streams of the year. and also the most fun. and most aggravating.
the gist was simple. you and 5 other streamers were thrown into a discord call and whoever lasted the longest through the sleep deprivation and challenges won a heap of cash.
what the hell was it with you getting screwed over by challenges?
it didn't seem that bad. the host, a close friend of yours, told you to share your screen so everyone could decide something to tweet from your twitter.
now, your friends in the call didn't notice what was on your screen when you shared it, and if they did they didn't say anything. but never doubt the perseverance of your crazy ass viewers, because one took the liberty to see exactly what you were saying in that split second they could see your dm's, because they swore they knew that profile picture...
abby : don't worry you'll do fine
abby : you're not gonna get embarrassed by any of the challenges
abby : i hope
y/n : seriously
abby : come onn you know i'm rooting for you &lt;3
y/n : aww thanks bee
abby : yup. for the whole event i'm gonna be your personal cheerleader ^3^
y/n : oooo you gonna put on a uniform for me?
abby : don't push it.
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case four : the voice chat slip up
at this point, there was no point in acting like you didn't know the two streamers.
the first was abby. mostly posted fitness, health, and lifestyle videos on youtube, but would occasionally go live on twitch to talk with her fans or stream herself working out at the gym.
(you may or may not have admitted live that you found her by watching a few of her workout streams. whoops.)
and then there was ellie, a gaming streamer who was known for being chill and quiet when playing music but as loud as a plane engine when playing cs:go. don't even get her started on cod.
but luckily you'd manage to convince her to play some games with you on your latest stream! some stardew, maybe some overcooked. even if she kept burning all of the damn food.
leave it to ellie williams to always surprise you, though.
when you hear the du-dum of the discord join noise, your face lights up and your mouth opens to greet ellie before she beats you to it.
"ok, babe, which game we playin first?"
to make a long story shot, your chat went ballistic and you gave a stern talking to the red head after the stream ended.
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case five : the instagram post
most of the time you leave most of your notifications off to avoid your phone sounding like a constant alarm. but you're guessing your recent endeavor of babysitting your cute but horrifically grabby nephew screwed you over, because before you know it the sound of dozens on instagram notifications are waking you up and pushing your bonnet from where it slipped down your eyes before unlocking your phone.
at first it seems like a normal picture abby posted, standing in front of a mirror in her living room , flexing her arm and covered in a thin sheen of sweat after an apparent workout session. ever the show off.
but when you zoomed into a blip of color in the background, your eyes almost pop out of your head when you see it.
its you and ellie, you sitting in her lap while she showed you some stupid meme on her phone she said reminded her of you.
the post was only thirty minutes old but already had a few thousand comments, the previes of 'OMG?????' and "no fucking way" giving you a hint to what people were thinking.
you turned off your phone, tossed it back on the nightstand and went back to sleep.
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case six : the joint stream
y/nsstan69 : not an unscheduled stream ??? is it judgement day ???
onlycuntz : "ft surprise guest" girl we aren't stupid
you had to hide the smile from appearing on your face as you read through the comments of your chat. you knew some of them were probably smart enough to know what was going on. the three of you hadn't really been discrete in the days following abby's slip up post, and viewers jumped at the chance to point you out in the background of some of her workout videos. and to point out how you were staring at her.
assholes.
so, here you sat in the comfort of your cute gaming chair ready to tell chat the big news with your special guest.
"so, i bet some of you are wondering why im streaming off schedule, but i had something big in my personal life that i wanted to tell you guys! in a few minutes my gest should be here..."
your voice trailed off as you kept your eye on chat, seeing a bunch of comments that you werent expecting from this big announcement.
motionpickers : lmaooooo are they serious
lululemonsz : she's gonna be so pissed
you begin to turn around in your chair when two pairs of lips press a kiss to each of your cheeks.
"you guys are so unserious."
"and you are so bad at hiding things." ellie pulls up and extra chair and rolls it up to yours so her knees touch yours. she tugs your hand into hers to sit on her lap, ignoring when you pinch her with your nails.
"ignore her. we could tell what you were doing and figured we should all do it together," abby is on your other side, resting her hip on the arm of your chair. "so, go ahead. it's pretty obvious already."
"wow, thanks for the support you guys."
"anytime, hun."
uhuhstasia : i literally cant tell whos luckier
niatargaryen : IS ANYBODY ELSE FREAKNG OUT
ilovestardewmc1237 : is it appropiate to say i called this
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kentocrush · 1 month ago
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03. ,, mitski + jjk
since twitter flopped on my mitski x jjk post ive decided to wrap it over to my real fans Tumblr (thank you) I am so enthusiastic about mitski and jjk equally so I have gathered a wide assortment of mitski lyrics/songs and jjk characters that fit each other! warning for obvious JJK SPOILERS (if I do end up explaining a few) I'll probably make a part two.
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YUJI ITADORI + CRACK BABY "Crack Baby, you don't know what you want // But you know that you had it once // and you know that you want it back" I know damn well that Yuji misses what he had before, how he wishes for a normal life (even if he won't always admit it) but truly - he was cursed from the start, and he will never truly know what he wants back.
GETO SUGURU (HS) + I WANT YOU "you're coming back // and its the end of the world // we're starting over // and i love you, darling // and i'm done, dear" very much in reference to the KFC scene, but also Gojo in general. Theres not too much to talk about but I really emphasize the "we're starting over" although, they aren't really. Theres no starting over.
MAI ZEN'IN + I DONT LIKE MY MIND "inside the walls of my skull, waiting for its turn to talk // and it may be in a few years // but you can be its tere, waiting still // for me to be left alone in a room full of things ive done"
theres really no explaining to do here. As much as I dont really like Mai - she makes me so sad. especially with the hints on her relationship with Naoya??? fml!!!!!!
SUKUNA RYOMEN + COP CAR "am cruel, i am gentle, i can make you laugh // i have loved many boys, i have loved many girls // i dont think about the past, its always there anyway"
if you get it.. you get it. I really dont know how to explain blahhh...
JUNPEI YOSHINO (+ MAKI ZEN'IN) + CLASS OF 2013 "Mom, would you wash my back? // This once, and then we can forget // And I'll leave what im chasing for the other girls to pursue"
FML!!!!!! god I hate this but., RBGUBVUDHBSSIJ
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO + CLASS OF 2013 (LIVE) "Mom, am I still young? // can I dream for a few months more?"
this is a sign for me to stop
GOJO SATORU (ADULT) + I BET ON LOSING DOGS
Literally the entire song is him idk guys. like his babies are his students andall he wants to be is the proudest teacher and father and he's just doing a great job. I fw Gojo Satoru. but GOD this song is so him im gonna fucking los
SHOKO IEIRI + FIRST LOVE/LATE SPRING "Lately, I've been crying like a tall child // So please, hurry, leave me, I can't breathe // please don't say you love me."
Shoko deserves so much better I say. im also listening to this song right now soo.
KENTO NANAMI (HS) + I GUESS "I guess... // I'll have to learn how to be somebody else // Its been you and me since before I was me // without you, I don't know quite how to live"
dont even get me STARTED!!! Haibara was His ONLY classmate and one of his ONLY close friends and he literally died and left kento alone. Nobody understood kento like Haibara did - and he lost his youth which is hwy kento wants to protect it so much nowww.
YUUTA OKKOTSU + THE FROST "You're my best friend // Now I've no one to tell // How I lost my best friend"
I actually love this song so much..! I feel a lot of people assume satosugu with this song but nobody else at the tech at all knew Rika like he did -- and he didn't really have anyone to TRULY understand the lost of rika like he himself did. let my boy get understood.
NOBARA KUGISAKI + REMEMBER MY NAME "Cause I need somebody to remember my name // after all I can do for them is done // I need someone to remember me // I need something bigger than the sky // Hold it in my my arms and know its mine"
I dont know how to put this into a lot of words. She wants to be known - become someone strong and someone that people can look up to.........
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yayyy!!!! ill def try to cook up some more but with other artists zs well. I listen to a lot of mitski, laufey, and Tyler but I listen to others too.... give me some recs if you want!!!
always - likes and reblogs are appreciated !!!! (as well as comments I love to talk)
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readingwiththestars · 8 months ago
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₊˚⊹♡ NOTHING LIKE THE MOVIES
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["Trust me, Lib," I said, picturing her lips. "In a crowd of million ski masks, I'd still be able to find you."]
| ✮ 3 stars |
ᝰ.ᐟ ⊹ arc review thank you to netgalley + simon and schuster for providing me with an e-arc in exchange for an honest review
THOUGHTS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . [minor spoilers]
ok. i put this review off for a couple days cause i knew this was gonna be harder to write because i love lynn painter books, really. buuttt i was horribly disappointed with this one. i'm the biggest wesliz fan but... like yeah i cant even form coherent thoughts about it. like this was unnecessary there was no point in shattering their relationship to write this.
like it was good to see wes's pov and everything but it felt so... idk yeah. (see im still struggling so bad to find words.)
one thing i would formally like to invite lynn to STOP doing though is shoving every taylor/ pop culture reference on the planet into the book. like holy shit woman. i few is okay BUT NOT THAT MANY COME ON!!!! they were in the middle of a fucking argument and wes is quoting illicit affairs or some bullshit. usually i love finding little references on page but this felt like too much.
i feel like she's whipped out her computer and gone straight to some dog fanpage or just plainly scrolled through edits seeing people saying "this song is so wesliz coded" and shoved those songs into the book. there is an on page reference to in between reference saying its their montage song.
also um this shit: ”little liz can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh. because she’s dead.” and somehow when jack antonoff was randomly brought up??? like some people are good at weaving taylor swift lyrics into books. lynn you are not.
also lynn take this a plea to never use the word "growl" or "growled" in a sentence ever again when describing your male characters. and to never write this sentence “she’s one of the guys you know? she’s just… different,” EVER AGAIN. PLEASE.
WHAT I DID LIKE THO WAS THE TINY TINY CRUMBS OF BAILEYCHARLIE AND NICKEMELIE (even tho nick was only mentioned and i dont think emelie was even there but eh)
CHARACTERS ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
liz - ok so weirdly enough she was the most tolerable and still intolerable at the same time. like she was so different from the liz in bttm the sunshiney, wearing dresses of all different colours and her love of romcoms. she was described as anti-love and was practically a full on different character seriously. if you liked the first book maybe dont have high expectations for nltm. like i do understand she had her heart broken and so obviously that makes sense for some of the change but it had been two years and as liz likes to say SO FUCKING MUCH "she's moved on, she's moved past it, its in the past" well for someone who's moved on you sure like to avoid the past a lot. also idk who tf she was trying to fool with that whole "i don't like wes, im over him." shit like gurl- you were literally kissing 2.5 seconds ago whats with the switching sides. and there was SO much about her leaving "little liz" behind. like what was so wrong with liking flowers and romcoms? and being a hopeless romantic and wearing bright colours?
wes - okay so it was quiet heartbreaking to hear abt wes's side of this book (except for the whole pursuing liz part) and i did feel sorry for him. but like what happened to the sweet, caring wes in the first book. and tell me why i had to read THIS sentence “climb on me like a good girl,” LIKE MY EYES LYNN WTF????? i did not sign up for this wes, like no stop telling me how obsessed you are with liz's lips or how she's a mythological sex goddess- boy sit ur ass down. and don't even get me started on the beginning of the book. WHAT WAS THAT SHIT? why was wes acting like a 7yr old excited for school and talking (so much) abt his love for scootering? SCOOTERING. LYNN PAINTER WHAT THE EVER LOVING HELL? SCOOTERING. DO YOU HAVE SOME OBSESSION WITH THEM OR SOMETHING? WHY DID THOSE DUMB THINGS KEEP SHOWING UP?? like tell me why i needed to read this shit: "i fucking loved the scooters ..... wes + scooters = HEA" ..... lynn.
QUOTES ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
im not going to bother to find any of these, see: im too lazy
all in all i still liked some points when both of them were acting normal. which is why its a 3. but i feel like this is leaning towards a hate review but yeah idk i cant actually pin point parts that i remember liking- also the ending??? what was that? it made no sense to me.
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dress-and-impress · 2 months ago
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(cal if you see this pls dont read it has spoilers)
Now that The Dragon Prince Season 7 has been released and the processing has died down imma just share smth right her right now... the whole "Ezran vs Rayllum" thing did not affect me AT ALL while watching it. Was totally unfazed by it becasue I knew they were gonna all be friends again by the end of it... and have no opinion about who was right and who was wrong (That's not to say I didn't feel weird about it. I very much did). So, here is my presentive of each character in this situation:
(picture obviously from a poster of TDP promo)
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Ezran:
As every Ez stan knows, he's a young king and has many difficult and challenging decisions to make. He was NEVER prepared to take the throne and when he did it was with such honesty, patience and love for EVERYONE, human, elf and even villain (as per talking to Aravos and Karim about their views and perspectives). BUT when the love he had got taken advantage of, he lost it. Like I would too if you spend all this time building a bridge (hypothetically and in a way literally) with people perceived as "the enemy". His perception of the world became a blur and the innocence he had was shattered in a million pieces. When Callum left he was undoubtably confused but MORE determined to put his fathers killer to justice instead of asking why (like he usually does).
Callum:
Now he's a very controversial side because you either love him or hate him. Very quickly though i find it really strange how he keeps saying that Rayla does everything for others and wants to do something "for her"; the quazar diamond scenario in season 6 and at the oddly adorable bridge scene at the end of season 7. To put it quite plainly, Callum has no idea how to make himself happy, so he makes other people happy. But you're probably thinking "Callum pissed off Ezran and ditched his brother for his gf". Yes. He did. Callum was a mediator in the situation (or tried to be) and once he knew both sides couldn't be happy he had to choose. Ezran, his half-brother and King who has kingdoms and allies that support him no matter what. Or the girl he loves and spent years thinking about and wants to make up as much time as possible with her AND who regretted running away without asking for any help from Callum.
Lets refer back to the moments before Rayla decided to leave (on Callums birthday). She was determined to find Viren and finish what they started and Callum didn't want her to so they made a compromise. BUT THEN Rayla left as we know. Alone. With nothing.
Rayla:
We have no idea what Rayla spent those 2 years doing trying to find Viren but lets list a few things we know (from when she breaks Runnan out of prison); She had to say goodbye to her birth parents who she thought she was going to bring back from Virens coin, is banished from her home and cannot go back and is basically determined to have some form of stability in her life. Quick note, Rayla and Callum are not concerned about Aravos because they think he's still in the pearly.
Rayla has made a lot of impulsive decisions throughout the show and it should be expected that she would betray Ezran's trust and make things difficult for Callum to prioritise the need to get AT LEAST ONE OF HER PARENTS HOME SAFELY. Her mind was an utter blur and filled with emotion she didn't know how to express. The only thing Rayla wanted to do was solve the problem. TAKE ACTION on the one thing that's making her feel that way. She's done it before and will continue to do it.
So to sum up watching that scene and processing it, you need to understand all sides. The emotion, the determination and challenges that came across the three of them. It gave their characters development and gave us an opportunity to explore WHY the characters feel the way they feel or make the choices they choose to make. It was never a "right or wrong" thing but more so gaining growth and maturity that decisions need to be made regardless of how painful it may be.
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