#also because no one is EVER gonna know this

[space929]

Obviously, first thing is that it doesn't fricking matter what other people want to be called. Does it hurt you? No? Okay, then use it. It's the mildest of inconveniences to change the way your brain thinks - an inconvenience that will do nothing but help you as you better your ability to reflect on yourself and decide who you want to be. It will help you develop empathy and make you more appealing to the people you actually want to be around. If you are nice and respectful, people will be nice and respectful to you. It's an inconvenience where the only downside is the shame and guilt developed when you learn to do better, but that will be there either way. It's just that you won't take it out on others in one.

Anyway, since we've done that, let's talk about grammar, my favorite subject in the world.

That makes it sound like I go around correcting everyone on anything, but I promise I don't, for reasons we'll get into in a minute.

Since I adore this topic, I'm gonna give you my full grammar rant. Because I'm evil and I want everyone to enjoy this. I'm not perfect with this. I'm just a trans creative writer with a knack for chaos and a love of sociology.

So often, especially in school, it's treated like a list of unchanging rules that you need to follow else your essay be banished to the depths of the ocean and utilized as what to never do.

This isn't how it works. I promise. Grammar is fluid. It isn't inherent or scientific. If you want something scientific involving it, there's sociolinguistics, the wonderful study of how society interacts with language. It's very interesting, and I recommend checking it out, but it only influences how grammar works. Like all branches of sociology, it's based around people. We change, and our communication isn't immune to that. So that is ever developing and grammar is ever changing.

Linguists study how people communicate and turn that into grammar rules and guidelines. It isn't how we "should" communicate, it's how we do. It's made to help us understand each other. It changes by region. It changes by year. It changes by how people talk to you because it literally doesn't matter most of the time. They're guidelines - if something outside of supposed proper grammar makes more sense, you use that instead so people know what you're talking about.

People who say stuff like the above have clearly never read a fictional book because every creative writer ignores some grammar guidelines in order to build emotion or tone or suspense or character. It's just how you write.

Also, singular they/them is grammatically correct. Because grammar doesn't matter but also because it's been used that way since literally 1375.

And if you want to make the argument that something that's commonly used isn't necessarily proper grammar - a valid argument, considering that I've been making that this entire time - it was also named Merriam-Webster's 2019 word of the year. So it's literally that way in the dictionary. It is proper as well.

But let's be real here: these people don't care about these facts, and I will prove it. Skip the next paragraph if you hate grammar police, I know I do, I just want to make a point.

They/them isn't a full sentence and has no period after it. Most grammar states that one and two should be spelled out - there is debate about whether that goes up to ten or 100 (I'm sure you can tell which I use), but I've never seen one that says to use 1 and 2 for such small numbers. Those rules are so, so annoying, and I will hate them to the end of time, but it's fine because I'm proving a point. "That's unmathematical." Is also not a full sentence. It doesn't have a verb. It has a pronoun and an adjective. But no verb. I think the last one is right, though contradictory to their own point, so kudos to them.

Okay, now that I'm out of my villain arc, I want to apologize for the emotional distress I may have caused. I would not have done it if I didn't deem the hypocrisy worth acknowledging.

I also understand that they never specifically stated that this was a grammar issue, but I mean. I think this argument is regurgitated enough for me to utilize this to make a point.

Now, to end my grammar rant. Use grammar if you wish. Don't if you don't. I don't care. Grammar is subjective 90% of the time.

But whatever you do, don't pretend that grammar is some unchanging science that will cause the world to crumble if we ever dared to change the plurality of a word.

That would be a really fragile world. That would be a really dumb world. That's not how any of this works. That's just... incorrect on every possible level.

If you like grammar, use it correctly. Don't use your powers for evil. Use them to create the chaos that we feast upon as we find new ways to break every last guideline in the book, ending with the society that we live in as rules become meaningless.

Also, no one tell these people about Cormac McCarthy. They might explode.

Aren't people just tired of dying on this hill?

It's not about you, it's about them and if someone wants their pronouns to be they/them, get over it.

[rebelfell]

reindeer games┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

we’re gonna call this a belated holiday blurb 🎄

cw: no smut, but there’s allusions to mutual masturbation, and just an abundance of filthy flirting b/c these two simply can’t help themselves. eddie’s look is inspired by this (nsfw) freaking incredible art by @safk-art.

18+, MDNI┃2.2k

You’ve never been a fan of these calendar shoots.

It takes practically the entire day and the studio is packed full because they bring in just about every performer under contract to participate.

It’s loud and chaotic, lots of PAs running back and forth with the most random assortment of props you’ve ever seen. And it’s stifling hot with all the bustling bodies, equipment and lightboxes, flash bulbs going off every five seconds.

Right now there’s a few girls in Victoria’s Secret-esque getups with feathery angel wings being cupids for February, while two more covered in glittery body paint are getting ready to pose in a cauldron to be a “pot of gold” for March. After them, it’ll be girls in big yellow rain boots with matching caps and nothing else spraying one another with a hose for April. 

The remaining months are still in the process of being set up, backdrops being changed out and lighting adjusted. On the furthest wall, there’s a big board with everyone’s assignments and the various call times as well as mock-ups of each concept and who will participate in the photo.

You’ve already visited the board and deduced your first stop will be the wardrobe department so you can get your costume. You’ve also noted that a certain someone will likely be finishing up his turn at the make-up mirror right around the same time you’re done being fitted.

When you emerge from behind the curtained off area set up for people to change, yours eyes meet Eddie’s across all the chaos and he’s immediately getting up from his chair, striding towards you.

Your body can’t help but react to his presence, despite your best efforts to keep your face neutral and squash the urge to run directly into his arms.

You might’ve thought it had been days or weeks since you saw him, rather than mere hours. You might’ve thought you woke up that morning on opposite coasts rather than with your naked limbs entwined and tangled up in your bedsheets. You might’ve thought he was some kind of long lost lover whose face was fading from memory the way your heart leapt just from seeing him.

Still, you know you can’t greet him the way you want to. Not with all these people around.

Word has yet to get around about you two, and you intend to keep it that way. The current theory is that what happened at the awards was just a fluke—a random, drunken, one-night thing. 

(A one-night thing that’s led to the best weeks of your life, but that’s neither here nor there.)

You’re meant to be playing it cool, keeping things professional, still holding all your cards decidedly close to your vests, at least for the time being.

But Eddie's not exactly making it easy.

He lets his dressing gown slip open slightly as he walks over, showing off a little more of the top of his chest and his thick, muscular neck where it meets his pronounced collarbones.

Slut, you think with the utmost affection.

The boy certainly makes for a cute Rudolph.

He’s snagged the coveted December slot, and the creative director has chosen a bondage theme—hence the body harness they’ve got him in under his thin robe, as well as a collar with jingling gold bells and a pair of antlers on top of his mop of unruly curls. For the picture, he’s also going to be tied up with Christmas lights, struggling against the illuminated ties while you and the rest of the ‘reindeer’ stand around him laughing and teasing him mercilessly for his bright red ‘nose.’

You imagine that’s what he was in the chair for, getting the head of his dick painted with deep scarlet rouge so it’ll look like it’s shining.

It’s all seems like a bit much, but even you have to admit you’re excited to see the end result.

He scans up and down with those mischievous eyes, all the while having to resist the urge to slip his hands around your waist and pull you into him, showing you just how redundant you’ve made the Viagra he popped earlier. He should have known he wouldn’t even need it once you were on set.

He snaps his fingers and points, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Let me guess…Vixen?” 

The bells on the collar around your neck jingle as you smile and shake your head.

“More like Dancer,” you replied lowly, dropping to a breathy whisper when he got close enough to hear. “Or did you forget last night already?”

“Not forgetting that anytime soon,” he promised in a husky whisper of his own.

You shiver at his words as they trickle down your back, and you can almost feel his hands on you exactly as they were the night before—fingers splayed wide to hold onto as much of you as possible when he reached out for your ass.

The dance had started out innocently enough, as a brainstorming session for your next project, only for it to devolve as it often did these days into you attacking one another once one or both of you could no longer restrain yourselves. The pretense of you as a stripper giving your security guard a lap dance as thanks for chasing away a handsy creep fell away, along with your clothes.

This newfound aspect of your relationship was certainly inspiring a lot of ideas, but it had proved to be more of a hindrance to your work ethic than anything else. Still, you couldn’t be too broken up about it. Not when you’re having the best sex of your personal and professional life combined.

“Not forgetting this anytime soon, either,” Eddie adds, still staring raptly at your costume.

You and the other girls are dressed pretty simply in matching brown teddies and antlers of your own, plus collars similar to Eddie’s. They’re also going to paint your faces to look more like deer, with cute little noses and tiny white freckles and extra-long lashes. And yeah, it’s a little silly. But the way a certain pair of bright brown eyes are pouring over you right now…it’s well worth it.

“Hey…think you get to keep this?” he asks quietly, carefully fingering the marabou trim.

“Unlikely,” you frown and then eye him coyly. “But Tina might let me borrow it…assuming it’ll be returned to her in pristine condition.”

Eddie hisses softly through his teeth and his head quickly shakes back and forth.

“Yeeeeah, I can’t guarantee that,” he chuckles.

You deliver a light swat to his chest. Not too flirty, but not strictly platonic either. Though, it’s times like these that make you wonder why you bother.

Anyone looking on could probably see straight through your paltry attempt to act disinterested, and you’ve already started getting third degrees from some of your friends in the industry who have seen the massage tape.

Almost as soon as it was came out, you were being bombarded. People were quick to praise the chemistry between you and your co-star, but they were even quicker to drop their voices to a hushed and conspiring whisper as they asked what was ‘going on’ between you two.

And when you tried to say it was nothing or that you were just friends…it didn’t exactly go over.

You’re joking, right? Nah, no one is that good an actor, babe. The man is fully obsessed with you. Just look at his face when he—

So, yeah, okay, word was likely going to get out. But it wasn’t going to be today.

Right now, you just had to focus on taking this photo and getting through the rest of the day so you could spend the rest of your night with the adorable creature standing before you.

“I’m headed for make-up,” you offer. And in a lightning-quick move, you reach out to squeeze his arm, then swipe at it gently like you were just brushing off a piece of lint for him.

Very discreet. So covert.

Eddie tucks his chin to his chest as he nods, his eyes still roving over you and your skin he can see through the sheer material. You move to walk past him, letting your hip graze decidedly against his.

“Smile pretty,” you whisper under your breath.

It’s not too much longer before they’re calling people over for your shot and instructing Eddie to get in position first. He drops his gown and sinks to his knees in the center of the frame, hard and freshly pumped cock bobbing between his thighs. The fake polyester snow on the floor provides at least a little cushioning, and the red on his head looks extra bright against the sparkly white.

The effect is…extremely distracting. 

Even knowing it’s just make-up, as is the fake cum dribbling from his tip, your mind swirls with recent memories of his cock looking just like this in real life—his own fist wrapped tight around it, sliding up and down in long, even strokes; your dresser rattling as he leans on it for support while you lay with your legs splayed wide in your bed, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit.

His eyes meet yours briefly and from the way they flash, you’re certain he’s remembering it too.

Once the photographer is happy with Eddie’s placement, the PAs come to tie his hands behind his back. They wind the strands of lights around his arms and torso up to his shoulders, draping them across his chest and then crossing them behind his back. Two of the girls are given the ends to hold so he looks like he’s hog-tied.

The light bounces prettily off his pale skin that glows a rosy pink, and you make a mental note to shoot him in similar lighting. Soon.

Maybe you’ll do something like this, but with just the Christmas lights. Him in your bed, his delicate wrists tied to your headboard, those soft rainbow lights the only color in the darkened room aside from that of a deep, cool blue winter night…

Okay, seriously. You’ve got to stop.

You’re at work, don’t forget.

Luckily, they’re placing the rest of you now and you’re brought into the foreground to stand next to Eddie. The two of you exchange another look as they fine tune the lighting, and you shoot him the subtlest wink you can manage. It’s short, so quick he nearly misses it, but it’s all he needs to be absolutely certain his dick will stay hard for the remainder of the shoot. Maybe the whole day.

He’s only vaguely aware of the girls standing behind him, or all the people crowded in behind the camera. Once they start shooting, his vision tunnels until all that’s left in focus is you.

The only thing he knows is it’s probably a good thing his hands are tied. Because the way you’re looking, he could not be held responsible for where his hands would wander if they were free. 

Eddie gives himself over to the character he’s meant to be playing, and it’s really not all that hard acting pathetic and desperate for you. The lights he’s all tangled up in tighten as the girls holding either end pull them taut, and the room fills with their giggling as they laugh at him.

But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have any idea what the rest of the reindeer are doing. All he can focus any of his attention on is you in that damn teddy, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger to make him look at you, smirking like he’s a piece of dirt you wouldn’t let lick your kneecap, let alone anything more erogenous, no matter how hard he begged you for it.

Yet somehow, he’s only more eager to try.

He knows they have the shot they want almost immediately, but they go through a few more poses just to have options. In one, they have you stand with one of your heels planted on Eddie’s chest and if you stay like that much longer, the fake cum on his tip is gonna have company.

Finally, they’re satisfied and there’s a great deal of droning chatter that sort of fades into static as they start to move on to the next shoot.

The rest of the girls wander off, but you kneel and start to unwrap the strands of Christmas lights for him. And they weren’t that tight, but you still massage his wrists once they’re freed and lean in close to his ear so you can whisper how well he did. His cock kicks up all over again at your gentle doting and he wonders if you’ll keep this up tonight at hom—your place.

Once he’s freed, you start to wind up the lights in your hand and glance around for the PAs who are nowhere to be found. You then push the coil into Eddie’s hands and give him a level look.

“See if you can sneak those out,” you instruct him with a smirk. “I’ve got plans for them later.”

ty for reading, merry late whatever-you-celebrate! ❄️💋

[wonderjanga]

Cap Being A Dad

Just some more dad Marvel because why not. I love writing it.

Marvel: *catches KD trying to shave his face* “What are you doing?”

Kid Flash: *has entirely too much shaving cream on his face* “Uh… nothing?”

Marvel: “Are you… trying to shave your face?”

Kid Flash: “…Yes.”

Marvel: *stares* “Is there even anything to shave?”

Kid Flash: “Wha- WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”

Marvel: “Nothing! My bad. I meant no offense. Do you need help, by the way? You have like five cuts on your face.”

Kid Flash: “No!” *looks to the mirror and sees the cuts* “Well, maybe. Also, how can you tell? I have all this shit on my face.”

Marvel: “Some of the shit- I mean, stuff is pink. Anyways, do you like want some pointers?”

Kid Flash: “I…” *just gives up at this point* “Sure.”

Marvel: “Great! Put that down.” *wipes off some of the shaving cream from Wally’s face*

Kid Flash: “The razor?”

Marvel: “Yes, that. We’re going to be using this.” *puts hand into pocket dimension and whips out this shit*

That’s how, with Solomon’s help and a bit of Billy’s own memory of seeing his dad, Marvel successfully taught Kid Flash how to shave. Fun fact: after this, Wally wasn’t able to shave with a modern day razor ever again. He’ll cut his face 5 million times but for some reason, with the version Marvel gave him, he’s absolutely perfect.

or

Marvel: “Alright, so driving is pretty simple.”

Robin!Tim: “You sure?”

Marvel: “Yup! Now hit the gas pedal.”

Robin!Tim: *floors it* “Aren’t I supposed to buckle my seatbelt first?”

Marvel: “What? Don’t you know those are just for show? Anyways, you’re doing great! Now make sure not to hit anything.”

After a couple minutes…

Robin!Tim: “This actually reminds me a lot of driving the Batmobile.” *swerves out of the way of a honking truck*

Marvel: “In what way?”

Robin!Tim: “This is exactly how Batman drives in it! I honestly thought driving as a civilian would make it so that you’d have to be more cautious but wow!”

They got pulled over like five minutes later. They were then sent to jail, full costumes mind you. They even got mug shots. Marvel pulled the Ken mugshot pose while Tim did the “Blue Steel” Dean Winchester one. Batman had to bail them both out. Also, yes, this is connected to my Who Let Him Drive?! post.

or

JL and YJ: *at the beach*

Marvel: “I’m good guys.” *sits down, letting out a little oof*

YJ: We’re literally at the beach. Don’t tell us you’re just gonna sit there.

Marvel: “I, in fact, am.” *pulls out newspaper and starts reading*

Him and Batman were content to just sit in beach chairs, sipping virgin Mojitos together while Marvel read the paper and Batman did something on a tablet. Also, I know this isn’t necessarily dad Marvel, but my father, whenever it came to water, would just be like “Go on ahead, I’ll join you eventually” he would say as he got out the paper, lying straight to my face because he would never join.

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Husband! & Dad!Arthur Morgan headcanons 🥰 idk about this but some people seemed to love the one where reader is pregnant so 👉🏼👈🏼 thank you!!! <3

no warnings, just fluff, mentions of Christianity, f!Reader

from the way he talked to the bath girls, it seems like he’s someone who’d talk to you about how hard his day has been :( he secretly likes to be babied fr!!!

might not be used to having someone listen to him yap at first with his “alright, I’ll shut up now.” But you INSIST on hearing his crazy stories and he smiles, tries to keep going even though he feels bad.

that was the beginning of the relationship. Now he goes straight home to you all, “honey, you would never believe-” and you could tell the gossip is gonna be juicy.

Arthur “loyal” Morgan getting blackout drunk and rejecting you because he’s married. I need him desperately.

“You must have a feller,” he smirks, eyes half lidded and his ‘r’s all slurred.

“Mhm, I do. A very handsome one too,” you played along.

“I got a beautiful wife m’self,” he smiles wide, leaning forward and almost falling. “I’d marry you if I didn’t.”

though you aren’t religious, you tell Arthur that you end up quite lucky in life because you were christened as a baby. You asked him if your baby could go through christening as well, wanting them to have a good start in life with protection from God.

he was still paying off his bounties at the time. Seeing his fate in the past, he decided to agree.

“What the hell, why not,” he said, surprising you. “As long as it ain’t done by Swanson.” He needs all the luck he could get.

HIM AS A GIRL DAD OUGHHHH

I feel like he gets these spontaneous outbursts sometimes? He can be a lil grumpy but his baby daughter would definitely soften that.

imagine him suddenly getting angry at something she did and she starts crying :( it would ABSOLUTELY break his heart and he’d panic every time :(((

“I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry baby girl..” “y’know I didn’t mean that right?” “Please stop crying darlin’ :(”

might also make her cry from his awful, terrible teasing and his stupid “oh c’mon, I’m just messin’ with ya!” He’s so mean sometimes booo

speaking of mean, I just know he’d be the sassiest, judgiest, snarkiest man when his daughter brings home a partner. Imagine the Kieran treatment…………

maybe not if it’s a girlfriend. If it’s a boyfriend? Poor guy will have to prove himself good enough for Arthur’s baby!!!

don’t worry, he’ll soften up when he remembers how he used to be treated by Mary’s dad HAHA

the Morgan house probably has lots of pets! I don’t think he would mind the strays that you and the kids just randomly bring home.

he’d just call them “girl” or “boy” (boah!) and you’d have to fix him or all of them comes over at the same time.

he probably draws his family a lot or takes pictures!!! All of his family’s photos on the walls, by his bedside table, in his journal for when he travels :(((((((

he would only travel when he needs to! Gets very anxious and worried and tries to go home as quick as possible even if it means not sleeping :(

he can sleep later in your arms for as long as you’d let him anyway!!! (Secretly a small spoon sometimes, deal with it)

the biggest sigh of relief when he hears his family welcoming him, when he sees them running to him, when he feels them hugging him (I’m sobbing)

from how the girls at camp make him take them somewhere or get them things, you can tell he’s probably gonna be such a pushover for his little family omg

you can ask him to do the craziest things you could think of (he’s done much worse anyway!!!) but this time his payment is just one “please?” And he would do just about anything for his family :(

he’d never admit it — not even to himself — but your smiles are more rewarding than any money he’s ever received <3

my masterlist

Thank you for reading!! 🫶🏼

[licorishh]

double ?? upload ???? yeaaaahh i've gotten FASTERRrr for whatever that's worth so complementary blyla because guess what i miss them too (nobody was surprised by that)

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

i know i'm young, but my mind is well beyond my years ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

age gap! jason x neighbourhood sweetheart puppy! reader

jason todd smut

jason todd was significantly older than you, the age visible by his sharp jawline, slight stubble and biceps that men your age possibly couldn’t have. he was never one to date or even get laid, but seeing you prance around as the neighbourhood sweetheart in your little mini dresses, you caught his attention. you seemed so innocent, eyes so wide like a puppy who has never heard the word no, a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

so when you followed him like a little puppy, pestering him to try the cookies you’ve baked just for him because according to you, a guy like him deserved something sweet too. “come on jay,” you beamed shoving the tray of your baked goods towards him softly, “try some.”

how could he say no when you looked at him like he hung the stars in the night sky?

the moment he placed the cookie in his mouth he was pretty damn sure your grin widened again, a small infectious giggle coming out of your mouth. with wide eyes you stared at him expectantly, fluttering your lashes at him.

“so? how was it? delicious right?”

it was great, the flavours melted on his tongue, and he felt like a child sneakily eating his mum’s cookies without her permission. “good,” he shrugged nonchalantly before taking the tray.

that was when you became attached at the hip with him, and also when he started fucking you.

**

”m-mph, jay,” you whined as he thrust you on his lap, his large arms wrapped around your smaller frame as he drilled into you. he knew it was wrong, you were significantly younger than him and were just doing a good deed by being nice to him.

jason couldn’t help it, every time you skipped towards him, your hair swaying in the wind and how the breeze would ever so slightly lift up your skirt giving him a glimpse of your panties, he would go insane. hence why the neighbourhood's little sweetheart was bouncing on his lap, letting out the most lewd sounds. “gonna come soon sweetheart?” jason cooed as one of his hands gently pushed away the strands of hair stuck to your forehead. you nodded with a pout, your pretty pink glossed lips jutting out, “y-yeah!” you whined pathetically.

god, it was adorable how drunk you got on his cock.

“clenchin so hard around me sweetheart,” he groaned when your slick walls squeezed around his cock, making him twitch slightly. “j-jay,” mumbled as you clung onto him for dear life.

“i know sweetheart, you’ve been good today with your cookies so ‘m gonna let you come alright?” the echoes of his balls hitting your round ass filled the room. “thanks j-jay!”

a low chuckle escaped his lips, you were just perfect, always so willing and obedient to let you do what he wanted. you were so goddamn easy to please, he was pretty damn sure one finger would’ve made you babble about how grateful you were. maybe one day he would let you ride his boot whilst he worked in the garage.

“my cock too big for you sweetheart?” he cooed softly as he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, hair sticking to your forehead. you shook your head desperately, “can take it,” you whined as you bounced even harder to reinforce that.

jason chuckled at how eager you were to prove yourself, “i don’t doubt that one bit, bouncin’ on me like a little bunny.” it was a sight really. the neighbourhood sweetheart who grew up in a sheltered house away from any impurities now bouncing on his cock that was way too big for her, the small bulge visible through her stomach. “does seem like it is too big sweetheart,” he tested the waters to see how you would react, wondering if you would bounce even harder.

“c-can take it,” you whined desperately as your ass cheeks slapped against his strong thighs. “can take it like a good girl hm?” he teased as he held onto you tightly. “y-yeah!”

you were just the most adorable sight he’s ever seen, your pretty tits bouncing with the slightest flush of pink on your pretty little cheeks whilst your face was scrunched up.

fuck being the neighbourhood sweetheart, you were his sweetheart.

and he would remind you of that every single damn time he made you come.

[battleofbojeremoments]

Battle of bojere moments 2024 - The final results 🙌🤩❤️‍🔥

Whew! It's been an intense two weeks, huh? I've loved reading your tags in the polls, full of screaming, crying, throwing up, as it should be. All these bojere moments deserve no less.

But without further ado, let's move on to the results. The Final Match was actually insane because hear me out: the winner won by just ONE vote. ONE VOTE.

I'm very pleased to announce that THE WINNER of the Battle of Bojere Moments 2024 is........

🥇 VKV hug 🥇

This bojere moment really stole the hearts of sad bojere bitches with its unexpected, pure display of affection. Who even does that? Who goes to hug someone mid-song at their own concert? Bojan does. And who would he do it with, but his very own Jerč. Only Jerč.

Next, the contestant that is more than worthy of its second place, that lost the crown by just ONE VOTE, is........

🥈 Cyprus reveal 🥈

This moment will go down in the history books as one of the bojere moments that truly changed lives. When the screams of sad bojere bitches echoed around the world as one. Legends say that these screams travelled even faster than light that day and you can hear them whenever you encounter any version of this Cyprus reveal moment.

This leaves us with the bojere moment that fought hard for its third and place. This moment is.......

🥉 The best thing that ever happened to me 🥉

Who even says that to anyone, let alone to their supposed braderrrrr? Jere did. To Bojan. Jere said that to Bojan, and since Bojan threw a Uno reverse card on the table, the feeling is indeed very mutual.

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

Also, I can't not mention the one bojere moments that just fell short of the podium: Minun ukkelini & meidän rakas huone. Fourth place is still an incredible result, given how often bojere went too far last year. Let's give it some love!🙌❤️

And lastly, let's not forget the three bojere moments that received honorable mentions: The ones that truly deserved better 😔✊ They all did tbh :(((

1st place: Puppy Bojan in Jere's childhood home 🫳🐶🥰

2nd place: Damn I miss @ paidatonriehuja VKV hug repost 🥹🫂❤️

3rd place: Is Bojan here?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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

Thank you so much to everyone who took part in the polls! Without you, this battle would've been just me crying alone in front of a screen in a dark room ❤️

How do you feel about the results? Was this your top 3? Which other moments deserved better in your opinion?

Stay tuned for The Battle of Bojere Moments 2023. Is it gonna be bigger? Maybe. Better? Maybe. But what I know for sure is that that battle might just be the end of us.

But it will still be worth it in the end.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER EIGHT ━━ Be You, Be Great

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.2K

❀ ━ warnings: angst, mentions of a panic attack/anxiety, underage drinking

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: this one is kinda all over the place i was gonna split it in two but i tried and i didn’t like that either so here this is anyways. also not proofread at all soooo

THE END of October brings a drought. Not the kind that wilts leaves or cracks the ground, but one that seeps into Jo’s chest and leaves her feeling parched in a way she can’t quite explain. It’s been weeks now since things between her and Paige started drying up, and, no matter how much Jo tries to ignore it, to act like everything’s fine, the ache of it gnaws at her.

It started just before Paige went back to LA and only worsened when she was there. All Jo got from her was clipped texts and dodged FaceTimes scattered with weak excuses about being busy with rehab. Jo had tried not to overthink it, convincing herself Paige was genuinely overwhelmed and that things would go back to normal when she came home.

They didn’t.

Paige still avoids her—not entirely, of course, because they live together, and avoiding her completely would be impossible. But she’s rarely in the apartment anymore, and when she is, it’s brief and transactional. She’s quiet during their rare interactions, offering half-hearted “hey”s and “what’s up”s before dispersing into her room or heading out the door again.

It’s just so different to how things used to be. Before, Jo could count on Paige to be there—physically, emotionally, all of it. They’d talk about anything and everything, share late-night snacks on the couch, or marathon stupid shows just because they could. Paige was Jo’s favorite person to spend time with. But now, it’s like there’s been a complete flip of a switch.

What makes it worse is the not-knowing. Jo has no idea why Paige is pulling back, why she’s suddenly so distant. She’s racked her brain trying to figure it out, wondering if she said or did something wrong. The thought of it eats at her, but she’s too afraid to bring it up. She’s terrified of making it worse or of Paige telling her something she doesn’t want to hear.

So, she says nothing.

Instead, she busies herself with other people. Ice, for one, has been in a bad place ever since dislocating her knee a few weeks ago. She’s out for the season, and Jo knows all too well how isolating that kind of injury can be. She’s been spending a lot of time with her, trying to cheer her up, keep her distracted. It’s been good for both of them, but not the same.

Nothing is the same without Paige.

And Jo knows that Paige is probably out hooking up with other girls most nights—she’s not stupid. Paige never brings anyone back to their apartment, which Jo is grateful for, but the idea of it still stings in a way she can’t explain. It’s probably just the principle of it, that Paige can go out and entertain these other girls every night while simultaneously acting like Jo doesn’t exist.

And this stupid drought lingers even under the bright lights of Gampel.

It’s First Night, the annual event kicking off the basketball season, and the whole arena is packed. The men’s and women’s teams have been split into two groups for the evening’s competitions, with Andre Jackson and Paige as the respective captains. Jo is on Andre’s team.

The evening kicks off with a dizzying mix of games, dances, and contests, the crowd roaring with every half-court shot and mascot stunt. Jo participates in a few challenges with her team, laughing when Andre attempts to dunk it over one of their managers and fails spectacularly.

It’s fun. It should be fun. But Jo can’t help but feel the weight of Paige’s attention—or lack thereof—throughout the night.

When the three-point contest rolls around, Jo is the last to go. Her name gets called, and the crowd cheers for their new freshman. She steps into her corner, shaking her limbs out. She doesn’t look at Paige—can’t, really—but, somehow, she still feels her gaze from where she stands at half-court. Jo doesn’t know how or why she always seems to register it, but the feeling is continuously at the edge of her awareness.

The contest is a blur. Jo doesn’t miss much, her muscle memory doing most of the work, and when the buzzer sounds, Andre and her teammates swarm her, lifting her arms in victory. She grins, basking in the win of it, but her eyes inevitably find Paige.

The blonde is clapping along with the rest of her team, grinning wide and hyping up the crowd, but when her gaze flicks to Jo, something shutters behind her eyes. She doesn’t approach, doesn’t tease her about beating her team. Doesn’t say a single word.

It hurts more than it should.

Jo retreats back to the sidelines, the cheers still echoing in her ears, though her head has started to hurt a little. Since the day she got here, Paige was always the first to hype her up—always the loudest voice in the room for her. Clearly not anymore.

The rest of the event passes in a haze. Jo keeps up with the energy of her team, but her chest feels heavy, weighed down by everything unsaid and unknown. By the time the night ends, she’s exhausted—not from the competition, but from the effort of pretending that everything’s normal and fine.

As the crowd filters out and the teams gather for a final photo, Jo finds herself standing a few feet from Paige. The photographers are shouting directions, rearranging players into rows, but Jo hardly listens. She risks a glance at Paige, who’s laughing at something Alex Karaban just said, her smile radiant and gummy and perfect under the bright arena lights.

But when Paige’s eyes meet Jo’s, probably having sensed her creepy staring, the smile falters. It’s brief—barely noticeable—but Jo sees it. She feels it. And it twists something deep in her chest.

Jo doesn’t know what she did to deserve this distance, but it’s killing her. Whatever is going on with Paige, clearly it might be bigger than anything Jo can fix.

And as much as she hates to admit it, Jo’s starting to wonder if Paige even wants her to try.

IT’S THE first game of the season—a guaranteed blowout against Northeastern—and the energy around campus is full of excitement. Paige should be, too. The start of a new season is always her favorite time of year, a chance to do what she loves most and remind herself why she worked so hard to get here. But this year, it feels more like a countdown to a role she doesn’t want to play.

Paige knows she should be grateful. Grateful that her recovery has gone smoothly so far. Grateful that she’s still part of the team she’s always dreamed of playing for, even if it’s from the sidelines. But sitting out isn’t what she was built for. She misses the adrenaline of the game, the weight of the ball in her hands, the feeling of sneakers skidding across the court as she runs a fast break. She misses the pressure—real pressure—and the way it forces her into focus like nothing else. Without it, she feels… aimless.

So, she’s determined to channel her energy elsewhere. If she can’t play, she’ll hype. She’ll coach. She’ll be Coach P, the way everyone loves her to be. It’s easier that way. Easier to focus on everyone else than to deal with the mess she’s made for herself.

Jo is a big part of that mess.

Paige hasn’t spent a single night in their apartment since she got back to LA—not one. It’s not like she doesn’t want to. She misses the way things were before, how easy and natural it was to be around Jo before everything got so damn complicated. But the thought of sitting in bed with Jo beside her, watching a movie or eating takeout like they always did, feels like far too much.

So, she stays away. She’s made a habit of bouncing between other people’s beds—random girls whose names she barely remembers by the morning. Paige has always been a little reckless when it comes to that stuff, but lately, it’s spiraled into something worse. A distraction. A way to drown out the feelings she doesn’t want to deal with.

But even in that, she’s careful. She doesn’t bring anyone back to her and Jo’s apartment—not after Jo saw Celeste sneaking out during the summer. Paige doesn’t want to do that—doesn’t want Jo to be dragged into her mess.

Paige tells herself she’s protecting both of them by keeping her distance. If she gives herself a little more time, maybe the feelings will face. Maybe they’ll go back to being normal, just friends, the way they’re supposed to be.

But the truth is, Paige doesn’t think it’s working.

She still catches herself watching Jo during practice, noting things she shouldn’t. The way her hair falls into her face when she’s running drills. The soft laugh she lets out whenever Nika says something characteristically stupid. The way she moves on the court—so quick and sharp, like she’s always a step ahead of everyone else. It makes Paige’s stomach flip in a way she hates.

And the more time that’s passed, the more Paige has wondered if she’s just fooling herself. That maybe these feelings aren’t going anywhere at all. That maybe this is just who she is now—stuck and restless, with a hopelessly crush on her roommate, teammate, someone who’s supposed to be her best friend.

She shakes the thought off as she walks into Gampel for shoot-around. Her teammates laugh and joke as they warm up, excited. Paige pulls on her best version of normal, slinging her arm around Azzi and teasing Nika about her taped-up finger.

It works for a while. Her voice rings out as she cheers for Lou’s perfect three-pointer, then for Aaliyah’s easy layup. She’s Paige—bright and loud and focused on everyone but herself.

Afterward, the team files back into the locker room, their chatter bouncing off the walls. Paige trails behind, mentally cataloging what she’ll say during the pregame huddle. But when she glances around the room, she realizes something’s missing.

Someone’s missing.

Jo isn’t there.

It’s not entirely unusual for Jo to slip away for a few minutes—she’s probably grabbing water or something. But Paige’s chest tightens anyway. She leans toward Ice, who’s scrolling through her phone on the bench.

“Hey, you seen Jo?” Paige asks, trying to sound casual.

Ice shrugs without looking up. “She couldn’t have gone far.” Then she glances at Paige, and gives her a look. Her eyebrows lift just enough to make the blonde feel like she’s been caught in a lie she hasn’t even told yet.

Paige’s jaw clenches. She straightens and brushes it off with a quick, “Thanks,” ignoring the unspoken why do you care now? hanging in Ice’s expression.

She slips out of the locker room before anyone else can ask questions, her sneakers squeaking faintly on the polished floor. The back hallways of Gampel are quiet except for the muffled sound of the crowd filtering in through the concrete walls. Paige assumes Jo’s probably just off clearing her head.

But then she hears it.

It’s faint at first, just a sharp, broken sound that makes her pause mid-step. She tilts her head, frowning as she listens harder. For a moment, there’s nothing, just the distant murmur of the arena. Then it comes again—a soft, muffled sob.

Paige stills.

Her chest tightens as she slowly scans the hallway, her eyes narrowing. She knows that sound. It’s raw, unfiltered, the kind of cry that comes from deep inside. Her feet move before she can think, her pulse quickening as she rounds another corner.

And there, huddled in a little alcove off to the side, is Jo.

Her head is buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling violently as her chest heaves with shallow, rapid breaths. Even from a few feet away, Paige can see how hard she’s struggling, her whole body curling in on itself as if trying to disappear.

Paige stops dead in her tracks.

She doesn’t know what to do. Jo isn’t supposed to look like this—broken and vulnerable and so completely unlike herself. Jo’s the happiest, brightest, smiliest person she’s ever met. But here she is, falling apart right in front of Paige, and it feels like the air’s been sucked out of the hallway.

“Jo?” Paige asks softly, hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

Jo’s head snaps up, her tear-streaked face whipping toward Paige in a startled panic. Her wide, glassy eyes lock on hers for a split second before she looks away, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her warm-ups.

“It’s fine,” Jo blurts, her voice cracking as she waves Paige off. “’M fine. Nothing’s wrong. Just—it’s okay. You can go.”

But Paige isn’t going anywhere.

She steps closer slowly, cautiously, her heart pounding as she watches Jo’s chest rise and fall too quickly, her breathe shallow and uneven. Jo’s hands tremble where they’re clenched in her lap, her knuckles white, and Paige begins to recognize the signs.

“Jo,” Paige says again, firmer this time. She crouches slightly, trying to meet Jo’s gaze. “Hey, it’s okay. You can talk to me. I’m here.”

Jo shakes her head violently, her lips trembling as she stares down at her hands. “I don’t—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she stammers, her voice shaking. “I just—I can’t—” She breaks off, gasping for air as another sob wracks her body.

Paige’s stomach twists. She drops to one knee, her hand hovering awkwardly near Jo’s arm before she finally touches her, rubbing gentle circles on Jo’s sleeve. “Hey, hey, just breathe,” she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady even though she feels like she’s about to unravel herself. “Slow and deep, yeah? Just breathe with me.”

But Jo can’t. Her breaths are too fast, too shallow, and the tears keep coming, spilling down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Jo chokes out. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why—I don’t know why I’m like this. Maybe it’s because I forgot to take my anxiety meds today, or—or maybe it’s just everything. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Paige says gently, nodding even though she feels completely out of her depth. “Okay. That’s okay. Just take your time.”

Jo sniffles, and Paige watches as the younger girl’s nails dig into the fabric of her warm-up pants. “I’m just so nervous,” she admits, her words coming out in a frantic, breathless rush. “Even though I know—it’s so stupid, I know—we’re gonna win by, like, forty points. But I can’t stop thinking about. I don’t wanna mess up. I don’t wanna disappoint anyone.”

Paige’s heart cracks a little more with every word, though she knows it’s not entirely abnormal for a freshman to feel this way. That doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want Jo to feel this way.

The brunette’s breathing stilts again, her voice rising a little as she continues. “Especially not you,” she says. The words come out so soft, so sad, that Paige almost doesn’t hear them. “I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

Paige opens her mouth to say something, but Jo keeps going, her voice trembling as fresh tears begin to fill her eyes. “I—I know I’ve disappointed you—or—or made you mad,” she stumbles, her breath hitting on a quiet sob. “I had to have, right? Because, I mean—why—why else would you be ignoring me?”

Paige’s heart stutters at the words.

Jo’s tear-filled eyes finally meet hers, and Paige is struck by how wide and vulnerable, like every signal wall Jo has ever built is crumbling down. Her lip trembles as she whispers, “What did I do to make you hate me, Paige?”

The question lingers in the air, hanging heavy between them, suffocating Paige with its weight. The words pulse in her chest, beating against her rib cage, and suddenly, she feels like she can’t breathe either. The guilt crashes into her like a tidal wave, a suffocating, all-consuming force.

She should’ve been more considerate. She should’ve seen this coming—Jo’s feelings. She should’ve taken the time to explain, to talk it out. But instead, she had pulled away, had put this distance between them, thinking about all of her own feelings without even giving a thought to Jo’s. And now Jo thinks she hates her. Hates her. The thought slices through Paige, a sharp pain that she can’t shake. It feels like a punch to the gut. The fact that Jo—perfect, pretty, happy, sweet, smart, everything that’s good in the world Jo—could ever believe that makes Paige realize just how much she’s fucked this all up.

I’ve never hated you, Paige thinks desperately, but the words feel so empty, so hollow. They’re not enough. They’ll never be enough.

The irony of it hits her like a ton of bricks—Jo thinks she hates her, but the truth is far more complicated. Because it’s the exact opposite. I like you too much. The thought pops into Paige’s head unbidden, and her heart skips a beat.

She takes a shaky breath, her hand instinctively reaching up toward Jo’s face. The movement feels foreign, almost bold, but her fingers are gentle as they sweep under Jo’s eyes, wiping away some of the tears that still stain her cheeks. For a moment, Jo doesn’t react, her eyes still unfocused, the remnants of panic still visible in her expression. But then, slowly, her gaze meets Paige’s. Brown on blue, the contact feels like a jolt, like electricity running through her veins.

Paige’s heart stumbles, and she can’t stop herself from cupping Jo’s cheeks in her hands, cradling her face softly. She needs Jo to understand, needs her to hear this. She needs to make it clear—I don’t hate you. The words are stuck in her throat, tangled up with everything else she’s been feeling, but they finally tumble out, heavy and full of suppressed emotion.

“God, Joey,” she whispers thickly, “I could never hate you.”

Jo’s eyes are wide, filled with confusion and hurt, and she opens her mouth as if to protest, but then she asks, her voice barely a whisper, “Then—then why have you been ignoring me?”

Paige feels the weight of that question settle into her bones. She wants to tell Jo everything, to be honest, but the words fall down her windpipe as soon as they’re formed. You’re the reason I’ve been pushing you away, she wants to say. It’s you, Jo. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you. But she’d never admit that. It’s not fair—not when Jo’s happy with Asher. There’s no need to complicate things further for something that will never happen.

So, instead, Paige forces herself to breathe, to steady herself before speaking again. She looks at Jo, trying to read the sadness in her eyes, the confusion, the vulnerability that still lingers despite the panic subsiding. Paige feels another hot sting of guilt—how could she have let Jo feel this way? How could she have been so careless?

“I’ve just been in a bad place in my head recently,” Paige says, her voice quieter now, more measured. It’s not exactly a lie. It’s just that the full truth is too messy, too tangled. She needs a reason that makes sense, something Jo can understand, something that doesn’t risk breaking everything between them. “I’ve been frustrated with my knee, and… I guess it’s just all piled up.”

Jo listens, nodding slowly, her expression still tight with uncertainty. Paige adds, carefully, feeling the weight of the words press down on her, “And—and I really like this girl who doesn’t like me back.” She pauses, her stomach twisting with the admission, even though it’s only half of the truth. “And all of it together—it’s just… it’s made me pull away from almost everyone. I don’t really know how to deal.”

Jo takes in the words, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment, her fingers twitching nervously against her thighs. Paige watches her closely, hoping that Jo can make sense of everything she’s said, that she can understand why Paige has acted the way she has in some capacity.

“But,” the blonde adds, knowing it’s necessary, “it’s not excuse. None of it is. I shouldn’t of pulled away. I shoulda talked to you, told you what was goin’ on. And I’m really fucking sorry I didn’t.”

For a long moment, there’s silence, and all Paige can do is wait, her heart hammering in her chest. Jo’s breathing has finally evened out, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease, but there’s still an underlying fragility in the air.

Finally, Jo says quietly, “Okay.”

Without thinking, Paige reaches out, pulling Jo into a tight hug. Her arms wrap around Jo instinctively, holding her close, and for a moment, Paige can’t help but think about how perfect Jo feels in her arms like this. How soft and warm and real she is. The weight of Jo’s body against hers, the way Jo fits into her arms, feels so right that it almost takes Paige’s breath away. She buries her face in Jo’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo, the feeling of Jo finally grounding Paige in way that she hasn’t felt in far too long.

“’M sorry,” Paige murmurs into Jo’s hair. “’M so sorry for making you feel like that.”

Paige isn’t sure how long they stay like that, locked together, before she feels Jo’s hands move, shifting just slightly, gently beginning to pull away. The movement feels like a cold wind cutting through the warmth of the hug, and Paige immediately feels the absence, the space between them growing far too wide. She wants to reach out and pull Jo back into her, to hold her tighter and never let go, but—obviously—she doesn’t.

Jo’s eyes are still slightly red, but as she pulls back, her lips curve into the softest, most forgiving smile, a smile that feels so Jo—genuine and kind, even when everything else is unraveling. It’s almost unbearable to see, because Paige knows that Jo doesn’t deserve to be this forgiving. She doesn’t deserve to feel like this was all just something to brush off.

“It’s okay,” Jo says, her words wrapped in warmth, in that same kindness that makes her who she is. But Paige knows that it’s not okay. She knows that, even if Jo’s forgiven her, Paige is not so quick to forgive herself, because what she’s done is not okay.

It goes silent between them again for a long moment. Paige can’t think of what to say. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She wants to apologize again, over and over, to make sure Jo really knows. But the clock is ticking. The game is still ahead of them. The pressure of it presses in on her chest, and she knows that they can’t have this conversation now. Not before the game. Not when the adrenaline needs to take over and the court demands focus.

Paige takes a steadying breath, feeling the air fill her lungs, forcing her thoughts to calm down. She needs to help Jo. She needs to get her head in the right space before the game. Jo is here, with her, needing her. And as much as the emotional weight of everything is damn near overwhelming her, Paige pushes it aside.

She reaches forward, gently but firmly placing her hands on Jo’s shoulders, giving her a soft but decisive push to meet her eyes. Jo’s gaze lifts to meet Paige’s with a quiet, uncertain trust, and Paige feels the familiar surge of responsibility that always floods her when her teammates need her. She’s a leader. She has to lead. And right now, Jo needs her to.

“My dad texts me before every game I play in,” Paige says steadily. “‘Be you, be great.’ That’s all you gotta do today, Joey. Just be you, and it’ll come to you.”

It’s simple, but true. Jo doesn’t need anything more than to be herself. She doesn’t need to try to be perfect or live up to expectations that aren’t hers. She just needs to trust herself, trust her game.

Jo’s eyes shift slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. It’s there, but it’s still guarded. The smile that Paige so desperately wants to see doesn’t fully reach Jo’s eyes yet, but it’s a start. She nods slowly, a small motion, but enough to let Paige know she’s listening.

“Josephine fuckin’ Jacobson,” Paige continues, saying her full name for emphasis, “you are such a good basketball player. And you’re gonna do great. Okay? Be you, be great.”

Jo takes a deep breath, and Paige watches as the tension seems to slowly ease off of her. She nods, more definitively this time, the hint of a real smile tugging at her lips. It’s small, but it’s there.

“Okay,” Jo says quietly, before repeating the word more firmly. “Okay.”

PAIGE’S MIND is fuzzy, her limbs heavy with the after effects of one too many dirty shirley’s. Despite the November chill, she feels hot, and her feet shuffle unevenly as she and Jo stumble back toward their apartment. They’re both absolutely hammered—there’s no other way to describe it. The world feels a little hazy, like everything around her is softly swaying. Her head spins, and it’s all a bit much, but it’s also freeing in a way. She hasn’t felt this loose, this light, in a long time.

Their win against Northeastern and the start of the season fills the air, hanging around them like a celebratory cloud. Jo played like Jo—21 points, 5 assists, 4 boards, 4 steals—just as Paige knew she would. A great collegiate debut, and Paige had watched every second of it from the bench, locked in. She’d felt so proud—and even a little awestruck—that Jo went out there and did that, after having such an emotionally charged pre-game.

Now, as they weave their way back to their apartment, arms brushing, legs tangling as they trip over their own feet, that sense of pride is still lodged in Paige’s chest, warm and comforting, like a glow that won’t fade. She can’t stop giggling, low and breathy, as Jo laughs along beside her. Their words are slurred, but that doesn’t stop them. Everything is funny—every little thing. Every misstep, every giggle, every second of pure chaos that they’re living in right now is a spark of joy after having been without it for too long.

Paige’s thoughts drift lazily, floating between the haze of the alcohol and the warmth of the night. She’s not sure when they’d started leaning into each other—just that they are now, and it feels comfortable. Familiar. Nice. Perfect. Great.

“You good?” Jo asks in a voice that’s too loud as she unlocks the front door to their apartment, then bursts into giggles again.

Paige snorts, stumbling a bit more dramatically than necessary. “I’m so good,” she says, her voice sounding more slurred than she means it to be. She throws an arm around Jo’s shoulder to steady herself, but the weight of her makes Jo stumble, and they both neatly collapse into the wall. They’re laughing too hard to care.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Jo gasps suddenly and jerks her arm away, running ahead, the sound of her feet echoing down the hallway. Paige, still a bit off balance, blinks in confusion for a moment, then laughs drunkenly. “Bro—where you goin’?” she asks, her voice trailing off into giggles as she watches Jo hurry toward her bedroom.

Paige follows slowly. It’s odd, in a way—this whole night, this whole feeling. This morning when she woke up, she never expected to be here with Jo, giggling and laughing and things feeling normal again. She probably assumed she’d just be in someone else’s bed. But she’s not, she’s here—with Jo.

Jo. Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo, Jo. She’s so good at basketball, and she’s so good at being there for Paige, even when Paige fucks up. She’s still here, still making everything feel lighter than air.

Paige leans against the doorframe of Jo’s bedroom, watching the younger girl move around her room, back and forth, rifling through her closet with purpose. Clearly, she’s looking for something.

“Joey, what’re you doin’?” Paige asks. Her question hangs in the air, teasing, but it’s laced with affection—Paige can’t hide that part. Especially in her tipsy state, Paige can’t help but stare at Jo with a smile that feels like it’s stretching her face.

Jo doesn’t answer. She’s clearly very focused on something, her movements a little clumsy but endearing. Paige watches her closely, and she lets out another small laugh without meaning to. Her eyes stay glued to Jo, to how everything she does seems to command Paige’s attention. It shouldn’t be a surprise though—even without alcohol in her system, Jo is always there, always occupying every inch of Paige’s thoughts. Maybe it’s starting to get a little pathetic, actually.

Then, Jo suddenly straightens up, a gleam in her eyes. She pulls something out of the depths of her closet—a gift-wrapped box. She bounds over to Paige with her infectious energy, and before Paige can fully process what’s happening, Jo grabs her hand and tugs her into the room, practically pulling her off her feet in her enthusiasm. The force of it makes Paige stumble a little, but it doesn’t matter—Jo’s laughter fills the room, a sound so bright that it makes Paige’s chest swell.

The door slams shut behind them. Paige watches as Jo shoves the gift into her hands, still grinning, still beaming like she’s giving Paige the greatest gift in the world.

“Happy late birthday!” Jo’s words are slurred but joyful.

It is late. Very late, in fact. But Paige had been in LA during her actual birthday, and when she got back, Jo didn’t really have time to give her her gift for… obvious reasons.

But she’s here, giving her one now, and Paige feels so cared for and seen that she can barely even focus on what’s in her hands. The wrapping paper crinkles under her fingers as she tears it open, the motion slow and clumsy, but she feels her heart beat a little faster as Jo watches her do it with those wide eyes full or excitement.

The gift is a Lego set.

It’s one Paige has wanted for months, one that she’d seen in the store and practically drooled over, but she’d never let herself buy it. Jo and Aaliyah and Ines had been with her there, watching her ponder over whether or not to buy it. She decided not to, deeming it too expensive even if she certainly could afford it. But she already had, like, five sets in her hands—so, it was definitely a no-go that day.

But now she’s holding that set, because of Jo. Jo spent money on it, just for Paige. Just because she knew how much it would mean to her.

“Joey!” she exclaims, her voice full of awe and genuine surprise. She turns to Jo, blue eyes wide.

“Do you like?” Jo asks, voice soft but still excited.

“I love!” Paige responds with a wide, goofy smile. It’s true. She loves the thought behind it, the gesture, the fact that Jo cares enough to get her this, let alone anything.

It’s not long before Paige flops onto her back on Jo’s bed, the Lego set abandoned to the side, her arms stretched out like a starfish. Jo plops down next to her, the mattress dipping under her weight, and Paige has to fight the instinct—drunk and probably sober, too—to pull her closer. It would be so easy. One hand on Jo’s waist, the other around her shoulder, tucking her against her chest. It’s a dangerous thought, one Paige shouldn’t even entertain, but the drunkenness isn’t helping her self-control. Instead, she keeps her hands firmly to herself, pressing them into the comforter. She stares up at the ceiling for a moment before her gaze inevitably shifts to Jo.

Jo is staring at the ceiling, too, wide-eyed, like she’s marveling at the sheer existence of it. Her mouth falls open in an exaggerated “wow,” and Paige bites her lip to stifle yet another laugh.

“The world is spinning,” Jo announces, her voice filled with awe and disbelief, like she’s just uncovered some profound universal truth.

Paige can’t hold back her laughter this time. It bubbles out of her, loud and unabashed. “Bro, you’re so drunk,” she says, turning her head to look at her more directly.

Jo grins and shifts her gaze, meeting Paige’s eyes. “No, you’re so drunk!” she fired back, her words slurring slightly as she pokes Paige in the shoulder for emphasis.

They’re both laughing now, the kind of laughter that comes from being young and carefree and absolutely wasted. It’s the kind of moment Paige wants to capture and keep forever, this version of Jo so happy and light and hers, if only for now.

But then, the sharp trill of a phone cuts through the moment, jolting them both from their drunken bubble. Jo groans, her head tipping back against the mattress as if the mere thought of moving is too much effort. “Ugh, noooo,” she whines, squirming around to try and reach into her back pocket where her phone is ringing insistently.

Paige sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow, laughing at Jo’s struggles. “C’mon, champ,” she teases, watching the younger girl twist and wriggle until she finally manages to pull her phone free. Jo squints at the screen, her tongue sticking out a little in concentration, before she lets out a soft, “Oh. It’s Asher.”

The name hits Paige like a splash of cold water, instantly sobering her. She forces her face to stay neutral, her heart sinking just slightly as Jo answers the call. She tries to brush it off, but it feels like someone just yanked her back to reality.

Jo’s voice brightens as she presses the phone to her ear. “Hiiii, what do you want?” she greets, the words teasing but affectionate. Paige watches her closely, her eyes scanning Jo’s face, cataloging every expression as Asher’s voice hums faintly on the other side of the line. She can’t make out the words, but she doesn’t really need to. Jo’s smile tells her everything she doesn’t want to know.

“Yes, I’m drunk,” Jo says with a laugh, rolling her eyes playfully. Another pause, another response Paige doesn’t hear. “Okay, yes, I will.” Jo giggles, the sound light and airy, and Paige’s chest aches. “Yes, I love you, too. Byeeee!” Jo hangs up with a flourish, tossing the phone toward the foot of the bed. It bounces off and clatters to the floor, but Jo just laughs. “Oops.”

Paige tries to laugh with her, but it doesn’t come as easily as before. She’s too caught up in the sting of hearing Jo say those words so effortlessly. I love you too. It’s not like Paige hasn’t heard it before, but tonight, when they’ve spent the whole evening laughing and leaning into each other’s space, it feels sharper, harder to ignore.

Before she can think too much, Jo scoots closer, collapsing onto Paige with a happy sigh. Her head rests on Paige’s chest, and Paige freezes, her heart slamming against her robe as a Jo mumbles, “Boys,” in an exasperated tone, as if that single word explains everything.

Paige forces a chuckle, but it’s quieter now, more subdued. Her mind races, but she doesn’t move. She can’t. She doesn’t trust herself to touch Jo, even though she wants to, desperately. She wants to wrap her arms around her, hold her tight, tell her that boys are stupid and unnecessary and that Paige could love her better, so much better. But she doesn’t.

Jo’s breathing slows and it seems within moments, she’s out cold, the alcohol taking everything out of her, her body heavy and warm against Paige’s. Paige shifts slightly, careful not to disturb her, and lets out a shaky breath. She hesitates, then lifts a hand, brushing it gently through Jo’s hair. The soft strands glide through her fingers, and it’s soothing in a way she can’t explain, even if it makes chest hurt.

She stares at Jo, at the peaceful expression on her face. She shouldn’t feel this way. She knows that. But knowing—or the stupid space shit she tried that was clearly bad for both of them—doesn’t stop the feelings. It doesn’t stop the yearning or the way her stomach flips every time Jo looks at her. It doesn’t stop the way she knows Jo is happy with Asher, that Jo loves him, that Paige will never be anything more than her best friend.

But she decides that it’s enough. That it has to be. If this is the only way she can have Jo, then she’ll take it. She’ll take the laughter, the late nights, the moments like these where Jo trusts her enough to fall asleep on her. She’ll take Jo in any way she’ll give her, even if it breaks her heart a little more every day.

Because loving Jo, even from a distance, even like this, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

[babybearnation]

think i like you best when you're just with me

⎇f1 drivers x gn!reader - you're trying to quit smoking (reactions) ⎇contains: alex albon, arthur leclerc, charles leclerc, dino beganovic, george russell, zhou guanyu, kimi antonelli, lance stroll, lando norris, liam lawson, logan sargeant, max verstappen, mick schumacher, ollie bearman, oscar piastri, paul aron, pierre gasly, yuki tsunoda ⎇author's note: this is something i struggle with so i appreciate 🔒 anon for requesting this! if you're trying to quit an addiction, i love you, i believe in you, stay strong! (kofi for long fics) ⎇content warnings: smoking/addiction/relapses (all), crying (alex, charles, logan, max), arguing (kimi, max), suggestive (lando, ollie, yuki) ⎇word count: 2.1k

alex albon:

alex is not going to judge you for struggling. he understands that sometimes people turn to shitty things to cope with life. when you confess that you want to quit smoking, alex is immediately looking up all the strategies he can. he'll find your cigarettes and keep them on his person that way he can try and stop you when you go for one, he'll convince you to put out your cigarette if he catches you with one, he'll even let you play with his hands or his hair if it means you won't think about the feeling of a cigarette between your fingers. and if you break down in tears because life sucks and you just want to smoke, he'll hold you and cheer you up until you feel better.

arthur leclerc:

monaco has one of the highest rates of smoking in all of europe so arthur is probably pretty desensitized to seeing people smoke. he'll still be pretty upset if he finds out that you smoke, though. upon discovering that you want to quit, arthur is immediately on board, helping you slowly but surely remove the desire to smoke from your life. if you ever relapse, he might be angry at first, but he soon learns that you really cannot help it. after that he becomes much better at helping you leave the cigarettes behind. any milestones you hit in your smoking cessation journey will be celebrated however you so desire because he truly believes that's what you deserve.

charles leclerc:

he might be a bit baffled as to why you smoke but when you explain to him that it helps you deal with stress, he's gonna be stressed himself. he doesn't want you smoking - he wants you as healthy as possible, thank you - but he gets it. when you tearfully suggest that you want to quit, he's helping you as soon as he can. he'll get you those patches or mints for the first couple months, and he nab and destroy any cigarette he catches you with (with permission, he does not want to upset you further), but eventually, he switches paths and tries to get rid of your stress. he'll do whatever is takes to help you quit, tbh.

dino beganovic:

he's not really happy about the fact that you smoke but he knows he can't control you, so he will just request that you don't smoke in his presence. when you decide that, actually, killing your lungs really isn't worth it, you'll ask him to help you quit. he'll be patient with you as you attempt to quit, always careful not to push you too far, but also knowing exactly when to be more commanding. he doesn't want you to experience any relapses, but he's prepared mentally and physically for when/if you do. he's really sweet about helping you quit, even if his initial reaction to finding out you smoke was one of pure disgust.

george russell:

there's actually a pretty big smoking culture in the uk so i wouldn't be surprised if george has encountered many smokers in his time as a brit, but he's a bit shocked when he discovers you're one as well. he won't be completely disgusted - people cope in a myriad of ways, after all - but he will push you towards trying to quit. when you eventually agree, he's laying out all the options towards cessation that exist, giving you the pros and cons of each one. he's done his research, which means he's really good at helping you fight your cravings and preventing any relapses. if you ever do relapse though? it's okay, he won't judge. he gets it and he will help you get back on your feet so you can try again.

zhou guanyu:

he thinks its a dirty habit and will say as much to you, but in a much nicer way than that seems. when you ask him to help you with fighting your addiction, he's there instantly. you want his help? you'll get it! he's not going to let you suffer alone. he's very patient in the early stages, understanding that relapses are bound to happen. if you get really distraught over these relapses, he will do everything in his power to cheer you up, even if that means he has to ruin his cool guy persona and embarrass himself to make you laugh. he will do literally anything to make sure you go through cessation without too much trouble.

kimi antonelli:

he's young and been embroiled in the world of motorsport for a very long time, under heavy watch from mercedes, so he's probably never even considered smoking before. when you confess to him that you smoke (probably since before you were legally able to), he's gonna be upset and this might trigger an argument between you two but it comes from a place of love and concern for him. the second you suggest quitting and finding other coping mechanisms, he's there. he'll think of every single way he can to prevent you from smoking. if that means you have to travel all around the world with him so he can keep an eye on you, then so be it!

lance stroll:

i would not be surprised if this man has smoked before and hated it. he gets it though - he deals with perpetual stress in his line of work and he has plenty of coping mechanisms. he's gonna be a bit upset that you chose smoking of all things, but he'll happily let you do whatever you want because he gets it. when you say you want to quit, however, he's there. he's paying for all the expensive alternatives and treatments, getting you all the therapies. hell, if he can, he'll even pay away your stress. your job is your stress? okay, well, your new job is as his full time SAP so. enjoy it. anything he can do to make your life easier and to reduce your stress so you'll stop smoking, he'll have it done by the end of the day.

lando norris:

whilst he might find it hot that you smoke, he's also gonna be a little bit concerned because he's fully watched you chain smoke three cigarettes before and that surely cannot be good for your lungs. when you tell him you've started the process of quitting, he'll be so proud of you and he'll offer to help every single step of the way. it's really hard to relapse around him because he'll shoot you with a water gun every time he catches you smoking. despite being a chaotic gremlin most of the time, lando really does understand stress very well and so he'll understand your cravings and relapses. he'll never make you feel upset. if its the feeling of something in your mouth you crave, well... lando's got that covered ;).

liam lawson:

he's not happy about it, but he understands that you smoke because you're stressed. he may accidentally push you too far when insisting that you try and quit, but when you come to him and say that you wanna quit because you yourself has decided to, he feels a little victorious knowing he played some role in that. he can be a bit too aggressive with you at first - demanding to know why you thought relapsing was okay - but he quickly researches more into nicotine addictions and realises you really can't help it. after that, he becomes much more helpful and your path to cessation becomes much easier.

logan sargeant:

if anyone understands stress, it's this man, so when he catches you ripping into a new pack of cigarettes as tears stream down your face, he gets it. he might try and stop you that first time but ultimately, he wants you to make the decision to stop. so when you ask him if he'd help you fight the addiction, he's obviously saying yes. he's there to hold you when you cry and try and stop you when you relapse, but every month you pass without smoking, he'll buy you something nice. a little material motivation/incentive never hurt anyone, right?

max verstappen:

he loves you, he really does, but he isn't entirely sure if he can handle your smoking. it might cause a rift or an argument, but eventually he realises how deep your addiction is and offers to help you get out of it when you end up crying during another argument. he helps you with alternative products (patches/mints/e-cigs), or he'll pay for group therapy or he'll snatch any and every cigarette he sees you smoking out of your hand. whatever it takes for you to quit, he'll do it, because he wants you to be happy and healthy and he doesn't believe any amount of cigarettes is good for either of those things.

mick schumacher:

it breaks his heart to know that you turned to smoking because you were too stressed about life. his heart is well and truly broken. he's very kind and patient with you though, and if you're really struggling, he'll go out and buy you cigarettes, but he hates seeing you smoke. when you tell him you're quitting and that he has to hold you responsible, he does. he takes his job very seriously and will help prevent, or at least soften the blow of, any relapses that may happen. when you get to one year cigarette free, he celebrates in a way that suits you because that's an incredible achievement that deserves to be celebrated!

ollie bearman:

i think ollie would be so torn on this. on the one hand, he hates that you're smoking because you're stressed. he hates that you're hurting. on the other hand? you smoking is fucking hot. when you tell him you want to quit, he might playfully protest but when he realises how serious you actually are, he'll put the jokes away and asks how he can help and support you. every step of the way, every stumble and every success, ollie is there to help you. some people might think its weird how overprotective of you he appears to be, but he refuses to let you get hurt and sink back into that place of smoking ever again.

oscar piastri:

he's soft yet blunt on his thoughts regarding you smoking - he hates it, but it's your life. when you tell him you want to quit because you refuse to let stress and smoking control your life anymore, oscar's on board basically instantly. he's researching the best strategies to fight a nicotine addiction and he's slowly helping you implement them into your life and test the waters to see if they help. he knows there will be bad days and he's always willing to hold you through all of them, but he can't help but be so proud when you hit milestones, no matter how many times you've hit them before.

paul aron:

he seems very strict about taking care of his health and being at peak performance so realising he's dating someone who smokes might jolt him but he's never once gonna be mean to you about it. people have different ways of coping and he won't shame you for yours. is he gonna pounce on the idea of you quitting the second you hint at it? of course he is, but he's not pushy. he's only ever pushing you to stop when you tell him to because you know he can help prevent a relapse or help you deal with something stressful. if you ever slip up, he won't hold it over your head. it happens. he'll pick you up and help you carry on or start again.

pierre gasly:

another one who might be a bit upset at first but quickly learns that you are deep into addiction and aren't able to just up and quit like other people can. he'll be there to guide you through every step of your smoking cessation, always cheering you on when you do well or comforting you when you slip up and relapse. he'll never make you feel like you're wrong or dirty for smoking. he's just so supportive!

yuki tsunoda:

yuki might find it hot at first but those feelings are very quickly washed away by panic and concern. why were you smoking? did you want to quit or was this something you planned to do for the rest of your life? when you tell him you want to quit, yuki will try his best to cheer you on. he offers to cook for you as motivation but like.. he always cooks for you. luckily, he's cute enough that it's fine, but you do have to find a proper source of motivation to keep you going. and seeing the way yuki's eyes get brighter with each milestone you hit, you quickly realise what that source is.

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[megismyname]

A few general statements for the fandom:

Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

And yes this applies to personal or private information you may obtain or theorize about any of the players involved. Just because you obtained it “publicly” doesn’t mean it should be shared for the whole of the fandom. Ask yourself if this was being shared about you, would you want everyone that knows you discussing it? If not, keep it to a 4-5 person group chat.

Stop villainizing Nic and Luke for not performing on your perceived timeline.

Nicola is only 38 - she’s not in a “mid life crisis” and if I hear that one more time I’m gonna pull my hair out. Luke is not a “fuckboy” because he had one HBS and dated a younger woman for a short period of his life. Just because “guys like Luke” wouldn’t date you doesn’t mean he couldn’t love Nicola. And for real, WTF does “guys like Luke” mean? Just say that you’re projection fat phobia on Nicola when she’s not even “fat.”

Follow up - Nic and Luke are not distancing themselves from Bridgerton or from each other.

Most of y’all became fans during the WT so you were so used to constant content 24/7 and unfortunately that’s over. Luke and especially Nicola are also more high profile now compared to previous seasons. BTS posting on social media is gonna be different. It has nothing to do with their thoughts toward the show or each other. They’ve both commented multiple times how much they love Bridgerton. And they’ve both commented how much they love each other. Stop creating drama just because you need a dopamine fix.

Another follow up - social media is not real life.

Y’all I don’t know them personally but I PROMISE you that Luke reached out to Nic personally and wished her happy birthday. (Hell depending on where you fall on the theory spectrum, he was the one with her at her birthday dinner and took the picture.) I will tell you that my birthday is January 8th, the day before Nic, and I had to two Instagram story posts wishing me happy birthday. TWO. And I promise you I have a lot of friends. But you know what? All of my close friends texted or called me that day and gave me personalized greetings that weren’t for the whole world to see. And - GASP - this includes friends who have posted for me multiple past years in a row. So yes, even pattern breaking doesn’t mean anything. It’s been a week so please stop dwelling on this. And if you are still upset then I have a question for you - does it equally bother you that none of the Bridgertons publicly wished Will Tilston a Happy 18th Birthday? If not, please reevaluate the reasons behind your expectations.

Stop the public bullying and ostracizing.

The public hate needs to stop. Everyone is always accusing “shippers” of being the reason why N&L seem closed off but my opinion is that if anyone in the fandom is influencing their behavior, it’s the people continuously spewing hate. I will admit I’ve been guilty of throwing down against some of the more toxic creators in this space but I’ve always felt like I was “giving a voice to the voiceless.” What we need to do is stop attacking other creators because their opinions are different than us. And yes, I’m bringing this back to “opinion” because as I said the other day - nobody knows “fact” no matter how “obvious” you think it may be. You think Antonia and Jake are their significant others? Great. You think Nic and Luke are together? Great. Until the day that there is ever a definitive answer directly from the teams of Nic or Luke, everyone is on equal playing ground. I’m sorry if that bothers you but it’s true.

Side note to all of this: if a creator is saying stuff that makes you uncomfortable just know that when you make a post complaining about it, you were in fact perpetuating that information that makes you uncomfortable and only making the visibility larger. Just keep this in mind.

And with that, I’ll take my leave for now. Let’s all take a collective deep breath and remember that these are two real people with real lives and we’re only seeing what they choose to show us. Maybe it’s time we all pick up some extra hobbies. Start playing online games with your group chat. Fun some other methods of injecting fun in your day. It’ll make the time go by and you won’t be driving yourself crazy over this fandom. Keep your heads up y’all and just keep moving forward - it’s not that serious y’all. 💛

[xkaleza]

SFTH tiktok livestream summary from a few days ago (I missed the beginning of the livestream sadly)

if anyone wants to put more questions answered then be my guest, I'm a bit biased and didn't write down the ones that have been answered before or stuff i didn't know about

"Will luke be in any of the shows?" -"Luke's gonna be at all the BIG shows but we might just catch him in a net" tom

-"Who's the funniest member?" -"tom laughs at aj and sam but luke fills tom with pride"

-"please make plushies PLEASE" <- not to brag, but that was me😎 -tom said they SHOULD make plushies.

^^tom also agreed that a falthmouth plushie would be very awesome!

-tom love mcr growing up

-tom would like to do a part 2 of The Evil Make A Wish Kid

-tom would love to go on taskmaster

-tom watched dimension 20 but hasnt finished it

-"Are your partners fine with you kissing?" -tom asked pip and they encourage the kissing

-tom reccomends for beginners to the channel to watch the christmas special or any of the latest improv plays

-"Clarisse's DIY Wedding" coming out saturday this week!! ^^SPOILERS (love triangle between luke, tom, and aj)

-"What's the sexuality of members of SFTH" -tom isnt straight because he's married to pip who's nonbinary, but everyone else is straight he thinks

-"kiss, marry, kill? luke, sam, and aj" -Kiss luke, marry sam, kill aj (he'll try but he doesnt think he'll succeed)

-"What inspired you to make the twist at 'Death For A Dollar'??" -"it was too dark and he decided to make the girl alive to have a sweeter ending"

-"Favourite siblings in SFTH?" -"Caravan Brothers"

-tom has seen wicked

-Roll from the hip doesnt have a scheduled date yet, but they're recording a few things.

-SFTH podcast is coming out february (this might be the newest patreon post im not sure)

-"Any horror films you recommend?" -not a film but he recommends 'Haunting of Hill'

-"How long will SFTH survive in squidgames?" -AJ would die first, tom would survive until.. (one of the games, i cant remember), and sam would get overconfident but win the game

-"pip's pronouns?" -pip only goes by they/them now

-"Favourite scene you've done?" -tom liked playing the scene where he kept saying 'passageway' wrong

-"Favourite SFTH game?" -tom likes the change game

-tom still cannot say paella correctly

-"Best traits of SFTH members?" -Luke's acting, AJ's commitment to choices, Sam being the funniest, and tom being the best one ever.

-AJ still doesn't know what a lighthouse is

[mstowel]

this is a lot of posts for me in 24 hours, but there are a couple things i saw/experienced at the show in relation to audience & stage door behavior that i think is important to know to discourage that behavior. this is gonna be super long, so bear with me <3

tldr: be quiet during shows & be respectful to those around u at stage door

first the audience behavior. i was sat behind two people who i have had the unfortunate luck of sitting behind at an earlier show a few weeks ago. so this doesnt go for all audience members, but i have heard other situations like this as well. the ENTIRE show, they were lip syncing to the songs and dancing (which ok worse things have happened, but it was incredibly distracting for the people around me, who kept complaining about their behavior). they also were literally quoting the scenes out loud. like, would say the character's lines before the actor even said it themselves. it was actually insane? like fully ruining scenes and moments in the show, because they clearly wanted people around them to know they had seen the show before. behavior like that is just rude and incosiderate. if u wanna sing along and act out the dialogue, maybe stay home and watch a bootleg? people paid a LOT of money to see the actors perform, not random audience members. it was really frustrating to a lot of people sitting around me, and to me as well. so just dont do that maybe?

for stage door behavior, im gonna name one person (bc multiple ppl have had issues with them), but leave the other two unnamed because i dont think anyone needs to receive unnecessary hate. there were a few people at stage door who werent at the show, and i understand that that happens all the time and u cant really do anything about it! but it was people who often brag and post about going only to the stage door without seeing the show and take up a few spots at the front. like....this is not the first time they've done this, and also they were maybe involved in a certain dming and food situation from a while ago if u guys remember that....so. no hate to them, free will and all, you can do what you want. but like, the repeat offending of constantly stage dooring without seeing the show is wild to me.

for the named person, broadwaypolaroids needs to chill tf out. i know multiple ppl who have had issues with her, and i never really cared to think about her until the last few times i have stage doored (all of which she has been at) where she is just so disrespectful not only to the actors, but the other fans who were at the show waiting to talk to the actors. she was fully interrupting fans conversations with certain actors to make the actors take at lesat 3 or 4 photos on her dumbass camera. she also was fully blocking the way for actors to leave and forcing them into stopping to take pictures. also insane that she charges money for these pictures and i think more people need to be talking about it, but maybe thats just me. i also one night saw her be rude to security because trevor (who was on as pony that show) didnt sign playbills in the section she was standing in. mind u trevor was outside for lile 15 minutes really taking his time with the fans. she went up to security and basically demanded they get trevor to come back outside. it was literally one of the more insane things i have ever witnessed. anyways, that turned into a rant. but the behavior from her last night was seriously not cool and shes just a rude person from what i have seen.

anways! lets remember to be considerate and respectful of those around us, both at the show and afterwards. everyone is there for the reason of enjoying the show and maybe getting to compliment the actors' performances after. so just be quiet during shows and be kind to those around u, in seats and at stage door. its truly not that hard. ok bye! <3

[will80sbyers]

like, that not-hug is just the most obvious thing ever

we know Mike is not homophobic

we know Mike doesn't know about Will having feelings for him because the Duffers AND Finn said that he doesn't know

and writers do not write that for a unrequited storyline because it gives that idea to the audience (which would be part of queerbait) and it also makes the "straight" character look like an asshole for no reason whatsoever

it's not even about what Mike's reason could be in the story, it's about what the writers making him do that are communicating to the audience watching

you just do not do that to one of the main characters because you risk that the audience is gonna think he's a piece of shit even if you want to give him a reason after of "I felt like I lost you" (which btw is romantic coded for them) it's still the first impression it leaves + other multiple things at the same time, as we know there's too much byler evidence 🤭

[chuslitrr]

Marvels incorrect quotes because I love them

Freddy: talking about robin!Damian: he's an asshole! He tried to stab you multiple times!

Billy: those were accidental!

Freddy:

Billy: okay well I know the third time was accidental

---

Freddy: I apologize for saying "fuck" in front of Thavma

Mary: you just said it again

Thavma, just happy to be there:

Freddy: I'm not a good role model

---

Freddy, in his CM jr. Form: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why

Mary: only if you also don't ask why

Mary: *pulls out four pristine human skulls out of her bag*

Freddy:...

Freddy: this one will do..

---

Billy: you call yourself my best friend, but where were you when my Whiz blog entry only got 4 likes?

Freddy: making four accounts

Billy, tearing up: really?

---

Freddy, to modern teenage!Billy: you swear too much, you fight too much, and your morals are questionable.

Teen!billy:...

Freddy: you're everything I've ever wanted in a best friend

---

Mary: you think I can't fight because I'm a woman!

Billy: I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. Honestly, I don't think Freddy could fight in that wedding dress either

Freddy: perhaps not. But I would make a radiant bride

[feastingonchrist]

Agreed. It's so funny how those people are the same ones to preach about "human rights", until it comes to abortion and denying the humanity of the fetus/child. All they do is dehumanize and contradict themselves. They deny science when it benefits them... though it really doesn't because it just weakens their argument. Pro-choicers are so ableist, too. Like, it's really bad. Just because a child may be disabled and need life long care, they're born into poverty, the mother was raped, or they didn't want to become pregnant (despite while consenting to sex in that case and knowing that the act of heterosexual intercourse has a pretty high chance of the conception of new life), does not make the child's life or experience on this earth any less valuable or important. That's what blows my mind. People are just glazing over the fact that life on earth is ALWAYS going to come with hardships. Killing your child to shield them from unfortunate events in life is highly unrealistic and also disgusting. Why should that child be given a death sentence just because life comes with trials and tribulations? What about the beauty and joys of life? You're also robbing them of that, too.

And just because of the unfortunate case of a woman/minor becoming pregnant via rape, does mean killing the child is going to automatically relieve her trauma. It has the potential of making it worse. She needs love, support and counseling. Terminating the pregnancy doesn't omit what happened. Or that there is a new life developing inside of her. She is already pregnant.... the body is preparing for the child to be born. Nothing changes that. And yeah, it obviously shouldn't have happened in the first place, but repaying evil (abortion) - the CHILD is not evil, let's make that clear; for evil (rape) is never going to be the right choice. It's immoral. It's anti-human. It's anti-love. It's murder. Not to mention, the abortion industry lies to and manipulates women, too. ALL life is valuable and worth protecting.

For many secular & political ideologues, why does it always have to be the worst case scenario they use that as their compass ("god") in life? They put their faith in themselves/Scientism. they think they have the power to change the world and that it's gonna be a perfect utopia with zero problems ever again as long a we live on this earth (though they also believe that the earth is passing away due to climate change so we don't have long, though, but "maybe we can save it"?) That's their inverted "heaven on earth"/"Jesus is coming back to defeat all sin and evil" eschatological view. Their faith stands on nothing. They are living in a dangerous fantasy land. It's very nihilistic & also very delusional. This is why the gospel is so important. It's what Christ did for us, not what we can do, to earn righteousness before God. We are declared righteous through our faith in Him. He made it easy and set the path straight. But in their case, it's all about "being righteous before men"! This is exactly how leftist ideology operates. They fear monger and manipulate while playing both sides when it's convenient for them: i'm oppressed vs listen to me because i'm oppressed and have no power (despite MSM being on their side like 99% of the time!) It's truly sick and twisted. I hate it so much. I used to think the same way they did, believe it or not!

Sorry this was so long, but i have wanted to talk ab this for the longest time.

Btw, i don't disagree with science itself. Science actually does, and should, coincide with God. Science is a systematic discipline that builds and organises knowledge in the form of testable hypotheses and predictions about the universe. - Wikipedia

However, Scientism is the belief that science and the scientific method are the best or only way to render truth about the world and reality.- Wikipedia.

The pro-choice worldview is inherently opposed to human rights. If you have to be something in addition to human (ie, conscious, of a certain age, able-bodied, wanted) to have rights, you do not have human rights. You have rights in accordance with certain accidents about yourself, which are all completely arbitrary.

Either all humans are people or humans do not inherently deserve rights.

[coraniaid]

Buffy Summers is my favorite character on Buffy and (with a couple of exceptions that I prefer to put down to bad writing) I will always find her sympathetic, but. The only reading of the second half of Season 7 that makes any sense to me at all is that we are supposed to think Buffy is doing a pretty bad job of taking care of the Potentials, and that this is why they all end up choosing to gamble on Faith's leadership instead of hers. Like, yes, obviously Empty Places is a badly written episode and the central conflict isn't motivated very well and Dawn kicking Buffy out of her own house is absurd.

But I mean ... look, let's just pick a few of Buffy's inspiring speeches at random, shall we?

From Showtime, in which Buffy 'inspires' the Potentials by ... uh, fighting a powerful vampire while reminding them all how much stronger than them she is:

"Looks good [for the Turok-Han Buffy's about to fight], doesn't it? [The Potentials] are trapped in here. Terrified [...] and there's nothing they can do but wait. That's all they've been doing for days. Waiting to be picked off. Having nightmares about monsters that can't be killed. But I don't believe in that. I always find a way. I'm the thing that monsters have nightmares about. And right now, you and me are gonna show 'em why."

Or from Potential, the very next episode, when Buffy follows that up by telling the Potentials over and over again how likely they are to die:

"You’re all going to die. But you knew that already because that’s the cool reward for being human. […] Don’t kid yourselves, you guys. This whole thing is all about death. You think you’re different because you might be the next Slayer? Death is what a Slayer breathes, what a Slayer dreams about when she sleeps. Death is what a Slayer lives. […] The odds are against us. Time is against us. And some of us will die in this battle."

And from Get It Done, speaking after they just found out that a young Potential called Chloe killed herself:

"Anyone want to say a few words about Chloe? Let me. Chloe was an idiot. Chloe was stupid. She was weak. And anyone in a rush to be the next dead body I bury, it's easy. Just…think of Chloe, and do what she did. […] I'm the slayer. The one with the power. […] I've been carrying you - all of you - too far, too long. Ride's over."

See also, Buffy's speech in Selfless ("there's just me ... I am the law".) See also her admission in Conversations With Dead People that she thinks she's better than all the guys she's ever dated.

To me, it feels obvious that the intended arc of this season, however imperfectly executed, is that Buffy has a sense of herself as uniquely and especially "the one with the power'", but that she's never had any real leadership or mentorship role before and she doesn't know how to use that power to look after all of the Potentials. That she's afraid she won't be able to protect them all and so doesn't want to make emotional connections with them and tells herself (and them) over and over that some of them are going to die no matter what and they just have to accept that. That she tries to keep them at arm's length and hide how badly their deaths actually do affect her, and that she adopts a protective tough-love approach which backfires spectacularly. And that eventually she realizes this approach isn't working and that she should be trying to share her power with them instead of using it to tell them what to do.

And yet so many people on here seem to think that when the Potentials get (understandably) upset about this -- upset about being called weak and stupid by a woman who barely seems to know their names and can't seem to stop reminding them that she has power and that they don't -- that we're meant to think "oh, they are all so ungrateful and unpleasant and Buffy is a saint for taking such good care of them anyway". That her "arc" this season is that she is perfect and doesn't need to learn anything and doesn't have to change in any way, all while people keep giving her shit for literally no reason.

And I just don't see how that makes sense! I just don't find it an interesting narrative and I don't really see how the show itself supports it. The Buffy Summers who gives the speeches I quoted above wouldn't think of sharing her power with others. That's an idea she only comes to when she realizes that being "the thing that monsters have nightmares about" is no substitute for being a good leader and making real connections with other people.