#also also people needs to understand that these 2 ships are so different at their core

[emmafallsinlove]

thinking about how people arguing about rory and jess doesn’t have a “you jump, i jump” moment but like. have you ever been 17 and a guy bought your home made basket for $90 and sat with you on a bridge by the lake, look into your eyes and told you “you know, ernest only has lovely things to say about you”? because tbh, it changes everything.

[cryolyst]

~

[the-music-maniac]

It is very exhausting being in western fandom spaces sometimes. Tell me why I just wanted to enjoy a cute oubing ship vid on tiktok, and half the comments section was about people saying you can't ship them???

I wanna complain into the void, so here's a comprehensive of why Oubing/藕饼/Lotus Root Cake is fine (and even if it wasn't, why I don't give a shit):

(Spoiler warning for Nezha 2)

1. "You can't ship them cause they're brothers'": No, they are not brothers. Not by any definition of the word. Not by blood - not even sworn brothers technically, because they only refer to each other as best friends. They each have their own parents - those parents are not related to each other in any way, shape, or form. One of them is a freaking dragon, an entirely different species. Also, they're technically made of lotuses now. They weren't raised together either. Clarifying this point feels ridiculous.

2. "But they used to be part of the chaos pearl": If you wanted to define them by any type of relationship, they are soulmates. This is not me trying to spin them romantically, I mean they are literally soulmates. Their spirits are each half of a single Chaos Pearl, and they each represent opposite halves. They are literally soulmates and yin and yang.

3. "But they're children!": Are they three years old? Yes - and also no. (this is edited: I saw an official post that did say their ages were 3, not 6). They've been alive for centuries as a chaos pearl. I need you to understand that the original entity we saw at the beginning of Nezha 1, IS a creature that has been alive for thousands of years. They had personality too while they were fighting Taiyi. They were made into the pearls by the cauldron. Now, their mortal bodies as we understand it, is 3 (again edited. I originally said 6 cause I wasn't sure whether or not to count the 3 years of pregnancy). But because they're not really human, and their developmental stages therefore don't mirror a human, the movie shows them maturing into an adult form in the span of about 3 years. How do we know this? Ao Bing is the same age as Nezha, and he went from a baby to his adult form in those 3 years. The only reason Nezha is still in a child form is because he has the qiankun circle suppressing him. This is also the reason that putting the circle on his wrist releases his adult form. Also it's sort of maybe implied by the end of Nezha 2 that he may stay permanently in his adult form, since he reformed his body into it while he was in The Soup™. I dunno how accurate this part is so I suppose we'll see by Nezha 3. I would like to point out further that no three year old talks or acts like they do. Ao Bing and Nezha have very complete vocabularies, and are able to understand the complexities of their circumstances. They're both new to the world in this form, but they're not at the mental capacity of a 3 year old. It's like if you were dropped into a new form of existence with an adult brain.

4. "Nooo, why are you shipping them now": This ship is NOT NEW. It's been around since at least 2019. It is WILDLY popular in China. Back when Nezha 1 first came out, oubing literally won an award for best couple. I want you to understand the scale - from my understanding, they beat wangxian in cql. Y'all can correct me if I got this part wrong because I can't find the source of where I read this information, but if it's true, that's wild. I know the award part is correct. There was an official shampoo ad that reads like a shipping comic. Now that Nezha 2 came out, it is still one of the most popular ships. Every other post on my social media has been about Nezha 2 and at least half of that has been Oubing. There are over 2000 chinese fics on ao3 currently. Stop with this "why are you shipping them now", WE'VE BEEN SHIPPING THEM.

5. "It's not canon.": Not that I give a shit what's canon or even what the original creator thinks about shipping usually, but Jiaozi, aka the director of the movie, has stated that while he wrote Nezha and Ao Bing to just be a friendship that he thinks it is fine if people ship them. I'm pretty sure he also said something along the lines of 'people can interpret things how they want' or something.

6. Even if all of the points I made were not the case, I cannot stress enough how little I care about what someone should or should not ship. If you don't like it, just block the fanart/fic/video and move on. I promise society will not crumble because someone decides to ship two fictional characters from a mythology movie. We will be fine.

(Also if you see anyone in the chinese fandom write 藕饼cp, the cp stands for "couple". Just to clarify. They use different terms for shipping in chinese fandoms, they'll say they "ke CP" aka ship a couple)

Some of the comments I've seen make me wonder if people have even watched the movies. 'You can't ship them cause they're brothers', god don't make me laugh.

Don't let them find out that the chinese fandom is also shipping Ao Bing and Nezha from the 1979 cartoon, they'd lose their minds.

[carto0ncritter]

People are so desperate for LGBT representation, (specifically gay and lesbian couples), that they're willing to accept literally any homosexual ship regardless of the concerning elements.

Let's see, we have ass ships like

1)Stolitz - Stolas is an abuser, a r*pist, a racist man who has so many powers yet is emotionally fragile, passive and wimpy, a man who victimizes himself over and over, a man who emotionally neglects the child who desperately needs him for his sexual fantasies with his victim, a man who is the creator's pet, a man whose actions aren't wrong according to the writers, a man who can just blame everyone else around him but himself with no consequences

2) Catradora - Catra is an abuser too, but was treated like a cute kitty cat in s5 despite having done atrocious things, she was instantly forgiven with no consequences, and she ended up dating her sister and the biggest victim of her abuse

3) Huskerdust - I haven't talked about this one so far, but Angel sexually harassed Husk and never apologized, Husk himself sang "Loser, Baby" and as a SA survivor I felt like he was trying to say this to Angel: "Oh, you've hit rock bottom because of SA? It's your fault lol, accept that you're a whiny bitch and a loser even tho the problem is extremely serious and out of your control and just suck it up, I'm a loser too despite not going through the same thing you have, you're not alone in being a loser BUT YOU ARE STILL A LOSER BABYYY A LOOOSER" Like, ik the message was supposed to be how we're not alone in our struggles and how there's always someone who will understand and make us feel less alone, but the way this was handled rubbed me the wrong way. Also, I'm not sure whether or not to mention this as well (screw it, I will), but Husk is described as "the old bartender," his voice sounds like it belongs to an old dude too, and he apparently died when he was like, 70, while Angel died in his 30's. I'm not gonna calculate their ages based on how it works in Hell because personally I feel like it doesn't matter. What matters is how old they were when they were alive. But however you decide to look at their ages, it's not just the implied enormous age gap that bothers me, no... it's more so the difference in maturity between Husk and Angel. Husk is described as a dude who has seen and experienced a lot of stuff. On the other hand, Angel is clearly immature and there is this weird... emotional imbalance between them? It's like a mentor dating his apprentice, at least that's how I see it. I'm not saying dating someone who's 40 years older than you is morally wrong (if you're both adults) but IT IS WEIRD imo, especially since Angel & Husk are not on the same page when it comes to life experience and maturity. Oh yeah, I also don't think Angel should be in any kind of romantic relationship... for his own good

[blainesebastian]

ex-something

word count: 11,109 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: NC-17 (for some smut, suggestive sexual language and expletives) summary: Just because you and Nick are broken up doesn’t mean that you’re over one another. notes: really appreciate the overwhelmingly positive response on my first nick x reader post :) hope this is just as enjoyable! i have a masterlist! notes 2: gifs from this gif pack

You get it—relationships change, that’s true with anything. You’ve had friendships that have evaporated into thin air or have fused together thanks to one night, boyfriends who promise they’d hand you the moon but couldn’t even show up when you needed them. You’re also different, you’re not the same person from year to year, nor day to day. Small, minute shifts sometimes make the greatest ripple effects. It’s good to see how something can adapt, how you can realize one thing and decide on another. 

Maybe you should have realized that you and Nick were never going to work—a thought that’s ugly that sprouts in your mind like a weed. Like ivy twisting around your ribcage and squeezing. You know him like the back of your hand, have been part of the same circles for so long—the orbiting around one another felt inevitable. 

So maybe the disintegration was too. 

Nick’s come a long way since you’ve known him in opening up, both of you bringing so much baggage to the table that you could no longer see the surface. Everyone has their own weight to carry, their own shit to get through, but it felt like…what you were carrying was no longer heavy when he was around. You both shared things, secrets in the dark, things you felt like couldn’t be shared with anyone else. While that should have caused the bond between you to strengthen, it created cracks and fragments that were sharp enough to cut the skin. 

Nick has trouble trusting that people won’t leave him, and you have trouble trusting that something will last the way it’s supposed to. As awful as it sounds, you never thought you and Nick would be together long-term. It’s not about him, but about yourself—about not deserving something good, about losing someone you were never supposed to have in the first place. 

When you began to pull away, creating distance and space, Nick overcompensated by yanking harder. He leaves you before you can leave him. The break-up, though surprising, is…somehow amicable, even though the devastation of it ending was clear on both your faces. Like a roadmap of a decimated city, the skyline crumbling into itself. 

The sudden destruction is so ugly that neither of you can look away. There’s regret almost instantly, that much is obvious, and yet neither of you speak up to change anything. You just…part ways, Nick leaving first.

You let him go, you allow him to push you and keep that chasm of space, because it was never meant to work out, right? 

“He’s in love with you, babe,” Jenna tells you one night over her house. “That’s never gonna change.” 

“Guess not enough.” You mumble—but you’re not innocent. You didn’t chase after him. 

“Well I never said he was smart,” Jenna teases, attempting to lighten the mood, and a smile twitches the corners of your mouth but you can’t reply. You shake your head, running a hand over the side of your face before lying back on her bed. 

But Nick is smart. He’s smart, and calculated, and even though he sometimes thinks with his fists, he knows the consequences of actions before he makes them. He knows exactly what choice he’s made and why he’s done it. 

Which is one of the reasons you can’t bring yourself to tell him he’s wrong. 

—

You miss Nick like you never knew you could. It’s one of those cliché things that you don’t understand what’s missing until it’s gone. There’s an absence that feels like a force, that sits on your chest, that makes it hard to breathe. An ache that begins behind your ribs and pulses outward. You miss things that aren’t altogether obvious—things you never knew you thought about until they pop-tap-pop like morse code in your mind. 

You miss his hands, the way they felt on your body, his fingers brushing through your hair or lingering along your hip. The squeeze on your knee or the gentle pattern of circles along your spine. You miss his mouth, the way the corner quirked up when he found something ridiculous, the way it felt on your own, his lips on your cheek, your shoulder, between your legs. You miss the way your bodies felt lined up, curled up in bed to sleep or slotting together during sex. You miss the sounds he used to make. You miss the gentle crinkle of his nose before he laughed, you miss that too; the laughing. 

But most of all you miss the way he stood by you, protected you, cared about you, a driving power that’d run anyone else over if you needed something. You miss the way he made you feel loved, actual love—something real and tangible and consistent. Something you didn’t know you deserved. 

It’s too late to take back what you’ve done and you lay awake at night, sometimes, wondering what would have happened if you would have tried to talk to him instead of letting your thoughts get the best of you. 

—

Just because you and Nick are broken up doesn’t mean that you’re over one another. 

—

Jenna drags you to Anna’s party—literally, she has to drag you. 

“Enough moping,” She sing-songs. “Time to put on your tightest dress and your best lipstick and have a fucking good time.” 

You roll your eyes but…she’s not wrong. So you follow her lead. Little black dress, comfortable shoes, red lipstick. It brings out the color of your eyes, it matches with the tiny, ruby, heart-shaped earrings you’re wearing and it draws people to look at your lips. But most of all? It makes you feel good. Your mother has always had a saying, to ‘dress your best when you feel your worst’, and you suppose that’s what you’re doing. 

Surviving. 

And sometimes? That’s more than okay. 

“Wish this party wasn’t here, though.” You comment, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you enter the lavish home of Anna. Anna who is probably salivating at the concept that Nick’s single again. You’re sure he’s here tonight, you don’t need to ask Jenna to know. You smooth your fingers along your dress, adjusting your small purse so it sits on your hip. 

You and Jenna wouldn’t exactly call Anna a friend…a frenemy, maybe? Maybe not. But Jenna smiles over her shoulder, “Shouldn’t let her expensive booze go to waste, should we?” 

You let out a soft laugh—you suppose that’s true. 

The night swirls forward with a lot of dancing, a messy game of darts, and almost too many shots. You roll your hips to the beat of the music, a grin on your face as Jenna bounces in time to the base, her hands finding yours and squeezing before giving you a twirl. It’s in that spin that you see him, leaning against the back of the couch on the outskirts, watching you. 

Or maybe that’s a trick of the light, or the hazy alcohol licking your common sense. Either way, you don’t look back over your shoulder towards him, you can’t. You wish that Jenna doesn’t call over the music that she needs water, because your knees suddenly feel like jello at the concept of staying on this makeshift dance floor alone. So you don’t. 

You make your way through the crowd to follow her, lingering, and hate yourself for your eyes being pulled from the task at hand…towards Nick. 

He looks gorgeous tonight, but you suppose that’s not a surprise. Jeans, a white t-shirt, an oversized jacket. It’s pretty textbook and yet it’s enough to practically sway you off kilter. Without being close to him, you can smell the leather of his jacket, the expensive cologne, something purely him tying it all together. You can feel the heat of his body, the chill of the thin silver chain he’s wearing and the rings on his fingers over your skin. 

An ache begins low in your stomach, which only turns sour when his eyes flitter to you and then look away. It’s so quick it feels like a slap to the face, his own expression impassive, like he has a million better things to do than be standing around at this party. You know his masks well, the ones he puts on when he thinks no one is looking, the ones he peeled off when he was around you. You know this is his favorite one—pretending he doesn’t care, when he does. 

Chewing on your lower lip, you take a step towards him though you’re not sure why. To speak to him, maybe? To make a joke about how his face looks like it was carved in stone? That if he keeps making that expression it’s going to stick like that. But then he shifts when someone comes up beside him—

fucking Anna. 

You stop short, trying to tell yourself to turn around, to get some water, to go back to having fun with Jenna. And yet, like a car crash, you can’t seem to look away. Anna has always been obvious about her feelings for Nick, whether it’s something genuine or just purely physical—it doesn’t matter. She practically molds herself to his side, a pretty grin on her face, talking about something that you can’t hear about—but her hand glides down his arm. 

There’s a small, gentle tilt to Nick’s lips, ever so subtle, but it’s enough to make it feel like the floor is opening up underneath you. 

Turning on your heel, you move through the crowd towards the bathroom, trying to quell the nausea rolling in your stomach. You try to tell yourself that you’re overreacting, that it’s not fair for you to have a reaction like this, that Nick is single and he can do whatever the fuck he wants… regardless that Anna is the worst. 

It hasn’t been too long since you’ve broken up, and yet you find yourself trying to rationalize that it shouldn’t hurt like this. You know that’s a defense mechanism, that trying to convince yourself that you’re okay is just something to keep yourself from hurting. But maybe it’d be good to feel that hurt, to let it in instead of shoving it deep in a box that’ll remain unopened. 

Maybe if you let yourself hurt, you wouldn’t be spiraling over Nick’s almost smile at Anna. 

When you go for the bathroom door, it’s locked, and a groan leaves your lips because of course. Running a hand over your forehead, you lean back against the opposite wall, waiting, allowing your eyes to close as your head tips back. 

“You look a little nauseous.” 

Nick’s voice jolts you out of your position against the wall, almost setting you off balance. When your eyes dart to him, there’s that playful quirk to his lips, warm amusement in his brown eyes. His jacket is missing—you hate that you wonder if it’s around Anna’s shoulders. You straighten your shoulders, letting out a breath as you turn to look at him. 

He’s not wrong, you are nauseous. But it’s not from the alcohol. “Think this house just does that to me.” 

Nick smirks, shaking his head as he takes a few steps towards you. He stops short, too short, leaning his shoulder against the wall. His eyes dance over your form, making you squirm, hating how he seems to see right through you. Like you’re made of glass. Heat gathers low in your stomach and pulses between your legs, that familiar ache comes back in the center of your chest. You miss him and you fucking hate that you do. 

Tearing your gaze away, you curl your hair around your ear, glancing back towards the bathroom door. Sheesh, what is someone doing in there? 

“Is it the house or is it someone in particular?” 

You scoff out a soft laugh—fuck, he’s got a lot of nerve. “Is that any of your business?” 

The smile he gives you is something slow and knowing, his gaze wandering to your lips, lingering on the red lipstick there. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, fluttering up towards your ribs, living there on the bones. The way he’s looking at you digs under your skin in the best way. 

“Think it’s completely my business.” He replies, sticking his one hand in his pocket. You can picture his fingers flexing, maybe trying to resist touching you. You love the sound of that. It’s one of the reasons you decide to flip the script, to take a little power back when he won’t stop staring at your mouth. Two can play this game—whatever game this is. 

Taking a step towards him, you say, “Is my lipstick your business?” 

Nick draws in a slow breath, it may seem causal, but you can see the heat darken the color of his eyes. Regardless of how things have played out between you two, things that maybe should have never happened in the first place (breaking up sounds like it was a stupid idea), you know that you feel safe with him. It’s that safeness that has you eliminating space, the toe of your shoe bumping into his. 

He’s not that much taller than you but it feels like he’s towering, eyes zeroed in on your lips. He lifts his hand, brushing his thumb over your lower one, purposely smudging your red lipstick, 

“You never seemed to be jealous of anyone when we were together.” He whispers, his breath fluttering over your cheek and yet it feels like a bucket of ice water tossed over you.  A reminder. Dick. 

You lean further into his touch, your noses bumping, close enough to kiss him but you don’t. Nick goes dangerously still and licks his lips. 

“Unsurprised that you didn’t seem to know me very well.” 

And with that you pull back, putting distance between your bodies. You wish it was enough to get your head on straight. Nick rubs his fingers over his thumb, erasing any traces of lipstick, like it never even happened. 

You wished it didn’t sting to see it. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to keep Anna waiting.” You cross your arms over your chest, a clear defensive move but almost creating a shield as well, protecting yourself. 

You’re not looking at him but he lingers, a soft hum leaving his lips. He then moves to the bathroom door that…still hasn’t opened? Jesus, who’s in there? Though you try not to think about how often you and Nick found an empty bathroom during a party, a dark corner, a place where hands could roam and lips could nip. 

He jiggles the handle and pushes, your mouth falling slightly open—

“The door sticks,” He says, amused, eyes bright. And then turns to head back down the hall. 

Well, fuck. 

—

Nick leaves the party before you do but you’re not going to deny that you feel a zing of enjoyment that Anna’s left behind. And she looks pissed. 

—

Time crawls forward—it’s somehow achingly slow at the same time that it spins like a top. You and Nick are unfortunately like magnets, stuck in one another’s orbit. You suppose that’s the downside of having the same group of friends, seeing one another is unavoidable. It’s not…the worst thing, despite the prickly conversations you’ve been having. You know the fallout is a reflection on how good your relationship could be. There’s still strong emotions lingering—guilt, regret, love. It stains everything around you both. 

There’s a moment that comes and goes, just like your feelings, about having a conversation with Nick. About explaining to him why you were pulling away—that your parents have a shit relationship, that their divorce and their problems and their burdens sometimes sit in your bloodstream in a way you can’t put into words. You’re used to people disappointing you, you’re used to relationships not carrying merit—the only good one you’ve ever been in had been with Nick. And sometimes you were afraid that you weren’t worthy of it, that eventually he’d realize it too. 

That he’d leave. That all good things come to an end. 

Maybe then he’d crack wide open and explain that he likes to hurt people before they can hurt him. That it was a mistake. 

That you can start over. 

That thought is gone as quickly as it comes. Everything happens for a reason, right? There’s no need to go backwards when you need to focus on what’s ahead. Just because a relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean that…you and Nick can’t be what you were before. 

Friends. Good friends. 

—

“Can you check again, please?” You ask, rubbing the back of your neck as you hold up a line at this charity event that your parents were supposed to attend. 

Well—your parents decided to get a divorce three months ago and neither of them wanted to get dressed up and go. You get it, you really do, they don’t want to spend time with one another anymore. They want to continue separating their assets and not be in one another’s lives unless they have to. You're the bridge between and that’s…that’s something you’re coming to terms with. 

You tried to explain to both of them that you’ve been wanting to go to this, that this charity event is about donating money to cleaning up the ocean. That plastic removal and creating turtle sanctuaries and doubling-up efforts on proper recycling is really important to you. It always has been—this shouldn’t be some sort of surprise. 

And yet neither of them can get their shit together to just be present. To go with you. 

So whatever, fine. At this point you’re used to feeling like you’re doing things by yourself, and that’s how you decide you’re going to go. By yourself. 

Except for some reason, your name isn’t on the guest list. 

Vanessa, who’s in the same social circles as you, scowls behind the podium. She must be some sort of volunteer in whatever rotations that rich kids fall into, her nose wrinkling as she taps her fingers down the so-called list that you’re missing from. 

“Sorry—who are you again?” 

You feel your cheeks heat in frustration, refusing to get flustered even though you’re sure that’s her intention. There’s this group of girls that are always hanging out with Anna at any party you’ve ever been to. Vanessa knows exactly who you are. 

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, can feel people getting restless behind you, wanting to get inside to escape the chill in the evening air. You’re not sure whether your parents took themselves off the guest list when they decided they weren’t attending or whether Vanessa is just being a bitch. 

“Y/N,” You say your name and add your last, just in case there’s any confusion. 

Vanessa purses her lips, about to say something nasty, when her gaze catches something over your shoulder. Her entire demeanor changes—her shoulders relax, there’s an easy smile on her face, eyes soft. You already know who it is before he speaks. 

“Is there a problem?” Nick asks, the warmth of his body at your back. You feel yourself bristle, not turning around. 

“Nick, hi,” Vanessa offers. 

Nick ignores her, his gaze falling to your own when you finally tip your chin. You turn a little, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s dressed in all black; slacks, dress shirt, overcoat, it makes the softness of his brown eyes and the golden curls in his hair stick out even more. 

“You alright?” He lifts his eyes away from you just briefly and you know he’s checking the crowd for your parents who aren’t there. 

“She’s not on the guest list.” Vanessa sounds altogether too pleased at informing him. 

“Your parents made these reservations months ago,” His attention doesn’t waver from you.  

You swallow, giving him a small smile as another podium opens up to get guests inside since this one is obviously backlogged. You resist the urge to just give up, to head back down the steps and go home.

“I know.” You reply, and Nick’s head tips back just slightly, recognition flashing in his eyes. Months ago. Your parents. The divorce. 

He turns to Vanessa, finally acknowledging her. “There’s space at my table for her.” 

“Nick,” You say gently, touched by the sentiment, by him trying to help, as Vanessa visibly bristles. 

“All the tables are filled—“

Nick cuts her right off, voice cold and sharp as glass. “Then I suggest you figure it out, Vanessa, because Y/N’s my plus one.” 

Vanessa scoffs, waving us in, muttering whatever under her breath. Nick’s hand falls to your lower back, encouraging you to step forward to walk inside. You roll your lips together, glad you’re not wearing lipstick tonight before turning to look at him in front of the coat-check. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

Nick gives you a soft smile, motioning you to turn around so he can help you take your coat off. “Like I’d get in-between you and saving the otters tonight.” 

You can’t help the bubble of laughter that threatens to slip out, amusement pulling your mouth into an honest smile. Something warm and comfortable and feels far too familiar with him. 

“Sea turtles.” You correct. “I’m worried about the sea turtles.” 

You’re not sure why he’s here if he doesn’t really know what the event is for, but you bite down on the inside of your cheek from saying that to him. A twinge of warmth butterflies your stomach in hopes that he came because he knew you’d be here. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” 

Your lips twitch and you smooth your hands down your dress, removing imaginary wrinkles. “Thank you.” You add. 

Nick’s hand slides effortlessly into yours to tug you towards the open doors and awaiting tables. He doesn’t say anything back, but he does squeeze your fingers. 

—

When you donate an amount at that charity event, Nick doubles it. 

—

It’s easy to get lost in those simple touches, it’s always been something so easy between you and Nick. That communication runs deep. Sometimes, you think, that words often get in the way. A misplaced phrase, a misunderstanding, syllables stuck under tongues or behind teeth. There’s never been any confusion in how you touch one another, in how Nick’s hands convey a love language that maybe words can’t. 

The problem is that touch between you two is sometimes too much, too honest, too real. Too complicated. 

How are you supposed to move on and get over him if you’re constantly near one another? If one brush of his fingers turns into a playful squeeze at your hip, if one lingering gaze ignites into him brushing his lips against your temple? 

You convince yourself that you can somehow create space, that it won’t be so difficult, that the universe has to be on your side here—that even though it’s hard? It’ll be good for you in the long run. 

Turns out the universe is a bitch. 

—

There’s too many moving bodies on the dance floor, it pushes you and Nick closer and closer together. 

To be fair, you’re in a tight circle of friends and beats are pulsing through the tight spaces. You’re in a tiny slip dress, a pair of high-top converse sneakers to move easily, which just ends up being a bunch of bouncing and swaying to the beat at a wicked pace. Jenna’s grin is wide as she throws her arms around you and you laugh, tipping your head back towards the ceiling. 

You love nights like this, the feeling of freedom, your heartbeat loud in your ears, no concerns other than when the next drink is gonna be bought. Lion tugs your dance partner away, twirling her into a circle and you back up to avoid the spin—

And bump right into Nick. 

The man is like black hole—endless, all-encompassing. He’s dressed simply, but he could probably wear a paper bag and still have the same sex appeal. Lean, tapered body, intricate line tattoos on muscled biceps and you try not to think about the set of Roman numerals that you used to love to kiss on his collarbone. You’re close enough to see the light sheen of sweat sticking to his skin, deepening the scent of his cologne and him somehow. You want to run your hands through his curls and tug—

You must show how you feel right on your face because Nick steps closer, his hand reaching for you, sliding it around your waist to pull you flush against him. It’s so confident and knowing that it nearly takes you out at your knees. 

You know you could pull away and that he’d let you, but the moment his fingers curl against your back, the moment he gathers a bit of the fabric of your dress between his fingers—you know you’re not going anywhere. 

The weight and heat of his body against your own feels like coming home. 

You dance like that for a while, pressed against one another, your arms resting on top of his shoulders, fingers against his neck, curling into the bottom of his hair. He slips close enough at one point to press a kiss to your shoulder, something that you ignore. You have to. 

And yet your fingers dig into his shoulders and Nick pulls back, eyes dark, on your lips. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re about to say something, maybe mention grabbing water or stepping outside—but Nick’s thumb begins to trace circles through the thin material of your dress against the underwear line on your hip. A struggled gasp leaves your lips, and he must feel it more than hear it, a slow smile curving his handsome mouth. 

“I need to—“ You take a step back, almost running into someone else. Nick’s arms stabilize you from stumbling, even though he eventually lets you go. You immediately regret opening your mouth. “Bathroom.” 

You turn and make a b-line towards the restrooms before he can say anything. The sharp coolness off the dance floor manages to shake reality into focus and you run a hand over your face, a soft laugh rumbling in your chest. 

Jesus. 

You don’t end up using the bathroom, just leaning against the wall near them and breathing, trying to center yourself. It’s blissfully devoid of people back here and you need that. Your body aches in a delicious way, a throb of heat still present between your legs. 

And apparently it’s not going to go away, because Nick rounds the corner. 

“Nick—” His name barely slips out from between your teeth before he’s pressed against you again, and your resolve goes right out the fucking window, your mouth crashing down onto his. 

You thread your fingers into his hair and yank him forward and you can feel him chuckle against your body as he has to balance himself with his hands on the wall on either side of you. His thigh slides between your legs and a full body shudder passes through you as you allow yourself to lean down into him. 

Fuck. 

Nick pulls back just a little, brushing your lips together. His hand slides between you, tugging your dress up so that the only thing between your cunt and his jeans are your underwear. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, mouth at your ear. “I can stop.” 

That’s something you’ve always loved about Nick—he checks on you, he makes sure you’re okay. Doesn’t matter if it’s something soft or like this, heated and desperate. You know you shouldn’t—you know that this will only complicate things that are already complicated…

And yet you don’t want to stop. 

“No,” You reply, assure your response with your hips pivoting down, grinding against his leg. Nick’s hands fall to your waist, holding you in place, a groan vibrating in his chest. 

The pulse of the music is muffled, you can hear the uptick in his breathing, can feel how hard he is against you. You’re not ashamed of the tiny whimpers that leave your lips as you roll your hips down against him, the pressure incredible but not enough—he feels so fucking good. You’ve missed him terribly. All logical thought evaporates when his one hand comes up and cups your breast through your slip dress. 

“Can feel how wet you are for me,” Nick says. “Desperate for it, aren’t you?” 

Jesus. You need more. You need him to help—to do something. You can only use the momentum of your legs to get off on him to a certain point. There’s not enough leverage, there’s not enough friction to sate the heated ache quickly building in your lower belly. 

“I—I need—”

“No,” He nips at your lower lip. “If you want to cum, you’re gonna have to do it just like this.” 

An exasperated noise leaves your mouth, and you’re stuck between wanting to throttle him and kiss him. He drags your hips down, and you wish his fingers were inside of you, wish his thumb was circling your clit. The thought alone is enough to uptick your pleasure, and you’re so fucking close. 

“Nick,” You moan, “Please.” 

He licks his lips, smiling a little as his hand tugs down your dress over your breast. “So polite.” He teases, before he dips his head, taking your nipple into his mouth. 

There’s a snap of your hips when he drags his teeth over your puckered flesh and then you’re shattering. He holds your body up as you shudder, waves of pleasure slamming into you like the base of the music pulsing in your ears. 

He doesn’t let you go, even when your breathing settles, even when his leg moves out from between your thighs. You’re sure you look absolutely wrecked—you feel it. Underwear ruined, sweat sticking some of your hair to your neck, your heart thrumming for a completely different reason. 

Your eyes find Nick’s, the port that’s always been in the center of your storm, and a sudden thick emotion lodges itself in your throat. 

“I miss you.” You choke out, blaming the almost waterworks on endorphins, on the bliss that’s still kissing your nerve endings. 

Nick visibly swallows, brushing your hair over your shoulder after he fixes your dress. You think he might say something, he even opens his mouth, but no words come. 

Jesus. One good orgasm and you’re tumbling head over tincups into emotions too heavy to come with words. Nick broke up with you—you should be furious, you should push him away, except this is how the whole problem started. You pushed first. 

You straighten your shoulders and he takes a step back. You expect him to turn and leave, but he doesn’t, hovering—waiting? You’re not sure for what. He runs both of his hands through his hair, as if to compose himself, as if there’s words stuck in his throat that he doesn’t know how to say. 

Instead of saying anything at all, he reaches his hand out for you to take. A peace offering, of sorts, a promise that even though things aren’t okay, the door isn’t completely closed off. 

You discreetly wipe away a tear that’s slipped down your cheek and take his hand. 

—

You don’t talk about what happened at the club but things don’t change between you. It’s the same heavy glances, the same shared, soft smiles, the same brushing of fingers and calling it an accident. 

It should be fucked up. But it’s not. 

—

You haven’t been to an underground car show and race in a while, so the thrum of engines and the smell of gasoline is exciting. Comforting, even. You come with Jenna even though you know Nick will be there. Avoidance doesn’t work and trying to ignore the crackling energy between you two just…ends up with you getting off on his leg in a darkened corner at a club. 

“Don’t get me wrong, babe,” Jenna says over her shoulder as she moves to lean against her car. “I love Nick, I really do. But…whatever this is between you two—”

“I know,” You put your hand up to stop her. 

She smiles a little, “I was hopin’ you two would talk, figure it out.” 

“Oh, you mean you ruining my favorite pair of underwear wasn’t ‘figuring it out’?” You laugh a little, rubbing the back of your neck. Despite it probably not being the best decision…you can’t find yourself regretting it either. 

You still love Nick. You don’t think that’ll change. 

You look down at your shoes, a pair of sneakers, high waisted jeans  and a crop t-shirt. You’re showing off your shape but nothing that overdoes it; comfortable. You feel like you need that tonight. 

“I told him I missed him.” In an orgasm induced haze, but still. “And he didn’t say anything.” 

You know Nick isn’t exactly very forward with his words all the time, his actions speak the loudest. But…you needed to hear something then, you needed some sort of assurance that…maybe you both made a mistake. 

Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on your part. You can’t quite picture ripping yourself wide open to talk to him about why you pulled away if he can’t admit he purposely let you go. 

You run a hand over the side of your face, glancing over at another set of cars pulling up and guys getting out, greeting one another, the space turning into an outside party with music and beer. While you’re glad you came, it’s been a while, part of you feels like curling under your comforter at home with a book. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to branch out?” Jenna asks, tossing an arm over your shoulder. “Not saying you need to have another orgasm,” You laugh softly. “But maybe talking to some handsome strangers wouldn’t hurt either.” 

You breathe in through your nose, looking out at the crowd of cars and people. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt. 

—

Turns out talking to guys about cars is fun. You don’t know much about them? But they like responding to your questions—and none of it has been mansplaining, which you’re grateful for. You’re really not in the mood tonight…just trying to sink into your own skin, enjoy something that’s a little different, not think about Nick. 

Even though you can feel his eyes on you. 

You know he’s here because you saw him drive in, park his car, and find Lion and Jenna. He doesn’t come find you; wouldn’t be surprised if Jenna told him to give you some space. Either way, you can feel his gaze every so often, lingering, something open and warm that you miss. That you feel like you can dive right into. 

Your heart flutters in your chest as you lock eyes, the guy you were talking to, Pete, headed to the bathroom. Nick crosses the pavement, giving you a small wave. 

“Hi.” 

You smile, the word somehow too simple , but you say it back. You try to think of something else to say, to fill the space between you, 

“There’s not a race tonight, is there?” 

His eyebrows crinkle together, smiling, “Why? Did you want to give driving a shot?” 

You laugh and he takes a step closer, “No, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Even when you’re driving too fast sometimes I get nauseous.” 

“I’m always under the speed limit.” 

“You are not,” You scoff out a sound but you’re grinning. 

“Very responsible,” Nick tacks on with a playful tilt of his lips, sticking his hands into his pockets. 

The banter is familiar but it makes you miss him even more. That gnawing pit in your stomach rears its ugly head as you think about the other night, about saying something so vulnerable and it not being reciprocated. Nick must see the shadow pass over your face because he clears his throat, tilting his head in the direction of the bathrooms. 

“I’m gonna—” He trails off and he turns to leave but then pauses, “I’ll see you later?” 

The question sinks into your skin and blooms before you give him a small nod. You then look at your shoes, unable to watch him walk away. 

—

Having another sip of the drink in your hand, you smile as Pete finishes his semi-cute rant about the first car he ever owned. Some sort of thing he and dad fixed up together, which is how he’s come to love cars. It’s nice, having that connection to something special, something that becomes a passion project. You thought for a long time that might be art for you but…you’ve learned that you’re much more someone who appreciates viewing art than creating it. Maybe you’ll end up going to school for something that involves the ocean.

Shifting on your feet, you curl your hair away from your face. There’s a soft headache pinching the back of your head, behind your ear, but it’s probably from the muffled sound of music constantly pulsing against the concrete down here. 

“So would you say you like driving or fixing up cars more?” You ask, running your thumb over the rim of the cup. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his gaze narrows to someone behind you. Turning, you come face to face with Nick, who looks furious. It’s not so much in his face, it’s the way he’s holding his body—like a tight band about to snap. He zeroes in on the cup in your hand, 

“Give that to me.” 

You blink, “What? No.” Seriously? You thought you kinda parted from one another on good terms and now he’s here? In your business while you’re trying to talk to a guy? To have a decent night that doesn’t include him? 

You open up your mouth–

“Y/N.” There's something in the way that he says your name that makes you feel cold, your gaze wandering down to the cup. It only takes a moment to connect to dots about why Nick would approach you like this, pissed. A sour feeling develops in your stomach, connecting to pinpricks of dread as the cup leaves your hand.

Nick takes it, your fingers brushing, setting it down on the pavement. And as if he wasn't moving carefully before, he suddenly whirls his body in precise movements, suckerpunching Pete in the face. His body bows and he lands on the ground, screaming about his face—

"You broke my fucking nose!"

"You think someone wasn't going to hear you in the bathroom, you fuck?" He snaps and you stumble a step back, bumping into the driver's side of a car nearby. You’re trying to piece together what’s going on but your thoughts are sluggish, which just serves to make you feel more panicked. 

"I didn't know she was your girlfriend, man, she said she was single." 

You put your hand over your mouth, swaying a little on your feet, though you're not sure if it's because Pete...he put something in your drink or because of the blood on Nick's knuckles as he throws another punch, this time hitting him square in the jaw. Pete's head snaps back like a ragdoll but all he does is groan. 

It’s unclear if Nick says anything else because the garage begins to spin and you let out a short, sharp breath, bending a little at your waist to close your eyes. Fuck. Whatever Pete gave you? It's strong and working fast—you only had a few sips of that drink. Terrifying to think if you'd been alone with him...

Someone comes up beside you and wraps an arm around your waist and you begin to squirm until you hear Nick's voice against your ear, "Shh, it's me." A small, uncomfortable whimper leaves your lips—your body feels weird, like it's disconnected. Bone by bone, muscle by muscle. Your cheeks are hot and your stomach is dipping in nausea. "I know, I got you. Hold onto me." 

You stretch your arm across his shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut as everything spins. There's movement, but you have no idea how you're even walking with how heavily you're leaning into Nick's side. 

Flashes of movement, sound, and pitches of light. You can feel warm leather underneath your body, head lolled back against the headrest, Jenna's voice? Then Nick's. 

"No, I got her." He closes a door, opens up another, "I get it Jenn, but it’s not happening. I’m not leaving her.” Confusion prickles along your forehead, unable to make heads or tails of that conversation. You want to ask but your veins feel like they're filled with cotton as the world goes black. 

--

Sleep is uncomfortable and dreamless. You wake up several times with a pounding headache, a sour stomach, and shaking that makes you feel like there aren’t enough blankets in the world to keep you warm. When you wake up and it sticks, you blink as you try to get your vision to adjust. The room is a little dark, sun trying to shine through drawn curtains. There’s an anvil that’s been placed on your head, there has to be, because when you turn to lie on your back the pain in your temples is unheard of. 

You close your eyes again, pinching the space between your nose and forehead with your fingers. It doesn’t help. A weight sits down near your legs, an arm stretched over them. When you manage to pry your eyelids back again, Nick comes into slow focus. He looks tired, eyes not as bright, curls a bit mussed. 

“How you feeling?” He asks, voice nearly a whisper. 

“Like I swallowed a tire and then was run over.” You wince, sitting up just a little, which somehow makes everything worse. Your hand covers your face and Nick threads his fingers through your hair, brushing the strands over your shoulder. The room is quiet for the moment, birds chirping outside, the even movement of Nick drawing in breath. 

“I can't believe this happened,” You mumble, “I feel like an idiot.”

“This isn't on you,” He says, voice gentle but firm. “If Pete knows what's good for him, he'll never think about doing shit like that again.”

You raise your eyebrows, the corner of your mouth twitching in a smile as you finally look at him. “What are you, like, the mafia? Did you cut off his hands?”

A wisp of a smile, and yet something dark in those eyes that make you swallow, “No, but I did threaten to slam them in his car door if I ever saw him at another event you were at.”

You shake your head even though your entire body bursts with warmth. What does it say about you? That you're willing to accept such a violent sentiment? You draw in a long breath through your nose. Maybe a thought for another day when you don't feel so sick. 

One of Nick's hands lace through yours, his thumb brushing circles around your knuckles. "Seeing you like that..." He was scared, you realize, you can see it on his face—plain as day. He's quiet for a moment, licking his lips before he speaks again, 

"Can I get you anything?" 

You shake your head, not wanting him to leave, drawing in a breath as you finally notice that you're in his bedroom and not your own. You pick up hints of the smell of laundry detergent and his shampoo on his sheets. He drove you back to his place, 

"Didn't think I'd end up in your bed any time soon." It's a small joke, just something to break what feels like a vice-like tension around your ribs. 

Nick's gaze holds your own for a moment, something unweighted and unsaid, "I miss you here." 

You swallow over an instant lump in your throat and you have to tear your eyes away and blink, trying to get rid of the sudden onslaught of tears. Partly because of the situation that landed you here, but also because you didn't realize how much you needed to hear him say it, to hold that same sentiment as you. 

You sniffle, a tear slipping down your cheek as you try to play off the comment with a light laugh, "Well your bed does have the best pillows." 

Nick doesn't reply but instead leans forward until his arms are wrapped around your back, gently pulling you to his chest. His one hand slips through your hair as you press your face into his shoulder, while the other rubs up and down your back in firm, even strokes. 

Nothing is fixed between you two, not by a long-shot. But some of the visible cracks, you think, begin to heal. 

—

You were wrong. 

That much is clear. You’ve had so many good moments with Nick that you’re not sure why you allowed your unfounded anxiety to control you, to convince you of something that wasn’t true. But that time spent with him in his bedroom after the whole Pete thing only solidifies what you’ve been feeling for a while. 

You fucked up. 

You pulled away based solely on fears that were baseless, something you thought you didn’t have a claim to. But you do. You do deserve to have someone be there for you, to take care of you, to look out for you. To miss you. 

You’re ready to own that you didn’t make the best choice…but Nick needs to own his mess too. 

Y/N: Can we talk? 

It takes a little for your phone to buzz— Nick: You’re not gonna convince me that diner food is somehow better than Italian, you’re just not. 

A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth, Y/N: I mean…

You’ve had this banter back and forth before and it’s easy to fall back into similar patterns, something comforting. That feels like home. 

Nick: You’ve never had homemade carbonara. Life-changing. 

Y/N: Are you offering? 

Not what you were originally trying to text him about but spending time with him wouldn’t suck, either. Who says you can’t bring up past mistakes over pasta? You chew on your lower lip, as you wait for a response. 

Nick: What do you want to talk about? Nick: I might be out of London next week, my dad is traveling for work and I think I’m gonna go with him.

You stare at the messages for a moment, almost getting whiplash. You know that tone completely disappears sometimes with texting but…you also get the sense that you and Nick are on the same page. And he doesn’t want to be. 

You swallow over unspoken words in your throat, not wanting to lose your nerve. If Nick leaves, you’re almost worried that you’ll be at square one when he gets back. 

Y/N: Something important. 

You curl your hair around your ear, pulling yourself up in bed. You do your best not to pace, trying to clean up your room instead, something more productive than wearing the carpet down. When your phone pings, you deny practically diving for it. 

Nick: Then I’ll make time for you. 

—

That conversation doesn’t happen. Not because neither of you want it to happen, but because the next day, your grandmother passes away. It’s not something you were expecting—you thought your grandma was in pretty good health for her age. You just saw her a month ago…went over to her house, baked cookies and watched episodes of Magnum P.I., because your grandmother’s thirsting commentary over Tom Selleck was one of your favorite things to participate in. 

You were close. Sometimes you talked to her about relationships  because she was married to your grandfather until he died a few years ago. They were in love in a way that made you feel like…like maybe it’s one of the best and worst things to happen to someone. That maybe not all relationships are doomed from the start. Your gram talked about her husband every day, even after he passed, something warm and gentle in her eyes. That love never faded. 

Sometimes you and her talked about Nick. 

When your parents tell you, you don’t cry. You just kind of stand there staring at them, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to turn this into a warped joke, a morbid sense of humor. It doesn’t feel real. How does one day have your grandmother in it and then the next just…doesn’t? How are you supposed to keep going through each of them moving forward without her? Someone who was always willing to listen, someone who made you laugh and feel at home in your skin. 

Someone who just saw you. There’s only been one another person in your life that’s made you feel like that. 

The days slip forward but you don’t end up leaving your room, spending time in bed, unmoving. You ignore your laptop, your pinging phone that eventually dies, the pleas of your parents to eat something. You just…you can’t. Not right now. There’s an ache in your chest that is beyond anything you’ve ever felt before, it immobilizes you. In the back of your mind you know you should take care of yourself, that the last thing your grandmother would want is this. 

But today isn’t that day. 

You shift in bed, adjusting your head on your pillow, hearing your bedroom door open. You don’t turn to look at who it is—probably your mother, either setting food on your nightstand or maybe deciding she’s gonna force your hand. Yank the covers off and encourage you to get a shower. You cover your face with your hand, listening to the movements as the door closes again. 

Blankets are pulled back, but someone crawls in, your heart lurching into your throat as you realize who it is. 

Nick drags his hand down your arm, shuffling closer until his front maps against your back. “You don’t have to say anything,” He murmurs, “But I’m going to lay here with you. Alright?” 

You lick your lips, the bridge of your nose stinging as you realize he’s supposed to be gone this week. He mentioned he was going to travel with his dad and yet he’s here, with you, offering you comfort and space all at once. You lean back just a little into him, a silent reply, squeezing your eyes shut. Nick’s hand rubs your shoulder, thumb tracing back and forth along your elbow, a kiss pressed to the back of your neck. 

The weight of his body and the heat of his skin make tears gather in your eyes. You’re not sure how your heart can feel so full and empty all at the same time. Sniffling, you turn your body so that you’re facing him, Nick leaning back just a little. His hand comes to rest on your waist, his head perched on your one pillow. Your eyes begin to trace the soft blonde curls that are near his forehead, the slope of his nose, his strong jawline and full lips. 

He’s here—and you love him even more than you already do, which doesn’t feel possible. 

Nick’s eyes explore your face, his one hand cupping your cheek and brushing underneath your eye, removing invisible tears that haven’t fallen yet. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers. 

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying not to cry, but on the next intake of breath tears spill over your cheeks. You cover your face with one hand, your shoulders shuddering, and Nick closes the space between you. He draws you into his chest, tucking you under his chin, and you find yourself clinging to him as each sob wracks your body. All the pent up emotions you’ve had since you found out empty against his chest—and Nick takes it all. 

He steadies you, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame, pressing his nose and lips into your hair. He squeezes every so often, your fingers gathering his shirt into your hands as if you can ground yourself in him. 

“That’s it,” He threads his hand through your hair, rubbing his thumb against the back of your neck. “Just let it all out.” Nick knows you far too well, knows that you haven’t given yourself time to feel, to be. To let it all wash over you. That you need this and didn’t realize how much that was true until it was happening. 

You exhaust yourself, until you’re a mess of sniffles and stumbled breathing. Nick pulls back a little, cupping both sides of your face to brush your hair behind your ears. He presses a kiss to your forehead, reaching over your shoulder to grab a few tissues from the box on your nightstand. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is a bit strained from lack of use and you try your best to clean up your face, crumpling the tissues into your palms. You’re not just thanking him for the tissues though, it’s for everything, for being here. 

Your chest hurts but…you feel a little bit better. You’re not sure when you’ll feel like yourself again, but it’s a good, small, first step. Your gaze finds Nick’s, who’s watching you with a careful expression. Not because he thinks you might start crying again, but because he’s concerned. Worried. You lift your hand and brush your thumb over his lower lip, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I love you.” You tell him, feeling him go still beneath your touch. You know this might not be the best time, that maybe these thick, heavy emotions are driving forth how you make decisions, but…if anything? You’ve just been reminded that life is short. That you shouldn’t go through it without sharing how you feel about things, about people. 

“I know it’s…I know we still have to talk and I understand if—” If you don’t feel the same way, is what you want to say but the words get trapped underneath your tongue. 

Nick’s hand falls to your neck, tipping your chin up with his thumb, “I love you too.” He replies, stealing the air right from your lungs. “That’ll never change.” He holds your gaze a moment, playfully pinching your chin between his thumb and fingers. “Okay?” 

You give him a soft, watery smile, nodding before he tucks you in close again. 

Nick stays as long as you need him. 

—

A handful of weeks pass by—the pain of losing your grandmother doesn’t completely disappear. But you do feel better. They say that time is capable of healing all wounds, and maybe that’s true, but honestly? You think it has everything to do with Nick. 

—

Jenna’s birthday is celebrated at her house, a large party underway. You’d expect nothing less at celebrating someone so vibrant. You’re over there early to help set up, to hang out and do your makeup, to eat a little too much cake with sweet icing. Her house fills up fast, people you’ve never even met before spilling into all the rooms of the lavish London estate. You’re looking for someone specific though. 

You and Nick haven’t spoken with the intention of clearing the air since your grandmother passed. He’s been giving you space to breathe and work through your emotions, which…you appreciate, but you don’t want space anymore. You don’t want to spend one more day caught between a ‘sometimes’ and an ‘almost’. 

“You seen Nick?” You call out to Lion who’s mixing drinks in the kitchen. 

“Playing pool I think.” He volleys back. 

Making your way through the crowd of people, you turn towards the dining room were the pool table is located, but stop short when you hear Anna—

“C’mon Nick, at the very least we used to be good friends.” 

“Jesus Anna, I’m just trying to take a piss.” Which tells you she cornered him outside the bathroom. You chew on your lower lip, debating turning the corner and revealing that you’re standing there or going about your business to the dining room…or maybe even go back the way you came. 

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping, you know you’d be annoyed if someone was listening in on you, but…your feet feel glued to the carpet. You’re not sure you can move even if you decided to. 

“I’m just trying to say,” Anna replies, softer than before. She must have stepped closer to him because her voice is no longer carrying like it was. “That I miss you.” 

There is no reply from Nick. 

“We’ve always known how to have a good time.” 

When Nick finally does speak, his voice is matter of fact, “That hasn’t been true for a long time.” 

Anna bristles, “I just thought that since you’re single now, free from that—”

“Don’t,” Nick interrupts, a warning. You can picture the muscle in his jaw working, the way it clenches when he begins to get pissed off. Then, “You thought wrong.” 

A door closes, effectively ending the conversation. You know you should probably move as Anna storms down the hallway, but you don’t and when she turns the corner, her eyes go wide. You straighten your shoulders at her scowl, offering her a bright smile…before heading in the direction she came from. 

Down the hall, towards Nick. 

You wait patiently outside the bathroom for the door to open, his eyebrows lifting in soft surprise as he sees you leaning against the far wall. Warm amusement blooms over his face, erasing the earlier attitude lines from his expression.  Nick’s shoulders drop from his ears, his entire demeanor relaxes around you, as if he’s peeling away a version of himself. That he’s showing you something real. You have no idea why you hadn’t noticed it before. 

He props himself against the doorframe, “This feels vaguely familiar.” He smirks, glancing down the empty hall. 

You move towards him, a fond smile on your face, “I was looking for you.” 

Nick draws in a soft breath, tipping his chin down as you come to stand in front of him. “How have you been doing?”

It’s a large question, one you’re not sure you have a complete answer for, but you love that he asks, “I’m alright,” You nod, “Some days are better than others.” 

He nods, silence stretching between you both but it’s not uncomfortable. Your heart hammers a little into your ears and you resist the urge to straighten your dress when you know it’s perfectly fine. 

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” You ask after a moment, “Anna waiting to have a good time?” 

Nick lets out a soft laugh that sounds like a breath leaving his nose, rolling his eyes, “Heard all that, did you?” 

And yes, you may have admitted that you were eavesdropping, but he doesn’t look put off in the slightest. “Was a valiant effort on her part.” 

His gaze is warm as he shakes his head and suddenly the silence between you two feels electrically charged. “She didn’t come close.” 

You feel heat splotch across the back of your neck and fuck, you have no idea what it is exactly about Nick and how he can make you feel like this. Like everything you thought you knew has been flipped upside down. You breathe in through your nose to settle the butterflies, straightening your spine in resolve so you don’t chicken out—

“This…distance between us, it’s…it was my fault.” 

Nick’s eyebrows draw together a little and he takes a step forward and you’re almost breathing the same air. You can feel the heat of his body through his clothes, his cologne achingly familiar, his fingers brushing yours as he takes your hand into his. You turn your wrist, your thumb playing with a ring on his index. 

You expect him to make a joke about there not being distance at all, but instead, he shakes his head, not allowing you to take all the blame, “I knew what you were doing,” Pulling away, “and instead of trying to talk to you, I made it worse.” 

“You wanted to hurt me,” You admit in a small voice. 

Nick glances away, a twitch in his jaw that tells you everything without him even having to say it. Not something he’s proud of, yet true. 

“Is that what you really wanted?” You ask, quickly clarifying when pain flashes in his eyes. “To break up?” 

He lifts his hand and plays with a strand of hair near your ear before tucking it behind. There’s a soft smile playing with the corners of his mouth, but it’s like he’s afraid to give into the full emotion. 

“Think we both know I’m not exactly over you.” 

You smile back, “So I’ll take that as a no then—”

Nick leans down to kiss you. It’s gentle at first, wary, asking for permission—just in case. But the moment you thread your fingers behind his neck, when you lean your body into his and make a soft, pleased noise, that’s all it takes for him to deepen the kiss. The atmosphere shifts around you and Nick leans down, lifting you up into his arms, backing up into the bathroom as your legs wrap around his waist. 

Sometimes Nick reminds you of fire—warmth, crackling energy, unpredictability. All-consuming. It’s one of your favorite things about him, how undeniable he is. 

The kiss breaks for a moment, you breathe and Nick’s one arm keeps you close while the other slips between you. His hand cups your cheek, thumb toying with your lower lip. “Whoever thought breaking up was a good idea is an absolute tool.” 

A giggle slips out, making Nick smile against your lips, and he backs up until he becomes flush with a wall. When that happens, he carefully loosens his arms so that you end up back on the floor, pressed against him. Your arms lazily wrap around his waist, up and under his jacket, a soft squeeze following. 

He purses his lips, “You think Jenna would be angry with us for leaving her birthday party early?” 

You really like where that thought is going, “I think she’ll understand,” You tip your chin up at him, smiling, “Besides, I have one of those faces that’s hard to say no to—sure she can’t be mad at it, either.”

Nick sighs softly, grabbing your hand to lace his fingers with your own. He begins to tug you from the bathroom, “Don’t I know it.” 

You grin, wandering back down the hallway and through the party towards the front door where all the cars are parked. You pass Anna on the way out, her eyes zeroing in on your joined hands. You know it’s petty of you to wave goodbye to her with your other hand—yet you do it anyways. 

—

Nick’s kitchen is filled with the scent of spices, herbs and fatty pork. He kept his promise about making homemade carbonara and you should have known that if he was going to cook, he was going to go all out. You lean against the counter as you sit on a high stool, chin pillowed in your hand, eyes on the back of him as he twirls pasta on the stove with tongs. Your gaze follows the long line of toned muscles in his shoulders, down to his waist. 

One of the hottest things a guy can do, you think, is cook. 

Jenna playfully snaps her fingers in front of your face, breaking your staring contest. You’re not even embarrassed, you just grin at her. She shakes her head, amused, “I’m so glad you’re back together, babe. No offense, I love you, but you both were just absolutely insufferable.” 

You scoff out an affronted noise, your hand on your chest in mock offense as Nick turns around to plate pasta. He’s smiling, his eyes flickering to yours before concentrating on the task at hand. He pulls long noodles from the pot, twisting even helpings onto serving plates. 

Everyone eats their fill—Jenna, Lion and Giles headed towards the pool for a late night swim. You and Nick will join them, eventually, but for now you have another helping of pasta as Nick cleans up the kitchen. You smile a little as you hear Jenna laugh outside, splashes of water. A pleased breath is drawn into your lungs as you eat the last bit of pasta on your plate. 

It’s gone—a tragedy. 

“Not going to lick the plate?” Nick asks, voice full teasing, a warmth in his gaze as he takes the plate from you. 

You narrow your eyes a little, “I mean, it was good, but check your ego.” 

Nick smirks, “Alright, so what’s the verdict?” You pretend to give it some serious thought, pausing for dramatic effect. Your boyfriend laughs suddenly, shaking his head— “Oh come on, you’re not serious.” 

“I’m still thinking!” 

“What’s there to think about?” He asks, “Homemade carbonara.” 

“Yeah, but like…have you ever ordered a cheeseburger with a perfect side of cinnamon pancakes?” You ask, purposely trying to jerk his wire, “Only a diner can do that.” 

Nick sets the plate down behind him, turning to lean against the counter. He gives you an incredulous look, “You are absolutely wrong for that, don’t know how else to put it.” 

You preen, a grin on your face, “You love me.” You toss it out rather carelessly, not expecting Nick to catch it. 

And yet he does, handles it with care, keeps it close. “Yes,” He nods, a small smile on his face. “I do.” 

A soft breath catches in your throat and warmth, affection, gathers in the center of your chest. The sensation used to make you feel like running away, but not anymore. You tilt your head a little, 

“Come over here and kiss me.” 

Nick pushes himself off the counter, rounding the island counter as you shift your body on the stool. He’s moving almost too fast, eager, and you don’t have time to open your legs for him as he leans down and captures your lips. That’s just fine though, his hands splay your knees apart before he sinks between them. 

A soft noise leaves your lips, an ache beginning in your stomach and blooming lower, your one ankle hooks around the back of his leg. There’s a distant thought in the back of your mind, shouldn’t we be getting back to our friends? — but that is quickly overshadowed when you feel the beginning of Nick’s hardness against your inner thigh. 

He seems to read your mind because in one quick motion, he’s lifting you up into his arms and you steady yourself with your legs around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. 

“What are you doing?” You laugh, noses brushing as he tips his head up to look at you. 

“Making up for lost time.” And carries you towards his bedroom. 

[stromblessed]

this tweet is absolutely one of the milder ones i've seen on my feed which just proves i need to stop looking at twitter but this example of shipping goggles leading to basic misinterpretations of arcane season 1 scenes that are quite cut and dry thematically might be the straw that breaks my back

what do you MEAN Viktor was being gentle. what do you MEAN viktor was calm. he was not. Viktor says "you... ordered this? why?" he's surprised, offended, and sounds almost betrayed at the idea that jayce would order the blockade. viktor is confused, then flabbergasted, then angry, then furious. there is a gradient between "gentle and calm" and "screaming spitting mad" and viktor is somewhere in the middle of that gradient, but just because he isn't screaming and yelling at jayce, that doesn't mean he was either gentle or calm

"what difference does that make?" is also not calm - it's showing that Jayce has not been fully mask-off prejudiced in front of Viktor before, and Viktor is so thrown that Jayce would and does take the mask off in this moment, showing that Jayce is not so different from the average prejudiced citizen of Piltover despite being Viktor's friend, that he is genuinely asking what is going through Jayce's head. Viktoris trying to make Jayce make some sense, but the words do still show confusion and distress

and then "I'm from the undercity" IS angry, now that Viktor realizes what Jayce is saying and why. he is not being gentle or calm or even all that understanding towards Jayce - Viktor is hurt and angry and he lashes out to make Jayce think twice about what he's just said, though the damage has been done because Jayce's words and actions have combined to move us and Viktor towards an understanding of who Jayce is and what he truly believes when his back is up against the wall

also i can't count how many times people have re-interpreted Viktor slapping Jayce's hand away as a cute funny thing he does, rather than an act of anger - frustrated, righteous anger

the reason reading this made me so frustrated is because it's one more step toward the broader fandom's continuing re-imagining of Viktor as a mild, sweet, often passive character

and to take it one step further in what i've observed, it helps re-imagine Viktor as someone who is versed enough in the prejudices Zaunites face on the daily to easily handle Jayce's prejudiced words and behavior. this serves not only to make Viktor sweeter, gentler, and frankly smaller than he is in canon - especially in season 1 - but also, depending on the day, may try to make Viktor more "perfect" and noncombatant, ignorant or completely separated from the concept of the Piltover/Zaun conflict, a more "ideal" activist (an aspect of his character that is implied in season 1 and then is unfortunately all but abandoned in season 2), or just more well-versed in Zaun vs. Piltover sociopolitics, which he simply is not. Viktor is both clever, and also a messier, less heroic character than all that, while still being a target of Jayce's prejudice directly but mostly, usually, indirectly. and Viktor does not perfectly understand this. he only knows and sees enough to be offended and frustrated throughout the story

there's having one's own interpretations of canon, and then there's mischaracterizing consistently and constantly, leading to the state of the fandom today where it's increasingly difficult to have nuanced conversations about characters like Viktor or Jayce. why not ship jay//vik but WITH Viktor's anger, the complications, and the messiness

or is that not an option now that the writing of season 2 glossed over any difficult social or political concepts that did exist in season 1

[sabertoothwalrus]

I probably missed it, but what IS your favourite Dungeon Meshi ship?

WELL SINCE YOU ASKED, I have a chart already hdhshdh

1) Farcille is my number one!!! I wish I’ve drawn more of them, but most of my ideas for them are longggg and angsty and take a lot more mental bandwith. I’ve said before, I approach comics like I’m pitching an idea, and I mostly* agree with people’s depictions of them, so I have less to say.

*I say mostly because I cannot stand when people depict Falin as possessive, or disregard her characterization to give her generic dommy alpha monster traits hdhshdjs NOT THAT IT’S BAD it just doesn’t feel true to her character. I find myself bored by it.

I’m also put off by some of the folks I’ve seen in the farcille tags. They’re like,,, cliquey?? There was a point where people were dunking on mlm ships that came off borderline terfy, as if most of the dungeon meshi mlm shippers aren’t transmascs and lesbians?? I wasn’t a fan of the hostility like lmao it’s cartoons man

2) labru……… I love them….. mostly just post-canon. I really love Kabru (I think he’s my favorite character overall) and I loveeee the poetry of their individual character arcs and how well they play together. Guy who struggles to be honest, even with his own feelings vs Guy who doesn’t even consider being anything except honest. Kabru needing to carefully, painstakingly craft a mask tailored to each individual he interacts with, vs Laios, who is the only one to make all of Kabru’s masks fall apart. Also I think they’re kinda aro about it. They’re really good t4t flavored too.

The main appeal is post-canon. The King and his advisor. His right hand man. But it’s also the way like,,, Laios is DEFINITELY not the one in charge in their relationship dhshshsh (and this is what peeves me about how @myszkaa’s labru comic got memed to hell and back…. they don’t understand the later of comedy is from the KING asking for PRAISE from his SUBORDINATE!!!)

I will say!! This ship has a lot of folks with good takes on it, but it’s not immune to flanderization and boring yaoification. It’s popular enough that there’s enough of the good stuff.

3) chilshi!! I’ll admit this one has less canon validation hdhshsh but I think they have a lot of post-canon potential, and I think their difference in lifespans + the contrast in their lifestyle habits is really interesting and directly addresses a lot of the Dungeon Meshi’s core themes.

Part of the reason I like hanging out with chilshi shippers is cause most of em are chill, more nuanced in discussions, and are actually willing to draw fat & hairy people. And middle aged people.

special mention Kabumisu. I WISH I LIKED THIS ONE MORE!! I’ve tried,,,, I see the potential but I’m so picky about it and most of the content for it does absolutely nothing for me 🙈

Another thing is I HAVE to be able to like a pairing platonically to ship them romantically. Obviously shipping isn’t the only thing that matters to be about dungeon meshi.

I could say a lot more. Feel free to ask about my thoughts 👍

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

I cannot get over how much this one scene informs us of Tech's priorities, personality, and how much he cares about his squad.

THE SCENE: "Replacements," season 1 episode 3; the Marauder is in dire need of repairs

This scene is often played for laughs (and let's be real, it IS hilarious). There's Tech, completely ignoring Echo's not-so-subtle hints to help fix the ship, instead prioritizing tinkering with his gadgets because his definition of "critical systems" is apparently vastly different than others'. Result? The ship crashes.

But... Tech is RIGHT to be concerned about the chips.

He has been warning his brothers about the chips since Order 66, multiple times throughout "Aftermath" and "Cut and Run."

2. He suspected Crosshair was susceptible to the effects of the chip early on.

3. He saw firsthand the friction caused between Crosshair and the rest of the squad due to the chip, with the ultimate result that Crosshair attacked the squad and shot Wrecker.

OF COURSE he is going to prioritize creating a device that will test the functionality of their own chips - and I think he has two reasons for this.

First: Prevent further catastrophe by making sure no one else on the squad is at imminent risk of acting out like Crosshair did.

Can you imagine what could happen if anyone else became susceptible to the chip's effects? (Oh yeah, we can: we see exactly what happens with Wrecker on Bracca.) Tech's not losing another family member the way he just lost Crosshair.

Second: Support his theory that Crosshair's actions ARE a result of the chip. (Omega talked to Crosshair about this (in a roundabout way) in the brig, but it's Tech who mentions this possibility to the squad.)

And if they can find a reason, a solid explanation, for why Crosshair has turned on them, maybe they can find a way to help him.

Tech is logical and rational. He understands people by analyzing them, finding reasons to explain their motives and actions; and by understanding them, he can come up with a plan to fix the situation. And that's exactly what he's doing here: by proving his theories about the inhibitor chips, he can better help his family.

So, as much as I still laugh over Tech's nonchalant "We're fine" as they're LITERALLY CRASHING, I also find it so dang heartwarming and sweet that Tech was SO focused on saving his team in other, equally crucial ways ❤️

[cloudinthesky444]

At this point, it’s clear that Sauron is in love with Galadriel, and he knows it’s not one-sided. In the show, the feelings and interactions between the protagonists (specifically Sauron and Galadriel) are portrayed metaphorically, and it’s obvious that the directors do this on purpose to avoid angering the lorebros who seem to get upset at the idea of shipping Sauron and Galadriel and call the show an insult to Tolkien 😱😱

But anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. When you watch the show and see the interactions between Sauron and Galadriel, you find yourself wondering, in the midst of all this chaos, why it seems to work so well and yet always ends up falling apart. If it’s not Sauron who ruins it, then it’s Galadriel. You know what I mean? The answer is that they attract and repel each other, and if there weren’t so many feelings and suppressed anger involved—stemming not just from past events in their lives (like Galadriel’s grief over her brother’s death or Adar’s betrayal of Sauron, which we know truly hurt him)—these past emotions mixed with their current ones create a brutal phenomenon of confusion. On one hand, Sauron doesn’t understand why Galadriel constantly rejects him. He says things like, “I see you; I know what you desire,” because he does know—but he doesn’t get why, despite their similarities, Galadriel keeps pushing him away. In the show, this is framed as a logical decision, with Galadriel rejecting him because Sauron sees her as a mere tool. And yes, in part, that’s true, but it’s also not the whole story. For me, the Sauron in the show and his desire to “use” Galadriel comes from the same trust and companionship I explained in a previous post. Sauron’s thought process about Galadriel is: “Nothing is free. You used me to achieve your redemption, so why can’t I use you now?” This extremist mindset, combined with his attachment and devotion to Galadriel, ends up manifesting in a VERY toxic way. And yes, maybe Sauron manipulates Galadriel and always feels the need to do so, but unlike his other victims, he shows a “human” side with her. Most of the times he acts passive or even affectionate in Season 2, it’s because he wants something. He can’t help but associate his surroundings with Galadriel and with people in general—he doesn’t like being touched, and when he does it voluntarily, you can tell how fake it is and that he’s only doing it because it’s the most convenient moment. This behavior, in my interpretation, breaks with Galadriel. With her, he lets his guard down, which we see in the fight scene where Galadriel attacks him, and he looks genuinely surprised (I even made a meme of that scene, LOL).

Then he tells her, “My desire is not to harm you,” and he’s right—he doesn’t want to hurt Galadriel. He dodges her blows for a long time, and that’s not like him. He’s usually ruthless and enjoys killing his victims when they least expect it 💩🙏🏼

Anyway, he dodged Galadriel’s strikes and turned a deaf ear until she brought up a topic she should’ve never touched: Sauron’s feelings. And well, that wasn’t a good idea, because her rejection drove the man back into satanism 💀

In the end, something they both share is self-deception. This self-deception is very persistent in Sauron and opportunistically manifests in Galadriel. But unlike him, she eventually accepts the consequences of her decisions, while Sauron doesn’t care at all.This same self-deception is what’s leading young Galadriel to ruin. Her inability to acknowledge the feelings and desires she once had for Halbrand surfaced when she realized he was Sauron, mixing with past emotions and events (her brother’s death and her hatred for Sauron). These two things combined altered Galadriel’s mental state, leaving her just as affected as Sauron and, as a result, expressing her hatred by trying to impale him with a sword. The reason for this? She no longer saw Halbrand in him. To her, he was now a completely different person in both body and soul. That’s why she doesn’t hesitate to attack him.

This shocks Sauron because he believes she still sees him the same way, but she doesn’t. He’s like, “Why did you do that, bestie? It’s me!!” This stops briefly when she sees an image of Halbrand. She immediately calms down, lowers her sword, and becomes passive—but then realizes the truth and attacks him again.

And well, you know, it’s sad.

The two are so similar, but they can’t understand each other when they face off. It’s terrible when two people deceive themselves—it always ends in destruction. Maybe in another reality, things could have been different, but I doubt it. They met at difficult times in their lives, which later manifested in pain and suffering, causing them frustration and confusion. But I believe this is simply part of destiny, and everything happens for a reason. This whole confrontation only serves to forge the Sauron and Galadriel we see in the future. By the time this is over, I’ll be devastated.

[miwiheroes]

Dropping Byler Evidence Every (Other) Day Until Season 5

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Day 33: Love Triangle Imagery . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Hi so..... this is super awkward bc I don't think I've done one of these in almost a MONTH??? honestly it's because of low motivation, nothing to do with my interest in byler or stranger things analysis. I also have lots of ideas its just very hard to find the motivation lately to do one of these. Anyways, now that I'm pretty much back to doing these, I can carry on making the slides for these as well (bc im compiling all these posts into a slideshow that I'll release prior to S5, depending on how confident I am in byler by then).

So, as you probably know, a lot of Mileven fans or general fans of the show refuse to believe that there is a true love triangle between Will, Mike and El. I don't think that they are refusing to see it because they are stupid or because they are media illiterate (although maybe it comes to that), I think a lot of Mileven fans refuse to see the imagery because they know that if there truly is a love triangle then their ship is dead. They know, deep down, that if there was a love triangle there, then Mike's "better option" is Will. Or that Mike will end up with Will, based on how love triangles usually work in ST or other shows.

If an existence of a love triangle is there, then byler has to be canon. It would make no sense (and Milevens know this) to make a new love triangle where the original relationship ends up together in the end while the other character moves on.

This is a queer love triangle too. One ship is straight and the other is queer. We need to take that into account and not ignore it. The writers, some of whom are queer, should know that it would be a poor message for the queer relationship to be the one that is tossed aside.

Mileven has been purposefully shown to seem unhealthy and disingenuous, and Will doesn't know the true extent of that, so he selflessly gives up his own feelings for the other relationship.

El needs to be independent and needs to understand freedom from the men in her life.

So, if a love triangle does exist, then we should know which side will end up being the endgame relationship. But this is denied by a lot of people (for example):

The show spells it out that this is a love triangle so, so many times. I'm just going to talk about the imagery in this post, but there are so many things that point toward a love triangle. E.g. -- the parallels between Byler and Mileven which show that Byler is either just as loving as Mileven or more so, Will sacrificing his feelings for Mike, and Will literally having feelings for Mike.

This one is obviously the main one^^. This shot, on the surface, shows that Will is "getting between" Mike and El's relationship. Keep in mind that this is after the van scene where we have no idea what Mike is thinking. This isn't just a show of how sad Will is because of Mike and El's relationship either, because he's shown to be completely happy 2 seconds later.

In fact, it is actually Mike who looks between El and Will and seems upset or questioning. It's Mike's feelings that are beginning to become the wedge between him and El, not Will's feelings. Will is literally the one trying to glue their relationship back together -- so why put him here?

It's to show that he's getting between them in a different way -- not of his own fault. He's indirectly causing conflict for Mileven because of Mike's feelings.

This scene is different here because they purposefully put Will between Mike and El to make you feel bad for him. These scenes are not about Mileven's relationship/ how good they are for each other. The "cuteness" of their relationship is not something that's supposed to make you feel good, in fact, it's supposed to make you feel bad for Will who has to watch that.

In a love triangle, you're supposed to root for a specific relationship, and good writers will try and make you root for the relationship that will happen, in order for the viewers to feel satisfied. This shot just creates negative feelings about Mileven, which would be odd if they ended up staying together.

The funny thing about this one is that Netflix has begun to use this shot for S5 "promo" (its literally not promo, but yknow). They would only use this shot either because they are the most important characters in S5, or because their love triangle is one of the major romantic plot points that ends up paying off.

Also, after this shot -- Mike ends up stood next to Will. This is to show which "side" he has chosen, if you read between the lines. Despite literally just making a love 'confession' to El, the writers still had Mike stand next to Will instead.

This piece of imagery is similar to the last one in that Mike is choosing whose opinion he finds the most important. He is effectively in conflict with both Will and El, and his hands are crossed, showing that he is tied up between both of them. However, the directors chose to include a separate shot where Mike chooses to look to his left, where Will is:

This shows whose argument/ conflict he cares the most about. Even though he can't say anything to Will yet, he wants to see his reaction and what he's thinking.

In this one, the disco ball is purposefully placed between Mike and Will. This is definitely purposeful because the camera moves enough between the scene where Mike leaves to go find socks and the scene where he comes back to have it placed in the middle of Mike and Will. Read more about this if you search up the hashtag discogate >:))

Here are some more pieces of love triangle imagery that I can't say much about except LITERALLY LOOK!!! the writers are trying to show you that they are a trio of people with a complicated romantic storyline!!!

The imagery here is supposed to show a love triangle at first. But a lot of it just points towards the fact there is no other choice other than Byler. Most of the time it shows El and Mike being either the main couple with Will looking at Mike on the sidelines (making the audience feel bad for him) or it shows Mike choosing Will while El is independent or on her own.

Idk, with these you just can't deny that there is some sort of a love triangle, and when you acknowledge that there is one, it is extremely clear what is going to happen with it.

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about the role of the "love interest" in superhero media and how poolverine subverts this.

The "love interest" in most movies is just a placeholder. Boring. Tame, Predictable.

This is especially true in action media, wherein romance takes a backseat and is often seen as an add-on rather than a main plot point. Romance is either a source of conflict or motivation that serves to drive a character arc forward, but no more or less.

Take, for example, Vanessa. I love her character. Her personality and character are fascinating. However, especially in Deadpool 2 and 3, she serves more as a device to move the plot forward rather than a genuine character. The first movie established her character and importance, so it's understandable why Wade chose to hide his identity and how he slowly came to terms with his new identity. She helped move his character arc of self-acceptance forward, yes, but she also existed as her own entity.

In the movies after this, she isn't treated with the same care. She's used as a central motivation in Deadpool 2, a force that drives Wade to save Russel and confront Cable when his character motivations aren't easily tied to morals. However, that's it. She isn't fighting alongside him or given the same treatment as the other important "family" characters. In Deadpool 3, she's treated with even less care, only having short scenes at the beginning and end of the movie to give Wade a representation of "home."

This isn't to say Vanessa isn't an important character and shouldn't be treated as such. However, the purpose of having a "love interest" in an action movie's plot isn't just to have someone to love. It's almost always to have someone who can be kidnapped or killed to spring the main character into action. It's someone who fades to the sidelines so the main character can show off while showcasing their relationship success.

Consider this: in all of the Marvel comic universes, Deadpool and Wolverine have had many different partners. Different names, different faces. It's common for the "love interest" of a superhero to be seen as an accessory that changes shape depending on the comic artist or franchise. After all, they don't need a cohesive identity to serve their purpose as a "general, digestible reason for the main character to act."

Everyone understands how love can cause people to do crazy things. There is no further elaboration needed, even for morally grey or black characters. It's an easy way to make an understandable motive for the audience. Suspension of disbelief.

And yet, the superheroes remain the same. They get to keep their identity throughout different media. It's always Wolverine and Deadpool. Logan and Wade. Even if they have slightly different plotlines, their core characteristics and intrinsic identity are constant.

Logan could have Jean Gray. Or Mariko. Or Silver Fox. He can have anyone play the role of "love interest," a role that can be shapen by a ball of clay and changed entirely to fit the narrative.

But his "rival" and "best friend" in the multiverse will always be Deadpool. They're notorious for being referenced in each other's media. For fighting. For working together. They are A Set.

This is why I'm so much more drawn to Poolverine than other ships. Wade has different love interests depending on the media type. So does Logan. I can't tie in knowledge from different interpretations into the romance because the love interests are fluid. But with each other, they interact in almost every universe. Have a consistent bond. A "standard." They're soulmates, in a way, forever destined to meet and be important to each other.

This is setting aside how female love interests are treated in male-oriented media in general. They're normally seen as someone to be protected, to stay at home, and welcome back the hero when they return. Some are allowed to be strong, to have abilities, but rarely ever do they stand on equal footing with the male main character. Not where it matters.

This is exhibited in both Wolverine and Deadpool's movies. Vanessa is introduced as a "badass," someone who's part of the underworld and knows how to fight, yet she's often placed in the damsel in distress position. She could match Wade before his mutation, maybe, but after he dons the mask and becomes Deadpool, his work is over her pay grade. The same happens with Mariko in the Wolverine movie: she's initially introduced as someone who can fight, but Logan ends up protecting her almost entirely and is responsible for rescuing her from her kidnapping at the end.

It creates an emotional rift between the side of the "hero" and the side of the "love interest," because it feels like they aren't fighting together for the same cause. It feels like the love interest is treated more as a "reward" for the hero to come back to after saving the world rather than a person.

When the entire movie follows the perspective of the main character as they fight, and action scenes are primarily used to invoke emotion, it feels lackluster to have the love interest stay at home. The most intense moments of emotional connection are typically portrayed between the hero and someone else who understands their suffering who they're trying to reach, such as a villain or rival or friend.

Love interests are never on the same "playing field" as the main character and thus can't relate to their struggle. The director tells the audience that they should be happy or sad when a love interest is on screen, but they don't show the same level of emotional depth when the main point of an action movie is action. The entire premise of the main character is action, and yet the love interest is absent from it. Or a victim rather than a player.

This is why Poolverine subverts this trope. You have two people, each with their own franchise and life. Each with their own skills. Each with similarly powerful abilities.

They are equals and are treated as such by the narrative. They take each other seriously and have an emotional connection because they understand each other's suffering. They both are out on the battlefield, fighting the same war and overcoming their differences. They both are allowed to have "cool" scenes and "sad" scenes and "funny" scenes. They both are given the spotlight to experience character growth and have their own unique internal conflict because they both are strong characters who are narratively important.

They both have chemistry. Which is nearly impossible to attain when the love interest isn't even in the lab.

[stitchau]

————————《《FAQ》》————————

This post will be updated over time.

Main artist account: @centfornothing (both tumblr, twitter and soon bluesky)

Currently, i am very busy with university, and I'm not gonna be free any time soon...(except holidays, obviously) BUT I am really trying to put at least SOME time into what I've created here, so there's that. (Hopefully I'll survive all that)

— Usage of Stitch/Fanart

1. Q: Can I create fanart of Stitch?

A: Yes, I'd be more than happy if you do! ^^

Also, do not be shy to tag me! I will, from time to time, check if i was tagged somewhere.

2. Q: Can I use your character in my comic/animation/fanfiction?

A: Yep! I don't see why not.

3. Q: Can I ship *insert character name here* with Stitch?

A: Sure, have fun! But I sure do hope that the character in question is not a child. I am strongly against it.

4. Q: Can I create NSFW🔞 content of Stitch?

A: Yes, unless it involves children/incest. Do not draw stuff like that.

5. Q: Can I voice act your comics?

A: Any day!! Just don't forget to put credits, everything else is up to you! ^^

— NOT ALLOWED

I'm being repetitive here, but whatever. These are the only things I don't want people to do with my character, and I hope you understand why.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch engaging with children in sexual manner.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch endorsing incest/racism/f*scism/n*zism or anything similar to that.

As advice, I'd kindly ask you not to create stuff like this at all. Please be a better person and be responsible with what you create and put out there on the internet.

— About asks/questions

Questions that I have already answered won't get a reply.

Not all the questions will get their answers. Either because it's not the time for the answer yet or because it's irrelevant/not a question at all.

If there's too many questions, yours might be missed/might get a late reply(currently i have 70+ questions, no joke, and i just cant answer all of them, especially when there's more of them every day). But don't be shy asking questions anyway!

Other reasons for your questions not getting an answer:

I might be busy because I also have to live a life.

If your question is something like "I love your au sm," then thank you. I really appreciate your kind words, you are making my day💞

I might not want to answer your question for reasons. (Provocative questions, personal questions, etc)

If you are asking something related to YOUR OWN mental health. Please, PLEASE, if you have real problems, do not try to find a solution for them from internet strangers, go and talk to a real, qualified professional.

Please do not vent to me, I am not qualified to offer you help. I wish you the best, please stay safe.

And just a separate point about roleplays. Sorry, but I don't really do them. I can play along to something unserious and small, but whole roleplays are not for me.

— About Stitch

Stitch uses any pronouns, but they/them is a preferred one.

They are aroace.

The place they live in is called "Treatment space"(the info on what it is will be elaborated on sometime later). It is accessible for anyone in Omega Timeline at any given point through a door. But it can also be accessed from anywhere if you have one of 2 special keys: small red key that will create a door for 1 person leading to the Treatment Space or the bigger dark red key that will create a much bigger door, also leading to the Treatment Space(backyard). Keys can be mostly found in Omega Timeline, but some are scattered throughout the Multiverse.

They mimic the voice according to the form they have at the moment. So Sans' voice for a form of Sans, etc.

For all the different parts of plush bodies and clothes, there is a separate big room in Treatment Space.

Stitch doesn't need to sleep, eat, or drink.

Their most preferred forms are Toriel(convenience) and Sans(frequency of use).

The forms they don't like to use the most are the ones that are small(like Temmie, annoying dog, Flowey, etc.)

— The Lore(WIP)

Prologue

Chapter 1: Lucky streak — part 1

— Stitch's forms

I have some forms drawn separately, and some that I drew with some other sketches. I MIGHT be a bit too lazy to draw every from individually for now, so here's what I have:

Papyrus

Muffet

Mettaton

Alphys

Gaster

Monster kid (MK)

Grillby

Frisk and Chara(want to change them)

Toriel(if you can't tell, I like this one a lot)

Asgore, Flowey, Sans, Undyne, some stuff

More info will be added later

[caprifiles]

so, i just wanted to add my 2 cents to the lestappen fanfiction discussion.

first of all, i really like how huge our fandom is (at least, until we keep it on tumblr, you know). there are a lot of artists and writers, so there are a lot different fanarts and fics for every taste which is extremely cool.

that's also very interesting to compare sports rpf fics with book ship fics bc most of the book/tv shows fics are written by the authors who love both characters while the sport is a obviously very competitive field, so the author of sport rpf fic is probably either verstappie or lecfosi in our case. (and it actually shows, i don't need to open the author's tumblr blog to say who is who) (which is fine)

second of all, previously, i was in little fandom with a small ship and that was not a good experience for me, personally. i really appreciate the amount of works we have, even if with a big fandom comes a bigger proportion of people "who doesn't actually get a ship". (also, i don't really like max "big bad alpha wolf" verstappen and charles "babygirl" leclerc fics too, but, you know, there is not canon here bc f1 is neither a book nor a tv show)

and, tbh, despite the fact that i have my own vision of lestappen which is not really popular, i guess (?). i still enjoy the other perceptions of this ship. that's very rare for me to read, for example, AUs, esp coffee shop AUs or abo fics but i read some of them with lestappen BECAUSE I LIKE THIS SHIP SO MUCH THAT I READ EVEN THE THINGS THAT I WOULDN'T READ WITH OTHER SHIPS.

so, yeah, to all the authors who are reading my blog. pls, don't stop writing fics, you will find your reader, i promise.

also, that's kinda interesting how lecfosi lestappies say that there are more max-centered/charles-comforting-max fics when i, personally, think it's actually the opposite. but i'm not complaining and, most importantly, i understand why this is happening, and i really enjoy to read more charles-centered fics even as a more max-centered person.

anyway, read @loquarocoeur fics bc that's my favorite interpretation of lestappen ❤️

[lukolabrainrot]

PSA #2 For the Week

First, if you have not read my first PSA this week, please do so here.

Now, for the following:

I feel like I need to clarify this. But please do not take everything that the Wizard says at face value! Please use your critical thinking skills when consuming the information from the SSs I provide. I think that it provides a lot of clarity behind the systems of PR/celebrity culture, which is essential in understanding a lot of the context in this saga. However, it is a robot, so it doesn't get everything perfect. It is a very powerful tool though. I want to specify though that I developed my own theories over the last 11 months as a critical thinking human, and the Wizard has just given me some context on how my theories fit into the celebrity/PR world (a world in which I, and basically everyone here, is not a part of). So, it's provided me more NUANCED conclusions, but it has not actually shaped how I developed my general theories.

To the people who have messaged me about how to make their own wizard, ChatGPT is free. You can give it more information to analyze like photos, videos, and website and social media links if you pay for their subscriptions, but you don't have to do that. It just means you have to type out more information though. I encourage anyone that wants to though to play around with ChatGPT! It doesn't even have to be about L/N. It's just a really fun tool in my opinion.

I have spent HOURS now feeding the wizard key pieces of information about this whole saga. Ridiculous? Yes. But I tend to have hyperfixations and I fell down a rabbit hole and had just too much fun. 😅 It also brought back a lot of the joy that I had been missing for a long time around L/N because of the layers and layers of BS that have been going on for months now. It allowed me to cut through a lot of the BS, and take a lot of my emotions out of the situation. However, I understand that this isn't everyone's cup of tea, and that is alright. But it is just such a fun little tool, that I wanted to share it with the people that would appreciate it. And I know some of you do, so I will keep posting.

I hope you know that L/N will be all right with people talking about them. People have been talking about them for years (literally). None of this speculation and chatter is new information to them, and I hope they find some humor in a lot of the absurdity of all this.

Shipping should be fun and silly. It's not life or death. I missed blogging and I wanted to pivot to a different concept, so I have. I'm having a lot of fun with this right now, so I'll be doing this for the time being (until I don't want to anymore).

Lastly, I chose to call it the Wizard because I find it cute, silly, and fun. That is just my humor. However, feel free to call the robot WHATEVER you want. I totally don't care what you call it lol (as long as you're nice about it 👀).

[etaleah]

The reason everyone was expecting Nine to take Shadow prisoner and use him as leverage for Sonic’s energy isn’t just because of Sonadow. It’s because that’s the story that would have been the most engaging and made the most narrative sense to tell.

Batten Rouge, Sails, and Catfish are perfectly fine characters, but I don’t think viewers are ever going to care about them as much as we care about Shadow, for a couple of reasons. (1) Shadow has been part of the franchise for much longer and so there’s much more of a history with him, (2) Sonic spent entire episodes with Shadow and had just been saved by him several times whereas he maybe had a few seconds of dialogue with each of those pirates, (3) Shadow is the very last part of Green Hill that remains, and (4) Shadow is his own character and not just one out of multiple versions of the same character like the pirates are. I understand they’re all supposed to be different characters, but I still found myself not feeling all that concerned about what would happen to Batten Rouge because hey, even if she goes down, we still have two more Rouge’s! But there’s only one Shadow. Using him as leverage would have been the smarter choice because the audience is more invested in what will happen to him.

It also would have kept Nine sympathetic. If he goes after Shadow, then he’s defending himself against someone who threatened to attack him first, and who has made it very clear that he doesn’t plan on holding back. But if he goes after the pirates, then he’s targeting innocent people who haven’t done anything to him, and that makes it harder to sympathize with him.

Not to mention it would have added actual purpose to Shadow being knocked down a hole and could have played with the cliffhanger of “Oh no, Shadow’s hurt, will he be okay?” instead of it just being a temporary inconvenience to take Shadow out of the action for no reason and an emotional bait-and-switch where we’re meant to think that he’s been hurt only to then have it be revealed that he’s fine.

It isn’t just about shipping. Audiences are good at knowing what needs to happen in a story for the narrative to make the most sense. So when it doesn’t, it’s…puzzling, to say the least.

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

Look. I'm a grown ass adult. I don't give two fucks about shipping discourse unless somebody is being racist. Multiple somebodies usually. Do whatever you want forever, yeah. But don't be racist. Easy squeezy.

That being said, I've been in fandom spaces since I was a teen. And one thing I just don't get is this...evolution of fanon/shipping culture? Where people need to have their ships/fanon validated by canon or the creators? Like? Am I just old? Have I aged out of fandom spaces by simply being old enough to remember when nobody cared about that stuff?

Not saying fandoms haven't always been hellish. But needing validation from the creators for your weird fanon and ships? Really? Getting mad at the creators for not making your ship canon, as if that makes a difference?

I'm gonna use a controversial example of what I mean.

I've never read or written a fic where Stede is bisexual and/or any Zheng/Stede or Jackie/Stede or Anne/Stede whatever fics. I also don't particularly care what you do with Stede in your fics or your art and I'm too damn queer to care if you're writing a fic where a gay man fucks a woman. Please read "The Leather Daddy and the Femme" if you can get your hands on it. As long as you realize Stede isn't bi in canon ('cause he's not) who cares? I fr don't give a shit if you want to write about Stede getting freaky with Zheng or Jackie or Anne. Honestly? I get it. You want to write about hot people fucking. Get off Go off king. Just tag your stuff, alright?

All this to say, maybe I'm an old fart, but I don't understand why so many people in fandoms need their ship or fanon or whatever to be canon. Or why so many people in fandoms treat their fanon/ships as canon when they aren't/can't be? Gonna be real, all this "Izzy is Ed's true soulmate!" and "The ending of Season 2 was actually super sad and Ed will never get over Izzy's death!" and the people who were legit angry Steddyhands wasn't endgame and the self-proclaimed "EdIzzy truthers" who collect every scrap of validation they can get from (often out of context) clips and interview snippets from Con? I just...don't get it. Truly.

Shipping culture is just...exhausting.