#i have like ideas this isn't even like 1/3 of the people i've thought of

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

It's the penultimate episode, I've got some words for P'Dome that he'll never get to hear but most importantly I'm here to congratulate Peach and Home on not breaking up this episode. So let's get to it!

1

We begin with Home being sad looking at their ad while thinking about his gramps trying to teach him the meaning of "home"

But while Pangpang puts it plainly into words

Home is apparently so dense that he still hasn't figured it out

We've been seeing quite clearly, and Home seems to be aware on a subconcious level at least, that Peach and the rest of the squad have become his home. But well, Home the man, clearly put all his character points into cuteness leaving none for intelligence so I guess we'll have to wait for the last (TT) episode for him to finally get it.

2

Peach has gotten to know Home very well. So of course he can tell that there's something up with his platonic? boyfriend. (on the first watch i thought this was him fishing for "Home is so sad that you're leaving"-validation)

He's also totally definitely not at all worried about Home. I'd say acting isn't Peach's strong suit but he did quite well with the fuckery they put on so I guess it's a case of the old can't-lie-when-it-comes-to-love.

Despite his utter non-worry he still delegates Home-care to Kan which kind of implies that he sees it as his job to take care of him. (and shows how much he is worried and cares about Home but that's not really news at this point)

3

Even Kan is teasing them about their relationship now.

4

Sure, their fight turned out to be somewhat staged to distract evil lawyer but the sentiments are nontheless quite real. The familiar territory of fighting allows them to finally speak out their feelings about what happened at the end of last episode. And, surprise, surprise, both are hurt by the idea of being left by the other, of ultimately not meaning that much to each other. (as I said, abandonment trauma rearing its ugly head) At this point, regardless of their relationship status maybe they should just get married so they'll finally feel some security in their importance to each other. (this is almost definitely not a good solution to this sort of problem irl, of course)

5

It's a good thing they've been perfecting their nonverbal communication over the course of the show. It comes in quite handy in situations like this.

6

Surrounded by the betrayal from his blood family, Home knows there's someone he can always trust.

Peach. And the rest of the gang. His real family. (+ the friends they made along the way)

7

This scene was honestly the cutest shit. The way he goes from his legs raised in happiness, to lowerd in disappointment, to swinging with giddieness. The way he's hiding under his duvet to secretly talk to his boyfriend on the phone. Ridiculously cute. This man is so in love. And he shows it like a stereotypical 12 y/o girl.

And Peach isn't any better with his arms on display and that fondness in his face.

8

Peach really doesn't want Home to go back to America.

But while he's not getting that reassurance for now (I can't bring myself to believe he'll actually leave. Not after everything, not when the reason for his exile has been resolved, not when he's finally found the meaning of "home" so his grandpa would have allowed him to come back, anyway. And how ironic btw, that he had to come home first and face the consequences of his actions, in order to find his meaning of "home"), at least he gets some surprisingly clear real-talk on Home's feelings.

9

Peach is smelling the bs on uncle and he's not looking to become a widower. He already watched Home die once, he's really not inclined to repeat that experience.

Unfortunately he let's Home convince him it'll be fine (and unfortunately Home has retained a lot of that naivete that he displayed when he first met Kan) so he's left behind to worry about Home's safety.

10

This plan from the uncle is absolutely evil. To not only kill his nephew but make people, possibly even Home himself, believe that Peach is the one who killed him? To destroy his nephew's most important person in the process, not only worldly by framing him for murder, but also spiritually by having someone (Home!) die from his cooking? I'm sure to Kid this was mostly a matter of hitting two flies with one stone but whether intentional or not this plan is clearly designed for maximum cruelty. And it's made even more cruel by the love and trust Home and Peach clearly have for each other, plain for everyone, even the evil uncle, to see. But he doesn't even grant Home the knowledge of being loved at the point of his death.

Stop trying to bury our gays you pos uncle!

11

As a palate cleanser, please enjoy this image of the whole happy family. Including the dads, their daughter + her wife, and ... Suradech!

Lesbian Corner

Kan has been spending so much time with Pangpang that she's internalising her speech patterns.

And THIS is her reaction when Peach calls her out on it. Someone's in luuurve!

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[awxcoffeexno]

the patient - part 1

toxic!loganhowlett x reader

like real people do

series masterlist | fic masterlist | part 2 >>

summary: logan's in love w jean, ur in love w logan, and he comes to your bed every night that he cannot spend in hers.

content: more angst, the awxcoffeexno special. terribly, terribly toxic relationship between reader and logan. they both need copious amounts of therapy. this one-shot takes place in the x-mansion where reader is a student of the professor and logan is... well, logan. reader also has powers, you'll learn of them as you go.

warnings: all mentions of jean are actually referring to the phoenix who is extremely mentally unstable, logan mandhandles the reader quite a bit but never hurts her, the relationship portrayed is horribly toxic.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: wowowow im so happy the world is FINALLY sharing in my obsession with logan, he's such a cutie patootie. this fic isn't my best but it's an idea I've had for soooo long that i just had to have a crack at it.

you can sense him coming 3 minutes before he's made the decision to seek you out.

you sit up straight at your desk, eyes flicking down to the research paper you've been working on with the professor. you decide to get the last paragraph in, fingers scrambling across the keyboard to finish your thoughts before logan makes you forget everything.

and then he's at your door, throwing it open without knocking.

"good." he grunts. "you're here."

stepping inside, he locks the door and turns to you. and fuck, you hate this. you hate when he's like this, you hate everything about this arrangement.

well, almost everything. how could you possibly hate the way he walks over to you and leans down, brows set in a deep frown, pulling you up by your jaw? how could you possibly hate the desperation, the need, in his eyes as he he flutters them shut, pressing his lips to yours? how could you possibly hate the smell of wood and tobacco and... logan... as he slips his hand off your jaw to painfully wrap around your throat?

but when you slip into his mind, quiet as a cat, making sure not to give your presence away, his thoughts are swirling mostly with one person. and it's decidedly not you.

"no," you gasp into his warm mouth. "no, logan."

he grunts in protest, moving his mouth from yours to your neck.

"logan, please..." you try again, pushing your hands between you both. you reach for his cheek but grabs your hand in a vice grip and yanks away from you. he will not let you touch his cheek, he will not let you use your powers on him.

"what?!" he snaps. "what do you want."

he hardly even notices his own actions as he uses the same hand to also ensnare your other wrist, squeezing tight to let you know not to even attempt wriggling free.

you swallow thickly and look into his glowering eyes. "you know i don't like it when you... when it isn't about me. when it's about... her. i can't stand it. it feels... wro–"

and his free hand is wrapped around your jaw. you've done it again. you read his mind without his permission after years of him telling you off about it, years of him telling you to "back the fuck off, bub."

but you can't help it. you do it all the time. he lets jean do it. why should you not be allowed? why are you always lesser to him than she will ever be?! especially when she hurts him so much he has to come to you to lick his wounds clean?

jean's... broken. you're perfectly fit. jean's hardly ever there to give him what he needs, you're always by his side, before he even knows he'll need you. it's just how your powers work, and you don't hear him complaining about using the future for his advantage. and yet all he does is think about her. even when he's here to fuck you.

"logan, how about you let me go and go back to carrot top?" you say, evening your voice out in that way you do when you know you can talk people into things with your hand on their cheek. but your hands are both trapped in his crushing grip and there's no way he's going to let you move them.

he's glaring at you. gauging you. and you slip into his thoughts again – yup, he's dreaming of ways to kill you. you snort. well, at least you're on his mind now.

"get the fuck out of my head." he growls and lets you go roughly, shoving you back. you stumble back but hold your ground. he would never actually push you hard enough to hurt.

that's the easiest part about loving logan. feeling safe even when it hurts.

you take a deep breath and restart, voice still even.

"logan?"

you watch his shoulders sag in defeat as he leans against the window sill and sighs.

"logan, i... i just..."

he looks back at you, eyes sluggish. tired. "you just what?"

"i don't like being your... stress ball." you sit down on the bed, massaging your temple because you cannot read his thoughts anymore. he's spending a significant amount of his energy blocking you out.

"don't hear you complainin' when i'm balls deep in you most nights."

you cringe at the crudeness and rub your face. he stands up a little straighter at your reaction, having realised over the years that all your anxious tics reside in your face. the way you rub it, the way you harshly massage your temples, the way you chew on your lip and pull the little baby hairs out of your hairline. and now you're all that is on his mind.

he carefully pads over and crouches down in front of you. eyes softer, way gentler. his hands slip around your wrists again and tighten but this time his grip is friendly, comforting. he's trying to ground you.

"me on your mind, sweetheart?" he says, voice heartbreakingly soft. you simply nod so he continues, "mmm... i hurt you today?"

a lot, you want to say. all you ever want is her. your jean. the jean you'd do anything for even when she's trying to drag the animal out of you and turn you into a beast, logan.

"a little." you settle.

he shifts both your wrists into his left hand and slips his right palm onto your cheek. "how can i make it better?"

you swallow thickly. you have to choose your words wisely. none of your powers would be useful right now, so you lean in and kiss him first.

"i'm scared." you sniffle. "scared of losing you to her completely. you love her, lo. so much you let her chop your mind up into little pieces and put it back together every single day."

his eyes fall in a rare moment of vulnerability so you don't let go of your momentum.

"she's hurting you so much," you whisper, aching to reach out for his cheek and take it all away. "i cannot keep fixing the wounds that she creates."

his eyes snap up to you at that. "well, if you don't want this–"

"no! that's not what i'm saying, james! fuck, i want you! i need you. but it's all i've become to you," you whine with a pathetic sob. "a way to fall asleep at night. a means to an end. a solace from all the pain."

"when you know that that's what this is... that you can take my pain away..." he looks at you, his dark eyes accusatory.

and fuck, what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? what kind of doctor turns a patient away? a patient so desperate for care?

so you close your eyes and let the ache wash over you. several minutes pass in silence and he starts to get up.

"you're right," you finally mumble.

when you open your eyes he's still looking at you.

"i'm sorry. i don't know why i did what i did. of course i want to help."

he's immediately scooping you up and lying you down. logan's easy like that. he never asks too many questions.

he kisses you, softer than he ever has before and starts working his way down your chin and neck and... how does it always end like this for you? with you giving in and him having his way with you. with you under him, tears in your eyes because you do not want him to stop but it hurts so badly to be his second. his second priority, his second thought, his second need.

will you ever be able to deny him?

"open your mouth, sugar." he coos, slipping two fingers past your chewed up lips to let you wet them.

your eyes roll back into your head as you suck on his digits, body reacting in tandem with his.

no, there is no way you would ever deny him anything.

"logan?" you whisper when his pulls the fingers out.

"hmm?"

"i love you."

"i know."

--

i have once again risen from dead. i hope you liked this xxxxxxxxxxx ily

love, d <3

--

part 2 >>

[atley01]

Tips for all of my alternative & Chronically ill/ disabled friends!

A big thing that's helped me feel more comfortable accommodating my disability is finding accessibility tools that reflect my personality / interests.

I should put a disclaimer that making disability "aesthetic" should not be the most important thing about your health! I do this where I can to help me accept my disability.

Here are some alt accessibility tools I've found / made & utilized for myself!

1. If you're prone to nausea:

Anti-nausea meds work, but I also find that peppermints work just as well! I always have mints on me. At home, I've stored them in this coffin container!

I do keep a few of these mints in my bag, as well as ginger hard candies (they taste very strong, but are VERY efficient). I got the peppermints at Dollar tree, and they've genuinely been a life saver.

Alternatively, I've found this adorable ouija board altoids container that has mints in it!

The mints are even fun-shaped! I also saw other horror-movie themed altoid containers in-store as well. Since they're tiny, they dont work well for severe nausea, but they are still helpful!

2. If you struggle with temperature-regulation:

For me, my hands and feet are always FREEZING, but my core will be super warm. What has helped me a lot has been gloves and fuzzy socks!

I have a lot of spooky gloves like this, but I prefer the fingerless ones because I can still use my phone and be warm at the same time! I've also heard my friends who are wheelchair users say gloves can help protect your hands if you use a manual wheelchair. Another added bonus is that certain gloves can help limit mobility for those of you who struggle with hypermobility in your hands.

3. Do you have noise-canceling headphones? Decorate them!

I decorated my N/C headphones in shark stickers because sharks are my special interest!

These are Soundcore Life Q30's. I have gotten compliments on the stickers many times! You could put halloween stickers on yours or decorate your headphones in other ways! I've seen people crochet horns onto the headband portion of their headphones.

4. I would recommend any chronically ill person carry a cup around to stay hydrated:

ESPECIALLY If you need electrolytes. You can either have a drink like propel or powerade in your cup (or any drink of your choice, and you could put electrolyte packets in there).

This specific cup isn't the best at keeping my drink cold, but it holds a decent amount of liquid! And it's spooky. If you're someone who struggles to drink enough water, I've found that getting a fun cup helps me a lot!

5. Make communication bracelets!

If I'm having a difficult time voicing my needs, or I'm in a verbal shutdown, these bracelets can come in handy for me.

I'll either wear them on my wrist when needed or present them to my friends so they can read the bracelet and understand what I need. I keep them on a keychain that way I dont lose them and can transport them easily. An example of some of the phrases I've turned into bracelets is; "No spoons," "spoon debt," "verbal shutdown," and "flashbacks," (for when I'm having a PTSD episode.) You could make a bracelet with the medical condition you have as a DIY medical-alert bracelet. I added tiny spoon charms to some of my bracelets because I thought it was funny.

5. Mobility aids!

Decorate your mobility aids with things like stickers, kandi, lights, etc! Pinterest, instagram, and tiktok have a lot of good ideas. You can easily customize your mobility aids to look spooky or look however you want them to!

6. Bags!

I know that for me, I NEED to carry a bag around whenever I go out because it has important medical items that I need, but it also keeps all my important items like keys, id, ect, in one spot so that I dont forget / lose them. SOME spooky bags are expensive, but you could find a plain black bag at a thrift store or walmart and accessorize it with patches, keychains, and pins! I've seen people paint designs onto their bags before as well.

• You dont have to spend a lot of money on your accessibility tools!

Find ways to DIY them, or get them secondhand! You could even try working with household items you already have! A lot of these items, or items very similar to it, can be found at the dollar tree - even the materials needed to make the beaded bracelets! (Outside of the spoon charms)

Thats all!

If I think of more, you'll see me again! Be spooky, and be kind to yourself!

[byers-bowlcut]

I've seen people say El likes the IDEA of having a boyfriend more than she actually likes her own boyfriend, and jfc it's so true 😭 Like it's all over the show:

Season 1

She's initially attached to Mike because he's the first person to give her shelter, food, genuine human care and just,, not calling CPS immediately. Her feelings for him was born from trauma and dependency in season 1. And throughout the rest of the 3 seasons, we don't see it grow past that.

Also I think it's noticeable in S1 that:

She was uninterested when Mike tried to share his hobbies with her

She also did not seem to mind AT ALL when she questioned if Mike could be her brother. He voice is neutral and curious here, not the least bit repulsed by the thought of being siblings with Mike, like girl does not care 😭

Season 2

This season has zero onscreen moments of Mike and El actually getting to know each other further. They were separated nearly the whole season.

What we DO see:

El's attachment and dependency on Mike that was developed from S1

We also find out how El spent a year of her life watching melodramatic romance films. Many other middle schoolers might identify that relationships in real life don't work like those films. But El is fresh out of lab life, she's literally learning the world through this TV, and has now become obsessed with the IDEA of having a boyfriend/relationship just like that.

Season 3

Again, no onscreen moments of El showing interest in who Mike is as a person.

The very first scene we see of them, she's trying to get him to stop singing along to the song they're listening to. She seems to like kissing Mike. But isn't shown enjoying anything actually characteristic about him, like sharing interests with him such as music.

Hopper indicates that they don't do anything meaningful together either. We see here that before hanging out with Max, El had little sense of her own style, her hobbies, her interests- meaning spending time with Mike for months probably didn't involve many talking points did it?

Also in season 3, El dumps Mike with ZERO hesitation. Then she has the time of her life with Max. The most acknowledgment we get that she's oh so heartbroken is a small frown to Max that her and Mike aren't on best terms. And even that doesn't seem so paramount cause 1 episode later she totally dismisses Mike after he explains how Hopper threatened him. She just tells him maybe Hopper was right 😭😭

It's literally ONLY once she starts becoming in danger that she starts clinging onto him again. I feel like we've seen this film before hm.

Like where are any signs that she likes Mike as an individual, and is falling for who he really is, rather than simply being attached due to trauma, and liking the concept of doing romantic things (ie: kissing, dancing at the ball, etc.)

Season 4

This is the season it becomes the MOST OBVIOUS: El loves the concept of a happy relationship and being loved, but not really loving Mike for who he is. And bringing in Will's feelings just emphasizes this point.

To start, El continues doing all these relationship-y things that she did in the start of S3. She has Mike's name and pictures plastered all over her room. She makes a "Mike box" with his pictures decorated all over it. But the thing is: this is all sort of a façade at this point. We know she's BEEN unhappy with him for months ("From Mike! From Mike! From Mike!"). But with all these items, she's basically trying to convince herself that she's in this happy, fantasy, movie-like relationship, like she probably watched in hopper's cabin in season 2.

And then, there's the sheer difference between her and WILL in their feelings for Mike. We see it right off the bat when Mike comes to the airport: Will and El both have plans to give Mike something.

Will plans to give him a painting he worked extremely hard on. The painting is a connection of what they BOTH love: DnD, and it includes their friends who also play the game. It's very personal and immediately touches Mike. What's more is, the painting illustrates the exact qualities about Mike that Will loves: his leadership, his bravery, his guidance. This painting literally spells out to us that Will truly loves Mike for WHO HE IS.

Meanwhile, El plans on giving Mike a fun reunion date. She has the whole day planned out. And immediately: we see that what she wants to do doesn't actually takes Mike's interests and personality into consideration. You can see and hear the strain in his voice when he talks about "burritos for breakfast" 😬

You can see how he's not that relaxed at rinkomania, and nervous about skating, saying he's clumsy. He probably would've much preferred movies and playing a board game, over skating. But El has her own ideas. When she brings Mike to rinkomania, she tries to act really cool about it. She wants to impress him, wants to seem like she fits in and belongs.

Her present was never actually ABOUT Mike, and about loving Mike that she would plan this huge date for him. Her present was about her desperately wanting to have this cool date like every other normal teen girl might, with a normal boyfriend, and make it seem like they have a happy perfect relationship.

And then finally we reach their S4 fight. I find it extremely interesting how Hopper's cabin is framed in the background during their whole fight. It's almost like an indication that her desperate need to be loved by Mike stems from her trying to cope with losing Hopper and the hole left by him, that clearly did not exist when she happily dumped Mike in S3.

In their fight, when the topic of bullying comes up, Mike says he understands her, but El is quick to say he doesn't. She thinks Mike doesn't understand her, but this is just as much her not understanding HIM as well.

She doesn't get the extent of Mike's insecurities (definitely partially a result of bullying), something that Mike later divulges to WILL and not her. If the writers wanted to show us how much El understands Mike and loves him for who he is, her and Mike would work through his insecurities in their rs together, NOT through a middle man.

Overall it's pretty striking that we've never once heard El actually compliment Mike, or articulate, or even show what exactly she loves about him through four whole seasons. I mean...

Attachment to him due to trauma or grief =/= loving him for who he is.

Wanting to BE loved =/= loving him for who he is.

So really in terms of a relationship, what El ACTUALLY wants is the concept/idea of a regular boyfriend, and a happy easy relationship, all in an attempt to feel normal. And that's why we see them fall apart the way they do in season 4, and why Will is currently so involved. Because Will DOES see and love Mike for exactly who he is.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 9

[prompt: problematic relationships]

male reader x nana

10k words

"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"

And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.

"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

-

You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.

You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.

You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.

She smiles; it's pretty.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.

You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -

"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”

- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -

“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.

But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.

"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"

There are so many reasons you should turn and run. 

So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.

"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."

"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."

"Nana, by the way."

“I’m sorry?”

“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.

Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.

"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."

"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.

She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.

"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"

The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."

"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."

She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.

"Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"

And - ah, there it is. The push.

-

There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you. 

You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.

But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."

Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.

"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.

Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.

"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -

"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.

"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"

"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."

"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"

"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -

"Not my teacher anymore."

Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.

"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.

But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -

"Here. Let me show you, just one."

"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."

She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.

You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.

"He cums on her desk?"

"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.

So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.

She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst. 

"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.

There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.

“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.

You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"

"Dial it back, Nana."

Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."

You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.

But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.

"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”

-

Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.

She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.

Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.

You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.

"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?

(This fucking girl.)

She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.

She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.

Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."

Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.

-

It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.

Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.

The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.

You tell her, "take these off."

"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.

"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."

Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.

All the things she must be dying for you to do.

"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."

It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:

"Not a fucking chance."

A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."

Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth: 

"Ah."

Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.

"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."

"You haven't the slightest clue."

A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -

"Try me, Nayeon."

"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?" 

Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.

On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."

"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."

And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven. 

"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."

"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:

"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"

And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -

"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."

You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.

Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -

"Please."

- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.

(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)

"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."

You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.

You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.

A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.

“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.

Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -

Until she collapses.

Until it’s over.

As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.

And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.

"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."

The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?

She lifts a brow. "Professor."

So you continue:

"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"

"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.

And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"

You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.

"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."

Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."

(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.

You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)

She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.

Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.

You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks. 

And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.

It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.

“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."

"Flattery or sincerity?"

"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.

And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"

"A bit dramatic."

Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.

"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.

(Hint: it's a whole lot.)

She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Really," the most sarcastic answer.

"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."

You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.

"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."

Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.

"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."

A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.

"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."

"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.

And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."

(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.

Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:

"Like, right fucking now."

Or else.)

Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.

A whimper, "professor."

You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.

You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.

She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"

"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"

"Ngh - oh."

Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.

So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"

And you sink all the way in.

"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."

"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.

"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"

"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."

The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.

"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.

Like music. 

It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart. 

"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."

Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.

But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.

"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.

The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.

You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"

And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.

It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.

"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."

You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."

A short gasp, "yeah."

"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.

"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"

And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -

And then:

Sobering, subjugating silence.

In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.

"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:

"Inside me, like that."

As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"

Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.

There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.

She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.

"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."

(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.

One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.

One more, because you need her again.)

-

When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.

Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.

The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.

The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.

-

But then again,

Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:

You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.

Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.

Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.

-

Here's how you got here:

In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.

Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.

Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.

It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.

The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;

The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;

The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.

That's all here too.

Again:

She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?

Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?

And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.

To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.

-

"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.

When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.

"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -

"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"

"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."

"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"

"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.

The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.

All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.

("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."

"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")

It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -

So, what.

"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."

"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."

Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.

"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"

"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."

The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -

Everything.

[thechekhov]

Hey Chekhov! How do you start converting an AU idea from character sheets and mini comics into a plot outline for a full, continuous comic? Especially if the series you're basing it on isn't complete?

I've been following your white diamond Steven comics for years, and frankly, I love how it builds and continues the scaffolding canon laid to be something that is thematically still the same but also very unique. And I never thought I'll ever say this, but now I'm working on a canon-divergent AU with someone that's I think aiming to do something similar(continue the themes of canon but different). So I'll just like some advice, I suppose!

You might've answered something like this before, honestly, but I tried to dig a little and couldn't really find it.

Thanks, if you do answer this! I just want take the opportunity as well to say also that your comic and blog accompanied me through parts of my late teens, and I'm very grateful for you being a stabilizing influence during that time.

Thank you! I really appreciate you saying that, and I appreciate you respecting me enough to ask for advice.

As for your question...

Well, to be frank, I don't START with character sheets and mini-comics. In fact, for WD!AU, I didn't have any character sheets until I started season 2.

Think of your story as an aquarium. Your characters are fish.

Yes, they're important, but having a whole bunch of fish without any substrate, tanks, feed and WATER..... will not really make for a memorable aquarium experience.

The reality is that all stories should start with an end.

That's my personal approach, anyway.

What I mean is - you need to know the general idea for your story before you begin to write or plan it.

Let's try this:

1.Tell me about your story in THREE sentences!

Just three. Not long ones, just regular ones.

For my AU, @ask-whitepearl-and-steven, it would be:

"A young orphan runs away from home with a mysterious lady who seems more cryptid than human. He realizes that he's not human either - he used to be the ruler of an alien planet! He and the other aliens he meets decide to (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (REDACTED) and he (REDACTED) (REDACTED) (READACTED) (READ ANDCTED) (READ AND FIND OUT)."

YOU should know how YOUR story ends too! Even vaguely.

It helps if you know at what point you plan to lay down the pencil. Because if you DO know, you are always going to know which direction to walk in, even if the end is so far away it's beyond your line of sight.

It's true that when I began WDAU, I didn't have much information about White Diamond and white Pearl, because they had literally ONLY been introduced. I had to guess a lot of the details (like WP being Pink's originally) and what White would be capable of. And thankfully, my original intent for the story's end fit pretty well with what was later revealed!

But don't forget - you could also just fuck around with stuff! It's your story, after all.

And don't forget... to also look back!

2.Tell me WHY the story is happening in the first place.

There's a reason that the beginning of your story happens when it does. If there is no reason to start somewhere, then find a different place to start.

You should be able to tell me "We're picking up the story here because something significant has happened... and that significant thing happened BECAUSE...."

That 'because' is your main background information that should be revealed slowly throughout the story. In WDAU's case, we only have a few pieces of the puzzle. We know Greg's side. He know Earl's side. But there are still little bits and pieces missing! And they're all important for finding out WHY Steven ended up an orphan and WHY he is being followed by White Pearl (Earl) at the very start of the comic!

3.Tell me what the coolest and most interesting things to happen would be....and then write them!

I think this may be something that's rarely said out loud, but I will speak on the behalf of the people...

We should write the scenes we want to read. If you don't want to read the scene you're writing, then DON'T write it!

If you feel like you "have to" do a page and a half of 'lore' because you think it's traditional to have that 'explanation' about the location of your story, or the history of the species or whatever, you're simply wrong. There are other ways to reveal information aside from just forced paragraphs upon paragraphs of information that would make an SAT Reading Section sweat.

Instead, I recommend that you find the most exciting or hilarious way for the characters to discover the most important bits of info. Find a dramatic twist. Shove it into the narrative. Then, figure out what needs to happen to get there.

Ultimately, though, remember this: When you're taking advice from me or from others, don't forget to take advice from yourself, too! It's your story, after all. You know it best, and only YOU can figure out how to get it written.

I hope that helps at least a little bit! Writing it never easy, but it should still be enjoyable!

[greenpumpkinart]

wow 3 posts in 1 day that's crazy

anyways i think it's even crazier that people are STILL trying to police this fandom. Pretentious ass ideas in a fandom that was built off of shitty stories we all know and admit fucking suck.

I've been here for as long as I can remember and forgive me if I'm wrong but I'm PRETTY sure we JUST had a renaissance of sorts surrounding "Cringe Culture is Dead". Dude sounds like HOLLYWOOD trying to shit on others for being creative. It's so pretentious and stupid. What was said was said, no deleting the post is gonna do that.

If you can't write. Don't, right? Asshole. Be so fr and get off of your high horse. What you hold so near and dear isn't exclusively yours, as a matter of fact it was never anyone's to police.

It started on a shitty website. With shitty stories. For people to get scared of. I think the only one who needs to do some growing is that fucking guy.

Be silly. Have fun. Create. Don't let a fucking snob shit on everything this community has always been about.

P.S. Realistic Creepypasta isn't an original thought. Read.

[chaosroid]

I've talked about this before in discord servers so I might as well share my thoughts here as well. I feel like the inclusion of polyamory in BG3 was handled sloppily. Let me preface this by saying I have no issue with poly in general. Really, it's the way it was executed in this game that confuses me. More specifically, it doesn't make sense to me how the poly companions (Shadowheart and Astarion) react to certain dialogue options you can pick and the inconsistencies in characterization that come with it.

If you suggest an open relationship with Shadowheart regarding another companion, she is completely against the idea and explicitly tells you she doesn't want to be your spare lover.

Yet, shortly into act 3, her entire stance changes when it comes to Halsin and she's suddenly cool with it. And before you say "Oh well, she knows Halsin isn't a serious romantic partner so she's not worried", that's the thing, he CAN be a serious romantic partner. And one of the things you can tell her is "He wants me, and I want him. I'm not sure there's space for you and I", ultimately treating Shadowheart like, well, essentially a spare lover, and she's not only fine with it, but encourages this. Does she just not know that your relationship with Halsin can be serious? Because otherwise it feels very ooc for her.

I feel like none of this would've been an issue if SH was just written from the start to be okay in a poly relationship with every companion, instead of this flip fop where she's not okay with it for two entire acts before suddenly being okay with it in act 3 but it's weirdly exclusive to only Halsin. It's that inconsistency that lowkey bothers me.

I have similar issues with Astarion, because some of his reactions to what you can say makes no sense either. Here you have a man who just started rediscovering his sexual boundaries, but when you tell him you want to hook up with Halsin, he'll ask if it's only because he's not putting out enough. You can prove his worry correct and apparently he's okay with this (the dev notes confirm it).

We're supposed to believe he's not hurt by what you said? 'Oh gee, I finally wanna be seen for more than a sex slave but I'm totally fine with my partner fucking someone else the second I refuse sexual intimacy because of my trauma!'. It's just so in bad taste.

You can say things that go completely against what Astarion and SH would want to hear, and they'll still be like "Yep, alright! Have fun with Halsin!". This game has some of the most mature representations of sexual trauma but will then simultaneously turn around and reduce these characters to fanservice, because the people need to have their cake and eat it too I guess.

And sure, you can make the argument that they only trust Halsin with this sort of thing. But the fact that Halsin and his romance only got added late into the game because of horny fans from EA leads me to believe that the far simpler answer is that it was just tacked on last minute without much thought given to whether or not it would actually make sense. Halsin and SH don't even like each other in act 2, she honestly has more chemistry with Karlach (a companion who can actually fantasize about threesomes in her origin btw) and was smitten with her as early as act 1. But I guess for all the folks who wanted a fully wlw poly relationship, that's just not possible because your only option is a man :)

Again, I have nothing against Astarion and SH being poly. It's their jarring responses to some of Tav's dialogue options, in which I genuinely don't believe they would be okay with hearing those things nor would they respond so flippantly.

tl;dr They would not fucking say that

[ghostorbz]

Everyone say hi to my

obnoxiously long ZADR analysis!!!

I've said it time and time again, these two have a deep and complex relationship that most people just write off as "just enemies" when they really aren't!! It's kinda irritating,,, so I wanna analyze how they act and treat each other (though a zadr lens) Because to me it's pretty obvious they deeply care about the other. I'll go over multiple episodes, the movie, unfinished episodes, as well as the pilot and comics and try to explain their relationship. Though some episodes (and many comic issues) will go unexplained if they center only around one of the two, around a different character. or if I just really don't have much to say.

1. The nightmare begins

The first time these two meet is in the first episode when Zim enrolls in skool. Dibs first reaction is staring and pointing at Zim looking crazy. Explaining to the other kids how he's an alien. Ending off the argument by giving the other a stare. After class Dib immediately confronts Zim, showing off his alien sleep cuffs and chasing him around. Zim eventually gets away (or,, flies away I guess) just for Dib to show up at his house and bang on his door saying he's been waiting for this moment and he's prepared. Dib never thought to prepare for garden gnome lasers and gets his alien sleep cuffs incinerated. That's all. I know there aren't any moments that could really be viewed as zadr material here, I just thought it was a good idea to talk about the first episode. It's when they first meet after all!

2. Parent teacher night

Zim thinks of Dib while he's walking home. You could argue Zims only thinking of him because he's worried about parent teacher night, and sure. That's fair. I just wanted to bring it up because it's pretty cute. Dib in Zims head smiles and laughs, even tells him to watch out for the dog. If this really is what Zim is imagining, why would he include him being happy and warning him if he hates him. You can't hate someone that much if you're imagining them smiling and laughing while walking home.

Later on, Dib introduces Professor Membrane to Zim. He runs off only to come back and splash him on the face with fruit punch. A playful thing, nothing insane. Dib even does the same thing later on. Both of them smile while splashing the other. It's silly and harmless. An easy way to express their rivalry without hurting the other.

3. Dark harvest

I know last point could be debated. "Zim was only thinking of Dib because he was worried." BUT. YOU CANNOT EXPLAIN THIS TO ME.

This scene, right here. Literally what was he talking about.

"You see Gaz, to defeat my enemy I must study my enemy, then become my enemy, then move in with my enemy, then wear my enemy's clothes then-"

THEN WHAT?? I could be looking too far into this, but it just seems so intentional. Very intentional. If Gaz didn't interrupt him what was he gonna say? Seeing this bit in another show gives me that answer,,,

WAS Dib gonna say date? Maybe. Perhaps. But we don't know. Other than this part though there isn't anything else I can really mention. Other than the,,, organ harvesting,,, but I'd rather not! So lets move on

4. BattleDib

While this IS a Dib centric episode, I wanted to note he has a hologram of Zims head. How did he get that? It seems to me that he made it, but that begs the question, how did he get everything right? I mean it's an exact replica of Zim out of his disguise. Does he look at Zim that often? And why a 3D hologram? It's not like he doesn't have photos of Zim out of his disguise. He has photos of Zim in his closet. They don't seem like drawings either, they're definitely photographs. This makes me think. Is Zim comfortable enough around Dib to let him take photos of him out of his disguise just for himself? He doesn't even let Gir do that, as we can see with the photograph of Gir and Zim in bad bad rubber piggy (this is assuming Gir took the photograph. It seems like something he would do) So why Dib? Dib has been shown to sneak photos of Zim, but the ones in his closet have Zim posing in some way, and they're pretty close up

5. Planet jackers

This episode is so good. I love it. But we're not here to talk about that. What we're here to talk about is how out of all people to go to, Zim goes to Dib. Zim rings the bell and waits for an answer. He seems nervous too, looking back at Gir for assurance with a worried expression and sighing. To quote another analysis, "When the chips are down it's always, "You're the only person who can help me." Usually they say it's because the other person is the only one with technology advanced enough to help, but there's more left unspoken."

Even IF the other doesn't help, they still go to eachother. They trust eachother enough to ask the other for help. Even if it's hard.

6. A room with a moose

Zim tries to send his whole class away through a worm hole in space. When Dib finds out, Zim doesn't hesitate to tell him everything that's going on. Even saying,

"This wouldn't be as much fun without you sticking your smelly nose in here." "You're really one of the only people who can appreciate the amazingness of this plan, so I'll let you in on what it is." "My mission might not be as exciting without you around to annoy me."

Zim talks about Dib (relatively) positively here. Saying his mission is more fun with him, how sending everyone away would be boring without Dib intervening, and even trusting Dib and letting him know what exactly he's doing.

7. Hamstergeddon

When Peepi starts destroying the town Dib doesn't even seem mad at Zim, just pointing and going

"Anything you'd like to confess?"

He's somewhat used to Zims antics by now. Later on when Zims knocked out Dib thinks over if he really wants to capture him. Of course, Zim wakes up before he can make a decision, but this one part sticks out to me.

"Wait! Zim, promise me you're on our side this time." "I know not of sides, earth stink. But for once I agree with you, the hamster must be stopped."

Dib asks Zim to promise him. Later on he even defends Zim when the army guys try shooting at him. Sure, it could just be because they agreed to work together, but along with Dib overthinking if he wanted to capture Zim, this shows he doesn't really want Zim to get hurt.

8. Bolognius maximus

When Dib tricks Zim into pricking himself with the nail tack, Zim seems to lose hostility towards Dib, smiling while grabbing his hand. The moment Dib "opens up" and praises Zim is when he thinks he's done well. He appreciates Dibs applause, in fact, it seems like he wants it. Saying "finally" before talking about how great he is.

Although, Zim can't find a cure for the baloney thing himself and goes to Dib for help. Dib seems really happy by this, literally GLOWING. In one scene, Zim and Dib glance at eachother when they fail making a cure the first time. To me, it feels like they're looking to see if the other is okay (which is really cute,,, I'm insane about stuff like that)

In another scene, Zim is freaking out because another attempt at a cure was failed. Dib puts his arms out; it seems like he wants to comfort him.

In the end, they never find a cure and hide from the dogs together. You know what they say, together in every universe, even the one where they're baloney,,,

9. Halloween spectacular of doom

The episode that made me ship them,,, siigh,,,

Zim is worried for Dib in the beginning, thinking he could possibly be dead, or a zombie. When Dib ends up escaping the crazy house, he immediately goes to Zim.

"It's the only chance."

When Dib gets captured Zim comes just in time to save him. He's still mad at him, but he comes through anyway. And the line that single-handedly made me ship them,,,

"I'm not here because I like you, Dib."

Dib looks surprised when Zim says this, he knows their relationship as enemies, but for Zim to say it like that shocks him. I wonder if Dib is thinking it in the opposite way, like how tsunderes in anime often say the same line when they really do like the other person. He then calls his head big and Dib responds, it seems playful. Zim then could leave Dib dangling there but no, he protects him and moves him to the back of the machine thingy

10. Megadoomer

When Dib is trying to get his camera back, Zim playfully throws it back and forth so he can't get it. Is this important? No. I just think it's cute. They also wrestled in this episode

11. Tak, the hideous new girl

When Dib finds Zim in his house and confronts him, it could easily be read as Zim being jealous that Dib is spending time with Tak instead of him. Dib even said he was jealous!!

This is also another episode where they team up, so that's nice

12. Backseat drivers from beyond the stars

THIS LOOK. Also the music for this part is really good. Just thought I'd add that

13. Mortos der soulstealer

Dib shows Mortos photos of Zim while talking about him. Not only does he just have photos of his "greatest enemy", he has one of him in the bathroom putting on his contacts. Zim and Dib also wrestle again!! Later on when Mortos leaves, Zim checks up on Dib who's screaming and crying on the floor. Zim seems to be at least a little bit concerned for him.

14. The girl who cried gnome

Zim says,

"I don't care how delicious he is, he's evil!"

"He" referring to Dib. Okay man. It kinda seems like you do care.

15. Vindicated!

While Dib and Mr. Dwicky are waiting, Dib draws Zim in the dirt

Seemingly for no reason,,, they weren't talking about Zim when he was doing this. They were sitting in silence. So WHYY did he draw him,,,

16. The most horrible x-mas ever

This is the episode that made me want to make this post! Originally I had thought Dib was smiling right before he threw the mini santa suit into space but APPEARENTLY I was wrong. I'm still adding it though because this part was the specific reason I wanted to make this

But one thing I can note is that this (sort of) is an episode where they help eachother out! At the end when Zim had given up Dib comes and rescues him. Even if he didn't know he was saving Zim, he did.

Zim seems thankful for Dib saving him too, at least until he's dressed up as the easter platypus.

17. The frycook what came from all that space

While this is a Zim centric episode, at the very end the two chase eachother around. Zim is back on earth and he's immediately brought back to what's familiar. His best friend, his worst enemy.

Now that we're finally done with all the episodes (that I felt the need to talk about) We can get started with the other stuff!! Starting with,,,

18. The pilot

Which you can watch here!

While I'm not sure if the pilot is canon or not, I would like to bring it up. There's a specific scene before the two start fighting where Zim actually takes some time to appreciate Dibs food launcher thing

"An arm-mounted food launcher! Neat!" "You really think so? Thanks! I was up all night working on it." "Well it shows." "Oh, quit it."

They seem to be a bit more friendly in the pilot, canon or not, it's interesting to see!

19. The return of Keef

The whole point of this episode was for Zim and Dib to be friendly in order to make Keef explode, since there was no animation made for it, here's the transcript instead

This shows that the two are embarrassed to be seen hugging, but is it just because they're enemies? Or is there a separate reason? I don't think anyone at skool would believe them to be friends because they hugged once. Or maybe they're afraid it might cause other feelings,,, who knows. It sucks this never got made, I would've loved to see Zim and Dib hug, it would've been super cute!!

20. Mopiness of doom

For this part, I will be using screenshots from Soapy Waffles. While they aren't canon it's the best visualizer for mopiness of doom that I've seen. You can watch it here!

Quite literally the most important part of their relationship gets shown in this episode. I've ranted many many times about this episode and I'll do it again. Dib goes on to pursue "real" science with his dad, while doing this he becomes depressed and sad. Zim becomes closed off and never leaves his house, spiraling into a pretty bad mental state. But the second Dib runs out of that lab and back to Zim both of them seem immediately happier. While they are insulting eachother, it's with familiarity, love. This episode shows one needs the other to keep themself happy. They bring meaning to eachothers lives.

The first scene shows them trying to stop eachother. Of course for it to not work out. The next day when Dib breaks the news to him Zim seems happy at first, but when Dib doesn't stay to watch Zim sounds genuinely upset.

At home, Gir does something stupid but Zim doesn't have the energy to yell or even say anything back. Gir takes this as an immediate sign that something is wrong. Back at Dibs house he's doing really well with his dad and "real" science. Gaz questions him about it, and he's faced with the thing he truly loves and his fathers approval.

A while later, Zim completely lets himself go. It's been weeks and Zim hasn't showed up to school. When Dib is back at the labs, Gir explains to him that he needs to help Zim get out of his depressive state.

Eventually, Dib explains to his dad that he doesn't like "real science." He likes chasing Zim and he likes the paranormal. He runs out and goes back to Zim, who's in disbelief. The two fight but instead out of hatred it's out of affection. Things are back to the way they like it.

On top of that, there's this clip (which I think about constantly)

21. Enter the florpus

Keep in mind I'm not rewatching the whole movie to write this, this has already taken about 6 hours as of typing this. So if I miss a part,,, sorry!

Dib waited months and months for when Zim would show back up. He sat there waiting for ONE person. The one person who also happens to give him meaning in his life

Later on when Zims in his "cheesy cocoon of misery" he explains how he couldn't get Clembrane to make pudding the way Dib likes. With Dib replying that he in fact, doesn't love pudding. Zim still tried to do something relatively nice by trying to get Clembrane to make good pudding for Dib.

And even with everything they've been through so far, Dib is completely willing to work with Zim

Another thing I would like to mention is that the artists/animators for the movie made a ton of doodles in between working, some of them being zadr related! You can see them here

22. Issue 9

Finally onto the comic issues! I haven't read all of them yet, and since there's so many I definitely missed some stuff, but here's everything I could remember. Starting with 9. In this one part, you can see Dib falling asleep on Zims shoulder

23. Issue 12

Zim rescues Dib and tells him to never forget that he hates him. Which could be read as "don't forget that I love you"

24. Issue 13

I don't know what to make of this one actually

25. Issue 30

After Dib found out Zim had the limited edition soda he needed, he did multiple things to try to prove to Zim that he should have it. Though he wasn't very good at them. So Zim decided he wanted a compliment from Dib. Why? Absolutely no clue. After some (intense) thinking, he compliments Zim. Though this could be read as if Dib is embarrassed or flustered

26. Issue 40

I have talked about this before here, but I wanted to mention it again as it SERIOUSLY messed with my head. Knowing that it's canon (if comics ARE canon) that they're together in every universe is insane. I love them so much guys

27. The canon (?) invader zim ending

Okay,, I'm not entirely sure if this is entirely canon or not, but I would like to mention it. In this comic, Zim takes over earth and loses all of his hostility towards Dib and they go to another planet with bunnies and they're having a happy fun silly time. It's really cute!

And I think that's all for now,,, I know I probably missed some things, but I think I got a lot! This has taken like, 9 hours. So hopefully this is good!! I looove zadr so I enjoyed just talking about them :3 uhh BUT YEA!! That's allll I think maybe

[tan1shere]

Changes pt 2

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: it's here at last ... I hope you all enjoy it I honestly don't have much to say but, pt 3 ? Also this whole idea was inspired by a show slightly, if you can guess what it is down below I'll give you a kiss 😁!!

Summary: Ellies the bad girl in the school but she takes a liking to the reader, everyone's worried but the reader somehow changes her for the better ... or does she ?

Warnings: drinking, smoking, the mention of drugs like once. Swearing ? Mentions of anxiety and a beginning panic attack ! Think that's all :)

Masterlist || pt 1 ! Pt 3 !

A few weeks had past, and your bond with Ellie grew even stronger. You spent most of your time with her, although that wasn't very liked by the people around you. "She's gunna hurt you Y/n." Your roommate, Angela warns for what felt like the hundredth time. You know you should probably listen, but maybe Ellie just hasn't been around the right sort of people. Maybe she's changed. You were convinced that's what it was. As you started to get to know Ellie you learnt she was actually quite smart. She knew so much, but she constantly turned up late to classes. Never paid attention. You were confused as to why, she was so talented and bright, why would anyone throw something like that away.

You were currently walking down the halls on your way to your favorite place, yes ofcourse the library. It was like your home away from home. As you walk in you spot Ellie sitting there, doing her usual dribbles and doodles. "Whatcha doin there?" You beam at her as you sit down in a chair close to hers. She looks up at you and gives you a smile. "Just sketching, nothing exciting." She continues to look at you as you get a few things out. "How's the book?" She asks, setting a pencil she held on the table infront of you both. "Its the best, I've been reading it non-stop." You smile more at the question. She just smiles at your smile. "Told you, it's such a good read." A silence filled the air, not an awkward one, or a comfortable one. Just a silence, one that was as if there was something still to be said. You could feel it, so you look up at her. She was just looking at you, admiringly. But for some reason she stops, clearing her throat a little bit and getting back to her drawing. Odd? Maybe a little.

Ellie knew she wasn't the relationship type. She knew she wasn't classed as 'good' she knew she flunked on many things. She knew this. So why does it feel like she's feeling something for you. That never happens, she uses people- as bad as that sounds she won't sugar coat it, she knows she's done wrong. Is she going to do it to you too? She had no idea and the thought honestly frightened her, she's never felt this way for anyone in her life. She needed to put those thoughts aside she couldn't fall. But oh how beautiful she thought you were. Your hair looked so well taken care of, perfect features. Not too much makeup just light amounts, your pretty skin and how soft it genuinely looked. Minding your own business as you read, focusing on what it is you're reading. She couldn't, this isn't good. Especially when she has no faith in herself to not hurt you. But she couldn't give it up, she wanted to be in your presence you were so sweet and inviting it made her feel warm.

She had to not give into all these feelings at all. "Ellie?" You tilt your head slightly to get a better look at her face. You two were currently in her room working on something that was assigned to the both of you. She wasn't paying attention which you found out was normal for her to tube out and go into her little land. "Yeah sorry, just thinking." You slowly nod, continuing to speak about the project. She let's out a sigh. "I'm sorry am I boring you?" You let out a light hearted giggle as you say that, she begins to get defensive. Worried she had hurt you in some way. "No no no, ofcourse not! The complete opposite. Sorry I'm just a bit tired." She admits. You still laugh a tiny bit. "I'm just being silly Els." She swallows. That name that you acquired recently, makes her insane.

But definitely in a good way, she loves it. Was she a fool for you or something. You go to speak again, but shut your mouth. It had been dawning on you, the question you wanted to ask so badly. So you just come out and ask. "Why are you always ditching classes, why aren't you applying yourself?" She looks directly at you as you say this. She just shrugs. "You're incredibly smart Ellie. I don't know why you're-" You continue, although she shuts it down. "I really don't want to talk about this." She blurts, making you shut up for a sec. "Yeah no ofcourse." Awkward silence, but she breaks it with yet another sigh. "I'm sorry that was harsh." You just shake your head. "No no, I shouldn't of been nosey, it's not my business." You give her a tiny smile. Yet again. More silence.

"Right well, we shou-" "you want a smoke?" You were stunned by the question. You watch as she gets up. It was a little upsetting to see her not care about this project. "Elli-" She turns around. "Oh yeah no ofcourse, I shouldn't of asked." "El-" But she wasn't done. "That was a silly question, you don't seem like the type to do th-" "ELLIE." The room went quiet, she just looks at you. "Will you just shut up for a second." You laugh slightly. "Why are you avoiding this project?" She shrugs. She really likes doing that, huh. "I dunno, it's stupid." You furrow your brows slightly. "But this would be so easy for you Els." Theres that name again. She begins to smoke whatever the fuck she is smoking, seemingly to ignore you. You roll your eyes a tiny bit, closing the books that you had in your grasp, while going to get up, and walk over to her. She watches you, continuing to smoke. However she wasn't expecting your next move.

You get on your tiptoes and snatch it out her hand. "Hey!" She stands up properly. You keep ahold of it. "I'll give it back once you do some of this work!" You laugh a bit. She looks at you. With a 'be so serious' look. "Like I can't just snatch it right back." She walks towards you slowly, making you back up. "Well I won't let ya." She lets out her own laugh. "Did you forget your hight?" You glare at her. "I am not, that short." She raises a brow, getting closer to you going to try grab it, but you swiftly move your arm so she can't. "I may be tiny but I'm smart." She goes to try again. "Yeah well so am I." Again, she tries and fails. "Well if you're so smart use it for the project." She completely ignores that deciding to bend down and put you over her shoulder. You let out a small screech, going to grip the cig a bit tighter so it doesn't fall.

She drops you on her bed being careful still, making you bounce slightly on the mattress. She goes for the cig now that you are more grounded, but yet again you move it so she couldn't. You let out a giggle at how difficult she's finding this. "Not funny, you." She tries. Again. You laugh more at her poor attempts. "Right that's it." She pins your arms down as you try get out of her grasp, but before she could do all that you put it in your mouth having it rest there. "Gunna have to unpin my arms if you want it." You mumble still having it against your lips. "You're trouble huh." You let out another laugh. She goes to unpin one of your arms and when she does you quickly grab te cigarette from your mouth and hold it above you.

You could see the slight frustration in her eyes, you try hard not to let another laugh slip. "Gimmie it." "Do the work." She stares at you for a moment. "Oh you wanna play games?" She wastes no time into tickling you. One thing she didn't know but definitely was going to find out is that you were incredibly ticklish. Your eyes widen. "No no noooo." She doesn't listen, continuing the assault to your sides, you squirm trying to escape it. "Ellie!" You let out constant giggles. She smirks seeing you weren't paying attention and snatching the cigarette right back into her grasp, sticking it back into her mouth. But she didn't stop tickling you. "Say you're sorry Missy!" You laugh more. "Hell no!" Shes close to you. "Then the tickling shall continue." You keep laughing and honestly. Ellie enjoys this.

She really enjoyed your laugh, she loved to hear it. The fact she could make you laugh so easily made her heart happy. She's never seen anyone else make you laugh like she has, and sometimes she doesn't even try. But she manages to always pull a laugh or giggle from your lips. "Ellie pleaseee." She shakes her head. "Stand down!" You laugh. "Fine fine I surrender, I'm sorry!" You're still laughing even when she's stopped. But like most times silence overcame this scene. It was never an awkward one though. You look at each other. "Can we do some of the project now." You ask her. She stays quiet for a bit. Pondering. "Come on Ellie, it's not much and it's not like you'd struggle or anything-" you cut your sentence short. You hadn't realized how close you two were, she's most definitely noticing this too. You swallow keeping the eye contact going.

But she takes the cigarette out, turns her head and blows some smoke, beginning to get off of you. "Can I ask you something?" You sit up a bit once shes off, nodding. "Yeah ofcourse." You were intrigued. "What do people tell you about me?" You look at her, wondering how to go about this. "They just tell me to be careful and such." Now you shrug, sitting up more into a criss cross position. "Can I ask a question now?" She looks at you and nods. "Why do they tell me that. What's so bad that you've done." That silence was upon the room again. Another famous Ellie sigh. "I'm not a completely great person, maybe I'm working on it I dunno. But I don't date. I can't it's just not in me." You listen to all she has to say. "Why?" Usually people who asked such questions would get shut down by her. But she genuinely wanted to tell you, she loved the way you'd listen, to anyone. The way you'd take in every detail of information. "I'm not too sure."

She sits on the bed with you. "I just don't know if I can bring myself to being committed to anyone. You know?" You nod, taking in what she has to say. "I dunno, maybe I haven't found the right person." You keep looking at her. "Hmm, maybe." Silence. "You think you ever could?" She sighs a tiny bit. "I could do, no way of truly telling until the time actually comes." "Noted." For the first time ever with you two, there was a slight awkwardness in the air. You wanted to say something to fix it but you just stay silent. "What about you?" You became confused by the question. "What about, me?" You inquire. "Yeah, you been with people? You a relationship kinda girl?" You laugh a tiny bit at the question. "I've been in a few, nothing serious but I definitely am a relationship girl." She nods, going to take one last drag of her cig, going to put it out in an ashtray on her windowsill.

It was a few days later, you were currently on your way to your dorm, Angie was out for the night so you had a hot date with your blankets and your book. As you were strolling down the halls you caught sight of a friend in your class, you smile at him. "Hey, kenny!" You say with joy. He returns the smile, coming over to you. "Hey Y/n, what you got planned for tonight?" "I'm going to relax, read and eat." You smile more. "How about you? Anything exciting?" He shrugs. "Probably going to chill also, or go to a party." You nod, knowing he was probably confused on why you were staying inside on a Friday night, you didn't really know each other very well so you aren't surprised if he is. "You keep to yourself alot huh?" You nod proud. "Sure do, keeps me sane." He laughs a tiny bit. "Well I mean not completely to yourself." You furrow your brows. "What do you mean?" He pauses for a sec, looking at you. "I see you with Williams alot." "Oh yeah, she's cool to hang out with." He doesn't say anything immediately.

"What are you two? Like fuck buddies or something?" More confusion. "Excuse me?" You laugh slightly. "Well I never see her with many people unless she's fucking them soo." You stare at him. "Do people think that? Like about me and her" He shrugs. "I know I do, maybe others. But what are you two?" Why was he so intrigued by it. You knew she didn't have a great rep but seriously? "Well shes a good friend." He thinks for a moment. "She don't have many of those." You were baffled by this man and what he had to say. "I guess you just truly don't know her then." You don't know why you felt so irritated by this, but you go to leave. "Don't start anything with her, you're too pure for her antics." You stop in your tracks, going to turn back around. "And don't judge a book by its cover." You simply state. "Bit hard when that cover hasn't had the best past." You sigh. "People change." "Not Williams. Trust me we all thought that once, there's no changing her-" you go to cut him off.

"What are you talking about." He looks at you as if he was the one confused now. "You don't know?" You shake your head. "This has happened before, she almost dated this girl who thought would change her, she shitted big time on her. She doesn't even go here anymore and it was all because of Williams." You didn't want to believe that, it sounded horrible. "I'm sure she didn't leave just because of that." There was a tiny pause. "Nope, definitely was. She broke that poor girls heart. Couldn't even bring herself to come back, so she moved. I'm just trying to save you from-" you shut that down immediately. "I can handle myself, thank you though. But I don't need you telling me this." He shrugs. "Alright, just letting you know before you get too far gone with her." And that was that you both turned to leave. Did everyone just hate this girl? How could almost the whole school be so against her. You try to ignore all of this, wanting to go read, that is until you get a text.

-Hey, you busy tonight?

Speak of the devil. It was Ellie. You couldn't help but smile at your phone.

-I was going to have a night of reading, but you're more than welcome to join me, my roommate isn't going to be there so it'd be nice and quiet.

-how could i possibly decline that generous offer ;) see you soon?

-bring a book! 🤓

-holding one right now 📖

You smile more, making your way to your door and grabbing the keys to unlock it. You were brought to your senses when you could smell what seemed to be vanilla, you knew it was Angies perfume, she would always wear it whenever she'd go see her boyfriend. It always made you smile when she'd go on dates, she'd be so genuinely happy to get dressed up, telling you how amazing he was and how happy he made her. It was nice to hear. You set your things down on the couch, heading into your room to grab some blankets and such, making a space on the couch for them. You were soon startled when you hear a knock on the door, to it being opened. "Hello hello hello." Ellie says coming in. "Oh hey, I was just getting the couch nice." She closes the door behind her. "What book did you bring?" You ask, looking over at her. "I- honestly have no clue just picked up something random." She states, coming over to the couch and sitting down. "Good day?" She leans back into the cushions, kicking her feet up on the coffee table.

"Yeah pretty good, bit slow but it got there in the end. And you?" Coming over to sit down next to her, bringing the blankets up your body. "Pretty much the same." You couldn't help but laugh. "What's so hilarious." She smiles ever so slightly. "I dunno, I just assume they're boring because you don't do anything." She raises a brow. "Not true. I have so much fun." "Oh yeah? What do you do that's so fun?" You open your book up, taking the Bookmark out preparing to read once you were done with the conversation. "I go on a secret mission, shhhh I can't talk about it." You laugh and roll your eyes. "You're so incredibly goofy." She smiles more. "You love it." Your smile softened a bit, you truly did. You loved how she would be so silly, especially since you didn't get to see that side of her until you were alone together. You avert your eyes over to the words on the page, beginning to read your book. She does the same opening up the random book to start.

After a little bit, you wanted to just talk. As you're still looking at your book you speak up. "I had a weird interaction today." She looks up, and at you. "Oh?" You do the same, nodding. "Got told to stay away from you, again." She lets out a sigh. "I'm sorry people are bombarding you with that-" But you just shake your head. "Trust me it's fine, it doesn't bother me. What gets to me is how hung up they are on the topic." You truly couldn't wrap your brain around it. "He told me about this girl you had almost gotten into a relationship wi-" "he?" She stops your words. You look at her as she does so. "Yeah?" She furrows her brows more. "Who is this guy?" "His names Kenny, you know him?" She rolls her eyes. "Who doesn't know him, he's always in people's faces." You keep looking at her as she speaks, when a sudden sigh comes out.

"The reason he told you that was because he was super close to her. He got furious at me when the whole thing happened and it eventually turned into a huge fight. Silly, drunken fight." This makes you raise your brows. "Oh my God." "It was all okay, no one got badly hurt but it happened, I moved on. Clearly he hasn't." You think for a moment, wondering if you should ask what you wanted to or stay in your lane and just keep quiet. She noticed your silence. "What're you thinking 'bout pretty girl?" Trying to ignore how happy that name made your heart, you push all the fear away and just ask. "What did you even do to her." Ellie goes quiet tho as if she didn't want to talk about it. "I- uhm just forget that sorry." You bite your lip feeling awful for even bringing it up. She puts a reassuring hand on your knee. "I don't mind. It's ok, I promise just caught me a little off guard is all." Listening to what she says, you nod. "I was never really present in the relationship, sort of a bit closed off. It wasn't even a relationship really, more of a- I dunno. We got on very well but at the same time I don't think she understood me truly. She was a great person, I honestly thought she was going to be my very first girlfriend." You cut her off. "Wait wait so you haven't dated anyone at ALL?" You knew she struggled to be in relationships.

But to have never been in some sort of one before, shocks you. "Never ever?" She lets out a breath. "Okay, sorry continue." You hear a tiny laugh come from her, making you smile a bit. "Anyway, I just couldn't do it. I knew I felt something but not enough to commit to anything serious like I knew she wanted. But I couldn't bring myself to let her go for so long. When one night she asked me, and I froze. I stood there trying to find some words to tell her nicely that I couldn't." Ellie stops for a second, which worried you. "Oh God, what did you do." There was silence. "I told her she wasn't relationship worthy.." Your mouth opens slightly. "Jesus Ellie." "I know, I'm not proud of it I'm really not. Especially her face after, I felt so bad deep inside but I think I made things worse with my dry facial expressions.." shocked would be an understatement. You had no idea how to respond. "No one knows that. Your actually the first person who knows the true story. The rest just made up silly rumors of how it ended, she left soon after so no one really knows the full story but me."

Still not knowing what to say you move your gaze to her. "Please say somethin." She says awkwardly. "You're not the best with words are you?" You let out a tiny giggle. She scratches her neck. "Is it obvious?" You shake your head slightly, with a roll of your eyes. "Dumbie." That silence you two always came across, occurs. You love it, it was comforting if you were quite honest. "We aren't doing much reading." She pipes up, making you look at her. "We aren't are we." You laugh a bit, setting it down and going to stand. "Where are you off to?" Honestly you didn't know, but you felt like putting music on. "Going to get my speaker, I always put on some music when Angela is out." Ellie learns more about you everyday. "What kind of music. Some heavy metal shit." Another laugh escapes you. "What do you take me for?" "I dunno, you surprise me very often." You had the speaker in hand, setting it down on the coffee table. "Honestly, if I like a song I like it, I don't have a specific type." She smiles. "Well said." You turn your head, looking at her. "And you?" She thinks for a sec, letting out a hum in thought. "Well as long as it's not some yehaw shit." This makes you laugh, harder than you have before. "Really? Now that's something I would've thought you'd like." She scoffs, throwing one of the pillows that were rested on the couch at your face.

But you catch it quickly. "Ugh, rude." Throwing it back at her she just laughs. You grab your phone and play your Playlist, sitting back down in the position you were in before. "So, loves to read, doesn't like heavy metal, is very ticklish." The last one makes you pinch her shoulder, resulting in her holding her arm with dramatics. "What else am I going to find out about you." You think for a moment. "I guess you'll have to wait and see." She tilts her head. "You a party person?" Honestly you had no idea, you hadn't been to the kind of party she's talking about in your entire life, so how could you tell if you liked them or not. "Can't judge when I've never been to one." Now it was her who was gobsmacked. "Never, ever?" She quotes you from before. "Shut up. I find fun in other things." She looks offended. "I've been to some pretty wicked parties ma'am." You roll your eyes. "You love doing that too, don't you?" She points at your face. "What? Roll my eyes?" She nods. "They'll get stuck like that if you aren't careful." She says, seeming serious but you knew she was being a dickhead.

"Oh Har Har." "No need to fake laugh around me. We all know how hard I can make you laugh." You raise a brow. "Oh really?" She nods. "Yes really, I'm the master." She notices the look on your face and smiles wickedly. "Challenge accepted." "Wait-" But she pounces on you, going straight to tickling you. You try to push her off, giggling as you do so. "Ok ok stop, point proven." Shes now laughing too, but they both die down as your eyes meet. As corny as that sounds its true, you two were currently so close to one another. You could feel the coolish air from her nose. Then something just clicks in her brain and. "Y/n." You keep the eye contact. "Mhmmmm." "I think I like you." You let out another giggle. "You think?" The look that's on her face makes you giggle more. "No like I know I do.." There was a long pause which made Ellie worry. "Is this the first time you've ever said that to someone." She nods reluctantly. You soon become more serious. "Like actually like me?" You sit up, staring at her at the confession. "I've never said that to a girl before. Never."

Looking down, you take in this information. "I think I like you too Els." You let a small smile slip but she just playfully rolls her eyes. "So what now then?" That, she hadn't thought too far into. But as she wonders what this could become those bad thoughts of hurting you cross her mind, usually she wouldn't care. Horrible as that is she never did care. Maybe you truly are changing her. And what she does next truly shocks the crap out of you. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

You had said yes. Ofcourse you were thinking of those thoughts too, but you had hope she wouldn't, consider yourself stupid? Maybe. You just wanted to live in the moment, if anything keeping it a secret was the most hardest thing throughout this all. The first time you and Ellie kissed you were just hanging out in your room, Angie was home and she had come in without knocking, thank goodness she saw nothing. You've also gotten closer with Jesse and Dina, they were so kind. You were sitting with them and Ellie one day having some food in the small Cafe they have down there. "I'm just going to get some more of that Cake, you want any?" She looks at you, you just shake your head no. As she goes to leave tho, Dina turns to you. "She has this new glow to her." A hum leaves your lips as you eat. "Maybe being around you is changing her." She continues. "If so can you like stay forever." Jesse then speaks. It made you laugh slightly. "I'm not going anywhere." They look at eachother. "Well that's if she doesn't do anything stupid." Damn, even her close friends have no hope in her. You'd be lying If you said that didn't worry you much.

More time passes and it's getting harder to keep the secret, you didn't really care for what anyone else had to say about it, but you sure did worry about Angie, Dina, and Jesse. You had bonded with all of them so well you didn't want them to hate you entirely. Today, you weren't as careful. You were currently hanging out with Dina and Jesse in your room, chilling. When you hear a knock at the door. "Hold up let me just get that." As you get up to go see who it was, you forgot to close your bedroom door. You open it, but before you can process anything you're being kissed, you froze. "Hey baby." Ellie then says after pulling away, gently grabbing the flesh of your ass. Open, your mouth was open in shock. "BABY?" You then heard Dina screech, coming out of your bedroom along with Jesse. "Uh oh-" Ellie then says, removing her hand. You swallow as you turn around slowly. "Ermmm." They were shocked. "Ain't no way." Dina continues. You were stumped. What were you suppose to say? "Really Ellie, another poor heart?" Ellie furrows her brows.

She was going to say something but you step in. "Hey, that's not entirely true. How do you know she will do that, she can change you kno-" Dina shakes her head. "She's not changing Y/n, she will hurt you." Ellie scoffs. "Right here you know." Dina looks at her. "Don't even think about hurting her, Ellie. Come on Jesse." They both go to leave. "We warned you." She says to you. You just stay quiet, watching as they go. Silence was left in the room. "I'm sorry I should've said something-" Ellie shakes her head. "Don't be, seriously. What's done is done it's not your fault, promise." She says, putting her hands on your shoulders then moving them to your cheeks. You nod slightly. "Well, do you think they hate us now?" She laughs a tad. "You? Never. Me? Always. But it's understandable so I can't blame them." You look down, it sadden you how they saw her, you knew she hadn't been so great in the past- but that was in the past. Right? She makes you look at her again, putting her thumb and index against your chin. "Don't worry about them or anything else yeah? That shouldn't be a concern." You nod at her words, getting on your tiptoes to kiss her. "Anyways are you hungry?" You asked as you make your way into the small kitchen you and Angie had.

Ellie shakes her head. "Well, not for food." She shrugs while having a sly smirk on her face, that makes you grab a piece of bread that was sitting on the counter and throw it at her. Which earns a chuckle from her lips. "You're gross." She holds her hands up. "Whattt can't admire my yummy girlfriend?" You roll your eyes. "Far from that-" "Ay! Dont talk about my girlfriend like that thank you very much." This only makes you laugh now, making her smile too. "Well, I'm going to have a snack because I'm quite hungry." You state, going over to grab something to munch on. You then feel hands on your waist, and a chin on your shoulder. "May I help you." She just shakes her head, soon after hiding it in your neck. "Nurp, comfy." That warmed your heart, she was such a sweet person. As you were fixing up some food you felt warm soft lips on your neck, so delicate and gentle. It made you close your eyes relishing in the tenderness. "You smell so good." She blurts out, keeping the warm kisses going. You hum in response. "You smell so.. bad." She pinches your waist making you giggle. "Ow!" "I don't smell bad, take that back!"

You only giggle more. "You smell like cigarettes." She gasps. "You've told me you love the way I smell! Liar!" You roll your eyes, but she swiftly turns you around in her arms, grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks. "Els-" She stares into your soul, making you laugh out. "What on earth are you doing?" "Shhh, making your eyes stay like the way they did since you love doing that so much." She continues to do whatever with her eyes. "Oh my god." You proceed to shove her off of you, but her grip tightens. "You're such an idiot." She smiles. "Yeah well I'm your idiot, so suck it up buttercup." She kisses your nose and loosens her grip, going to lean against the counter. "You really do look great today. Just thought I'd remind you." You smile sweetly at her. "You look pretty beautiful yourself." Shes now smiling too. "Im the pertyest." You laugh at the way she said it, making her smile grow. She could never get over how pretty your laugh was. It was her favorite thing, ever.

It had been a few months or so since you and Ellie first got together, maybe a bit longer but who's counting you. Currently you were making your way to her dorm, like most Friday nights. Knocking on the door to be greeted by your beautiful girlfriends green eyes. "Hey baby." You smile, and so does she. "Hello Ms thing. Come in come in." She moves out the way so you can enter, going straight to the couch and making yourself comfortable. "What have we got planned tonight?" You ask. You two usually always did a special something on a Friday night. Her roommate was out on most of them so you'd come over to Ellies. "Well I know how you feel about parties, and if you don't want to we can chill out here for the night, but there's one a few dorms down." You ponder this idea, and honestly, why not. You figure it'll be fun especially with Ellie and how enjoyable she could make anything be. "Sounds like a plan." She raises her brows, genuinely happy you agreed. "Awesome, I'm getting changed because I just came straight here from my last class." She mentions going to go do that.

You do a double take. "You? In class?" She scoffs. "Shut up." Which makes you smile. "Noo, it's great i'm glad." She shortly comes back out. "Your sarcasm is lovely." She sarcastically replies. "You ready?" You nod at her question. "Sure am."

The music was booming, so many crowds of people. The smell of alcohol and potentially what you assumed was drugs. Pleasant. "Oh this ones going to be a good one I can feel it." Ellie says looking around, scoping everything out. "You're so silly." "Come on let's get a drink." You follow but she knows you don't drink. "I'll be the sober help." She looks at you. "Not even one love?" Her question makes you shake your head as she puts a hand on your shoulder. "Alright, just make sure you're comfortable yeah?" She says before giving you a kiss. You smile at her words, beginning to feel weirdly anxious about the night, and you had no idea why.

People were everywhere it was all quite alot to take in. As you were sitting on Ellies lap you noticed how drunk she was. It was different seeing her like this. "Mmm I want another." She would slur. Making you let out a light giggle. "You're so gone Els-" "your laughs so pretty, makes my heart warm." She suddenly says. You smile more at her. "Well that's very kind of you." After a little you let out a sigh, you felt like you weren't being fun right now, you didn't want to disappoint Ellie but you had so much anxiety currently, and you had no idea on how to stop it. "Can you pretty please get me another drink my beautiful girlfriend." She taps your side, holding up her empty cup. You smile at how precious she was right now. "Sure can." You take it from her going to get off and head over to the drinks. As you're over there you feel someone next to you. "Here with Williams?" It was Kenny. You look at him. "Is that illegal?" He stares at you. "Are you dating her?" You huff. "What even is it to you Kenny?" He shakes his head. "Youre going to get hurt." "Im doing just fine thanks." You turn to leave, back to Ellie. "Here you go." You say a little dryly. "Thank youu." She muddles her words, grabbing it off of you. You sit back down in her lap. "Was he hassling you?" You hear her ask. "Who, Kenny? Nothing I can't handle my love." You reassure her, although you think it was slightly getting to you. She just nods in return.

The night went on, and your chest still had that same feeling, your anxiety was increasing. You wanted to have fun with your girlfriend and friends but you just couldn't seem to relax. It made you more anxious that Ellie wasn't with it. You're starting to think its childhood trauma that's making you feel this way, you didn't know how to just shut this weird feeling off. "You alright mama?" Ellie asks, rubbing your shoulder, still drunk as anything. You just nod and bite your lip, chewing that silky skin off nervously. "I'm just going to go for a pee." You tell her, getting up and heading to wherever the bathroom is. Once you find it you head in, going to the sink to splash water on your face in hopes it'd calm you down just a little bit. "You're fine, Y/n just take a breath and relax. Everything's fine." You say to your reflection. You leave, entering the booming party once again, going over to where Ellie was last seen but she's not there, odd. Making your way around you try to find her, hoping she's alright and she hasn't got into something bad, knowing how some idiots can be with drinks. As you make your way around the room your heart completely sinks to the floor, you stand there unable to move.

All your emotions crashing down on you. Shock being the main one, then anger. You truly couldn't believe any of it, was it some silly nightmare? There Ellie was just stuck to some girl. Kissing her. After that shock wears off you felt your anxiety push your anger into motion, moving your feet over to her. You make a cough noise, seeing her pull back from it turning slightly. She may of been drunk but she knew exactly what had happened. "Fuck-" She says under her breath. "Wait baby no i-" You grab her drink and chuck it in her face. "No." You point at her, the girl silently sneaking off. "Ellie what the actual fuck." She just stares at you. Now you feel your tears now they start to come, and her heart breaks. Tears spill at the sight you just witnessed, she's never seen you cry before. You're always so cheerful. So it truly ruins her. "Y/n no no please-" "After everything we've been through, after what you told me. They were wrong. You cant change for anyone. I should've listened to them." She immediately shakes her head. "Don't say that please- it was an accident fuck- she just-" But you shove the cup into her chest. "Shut up Ellie." And she does but she needed to tell you how sorry she was.

After a second of standing there you couldn't look at her anymore. "Wait-" She pleads as you begin to walk off, getting lost in the crowd of people, it was such a huge room you had no idea where you were even heading. The anxiety approaches again, all you wanted was to get back to the comfort of your own room. Your tears still dripping slightly, fogging your vision. You plop down on a random sofa, feeling a panic attack arise. Which freaks you out as you haven't had one of those in many years. You try to even out your breathing, which you managed to do. But everything was so overwhelming. Someone sits next to you, and great it was none other than Kenny. "Did she do something." You sigh. "Good God Kenny. Please just stop." He scoffs. "So im right, correct? Fucking Williams." You turn your head away, just wanting to get out of this unfamiliar place. He places a hand on your leg, making you stiffen. "I'm sorry she did, you never should deserve something like that." This makes you turn your attention to him. "She always steals the girls I like. And ruins their lives." Your eyes widen. "Wha-" "I could treat you so much better." He says. You were baffled by this. "Kenny what are you even-" When you couldn't think this night could get worse, it does. He goes to try and kiss you but you dodge it immediately, standing to your feet. "Kenny no- im really not interested." He begins to stand too. "That's what she said." You smelt it on his breath. "Kenny you're drunk, I think you need some water-"

He shakes his head getting close to you again, your overwhelming anxiousness comes back again, especially once you see him flush to the floor. Your attention is now on Ellie who punched the living shit out of him. "Ellie what the fu-" "He touched you!" You facepalm. "Good God I have nowhere near enough energy for this shit." The night couldn't get any worse as Kenny stands back up, the two drunk as anything. "You bitch." He goes to swing at her but she moves. "Fight round two then, you fucker." She begins it all. You don't even know what to do anymore. "You're both children." You state, going to try find the exit. You had to get back, this night was all too much. But Ellie notices you leaving, so she goes after you. "Wait no- please let me explain!" She grabs your arm but you yank it. "No Ellie. Don't ever touch or even speak to me again." "They weren't right, you have changed me i swear to you!" You shake your head. "Once a dick. Always a dick. You. Have. Not. Changed." You spat.

[utilitycaster]

if you're up to elaborating, i would love to hear more about your complicated feelings on Taliesin's reads of this campaign, because that's something that's been itching my brain but I'd been having a hard time pinpointing why and I'm interested to hear your thoughts!

So I think it's best summarized in part as a combination of what was said in this post I just reblogged and these tags from @kerosene-in-a-blender on this post:

#yeeeaaaahhhh#ngl it seems like the characters and parts of the cast got so caught up in the potential moral dilemma of interventionist gods#that they forgot the gods of exandria aren't particularly interventionist#critical role#critical role spoilers#cr spoilers

Ashton feels like they learned something about their own arrogance and assumptions with Shardgate...and then it just vanished. And the fact that Taliesin genuinely read that as what was supposed to happen when like 3-4 authority figures, some of whom (Allura) have existed since Campaign 1 as People To Listen To had said "This is a bad idea" in plain language does give me pause because like...with all due respect, I get why Ashton would do this anyway! But come on, man, how do you hear that and not go "oh maybe it's a bad idea."

I don't want to read in too much to cooldown and 4SD either but I really do just feel that like...some of the cast, and Taliesin isn't alone in this but definitely seems to be using it the most in-game, have come under the impression that the purpose of this campaign is specifically to upend everything we knew...but that idea is just an assumption that is not supported, and as I've said repeatedly, there is no situation in which the world is not drastically changed - there's going to be either a hostile alien invasion, or a friendly alien migration, but either one will be monumental within Exandrian history, and that's not counting the establishment of the Accord/the collapse of local institutions in both the Dwendalian Empire and Bassuras/ If one cannot see any possibility for vast change within the world other than killing/driving out the gods, I don't know how to address this nicely. This is an uncreative and stupid position that I can't engage with because it's so stupid. It's like saying World War II didn't change anything in our world because at the end of it the US and USSR both still existed largely intact. So the over-focus on only one means of change in a way that feels based on an interpretation of this campaign's purpose that isn't even stated anywhere is telling and deeply frustrating.

As the second post indicates, it feels like some of the cast, Taliesin especially, got caught up in a theological argument of divine intervention that personally I had a great time debating in Hebrew school when I was 13, but is not ultimately true in Exandria (or reality, for that matter). On some level it's like maybe read some Harold Kushner and you'll calm down; it feels like you're arguing against like, some very real religious tenets (that are not exclusively Christian for once) but in a story where that's not actually a problem.

I'd throw in that Bells Hells sit in this awkward place of not being nobodies (or Nobodies) anymore but many are still acting like it and Ashton is at the forefront. Indeed, look at the name "the Nobodies." The problem is that Ashton is a Somebody now. He's not like, the ruler of a city, or an ancient dragon, or a god. But they're someone who has the personal raw power and the connections to survive an ill-considered second shard absorption. They're someone who is easily going to survive a fall out of a window, and who can't be bound into service. They are someone who has been entrusted by the world to assist in saving it, and they're too fixated on the gods not personally saving them to consider the vast potential harm to others, and I think it's not inherently out of callousness but rather that they've rather abruptly risen from "orphan criminal who expected to be dead by 30" to "guy tasked to save the world" but they have no option but to rise to the occasion, as the Raven Queen said. To change the world, he must change himself, and I feel like Taliesin, who often enjoys the idea of characters who don't change, is perhaps too wed to that concept for this particular narrative. And, for what it's worth: I've said it before that my personal preference is to keep the gods in place...but I would genuinely be MILES happier with a party that decisively had decided to kill the gods. I would not agree with their decision, but anything is better than this indecision. And since Ashton is pretty staunchly in favor of killing the gods and the rest of the party is varying degrees of strongly against (Orym, Braius), weakly against (Chetney, Fearne, Imogen, increasingly Laudna) and unsure but worried specifically about the mortal impact (Dorian) at some point it's like. Either say "I don't like this, but this is the party's plan" or leave. The decisiveness matters on an individual level too; because Bells Hells does not have good internal methods of resolving conflict for reasons stated above and below, at some point it's like. You have to give it up because no one will make you. If Ashton genuinely cannot or will not yield on this, either commit to betraying the party (totally valid, could be a great story) or have them leave; if Ashton does trust the party, have them reluctantly give in. A party-wide choice must be made and fast. The party is aimless because they are all pulling in different directions and it all cancels out, but Ashton is definitely contributing extensively to that agonizing stasis.

I suppose I should wrap up with what I've been saying a lot but should probably go on this post which is that a lot of the flaws in this campaign are not any singular person's fault. I really do feel like they began with the fact that Matt was clearly building to this specific story, and Bells Hells were not a party terribly suited to it in the first place and then were given an earlier narrative that, because it was heavily on rails to get them to the solstice setpiece, failed to give them the tools to become people who would be prepared for this endgame. I think Matt really wanted the cast to make the decisions here, and did not have a specific decision in mind, and now they're all finding that they're playing characters who can't make that decision. It's a culmination of a lot of smaller out-of-game choices that have failed to gel into a coherent whole. When I say the Raven Queen was right, and if they are not ready for this, to go home, I don't think the party should be tpk-ed or anything, but yeah, if they can't decide what to do when they are essentially tasked with killing the BBEG and diffusing the universe-shattering bomb, they should abdicate. I don't think a story in which the heroes fail is a bad one. I know Call of the Netherdeep has been a touchstone in the fandom throughout this campaign and there's one possible ending to that that's sort of unsatisfying, but the unsatisfying nature itself makes it an interesting story to me. I think this campaign ending with the party saying "we can't do this" is vanishingly unlikely, and complaints aside I think they will probably make a decision now but it all feels exceedingly doylist - Bells Hells are the characters the cast happens to be playing for this climactic final moment so I guess they will play those characters, and those characters will have to make a choice so that the final moment happens, but it doesn't feel terribly organic.

[rightpastnowhere]

TLOVM season 3 episode 3 thoughts from someone who's slowly losing her mind

PART ONE: campaign vex and perc'ahlia VS tlovm vex and perc'ahlia

(yeah. yeah it's part one. i have so many thoughts gang)

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

okay. so. i feel like i've made it clear how much i ADORE the perc'ahlia relationship timeline in campaign 1. and it remains to this day one of my absolute favorites, and i was very afraid of it being changed in tlovm. BUT. i'm actually kind of fucking obsessed with these changes.

because, really, campaign!vex and tlovm!vex are two entirely separate characters. they're still the same vex at their core, but the changes to the narrative in tlovm have changed the show version of vex in ways that i think are perfectly suited to the "i'm going to turn this into a fling even though we're both fooling ourselves" plotline. tlovm!vex seems overall more committed to the facade she puts out. she's a bit colder in the beginning, and has slowly thawed over the past two seasons, but not in the same way campaign!vex has by this point in the c1 plot, and like. on the one hand, it might just be a personality shift for the adaptation! something to make more clear-cut character archetypes. on the other hand, i keep remembering that vox machina haven't been a party for as long in tlovm. she's still questioning whether or not to stay with the party in season one. she doesn't have as strong of a foundation with these people, less trust and less comfort. she's got so many more walls built up.

and that, of course, includes her relationship with percy. campaign!perc'ahlia, in my eyes, is a friends to lovers slowburn. it's been mentioned that they hit it off well from the beginning, and while they both were attracted to each other to some degree, they both dismissed it as a bad idea and moved on. over the year of in-game time they spent together (maybe more? i get confused with the timeline) before we even see them on screen, they build up a steady and solid friendship. one filled with flirting and teasing, but still a friendship. and it's clear that they both value this connection they have, especially in the briarwood arc, with the mask and all of that loveliness. and sure, some of that could be read as romantic, but it's love all the same. vex loved percy before she was in love with him, and that dynamic is one she's terrified to lose! "wouldn't it be so awkward, though?" she says, as if she's already decided that all that confessing would do would be adding tension, that there's no chance of reciprocity.

in tlovm, though? it's barely been any time at all. she's fallen in love with percy in the same time it's taken to really be his friend, to find that she can trust him and rely on him. the weight of their history isn't nearly as bulky, here. sure, she won't dare risk any revelations of her feelings or any attempts at a serious relationship, but sex doesn't have to mean anything. if it makes things awkward then, well, they're still settling into their dynamic as friends anyway - things can be shuffled around and fall into different places. there's nothing solid yet to risk, if that makes sense. they're still building a foundation, she can build around the cracks.

and another significant point of divergence: syldor. i have a lot of thoughts on the feywild arc and the changes made, but i'm going to disregard all of that now because they're, same as vex, basically different characters. to put it simply: tlovm!syldor is harsh and gives bad attention, whereas campaign!syldor is neglectful and doesn't give enough attention. as a result, we see that tlovm!vex seeks out good attention, whereas campaign!vex avoids getting close enough to anyone for them to pull the rug out from underneath her. tlovm!vex initiates a fling, a dynamic of gratification and positive attention without emotional weight, because actually being in a relationship can result in that trust being used against you. she trusted in her father, and he used being her father as a way to beat her down. campaign!vex doesn't even try to initiate anything, because she fears the silence, the lack of reciprocity and care, the fear of being turned down. she tried to build a connection with her father, and was met with silence and quiet disapproval and barely even a second glance. i don't know if this makes any sense, and i'm bad at words, but these feel like different fears of rejection to me? and yet they're both fears of rejection, something that is at the core of vex's actions and personality in both adaptations.

two different stories of a person driven by fear, and i love them for their differences!! they both feel more fitting for their versions of canon!!! and both make me insane!!!!!!!!

[whenmemorydies]

Ancestors and The Bear

Phew, the discourse in season 3 of The Bear on legacy was STUNNING to me. This post by @gingergofastboatsmojito and episodes 3x01 Tomorrow and 3x07 Legacy have been sitting on my heart since I finished my binge of the show. Some thoughts under the cut. (I say "some" but this is another long ass post, soz).

If seasons 1 and 2 of The Bear went into the impact of our birth families on each of us, season 3 shifted pretty squarely to talking about the impact of our professional mentors on our lives. I've described those mentors as culinary ancestors, which as a concept I get into below. I loved this aspect of this season and the show generally. It is so rich and I feel like I'm only going to scratch the surface of it here. Keen to hear others' thoughts on this too.

Legacy and Ancestry

In 3x07 Legacy, Carmy talks to Marcus about the idea of legacy in the context of chefs he had worked with - how those chefs had talked to him about how their work would carry on through iterations and generations of subsequent chefs and restaurants that came after them. I'll include both a transcript and screenshots of this conversation below:

Carmy: Like, um, something would start somewhere, and then, uh, people would take that thing and then they would take it somewhere else. So, all these parts of an original restaurant, they would end up at a new restaurant and that kind of thing. That would happen over and over again. And then all these parts of all these restaurants, they would sort of-- You know, they would find each other. And then new people would take those parts and they would put 'em into their restaurant. And the whole thing, it would, um-- It would start to happen all over again.

Marcus: So, like a family tree or something?

Carmy: [looks to Syd who has her back to him, closing her locker] Yeah. Yeah, exactly.

Most folks understand ancestry to refer to our family or genetic lineage. When I was in university, I learned about intellectual ancestors or genealogy: where one can trace your intellectual lineage - the thinkers and creators that have shaped your understanding of the world and/or your chosen profession. I think its useful to take this concept and apply it to The Bear to help understand what the show is saying about legacy. I wouldn't limit the concept to "intellectual" ancestry though. It might be more helpful to talk about culinary ancestors in this context because the process of creating food - crafting dishes - isn't solely an intellectual exercise. It engages our intellect yes, but also each of our senses, our memories (recall that chocolate banana from 2x10 The Bear), and the need to nurture and be nurtured.

Culinary Ancestors

Carmy's culinary ancestors are varied given his work history. We know he's cooked under some of the best chefs in the culinary world of The Bear, including: Daniel Boulud (of Daniel), René Redzepi (of NOMA), Thomas Keller (of The French Laundry), David Field (a sociopathic Joel McHale, of Eleven Madison Park), and Andrea Terry (a sublime Olivia Colman, of Ever). I'd also include here Mikey, Donna and Natalie Berzatto. I'd include cousins Richie Jeremovich and Michelle Berzatto as well. These are the home and line cooks Carm grew up with, watched in his mother's kitchen and at The Beef. He took his lessons - the good and the bad, learnt voluntarily and involuntarily - from all of these people, incorporated them into his working self and transmuted them into his food.

In particular, I've talked here about Chef Terry and the valuable lesson of "every second counts" that she carried with her as she mentored waves of chefs through her restaurant, Ever. That post also talks about the parallels between Terry and Syd (which were even more evident in season 3), the latter of whom I'd argue is also one of Carmy's culinary ancestors ("you make me better at this").

I wish we had more information about Sydney and her influences. We know that prior to The Beef, she worked at restaurants Smoque BBQ, Alinea and Avec. We meet at least one of her mentors, Chicago restauranteur Donnie Madia in 2x03 Sundae and 2x10 The Bear, as well as Nayia at the fictional Verdana French Bistro (which ends up closing by 2x09 Omelette). They each offer up small insights into Sydney: that her food is amazing and that she is always "trying to be the best." Carmy is also undoubtedly one of Sydney's culinary ancestors, as infuriating and withholding as he can be. I'm also certain that Sydney's parents and the cultural history/ies that she's inherited through them are part of her culinary lineage as well. I really, really hope that we get much more insight into this side of her next season.

Respect, mentorship and lineage

One of the things that first drew me to The Bear was the respect that the show gave its characters of colour. In particular, the opportunity and support given to people of colour from a working class operation like The Beef to continue into the fine dining world of The Bear. I've spoken a bit about this here.

I haven't seen a dynamic on television before, where folks from the backgrounds like the POC characters in The Bear are from, are backed in the way they are on the show. Where there are mentors who will invest in them to train them up, and who will take those folks with them as they move into more elite and skilled spaces. Hell, I have barely seen this happen in the roughly two decades that I've been in wage-earning employment myself. Lets be clear, capitalism does not incentivise this kind of shit. Its why certain industries, including the world of fine dining, remain largely if not completely exclusive, demarcated by gender, race and class.

Yes this season was fucked in terms of which characters were getting prioritised for screen time over key Black characters like Sydney and Marcus (the Faks can genuinely go fuck). The lack of care given to Marcus, in particular, whose mother's passing was treated almost perfunctorily in comparison to a wholly unnecessary conversation amongst the entire crew about Cl@ire in 3x02 Next (quoting Richie: "who cares?!"), was also fucked. I would have preferred to have spent more time with Syd, Marcus, Tina, Ebraheim, Sweeps, Manny and Angel than listening to Neil, Ted and fucking Sammy (?!) Fak blather their way through precious minutes during this show.

But even with the above, The Bear regularly manages to floor me with beautiful moments of mentorship, leadership and love featuring characters of colour on the show. This is particularly the case in the relationships between culinary ancestors Carm and Sydney with "descendants" Marcus and Tina.

Birth of the The Bear lineage

Recall 1x08 Braciole where Sydney tells Marcus that after she finished culinary school, she spent all her money eating her way through New York. She says that she had the best meal she's ever eaten while she was there. With Marcus' gentle prodding, we find out that the person who created that meal, was Carmy.

Its not until the first episode of season 3 when we see how this actually played out, for both Carmy and Syd. I won't rehash the details of this scene because it is truly beautiful filmmaking to behold. Please if you haven't already, go watch 3x01 in its entirety. Have tissues nearby.

I will say, that in the best meal Syd ever had, Carmy literally served up his heart and lifeblood (check the cut of the fish, the crimson of the blood orange decoction).

That meal - that seed of inspiration from Carmy - birthed something in Sydney, something that would push her to find Carmy much later, working at his brother's sandwich shop.

Together these two incredibly talented chefs started their own lineage, taking what they knew and investing it into The Beef and eventually, The Bear:

And then, the next generation of collaboration and inspiration emerges:

This is why the visuals in 3x01 Tomorrow, with Syd sitting in quiet contemplation of Carm's dish, are so poignant. From 1x01 System, Carm and Syd have been growing their branch of their shared culinary family tree, nurturing it alongside those of their respective ancestors:

In 3x01 Tomorrow, we see that tree literally emerging from the moment Sydney meets Carm, on a plate.

It all starts when Sydney leaves culinary school and decides to make the most of her time in New York, eating at every place she could think of including, at Eleven Madison Park. And when Carmen, after losing Mikey, decides to make a few seconds count, taking ownership of a dish that he knows is going to be stolen from him and bastardized otherwise. The rest is history, or legacy.

Author's note:

I just wanted to draw attention to the fact that this show is also an exercise of mentorship and collaboration: Ayo Edebiri directing 3x06 Napkins under the guidance of Calo and Storer. Ramy Youssef directing 2x04 Honeydew under the guidance of Storer who had previously directed him on and produced Ramy. The fucking force of nature that is veteran Liza Colón Zayas being directed by Ayo. Jeremy describing the filming of 2x06 Fishes as akin to watching masters at work. Of course any television production is a collaborative effort and there are countless names I'm not familiar with who have put their precious time and energy into making this beautiful thing. I just thought it worth mentioning that at times, this show glimmers with truths, and I think thats because, in some way, they're in the marrow of the thing.

[xray-vex]

Thinking about this and how there are certain people claiming to be fans of OFMD who complain, rather loudly and repeatedly, there is no chemistry between Ed & Stede, and/or that their kisses had no passion, etc.

This leads me to believe that there are several possible explanations for how those people might have reached that conclusion:

1.) The people complaining have a hard time reading body language/facial expressions, so they literally can't perceive it

2.) The people complaining hate the main ship: they don't like Ed and/or Stede and/or their relationship, or the fact that their head canons for the show didn't become canon and are still upset about it, and are therefore in denial about the chemistry between Ed and Stede and refuse to see it.

3.) They are somehow from an alternate universe that has overlapped a little bit with the one most of us are in, and they literally didn't watch the same show because they watched the OFMD from their universe, not ours.

In all of the above cases, though -- the people who insist that Ed & Stede had no chemistry are just wrong. It's not really an opinion. So, based on these ideas, either:

1.) They're drawing an incorrect conclusion based on their inability to interpret body language (***and there no shame in that in & of itself, not everyone has that skill set) -- However, not being able to perceive something doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Humans can't perceive ultraviolet or infrared light naturally, either. Those things still exist even if you can't see em.

2.) They're choosing to draw their conclusions based on their dislike of/disappointment in the show, and therefore willfully ignoring the evidence presented in the text (the show itself). -- If you want to argue a point and be taken seriously though, you have to provide adequate evidence. And their various arguments just aren't convincing. (I could expand upon how it's also much more difficult to prove that something doesn't exist, but I've already written way more than I intended to for what was gonna just be a short rant).

3.) If they literally watched a different, alternate universe version of OFMD, then they're not gonna convince anyone in this universe that 1+1=3 like it does in their universe. Maybe that's correct math in their universe, but that's not how it works here.

Here's the thing -- and I'm gonna use a simple example here. You can say that you don't like cilantro. You can hate it, you can be disgusted by it, especially considering that it might taste like soap to you. And that's ok! But you don't get to make the claim that it doesn't enhance the flavor of other foods/dishes in a positive way or that many people think it's yummy.

So take this simple advice, would you? You can just say "This isn't for me" and just not eat it. You don't get to say "This is bad and I'm going to keep pushing my thoughts about it onto people who do enjoy it, even while they're eating it, because I need to convince everyone to hate it too." That's not an opinion, that's just being a fucking dick. Go join your local chapter of the Cilantro Hater's Club and complain about it there with other like-minded people, and let the rest of us enjoy our cilantro in fuckin peace. And don't be surprised if we shut the door in your face (muting/blocking) when we're sick of hearing how much you hate something we love.

[ckret2]

Wait okay in The Book of Bill, Bill’s putting in all these pages himself while he’s in the theraprism, right? So… how could he have gotten his hands on the lost journal pages in there? I’ve seen people point out certain inconsistencies in them (Ford being drawn with a hair streak even though it’s supposed to take place earlier, etc.) What are your thoughts?

My theory is that either somehow he got his hands on the pages before his incarceration and stowed them in TBOB; or TBOB itself, being a magical book that can regenerate & "corrupt" other books & teleport around when you aren't looking, got hold of the journal and ripped the pages out itself.

I've seen all the "but Ford's drawn wrong" "but Ford never does Bill's handwriting like that" "but why weren't these pages present in the J3 we read after it was magically fully repaired" "but Ford was supposed to meet Bill in J2" chatter suggesting that maybe the pages aren't legit, and honestly? I think the explanation for all of these issues is "Alex last worked on J3 like eight years before TBOB and he & the artists were more concerned with beefing up Ford's relationships with Bill and Fiddleford than they were with little details like that." This is a situation where the doylist explanation is much simpler and a lot more likely than a watsonian complicated forgery scheme.

So that's my serious "what I think happened in canon" explanation for all that.

Separately, my own headcanon:

Personally I've theorized for ages that the journals weren't written chronologically (because if Ford fully filled J1 and J2 before starting J3, why did he just so happen to have blank two-page spreads in J1 & J2 on which he could write the portal blueprints, and why did Stan find SOME portal instructions in J1?), so my own headcanon is that the J3 we've read is indeed complete with all pages, and these pages are actually taken out of Journal 2. There might even be a few pages out of J1. Bill advertised them as "missing Journal 3 pages" because he knew The Reader Of TBOB is a GF fan who has more of an emotional connection to J3 than 1 and 2. The idea that he was filling the journals non-chronologically explains why these pages also cover events that happened during J3; which journal Ford was writing in on any day randomly bounced between journals.

This isn't an "I think this might have been the authorial intent" headcanon, this is an "I think the author accidentally introduced some inconsistencies so this is how I'm privately justifying them" headcanon.