#idk where this came from but here you go

[kroas-adtam]

Secondo x Alpha thoughts?

Oh gods do I

It’s such a fight for power between the two, but that’s part of the fun. Alpha loves the power play between them. He can fight and gnash his teeth, he can snap and swear at the human, spew swear words you could only dream of, but when Secondo commands him, demands him, that’s when the world blurs away and he’s on his knees, hot mouth buried between Secondo’s legs. Secondo is uninterested (or so he says) but when Alpha is hidden under his desk, long tongue buried deep in his cunt and stuck, nose pressed firmly against his cock- he’s anything but uninterested. He forces himself to stay relaxed, forces himself not to squeeze and grind on Alpha’s face. He forces himself to be uninterested as he continues his paperwork with shivering hands and sweating nape. Alpha will get frustrated eventually, jaw aching, cheeks slick with sweat and Secondo, eventually he’ll get to work, doing all the dirty work as Secondo forgets how to sign his own name on the paperwork in front of him.

[gothgril69]

Levi Ackerman x Reader

MDNI (18+)

cw: smut (nothing crazy)

word count: 1k

Can't stop thinking about Bull Rider!Levi

He's not at all what you expected when Erwin invited you to watch the rodeo that night, giving you that charming smile as he looks down at you. You were hesitant at first, not usually one to go to your small town's fairs and events, but goddamn that bright smile under that tan cowboy hat had your heart skipping a beat.

He was riding that night, a young bull full of fight that easily launches him off his back in under the eight seconds he's trying to reach. You grimace when his back hits the ground hard, but Erwin is fast enough to get out of the way with a wide smile on his face and a skip in his step as the others wrangle the bull back in it's pen. He catches your eye and you give him a wave.

What you weren't expecting next was the smaller man that came out after Erwin, jet black hair peeking out from under his black cowboy hat. Levi Ackerman, the announcer speaks loud over the intercom, the rodeo's record holder and the only one to reach those eight seconds.

Your interest is piqued immediately, and you lean on the metal bar separating you from the ring. He's handsome, incredibly so, and you forget about Erwin and any of the other striking blond men you've seen today and focus on Levi settling himself on top of the bull. You watch his hands from a distance, watch as one wraps around the rope secured to the bull underneath him and let your imagination run wild.

The gates are released with a loud bang when the metal hits the barrier as Levi holds himself upright on top of the bucking bull. Your lips part in surprise as you watch how effortlessly he seems to do it, the way his hips move in time with the bull's movement to make sure he remains steady on top. He has his free hand on top of his hat, making sure it doesn't fall off in the process.

Those eight seconds are up quick, and it seems as if Levi could ride that bull for even longer as he hops off and quickly backs away from it as the others wrangle it in again. The crowd is going wild, cheering and yelling his name all while you stand there in surprise and clap along. He looks around the crowd, waving and nodding with an indifferent expression across his face as he circles the ring to give crowd members high-fives or autographs.

He stops in front of you at the end of his rounds, and then he's smirking while he removes his cowboy hat to place it on top of your head. You lick your lips and smile at him, unashamedly raking your eyes over the way his black collared shirt hugs his body tight while it's tucked into his jeans. He rakes a hand through his mussed hair, and then he's walking off to the other men that have taken their turn.

Erwin comes up to you when the show is over, parting through the crowd that shuffles themselves out of the metal fences surrounding the grounds. "Did you enjoy the show?" he asks you with that bright smile of his, gesturing for you to follow him.

You fall into step with him. "Yeah," you honestly reply. "It was a lot of fun. You did great." You smile up at him.

He laughs. "Ah, thanks darling, but I think someone may have caught your attention a bit more than me." He pats your head over your new cowboy hat.

You shove his arm. "Don't say that," you laugh. "I've just never seen anyone actually ride for the eight seconds."

The two of you walk together until Erwin is introducing you to all the guys, including Levi. He seems to understand that your attention has been captured by someone else, and you both respectfully part ways for the night as he leaves you alone with Levi.

"You can take your hat back," you offer to him, taking off the hat to hold it out for him.

"I think it looks better on you," he tells you with his hands tucked into his pockets, leaning against the back of his pickup truck he's walked you to. He stands with so much confidence it makes you feel flustered as he starts to walk toward you. "Let me help you with that." He takes the hat from your hands and places it on top of your head, adjusting it while you stare at him. "Better."

“You wanna get out of here?" you breathe.

—

Levi takes you hard and slow, fucking you deep into the mattress with every perfect roll of his hips against yours.

You barely made it inside his ranch home before he was slamming your back against his front door, his lips colliding with yours in equal fervor. Clothes were shed almost immediately, cowboy hat forgotten, and his hands glided across every surface of your skin to touch more and more of you like he couldn't get enough.

Now your back is pressed into his mattress, his body pressed close to yours with a sheen of sweat over your skin as he thrusts into you. “Fuck, your pussy is so good,” he groans into your neck, lips brushing against your pulse point.

“Levi,” you mewl, your arms holding onto his biceps as he takes you deeper. You arch your back into him, feeling every ounce of pleasure he has to give, and he slips an arm under your back to hold you close.

“Give me another one,” he gasps and lifts his head to look down at you. “Come on, love, you can do it.” He picks up his pace, thrusting hard and faster into you as his hand dips down to circle fingers against your clit.

Your eyes roll back when you cum, squeezing and pulsing around him to the point where he meets his end at the same time. His hot cum spurts inside you, his cock throbbing as his thrusts slow while he presses himself as far as he can go in you. His head falls forward until his forehead is resting against your sternum, heavy breaths panting against your skin as you do the same with your eyes closed.

“Stay the night,” Levi mumbles against your skin, leaving small kisses until he looks up at you again.

You open your eyes and nod dumbly.

[ninetyminutes]

“The collective suspicions of those at NBC toward Saturday Night seemed to manifest themselves at the stanchions of the security guards in the lobby of 30 Rockefeller Plaza, which became a psychic and sometimes physical battleground between the network and the show. The guards were instantly suspicious of anyone who looked and acted as strange as the Saturday Night crowd did, while people from the show saw the guards as corporate henchmen, petty authority figures to be abused or ignored. Thus the guards failed somehow to recognize members of the Saturday Night staff far longer than they might have, inevitably requiring that they display their passes each time they approached the elevator banks. This was taken by many of those on the show as harassment, and some refused to comply.”

What if there was one time where the security guards don’t let Lorne through? What if Lorne started arguing with them like we see in the movie but Dick Ebersol isn’t there to rescue him?

Maybe one day the security guards look at his ID and yet still won’t let him pass, making rude and totally inappropriate comments about how no one would ever let someone who looks like him/was as young as him be an executive producer for a show.

Eugene Lee, a writer on SNL, had an incident with the guards that resulted in him getting stitches.

“Eugene Lee made the mistake of pushing a guard one day, causing him to trip and fall. The guard got up and hit Lee in the face, knocking him cold for a minute or two. He was wearing glasses at the time and blood from his cuts speckled the lobby. A Rockefeller Center nurse was summoned and Lee was taken away in a wheelchair to be stitched up at the nearest hospital.”

So what if Lorne asks that he be able to make a phone call to Dick or one of the other executives. The security guards won’t let him but he’s just like “come on, it’s one phone call” and he reaches over to the podium to grab a phone only to get absolutely bodied by one of the guards. Maybe he gets hurt or even knocked out. Or what if they have him detained or call the cops on him. There’s a lot of possibilities here.

[desolateyears]

have we talked about burn out student Eddie?? (cw: brief mention of alcohol abuse, ED's, drug use)

wc:782

oh yeah dude. kid was a straight a student, honor roll, did safety patrol, was on student council, and everything. his English was his best subject, reading level of a 6th graders when he was in 2nd grade. had amazing attendance. loads of friends. loved school, really really enjoyed learning.

then his mom died. and his dad, well. yeah he died, too, in a way.

his dad stopped caring about things like reading logs and report cards. only cared about having cold beer and if Eddie was around. his dad missed him so much when he was gone, was one of the only things that made his dad ever feel better. and yeah, Eddie was too young to know that it wasn't normal for your dad to need you around. to literally not be able to function without him.

so he started staying home. school days flew by but it was fine because his dad approved. he loved his dad, his dad was his best friend, right after his mom, so of course he wanted to stay home. he was sad and he felt like the only other person who could understand that was his father.

teachers don't get it. his friends don't get it. no one understands him. so he still does alright in school but he's distracted. gets his card pulled to red more often than not for talking too much to the kids in the desks next to him. or for being too focused, on a book, on doodling, something that wasn't part of the curriculum. he starts getting these cards that sort of grade his behavior. and he has to get them signed every single night by his dad.

his dad doesn't care either way. stopped caring a few years ago about things like that. and his drinking gets worse.

so now he doesn't really feel like a best friend to Eddie anymore. he feels like another person that doesn't get Eddie. he scares Eddie honestly. locks himself in his room and holds his breath, praying to God his dad's booming footsteps don't creep closer to his door in the night. just politely stays out of his way when he's at home.

which is almost all the time now. no more binging tv shows together. going to the gas station so Eddie can get a treat and his dad can get another 24-pack. no more talking about things that matter to Eddie anymore.

he doesn't wanna be at home, but he doesn't wanna be at school. so he starts ditching. hiding beneath bleachers. hiding himself in the boys locker room.

doing the bare minimum to get by in school. and he can feel the judgement rolling off of his teachers, it almost makes him sick. what were once straight A+'s have turned into straight D's. all of his potential has spun straight down the toilet.

right about where his lunch starts ending up. he's too sick to eat most days. gets stuck in bed more often than not.

he hits high school and it hits right back.

teachers fucking hate him and most of the student body does too. no one gets surprised by his fuck ups anymore.

and it fucking digs a hole so deep inside of him where passion once bloomed and now pitch black depression eats at it. the only thing that gets him by is getting high now.

he gets high with other burn out kids whose parents don't know what to do with them anymore. sometimes when Eddie parties, he'll talk about old passions and the stuff he was good at. laugh about this old anecdote, this old friend, this great teacher he had, about his dad. his mom.

and he really is fine talking about it until the next morning. and the next morning he fucking feels soul punched because he just wants to feel good at something again. agonizes over the wasted potential and wasted time doing stupid shit instead of keeping his head down and putting in the work. missed his mom and his dad. knows that he could do all of these amazing things if someone gave him a chance. but he dug his fucking grave.

it's way too late now.

he didn't graduate. missed his SATs, ACTs, all these stupid fucking tests. doesn't have the support system you need to get into college. doesn't have money at all. he's stuck working stupid jobs that make him want to evaporate.

way, way too fucking late.

[ineffable-suffering]

"Good evening Demons and Damned and welcome to the Late Night News brought to you by the Infernal Broadcasting Company. We're interrupting today's usual program, as we've just been told that there's an active civilian hostage situation going down on one of the inhabited planets –– where is it again, Janice? Right, right, thank you, Janice –– on planet Earth, as we're being told. We're gonna switch to our correspondent A. J. Crowley who is live at the location of the demonic ambush right now –– Anthony, can you hear us? What's the situation?"

[sixpennydame]

“What the actual fuck, y/n.”

You’d never heard Levi sound so angry. Almost disgusted.

“I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. It’s apparent what’s happened here.”

Enraged, Levi barges through the room, inspecting every corner. “You really didn’t think I’d notice? You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

You follow him as he continues his tirade. “I’m sorry. It’s doesn’t mean anything…”

At that, he turns, his brow furrowed.

“Am I not good enough for you?”

“No! You are!” you argue. “It’s just —“

“Then why the hell would you hire a house cleaner??”

You should have known he’d notice.

“We’ve just been so busy lately, and I thought you’d appreciate the help. You know I’m terrible at cleaning.”

“That’s true. You really are shit at it. And I guess I have been busy lately.” With a sigh Levi moves toward you. He grabs your waist and pulls you against him, your arms immediately going around his neck. “But don’t do that again, unless you really want to piss me off.”

You gently kiss his lips and then pull back with a smirk. “I don’t know, I kinda like it when you get riled up.”

“Don’t push your luck..” He returns your kiss with another.

“Umm…excuse me…”

A voice in the corner breaks the two of you from your intimate moment.

“Should I keep cleaning this room, or…” the housecleaner asks.

Silvery blue eyes flash at the little old lady, who stands with broom in hand.

“You’re dismissed,” he says. “And shut the door behind you.”

[arminsumi]

just absolutely love dumb, nervous wreck, antsy-pants satoru who cannot chill around you. he has to go to suguru for reassurance that his hair looks good, that his breath smells good, that his outfit isn't lame, etc. this earns him a snicker from his best friend, and a pat on the back, and a "satoru. you're good. stop overthinking. you're just saying hello."

but just saying hello takes all his composure. the stars have to be aligned. when he reaches you, he's a stuttering dorky awkward nonsensical chaotic MESS of a person.

"hey! hi. hello. how are you? YEAH. i'm... good. haha. yes. ok. well... i've gotta goooooooo......."

and he leaves because his heart is panging so hard it feels like he's about to have a heart attack. that's just how you got him. and you have no idea. you're just happily going about your life while this poor boy is falling to pieces for you.

he's so love dumb that he can't focus on studying for too long, thoughts always leading back to you.

oh god you complimented him? he will remember that compliment for YEARS.

[dunmer-dovahkiin]

if TES6 ever comes out I hope they introduce the fame/infamy system again

in skyrim I found it so annoying that when you literally just started some questlines, people across the country mentioned it to you, and equally, when you are level 50 mega boss, saved the world, ended the war, became head of every guild, are thane of every hold, own an insane amout of realestate and wear a boss babe outfit thay costs more than all of dawnstar, and some rando guard still calls you a milkdrinker

[redwitchrune]

something about comfort, blue and orange, and new perspectives

[accursedvoid]

[harvestmoth]

okay last one. au where nothing goes wrong at all ever (a lie) and melia venam gay moment

[musical-chick-13]

I hate when something looks like it would be RIGHT up your alley and the cast is pretty stacked, but there's one person in said cast who is just. Genuinely a horrible human being.

[sugaroto]

Ok you know what's kinda funny about "Jackson's Diary", or rather "plot twist-y"?

So, ok, imma be honest, when I started the comic I thought it was bl or lgbt or something. Be it the art or the description or the fact that everything I read is gay, I thought this was some kind of enemies to lovers/as magic stuff is going on around the school or something

I really thought the 2 mains were gonna end up together

And I wasn't the only one who thought that cause a lot of the comments were talking about it

But no. Soon you realize they're all very straight, exer is still in love with his ex girlfriend and Jackson kinda gets in a love triangle with exer's ex and the girl exer bullied last year. Also it's set in like- the 80s? Soo. They probably don't know what gay is. (Or they ignore it yknow)

But....

"Wasn't David bi in the canvas version?" said the comments "Yeah he was I think he liked Exer"

So then I'm trying to figure out if he's bi, and some chapters later he's literally making heart eyes around exer but like, in the background

And he's not that important at the time so I'm like oh ok great he's the comedic relief stereotypical gay character?

And exer is like... straight and in love with David's twin sister so nothing will happen right?

Jokes on me

Like 100 chapters later and this is Exer's reaction to David saying they're friends

The gay panic

Had me fooled there honestly

Also ok, I know my post is focused around the gay romance here, but like the comic is really interesting I do recommend it

Jackson goes to a new school and he is the only one who can see some kind of "green magic" messing around with his daily life

Shit happens, he makes friends, he gets into love triangles as I mentioned before (not for that long, thankfully) he gets into fights and makes new friends again

The characters are all very interesting, I was gonna say nice, but then realized half of them are assholes, currently it seems like they're trying to be better people tho

And even though it's set in the 80s it seems most of the main characters were accepting of the lgbt ones (well ok so far 2 people know about it so yknow, ) the only assholes were some bullies literally called Rick and Marty who used gay as a slur or something like 50 chapters ago

Well, and I can't really say anything much without spoiling more, I've already talked enough about their sexualities I'm not telling you what's happening with the green stuff

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Fuck fuck fuck low self-esteem has ruined my life.

[saturdaynightghostclub]

hey toady i love ur brainnn can i maybe ask for a lil donnie angst perhaps something to do w him being on the road 🫣 you’re an incredible writer btw :)

Drivin’ on 9

Come back, just fucking come back.

You couldn’t just get a job as a Sears photographer, could you?

They need you, fuck, I need you, just pleasefuckingcomehome.

You’re trying hard to curb the bitterness of your inner monologue. It’s not Donnie’s fault he’s all over the country, and usually it’s alright. You miss him, sure, but you know he loves you, know each night that he’s wishing just as hard as you are that he was back in Chicago with you. Usually. But usually his mother and oldest sister aren’t perched anxiously on your couch, backs pin-straight, trying to pretend it’s okay that you were the only one home when they arrived.

“I’m sorry,” you say, addressing Mrs. MacClain, “really, he should be home any minute. Usually he calls me from the airport to let me know he’s on his way, I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.” You’ve already offered tea, wine, whatever the hell’s in your pantry, but the MacClain women are here on business. That one-track mind must be a genetic thing.

Mrs. MacClain (you really can’t get the hang of calling her Lisa) reaches across the coffee table and squeezes your hand. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she says, smiling through the strain in her voice, “I’m sorry I’m not better company, I’m a bit preoccupied.” She doesn’t want to say whatever it is she’s come to say until her son arrives. You understand. If it’s anything like what you’re suspecting, it would be tough news to break twice. Carrie swallows hard beside her mother. She hasn’t said a word all night. For all that Donnie’s family loves you, there are certain things they need to deal with among themselves; you imagine that’s why Jack and the girls aren’t present. As for Eliza and Mr. MacClain, you’ve got no idea. Your throat itches with unasked questions and your fingers twitch uselessly in your lap, wanting to do something, anything, to help.

The minutes tick by achingly, and you remind yourself that you can’t actually be upset with your boyfriend. It’s something you used to have to tell yourself repeatedly in the early days of your relationship: it’s his job, it’s not about you, you’re not angry, you just miss him. It took a lot of reassuring back then, a frankly embarrassing amount, to have you fully convinced that this long-distance thing wasn’t going to break you. Eventually you started to recognize his attention for what it was: love. It took you a while to get there–to accept it, I mean. A man can tell you he loves you until he’s blue in the face, and you can believe him, but how do you know for sure? How do you know, until you really, really know?

For you, the “I know” came at possibly the most inopportune moment it could have. It was the height of that first baseball season after you moved in together, and things were good. You had your work, and he had his; he’d fuck off to Cleveland, or Detroit, or Milwaukee, or whatever city on Earth the Cubs were losing to that week, and when he came home he’d hold you just tightly enough to make it all okay again, rinse and repeat week after week. You knew it was hard; you always assumed it was harder for you than it was for him. This was his life, and sometimes you didn’t fit, but it was alright. He loved you enough to make space for you. You never considered that he would be struggling just as much as you were (something you feel guilty for to this day). So it came as something of a shock when you arrived home from a rare trip to the office to find Donnie slumped over the kitchen table with his head in his hands and a half-drained beer growing warm and flat before him.

“What the fuck are we doing?” He’d asked without raising his head. He’d sounded so miserable. It caught you off-guard, having known him as a man of two temperaments: optimistic and optimistic-but-kind-of-tired. You’d tried to play dumb, asking what he meant, but he had you. “Baby,” he groaned, lifting his head with Herculean effort, “don’t pretend, okay? We both know this sucks, and we’re both acting like it doesn’t,” and then, heartbreakingly soft, “do you need me like I need you?”

Do you need me like I need you?

You did. Obviously. You do.

That was the first time you’d ever seen Donnie cry. Exhausted and heat-weary and worn to the end of his rope, he’d collapsed on the table, planning ostensibly to stay there. That was when you really, really knew. You knew that you were in this for the long-haul, for the good and the bad, and that you would do anything in your power, as long as you lived, to keep him off that goddamn table and in your life. And when you had coaxed him into a sitting position, when you were sure he was going to be okay, you said the thing you needed to say, even though you knew it would break him cleanly in two: “Fuck. You love me.”

“I–yeah,” he stammered, his face flickering indescribably between confusion and hurt, “I love you, I–you know that, don’t you? Oh god, don’t you know that?” He was terrified, you could see it plainly on his face. Had he not done enough, not tried as hard as he should have? Should he have done things differently, should he have been different?

And what on Earth were you supposed to say to that? I knew you wanted me, but I never realized you needed me. I knew you loved me, just not as much as you loved your job. Not as much as I love you. I knew, but I had no idea. So what you said instead was “I guess I didn’t realize…that we were on the same page about this.”

At that, Donnie had pulled you roughly onto his lap, each breath shaking like it might be his last, and held you fast, swallowing sobs to promise you over and over that things were going to change, that he was sorry, that he loved you desperately and frighteningly and truly.

To his credit, things did change. That was both the worst night of your entire relationship and the one that you absolutely couldn’t imagine your life without; what the hell would have happened to the two of you if it hadn’t been for that night? Your resolution was to stop pretending everything was fine and that it didn’t absolutely blow to be apart more often than not. An absolute, no-holds-barred, total bitchfest whenever the situation called for it, plus tagging along on the occasional trip whenever work could spare you. You kick yourself, wishing you could have seen this one coming.

The sound of Donnie’s key in the lock makes you jump. You clamber to your feet to meet him at the door, noting gravely that Lisa and Carrie make no move to join you.

“Hello, my love,” Donnie grins, moving to kiss you before he sees the look on your face. His hands go to your shoulders, slide down your arms, circle your wrists–you wonder if he’s even aware that he seems to be checking you for injuries. He looks you over, eyes landing hard on your own. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t know what else to say but “Your mom and Carrie are here.”

Donnie pulls you into a brief hug, squeezing you once before he passes you to sit in the chair you yourself occupied only seconds before. He looks at you from his seat, a silent plea to stay, but you shake your head. This is family business. You busy yourself for a moment with leftover breakfast plates, letting them crash against each other in the sink to drown out Mrs. MacClain’s hushed voice. Eventually, you drift off to the bedroom and sit on your bed fully clothed, wondering what proper etiquette would suggest you do.

It takes about an hour. The front door opens, then shuts, then Donnie enters your room. His eyes are red-rimmed and hopelessly lost.

“I, um…” he starts, shrugging around a deep, shuddering breath, “I was in Philly.”

“I know,” you say gently, moving to stand before him. He tugs you closer by the waist, eyes sailing over the top of your head before coming to rest on your face.

“No, I mean. I mean I was in Philly when he,” deep breath, “my dad had a heart attack.”

Alright, you need to play this one right. You nod slowly, gently. “And?”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Donnie murmurs vacantly, like that’s not even the important part, “but I was in Philly when it happened.”

You think you see what’s going on. “You being in Philadelphia has nothing to do with your dad’s heart attack,” you say, “these things are completely random, I mean–no, they’re not, but they almost are.” You’re rambling now. You’ve never been very good at comforting people when they’re upset. “What I mean is that there’s nothing you could have done differently that would have changed anything.”

“Okay, but that’s not true, is it?” Donnie asks. His words are the start of an argument, but his tone is one of complete despair. He runs a hand up and down your back in apology. “I’m sorry. If I were home, I could have been here when he–when he went in. I could have been there when he woke up. And what if he never woke up? He could have–,” he chokes, leaving the rest of his words unsaid. He could have died, and I would have been in Philadelphia.

There’s nothing you can say right now that will calm him down, so instead you wrap your arms around his neck and press your body against his, letting him hold you as tightly as he needs to. “I’ll drive,” you say, pulling carefully away, “it’ll be good for him to see you.”

You don’t need to elaborate, Donnie knows what you mean. Knows what you’re doing for him. He nods. Then he kisses you. When he pulls back, your skin is cold where his tears have touched it.

Maybe you’ll have to talk him out of quitting his job tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have to make a casserole and bring it to his mother. Maybe all you’ll be able to do is love him. In any case, there’s one thing you know: there will be no compromise. He’ll keep the job, he’ll keep his girl, and he’ll keep his family–there’s no other way for him to be.

[aeonfought]

"  have  you  ever  hated  me?  "  it's  a  question  that  seemingly  came  out  of  nowhere,  yet  it  was  a  question  that  has  been  floating  around  in  her  mind.  ever  since  penacony.  ever  since  she  died  at  the  hands  of  the  meme  (  even  though,  in  a  sense,  it  was  a  real  death  ).  ever  since  she'd  revealed  her  true  identity  to  @astrxlfinale.

"  i  always  figured  that,  maybe  deep  down,  you  hated  me.  "  she  couldn't  bear  to  look  up  at  him,  to  see  his  reaction.  she  who  is  not  afraid  of  death,  was  now  more  than  terrified  to look at him, to  hear  his  reply.  what  if  he  truly,  really  did  despise  her  now?  the  one  who  she'd  considered  her  first  friend.  it's  a  terrifying  thought  that  she  didn't  wish  to  imagine.

"  i  —  i  ..  if  i  could've,  i  would've  told  you.  "  but  she  couldn't,  elio's  script  didn't  permit  her  to.