#without realizing that it directly supports her

[hahaharumi]

coming back on here in my school induced hiatus to crashout (once again) about llorumi and how almost everyone dismisses their relationship as abusive without looking deeper into it,, sure she’s certainly not the most mentally stable character and she has her own plethora of issues, and i’m not saying everyone has to love the ship!!!!! i just wish majority of the fandom didn’t outright hate on them as much as they do.

most don’t realize the gravity of the fact that she was very young with no support system to healthily recover from her parents’ death and no way of working through/understanding her emotions. she pushes everyone away-- you can see that w/ hutchins and maybe even the higher ranking s.o.g. members. she grew to resent the image of the ninja she had in her head, and throughout the series, she spirals and comes up with ways to keep that image consistent to herself, despite their actions (mainly lloyd’s) proving her totally wrong!! part of this is probably due to some envy towards lloyd, someone who has a family to run back to when things get tough. someone who gets praise while she gets forgotten. in conclusion; she really is like a jade--one of the hardest, toughest stones, formed in conditions of high pressure.

speaaaking of lloyd:: he has a raging savior complex. he's trusting to a fault, someone who sees the good and potential in everyone before all else. the harumi he knew was so delicate and nurturing, so different from the quiet one persona that he wrongfully assumes they can't coexist. we see this in crystallized as well as her appearance in prime empire, he tries to convince himself that the "good harumi" is the real one. he's been weaned on the idea of perfect villains and heroes, so when someone who's in the gray area comes his way, he hopes for the latter.

that's (parts of) their individual characters, but how do they work as a couple?? from the outside, it doesn't seem possible. one deceives while the other believes-- except not really. theyre not just their archetypes. harumi isn't just the vengeful bitch with a heart of stone who acts without reason. all she does is (subconciously) protect herself, a defense mechanism to keep her from realizing the fact that the ninja weren't at fault for her trauma. nobody directly wanted this-- and that is what scares her. lloyd isn't just the golden boy whose all-forgiving nature rivals that of Jesus Himself. like harumi, he can be a piece of shit to those who warrant it, and at one point, she really did.

their similarities, in not only their personalities but also lives, make them understand eachother-- which is ultimately what makes me love them so much. under all the anger and built-up hate is understanding. harumi understands what lloyd can take, and always stays there. lloyd understands the rough conditions in which her walls were built. they both have grown to know the parts of themselves they conceal from others, the ugly sides nobody else can see. for harumi, it's her soft side. for lloyd, it's the opposite. the side that's like his father.

tldr; theyre the perfect example of enemies AND lovers, a shining beacon of hope for the girls who feel like a liability, and also peak fiction. (plus i like how they, as a ship, really reflect one of the first morals of ninjago-- "the best way to defeat your enemy is to make them your friend.")

[doubly-dateable]

I will never forget the time I drove by an ultra- maga house (I’m in Texas) and in addition to all of the crazy ai generated pictures and bigotry, they had a bright green ‘kamala is brat” sign displayed front and center. it’s almost as if people like them are completely detached from the world around them and entirely unwilling to change that…

[demilypyro]

So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

[iamasaddie]

YOUNG, GREEN AND STUPID

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: after spending the night at Joel's your walk of shame is darkened with a hangover and anxiety. As you try to reconstruct the events of last night in your head, you realize that despite feeling uneasy, you can't say no to Joel. warnings: darkfic, manipulation, self-gaslighting, age gap [Joel is 61, don't read it and don't @ me about it if it's not your thing, just leave], switching POVs, explicit sexual content. Some tags are not added to avoid spoilers. reader description: afab she/her, has hair long enough to be pulled; has boobs and ass; reader mid to late 20s-30s. word count: 3,8k

a/n: thank you to the freaks who support me and this fic, i'm kissing y'all. i appreciate all the asks and comments and reblogs, they motivate the fuck out of me. giant thanks to the one and only @arcanefox207 , if not for her i'd smash my laptop against the wall. Ally you are my blessing of a beta and a friend <3 READ ON AO3

MASTERLIST | part 1 | part 3

The crushing weight of someone’s body around you made you feel trapped. Your back was covered in sweat, sleek where it pressed against your last night’s date. You wiggled, your head pounding in an unforgiving manner. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tried to fight the pain from the light punching you square in your face. 

With bleary eyes you took in your surroundings, at least as much as you could make out. The room welcomed you with dark pastel colors. It looked tidy, but stuck somewhere in the 80s. Dark blue walls were scarcely decorated by a painting of a lone cowboy in the middle of nowhere and a wooden plaque of the Texas state map. A shred of sunlight that bothered your pulsing eyes crept through the curtains that the house owner had forgotten to fully draw last night. You couldn’t make out the color as staring directly at the light made your headache worse. 

Hardwood wardrobe matched the bedframe and the table, and by the look of you realized that even the furniture in this house could be older than you. Simple cotton bed sheets soaked in your warmth, it felt overwhelming and too hot to enjoy, so you tried to get out of your date’s embrace. 

Without looking at him too much, you cautiously threw off the duvet cover, finding yourself fully naked underneath. You couldn’t remember when you undressed. The last thing you could dig out of your foggy mind was falling asleep on the man’s chest, with your dress still hugging your body. You dared to peek underneath, just to be met with your suspicion. Joel was as naked as you. 

Was there anything else you didn’t remember?

Anxiety started prickling at your heart, unease settling in. Gently, you grabbed the hand that was still laying heavy on your stomach and placed it on the bed. You held your breath, listening to the man next to you, but he didn’t budge. You slid out of bed, your bare feet met with a soft worn out rug. Before standing up, you give Joel one look over your shoulder. As if feeling your gaze, he shifted in his bed, turning to lay on his back. 

Your nakedness felt very apparent, and you brought your hands to cover your breasts, like someone could see you. You looked around, in search of your clothes, planning to find it on the floor or wherever else you could throw it in the state of bliss and inebriation. 

To your surprise, you found the skimpy outfit gently folded and placed on the table in the corner of the room, Joel’s clothes laying in a neat pile just next to yours. Something similar to a smile tugged at the corner of your lips, but you quickly regained your composure. The fact that your clothes were taken care of didn’t cancel the fact that you didn’t remember how you lost it in the first place.

You unfolded the dress, sighing over the walk of shame you were going to face. The material felt unpleasant against your skin that was still sticky with sweat and potentially some other fluids. 

Once you pulled the dress on, you finally dared to look at the man in the bed again. Somewhere between your attempts to remember the night and redressing, his tossing made the duvet slip lower, and now he was laying there in almost all his naked glory. A beam of sun that peeked through the heavy curtains tickled his weathered, tanned skin with its warmth. You couldn’t deny it, the man was gorgeous with or without alcohol in your system. Him laying on his back let you see his face more clearly: it was ridden of any emotion, peaceful dream ironing the deepest of his wrinkles. His broad chest that was sprinkled with freckles and sun spots kept raising and falling slowly. One of his hands was resting on his lower belly, hiding a patch of almost fully gray happy trail from you. 

Your eyes slid lower, tracing the same pattern your tongue did less than twelve hours ago, if your foggy memories were correct. His cock laid soft against his hairy upper thigh, no less intimidating in girth, though shorter in length. Your mouth watered against your will as you tried to recall what it felt like to have him in your mouth. Gently, your pussy throbbed, bringing fire to your core. Joel’s legs were spread a little, and if you stood right in front of him, you’d see a pair of massive balls that you lathered in your attention and saliva last night. Heat crept to your cheeks and you shook your head trying to force the unwanted desire out of your body. You tiptoed towards the door, keeping your eyes on him and praying that his door doesn’t squeak. Just as you tugged at the doorknob, his left thigh jerked, and Joel brought his hand to rub his closed eyes. 

The loud bang of his front door forced Joel to finally open his eyes. He heard you rummaging around his room, trying to be a quiet little mouse, but for his old age he still had pretty decent senses. Well, hearing, at least. He didn’t budge, not exactly pretending to be asleep yet also not giving you any reason to think otherwise. His body pleasantly ached from sleeping on his side, cocooning you with his body. 

Now that you were gone, he stretched his arms wide and flexed the fingers on his bad hand. It’s been a year too long since he had a pretty young thing like you warming his sheets. The sweet scent of your sweat clung to the pillowcase and he wanted to bury his face in it as he lazily jerked himself to the memories of your cunt exploding on his tongue. 

Your pretty young body tasted divine. He licked his lips hoping to taste the remnants of your cum from his mustache. There was something so addictive about having a girl more than half his age writhe and moan for him, beg so prettily. All of them were the same, so desperate for real attention, for someone who knew how to give them what they didn’t even know they wanted. 

Joel’s cock throbbed in his hand and he brought his palm to his face to spit at it again. You were so wet on his tongue, a fountain of youth no less. So fertile, so easy. His balls were heavy with unspilled cum, he knew it wasn’t long before he burst into your pretty little cunt, and then your ass, too. It took him only a couple of hours to have you gulping him down. Yes, he had to turn to the assistance of trusty powder he kept in his drawer this first time. But judging by the hunger you had in your eyes as you climbed off his face some time later, studying his face shiny with your cum, he wouldn’t need that anymore. You’d end up craving him as much as he craved you from the moment he set his eyes on you.

He squeezed his shaft tighter, his movements more deliberate as his thumb teased the tip and smeared the pearly precum. He didn’t doubt that he already had crept under your skin, the eyes you gave him yesterday with your mouth full of his balls was one of a person hooked. He’d seen it before enough times to know you’d be back. He just needed to be patient now, and if there was something his years made him good at, it was waiting.

Joel gave himself a final jerk, exploding over his knuckles with a deep grunt.

A bunch of keys rattled loudly when you dropped it into a ceramic plate on a table in the hallway of your small apartment. You cursed gruffly, squeezing your eyes shut at the harsh sound. You kicked off your shoes on the way to the bathroom, and with a tired sigh, you pulled off your dress.

“Damn, what the--?” In a hurry, you forgot your panties at Joel's. If this was a regular date, you might have intentionally left an intimate piece of clothing, but with Joel, you couldn’t even... hell, you couldn't even remember if your panties were on that table with your dress.

Your head was still pounding, even taking a taxi with your head out the window didn't help much.

You kept replaying last night in your head, trying to fill in the blanks. You didn’t think you drank more than a bottle; plus, Joel shared it with you, so what the hell happened? He was definitely pouring the slightly bitter-tasting liquid from the bottle that you handed him, you saw the label. You remembered how he walked into the kitchen with an opened wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. Surely he couldn't...?

No, that was crazy talk. It was high time for you to stop listening to your serial killer podcasts. After all, he didn't do anything to you that you hadn’t asked for, that you hadn’t begged for. Especially since now you were in your own apartment, and not tied to a radiator in his basement.

You pulled the faucet handle, the warm water was filling your tub quickly. To make it better, you poured a handful of lavender-scented salt, the soft odor seeped into your lungs and gently calmed you down.

Slowly, you sank into the water, it enveloped you like a hot blanket, making you moan with pleasure. You allowed yourself to close your eyes, leaning your head against the back of the bath tub.

The recollection of your arrival to his house was clear as day; he was friendly and so, so gallant. None of Joel’s actions made you feel uncomfortable or unsettled. He was attentive, his gaze followed your every move, and even the memory of his brown eyes made your skin boil with an inexplicable feeling of desire.

The way he shot glances in the direction of your boobs made your heart beat wildly in your chest. He was trying to hide how much he wanted you, it was adorable and sexy at the same time. He wanted you more than any of your previous lovers seemed to. Maybe that was the reason why you didn't want to leave. The thing that pulled you into his living room and then pushed you to fall between his legs.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't remember exactly how you got there. You just remembered the taste of his salt, the low vibrations of his moans, and the insatiable desire to have more. 

Damn, you felt your pussy purr. Joel had some strange effect on your body, manipulating your mind even in his absence. Summoning all your willpower, you continued your journey through your memories, but the further you went, the more hazy they became.

Only your body remembered something, and that something was pleasure. His hot tongue exploring the folds of your pussy; his curved nose teasing your clit with every greedy movement. His bestial growl when you poured the sweetness of your orgasm into his thirsty mouth. 

And then darkness.

[Joel M.]: Hey, sweetheart, did you get home safe? [Joel M.]: I am not counting that yesterday was something you’d want to repeat, I just want to know you’re alright.

You jerked up from a dreamless nap and blindly found your phone under the pillow. Blinking the sleep out of your eye, you looked at the messages on your screen, doubt about opening them creeped inside you when you saw the sender. The little picture next to Joel’s name still showed you the dream man you went to meet yesterday. A man who turned out to be a lie, kind of. Thoughts of Joel confused you, on one hand he was an accidental liar, and on the other he was one of the best orgasms you’d ever had. An orgasm that still sent tingles down your pussy and made your hand go south. 

Hoping that the attraction your body felt to him was the result of your drinking, and then your hangover. You sighed as the memory of his cock sliding down your throat and the phantom touch of his tongue tracing your wet folds made you weep for him in a way you didn’t think your body could. Rationally, you still tried to fight your carnal interest in a man in his grandpa years, but your hand slowly trekked to your pussy that was filling with warmth and slickness.

You tapped the message open and typed your reply with one hand.

[You]: Hey, Joel, yeah, I’m good :) And I had a very good time yesterday.

Your text was read immediately, and you felt a pang of guilt that you made him sit and stare at his phone waiting for your reply while you were tracing the lips of your pussy and thinking about him in the most indecent way.

[Joel M.]: Well my evening certainly beats yours, I had this beautiful lady come over, she was so intelligent and beautiful, I thought I’d been dreaming the whole night.

A smile spread across your lips as you grinned at the screen. Something warm bloomed in your heart that made it difficult to stay indifferent. 

[You]: Is that all you can say about her? [Joel M.]: I don’t think other things would be appropriate to share, darlin

The buzz of your need that you tried to suffocate since you got out of your bath returned to your body with doubled vigor.

[You]: I promise I won’t tell

Your heart began to pound harder, the vibrations of excited beats bouncing off your ribs in the rhythm of the three dots that flashed at the bottom of the screen. You bit your lip, tearing at the delicate skin in an attempt to calm the swarm of thoughts that were constantly buzzing, trapped in your skull. 

You were driven by greed, by the selfish need to experience again what thrilled you yesterday. It was inexplicable, as if two basic instincts were fighting for control over you, and desire won out, pushing self-preservation into a distant dark corner of your mind.

[Joel M.]: In that case, she was the sexiest little thing I’ve seen my whole life. She had this gorgeous skin tight dress on, looked delicious in it, I think I started salivating the moment I saw her. And I was lucky enough to taste her later and let me tell you, just the memory of her sweet pussy on my face makes me hard.

You reread the message three times, feeling a drop of arousal leaving your hole and sliding down to the crack of your ass. With one finger you swiped it up and brought it to your clit, not playing with it but gently teasing around, soft moans sticking to your throat as you refuse to let them out.

[You]: does it really? [Joel M.]: You want proof? [You]: yeah

[image attached]

You had ripped your hand from your pussy, opening the photo and adjusting the brightness. It was the most stereotypical dick pic ever sent, but you couldn’t care less when you saw it. 

“Fucking hell.” You whined out loud. Joel’s cock, hard and standing proud, looked massive even in his bear paw of a hand. Its head was deep pink, the drop of precum on his angry slit catching the light of the lamp lit room. He didn’t lie a word, he looked painfully aroused and it worked like your personal siren’s song. 

You licked your dry lips, hoping you’d be able to taste him again, to have his fat head stretching your lips with no regard to your comfort. Pushing you just enough without breaking. For a second, you felt like you could smell his musk, your mind playing tricks on you. 

His message beeped, jerking you out of your haze. 

[Joel M.]: Been dreaming her juicy little cunt all day today, could barely get any shit done. Shoulda let her feel my cock yesterday. [You]: Do you regret it? [Joel M.]: I regret that I couldn’t see her pretty face in the morning, wake her up by licking her pussy, fucking her with my fingers before she spills on my tongue. [You]: Fuck, I bet she’d like that. I bet you made her feel so good last night. Bet it was one of the best orgasms of her life and she’s touching herself right now thinking about it. [Joel M.]: Does she? [You]: yeah, she does. 

Forgetting to overthink your every decision, you bring your camera to your naked pussy, making sure that your face is not visible. You tapped the red button and looked at the screen, fascinated by the way your own pussy looks this close. You dragged your index finger to your slit, parting your lips, and then shamelessly demonstrated a string of arousal that stuck to your digit.

[video attached]

[Joel M.]: God, just look at this pussy, so sweet and wet, just begging for some attention. [Joel M.]: Needs someone who knows how to take care of her. [You]: will you? [Joel M.]: You know it. Now do as I say, sweetheart, and touch that pretty clit. Slowly, no need to rush. 

A part of you was relieved that he didn’t freak out about sexting, who knew if the man was even familiar with the concept, but he was definitely a natural. Once again, you captured your pussy and obedience, as you took another short video following his simple command.

[video attached]

[You]: like that? [Joel M.]: Fuck, honey, yeah, just like that. Look at her, gushing already, asking to fill her up so polite. Why don’t you use your fingers to make her feel better, hm? Use two fingers.

It felt good, it always did, you knew how to take care of yourself, you knew how to make yourself writhe and moan. But after him, it was like something was missing. He didn’t even fuck you properly and you felt empty, not enough. You started pushing your fingers inside with more anger and disappointment, unable to fill that weird hollow space that he carved inside you after one drunken night. 

[image attached]

[You]: feels so good, joel, but it’s not enough, fuck need something bigger [Joel M.]: I know what you need, darlin, you need my big fucking cock fucking you dumb. I know that’s right. Dying to fuck an old man, ready to beg for it, ain’t ya? [You]: yes 

You should have been ashamed of yourself, but in reality you didn’t give a crap. In that moment he was giving you something you wouldn’t dare take, and he made you feel good about it. You wished you could hear his raspy voice kissed by South spilling filth in your ear. 

[Joel M.]: Such a good girl, so responsive, so needy, can’t wait to fuck you properly. Add a finger, sweetheart. Not gonna match my cock, I know, for that you’d need to shove your whole fist inside, but I want you tight and crying when I fuck you.

Blinded by the haze of your pleasure, you followed every command, his message replaying in your head over and over, overstimulating your mind. The stretch didn’t burn, it felt good, welcomed, and you tried to curl your fingers to reach the spot that’d break you. You threw your phone on the bed, bringing your other hand to play with your nipples as the heel of your palm rubbed your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel,” you chanted. Your ears rang as your body convulsed in pleasure with the man’s name on your lips.

Your phone rang and you were surprised to see Joel’s request to facetime you. With a shaky finger you swiped to accept the call, leaving a smear of your cum on your screen.

“Judging by your face, that felt good?” His face was poorly lit, but you still saw a smile. 

“Yeah, good is one word,” you admitted, biting your lip. Your lower belly still trembled in the post orgasmic bliss.

“Show me, I think I deserved that, hm?” 

You hesitated for a moment, but spread your legs and angled your camera at your sleek, puffy pussy. Joel grunted, air leaving his lungs with a whistle. 

“Spread those lips, baby, I need to see you pretty hole twitchin’, need to see her winking at me.” It was gross, and weird, yet you did exactly what he asked. Your pussy was sensitive, and you whined as you spread yourself for him.

For a moment there was only silence and wet sounds of him jerking his cock to the sight of your abused pussy. You didn’t dare move. didn’t dare look at the screen even though another spark started burning deep inside you. 

“Fuck, good girl, good fuckin’- good pussy.” Joel’s voice shifted into growling, panting as he came all over his fist. It was your cue to bring the phone back to your face, he was already smiling at you from the other side. 

“So,” his breathing was mostly even, but the sweat glistening on his forehead was a telltale sign of the recent physical exercises. “Whatcha doin’ this Sunday?” 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“After this? Going to church.” 

“No, don’t do that, sweetheart,” Joel chuckled. You opened one eye, noticing how intently he was watching you, his eyes studying every bit of your face for crumbs of reaction, cracks in your freshly-built facade. “We don’t want you to burn alive, do we? How about you visit me?” 

“Pretty sure that’s what Satan said to Eve.” You brought yourself back into the darkness, your heart still pounding as if you’d ran a marathon. All of this wasn’t good, it was wrong but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact problem. He was seeping under your skin, and if you wanted to get rid of him, you’d have to flay yourself alive. Not a bright prospect by any means.

He was looking at you from the other side of the screen, his brown eyes piercing, but he didn’t push you. The words fell from your lips on your own accord.

“I can come by around 8, but this time I’m bringing food.”

Joel smiled, and nodded in agreement. Thick thumb rubbed his plush lower lip, like he was trying to remember something.

“Can’t wait to have a taste.”

You shook your head, a chuckle stuck in your throat. Without saying goodbye you disconnected from the call and dropped the phone on the pillow next to you. Your skin was sticky with sweat, a cold breeze from the opened window teased your flesh, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Pleasant exhaustion and abysmal unease dragged your mind in two different directions keeping your body on the edge of sleep but not letting you fall.

Your bed felt too lumpy, wrinkles of your rumpled sheets digging into your skin. Tossing and turning until early morning, you couldn’t shake the creeping anxiety over your decision.

LEAVE A COMMENT, YOUR FEEDBACK IS MY MOTIVATION <3

[kwilquib]

Red String: Tangled

Word Count 4.6k

Liz - I’ve (🐈‍⬛) x Yeji - Itzy (🐈) x MReader 📖

a/n: i was going to post this after the part 4 of promised 9, but it might take a while so i decided to post this one first instead.

The coffee table was already a battlefield of indulgence—half-eaten strawberries bled onto napkins, the rim of a cake sagged from being sliced unevenly, and the growing graveyard of empty bottles clinked whenever someone shifted. Warm, golden light from a lone floor lamp softened the chaos, casting shadows that swayed gently across the walls.

You were sunk deep into the couch, the alcohol dulling your senses into something languid and warm. Liz, draped against your side like a sleepy cat, had long stopped sipping her wine and started murmuring nonsense into your shoulder. Her fingers loosely hooked around your arm, her hair tickling your jaw with her every breath.

On the floor, back resting against the couch, Yeji nursed the last of her only bottle for the night, as she stared at the flickering candlelight.

“Shall we call it a night?” you asked low.

Yeji looked up at you, then sideways at Liz nestled against you. A short scoff escaped her lips, sharp but not exactly hostile.

You shifted carefully, slowly prying your arm free from Liz’s hold. She mumbles a trifling protest in her sleep but doesn't wake as you lay her down gently across the couch, sliding a pillow to rest her head.

“She didn’t last,” she muttered, with just enough bite for her meaning to latch.

You smirked despite yourself. The tension between them was unspoken but undeniable—at least on Yeji’s part. Liz floated through the days with effortless charm, never rising to Yeji’s jabs, while Yeji simmered, her competitive nature flaring in little comments, lingering glances, subtle one-ups.

“She had more than you,” you said, lightly teasing. “You were sneaking her your shots.”

Yeji raised her chin defiantly. “Not my fault she’s that susceptible.”

“She’s gonna be hungover and dramatic tomorrow.”

“She’s always dramatic.”

Chuckling for a moment, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. Safe. The night had dulled at the edges, the candle’s aroma roamed the space, soft and warm, the alcohol warming your veins. But Yeji’s gaze lingered now—longer, steadier. You noticed.

“So…” you started, tilting your head toward her. “You really don’t like losing to her, huh?”

Yeji didn’t answer immediately. She stepped closer. Then another step. Before you realized it, she was standing directly in front of you, her expression unreadable, but her eyes holding yours without flinching.

“You’re always trying to one-up her,” you said, gentler this time. “Like you’re in some kind of race.”

“I’m not competing,” she shot back, voice tight.

You didn’t push. Just looked at her.

Her glare wavered, and something behind it faltered.

A sigh, then she dropped down to sit in front of you, settling between your legs, her arms resting casually across your knees. “I just… this was different to what I expected when I signed up for the program.”

“How different?”

“I’m not gonna tell you—” She hesitated, then smirked faintly. “How about you go first?”

“Oh wow,” you said, grinning. “Curling it back to me. Real smooth.”

You leaned back into the couch.

“Where do I start? Shitty life, barely surviving, scraping by. Then I heard about the program—matchmaking, state incentives, guaranteed housing, government support if you start a family. Sounded like a dream. A new life handed to you on a silver platter.”

Yeji listened quietly, eyes on your face.

“I didn’t have the luxury to dream about love or family,” you went on. “But if some algorithm could give me a guaranteed match? Sure. Seemed easier to believe in data than in people.”

“The Red String Algorithm,” Yeji said, her voice quiet but undeniably proud. “It extracts every meaningful signal from your history—psych profiles, communication patterns, even the way you process conflict—and uses it to find a true match. Ninety-nine point six percent success rate.”

You snorted. “Right, sorry—Miss Researcher.”

She shot you a look. “You’re living with one of its core developers. You should at least remember the name.”

There was a pause. Her tone softened.

“I always knew the algorithm could work. I just didn’t expect it would… work on me.”

You glanced at her. “It saved my ass, I’ll admit that. But if I’d known back then we’d be matched as a trio instead of a pair…”

You trailed off.

“Then…?” Yeji prompted, cautious.

“Are you saying you regret it?”

“No.” You answered quickly. “Definitely not. Just… it caught me off guard. That’s all. But one thing’s for sure—I’d never go back to before this.”

A silence settled. Not heavy. Just thoughtful.

“…Well,” you said, nudging her lightly. “Your turn. Remember?”

“Same as you.”

“Wow, I feel cheated.”

“Okay, not exactly the same,” she relented. “But I also joined because it made sense. When I applied, they told me my research would get priority status—more funding, less red tape. I didn’t have time to date. The idea of some system finding me a perfect match felt like… a neat solution. Just another algorithm doing its job.”

She gave a short, dry laugh. “And the benefits weren’t bad either.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“I thought I knew exactly what I was signing up for,” she said, voice softer now. “I prepared for everything—sharing space, building habits, managing intimacy like a checklist. But the system knew better.”

Her gaze flicked up to you.

“I didn’t expect… you. Her. Us.”

Your breath caught slightly. There was something flickering in her eyes—uncertainty dressed in composure, like she wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal.

You were about to respond when a soft groan broke the moment.

Liz.

She stirred beside you, shifting slightly, her arm flopping over the couch’s edge.

Both you and Yeji turned to look.

“She’s gonna whine tomorrow,” you said, chuckling under your breath.

Yeji tilted her head. “Assuming she waits till morning.”

a small chuckle.

You smiled, the last threads of laughter still lingering in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned forward—closer to Yeji, who was still sitting on the floor between your knees.

Your arm brushed against her shoulder.

She didn't flinch. If anything, she tilted her head slightly, as if encouraging the contact.

Your laughter faded, leaving behind a sudden, charged silence.

Yeji shifted, angling her body to face you more fully. Her hands came up, resting lightly on your thighs—steadier than her breathing.

Her voice dropped, low and coaxing.

“We still have tonight.”

The weight of her words sank deep into you.

Your breath hitched.

The distance between you was barely anything now, measured only in heartbeats. Her thumbs brushed slow, thoughtless circles against your legs, a touch so featherlight it made you hyper aware of every nerve ending.

“Yeji—” you began, but it came out rough, unsteady.

She smiled—small, almost mischievous—and leaned in.

Close enough that her breath fanned against your mouth.

Close enough that you could count the tiny flecks of gold in her dark eyes.

“You’re drunk,” you whispered.

“Weak excuse,” she murmured, brushing her lips against yours. “You know I’m not.”

Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost there, a ghost of a kiss that left you aching for more.

“We can’t do this.”

“We’re married—on paper,” she replied between kisses. “This is exactly what we’re supposed to do.”

“I mean not now—not here.”

A soft groan broke the moment—Liz, stirring restlessly on the couch.

You both turned to look at her, your hearts tripping over themselves.

But when you looked back, Yeji was already watching you again, emboldened by the interrupted moment.

“Liz is here—”

“You're picking favorites?” with her voice low, almost a warning.

“What? No—”

She kissed you again, firmer this time, her hands sliding a little higher along your thighs, anchoring herself to you.

You should stop this. You knew you should.

But when her tongue teased at your bottom lip, asking—no, daring—you to let her in, your resistance cracked completely.

You kissed her back.

Yeji shifted—settling back down to her knees, now between your legs. Her palms slid smoothly over your thighs, grounding you in the moment as her eyes locked with yours.

The warmth of her hands seemingly seeping through the fabric. Her thumbs brushed a small, absent circle through the fabric. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words dissolved in your throat when her fingers moved to your waistband. Slow. Testing.

“Yeji…” a futile warning, knowing it's not you who’s in control.

She glanced up, lips parted, eyes locked. “If you want me to stop, say it.”

Your silence was her permission.

A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as her fingers undid the button, then the zipper—slow, methodical—and peeled your pants away with a patience that only made it worse.

And better.

Your breath caught in your throat as the cool air hit you, the warmth of her hand came after—then the heat of her mouth.

She widened her mouth, opening to welcome you deeper, her head bobbing with growing urgency. Wet sounds filled the room—the slick slide of her lips, the soft, breathy gags as you hit the back of her throat, the faint brush of her hair against your stomach as she leaned in harder, more desperate.

It was overwhelming—too much, too good.

And maybe that was why, somewhere in the fog of pleasure, a sharp thread of worry slipped through.

Your chest tightened. You turned instinctively to your side, the sudden need to check, to make sure—

“Fuck. Yeji!” You shoved her mouth off your cock, not far, not harsh, just enough to break the seal of her lips—just enough to expose her slick grin and the spit-slick strand still connecting her tongue to your tip.

Liz.

She was awake.

Hands covered her face like she was trying to deny what she was seeing—yet her fingers parted just enough for you to catch her eyes, wide and shimmering, veiling its shame. Caught between wanting to watch and wanting to flee, flushed.

“Liz, it’s not—” you stammered, cock still wet, still hard, still twitching under the ghost of Yeji’s mouth.

“For someone touchy, you’re surprisingly shy.” Yeji cuts in before you could reason.

“It’s normal to be shy in situations like this!” Liz croaked, voice cracking mid-protest, eyes locked on you as if she was calling for you to be on her side.

Yeji only laughed softly, the sound dripping with knowing amusement. “Is it also normal to be shy when it’s just you two, too?”

Your mouth opened—but nothing came out. Words tangled in your throat, hot and useless. “How—”

“The walls are thin, you know,” Yeji said, voice lazy, almost indulgent. Then she glanced at Liz—deliberate, slow. “Plus, you’re awfully loud.”

A tiny sound escaped Liz behind her hands—a muffled whimper, not fear, not disgust. Something else. Excitement, tangled with shame, twisting hot and helpless in her gut.

Yeji stretched her arms languidly behind her, a cat waking from a satisfied nap, then leaned in, voice sultry and slow. “Well,” she said, her gaze locking onto Liz’s, “are you just going to stare?”

“Yeji—” you warned, already knowing it was too late.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, all liquid confidence, and purred, “Maybe you should head back to your room, little voyeur.”

The words wrapped around Liz like smoke—seductive, heavy, inescapable. But Liz didn’t move.

“I—I’m not going to leave,” Liz stammered, voice so small it barely reached across the couch. But it did. Every syllable landed like a drop of oil on fire.

Her eyes narrowed, gleamed like a predator’s in low light—sharp, cutting, approving. She sat back on her heels, head tilting slightly as if appraising Liz under new light. Her hand didn’t leave your cock. She held it steady, fingers curled at the base, glistening with spit, the exposed length twitching under her grip.

“Cute,” she finally said, slow and velvety. “Come here, then.”

Liz hesitated only a heartbeat before leaving her hoodie on the couch. Shoulders bare. Tank top clinging to soft curves. No bra. Her nipples pressed like little beads against the fabric, hard from watching. From wanting. From finally deciding.

.Yeji watched her approach without blinking.

You sat frozen between them—cock soaked, heart pounding, thighs trembling from restraint.

Liz knelt beside Yeji, movements quiet, cautious, like she was stepping into a hot bath—both terrified and aching to be swallowed.

“Ever done this?” Yeji asked, without malice, just curiosity sharpened by thrill.

Liz shook her head, biting her lip, cheeks blooming red. “No… not like this.”

“Oh princess.” Yeji’s smirk deepened. “Follow my lead.”

And just like that, Liz lowered herself.

Her hand reached first—tentative, warm fingers brushing your shaft like you might disappear. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, like she was holding something sacred. Yeji guided her, sliding her hand on top of Liz’s, the contrast striking—Yeji’s grip firm, Liz’s trembling.

You groaned.

Yeji started stroking again, this time with Liz’s hand moving under hers, both palms working you together, one bold and commanding, the other shy and curious. Flesh slid slick and smooth under their hands, your hips twitching against the sensation of two women touching you at once.

“Go on,” Yeji said, voice a breath against your thigh now. “Try it.”

Liz leaned in.

Her lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out like she was testing temperature. She kissed your tip, soft, barely there, then pulled back with wide eyes.

Yeji’s hand never stopped moving.

“Again,” Yeji coaxed. “Open wider. No teeth.”

Liz nodded. Obedient. Blushing.

She leaned in again and wrapped her lips around your head, warm and wet and cautious. She sucked gently, cheeks hollowing slightly, dimple flashing as she bobbed forward—then pulled back, letting your cock pop wetly from her mouth.

You gasped.

Yeji growled, something primal. “Not bad.”

Then she dove in again.

Her mouth engulfed your length beside Liz’s, taking more, taking deeper, her tongue a skilled, relentless force. Liz followed with wide eyes, licking the side of your shaft Yeji wasn’t occupying, kissing the base, moaning softly every time she tasted you.

Their mouths moved in tandem. Yeji’s deep and possessive, Liz’s light and fluttering.

You were being devoured.

“Fuck—shit, girls—ah—” Your voice shattered, your thighs spread wider, hips rolling into their mouths, body caught between Yeji’s dominance and Liz’s eager submission.

Yeji sucked harder. Her eyes snapped up, locking with yours. Commanding.

Liz’s tongue curled around your base, her hand cupping your balls, soft fingers trembling with effort and excitement. Her lips were pink and swollen now, a line of drool running down her chin as she moaned against your skin.

Yeji pulled back and let a long string of spit fall from her tongue to your cock, coating it more. “Good girl,” she muttered to Liz, then slapped her ass gently. “But don’t just play. Take him. Like this.”

She shoved her mouth down again—deeper, fiercer, throat clenching around you as she gagged slightly, then pulled back with a slurp, gasping. “That’s how you suck cock.”

Liz’s eyes sparkled, wet and wide. She swallowed nervously. Then she tried again, this time deeper, more committed.

You could barely hold on.

“God, you’re both—fuck—” you groaned, voice barely there, one hand buried in Yeji’s hair, the other tangled in Liz’s.

They licked you like it was a competition. A dance. Heat and wetness and rhythm. Yeji guiding Liz, licking the underside while Liz took your tip, her lips wrapped around it so gently you thought you might lose it. Then they’d trade—Yeji taking you all the way, Liz licking what she couldn’t reach. Spit soaked your thighs. Their mouths met at your base, licking each other’s tongues, sharing the taste of you.

You were shaking.

Yeji grinned against your cock. “Cum for us,” she whispered.

Liz whimpered. “Please…”

Your breath caught—lungs seized like a misfiring engine, every nerve in your body tightening to a razor’s edge. Their mouths moved in perfect sync now, wet, rhythmic, obscene. Yeji’s tongue flicked just beneath the head as Liz suckled the tip, cheeks drawn in with hunger and awe. You could barely tell whose hand was whose—soft skin wrapped around your shaft, stroking in tandem, squeezing you up toward the inevitable.

“F-Fuck, I’m—” The words barely left your lips before your hips bucked, spine arching off the couch.

Yeji pulled Liz back at the last moment, hand gripping the base tight, lips parting as your cock erupted.

Hot, thick spurts of cum painted Yeji’s tongue, her mouth, her throat. She moaned, her eyes rolling slightly, lashes fluttering, her throat working as she swallowed it down. But not all of it.

She didn’t swallow it all.

She held some—warm, white, thick—pooling on her tongue like a decadent gift.

“Ahhn…” she exhaled, eyes flicking to Liz. Still kneeling. Still flushed. Still trembling from watching you explode.

Yeji grabbed her by the jaw.

Firm but not cruel. Her fingers pressed into Liz’s cheeks, and Liz gasped as Yeji leaned in—mouth open, cum heavy inside—and kissed her.

No time for hesitation.

Their lips met in a sticky, messy, desperate kiss. Yeji pushed it into her. Tongue sliding in, sharing the load. The mix of slick spit and seed spilling from one mouth to the other in thick, slow dribbles.

Liz’s eyes went wide—but she didn’t pull away.

She moaned.

Yeji groaned back, fingers now buried in Liz’s hair as she deepened the kiss, mouths locked, tongues swirling, swapping the taste of you like something sacred and filthy all at once.

You watched, dazed, cock twitching even in its aftershock.

Yeji pulled away finally, a thin strand of cum still stretching between their lips, shining in the low light.

Liz swallowed.

Hard.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then smiled at you—shy, glowing, a little breathless, dimple showing even now.

Yeji licked her lips. “Now that,” she said, voice hoarse with triumph, “is how you share.”

Liz giggled—sweet, almost innocent—but her thighs were pressed tight together, her chest rising fast.

Yeji turned to you again, stroking your thigh lazily. “Bedroom?” she whispered, licking the last drop off her thumb.

Your cock twitched.

You weren’t done. Neither were they.

They stood, both of them still licking their lips—one smug, the other dazed—while you slumped back against the couch, cock twitching from oversensitivity, slick with their spit, your legs weak with afterglow. But for Yeji, for them it had just started.

She grabbed your hand. “Come. Now.”

Yeji stood first. Confident. Graceful. She rose like sin personified, the wet gleam on her lips catching the low light. Then she turned, reached out, and grabbed your wrist. “Bedroom,” she said, no room for argument in her tone. She was already moving, pulling you off the couch with Liz scrambling up after, nervous but burning with adrenaline, her thighs rubbing as she followed you both down the dim hallway.

Your room was barely lit—warm shadows, rumpled sheets, faint perfume in the air—but it didn’t matter.

Yeji pushed the door shut behind you with her foot and turned to Liz.

“Well?” she asked, voice low, like a dare wrapped in silk. “You’ve been watching. Want to feel it now?”

Liz hesitated, biting her lip again. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Yeji smirked. “Clothes off. On the bed.”

Liz obeyed. Her tank top peeled up over her head, revealing soft, pale skin and pert breasts tipped with flushed pink. She shimmied her shorts and panties down together, stepping out with one leg at a time, her movements hesitant but fluid, like a dream she wasn’t sure she was awake for.

She lay back, legs closing instinctively. Yeji clicked her tongue.

“Open,” she said, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Don’t hide now.”

Liz parted her legs, slowly, her pussy glistening already, folds pink and puffy with anticipation. She covered her face for a second with one hand, but peeked through her fingers just like before—watching you.

You were already hard again.

Yeji crooked her finger at you. “Come here,” she said. “She’s ready.”

You crawled up between Liz’s spread legs, your cock bobbing, already aching again from the scene you’d just watched unfold. Yeji knelt beside her, hand sliding up Liz’s inner thigh, spreading her gently, two fingers brushing over her slick entrance.

“She’s soaked,” she said, glancing at you with heat. “Give it to her slow.”

You nodded, guiding yourself to Liz’s entrance, the heat of her making you groan before you even pushed in. The first inch was heaven. Wet, tight, squeezing you like she’d been made for it.

Liz gasped, her back arching, hand flying to your arm. “Oh my god…”

You went deeper, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around you. She was snug, fluttering around your cock like her body was shocked by how full she felt. Her eyes fluttered, mouth parting in a moan she tried to swallow.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her neck. “Breathe. Let him in.”

You bottomed out with a grunt, hips pressing flush against her, Liz’s breath catching in her throat as her nails dug into your shoulder. You held still, letting her adjust, your cock twitching inside her walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” you whispered.

Liz whimpered.

Yeji’s hand slid over her breast, pinching a nipple, making her buck slightly beneath you.

“Move,” Yeji ordered you. “Let her feel it.”

You started to thrust—slow, deliberate strokes, dragging along her slick walls. Liz moaned louder now, hips rising to meet yours, the tension melting from her limbs as pleasure took its place.

Yeji watched you both, her hand dipping between Liz’s thighs, fingers finding the little pearl at the top of her slit. She rubbed it in slow circles, matching your thrusts.

Liz cried out—short, breathless sounds that only made you pound harder.

“You like that?” Yeji purred into Liz’s ear. “You like being fucked while I touch you?”

Liz nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth falling open in a silent moan as her legs locked tighter around your waist.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her—slow and deep—her fingers still working between Liz’s thighs, circling faster now. Then she pulled back, lips slick, eyes glowing, and turned her gaze on you.

There was a glint in them—mischievous, luring. She leaned closer to you, a breath’s warmth brushing your lips just before she claimed them in a kiss.

It was deep. Hungry. Her mouth molded to yours, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate control, a slow burn of desire made real. Her fingers curled into your shoulder to steady herself as her body pressed against yours.

Your hand, once gripping her thigh, faltered—drifting upward instead to cup her jaw. You kissed her harder, pulling her in, drowning yourself in the heat of her mouth.

Everything else blurred—until Liz moved beneath you.

A soft whimper broke through, her hips rolling upward again, slick heat clenching around you, desperate for motion. She hadn’t stopped.

Your eyes cracked open as Yeji pulled back just enough to see.

She followed your glance. Saw Liz writhing below, breathless, impatient.

A smirk bloomed across her face. “Faster,” Yeji murmured, voice like silk catching flame. “She can take it.”

You obeyed. Your hips slapped against her thighs, your cock plunging deeper with every thrust. Liz was gasping, writhing, caught between your rhythm and Yeji’s touch. Her body trembled under the intensity, and her eyes locked with yours—wide, pleading, filled with wild pleasure.

“Y-Yes, fuck—ahh, please—” Liz sobbed, her back arching, body clenching around you so tight it stole your breath.

“She’s close,” Yeji said, licking her fingers before sliding them back down. “Don’t pull out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you growled.

You drove into her harder, faster, relentless now. Her wet heat clung to you with every stroke, and the sound of skin slapping, Liz’s cries, and Yeji’s breathy moans filled the room like music.

Liz shook, her thighs trembling, hands clawing at the sheets. Her pussy squeezed around your cock like a vice, milking you as her orgasm crested.

“Cumming—oh god—fucking—!” she screamed, her whole body snapping taut beneath you as she came, walls fluttering and pulsing.

Yeji didn’t stop touching her. She kept rubbing, helping her ride the wave while watching your face.

You weren’t going to last.

Not with Liz gripping you like this, still spasming, not with Yeji’s eyes on you like she owned you.

You buried yourself as deep as you could, every muscle tensing, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

And then you were spilling inside her.

Thick, hot pulses of cum shot into her womb, and she gasped as she felt it, body still twitching around you, milking every last drop. Your hips jerked with each burst, and Yeji moaned softly, her hand slipping down to press lightly against Liz’s belly as if she could feel your cum filling her from the outside.

“Good boy,” she whispered, eyes dark and satisfied. “Fucking bred her good, didn’t you?”

You collapsed forward, panting, still buried in Liz’s quivering body, her pussy sucking on your softening cock like it didn’t want to let go.

And Yeji?

She wasn’t done.

Yeji shifted atop you, still catching her breath, your cum dripping from her slowly with every subtle movement of her hips. Her fingers pressed into your chest as she sat upright again, grinding once more just to feel it—feel you still inside her, thick and twitching, softening slightly but not quite done.

She clenched.

Hard.

Your body jolted under her.

“Still got more in you,” she whispered, her voice low, husky, coaxing. “I want mine.”

She leaned forward, bracing herself on your chest, rolling her hips with practiced control. Slow, deliberate circles that pulled sounds from you like wringing a soaked cloth. Your hands gripped her thighs, slick with sweat, watching her move like liquid heat above you—hair plastered to her face, eyes locked on yours with fire and intent.

Liz stirred beside you, still flushed, her fingers resting at her slick entrance, too tender to touch but too affected to stop watching. Her gaze flicked between your face and the way Yeji rode you, her lips parted in silent awe.

Yeji slammed down again. And again.

You choked on a breath, overstimulated but captivated, your cock responding to her no matter how raw you felt. She twisted her hips on each downward thrust, her pussy still impossibly tight, her insides sucking you deeper, using your last reserves.

She moaned—deep and feral, each sound dragging from her throat like a battle cry and a prayer at once.

“I want it,” she said again, breathless. “All of it.”

You couldn’t stop if you tried.

Your nails dug into her ass as you started thrusting up into her, meeting her pace, driving harder, faster, the slap of skin echoing through the room. Yeji's back arched, hands splayed against your chest as her body began to quake. She was close—so close you could feel it in the way her walls fluttered, clamped.

“Right there,” she hissed. “Fucking—yes—don’t stop—”

You slammed into her.

Once. Twice. Deep.

And you broke.

Hot cum burst inside her again, thicker this time, pressure building in a final desperate wave. Yeji screamed—actual screamed—her orgasm snapping through her like a whip, her body locking up as her pussy milked your cock for everything. Her head tossed back, spine a perfect bow, mouth open wide as she came hard, spilling over you.

You pulsed inside her, filling her again, until she collapsed forward, full, dripping, her breath hot against your throat.

“Fuck…” she whispered, barely audible.

Your arms wrapped around her without thinking. Liz curled tighter into your side, her fingers lacing with yours. Yeji lay across your chest, one hand resting on Liz’s hip, all three of you tangled, sweating, sticky and still twitching from the echoes.

The room smelled of sex—thick, raw, heady.

None of you moved.

Yeji shifted once, just enough to sigh, cum seeping from her slowly, spreading warmth between your thighs.

Liz murmured something soft, a barely-there breath of contentment, her head tucked into the crook of your neck.

You could feel the last of your strength ebbing away, your muscles too relaxed to hold anything but this—this perfect, fucked-out stillness. A puddle of limbs, moans fading, breath evening out.

The dark wrapped around you all.

And then sleep took you.

A/n: Part of Woolly's prompt event!

[bananawafers]

jjk men in the delivery room! pt. 2!

woot woot! check out pt.1 here!

ㅤ♡ nanami kento ㅤ♡

• so, SO overly prepared

• military-grade hospital bag

• timing your contractions, checking monitors, adjusting your pillow

• your comfort > anything else

• tries to get you to do breathing exercises with him & you just keep laughing. haha nerd ! ☜(`o´)

• “for the love of— just one moment of seriousness. one.”

• he might be exasperated with you, but the moment you wince and your goofy smile drops, he wants nothing more than to bring it back

• every time you cry or yelp from the pain he has to close his eyes for a second, breathe through it with you. he won’t cry—he can’t, not yet

• queen never cry

• he may not cheer or shout, but the pride in his eyes says everything the moment he sees his child. he’d brush your hair out of your face, press a lingering kiss to the top of your head, and speak softly

• “that’s my girl…”

• you catch his wobbly smile before he even realizes it

• you know better than to call him out on it

• girl dad. fosholy

• sooo careful holding the baby. asks the nurses how to do it

• “i assume there’s a technique for this, yes? a specific way to keep her stable”

• the baby’s tiny pink outfit against his serious, perfectly tailored shirt and black pants looks almost comedic

• thanks the nurses like he’s in a business conference

❤︎ geto suguru ❤︎

• so calm and supportive!!! like . biology aside, he is mother ♡(˘̩̩̩̩̩̩ ⌂ ˘̩̩̩̩̩̩)

• rubs your back, holds your hand, or just rests his hand on your leg. every touch is slow, deliberate, as if to remind you that he’s not going anywhere

• poor guy just feels so guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain

• whispers sweet little praises as he holds you. how you’re so beautiful, so perfect, so above him

• staff is flabbergasted at how calm he is

• “are you sure this is your first time in the delivery room, sir?”

• like !! the way he encourages you, you’d think he was a midwife in a past life

• “keep those shoulders loose, okay? you’re doing so well” as he gently massages your shoulders

• fast forward and the baby is finally out, you’re dazed, eyes fluttering, voices and sounds blur into white noise

• he slips an arm around your shoulders and lowers his head to rest his chin gently against your shoulder. “hey… hey. look.” he softly lifts your cheek to look at the foot of the bed, where the doctor holds the baby. “just look at her.”

• fml

• forgot to mention. girl dad. goes without saying

𓏵 sukuna ryomen 𓏵

• WHO INVITED YOU

• GET OUT

• POLICE

• breathing down the doctor’s neck fr

• “don’t you fools have something stronger to give her? anesthesia? an IV of something potent— hell, knock her out for a bit”

• tapping on the heart monitor like it’s a fish tank

• plays with the hospital bed remote, lifting it and lowering it mid-contraction

• you’re literally writhing in pain and he’s so over it

• “didn’t realize i needed earplugs”

• gets up and stands directly in front of the doctor like a mob boss waiting for results

• “taking too damn long.” he says, looking between your legs, completely unfazed. he glances up at you. “say the word and i’ll pull the sucker out myself”

• when the baby is born, he lets out a sigh. “finally. took long enough”

• he walks over and squints at the newborn. “…why does it look like an alien.”

• sort of just watches you hold the baby with mild curiosity

• when you hand the baby to him, he holds it like a live grenade

• eventually sits down, still rigid, but quieter. after minutes of intense scrutiny, his shoulders relax a little. he leans in close to the baby and whispers. “you better grow into that head, runt” (was that affection in his tone?)

pt. 3 - choso, toji => here :D

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I hope you are well and having a GREAT DAY I just had an idea for poly!marauders for how the boys would react to her using her safe word when they’re experimenting 🧐

Hi lovely, hope you're having a great day too! I didn't have her safeword in the usual sense but I hope this still captures the vibe you wanted <3

cw: smut mdni, some (relatively tame) bdsm, reader who doesn't like being tied up

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It’s a bit uncomfortable, but you think it’s supposed to be. You like when your boyfriends put your wrists above your head or behind your back, usually. It kicks your heartbeat up in a way that’s fun for you. You were a strong supporter of Sirius’ idea to use some other apparatus to bind your hands so that the boys could be using theirs for other things than restraining you. The issue you’re running up against, unfortunately, is that your boyfriends’ hands are usually warm and loving and have a bit of give to them; this rope does not. 

You shift, trying to find a less stifling position for your hands than beneath your tailbone, but Sirius stops you with a touch on your stomach. 

“Easy,” he says, voice breathy both from watching you and from having his cock pumped by Remus. “How’s James supposed to make you feel good if you’re squirming?” 

James makes a low sound into your cunt. You can’t tell if it’s agreement or objection, but it makes your walls clench. He pushes his nose into your clit appreciatively. 

“Can we—” you falter. James slows, listening. “I want to sit up, can we do that?” 

“Yeah,” James says, almost directly into your hole. The vibrations make your breath catch, and he grins, backing away peaceably. “Course we can, angel.” 

“What do you want to do?” asks Remus, also slowing behind James. He uses his free hand to brush a steadying touch over the other boy’s hip. “You feel ready to sit on someone?” 

You nod hesitantly. 

Sirius volunteers himself for the task, giving Remus’ wrist an affectionate squeeze so he lets go. “C’mere, gorgeous.” 

James looks behind at Remus gamely. “Suppose that’s you and me then, lovely.” 

Remus’ cheeks go a lovely pink. He bends to press a brief kiss to James’ shoulder before starting to move again. 

You try not to let yourself become anxious as Sirius helps you maneuver without your hands. You roll from your back up onto your knees, allowing him to nudge your thighs wider to accommodate him as he positions himself beneath you. 

Your boyfriend looks up at you with wicked grey eyes. “Ready to give us another?” 

Your boyfriends had already brought you to orgasm once before binding your hands. You’re still feeling the aftershocks of it, shivers in your legs and sensations somewhere between pain and pleasure shooting through your core when anyone touches your clit. Two orgasms isn’t unheard of for you. You’ve done it only a few times before, though each time it’s been a bit of an overwhelm; you feel nearly blown apart and need extra time to recuperate afterwards. Your boyfriends are always more than willing to accommodate. 

You can feel that second one brewing as you ride Sirius. He holds your hips, guiding them to drive you faster, while your head starts to spin. Your tits feel sore from the bruises and love bites James left on them earlier, the sensation on your clit is too much, and your wrists—you want them out, you want your hands back, you want this awful confined feeling to stop. The next sound that leaves you borders upon a whimper. 

“That feel good, sweetness?” Sirius' thumb strokes your hip. After a pause, he asks, “Can you look at me?”  

It’s then that you realize your eyes are squeezed shut. You open them, your breath caught in your throat. 

Sirius’ gaze is assessing, hesitant, but it’s James who asks, “You okay, angel?” 

You try to hum. It pitches unsteadily. 

Your boyfriends look unsure. Sirius’ grip on your hips has turned more gentle than controlling, and James and Remus have slowed, both watching you from the end of the bed. 

“Do we need to stop?” James asks. 

Your breath whooshes out of you. “Yeah, stop,” you manage. “Stop.” 

“Okay.” Sirius holds your hips, and with a look at James both boys work together to lift you carefully off his cock. You all but fall into Sirius’ arms, trembling. “Good job, baby. You did beautifully, I’m so proud of you.” 

“Can someone untie me?” you ask hoarsely. 

“I’ve got it,” Remus assures you. You feel his warmth at your side. The knots tighten momentarily before he pulls them away. 

“Oh,” James breathes, “sweetheart…” 

You bring your wrists in front of you as soon as you can, shoulders aching. Sirius kisses your head while you burrow your hands under him to hug him back. 

“We’re done,” he promises you. “You did such a good job.” 

“Thank you for telling us.” Remus rubs your back, his warm hand coasting slowly up and down your spine. “Was it too much?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into Sirius’ chest. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for, lovely?” Remus asks calmly. 

“I could’ve gotten there. I was close, I just—it felt like so much—” 

Sirius shushes you. “Hey,” he chides, thumb rubbing your forehead so you look up at him. You find his brows lowered with concern. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel like doing, yeah? Ever. Coming again should be fun for you, that’s the point.” 

“And if you aren’t up to it, that’s fine,” James clarifies. “It’s only fun if you’re having fun, right?” You turn your head to the side to see him, nodding. Your boyfriend gives you a tender look, his smile wavering at the edges. “Sweetheart, can we see your hands, please?” 

You take them out from beneath Sirius, confused at the request but caught by surprise at the sight of them. James makes a soft, wounded sound as he takes them gently in his hands. Sirius murmurs a curse and sits up with you in his lap. 

Your wrists are rubbed raw, bracelets of angry skin circling each one and skin splitting in a couple of places. James runs his thumb gently over the palm of your hand, pitying. 

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” he asks softly. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

Remus gives you a slow, evaluative look. “Did you not realize you were rubbing them?” 

You shake your head. 

He rubs your leg. “You didn’t really like being restrained, hm?” 

“I don’t think so,” you admit self-consciously. 

“Good,” Sirius decides. “I’ve just learnt that I don’t like you being restrained, either.” 

Remus lets out an amused exhale through his nose. “I’m sorry, lovely,” he says. “Thank you for telling us when you did. I’m glad we didn’t carry on.” 

You shrink a little. “Really?” 

“Of course, really,” James insists. He brings your hands to his mouth, kissing the hearts of both your palms. “We don’t want you to be in pain, physical or mental or whatever else. You should always stop us.” 

“Okay.” You give him a little smile. “Thanks.” 

“You ready to stand up?” Remus checks in. When you nod, he gets off the bed, prompting you to follow with a touch to your back. “Good. I want to get some cool water on those burns while they’re still fresh.”

[miyamiwu]

To Be Hero X: Supporting Characters’ Names in Chinese and English + Chinese Name Meanings

As mentioned in the Top 10 Heroes version of this post, here’s a names meaning post for the supporting characters.

Characters are sorted by order of appearance, and names are listed in this order: English, Chinese, Pinyin, and Nickname/CN Abbreviation. (The last two are just for my own reference. And ignore the colors in the text. That’s also just for my ref)

Post will be updated after every character arc.

1. Miss J / 娟姐 / Juān Jiě / JJ

Juān 娟 means beautiful/graceful, while jiě 姐 is a honorific that means “elder sister.” But jie can also be used to address older women in the same generation or in a generation close to you, so the translation of “miss” in English is apt.

I really didn’t want to abbreviate her as JJ because of Yuri on Ice, but since Ice Ado movie is cancelled then whatever

2. Moon / 潇月卿 / Xiāo Yuè Qīng / XYQ

Dictionary definitions of each character in her name:

潇 (xiāo) = (of water) deep and clear; (of wind and rain) howling and pounding; (of light rain) pattering

月 (yuè) = moon

卿 (qīng) = high ranking official (old); term of endearment between spouses (old); (from the Tang Dynasty onwards) term used by the emperor for his subjects (old);

The association of xiao with water, the word for moon, plus qing being both a term of endearment between old couples and one used to address someone of high status. Something something about Xiao Yueqing being put on a pedestal and also the fact that she is now Lin Ling’s white moonlight:

The Chinese slang white moonlight (白月光 , bái yuèguāng) typically refers to someone or something that remains unattainable yet deeply cherished in one’s heart. It represents a love that lingers—idealized, untouchable, and forever out of reach. While often translated as a “first love,” it specifically describes a love that was never fully realized or reciprocated.

3. Enlighter / 启士 / Qǐ Shì / QS

Qǐ 启 means “to enlighten/awaken,” and Shì 士 is a suffix used to denote someone as an expert in something. Thus, Enlightener Enlighter.

The correct word is Enlightener, not Enlighter 💀. Li Haoling, I beg you, stay in your lane and leave the localization to the experts 😭

3.2 God Eye / 天眼 / Tiān Yǎn / GE

Tiān 天 translates to “heaven” or “sky,” but depending on context it can also stand for “god.” Yǎn 眼 means “eye.”

Imma call him by his English name since the translation is good enough. GE is also a much better abbreviation than TY, which can stand for “thank you.”

4. Wreck / 破坏王 / Pòhuài Wáng / W + 雷克 / Léi Kè

His Chinese name means “Destruction King,” and in Chinese it sounds like what one would call a very troublesome child. The Chinese fans hate it and refuse to call him by it 😂. In the Chinese fandom, some just call him Wreck (written in English) or by its transliteration 雷克 (Léi Kè), which can mean “Thunder Conqueror.” And honestly, that sounds a whole lot cooler than Destruction King 😭. 雷 is also internet slang for “terrifying,” apparently… Yeah, that really is cooler 😭😭😭

Once again, Li Haoling, please stay in your lane

5. Firm Man / 英雄不倒 / Yīngxióng Bù Dǎo / BD

I initially thought Yīngxióng 英雄 was just a title they add on to a hero’s name since it just means Hero, and in-universe there’s an ad that addresses Nice as Yingxiong Nice. But in the case of Bu Dao, I guess it really is part of his hero name since nobody calls him by just Bu Dao.

Bù 不 is a negator, and Dǎo 倒 is “to fall.” Direct translation of his name would then be something like Never Falling Hero, Infallible Hero, etc.

Firm Man is such a terrible translation 💀

6. Wolf Girl / 蛊狼 / Gǔ Láng / GL

Gǔ 蛊 refers to a type of poison that is used to bewitch someone and can be controlled from afar. This choice of character is then very fitting for Gu Lang, since her powers work by changing the public’s perception of Bu Dao without directly confronting him.

Láng 狼 means wolf. Altogether, her name can be translated as Poison Wolf. Some have translated it to Mad Wolf, since Gu can also mean “to drive someone to insanity.” Personally, I prefer Bewitching Wolf or just Wolf Witch.

See now how “Wolf Girl” is an injustice to her actual hero name?

7. Mr. Shand Shang / 尚总 / Shàng Zǒng / SZ

Shàng 尚 is just a common Chinese surname, but here are some of its dictionary definitions: still / yet / to value / to esteem.

Zǒng 总 is an honorific for your superior in work. I’ve often seen it translated as “chief.” So, Chief Zong.

Idk why the translation team decided to change the g in Shang to d. Shang sounds much better than Shand, and English viewers shouldn’t find it weird since there was a guy named Shang in Mulan...

8. Blankster / 忘仔 / Wàng Zǎi / WZ

Wàng 忘 means “to forget,” while Zǎi 仔 means “child.” I guess the zai is there because WZ has been a hero since he was young.

9. Uncle Rock / 岩叔 / Yán Shū / YS

In Asia, it’s common to address other people with family terms as a way of showing respect or familiarity. Yang Cheng calls Yán 岩 “uncle 叔,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re blood-related.

Yán 岩 means “rock” or “cliff.”

10. Xià Qíng / 夏晴 / XQ

Xià 夏 means summer, while Qíng means clear/fine (when talking about the weather).

11. Shàng Chāo / 尚超 / SC

Shang Chao actually has the same surname as Mr. Shang/Shand (he is, after all, his son). I don’t know why the translation team decided to give them different surnames 💀

Chāo means “to exceed/surpass.”

12. Little Pomelo / 小柚子 / Xiǎo Yòuzi / YZ

Little Pomelo is a literal translation of his Chinese nickname. (Yeah, I believe that’s just a nickname and not his actual name.)

Xiǎo 小, meaning “little,” is often added before a name as a form of endearment.

13. (to be continued…)

If there are any errors, just tell me and I’ll correct them.

[karaeilish]

★ old habits; b. eilish. . .

★ a/n — i don't wanna directly connect this to the new pics of billie and nat. this fic's been in my drafts for a long time, and now seemed like the perfect time to post it. i don't encourage hate or anything like that. so please treat this work the same as all the others !

★ angst `

for as long as you were together, you had one little habit that never went away. it was just something normal, something ordinary. it was a sign that you were okay, that nothing had changed, that your heart still beats just as hard at the thought of seeing her again. and it doesn't matter if you haven't seen each other for two hours or two weeks.

you always jump on her. just run up and throw your arms around her neck, legs wrapped around her waist every time when she was coming home after a long drive or any other situation when you saw each other after a while. billie was always strong enough to hold you in her arms calmly while you wrapped your limbs around her like a little koala. that was the nickname she gave you.

on normal days it was always energetic and joyful, hugging her tightly around the neck and leaving kisses on her cheek, her lips, her forehead, until her whole face was covered in traces of your lipstick and you were both giggling. she would carry you around the house for a few more minutes, making you feel like a little girl.

other days, after fights or tense moments, it was touchy-feely, slow, sensual. you would approach her with eyes puffy from crying, slowly climbing on top of her or holding out your arms for her to lift you herself, letting you lean completely on her. you'd hold her tighter than usual as she carried you to the bedroom, gently lowering your body onto the soft mattress. she'd take your hands in hers, listening patiently as you told her what had hurt you. so you could sincerely apologize to each other, and then fall asleep with her head on your chest, listening to your calm breathing and counting the beats of your heart under her cheek.

it was always so normal. so real.

but this time, apologizing wouldn’t help.

billie was leaving for a few days to support one of her friends before their concert. you didn’t have to ask her who would be there. she just laid her head on your lap, telling you every detail and every plan. said she just wanted to have fun, and you let her go without a second thought, knowing that the only thing you’d worry about was that she’d fall over again, coming home with a bunch of new bruises.

it was dark outside, the summer air ventilating your apartment through the small crack of an open window. the clock had just struck 10 PM, and you heard the soft click of the front door. and then that achingly familiar voice. your chest tightened. billie put her bag down on the floor, shouting that she was home and opening her arms wide for you to embrace her. but you remained still. there was only silence in response, and then she really tensed up.

“baby?” she nervously takes off her shoes, hurrying further into the apartment and entering the only room with a light on — the living room. billie's eyes scan everything she sees, and her gaze lands on you, sitting on the couch, curled up into a ball, making you look even more fragile.

there was a shit ton of papers scattered across the coffee table, and billie didn't realize what they were until she got closer, picking up a few of them in her hands. her eyes glazed over. her heart stopped for a few moments. pictures. her. some girl you didn't know. kissing. her stomach dropped.

the half minute of silence stretched on for an eternity as she continued to stare at the same photo, as if hoping the image would change. fade. burn away under her gaze.

“is this how you hang out with your friends now?” your voice was quiet, broken. so hurt that there was no accusation in it. just the raw pain tearing at your heart for the last few hours that you had spent in the same position, staring at the same images. and the longer you stared, the more unreal they became. everything became so unreal, so empty and meaningless. “i thought i could trust you, billie.”

using the full form of her name made her almost choke on air as she began to realize the scale of the disaster. the air between you grew heavy and thick, preventing either of you from breathing properly.

"baby, i…" she takes a step forward, as if trying to reach you, but you just move, sinking further into the soft cushions of the couch. you were disgusted. disgusted by her, by yourself, by this woman whose face you saw for the first time. a woman who turned out to be better if your girlfriend decided that kissing her was something that would bring her pleasure. no matter how much you loved her, it was only her choice and her decision. only her responsibility.

the thought of her touch chokes. a few hours ago, you wanted nothing more than to hold her again, to feel the warmth of her body warming your eternally freezing limbs, but now? now you're afraid that if her skin refuses to touch yours, you'll break up. forgive her. let her fix everything.

but there is no point in that when she's already broken your heart.

"i'm so sorry my love, i didn't know what i was doing.." she tries to justify herself, but you won't let her. you don't want to hear anything else, just because you know that every next word spoken with such tenderness will crush your heart even more. "billie. please, shut up. just stop talking."

you stand up from the couch abruptly, too abruptly for your usual behavior, making billie flinch.

"this is the end. we're done. i don't wanna hear your excuses."

your words are dripping with venom. or rather, you make them sound like that, just so she won't be tempted to continue apologizing. just because you know that eventually the tears will break through, flowing like a river down your cheeks and you'll find yourself in her arms, drowning in the tenderness of her words and the caress of her touch. you give in to the way her strong arms hold your trembling body, not allowing you to move an inch.

"i love you" she whispers. desperately. tears pool in the corners of her eyes.

"i love you too. that's the problem"

౨ৎ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworl

[obeymeluv]

Kalim's family tradition of seeing a fortune-teller before introducing the partner leaves him with concerns when she says something comforting and cryptic about your future with him.

There was a tradition in the Al-Asim family where a fortune-teller must be consulted prior to bringing a partner to see the family for the first time. It was a highly regarded practice meant to see the compatibility of the couple and how it might impact the family. Rumor had it that an Al-Asim had been saved long, long ago by a fortune-teller and promised them a life without want in return. Kalim sat nervously, swallowing thickly as the swathed woman lit her incense and rearranged her trinkets.

Jamil stood guard outside the tent, as did several other men loyal to the family. Kalim knew he was safe; he was more scared of what she may have to say. Divinatory magic was her family's specialty and she had a fantastic record. Thus far she'd correctly predicted the gender of six of his siblings, which suitors would come for his older sister, and the night his father would've been successfully poisoned (if not for her dream and intervention).

He couldn't imagine a life without you! What could she possibly have to say?

Sure, you weren't far along in your relationship but Kalim knew in his heart that he didn't want anyone else. For him, the sun rose and set in your eyes. The relationship was pretty serious, given Jamil's threats to strangle him if he talked about you anymore than he already talked to you.

"Be not afraid, little Al-Asim," she smiled, talking in their shared tongue, "I see a very happy life for you."

Kalim jumped, snapping to alertness. He didn't realize he'd zoned out staring at the smoke winding up from the incense sticks. She hummed and swirled her hands around the giant crystal ball in front of her, inhaling the smoke and blowing it over the sphere. Some of his siblings warned him that she would describe the partner--with scary accuracy; she could even tell him what toe his brother-in-law had a freckle on!--before giving the vision.

She correctly guessed the color of your skin and quoted his favorite way to describe your eyes. Kalim physically shivered; apologizing hastily soon after. His cheeks were a fierce pink that made her chuckle. "For all your privilege, the greatest one is to have them as your spouse. They will nurture your independence as much as you desire to coddle them for all of their suffering. You will become a great leader and they will guide your hand. The foundation of your dynasty is made with mud and tears but it will support something beautiful and prosperous."

That was it? It was over? She dismissed him sweetly and he stumbled out, dazed and deep in thought.

Why would there be tears? Happy tears, he hoped! You and Kalim had never fought, much less raised your voices at each other! He didn't know his brows were knit with concern until Jamil placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Kalim blew out a heavy sigh, feeling himself relax at the touch he didn't know he needed.

"Good?" Jamil's brow quirked with curiosity. Per the tradition, Kalim could not share the fortune-teller's words with anyone. It had to unfold as she described. She would tell his parents and things would go from there. Worry gnawed at him, twisting his guts into knots as he realized not even you could know.

"Yeah," Kalim mumbled. That was a bit slow for Jamil's liking. Kalim wouldn't look at him directly and was twisting the biggest earring in his left ear. He was nervous about something, Jamil observed.

"Then you have a week to enjoy. Be happy." Jamil patted him on the back as they made their way to the main house.

As expected, his parents were thrilled with the news. His mother was conflicted with the idea of her little one blossoming into a man, of course, but could not deny she was intrigued by a 'beautiful and prosperous dynasty'. How many grandkids was that, exactly? Maybe she could pull the fortune-teller aside and ask her in private! Kalim had aspirations of a big family, like his father, so her imagination was running wild.

Kalim's heart squeezed at his father's large, comforting hand. The half-hug pressing him to the reassuring belly was also nice. "Don't fret over the tears, my son. Tears are like rain in the desert, they help things grow."

"No relationship is perfect, anyways!" his sister waves her hand in the air, "everyone screams and cries at some point!"

"For different reasons!" his brother cackled, dodging two of her slaps. She swung a silk pillow with gold threads and teardrop rubies hanging from the corners. He yelped when the rubies smacked him, complaining to their mother.

"It will be fine!" his mother swooped down to pinch his cheeks. Her perfume swirled around him and Kalim couldn't help but break out into a smile. "You've sunshine in your soul, my love, and people will always want the light. Don't worry!"

"Are they staying for the whole break?" his sister asked, voice curious and sweet as she maintained eye contact with her cowering brother, pillow poised for another blow.

"That's the plan!" Kalim smiled.

His sister gave a squeal that made them both cringe. "I have so many ideas! I have to make some calls!"

The plan was for Kalim to spend the night with you in Ramshackle, give you a quick run-through of his siblings, and bring you to his home in the Scalding Sands in the morning. You were the first person he'd ever brought home on break and it was a very big deal.

He steps through the mirror with kisses from his mother and siblings still tingling on his skin. Kalim loves his family dearly but he's happy all of the pressure, worry, and excitement is on the other side of the mirror. The magic crackles over the surface, dies, and becomes a still pool. It's not until Jamil nudges him gently with one of the bags that Kalim realizes he was lost in his own reflection.

His own thoughts.

Most of the groceries and luxuries are restocks for his and Jamil's room in Scarabia but there's a few things for you. Kalim always liked to bring gifts over when he visited even though you've told him a million times that he was the gift. Jamil's threatening the boundaries of his role as a watchful servant to house Al-Asim when he tells Kalim to go straight to you and that he'll come to Ramshackle in an hour. It's a dangerous game they play, Kalim constantly overanalyzing the technicalities of what he can get away with to give Jamil some semblance of freedom and him, his independence, but as long as neither one of them say anything it works.

The white-haired boy chuckles to himself as he realizes he has, in fact, become more independent since knowing you. Sure NRC is protected with charms and enchantments but that still counts, right? He knocks on your door and you answer in your comfy clothes. Kalim feels his heart flutter and melt; you may have holes in the hem of your shirt and your pants are slightly too big because they're from a thrift shop but it doesn't take away from how beautiful you are.

In this moment he thinks his mother is wrong. You must be the sun and he, a sunflower, because he's always looking in your direction. There is nowhere he wants to be but with you and he is ever-reaching. You're chastising him about bringing gifts--again!--but he doesn't hear it. The second you arms circle around him, warm and soft, all of his senses fall away except for the one that registers your touch.

It's better than any massage he's ever gotten. It's as if his soul is a precious infant and you are the ultimate protection. The best comfort.

You manage to get him out of the doorway and Kalim laughs as you become an awkward tangle of limbs. He separates just long enough to set up the treats and show you the gifts--a silk pillow, a body scrub, a hair mask, and another set of sleepwear--before fishing out the little cards he'd made.

It's a huge stack! He sees your wide eyes and giggles as he pulls you against him, rubbing your arm comfortingly. "I have a lot of siblings, remember?"

"There's over thirty!"

"I have a lot of siblings," he repeats, cheeks heating up.

Jamil uses one of the three spare keys you made and finds you curled together, Kalim snoring quietly in the crook of your neck. The floorboard creaks under his foot and your eyes snap open. He sees the hand in Kalim's hair flinch but he doesn't move. Kalim's handmade family cards are all over the small coffee table, as are some half-eaten snacks. "Get ready," he whispers to you, "it's going to be an experience."

Jamil's words left you not knowing what to expect but you certainly couldn't predict the towering, ornate palace or the sheer number of white-haired people ready to drown you in the impressive entryway. Hands pulled you from all directions, hugs coming two at a time. You tried to turn your head at the feel of someone touching you hair but couldn't. Someone grabbed your face and you found yourself staring into Mrs. Al-Asim's eyes. "My grandchildren will be lucky to have such eyes!" she teased.

Kalim grabs you now, laughing nervously as he weaves through the siblings like it's nothing. You take a relieved breath and look back on the crowd. They've settled but you can definitely see where Kalim gets his excited puppy look. He introduces you to his mother and father first, breaking his siblings up into two groups: those older than him and those younger than him. One of his siblings is a literal toddler and it makes you wonder how old Mrs. Al-Asim is because she's as youthful and exuberant as Kalim!

Flawless, really. Good genes!

Said toddler has been watching everyone come up and hug you or shake your hand. He waddles up to you and plops himself down on your foot, hugging your leg. One of the older girls scoops him up as he giggles, another yanking you away and down a series of massive halls. Kalim tries to take you back but one of the girls ushering you along calls something out in their language and the kids swarm him.

"That's a dirty trick and you know it!" Kalim yells.

The room you spill into is just as massive as any other part of the manor. You take in the gold thread on the carpet, the expensive-looking vases, and nearly faint at a walk-in closet that looks big enough to fit the first floor of Ramshackle in it.

You're beginning to understand what Jamil said about the whole thing being 'an experience'. It was just luxury upon luxury with the Al-Asims! Some of the girls were holding up pre-made outfits, telling you not to be discouraged because you would have a custom outfit within a few hours. Others were holding rolls of uncut fabrics under your chin at the advice of a...color analyst? Someone is measuring your waist and it makes you flinch.

You can't give it much thought after one of the sisters ask if you're a 'jewelry person' and they start bickering about what would suit you. You can't even begin to imagine how much what they're holding costs! It feels like you're in there for hours but you come out with a casual outfit, one for swimming, one for shopping, one for the dinner party, and a different style of sleepwear you'd never seen before. There's more to come, they promise, but this is decent enough to start. Stunned by the opulence and generosity, they drag you back through the halls to show you off.

Your heart is fit to burst with how welcoming the Al-Asims are. It makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Kalim looks like he wants to cry, too. His mother and father assure your safety, thank you for being so precious to Kalim, and welcome you into their culture with the wish that you embrace it. The kids promise to teach you all kinds of words and it makes you laugh.

The outfit is colorful and you're glad it covers you because you'd probably burn to a crisp otherwise. You walk over to Kalim, trying not to stumble in the shoes as you get used to the feel of things breezing and jingling around you. He catches you and his eyes start to sparkle with tears again. "Did I step on your toe?" you joke.

"You look so pretty, hayati!" he sniffles like he can stop the tears from slipping down his face. Kalim is always daydreaming of your future together but something about the realness of you being in his arms, wearing traditional Scalding Sand garb, hits his tender heart hard.

"Come on now, stop crying. We can't do anything fun if you're crying!" you dab at his eyes with a flowy sleeve and he leans into you.

"That's one of our words!" one of the kids points at Kalim. "Do you know what that means?"

"My life," you reply, taking Kalim in your arms like you have a million times before. Every time he's ever said it, actually.

One of his brothers walks by and teases him about teaching you sweet nothings. Kalim glares at him from your shoulder, pouting. He points at his brother and yells something. The kids take off after him. "I told them he's 'it' for the next round of tag!" Kalim beams, satisfied with himself.

Your first day in the Scalding Sands is an innocent one of meeting family, playing games, and having a delicious dinner that isn't unlike one of the parties at Scarabia. Kalim is by your side at every opportunity. Some of his younger siblings try to feed you and teach your how to eat the food, ignoring Kalim as he politely explains you're big enough to feed yourself. He's trying to keep them from choking you with food but can't deny that you look adorable with your cheeks packed like a squirrel.

The party winds down and you fall into your usual habit of picking up everything. Jamil hisses at you to stop but you ignore him. Kalim saves the moment by swooping in to collect things, too. It's clear the help is stunned and trying not to look too surprised in front of his parents. "Ah, I see," his mother laughs over her glass, "your sanadi."

Kalim whines, guiding you hurriedly to the kitchen, clicking his tongue at you before you take a wrong turn. He removes his bracelets and gives you gloves to wear, putting on a pair of his own soon after. It's not until you're wrist deep and washing the dishes that you ask what the new word meant.

"'Sanadi' means backbone." he blushes, suddenly very interested in the custom plates, "it's a term of endearment in the Scalding Sands."

"I like it," you smile at him.

Your first night in the massive palace is odd. You know you're in one of the most protected places in the world but it's new and the shadows and sounds make you nervous. Trying to focus on the obscenely soft pillows and comfy sheets help a little. You're almost asleep when a noise outside the window draws your attention. A little wary, you open the window.

"Want a preview before the girls run you all over the Sands tomorrow?" Kalim offers you his hand, carpet fluttering patiently underneath him.

"Sure. Couldn't sleep anyways," you shrug. He secures your hands, body over yours to protect you from the windchill as he points out details in the palace before telling carpet how to get past the garden and gates without being seen. Clearly he's snuck out enough for people to look skyward now and then.

Kalim's only fifteen minutes into describing the bazaar when he realizes you're asleep. He gives a breathy laugh, tugging gently on one of carpet's tassels to make him head back to the palace. Carpet glides smoothly into the still-open window of the guest room, rolling you back into the sheets as he flops onto a nearby chair. Kalim locks the window back and tiptoes to the bed, snuggling in beside you.

He doesn't know how long you slept, but it was long enough for people to look for him and realize he's not in his own bed. The door to your room bursts open, a chorus of squeaky 'Sanadi!'s pouring in with little feet. Kalim shrieks like he's being drowned in cold water when something much bigger jumps on the bed and it lurches your bodies, the tiny ones collapsing all over you with giggles. Crisp smacks echo in the room, Kalim tangled in the sheets and fighting for his life as his sister yells. You try to cover Kalim but the kids dive on you and press into you, seeking protection from the shoe's rage.

Kalim falls out of the sheets like he's just escaped a cocoon and can't use his legs. Blind with sleep, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, he's piloted by the primordial fear of being a younger sibling at the mercy of an older one. He makes it around the door and down the hall.

You're allowed to dress yourself but the sisters insist on fussing and fawning over you, giving you this or taking away that before summoning bodyguards to escort you to...wherever they want, really.

It's hard for you to process that they can just do whatever they want at the drop of the hat. They don't have to panic crunch numbers or scour every possible inch of Ramshackle for a thaumark and you're stunned. You don't know why you are, but you are. The girls are sweet but they have no concept of reservations and they don't recognize their own entitlement--you think--because people are just as happy to cater to them as they are to ask.

You're taken to a very expensive, insanely exclusive spa that you've heard Vil mention before. No appointment needed, of course. Staff just seemed to materialize and rooms were just conveniently there. The girls are established here and the employees are familiar with their skin and favorites but you're a new face.

Your stomach clenches nervously and you wonder if they're judging you. Do they see a blank check or someone who looks out of place in the clothes you're wearing?

When they're given permission to charge the account but 'be reasonable' you wonder what reasonable is to an Al-Asim. You can't help the smile that cracks your lips when you think of Kalim and his many parades and parties. He thinks those are reasonable and they're quite extravagant.

'Reasonable' is a skin analysis and so many treatments--special steam, cleanser, toners, mask packs, funny lights, weird tools--in the comfiest bed-like table that you're not even sure you were awake for half of it. You're amazed by what you see in the mirror. You don't see someone who's fought overblots or eaten something questionable to keep from starving.

Dazed and ethereal, you're escorted to the next experience. You and the girls spend the day in the spa, this time in several soaking pools before finishing in a mud pack-body wrap combo. You're introduced to several native drinks and get some sort of special infusion. Whatever it is, the girls swear by it.

You're surprised Kalim recognizes you when you get back to the Al-Asim home. He sweeps you up and gives a surprised peep about how you smell and how soft you are. The embrace is short-lived because you're being dragged away to change for dinner. He makes up for lost time by sitting next to you and sneaking into your room again.

It's cute and a little harder than the night before. Some of his siblings stayed up to make sure he didn't just walk in. When you have that many siblings, you always have more than one plan. You and Kalim have to shush each other at times but you're happy to tell him about your day.

He's just as happy to listen. His heart relaxes when he realizes you had a mud bath and you're doing your best not to ugly cry because you feel clean and pampered and had a day where you didn't have to worry about anything.

That means everything came true and it's smooth sailing, right? Everything she said came true?

He kisses your tears away and lets the emotions dwindle into exhaustion, holding you close.

The rest of the week is a balance of playing with Kalim's siblings, finding fun things to do around the main house--or having them brought to the main house--and going out into public with a crazy amount of guards. The third day was a personal parade of animals not unlike a standard Scarabia party; Kalim and his siblings translated how to hold, care for, and feed them. You got to ride some of them!

You spent the fourth day taking in the local sights with Kalim, Jamil, and his sister. It was nice to get away from the splurging whirlwind of the Al-Asim girls and just be casual in the browsing. For all his wealth, Kalim blended seamlessly with the interesting hole-in-the-wall spots others seemed oblivious to. It was an interesting side of him.

Kalim promised the last day would be for you and him and he was keeping his word. You took off on carpet at first light, watching life trickle into the bazaar. He'd begged the kitchen staff for several baskets and you were enjoying a simple morning of people-watching and sharing food. When you were finished eating, he found someone who looked like they could use the rest of the food. Carpet tucked safely under his arm, Kalim took you to a shop you'd passed over yesterday.

"I want to get matching rings," he smiled.

Back in the world you came from, custom jewelry would take a week or more. In Twisted Wonderland you guessed magic made the process near-instantaneous. Or maybe they just had multiple hands on it since it was a request from an Al-Asim. You wouldn't be surprised if they had a file for the Al-Asims given how much jewelry they wore.

The ring was beautiful. It was a thin, elegant, curving design that looked like a blooming flower with a ruby in the middle. It reminded you of Kalim's eyes. Kalim's ring shared the curving, elegant design, but his flower hadn't bloomed; the petals were flush against the jewel and almost crown-like. He'd just paid when the door to the shop burst open.

Neither of you were surprised. You half-expected it to be Jamil. Or one of his siblings.

You were both wrong. Very wrong.

You had no idea who these people were or what they wanted. Had they been watching you since yesterday? Earlier in the week? They rushed you and you thanked the Seven that they didn't immediately draw their magi-pens. It gave you the time to sock one of them.

There was a brief moment of stillness when they saw his head snap back. Four strangers realized they didn't know you or what you were capable of. Before they realized you didn't have a magi-pen, you kicked one as hard as you could in the knee. He buckled, sinking enough for you to punch him hard in the stomach.

You felt one of Kalim's arms wrap around your middle, yanking you back to his chest. He thrust his magi-pen forward and you held your breath. Kalim was far more valuable without a scratch or burn.

And they assumed you were valuable to Kalim. They were right. Kalim was so focused on anticipating a spell, on getting his protections ready, that he didn't anticipate a physical attack. He started sliding across the shop floor when they got the idea to rip you away.

It took three of them but Kalim wasn't done yet. He wasn't beaten. They escape in an uncoordinated stumble and Kalim's hot on their heels, taking to the skies and firing off spells from carpet. They fire back but between trying to keep you from running and aiming up at a moving target, he has the advantage.

Until they run through the bazaar, of course. There's so many people now that he struggles to keep his eyes on you. He almost loses you once or twice but he can hear you yelling. You call his name and he'll always hear it.

Kalim's not surprised they managed to sneak out of the bazaar into somewhere semi-abandoned. The bazaar wasn't always a bazaar; it used to be a small community. Pockets of old homes remained. People sold them for ample compensation but vendors found them off the beaten path and not as lucrative so they sat, unused.

A spell caught him by surprise, carpet veering sharply and almost throwing him off. Kalim patted his little singed tassel, peeking over the fringe to fire off a spell of his own. Carpet wove through the air, doing his best to keep Kalim safe but let him see through broken windows and open entryways. His goal was to confuse them, have all the attention on him and give you time to escape.

Kalim saw you bolt out of the home and gave carpet a tug. You were halfway to carpet, kicking up sand, when the men charged out. The jewel in his pen was starting to darken but Kalim knew he wasn't at his limit. Something in him snapped; he saw red when those men dove atop you like rabid dogs.

"Respite in the scalding sands, a neverending party. Dance! Sing! Oasis Maker!"

The sky turned dark and ominous in an instant, a cool shadow stretching over the sand. The rumble echoed Kalim's brewing rage. With a hair-raising crack, the rain poured out in a fierce deluge. It was icy, heavy, and stung like a whip. Carpet sagged under the weight of the water; Kalim guided him down carefully, squinting against the downpour to find you.

Why weren't the firing off spells? Were their clothes too heavy? Did it hurt too much to move? Could they not see? Kalim's suspicions were high and he could only assume that any grass magic wasn't strong enough to cut the water and fire was pointless.

He took advantage of the situation and fired off a few smaller water spells. They were boosted by Oasis Maker. It almost felt wrong, knocking them around like toys, but he didn't care. Oasis Maker dwindled to a drizzle, then stopped, when he saw you trying to crawl through the mud.

He couldn't help but laugh as the fortune-teller's words finally made sense. It was weird to have his face half-numb from icy rain and still be able to feel his tears. It took effort, but he managed to pull you out of the mud with a wet squelch! The two of you sat, stunned and freezing, just looking at each other for a moment.

He wiped water and mud off of you. You immediately grabbed his pen and started checking his hands. "You feel okay? You're not going to overblot?!"

"I'm fine, sanadi. As long as you're fine, I'm fine." Kalim breathed, resting his lips against your forehead.

He composes himself and looked at how utterly stuck the men are in the mud. Some of them probably need to be observed for drowning; they probably inhaled enough water to feel like they were drowning. Serves them right, Kalim thinks as his nose turns up in a sneer. Carpet does as Kalim wishes, carrying him to the nearest guard to report the event.

Kalim picks mud out of your ring and cleans it with his drenched shirt as carpet takes you back to the main house. There's no way in hell anyone will let you bathe together but he can dream.

He can also dream that he won't get his ear pulled off. Kalim was surprised to feel his father's warm, firm hand on his ear after he stepped onto Al-Asim property. Usually it was his mother's. Hissing through his teeth, Kalim risks a look back to see you getting swarmed and dragged by his sisters and mother. There's multiple people shouting in a language you're beginning to understand but you don't need to know anything to know you're in trouble.

"Welcome to the family," Jamil mumbles under his breath as he takes instruction from Mrs. Al-Asim to fetch Kalim some dry clothes.

[moony-n-sun]

Endgame Couples parallels

"Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern"

The accident : Philip & Lukas

Strange! They are directly paralleling a friendship in which, one is a repressed gay and the other already accepted he was. Two "friends" who overcame homophobia and ended up together in the end. What an accident! Doesn't mean that will be the case for Mike and Will right...

The coincidence : Ron & Hermione

Hmm ok. We know HP2 was on the movie inspo board for st4. So Mike's arrival at the airport is an obvious parallel to Hermione coming back from the Hospital Wing. Hermione has no problem hugging Harry (who we expect her to end up with). But with Ron, she is unable to show him the same affection without making it awkward. Even though she shouldn't have any reason to feel this way. Just like Mike should not feel awkward about hugging his best friend. Unless, like El suggests, "he is acting weird [because] there is someone he likes".

Oh and coincidence! At the very last movie, Ron and Hermione stop repressing their feelings for each other and kiss. But nah, it's just a coincidence, right...

The pattern : Amy and Laurie

Okay if you've watched Little Women you know the Amy-Laurie-Jo love triangle reeks of Will-Mike-El.

Jo/El : The first love interest, the bold woman on a journey of self-discovery and in search of independence. Wants to be free of her need for male validation and become her own person.

Laurie/Mike : The man who feels so much love but doesn't yet realize he's putting Jo/El on a pedestal. Has a dramatic love confession moment, but because he idolizes the girl instead of truly loving her, it comes across as desperate and pleading. He doesn't yet realize his love is misplaced and his heart actually belongs to the girl's sibling.

Amy/Will : The girl's sibling (🤭). The painter, the yearner, has loved Laurie/Mike for so long but has resigned to him never loving them back. Despite this unconditional love, doesn't fear putting Laurie/Mike in his place because in this dynamic, they are on equal ground.

ST writers have confirmed they used Little Women as inspo, and there are scenes supporting this as well.

If you couldn't tell by now, Amy and Laurie end up together. Except this time, it's neither an accident nor a coincidence. This is a pattern. The message is very very clear. This emotional turmoil is going to pay off. Will and Mike aren't repressing their feelings and suffering for nothing.

Just like all these other couples, they will end up together.

[avelera]

(Meta) The Tragedy of Working for "The Family Business" in Arcane

I recently wrote some meta about how one contributor to Jayce's suicide attempt in Arcane 1.02 was the realization that his only obvious path forward in life after his humiliating trial and expulsion from the Academy was to go into the family business of the Talis hammer factory, and how he chose death over that because such a life would represent a spiritual death of the soul for him, a fate literally worse than death.

That got me thinking about how we have several characters in Arcane who are fighting against working for "the family business" that is, living up to the expectations and desires of their parents. My immediate temptation is to say that Arcane takes the pretty firm stance that it's better to pursue your own dreams but then I stopped myself because no, it's much more nuanced than that.

I'm exploring this as someone whose family also has a family business that I didn't join, who had dreams of artistic pursuits that my family actively discouraged, so this is a very personal topic for me that I feel I can lend some insight to.

Whether or not it's the right thing to "join the family business" and live up to the expectations of the older generation is an active and complex dialogue that goes on within Arcane.

So let's go through the characters and how they reflect on this theme:

Jayce Talis: Just because he's top of mind for me. I believe it's heavily implied that Jayce's dream was to pursue magic and Hextech. Losing access to Hextech and having no choice but to join the family business was a fate worse than death for him, he actively chose suicide instead. And I believe we have hints that Ximena and his late father wanted that for him (see the childhood picture of Jayce and his father, with Jayce proudly holding up the hammer is father almost certainly helped him forge).

But we have some nuance to the discussion of "Was it the right thing?" for him to go into Hextech instead, since it's basically a curse that brought ruin and near-destruction to the world. That said, when Hextech succeeded, all the voices that wanted Jayce to join the family business were silenced and all supported Hextech enthusiastically, including his mother. So while their encouragement of him joining the family business instead of working on his dream might have averted many tragedies, it's not why anyone except Heimerdinger wanted him to do it.

Caitlyn Kiramman: This isn't subtext, this is text. Caitlyn wanted to be a detective, her mother wanted her to be a politician and is clearly uncomfortable even as far back as the shooting competition that Caitlyn wins that her daughter is so adept at shooting instead of diplomacy.

Caitlyn's dictator arc is even directly tied to the creators as a phase of her trying to live up to what her mother would have wanted (including dating nice "girl next door" Maddie instead of undercity dweller and ex-con Vi that both her parents seemed to actively dislike). Caitlyn while mourning her mother keenly feels all the disagreements they once had over her choices in life, and falls to her lowest point spiritually, morally, emotionally, etc. when trying to live up to her image of what her mother wanted for her.

Vi coming back into her life literally gives her the courage to break away from this horrible place where she's found herself, becoming this person she doesn't want to be. Because it's all well and good to say everyone should forge their own path, but it's almost impossible to do without someone who also believes in you and the version of you that you want to be.

Mel Medarda: Insofar as Mel is a tragic tale, which I believe she is, her tragedy is as a child of privilege who never breaks away to pursue her own dreams. I think the tragedies of privilege often, understandably, get overlooked in discussions of fiction but Mel plays out that tragedy writ large. And I don't just mean this from the perspective of the "poor little rich girl" I mean being from privilege can become its own cage. It can dampen ambition, lock one into self-doubt that you can make it on your own without the benefits that privilege gave, it can lead to incredible self-doubt and constant self-measuring against the previous generation because of what they left for you to inherit and to live up to.

Mel is not happy when she returns to Noxus as the new Head of House Medarda. She got everything she wanted in S1, to be recognized by her family and to ascend as a Medarda after her banishment, and nothing she needed. What could Mel have accomplished if she wasn't trying to be a Medarda, or now with or without the magic her mother literally instilled in her veins as a birthright? She may never know. Mel could have been an artist, a spy, an inventor, a diplomat, she showed incredibly aptitude at all these skills but in the end, she just works for the family business.

But Mel doesn't have anyone, not Jayce, not Elora, not her family, to believe in her vision for herself at the end. Instead, she has become the family business.

Jinx: Jinx in S1 is constantly hemmed in and restricted by Silco's desire for her to take over the family business, to help build his weapons, to help him create Zaun. Stupid joke that it is, Sevika confronts her with the fact that she could assume the family business of raising Zaun from the ashes in S2, exactly as Silco wanted. It's one of the more complex instances of "Would it be better if she did, or if she didn't?"

I think the show comes down on, no, it's better for Jinx to go off an live her own life. Sevika, for whom this isn't the family business, is the better steward of Zaun's future going forward. She did the work. She's done the thinking. She's stood by the cause through thick and thin. She believes in it. It's Sevika who should be on the Council.

It's also interesting to contrast Jinx with alternate universe Powder, who also feels trapped by family expectations. Who is constantly reminded she could be doing more. Ironically, that Powder seems to want to join the family business and live behind the bar, but it is clear that it's stifling her true potential, and her loving fathers Vander and Silco in a happier world try to point that out to her.

But it takes Ekko from the main universe believing in her for her to begin to forge her own path.

Viktor: Viktor has no family business to live up to. At most, we have a bit of word of god meta that his parents helped smuggle him into the Academy when they recognize his potential. We have a little bit of Singed/Dr. Revek as a father figure which could represent a family business and if so, it's a tragedy for Viktor when he gives in and decides to "join the family business" and go along with Singed's view of the world.

That said, Viktor's lack of connections, patronage, or family is what helps him inspire Jayce and save his life. Viktor's lack of family business to join is why he had to forge his own path. He points this out to Jayce, who is clearly inspired while at his lowest point. Jayce realizes as a result of this conversation that others have done more than him with less, that his life isn't over because he lost his privileges. That all he really needs is himself or, rather, himself and just one person who believes in him. It's no understatement to say that from that point on, Jayce has given this new life, this like Viktor gave back to him, to Viktor and their shared dream. Viktor is all the family he needs now.

And, likewise, Jayce is the vote of confidence that Viktor needs to break free of his own tragic spiral, one encouraged and egged on by Singed and his expectations. It takes Jayce believing in the better version of Viktor to pull him back to become the person he wanted to be again, in a time paradox loop that is still making me insane.

TL;DR So really, if I must say that Arcane has a thesis, it's that you're better of pursuing your own path but it's difficult, nearly impossible to do, without at least one other person who believes in you.

[alwaysless]

I love the progress the acoleetes are making in their relationship in the last chapters: Ada risks her life for Annabel, Prospero says bluntly that his conscience does not allow him to leave Montresor alone, Prospero rushes to Ada's aid without a moment's hesitation. It's great, I'm really glad to see them like this. But I'm worried that in contrast misfits` relationship might regress.

They already had two bones of contention last season: the escape plan and the conflict between Lenore and Duke, which they never solved properly. In fact, I think Duke is now strongly reconsidering his friendship with Lenore. In the last chapters of the first season, he behaved strangely. The scene where they discuss Lenore's curse on the balcony, and she gives him the letter... is pretty creepy. The atmosphere is extremely tense, and the last time Duke and Lenore were on the balcony together, he literally tried to kill her wife. And this frame.

The threshold splits them exactly in the middle. I don't like it, I really don't like it.

When they discuss her escape plan, Duke stays silent until the last moment, until Lenore asks him directly, and even then he hesitates at first, he doesn't answer her right away, although in the end he expresses absolute support.

But why? Duke was Lenore's most active supporter in the first half of the season, always easily accepting her reckless antics and taking part in it himself. He liked their role as rebellious troublemakers. However, now his enthusiasm has noticeably dried up. He's changed now. He's doubtful.

I think this may be due to the fact that he recalled his death. It was hardly an accident. Apparently, it was staged by his... stage companion, I suppose. Duke was killed by someone he probably trusted, with whom he had played a lot of shows. He was betrayed. And now, quite predictably, he may have trust issues. Especially after the failed assassination attempt, when Duke realized that his methods could be very different from Lenore`s and she was not exactly the kind of leader who shared his values.

By the way, yes, let's talk about leadership among the misfits. Do you remember this scene?

The misfits are waiting for Lenore's opinion on their hideout, her voice is decisive, and although she does not understand why, she accept the assigned role of leader.

Now let's take a look here. Does that ring a bell?

Now Duke's opinion becomes decisive. They're all waiting for him to say something. Including Lenore. Of course, they were always equal for her, and the role of leader was only a formality, but from the point of view of the story composition, this is a noticeable shift in dynamics, and I'm worried about what it will lead to.

I'm not saying that Duke will go up against Lenore, but it would definitely be interesting. It would break my heart, but I would take a look. Because let's be honest: Lenore trusts these people more than she should in a survival game. She's known them for less than a week. Her tendency to see the best in people and give them a chance just has to play a cruel joke with her sooner or later, especially under the circumstances.

If the acoleetes are really starting to get closer, then the misfits, on the contrary, are dangerously close to split. That would be a curious inversion.

[kaibutsushidousha]

What are your thoughts on orihime?

Ichigo's little group of friends exist to be basis of Bleach's arcs. The Soul Society arc is envisioned as Rukia's arc, which is a no-brainer because Rukia is a Shinigami. The Lost Agent is envisioned as Chad's arc, and even if it fails that role, the choice is understandable due to Chad being a Fullbringer. The Blood War is envisioned as Uryuu's arc, obvious again because Uryuu is a Quincy. But Orihime is a Fullbringer, so realizing what makes her fit at the center of the Arrancar arc requires a little more thought.

Well, I'd say the answer can be found about as early as possible. Orihime simply isn't like any other character in the good side. A whole lot of characters in Bleach have tragic pasts, but only Orihime is shown having a tragic present. The other Karakura people have comfortable houses with providing families. The Seireitei is a high class place directly contrasted with the poor Rukongai. The Visored and Xcution are united communities. Unclear about the Quincies in Silbern because we never the status quo there before the times of war.

Meanwhile, Orihime lives alone thanks to cutting ties with her parents at age 4 and losing her brother at age 12. She survives out of part-time jobs and financial support from distant relatives who determine how much money she gets based on her grades. The status quo of Bleach is pretty rough on her, and if I'm not forgetting anyone, her alone. She's doing what she can to survive under a constant threat of hunger, which is something Bleach otherwise only portrays as the lifestyle of a Hollow. I'll get back to this later.

The point here is that Orihime's life sucks. But that's not a thing that ever shows. Orihime in public is just a silly airhead constantly presented as the most cheerful person around. Her screentime in normal school situations is marked by her filtering her unpleasant reality with outlandish imagination. Her antics make her look really stupid, but we're shown that she isn't as she has 3rd best grades in their school. Intentional as her silliness is, she can't afford to be a bad student because that affects how much bread she gets to every month, as mentioned above.

And Bleach wastes no time explaining why she's like that. Still in volume 1, it's already established that Orihime spent her whole life being protected by others. First Sora, then Tatsuki, and now Ichigo. And because she grew up like this, her greatest wish is to not be a problem.

She let Sora bite her because life going on without him was being a problem to him and having to protect her was being a problem to Ichigo. She puts on a smile at school and keeps her conditions a secret to avoid being a problem to anyone who could care about her living situation. She let Ulquiorra take her because she didn't want to be a problem to anyone willing to fight Aizen for her sake. Her experience in Soul Society should have told her that this last one would backfire tremendously, but in her moment of weakness, she couldn't fight against her ingrained habit of avoiding being a burden.

Another key point of her early characterization is obviously her relationship with Ichigo. He was just a cool funny guy at first, until Sora's incident made him interesting, so she asked Tatsuki about him, and only really started caring after hearing about Masaki's death. This happens in a volume where she takes the cover and her opening poem is "If I were the rain [...] could I tie hearts together?". The rain is the symbol of Ichigo's grief, and Orihime falls for Ichigo by associating the lost of his mother with the loss of her brother. She connects best by relating to suffering, which shows later in the many, many, many times she's shown healing Arrancars after years practically living like a Hollow when in the world of the living.

This is kinda of a sudden change of topic, but things are sorta moving in chronological order here and the next big checkpoint is Orihime's first fight, so I'll conclude the talk about her position there and now talk about her powers.

Orihime gets Shun Shun Rikka, a Fullbring centered around rejection of events. Like Bleach abilities tend to do, this power goes incredibly well with Orihime's established characterization. Reality sucks for her but she keeps things by rejecting it through her filter of imagination. She can attack with this power, but it's best suited as a shield (preventing causing problems for others) or healing (making people forget their problems).

She then proceeds to not do much in Soul Society, then early into the Arrancar arc, she loses to Yammy and gets to negatively compare herself to Rukia, who did well in her first on-screen fight ever. Her feelings of uselessness pile up and compound into the 5 lives scenes, which as I already told you before, I consider the emotionally powerful dialogue Kubo has ever written. Not much to comment on it, the moment speaks for itself.

For Orihime, the bulk of the Arrancar arc is spent interacting with Ulquiorra. It's a really challenging experience for her because Ulquiorra has zero emotional depth. He was an ancient Hollow with no eyes, ears, nose, or mouth, being unable to perceive the outside world until Aizen broke his mask. Starrk, Barragan, and Grimmjow's backstories establish that Arrancars inherit experiences from their Hollow selves. Breaking their masks didn't change who they are. But Ulquiorra has no experiences because his Hollow life was spent entirely in the nothingness of himself.

Orihime has always been engaging with people through a smile-shaped web of lies, social conventions, and bravado, but Ulquiorra still haven't experienced humanity enough for that to work on him. He responds only to cold truths, so Orihime's typical conversation strategies are proven useless. It forces her to change her ways. She can only teach him about the heart by being honest and direct. Arrancars are about literal broken masks, but Orihime makes herself part of their story by having her metaphorical mask broken.

After that, we have the Lost Agent arc, which doesn't really take Orihime further (and doesn't really need to since Arrancar was her main focus arc) but does an amazing show of progress for post-Ulquiorra Orihime by introducing Riruka, a tsundere who hangs with Orihime a lot. While Riruka is as full of walls and bravado as Orihime originally was, this Orihime gets to be effortlessly vulnerable, recapping her horrible backstory to her new friend, being called creepy for her apparently fake smile, and clarifying that she actually can smile for real because she was already saved from her past.

The final arc doesn't do much with her aside from putting her in the final boss battle, so I guess I'll use this space to talk about how her progression in combat participation feels really well-paced. She goes from being squarely away from major action in Soul Society to not interfering with the fight but making a point to stay near the battle vs Grimmjow to start tactically throwing shields vs Ulquiorra to getting Ichigo actively ask for her help vs Ywhach.

Ok, that last is probably more about Ichigo himself having learned to ask for help 10 minutes ago after cringing at Uryuu's inability to rely on his friends and taking him as an antithesis model (pun intended).

But still, I love this kind of step-by-step character growth model, it reminds me of how Yugi and Atem's dynamic grew from Yugi unaware to Yugi aware to them starting to talk to them working together vs Pegasus to Yugi dueling alone to Yugi defeating Atem. Always great to see an author commit to a flowchart of development like that.

[dymttz]

Desire

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

NSFW, fingering, biting, marking. I have no idea what this is. English is not my language.

NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS

N/A I'm sorry, this sucked.

It had become a part of your days to get lost in fantastical thoughts about Lília. The fortune-teller witch could awaken in you a need for touch that you had never known before, or so you thought.You always felt embarrassed when Lília was explaining something simple. You'd have to ask her to repeat herself because you'd completely lose focus, staring at her red lips moving, imagining what it would be like to have them on your neck, leaving marks and whispering dirty words against your ear.

It was even harder during tarot lessons, with her skillful, ring-laden hands separating and organizing the cards. You'd end up pressing your thighs together without even realizing it, after imagining Lília's hand lightly squeezing your neck while the other expertly fucked you, her name escaping your mouth repeatedly like a fervent prayer.

Then came the day you were caught. Of course, Lília had suspected you all along. You were always staring too much when you thought she wasn't looking, stuttering for no reason, always getting lost in thought when she was too close. And of course, she enjoyed it. Her new hobby was watching you almost drool when she wore one of her low-cut dresses, blushing when she bent slightly to pick up a card that was far away on the table.

To try and control your nerves, which felt more like a pubescent teenager's, you decided to have some tea, one that Lília had recommended for its calming properties. However, it was almost an impossible mission to make the tea while Lília was around. You almost burned yourself when, suddenly, her chest touched your back because she apparently needed to grab a jar from the cabinet that was just above your head. One hand on your waist for support and her warm body pressed perfectly against yours made you choke audibly.

"Are you alright, dear? You seem a little...nervous," Lília whispered against your ear, almost a purr followed by a light, mocking chuckle at your dazed state. "Yes, I'm fine...I just let a little hot water spill." Your reply made Lília hum softly. You could feel the tip of her nose travel carelessly against your skin, the light movement making your body shiver, and it only gets worse when her hand subtly squeezes your waist, reminding you that she's still there, keeping you close. "You should be more careful when handling hot things, you might end up getting burned, baby."

Lília, I—" Before you could finish your sentence, Lília turned you around, making you face her, her body pressing you against the counter. "You must think you're very clever, don't you? You think I haven't noticed those eyes of yours on me all the time, staring at me like I'm a piece of meat?" She brings her free hand to your chin, forcing you to look at her directly. "You're acting like a hormonal teenager." She brings her face close to your neck, her nose tracing your sensitive skin again until it reaches your ear. "I should do something about that, shouldn't I?”

You almost let out a gasp as Lília's hand, resting on your waist, wandered down your belly and reached your right breast, squeezing it. Your eyes fluttered closed, your mind hazy with the situation, but you wouldn't complain. "Be a good girl and look at me when I'm talking to you," Lília practically growled, a clear warning in her tone. You were curious about what she would do if you didn't obey, but afraid of what she might do, you followed her command. "A good little girl. Let's see how well you take orders.”

Her hand caught your wrist, pulling you with her towards the armchair. She sat down, leaving you standing in front of her, looking you up and down in silence, which made you nervous. "Come sit, dear." She patted her thighs lightly. You sat on her lap without hesitation, feeling your panties ruined by the wetness that only increased in your core.

Lilia held your waist, one hand slipping and squeezing the firmness of your ass. You almost closed your eyes, but you know she won't like the disobedience, even after telling you to keep them open. Even so, you closed them and, in response, got a hard slap on your thigh. Your eyes widened in surprise, the slap making your skin burn. "You're going to be disobedient now, huh?" Lilia's hand went to the back of your head, pulling a handful of hair. It hurts, but all that comes out of your mouth is a moan with her name. "I don't like disobedient girls, my love.”

"Please, Lil- Mrs. Calderu." You beg pathetically, just wanting her fingers ruining you. By now, Lilia's eyes are already dark, the malice present in them making your insides contract. "Please, what?" She whispers, her hand dangerously close to where you need it most. "Please, touch me."

That's the cue for Lilia to seal her lips against yours in an urgent kiss, her soft tongue pushing against your lips seeking entrance, which you don't hesitate to give, letting out a moan as soon as she enters your mouth, your saliva mixing with the voracity of the kiss. You choke when you feel Lilia's hand touch your center through the ruined fabric of your panties, her middle finger tracing circles around your clitoris, making you gasp against her mouth. When your lips separate in search of air, her mouth attacks your neck. You feel her sucking marks that will definitely bruise, but you won't care to try to hide. She bites your pulse point, making you whimper in pain and pleasure.

"I barely touched you, but you're already soaked. Is it all because of me, dear?" You nod in agreement, but that makes her press hard on your sensitive clitoris as she continues to circle. "Don't be rude now, use your words, love." Your eyes water and you whimper. "Yes, Mrs. Calder-" Lilia's skillful fingers push your panties aside, entering your dripping entrance without warning. You choke, your head falling against her shoulder, muffled moans escaping your parted lips as the two fingers begin to move in and out of your cunt.

"If I knew you would whimper like that for me, I would have done this a long time ago." You can feel her chest vibrate with a laugh. Her hand grabbed your waist, starting to move you slowly against her fingers. Her mouth returns to your neck, you lean back, pressing yourself harder against her hand, making the fingers go deeper into you. Her kisses go down to your chest, covered by the fabric of your shirt, which she doesn't hesitate to enter with her hand to grab your breast, her index finger rolling against your sensitive nipple.

Your limit is when her finger presses back against your sensitive clit, your walls contracting against her fingers. She knows you’re close, so close. “Come on, cum on my fingers…” Her whisper seems to be the little push you need to finally explode into orgasm, your juices dripping and running down her hand. She smiles, feeling the way your walls tighten around her and the look of total pleasure on your face, before your head falls back against her shoulder, breathing heavily and a thin layer of sweat glistening against your skin from the exertion.

Lília carefully removes her fingers from inside you, making you whimper at the loss of contact. “You did so good, love.” She kisses your shoulder, her hand caressing your back. “Rest now, but know that I’m not finished with you yet.”

[salemoleander]

Chaos vs. Patronage: How Life Series winners grapple with skill disparity

As the Life Series has gone on and matured into more noticeable patterns, some winners have pivoted to a mentorship/support role to their chosen 'champion'/ a favored player.

Scott spent Limited Life as a duo with Martyn, and then joined a high-skill group in Secret Life that ultimately saw him sacrifice himself trying to get Gem the win. Pearl spent Secret Life with her stated goal being one of her teammates winning, pivoting to support Scar at the end when they'd died. Now in Wild Life, she has outright stated her intent to support Impulse to get the win. (Scar supporting Jimmy in Wild Life may also fit this pattern; we'll get to that.)

In contrast, winners Grian and Martyn² are not sticking to that single-minded attempt to get a player to win, whatever it takes. They will express support for teammates winning, but generally do not take actions that would worsen their own chances of winning/surviving to help a teammate. They aren't playing "meta", which here means putting all their resources into one person.

These two categories of behavior ultimately reflect the Winners' approaches to answering the question of how to balance disparate skill levels in the series cast. (Second half of writing + footnotes under cut.)

Grian has spent game after game altering mechanics & playing with randomization to try to level the playing field without directly intervening against specific players.³ Martyn is invested enough in the narrative/story that making less-than-optimal decisions isn't hard for him or atypical (this is the player who beelines for the Nether every single season).

It seems like Scott and Pearl realized they're very strong players and are interested in nerfing themselves more actively... but they still don't want to throw the match. The compromise there is to put their effort & skill towards helping another player achieve victory.

A case could be argued that Scar is moreso the former group by nature (he's similar to Martyn in his penchant for making entertainingly bad decisions that render nerfing unecessary). However, after witnessing multiple seasons of Scott & Pearl acting as mentors, seeing them compete head-to-head in the game he ultimately won, mentorship now seems like a normalized route to take once you're a winner.⁴

¹ Unsure if BigB in LimL counts? They were a duo, but Scott fomenting Martyn's win seems to be what kicked off Pearl's dedication to support another player.

² Cleo is a winner but they do not fit this analysis for a variety of reasons I don't want to get into. So I won't, bc this is a tumblr post & not an academic paper. Ignore that there are footnotes and an academic-ass title

³ Grian seeing Scott win: "Oh no I've created an unbalanced game. Ok lets randomly assign players together to try to balance things... why has RNG betrayed me?!" RNG does not stop betraying him btw. I have another post in draft about this but it's kind of nuts how dedicated Grian is to Not Rigging The Game Even A Little.

⁴ Incidentally imo this is what will force Grian in the next few games to either end the series, create dual winners/some other atypical win structure, or bust his ass trying to get a second win & break that taboo. Based on his game design so far, he can put up with a bit of interference, but ultimately will not abide "we all do schoolyard tradesies on who gets to win until everyone gets one".