#characters who have actual stories than just being a plot device

[matt-murdockk]

in a time where shows subtly danced around the dynamics between their protagonists, left everything up for interpretation, and didn't elaborate, explore, or have them express their feelings with each other, white collar had neal tell his deadbeat dad that peter is more of a dad to him than he ever was and i just think that's beautiful

[cripplecharacters]

Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters

[Plain Text: Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters]

While there is a glaring lack of intellectually disabled characters - except maybe big, physically strong, white men who can’t “tell right from wrong” or have a personality - in all sorts of media, specifically profoundly intellectually disabled characters are next to non-existent, with the existing ones being used more often as plot devices rather than portrayed as human beings.

This does make a degree (and not more) of sense considering that 85% of ID people have it mild, 10% moderate, 3.5% severe and only 1.5% has profound ID, the larger group inevitably gets more representation (which doesn’t make it good, but it does exist). However, it hopefully doesn’t need explaining that minorities deserve to be represented too (...and represented well), so this is what this post will be about.

Please don’t treat this as your only source on writing a character like this (even though I’m willing to bet it’s the only one like this, at least on tumblr), do your research and always check other sources.

Also, for clarity: intellectual disability isn't an umberalla term for "mental/brain disability". It's a specific, singular diagnosis that used to be known as "mental [r slur]". It's not the same as brain damage, autism, dementia, dyslexia, and anything else that's not specifically "intellectual disability". It's something that you are either born with or acquire early in life.

How do I Include Them in the Story?

[Plain Text: How do I include them in the story?]

A profoundly ID person will spend the majority of their time either at home or in some sort of care facility since they will require 24/7 help. The easiest role to put them in is probably a family member of another character. I've mentioned on this blog before that the "ID characters always end up as the annoying younger sibling" thing is overdone, but none of these necessarily have to be true for this suggestion to work (especially not the "annoying" part).

A non-ID character could have an intellectually disabled older sibling, twin, cousin, uncle/aunt, the sibling of a grandparent, etc. Seriously - a severely disabled person can be an adult, or even an elder. Just not as a parent, since a profoundly disabled person can't consent (a lot of ID people very much can, but this is the one disability where your level of functioning is baked into the exact diagnosis - profound ID comes with the inability to consent/understand the consequences enough to consent).

"They're a family member" is basically the easiest "excuse" to include a profoundly intellectually disabled in a story (and, as a bonus, you don't have to figure out how the other character would react to meeting them for the first time, since they probably knew each other for a long time already).

If your story isn't about the profoundly disabled character and instead just features them as a character, it would be much easier to not make the other character their primary caregiver. It's simply a ton of work and the character wouldn't have time for fighting dragons and whatnot - it'd be easier to have the abled character spend time with the disabled character at home (or care facility; you can very much visit someone in one) hanging out rather than actually doing the caregiving part.

Outside of a home and a care facility, there are also day care programs that some people might attend. This is the rarest solution out of the three mainly because of financial reasons, but also these resources aren’t as common for people who can’t walk, learn self-care, etc. Going to one takes time (the profoundly disabled person isn’t gonna walk there by themselves) and probably requires a specialized van (that you can bring a wheelchair in, which is incredibly expensive). Most day care programs are focused on people who are moderately or severely ID at most. One made for profoundly ID people would require 1:1 aides, which generally means the programs are much smaller for logistical reasons, but also even more expensive. For most people, too expensive without funding. Basically, this is an option, but you have to consider your character’s financial situation and/or what kind of financial support do disabled people get where they live.

Another way is having the disabled character in some sort of high position - in real life there were quite a few cases of profoundly and severely intellectually disabled royalty. Depending on the place and time there might have been pressure to not let the public see them, but this wasn't always the case. The biggest example of the latter was probably Emperor An of Jin (the first Jin, Eastern one) who was, as his title suggests, crowned at some point. He didn’t actually rule (his uncle did) but yes, you can have a severely disabled person as the head of a monarchy, it’s not without precedent.

In fiction you can do whatever you want anyway when it comes to ableism, you can have it be there, or you can have it not be there - and if it does exist then there are still different kinds of ableism you can portray that aren't the "literally killing-the-disabled-baby/hiding-them-in-some-dungeon level of eugenics" kind. Maybe a rich family who cares about their image would actually be unable to shut up about their kid to show how "saint-like" they are for caring for the disabled - it is unfortunately realistic, and can be a potential way to have the character exist in public, not ignore ableism, and also not go the aforementioned literally-just-murder route that writers usually do to show an ableist family.

Characterization

[Plain Text: Characterization]

Warning; the bar here is somewhere in the Earth's inner core. If your character has a single characteristic beyond aggressive/loud/unmanageable*, they're automatically at the top of most complex fictional representation of severely/profoundly ID characters. Congrats.

* - Some people are those things but, unsurprisingly, they're other things too. A lot of profoundly ID people can actually be completely quiet - you notice people who are loud because they're loud.

As with literally every character, you need to figure out what they like and not like. This can be quite literally anything, but try to think of the basic stuff. Do they have something they really enjoy eating (and conversely - something they refuse to eat)? Do they have some sort of comfort toy or object they don't want anyone touching (and maybe showing them playing with it with a different character could be a way to show how much they trust them)? In more modern settings, do they have a favorite show they always bug everyone to put on? Are they really clingy or do they hate physical contact (again, maybe they only enjoy it from a specific character)?

Another characterization could be comfort objects. A lot of profoundly ID people are autistic (which I'll touch on later) and will have an object that they bring everywhere the same way that non-ID autistic people might. There's nothing really specific here, just another layer of "this character is a Person". Maybe they have a blanket they really enjoy chewing because the texture feels good or some sort of plushie they like to throw around because it makes a sound they find funny. Lots of options. Maybe they have a personal “tell” to let others know they want their comfort object brought to them.

Keep in mind, you have to show this all in non-verbal manner. A profoundly ID person is probably not using any sort of AAC device (the most robust one I remember seeing right now was a low-tech one with "yes" and "no", but there are probably ones who operate on a larger amount of singular words). This is basically another opportunity for characterization - what do they do when they're happy - laugh, flap their arms, make sounds? - and when they're upset - scream, hit themselves, make different sounds? Obviously, you'd have to take other disabilities into account (e.g. many profoundly ID people won't move much, some might not be able to make much audible sound, etc.) but almost anything helps.

This brings us to…

Communication

[Plain Text: Communication]

An important thing (concept?) I'll throw here is "total communication", which can mean different things in different contexts, but here I'll use it to mean "using everything you can to communicate with someone who cannot do so in a ‘traditional’ way".

Communication can be categorized as having two sides; expressive and receptive. For most intellectually disabled people in general, receptive skills tend to be significantly higher than expressive ones, though there are specific disorders where it’s reversed or equal. As mentioned before, most profoundly ID people won’t speak orally, won’t use sign language, and won’t use AAC (though out of all three, AAC is the most likely one). Some might say single words, but that’s about it. It’s not a “physically mute but can write perfectly grammatically correct sentences” situation, it’s more of a “[single noun]” one, if anything. Receptive skills however are pretty decent (in comparison) and they would probably understand their name, the name/title of their carer(s), names of things they see every day, events they have some frame of reference to (e.g. if they grew up Christian, they would probably know what Christmas is), etc. Your other characters could (and should) talk to them like they can understand, even if they don’t catch everything or even most of it. I say a lot of “probably” there, but the people who can’t do so usually have other comorbidities, which I’ll mention later.

To go back to expressive communication, eye pointing can be used to figure out what the character wants. A change in breathing can be used to tell that a character got stressed. Throwing an object can be used as a hint that the character wants to play. Maybe them reaching towards person A means they want to eat, but reaching towards person B means they want them to sing a song for them. Maybe them making a particular face means they just had a seizure and need to be comforted. Whatever their "tells" like this might be, other characters who know them would probably be able to tell more-or-less what's going on - you don't have to go really in-depth, especially if it's a minor character, but figuring out the ways your character communicates with others will make it feel more like a person and not a Disabled Lamp (“if you can replace a disabled character with a lamp or a sick dog, they’re not a character”).

If you read some of these and go "that's a thing that a child would do" then you're not necessarily wrong. A profoundly ID adult might enjoy activities that primarily kids partake in. This is, I can't stress this enough, not the same as "mentally being a child". Otherwise, a whole bunch of adults on this very website would be "mental middle schoolers" based on the shows that they watch - but they're obviously not. A profoundly ID adult doesn't have the "mind of a baby" if their favorite game is throwing a toy, they have the mind of a profoundly intellectually disabled adult. Sometimes people assume that since ID people aren't mentally [incorrect age], they always "act their [actual] age" and essentially end up downplaying how much some people's ID affects them, when the point is that no matter what you do, you are your age. An ID character who is 26 years, incontinent, constantly puts their hand in their mouth, can't speak, whatever, is mentally 26 years old the same way that they would be if they had a wife and a mortgage.

For the last thing from this section I'll circle back to the assumption that all severely/profoundly ID people are loud, aggressive, etc. - as I said, some of them are (just like abled people). The thing is, this is not always an unreasonable response to being unable to communicate with the people who are caring for you. If you had a pressure sore but couldn't explain it to anyone you'd be pissed off and screaming too. That's an extreme example, but still applies. If someone is severely stressed out (for an abled person, this might be inheriting a ton of debt, for a profoundly ID person it can be a change in daily routine), they can lash out. It's an unpleasant but very much human reaction to have, even if what's behind the ID person's behavior is significantly different from what an average abled person might consider "a good reason".

So I guess my advice is, try to show some empathy to the character, even if they genuinely are loud and/or aggressive. Intellectually disabled people - including the profoundly disabled ones - aren't some alien species that is just mean and hates their caregivers for no reason, some just can't process their feelings the way an abled person might because of their disability. That's not to say that caregivers aren't allowed to feel frustrated - because they are - but that very severely disabled people aren't purposefully evil. As mentioned in the earlier parts, all behavior has a cause, just like for literally everyone. So if the character is being "unmanageable": maybe they aren't some cursed burden, maybe they're just stressed out of their mind and now someone they don't know that well is trying to do *something* to them, which they can't figure out because of their disability affecting their receptive language skills.

Resources and What to Keep in Mind

[Plain Text: Resources and What to Keep in Mind]

Some resources you might read about ID can be potentially misleading. Even if you specifically look for causes of the profound severity of intellectual disability, you will get results for mild ID. That's mainly because people with mild ID make up >85% of intellectually disabled people and those with profound ID make like 1%, so they're a minority in a minority.

Basically:

Down syndrome is a very unlikely cause. It's always listed as the main genetic cause of ID, but that's only true for mild and moderate severities. If you choose any of the common causes of ID make sure it actually has the symptoms you're looking for.

Most profoundly ID people will have either severe brain damage early in life (and this can come with cerebral palsy), cephalic disorders (e.g. microcephaly), genetic conditions that you've never heard of (e.g. Pallister-Killian or Emanuel syndromes, 3p deletion), genetic conditions that you've never heard of for a very understandable reason (e.g. X-linked intellectual disability-limb spasticity-retinal dystrophy-arginine vasopressin deficiency… there are hundreds named in this way), or just have it without a known cause. The last one happens much more often than people tend to assume.

For a reason I'll probably discover at some point, most disorders and syndromes that come with ID are said to have "autistic-like features" rather than being "comorbid with autism". In practice, it's the same thing. Your character is probably autistic.

In the same way, a lot of practical resources will assume that ID = moderate ID (since most mildly affected need no or minimal support, and severely/profoundly disabled ones are a small minority) so pay attention if you're looking at the right things. If it's talking about having a job, travelling alone, etc., then you got clickbaited.

Another subsection here will be comorbidities because there are a lot of them. I’ll mention the biggest ones.

Brain damage is the most common one (except autism) and can vary a lot. There is barely anything I can say about this one, it’s an enormous spectrum that for some people causes disability and for others barely affects their symptoms. Cerebral palsy, especially quadriplegic, is seen a lot and might affect the character’s mobility a lot. Some people might be unable to breathe or swallow and need a breathing or feeding tube.

Deafness and blindness are comorbid with a surprising amount of causes of ID. The thing is, you could take advice for deaf/blind characters as-in for a character that has both (e.g.) glaucoma and mild ID and not change much, but this doesn’t really work for a character who’s profoundly disabled like this. The situation that can happen here is that it’s not actually known if the person is or isn’t deaf or blind because they can’t tell you. As mentioned earlier, some people will have absent receptive communication skills. How do you verify if they’re deaf or just not reactive to language? Some people won’t react to even extremely loud sounds, even if they can hear them perfectly well (besides, a lot of deaf people can still hear some). Same for verifying if they are blind - obviously, sometimes there’s something visual going on, but often there isn’t. Especially since the main causes of both blindness and deafness will be brain-based, not ear- or eye-based. Another character not being sure if the disabled character is blind or just very uninterested in visual stimuli is a possibility, especially with less advanced medicine.  This is also why you might see those weird statistics of "between 5-90% of people with [condition] are deaf" kind.

Mobility is almost always severely affected. Some are fully mobile, but that’s simply not common. The average person will be unable to walk independently. It’s not always a muscle or nerve problem (though it absolutely can be), it’s mostly an issue of coordination. Because of this (and understanding physical space), operating a wheelchair (...successfully) might be impossible. This doesn’t mean you should just drop your character in a hospital wheelchair for them to get wheeled around because they will probably need a wheelchair that will actually support them - a headrest, ability to tilt, a harness, all that. This could be done with a powerchair (they can have controls on the back for a second person to operate), a manual wheelchair, or an adaptive stroller.

Now for resources;

One good resource I can recommend is SBSK (which I shared before), to my knowledge this is the only place that interviews severely and profoundly ID people (+their families) and the interviewer is great at actually interacting with many of them. 

Most resources on the practical things only ever talk about caregivers (who are very important) but completely ignore the actual person being cared for which IMO kinda defeats the point.

Good luck writing!

mod Sasza

[creatingblackcharacters]

I saw your tags about Stephen Kings portrayal of Black characters and I gotta say, my mom and I have been reading a few books by him and are SHOCKED at how much he loves to throw around the n word and how there’s always some uneducated drawl in their speech. Very disheartening after years of being fans of his but better late than never to see the truth. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Yeah.... Yeah 😅 like I do enjoy some of Stephen King's books (Shawshank and The Green Mile remain some of my favorite stories), but there is a pattern of how he treats his Black characters and it's not very good! Like it would be a lie to say they don't serve important roles, but... Very much plot devices and fake mysticality and magical negroes meant to serve and deliver white characters' stories. Plus, his desire to incorporate racism hits a point where you're like... Do you actually understand what you're writing or do you just think saying the n word is the only way to express antiblack racism?

He's a great example of how if you think the mere presence of Black people counts as caring about representation, you'd think he's a great person who cares about diversity, but if you actually understand what's going on, you're like 🥴

[anniflamma]

Okay… I’m going to rant about a book that I read a while ago.... And I can’t deny it anymore… it was a bad book.

The Passion of Sergius and Bacchus by David Reddish. It’s a romantic retelling of the Christian saints Sergius and Bacchus.

To tell the story briefly about these saints, Sergius and Bacchus were third-century Roman soldiers and Christian martyrs. The oldest record of their martyrdom describes them as erastai (Greek for “lovers”). Scholars believe they may have been united in the rite of adelphopoiesis, a kind of early Christian same-sex union. When their Christian faith became known, after they refused to attend sacrifices to Zeus, Sergius and Bacchus were arrested and paraded through the streets in women’s clothing in an unsuccessful effort to humiliate them. The reason it failed was that the duo didn’t feel humiliated being dressed as women. After that they were both executed. Bacchus was beaten to death and Sergius was forced to walk in inward-iron-spiked metal shoes to another town and there was executed.

So, of course, when I found out there was a book retelling about them, I bought it immediately and obviously ignored the negative reviews. I read it with rose-tinted glasses on and loved it! Sure, I could see some red flags, but I ignored them, and to be honest, there are some parts of the book that is very good.

But here’s the problem with it: Reddish’s way of portraying women is… very questionable. For example, there are only two named female characters in the book. Only two. The first one is Helen, whose personality traits are that she’s pregnant and stupid. Im not kidding. Not that she actually does anything dumb, the narrative just tells us she’s stupid. She don't do anything, like she takes parts in some conversations with the other male characters but other than that, nothing. But the book itself and the maincharacters acts like she is the most dumb person there is. Later in the book, she dies, motivating another male character to make irrational decisions out of grief. Her only purpose is to serve as a plot device when she dies.....

The second named female character is Miriam (I remember right...), and she’s a homophobe. She does have a small arc where she recognizes she’s wrong, the next chapter she’s back to being homophobic again, and the narrative nor other characters doesn’t acknowledge her regression.

Trigger warning for the topic of rape.

Then there’s another female character who appears in the book. She doesn’t have a name. She’s basically just a narrative device to show that Sergius is a good person. There’s a scene where Sergius finds a group of Roman men raping a 14-year-old girl. He kills them and saves her. He doesn’t speak to her, she have no speaking lines, and then… Sergius just leaves and continues with whatever he was doing before. The plot moves on, and it’s never mentioned again....This entire scene happens in less than one page. At first, I thought it would come back to bite Sergius, you know, because he just killed four Roman men.... but nope! It was just there to show that Sergius thinks rape is bad and that he’s a skilled fighter who can take down four men at once. That’s all. Wtf?

This is why I hate stories that use rape as a tool to make a male character look good...

And then there’s the moment when Sergius and Bacchus were forced to be dressed in women’s clothing… In this retelling book, it’s portrayed as deeply shameful. Sergius has a long inner monologue about how awful he feels seeing Bacchus in women’s clothing, blah blah blah.

Like… this book shits on every single female character it has, and when it reaches the part where, in the original story, the men proudly embrace being “Brides of Christ,” it does the exact opposite. Yet Sergius is described as empathetic toward women’s suffering, that guy have inner monologues about how much he thinks that women should be treated better but at the same time he’d rather be physically tortured than wear women’s clothing.... And Sergius nor the narrative never questions why Sergius feel that way.... Talk about the irony... a modern retelling of an ancient story about two men who proudly embrace becoming "Brides of Christ" which leads to their death, yet in this version, it’s portrayed as something shameful.

How do you, as an author, take an old story from the freaking third century and potray it like this? There is no women in the legend so all these female characters are made up by the author... I can't help it but it feels like this author just simply don't like women... I really wanted to like this book... but once you see it without the redtinded glasses... it's really hard for me to recommend it... Stay away guys.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

Before I end up making that post I want to talk about briefly with the release of IS5 again, the concept of each IS havin a fundamental theme of unreality to them. I really like this, because it feels like in a pretty unsubtle way a solid way to ground the structure of a roguelike setting into what is normally a pretty grounded storyline.

IS1, Ceobe's Fungimist (please Hypergryph let it return), is a hallucination caused be Ceobe eating weird forest mushrooms. Nothing that happens in IS1 is real, explicitly. However, IS1 is fundamentally drawing from something, and in Ceobe's case, it seems to be drawing from her memories of traveling abroad Terra looking for the origins of her axe (and food, of course). What are things Ceobe's remembers happening to her, what are hallucinations filing in the gaps, and what are Ceobe catching glimpses of fundamental truths of the world (the Black Procession and the Feranmut skeleton that is Maybe? Lifebone for instance) is left extremely vague. Characters such as the Frozen Monstrosity do seem to genuinely exist, but there was no Frozen Monstrosity in Lungmen. Was Ceobe using something she herself experienced in place of Frostnova, or is Ceobe hallucinating the entire thing regardless? Who knows. Ceobe probably doesn't have the answers for you.

IS2 has explicit themes of madness and deception, and although I do not find him a particularly compelling character or plot device, a playwright who can literally warp reality with his plays. Much of the stage design recycles echoes the stage design from IS1, almost as if the Troupe is welcoming you, the player, onto their stage. You aren't here to discern the truth behind the Troupe, you're here to save one man, and while you are able to peel back the curtains somewhat, you never really do learn what the Troupe is. There are puppets who come to life and whose music damages your souls, there are actors driven so fully into their roles that they end up traveling to Sami to carry out their destined end, there's a Troupe Leader whose defining imagery is puppets and strings, and yet, you're no closer to finding out how this all happened than you are trying to explain why the Knights' Duel node exists.

IS3 asks the question "What if time is like evolution?" and presents its unreality in the form of a sprawling, massive bundle of alternative timelines to your own. It feels almost impossible to line up most of the events and memory mappings and endings on top of each other, and even the endings seemingly branch off into several versions of themselves. While, for example, the Irene encounter maps onto her own memory mapping story, we never see the timeline involving Lumen's memory mapping in the game at all. There is no Seaborn version of Gladiia in-game for you to fight. This is made seemingly all the more uncanny by the fact that there is actually a canon timeline going on, and the implication through the Bosky event that you are only seeing these alternative timelines because curiosity got the better of you. You came into contact with technology alien and yet familiar, and as a result, your good little timeline where you just save a girl who tries to commit identity death turns into you having to watch from the third person a version of the world where you and Mizuki are potentially the only intelligent life left on Terra for all eternity.

(No seriously, this ending is fucked up, what the fuck.)

IS4, on the other hand, gives us a reality that is unraveling, so fragile and malleable that you can cause things to manifest out of sheer force of will, something there are explicit warnings about not doing. It's a land where the living become the shambling, almost mechanical dead, and the mechanical being living creatures. It's a world where the abyss looks back at you, and finds you to be worth destroying. Gravity isn't right, time isn't right, language isn't right, snow falls black and the dead rise once again to beckon you home. There's nightmares in the shadows, and they're eating away at everything.

Sorry shit I got dark there. IS5 is Nymph's happy little storytime where she explores future and alternative versions of Kazdel through the imagination of her and her compatriots. What if Theresis and Theresa worked together and Nasti completed her designs (and maybe committed a genocide????) and Kazdel was a flying utopia city? What if the Teekaz all walked in a different direction and became the Sankta, or all became the Anasa? You know, sometimes you lose your sense of reality and become dependent on the visions you see from the Revenants, sometimes you need a little bunny to pull you out, and sometimes those Revenants might have actually caused a new reality to exist but haha, don't worry about that.

What if, hahaha, just saying what if, there was a version of Amiya in a world where the Sarkaz barely exist, where she was given the crown by a dying Theresa with no guidance on how to use it ethically? Haha I mean, what if Kal'tsit wasn't around? What if, just theoretically, there was a version of Amiya for whom the most formative person in her life was the decaying mind of a man stuck as an AI program who kept his people alive for 10,000 years? What if, hehehehe you know, what if, there were special endings you got for each of the stories you told where you went onto fight her, showing up closing up those stories, those worlds, to eternally protect them until she can find the answer to all troubles? What if the Sarkaz prophecy from Chapter 7 kept coming up, over and over again, the prophecy of an Amiya who would melt millions of lives into memories over and over again? What if this was an Amiya so immediately dangerous that the Sankta version of Buldrokkas'tee doesn't hesitate in trying to kill her?

I mean that would be a really scary story if it was true. Really it's Nymph's special storytime with the revenants. Don't worry about it.

Anyways I love pretty much each of these takes (IS2 is definitely the weakest though) and it shows a lot of thought from the storywriters about how they wanted to integrate a roguelike mode into their game.

[ajastu]

People complain about not being able to 'be mean' in datv, but like. You can be. Not in a 'sell people into slavery' way like you could in the other games, because narratively it just would not Work, but you can very well be mean. It just won't end well for you.

Like, okay. By virtue of being recruited by Varric and working with him for a year prior to the events of Veilguard, Rook cannot be, like....morally bankrupt? Because Varric wouldn't recruit them if they were, or would kick them to the curb if he realized they were soooo so chill with wanton murder and other such things (him and Harding kept getting distracted on their search for Solas because they kept stopping to Help People, after all) So. there are certain limitations to the choices you can make, but they Make Sense. And you can still be an asshole, in a way. Like...I think people maybe....forget? that you can get your Entire Team killed by just...not caring? A thing that you couldn't really do on a similar scale in the previous games? 'Oh you have to play the team therapist-' You don't, actually! You can ignore everyone's problems! The game doesn't stop you from just pushing on with the main plot! You can leave your companions to their own devices. It will not end well, but you can do it. Pretty much everyone will die and Rook may just end up being locked in the Fade with Solas forever, but it's an option that was Very Much Put Into The Game. But I don't think ive ever seen that ending mentioned in posts that complain about Veilguard being 'too nice'. And i'm not gonna make assumptions as to why that might be, but. Bear with me here.

It kind of, in a way, reminds me of when people were like 'ummm why does it suck so much to play a fascist in Disco Elysium??' Because it sucks to be a fascist, Period. you know? Like. You cannot want to get a good ending in the game and then also choose to be an asshole of unimaginable magnitude.

(obligatory 'piss on the poor' disclaimer: I am not saying that people who have those complaints abt veilguard are fascists or anything of the sort, it was just an example that came to mind that i thought would convey my point more efficiently)

I love origins, but it kind of...I don't know, it trivializes the acts of violence you can commit by still, inevitably, leaving your character in the position of the Hero That Saves The World. There are no real consequences in the overall story arc. It's kind of just flavor, but it never feels like an actual consequence. The story will still end approximately the same way. And I mean...it makes sense, too. There's basically only one other guy who can get the job done, so the HoF is kind of Needed for the job, no matter how much of a monster u can choose to be. You can leave the world worse than you found it, but at least there is still a world left in the end.

With Veilguard, that is not the case. The thing that makes Rook special is not their background, or their skills, or the dagger. Anyone could take their place. They're just Some Guy! And anyone WOULD take their place if they suddenly decided to start selling people into slavery. Because no one on the team is going to just sit back and let them do it. Half of the factions wouldn't even cooperate with them. They'd probably get stabbed by a shadow dragon somewhere in a dark alleyway n dropped into the sea, you know?

What makes Rook special, what secures the good ending, is their inherent kindness and care for the world and other people. The connection they build with others, who, in turn, lend their support to them. (like. something, something, almost every companion having some sort of healing/revive ability? u know?) Its the commitment to doing the Right Thing. And that is, by definition, incompatible with the option of making evil choices.

You have to want to leave the world better than you found it if you want to actually do so. The game gives you the option to do that. It also gives you the option of saving the world without caring for it or the people around you. And it gets the job done! It doesn't leave the world worse off, but it doesn't leave it better, either.

At the end of the day, all art is political in some way. And I think it's good that Veilguard is a story about hope and the value of kindness, among other things. Considering the current....Everything, I think it's kind of tone-deaf to demand that the story let you be evil for evil's sake. Look around for a moment. We really need more hope and kindness in the world right now.

The previous games were not necessarily wrong or bad for providing those options. But they were also each a product of it's time. They also each told a different story.

Veilguard is not 'sanitized', or 'dumbed down', or whatever people like to say. The mundane horrors and violence of the world don't need to be spelled out or thrown in your face via slurs against your PC. Frankly, if certain bits of the game did not horrify you on some level just from the environmental storytelling alone, then maybe you need to think about why that might be. Maybe you just need to stop and actually process what the game is showing you.

Like, i might be getting a bit off topic here, but i will be the first guy (gender-neutral) to tell you about how much of a lasting impression the broodmother bit from dao left on me. But it wasn't just the sheer violence of the experience described by Hespith. It was, well...

It's not that it occurred, it's that it was allowed.

When you go through D'meta's Crossing, through blighted Minrathous with bodies piled in the streets and hanging from the improvised gallows? Hell, the very beginning of the game, with demons snatching people left and right? The horror here is not just that it occurred, it's that it was allowed. Do you get what i mean? The fact that these things aren't spelled out to you in the form of a poem or a dialogue tree doesn't mean that they're somehow 'sanitized'.

People complain the dialogue is over-explanatory sometimes (and okay, it is, but i can think of several good reasons as to why it would be, like keeping in mind players completely new to the franchise), and then completely miss out on things that are not spelled out to them directly, and then present the 'lack' of those things as a failure of the game. I'm just saying.

So, in conclusion. I don't think Veilguard is too nice. I don't think the game has to let you commit atrocities to be complex or to show the darker bits of the world. I think datv uses it's gameplay mechanics in a way that helps it drive the point of the story home. I think the choices the developers made were made with intent, especially given the limitations they were under. And i also think that many of the 'faults' that people like to complain about are not actually faults at all.

Veilguard is not a perfect game. It IS a solid one, though. It has bits that I wish the developers were allowed to work on more and under less stress. There IS room for constructive criticism (while keeping in mind, you know, the dev hell etc). Being 'too nice'? That is not one of the game's faults. I think people who complain about that just maybe missed the entire point.

[nekropsii]

ALPHA TROLLS RANKED BY HOW WRONG THE FANDOM AT LARGE IS ABOUT THEM:

This is a personal challenge, based entirely on my own experience and perspective, and also ranked from Most to Least Correct. I was bored, and thought this might be fun.

Putting this under a cut, because it's long as hell.

MEULIN LEIJON

People get her mostly correct, from what I’ve seen… Most of the time, fan content of Meulin is absolutely recognizable as Meulin, but her pride in her deafness + joy of learning new ways to interact with the world through/due to her disability is always removed, and I do not often see people tackle the Toxic Positivity aspect of her character. That seems less like character assassination, though, and more like a combination of people not actually playing through the Openbounds, people not being able to fathom disabled people (especially those who gained a disability later in life rather than being born disabled) being happy, and general fandom distaste for the idea of touching anything uncomfortable, especially when that uncomfortable topic is highly mundane, normalized, and potentially applicable to them or their loved ones. Meulin’s toxic positivity was, of course, commentary on Tumblr’s ecosystem at the time, so… It was much harder to touch back then.

ARANEA SERKET

People tend to get her general, broad strokes personality right, but unfortunately she gets treated pretty roughly for the crime of Being A Serket. People refuse to understand her motivations, and she often gets demonized for what she was doing around/during [S] Game Over, even though that was something she’d gotten pushed to and also was cool as fuck to watch. God forbid a woman do anything.

DAMARA MEGIDO

People are right about the racism, 100%. It is completely despicable, hard to look at, and extremely blatant. She does, however, have character outside of that. No, it isn’t “whore”, it’s more like “angry, dysfunctional abuse victim”, and she’s genuinely a very interesting and tragic character. But, again, people are right about the racism, so she gets to be placed way up here.

MEENAH PEIXES

She is such a chaotic little bastard. I love her. I really do. Please understand that she genuinely does not understand the concept of consequences. This girl didn’t have a Lusus, she didn’t have parents, it was functionally illegal to tell her “No, you can’t do that.” That would fuck up literally anyone’s moral compass. That’s not me hand waving away all the fucked up and bad shit she’s done, we all know what she did, but people tend to forget this aspect of her character and it pains me deeply, because it is a very genuinely interesting concept that I want to see more of. She’s capable of regret, we’ve seen her feel it, I just don’t think foresight is her forte. No one raised her to consider consequences, or help her experience them in a healthy way, because nobody raised her period.

Also, her ass is not butch, she is the girliest girl in the entire comic. She is about hot pink and glitter and kiss marks and unicorns and cute little puns and you will respect that. She is not masculine. Her ass is not masculine nor is she butch. Let her be her hyper-feminine self.

LATULA PYROPE

Please for the love of god there is more to her character than “Gamer Girl” and “Mituna’s Girlfriend”. You are falling for her fucking ruse. Please. Please. Please recognize that her entire character is about internalized misogyny, and being forced to overcompensate for misogyny in gaming circles as a gamer who happens to be a woman. Please. I’m begging.

KURLOZ MAKARA

His character is not that deep, it’s mostly just a string of events he is mysteriously, inexplicably involved with. The Makaras are extremely Function Over Form- their characters practically do not exist, they're mostly just plot devices that exist to push the story along. I'm sorry to Makara fans. You just invented a guy in your mind and decided he was real. He is also not that soft, though, and his relationships with both Meulin AND Mituna are not healthy. Hard to stop people from ascribing cutesy squishy lovey dynamics to random men who happened to have looked at each other once, though. Some people truly haven't graduated from 2012.

HORUSS ZAHHAK

I am begging people to consider that maybe the biggest issue here is not that he is “Bad Otherkin/Therian Representation” and is in fact maybe the fact that Hussie was actually making fun of Systems when he was writing Horuss. Because Horuss is canonically a system. He uses the word system. He uses the word switching. He uses the word host. He literally talks about his Plurality at length in extremely upfront, plain terms. I don’t know how him being “Bad Otherkin Representation” was and still is the main discourse about him. It makes me insane. That is a commentary that truly writes itself. Talk about having your priorities out of wack, honestly...

PORRIM MARYAM

No, she is not a MRA, she’s just a regular feminist who happens to live on a different planet with different politics and social hierarchies from Our Real World Earth’s USA. Whatever argument you’re about to pull out of your ass to say that she sucks is bad. She already explained what she meant by that, in more detail, very clearly, and she was right. Half the time she’s literally just giving you factual information about what Beforus was like, and literal plot synopses. She isn’t saying anything insane. She’s literally normal. I don’t know why people cannot handle or process this. Porrim has not ever said anything controversial. If you disagree with this you’re either misconstruing her on purpose or you fell for Kankri’s bait, and that’s just fucking sad at that point.

Also, she’s more than a sex object, and her tits are not huge. Honestly, half the shit she was saying was just “I am more than my sex life”, and so many people took that and made her main character trait her sex life. Just pathetic.

RUFIOH NITRAM

This man is a fucking war criminal and I will stop at nothing until he is behind bars for his crimes against Damara. Raging misogynist. Total fucking cunt. Just the worst. If I talk any more about this, this part will be 1,000 paragraphs long. But also, I’m begging people to recognize his relationship with disability, too. He was similar to Meulin in the sense that he didn’t mind his disability, and his biggest gripe with it was the way that Horuss tried to “fix” it… Which is an interesting way to expand upon how Beforus’s culling system is not only very explicitly ableist, but mimicking real world systemic ableism. I also want people to recognize that Hussie is actively having a conversation about the reclamation of slurs with Rufioh’s character, and how not letting people reclaim such language is doing nothing but giving the word power against them while stripping away their own personal agency. Rufioh’s a complicated guy, and he’s interesting and also the worst, and I am really tired of how he gets watered down to nothing but “Pretty Boy Victim Of His Inexplicably Psycho Ex”.

MITUNA CAPTOR

Holy Fucking Shit, You Guys Are Ableist.

KANKRI VANTAS

To this day I see people saying he was just Hussie making fun of SJWs. To this day. To this day people think Hussie was trying to make Every Tumblr Leftist look bad, and that he hates them Because They Are Leftists. When will people recognize him as a bootlicker to the oppressive class and the violently bigoted. When will people recognize that. When will people recognize that this is more of a commentary on the legitimate real flaws of Tumblr’s politics at the time. When. When.

When will people stop portraying him as a lovey-dovey Catholic Whore. I’m going to stab my fucking eyes out and then kill everyone in this building. Me when it's based and cool to ship an aroace character with a sexual predator. I GUESS.

CRONUS AMPORA

I say this with every ounce of sincerity I can possibly muster as a person: What the literal actual fuck.

[iznsfw]

One Hop Ahead Of You

ARTMS' Jeon Heejin + woo!ah!'s Nana (Kwon Nayeon) x Male Reader Smut

18,039 words

Categories | bunny girls FTW, stepcest (kinda), blowjob, threesome, daddy kink, cunnilingus, angry sex, spanking, breeding

Bunny kpop idols are the best. There's Eunbi, Tsuki, then Heejin and Nana... Thanks for commissioning me this piece; sorry for the late post! Enjoy all the synonyms I could use for "but" :D

Phone on, headphones plugged, music loud. That’s your story for road trips such as these, and you’ve zero plans about rewriting the plot. 

The scenery of beautiful mountains and blooming trees can’t break your focus on your mobile device. Your parents can’t either, as hard as they try; they’ve told you once or twice during the whole trip to look up from the screen for once. No, actually, scratch that: they’ve berated you about it at least every five minutes, and you’re starting to grow sick of pretending you can’t hear them. Your nonchalant continued stares on your phone don’t exactly convince them you can’t hear a thing.

Yeah, this is what happens when you give your toddler an iPad. The boomers might be right for this one. You can’t live without staring down at a bright screen, clicking at a bright screen, watching a bright screen. Eh, well, so what? Technology is a necessity in these modern days, and it just so happens that you need this kind of distraction on the road trip. Your mother and father think otherwise, but that’s because they live like it’s still the 70s or something. You don’t know. That’s how parents are.

Mobile data serves you well anyway. Your combat skills do not. You’ve been trying to kill a character on this app for a while, and it stuns you how strong her damage is. You click the sickle attack button more times than you can count and choose a special damage in between three taps, but you still end up dead. You’re seeking vengeance because the player talked shit about you on the main chat, and it doesn’t look like you’re going to show them up. You've got two deaths to go before you're seen as a pathetic little shit who tries too hard, and five kills to cement yourself as someone who isn't.

God, you’ve been playing this game for years—how are you still not good?

“Jay,” you could hear your mother call out from the edge of your earphones. She’s driving, her ringed hands firmly on the wheel. She meets your subtle gaze through the rearview mirror. “Jay.”

Groan. That’s your job as a son: to moan, groan, and drone on about everything and anything. You’re exceptionally skilled in this profession. “What now, mom?” you ask.

She gives you a sarcastic but playful little grin. “Oh, so you can hear me.”

Alright, you’ll let her have that one. But still: “Only because you’ve been nagging me for the whole trip.”

“Now now, don’t talk to your mother like that,” your father chides. He’s a kind-looking dude; he’s got triangle-shaped glasses and stubbles of a dead beard on his chin. “It’s true, but rude. Very rude, not a good look.”

Your mother clicks her tongue. She gives your father a millisecond glare before returning to driving. “Hey.”

“Honey, you know I love you, but your mouth—”

“Leave it at that,” she warns, voice dangerously tight.

Your dad doesn’t heed her warning. “—can be a nuisance.”

“That’s it. I’m pulling over. And you’re driving.”

He raises his hands. “Okay, okay,” he says passively, “I’m sorry.”

They harrumph at each other for a while, then kiss and make up, and you laugh a little. Subtly, of course. Everyone knows that part of going through teenage years (well, you’re a little past being a teen when you’re nearly twenty years old, but your mind is still the same as when you were sixteen) is denying with all your heart that your parents make you happy. You’re just going with the flow, as usual. 

It especially doesn’t help that you’re already an adult according to the Korean age system. Adulthood brings a kind of defiant independence in you, which you don’t know whether it’s a good thing or not. It has its moments, you guess.

“Oh, look at that,” says your mother, nudging your father, “Jay’s laughing!”

“I’m not!” you reply, biting your cheek so the smile doesn’t grow. Must. Not. Show. Them.

Your father peeks at you from behind the headrest and grins mischievously. “See? We still got it, don’t we?” 

The car swerves, barely making you match your fist bump with him. For this, you allow a slight smile—as much as you like to hide it like a career-ruining secret, you love your parents. They’re like two peas in a pod. Your father’s a rambunctious joke-loving guy your playful mother falls in love with everyday, resulting in, well, having you. 

Plus, because of that, you haven’t felt the need to regret being born or despising your parents, unlike other people your age. Their love for each other inspires you, and although every moment with them is guaranteed to have you be a third wheel again, you don’t mind. You love seeing them happy.

“Now that you’re back to earth,” your mother says, “can you please appreciate the surroundings? It’s too beautiful to go ignored.”

“That’s right. They won’t surround you when we fly back home.”

“Dad,” you groan, rolling your eyes. But doing a little observing is the least you could do. You can go AFK on this match for once. You’ve still got more mobile data to last a few days, so worrying isn't needed.

Look up. Blink once. Twice. It’s like a whole new world. Humble homes peek from between forests in the lower sides of the mountains. The sun is shining brightly, casting a yellow light on the trees that decorate the sides of the swerving roads. And the sky… has it always been that blue? The wispy clouds are just the cherry on top.

This place is so different from the urban city where your apartment resides. There’s no smoke, no cut trees, no rising buildings. It’s nature in its most pure state. 

There’s no traffic either, but—

“Mom, look out!” you yell, but you’re just a little too late. Just a little, and it would count, but for this one it doesn’t.

You can’t do anything about it then. The large truck that ventures on the wrong side of the road has a mission. Whether intentional or not, it can’t turn back. It collides heavily into the windshield, and you’re wrapped in dizziness and despair as your old car launches backward, rolling in the air a few times before roughly settling on the very curved edge of the road. 

Then it slides downward. You’re stuck in a spiral blurred with green and wood. What you remember is the feeling of being tortured and tossed through trees, and the truck following suit. It chases you long after its mission is complete.

Another thing you recall from the accident, as you’re lying down on the rough grass with blood on the side of your head, are two rabbits that stare curiously at you.

They seem to be sisters.

-

Voices, male and female, scruff and saccharine. They fill your ears like music but you can’t open your eyes to see to whom they belong. They speak of confusing topics and jumbled words. Can’t get a grip of their meaning. All the while your soul is yearning to rise from sleeping when it feels like you’re dying and the force inside you is struggling in defying a black fate. 

Your body, however, is blank of any pain. How strange. Strange enough that it’s a strong alarm for you to finally open your eyes. They’ve been glued together for a while, so when your vision greets you, you surprise even yourself. There’s a person in a white lab coat, and a white blanket mantles you. Is this heaven? Isn’t heaven’s signature color white?

First things first: how the fuck did they let you into heaven?

“Ah, so you’re finally awake.” A man with a rounded cap smiles at you. “How’re you doing, bud?”

Blink. So… this isn’t heaven? Do they wear caps in heaven? You don’t think so. Whoever invented denim caps deserves a nice little throne next to Lucifer. “Um. Alright, I guess?”

What should you even say when you’re trying to piece together who he was? You know you’ve seen him before when you were younger, but you’re not sure exactly when. All you’re aware of is that he looks too familiar. Kind of like deja vu. The beard and wrinkly skin tell you of a tale old as time.

“Hello, I’m doctor Kim,” says the woman in the lab coat as she approaches you. She extends a hand to you and you shake it politely. “You experienced a car crash in the morning near the terraces. Luckily, a man saw the tragedy and dialed 911.”

“Tragedy?” you wonder out loud. You’re still alive, so why would it be called that?

Doctor Kim lowers her head. “Your parents died immediately from the impact of the crash, sir. I’m sorry.”

Grief comes strangely to you, even when you’ve heard the news. You’d say you’re mourning, because you are, in a way—from that moment, you miss your parents dearly and wish that time travel existed so you’d prevent the accident from happening. But you aren’t… crying. You don’t burst into tears on the spot. There’s not even wetness in your eyes to help. Moreover, you haven’t made a small prayer for easier things to happen. It’s like the stages of grief avoid you at all costs and don’t even bother to orient you about their loss.

Maybe you’re just in denial. You’ve been staring at a blank spot on the hospital wall for what seems like ages, and you’ve only been conscious for minutes. Something’s changed within.

Wonder who’d be your parent now that both of yours are gone. You’re an orphan. You don’t even know how to drive back home or go back to the convenience store where you make your money. All your belongings for the road trip that was supposed to go beautifully are gone in the accident. 

Bite your lip thoughtfully. “Was it quick?” you ask quietly.

The doctor knows what you mean. Whether she’s lying or not is the question. “Yes.”

That comforts you a bit. What eats your insides from guilt, though, is that you never bothered to enjoy the road trip with them. You were always stuck to your damn phone. You didn’t talk much with them during their final moments, and it would haunt you forever. It doesn’t show on your face, though—it’s completely empty, devoid of any expression or pain.

“You really don’t recognize me, bud?” the man laughs, like he actually couldn’t believe it. 

Blink. Then it hits you. “Chan hyung…?” you ask. Hope you got it right because you’re steepering on sureness now.

“Bullseye.” So you did. He sits down on the edge of the hospital bed and cups your hand. “I’m a friend of your parents. They told me to look after you in case anything happens. They really loved you, y’know? Still do.”

You look down meekly and nod. Yeah, he’s right. They did. The other part’s true, too; if they had souls and were secretly watching the whole ordeal going on, they’d still love you. That’s how unconditionally they did it.

“I’m on the emergency contacts list, FYI.” He hands you his phone. “They even had a will and all. I hate that we got to meet again like this. Could have been in better circumstances. But that’s life, you know. Plus, it was quick enough to be painless.”

Your hand, linked to the dextrose, hardens in pain as it wraps around the device, but you go on. There on the screen, see that your parents did in fact keep him on the emergency contacts. He’s telling the truth. Now you understand why he looks so familiar.

Look up from the screen, (like you should have in the car when your mother and father tried to make conversation with you.) “I—I used to play baseball with you,” you say in childlike wonder. 

Chan laughs. “So I did. I’ll be happy to look after you. Probably even be your father, if you’d like.”

Your heart rises. “You’d really do that?”

“Of course! Your parents were good people, and I’d be glad to have you in my care. According to them, you’re a pretty good kid. Hope that’s true.”

“No promises.”

He laughs. He’s still got the same not-too-serious sense of humor like he did years ago. “What do you say, kid?”

He’s being a good guy, a good friend to your parents even after they passed, and you appreciate it. But being his son this quick after so much time seems like… betraying them. You know that’s not how it works, and your parents would have loved for you to gel quickly with him, but you’re just not ready. Something’s pulling you back.

What could it be?

“I…” you say, fidgeting. You don't know the right words to put it. “C-can I think about it first?”

The look on his face drops, but he smiles anyway. He must be a really good friend to be this understanding. “Of course,” he replies, retracting his hand from yours, “shouldn’t have put you on the spot. Just tell me yes or no when you’re ready. Deal?”

-

Three days is how long it takes for you to recover. To be fair, you already were—your limbs are working, and that’s enough for you. The doctors, however, insist on a lengthier stay and you kind of want to start shit in the living room and tell them how they were money-greedy exploitative little shits, but you’re not in the mood to cause a ruckus. Maybe some other time, when you eventually break all your bones and wheel out of the hospital cursing them for the bill. But yeah, some other time would work. Of course.

“I took the liberty of packing your stuff up for you,” says Chan, bringing over a luggage bag. It’s full to the edge of the zipper with clothes and other essentials. 

You wonder how he went to your home and back here to the hospital this fast. “How did you—”

“I had some help,” he replies simply. You don’t question any further.

You’re in a clean pair of clothes now. You hated wearing the hospital gown. It’s like they attempted to make hospitals less sad by fashioning a bib into a larger size. There you are with your assumptions again. Maybe the stages of grief have come for you after all. Why do you feel angry all the time? This can’t be normal.

What stage would it be if you’re afraid to get into a car because of their loss? You step into it with shaky legs, looking back and forth, as if you’re scared the vehicle would lurch forward suddenly. To be fair, it is a possibility, but a rare one. Your fear, therefore, is completely irrational, yet there you are: suddenly scared of… cars?

Get in finally. The breath you let go, however, has been keen on getting out. 

Chan knows well to avoid the path your parents went on when they died. He avoids it for both of your own wellbeings. They were close to him, too. He would hate to go down the road they died on. Like you, he wants to remember them fondly, not like the injured bodies that he said goodbye to at the morgue. Again, it’s for the best.

“Hey, kid,” he says. His peer at you through the rearview mirror gives you painful flashbacks. “You okay?”

He’s more attentive than he gives himself away as; he somehow notices your blank stare at the window and weak smile. He’s got you figured out, and you suppose that’s a good thing—it just shows how he could play his role as your dad pretty well if you let him. But then there’s the sense of yearning in you that’ll end up in no good. It’s yearning for your parents to come back, the yearning for them to somehow have the breath of life in their lungs again and have them rise from the morgue and walk back into your life. If they do that, you’d make an oath to be the best son. 

Ah, you know that won’t happen. It’s impossible. It’s wishful thinking that won’t amount to anything.

“You could talk to me.” His eyes stare straight at the road, but he’s not really looking at anything. “I miss them, too.”

“I’m fine, hyung,” you say. You’re not, but who needs to hear that? Not the guy to whom your parents entrusted you to. You’re twenty years old—who needs to hear an overgrown child’s lamentations? 

You don’t want to burden Chan at all. What you don’t know is he’s actually willing to hear all of it. You should have lamented about not knowing his openness rather than everything else. It would only lead to more sadness. 

The sadness evaporates a little upon seeing his house. It’s a nice place, with two stories and a nice terrace to lounge at. Maybe, from the other side, it’s your parents’ way of still loving you: giving you a nice home and a nice (future?) dad.

They're still looking after you. Look up in the sky and smile. Chan catches it, and for a second you blush in embarrassment, but he smiles, too. "See?" is what he says, followed up with: "Everything's gonna be fine."

Trust him on that.

Open the front door and it welcomes you into his home. Its main color is pure white. You start to wonder how the white walls are unblemished even with its ruinable color. Maybe he had it cleaned up for your sake. The furniture's good, too, but all it's good for right now is to be a bed for your luggage when you start to arrange things. 

"Your room's right over there," Chan says, pointing to an open door to your left. "Feel free to get some food or water. Whatever you like. You're family now." He steps closer and pats your shoulder. "Always been."

Smile appreciatively. Resist the urge to hug him and replace it with folding a few of your clothes into a pile to bring it over to your bedroom. Graphic shirts in one pile here, underwear and sleeveless shirts in the other over there. Add your headphones on top of the pile and you’re ready to start adjusting to your new room. Just one look and you could already tell it’s bigger than the one back at home. Well, former home, to be exact. You keep forgetting this is a whole new place that’s going to be where you sleep, rest, and laugh.

That voice gets your guard down, and so does the girl standing in front of you. That deep voice certainly can’t belong to the sweet-but-indifferent-faced girl leaning against your door frame. Look around for a bit to see if it’s anyone else’s, but there’s no one around. Just you and the alluring woman blocking the pathway to your new room.

She gestures to the stack of clothes in your arms with her brows. “You plan on doing anything with that or what?” she asks. 

Yeah, that deep voice definitely is hers; you can hear it loud and clear. Not one syllable could belong to anyone else, no one but her. What’s her name? It’s—

“Heejin,” says Chan exasperatedly. Amusement is present in his tone too as he walks over to break it up and sling an arm around his daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t scare the new guy and let him in his room, please?”

“I’m just being curious, daddy,” Heejin explains. 

Oh, so that’s her name. Heejin. Jeon Heejin. Neat. Has a nice ring to it, but it somehow spells trouble. You swear those letters can’t make up that word, but with Heejin, it sure does. Not only does her name spell it, but so do her eyes that are way too observant, tracking your every move with prolonged glances, and the tilt of her head as if she were a trained German Shepherd rather than the animal she reminds you of: a bunny.

A bunny? 

Wait—

"Oh, it's you!" you say. Almost drop your clothes on the floor when you realize it. How could you not have caught on?

Heejin smiles. It brings the sense of familiarity to wash more over your mind like waves. "Thought you would never recognize me, Jay," she says. "Hi there."

Try not to gawk with all your might, but you do anyway. Just hope it isn't obvious because see here, the Jeon Heejin you know used to be a shy little thing, never wanting to come out and play with you when you were younger out of embarrassment. Now, she writes confidence into each and every one of her moves, with a dazzling little smile to go along with it. How did she manage the transformation? You need the tips ASAP.

"Oh, right." Chan slaps a hand to his face and shakes his head. "You two've met before, right?"

She's a little sleazy when she rests her back on the frame again and nods, eyes never leaving your body. If anything, she's the one who's gawking and even if, for argument's sake, you are, it's just an eye for an eye. The two of you are just amazed at how much the other has grown up. Nothing more.

(Or… ?)

"So it seems," she says bluntly.

"Ah, should have known. But it was a long time ago, wasn't it?"

"Mhm." Heejin looks you up and down and smiles. "You've grown up."

"So have you," you reply, because she has. Toned muscle clings to her arms and she’s let go of the rectangle-shaped glasses. Now, circular Harry Potter spectacles sit on the bridge of her pointy nose. She stares at you through them for a while. She's a CCTV; she's monitoring your moves in HD and watching you put your clothes in neat piles in the cabinet drawers. Heejin gives you a stare that lingers long after you're done folding them. She's thinking of something, and you're not sure if you want to know.

"Daddy," she calls out. 

You don't know what you're doing when you turn your head in her direction. Much less when she winks at you. Blush furiously and hide your face behind spread shirts.

Chan peeks from the living room. "Yeah, hon?" 

"I think Nana's waiting for you to pick her up? It's 3 p.m.."

"Ah, right. Can’t forget about that little rascal.” He wipes his mouth and gets up. “Help Jay with his stuff, please, Heekki?"

It only takes seconds for Chan to find his keys, but for you it takes hours. Your heart beats loudly at the thought of being alone with Heejin, and you can’t differentiate its drumming with being nervous or excited. When he finally gets out and you hear the car pull out of the way, you’re stuck. Heejin’s somewhere near the corner of your room but it doesn’t look like she’s the one who has nowhere to go. 

She’s stunning with all those locks of shiny dark hair curtaining her shoulders and fit body. Her legs do more than peeking out from her low-cut shorts as she navigates your new room. The round glasses that sit on her nose just pull her whole, gorgeous look together. You can’t believe how beautiful she’s become. She was always a pretty girl, but the maturity and growth that coursed through her early years of adulthood made her glow. It’s like you’re looking at a new, refined version of her.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” says Heejin. She picks away at a poster of a famous basketball player, name redacted. “They were good people.”

“Trust me,” you sigh, “I know.”

God knows you didn’t appreciate your parents much. It’s a pet peeve of yours to be reminded to be grateful in grave situations, but your mother and father were different from other pairs of parents. Others were abusive, neglectful, cruel. Yours knew how to take care of you while letting you dip your toes into the pool of freedom at the same time. Your parents loved you. Not a lot of people could say that.

“And they told my dad to take you in, huh?”

“Does that bother you?” you say, with an unintentional bladed edge to your voice. Realize how you said it and immediately shut your mouth.

Heejin blinks, disarmed for a while, then recovers quickly with a smile that’s just as dazzling as her. “For what it’s worth,” she says, taking the chance to place herself beside you a little too close for anything that isn’t lustful intent, “I’d love to have you over here as long as you like.”

You don’t know what to say. Her being this close with you is setting off fireworks inside of you. Put a pillow snug in your lap just to be sure and nod. “Thanks, Heejin.”

“Of course.” Heejin rests her chin on your shoulder and whispers so softly that it could’ve been your imagination deluding you again: “I’ll make your time here worthwhile.”

Jerk your head, but she’s already scampering to the door and exiting your room. She doesn’t even look back. 

“Hey,” you say, trying to break the ice that only freezes you, “Chan hyung said you would help me with my stuff!”

No response.

So you were right to think that she’s trouble. But god, would you love to be wound up in her.

-

You’ve stared at the ceiling for too long, but now, it’s not out of grief. It’s out of fear. Are you doing the right thing by wanting to fuck your sister? Well, she’s not exactly your sister yet, but she’s somehow related to you now considering her father treats you as a son, too. A stepsister, maybe? There’s no other fitting term than that.

What should you do? Is gawking at her and her desirable body going to make your parents in the afterlife proud? You’re sure they’d be disappointed. But is it your fault that Heejin’s grown into this naturally flirtatious woman? Not at all. Is it your fault that she’s so damn attractive? The answer is no, too.

It could be a yes though, because it isn’t Heejin to blame that her new brother wants to have sex with her. You’re both in the wrong, and two of those don’t exactly make a right.

Look around your room, then at the door where she leaned on as she successfully intimidated you. Is it locked? Fuck it, you don’t know, and you probably don’t even care. What you do know is that you’re too turned on by the thought of your new sister Jeon Heejin, and you need to do something about it.

(To the cracked hole in the fourth wall, you say, What? I have needs, too, you know. And you do, too—why do you think you’re reading this now?)

Lift your comforter just a little and slide your hand south. Cup your bulge, caress it, then spring it out. It’s already solid, and it doesn’t need too many strokes to have the blood rushing there completely. Your stiff rod aches for a touch, aches for Heejin, and stimulates itself to the thought of her as you start to jerk off.

You think of how she could swing those full thighs over each side of your face, and though her form would burden your chin, you’d happily eat of her. Bet that her pussy’d taste just as good as her lips. You’d lick and suck her clit while she moans and writhes until the two of you couldn’t take it anymore; her core would feel numb after the pleasure and your jaw would ache for days.

You recall how her lips were just inches away from you earlier, only barely touching the curve of your ear. Think of how those lips would feel much better if they were on yours. Yearn for your mouths to meet to the point that you’re moaning in each other, taking in the natural scent of skin and sex.

Finally, you think of the changes you’ve seen in her. Where was the shy, antisocial Heejin of yesterday? Now she’s grown, just like you, and looks far better than you’d imagine. She’s turned into this will’o the wisp goddess.

“Heejin,” you say, as quietly as you could, “Heejin, Heejin, Heejin—”

“God, I really turned you on that much, huh?”

Your pumps stop, and your sight catches onto the said woman you’ve been jerking off to. She’s in the same place as she was earlier, at her opening scene at the door frame. You’re more than happy to see the pretty Heejin, but she can’t show up now. Not when you’re jerking off. She can’t just appear in the corner like she teleported for the pure purpose to catch you in the act.

“Heejin!” you yell, pulling the covers onto yourself. “G-get out of my room!”

She’s wearing her sleep clothes now, but she still looks like she dressed to impress. Her body pulls together the skimpy shorts and loose shirt she sleeps in into something that could have been worn on a haute couture catwalk. Her raised brows, haughty eyes, and quirked mouth all show how she’s smugger than the word itself.

“Aww,” Heejin says, walking over to sit on your bed, “what should we do to you now, oppa?”

You’re horrified, to say the least. It’s your first day at a new house and you’re already doing something wrong. The bare minimum you should do in this situation is to tell the girl to fuck off. Tell her to go far away and flee to anywhere but your room. You can’t just stare at her like she’s a dream come true, even if she is.

Let’s see: you have your new sister on your bed who caught you jerking off. There has to be some other way this would end, but the two of you know where this leads. The question that remains is if you’d be able to hold back.

You make the first step to resisting the inevitable outcome. “Heejin,” you say, breaths shredded into panicked little gasps, “I’ll only say it again and no more. Get out of my room.”

She smiles sweetly and shakes her head. “Can’t make me. I want to know what you were doing, Jay.”

“No!” You won’t be saying it, you won’t dream of saying it, you’d rather die than to be caught saying it. It’s already bad enough when it goes unspoken. What more if you pronounce what you were doing with each syllable more embarrassing than the other?

“Then I guess I should just”—she tugs the covers off—”oh my, Jay oppa. You were touching yourself to me. And I thought I was just being narcissistic.”

Your cock leaks in the cold air. Heejin laughs tauntingly. It sounds so much more attractive than it should, especially when her voice is deep and rich. It sounds… sexy?

Oh, what are you doing? You should feel embarrassed, maybe even petrified at the mere thought of your childhood acquaintance slash new sister slash new crush seeing your dick. But your mind doesn’t brew with insecurities upon seeing her eyes glimmer with eagerness.

She can’t do this. No, no, no, you can’t do this either. Let fucking her remain a fantasy pirouetting in your head, not one that comes true. It’s so much more awkward when it translates into real life where you somehow think it into existence. 

Awkwardness isn’t in Heejin’s dictionary, though. She looks far from uneasy or disgusted. In fact, you swear there’s a small grin dimpling her cheeks. It’s like she’s actually flattered that you’re jerking off to her.

“If I knew you had such a big cock, Jay oppa…” she says, placing a hand on your hip to prop herself on it. You jerk involuntarily, which happens at the worst time; your cock almost brushes her cheek. “I would have let you fuck me in front of daddy. Or would you rather I call you daddy?”

“Why are you here, for god’s sake?” you say. You’re biting your lip to suppress your humiliated screams.

“Well,” she taps her chin, a feat that would be adorable if you’d just cast the situation aside, “I thought I heard something, and it was just as I suspected.”

“Fine, I’ll say it for the third time: Jeon Heejin, get the fuck out of my room.”

“Oh, that’s right. Say my name, oppa. Daddy.” She winks. “Say it and I might just put my lips on this big fat cock.”

“No, you won’t.” 

It sounds more challenging instead of intimidating, and it’s clear that Jeejin doesn’t cower away from dares anymore. “Watch me.” 

She lowers herself onto your lower body and admires your length with bright bunny eyes. “I’d let you blow in my mouth as much as you like. I’d fuck my throat on it and give it a nice good kiss. Oh, right, you wanna know how? Like this.” 

She engages with your dick into an open-mouthed osculation, swallowing the tip and suckling it, too. Groan, but when you pull your hand out to do the opposite to her head, she’s already sitting back up. You really can’t have your way here, not when your new sister knows of her danger and puts it to good use. She’s resourceful like that, and it both impresses and scares you.

Heejin wags her finger in your face as if she were scolding a trouble child. “No, no, Jay oppa,” she reprimands you. “That was just a teaser. If you really want me, jerk off to me. Say my name.”

You can’t say no to her. Well, actually, you can—you just refuse to. You’re fifty-percent scared of the outcome of making this deal with Heejin and fifty-percent excited. There’s an Alice-like curiosity in you that yearns to see what might happen. Would she really keep her end of the deal and suck you off? Or leave you with blue balls like she did earlier?

Wrap your hand unsurely around your penis again. She nods encouragingly. 

Do your usual routine: up and down. Murmur her name over and over, your gaze connected with hers. Her smile grows bigger as your pumps become less measured. You start to spiral out of control. How can you not when she’s just too fucking hot? Her succubus stare, thighs that look fuller as they rest on your mattress, her intent that grows more clear as she rubs your thigh. You’re trapped in lust, and you know you have to settle down a little before you completely lose track of all senses, but you can’t stop. How could anyone when there’s Jeon Heejin as she lives and breathes in front of you?

Say her name, say her name. 

Say it like a poem, say it like it’s one of fame. 

Say it like you’re about to cum, which you are, and your climax isn’t one that’s too far—

“That’s it, Jay,” says Heejin in a tone that’s almost loving. As your cum shoots an obscene, one-direction spurt, she replaces your hand with hers. “Cum for me. You want to fuck me so bad it’s pathetic.”

Her touch is as rough as it is soft. You say it’s too much in between thin whimpers of pleasure, but her flexed hand is determined to keep pumping. Her fist tightens and her jerks grow stronger. 

“Naughty, naughty oppa. Look at this thick hot cum. Is it all for me?”

You’re spraying all over her and her meaty thighs. Her shorts get stained and you try with all your might to contain the bursts of white, but you end up on the edge again. You end up releasing more. Your thoughts run in circles and bump into each other—they’re scolding you, hurting you, asking you why the fuck are you cumming from your new sister’s handjob. You’d answer them by saying you don’t know, but you know the reason probably more than you know yourself: 

Heejin is unbearably alluring, and her giving you a handjob is unbearably wrong. Strangely, both of these facts get you going. The mere truth that she shouldn’t be doing this with you makes you want more of it. Has grief taken a more different route in traumatizing you? Oh god, what would your parents think?

What would Chan think? He trusts you enough to be a good big brother to Heejin. Would you really throw his trust in you away, all for his irritatingly hot oldest daughter?

If you’d take a look at the situation—you having just ejaculated on her—it seems like it.

“No,” you say. It’s a crack in your integrity knowing that you could stress her name in any way or form, and she’d still be hot as fuck. It wouldn’t undo what she did to you and what you let her do. “P-please. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“That’s what makes it fun, right?” She wipes your cum from her thighs with her shirt. “Besides, I did say I’ll make your time worthwhile.”

How does that work? A brother and sister, whether related by blood or not, should bond by having sincere talks and treating each other, not by having sex. 

(But she’s right about the fun part. Looks like Heejin is just as fucked in the head as you are.)

“I want to have some fun, Jay oppa,” she explains. She places her palms on her thighs caked with cum, and pouts. From that, you know you can’t resist. You wouldn’t dare. “Won’t you let me, pretty please?”

She’s both hot and adorable. Hot enough to drive you crazy and adorable enough to convince you to do any of the most mundane things out there. You don’t know how to do this with her. It seems like no matter how cute or sleazy she poses herself as, she’ll always get what she wants somehow. 

It’s dumb of you to even try, but you do: “Okay, what fun do you want to have?” Say this while collecting tissues from the little box at your bedside table to wipe down her thighs. You expected to use the tissues for self-love sessions and nights when the tears couldn’t stop. You never thought that you’d have to use them to clean your cum from your new sibling’s legs.

“You know exactly what I want: I want this”—she points at your cock—”in here”—then at the center of her shorts.

Immediately your already gray morals come out to play. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Heejin,” you say, biting your lip to stay quiet. It’s not intentionally hot or whatsoever, but Heejin’s mind particularly hangs onto that for a while. “We’re brother and sister now. We can’t do this. What if your dad finds out?”

“Aww, I get it. I do, really. But you’re so going to hit my guts if you fuck me right now.” She throws off her shorts, leaving her in nothing but a set of cute pink panties. Then, she scoots herself over so that your cock rests upon her small belly, right in front of her core. “See? You can spread me that well, and I won’t mind at all. I promise.”

Look at your cock and how far it can reach inside her, how it can push her walls apart. Oh god, it’s tempting. Everything about her, from her perfect face to her spread thighs, calls for you to forgo propriety and just fuck her. 

“This bunny’s waiting for you, oppa.” Heejin does more than wait and pulls down your boxers. Pulls down her panties. Pulls down your ethics and morality and principles and everything you used to go by; down they go into the river of fire. “This bunny girl’s gonna fuck herself on this cock. You want that, don’t you, daddy? You want me to ride you and call you daddy. Make me call myself your little bunny. Yeah, I’ve got you all figured out.”

What she’s doing may be wrong, but what she’s saying is right. You, in all unfiltered honesty, want to see Heejin bounce on you and ride you endlessly. Her toned thighs and calves are made for it. She deserves getting what she wants after jerking you off.

But does Chan deserve this: have his new son and his daughter betray his trust? Turn the family upside down all because of lust? 

Oh, who cares what he thinks? When Heejin slides her pussy down your cock in one try despite her refusing tightness, you lose your thoughts. The will to take her roughly, just like she deserves, takes its place. It rules your head with an iron fist, just like how you rule Heejin’s impossibly tight pussy with iron-clad thrusts. 

“Oh, oh, oh fuck,” she gasps. She squeezes her eyes shut and grabs onto your shoulders. Her hold is tight. That’s one thing it has in common with her cunt. “Daddy, you’re so big. I can’t, p-properly ride it, you’re too big.”

Your cock is held hostage by Heejin’s stubborn cunt. She wants it to stuff her fully, but never could let it inside her. She’s too tight. Your hands on her waist, you push her down as gently as you could. She lets out deep groans and sighs. 

“That feels so good, daddy,” she tells you. After that, you achieve a dream you never thought would come true, as light as it is compared to fucking her: a kiss. It’s not as passionate as her bouncing on your crotch, but it’s good enough to have you blushing. “Yes, you like it when your little bunny girl kisses you? You like how tight she is?”

You nod. That’s all you can do when you’re speechless. What else can you say to her? You can’t tell her that it isn’t true when every iota of her words are true. 

“You can do better than that, daddy,” Heejin gasps, head tossed back. A storm of black hair hangs over your bed clothes. “I know you can. Yes, just like that. Do it. Fffuck me harder, I want it, fuck—”

Clearly, slow, precious pumps into her tiny hole aren’t going to work. So it isn’t exactly all your doing when you lift Heejin and suddenly have her pinned to the bed. The balance of power is reversed—you’re now pounding her to your mattress, spreading her legs and propelling your thrusts into the perfect target: her small, damp hole. You take advantage of how wet she is by thrusting bluntly and exclude the rest of your length for a chance to breathe. With Heejin, though, there’s no such thing as breathing. She’s left you gasping for air since your reunion.

“Hnnn, lookie here, daddy.” She lifts her shirt, revealing a surprising set of subtle yet hard abs, where your bulge appears and disappears. “You’re so big that you’re, fu— fucking reaching my tummy. That’s why you have to go deeper. Can’t waste such a big cock, right?”

She grabs your waist to aid your pumps. She must have done some serious lifting in the gym; those harsh tugs and pulls have got to be from somewhere. You’re thrown into a looped route of jamming your tip against her G-spot and cervix hard. Heejin’s grippy pussy refuses to let you go through the night without going down on her. Not that you’d have it any other way. Silly how just moments ago you were telling her not to continue her advances, yet now you’ve advanced past flirty banter with her.

Make it a point, no, a goal to thrust upward rather than only forward. She spreads her legs more, and you reach under her loose shirt to squeeze her breasts. Her nipples are perky and deserve each of your tweaks. Heejin whimpers, as if she were an actual bunny caught into a trap. What a terrible hunter you are, but it’s simply revenge. The disguised predator, Heejin, was actually prey—she’s caught into the ropes she went to with confident hops.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

“Fuck, you’re going to put a baby in me,” whines Heejin. “C-can’t do that, just—no, just cum on my stomach, please. My mouth, my legs, anywhere.”

When she puts it that way, it makes you spite the fact that it’s forbidden. You want to release in Heejin and make her feel your warm cum. Let it infiltrate her womb and give her a baby. You can’t have that happen, yet you want it to happen. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Please,” you say. You’re getting incredibly close that it rides on your tongue like the aftertaste of a dessertful. You can’t believe you’re actually begging to cum inside her, but any man would if put in your place. Anyone who thinks it’s pathetic clearly hasn’t met Heejin face to face.

“Daddy,” she says, “you can’t…”

Saddening news, and she isn’t too happy about it either. The tremble of her lower lip is one you capture with a firm kiss. Your breaths get caught in her mouth as you near climax. And the orgasmic Heejin’s wrapping her legs around you tight, as if daring you to breed her even if she’s clearly told you not to. It’s like her legs, sealed around your hips, bear the weight of the advantages and disadvantages and spread them out for you, yet the thing in between them makes you forget all about the cons. 

It’s scary how you almost give in.

Just in time, however, you pull away and bust a load on her tummy. It’s the product of all the jabs your rod did at it. It’s only fair it gets to show the plentiful result laid all over the muscled skin. 

Heejin looks down at the pool of cum while gasping for air. She swallows, then smiles. “Not bad for a guy who’s gonna be my big brother.”

-

You can already tell having sex with her is going to become a usual affair. The look she flashed you before leaving for school is telling enough. When she woke you up with a sloppy blowjob, saying in between soft suckles that “I have at least one hole you could fill,” you went insane. You’ve made your bed. Now you have to lie in it.

To be fair, you’d lie in Heejin forever if you could. But as a son, you have duties to fulfill. Although Chan told you that you’re free to do whatever you wish, you still have the sense to help around the house. You don’t want to be seen as a burden. You’d want to be anything but the new son who doesn’t know how to do things, especially for your new sisters.

Your new relationship with Heejin, though, exceeds familial bond. Will you hide it from Chan or put a stop to what she’s doing before it transforms completely? Down the road feelings from both ends might get involved and increase the overall taboo of the situation. Chan would probably get suspicious. 

You don’t know what to do.

Take your mind off things. Make an extravagant meal, or at least a style-over-substance one. Follow the instructions of a recipe for mashed potatoes at the back of the gravy powder packet. Hell, you could do this: set cut and peeled potatoes in a pot of briskly boiling water, mash them after smearing them with butter, shake pepper onto those motherfuckers… done! 

Put your masterpiece into a bowl and set it on the table. It actually looks pretty good. Maybe being a chef is your calling. You can already imagine the scenarios you’d go through as one. Chef Jay doesn’t sound too bad, right?

Chan is at work while Heejin’s at college. You’re glad you won’t be seeing Heejin for the remainder of the day; as much as you’d hate to see her go, meeting her would make you feral. She left a to-do list on a post-it sticky note on the fridge door, which looks like it’s been there for a while if you take into consideration the boxes all being checked. 

A more recent one, however, is Chan’s own reminders written on a piece of ruled college notebook paper, apparently addressed to you and Nana: 

Good morning! Have an awesome day ;)

Please treat yourself to the Mcdonalds in the fridge, just reheat it pls

Take care of yourselves, love you!

Ah, you wouldn’t have made mashed potatoes if you knew Chan had left some McDonald’s. You hope that he still remembers your favorite from years ago: a classic Big Mac with medium fries to go.

Open the fridge eagerly and—

There’s nothing?

You know who it is. That voice is decidedly more youthful than Heejin’s, but not anymore that high. It’s Nayeon. Nana, to be exact. Everyone you know calls her Nana in order to avoid confusing her with Im Nayeon who’s somewhere in the line of the kids of your parents’ friends.

Nana’s younger by only a year, hence being the perfect playmate for you back then. The two of you would run around and yell at each other gleefully, basking in the joys of childhood you didn’t know would last that short. 

So, when you step closer to her, you don’t really believe it’s her. If there’s anything in common between the bright Nana and the laid-back Heejin, it’s that they’ve both grown up beautifully. 

“Nana?” you ask. 

Her hair was a silky black then, often wrangled in between with sand and dirt, but now, it’s a mass of coffee brown. It looks like she’s gotten glasses, too, aside from a light fringe that settles prettily on her forehead. 

But then there’s Nana’s body, which you used to pick up as a child to mimic flying heroes with, which has grown… voluptuous. In the volleyball shorts and casual statement tee, it flatters her medium-sized bust and meaty thighs just right.

(It probably even coaxes you into thinking she’s the perfect… girlfriend?)

Her face still is adorable as ever. If someone were to put the cutest face in the world with the perfect body, the outcome would be Nana. She’s more than that, actually; she just so happens to be exactly your type.

Oh no, here you go again. Your feelings for her from your youthful days resurge, and you realize you’ll probably add another fuck-up to the list before this day ends. Meeting Heejin was one thing, but Nana, your first grade playmate slash friend slash childhood crush? Slash new sister? You’re as good as dead to Chan if he finds out what you want to do to her.

“Jay oppa!” says Nana. Her smile has grown more beautiful, just like the rest of her. It’s still cheeky, but wider. “You remember me, right?”

How could you not? “Y-yeah.”

“Aww, sweet!” Nana pokes you on the shoulder. “Anyway, I ate your Big Mac, sorry. I got hungry.”

Oh, so Chan did remember your favorites. 

“One meal wasn’t enough for you?” ask her, grinning. You still got that playfulness in you with her. Hopefully she reciprocates.

She gives you the finger. 

Scoff and turn away with raised hands. “If it makes you feel better, I made potatoes for you,” you announce, “but I guess I’ll have them since you ate my Big Mac.”

“Meanie.”

“Overgrown baby.”

“Jaybird.”

It’s just like the old times, except for today, nobody gets hurt. The two of you know the truth: you’ve missed each other so much. Not a day goes by when you don’t think of each other. You’re embedded into the depths of everyday thoughts, the times when she’d say oh no, I wasn’t thinking of you but only because she doesn’t realize it because you’re layers upon layers upon layers of idle thought. 

It would take an expeditioner to navigate through the history you and Nana have.

You’re childish. What makes up for it is what you say next, because it’s kind of true and isn’t merely something to say just for the hell of it, as you step forward and lower your gaze to her with a sobering glare: “Brat.”

Nana approaches you with her hands folded behind her back. She tilts with each step, as if contemplating on whether she is one or not. “Am I?” 

She’s so much smaller than you, yet your hands fill up when you place them on her hips. Her waist is tiny compared to the slopes of her hips and thighs. Her cheeks (on both parts, to be clear, because you know what you’re thinking) are sizable, too, and you can’t choose between the two pairs on which to squeeze.

“Yeah.”

“Can you handle it?”

You see where this is going. You’re still a mirror of each other, and the glass still reflects lust. “Nana.”

“Fine,” she says indifferently. She hops on the kitchen island and crosses her arms. That should be a sign that she’s going to be anything but. “Be like that. Pretend you don’t know what I wanna do. Even better, pretend you don’t like me.”

She’s got it all wrong. Draw in some air and let it out immediately. “I do like you, Nana,” you clarify. “But—”

“But?” 

How do you tell her what the matter is without revealing that you just had sex with Heejin the night before? You’ve no idea how to go through this. Your feelings for her collide with your attraction to her sister, as well as what you did with her.

No outcome of this is morally right, but who cares for morality? You do, although you’re the last person who should be talking about that. You’re trying to salvage what’s left of your ethics and piece it together to make yourself believe that you’re a good person. Newsflash: you’re not. No good person would fuck his new sister and want to fuck the other, too.

Whir the script you used for Heejin for her younger sister. “We’re family now,” you say weakly. 

Nana rolls her eyes. “Get off your high horse.”

“It’s not a high horse. It’s… it’s decency.”

“Hm. Okay.”

It’s surprising how quick Nana concedes. Her simple answer should have led to a simple result: the two of you never talking about this again and respecting the boundaries of the other. But no, she’s walking towards you, setting her hands on your shoulders. Her mouth is nearing yours, somewhere you’ve dreamed of it residing despite it being so wrong.

“Then stop me,” she dares you. It’s a tougher dare than the ones she made you do on the playground. “If you’re so righteous and don’t want to kiss me, stop me.”

You shouldn’t kiss her. You want to, but it’s something that should never happen. Your feelings for her since your childhood days can’t come out to play when she’s your new sister. No unspoken law of morality says that it’s fine for you to sweep her up in your arms, kiss her, and take her to bed. If you do, you’re committing multiple crimes. 

Nana is the braver felon. She presses her lips on your mouth, and you have to admit, in spite of the wrongness, that it’s everything you’ve dreamed of. Her chapsticked mouth is soft and sweet. You really should have held back. Nevertheless, her tongue is in your mouth, and soon you’re holding her head in your hands so you could kiss her properly. 

She’s turned you into a felon, too. So rob her of her breath. Hold her body hostage on the island. Kill your hesitation. You’re one of the same, yet only one of you has shown any hesitation in doing this. In fairness, there’s still a voice in the back of your head that commands you to stop. 

You don’t listen to it.

“Did your dad put any CCTVs in the house?” you ask breathily. If you’re going to do something wrong, you should at least try to hide it.

“He’s old as shit. Of course he didn’t,” says Nana, giggling. “If you eat my pussy right now he won’t know. Unless, of course, you want to get caught.”

“So you’re scared of climbing trees but not getting caught having sex?”

“Hey, I’m not scared of climbing trees anymore! Now shut up and eat me. Consider this… your lunch, since I had your McDonald’s.”

“By all means, Nayeon,” you say, pulling down the shorts that live up to their name and the flimsy set of pink panties.

“It’s Nana—ohhhh…”

Her correction gets lost and translated into moans. You’re sending quick, dainty licks on her clit. Enjoy the shivers Nana does. You know well to prey on that area after that, besides your experience with an old high school fling and sex ed. You also know to caress her thighs to send chills up her body, somehow even bringing heat to her core.

She’s too light to cause injury, but she almost, almost does when she squirms her hips harshly into your face. “Oppa!” she squeals. Her fingers are wrapped at the edge of the island as she lifts her lower body up for you to devour. “Th-that feels so good—fuck—”

“Thought you didn’t like to curse,” you say. Break the contact with her clit and let your finger take its place. 

“And I thought you were a virgin.”

You don’t realize that your finger rubbing on her sensitive little nub takes the offense out on it. “The fuck?”

“Y-yeah, I know.” Nana hisses. She rolls her hips up and down. “I thought you’d be too scared to have sex with me. You know, besides the obvious reasons.”

“So you’re saying I should be the guy you thought I would be? And stop?”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

Laugh. “Relax,” you tell her. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll eat this delicious pussy of yours till you’re screaming, I promise.”

Nana laughs as well. She rests her calves on both of your shoulders and smiles. “Spoken like a true non-virgin.”

It helps that she’s so fucking delicious. You’d start having her as a rewarding meal after tough days rather than McDonald’s. She’s the perfect balance of sweetness and tanginess, filling your mouth like a rain of sugar. Wrapping your lips around her nub just brings out more wetness and moans that are just as sweet. Her sounds of pleasure are exactly what you’ve fantasized about them being: soft yet high, clinging to pitched tones and increasing in volume when you slurp on her nub. 

Her sounds are so much different from her sister’s. Heejin’s moans are deep and unearth even deeper feelings of lust for her. Nana’s drive you crazy in a different way. They urge you to keep eating her, to keep suckling harshly on her little clitoris so you’d have her stiff nipples poke the front of the cloth of her shirt, to keep doing away with her tiny hole so that she’s begging in that cute little voice of hers. 

She’s more passive than Heejin, too. It took rough patches for you to finally be able to fuck her sister into temporary submission. For Nana, it only takes a few licks here and there, and she’s already shaking. Still, you can’t choose between them. 

Why choose anyway when you can have them both?

Nana, of course, is good enough for now. Though she’s got you in a padlock between her thighs and forcing you to keep eating her, you give in happily. Your hands are curled around her thick soft thighs to maintain her sprawled position on the island. And dear god, are you taking advantage of it. The suction of your lips is almost cruel, and the poor girl has to alternate between loving it and being overwhelmed.

Run your hands along her delicious backside then squeeze the two round globes. She moans appreciatively, and she’s faced with another two decisions to choose from: to reverse herself into your hands so you could play with her ass more or to go forward to have your mouth absolutely devouring her. Both options are sure to provide her pleasure, but she can’t choose just one. So she moves her hips forward and backward, grinding on the tip of your tongue and your rough palms. It feels so much better this way for her. She’s finally found a good routine.

“Oppa, oppa, Jay oppa,” groans Nana. “Please, p-please.”

She doesn’t specify what she’s begging for. She doesn’t need to anyway when you know the answer. That’s why you run your tongue along her soaked labia, then let it peek into the hole they welcome you in. Delve your tongue inside her deeply. Her ass lifts off the surface and you have to pull her down to earth though she’s close to meeting heaven because of you. No, she’s staying here, under your control and touch. She isn’t going anywhere.

Not that Nana would rather be anywhere else. She’s content with having you orally please her. She likes the feeling of being sprawled out before and under you and letting you have your way with her. She was wrong to think you were a virgin; the wildest laps of an inexperienced mouth definitely won’t feel this good.

She should eat your lunch more times if this is how it would end.

“Your tongue, fuck,” she says, voice shattered, “ it feels so good—don’t stop, please, I can’t—”

You don’t plan on it. Nana’s too delicious, too sweet to stop eating of. She’s definitely miles better than what you were supposed to have for lunch. Although your head still swirls at the idea that you’re actually having sex with your crush, hesitation is a faint dream. Her moans, sweet and whiny, prod you on and tell you a story of a climax approaching.

Draw out the plotline by tracing a line from her slit to her pearl, repeat then, shove a plot twist in there by suddenly curling your tongue inside her. She provides the dialogue and ending line:

“Jay oppa, I’m cumming!”

Nana’s screams switch to squeals when you spank her bubble butt while continuing to eat her out. She reaches for your head and pulls it deeper between her thighs, while her other hand rests on her left nipple. The combined pleasure unexpectedly makes her leak of squirted girl cum. Of course, you waste no time in licking that up.

“T-too much, fuck, oh yes,” she gasps. Her breaths are burdened with each word. “Spank me, oppa, just like that!”

Everything you do drives her crazy. From your spanking and sucking, her hips never fail to lose control. They knock, sway, and dance while her pussy drips with more accumulated wetness and cum. Despite her satisfaction, it’s clear that you won’t be able to drink all of her juices when the mere act of doing it forms more.

“Oppa, oppa, stop.”

Pause and look up at her with a mouth smeared with juices. “What’s the problem?” you ask. You’d hate to have done something wrong to her.

“I think daddy and Heejin unnie are at the driveway.”

Shit. You immediately pull away from Nana’s cunt. She barely gets her shorts on right when Chan and Heejin come in. Pray that the kitchen smells of what it’s supposed to instead of sex. You can still catch the slight scent of gratification in the air. 

“We’re home!” says Chan. He comes bearing gifts: supermall department store paper bags strung in a single wrist. You’re strangely more drawn to Heejin rather than the clothes that might be brought home; she counts as a gift, right?

She’s barely wrapped, though. A tube top designed as a blue handkerchief dangles around her bust. The shawl doesn’t exactly play the probable role of a ribbon when it’s thinner than one. 

Oh well, easier to unwrap and break into pieces.

“Hi, Jay oppa,” says Heejin. Her smile is wide; she knows you’re flustered by her choice of fashion today. She looks at Nana with a comparably colder gaze. “Nana.”

Sibling rivalry, you assume? The tension is incapable of going unnoticed. You wonder what it’s for. There must have been history between them. You wouldn’t know, however; you’re an only child. Were. 

“How was the…” you say, trying to break the thickness in the air but find that you don’t have the words to do it. Why do you even bother? Oh, right, they’re your sisters now—as a big brother, you have to try and help them make ends meet. 

“Oh, the mall?” Chan says. He’s unknowingly rescued you from awkwardness. He throws you the bag. “Pretty good! I got you a shirt. Heekki bought some stuff, too.”

“You didn’t get me anything, daddy?” asks Nana disappointedly. The redness in her face is lucky to be passed off as the heat’s doing.

“Maybe if you didn’t spill that water on the floor I’d give you your present early.”

The youngest sister tilts her head, but when she turns around, she realizes what her father means. Just when you thought you’d left the coast clear, there’s one piece of evidence you failed to hide: Nana’s slick and cum. It drools from the edge of the island and on the ground. Even worse, your shirt is stained, too. 

“I—uh, daddy—”

“What? Gonna cry, Nayeon?” Heejin asks. She flashes her sister a taunting grin.

What is going on between these two? Why is Heejin bullying her? Why is Nana looking angrier than she’s ever looked in her life? You truly don’t understand. 

“It’s Nana,” the younger girl replies. Her shoulders are visibly tense.

Chan gives them a stern look. You know what that means: cut it out, or I’ll make you. You’ve learned to translate those looks from parents of unruly children at public places. “Girls,” he pacifies them. “Don’t want to start a fight in front of your new brother, do you?”

“She started it!” Nana says protestingly.

“And I’ll end it. Cut it out and clean your mess up.”

Heejin smiles sweetly yet artificially as her sister obeys what she’s told to do. Then, she drags you to the bedroom out of sight.

Cut to black.

-

“You’re a bad person, Jay oppa.”

Those are the first words Heejin told you after she pulled you into her room. Her kisses aren’t as passionate anymore when they’re more angry than lustful. Her lips mash on your neck, mouth, and chest, all while she unbuttons your shirt with quickness you’ve never seen in her.

Your shirt’s torn off you before it could even live on to be a hand-me-down. An angry Heejin, you find out, can do things like that. She isn’t all seductive and sweet when she’s furious. And right now, she’s burning on every end with wrath.

“I think that’s why you agreed to have sex with me,” she says. Pulls off your bottoms so she can sit her bottom on you. “Because you wanted some kind of fucked up stress relief. And then you see me, and you go ‘hey, I could fuck this girl and since she’s such a slut she wouldn’t mind.’ That’s what you thought, right? That I’m just another dumb slut bunny?”

None of that crossed in your mind. All you knew when you were reunited with Heejin was that you were very attracted to her. “Heejin, it isn’t like that. And you’re not a slut.”

“For you,” Heejin throws her shawl to the corner of the room, “I am.”

She said it, not you. Still won’t agree to it. But when Heejin’s riding you at this pace that you can’t keep up with, you might change your mind. 

Her thighs ripple photogenically when they slap onto yours. Your face can’t say the same. From the moment the door was closed, she pounced on you. She takes the role of a hunter again. She has her hand on your chest and her ass perched on your crotch. It all starts and ends there.

“Oh, and you looove lording it over me, huh?” she asks. She’s yelling at you, angry at you about something you don’t even know yet, which is supposed to make you feel scared. You should be cowering and promise yourself to never ever underestimate her again. Instead, you feel…

Aroused? 

Your cock is hard enough to push past her slick walls and bask in their embrace. You hear your own breaths partner up with Heejin’s.

“You know I like you and your dick so much,” she continues. Her bounces are strong. Days and nights spent at the gym keep her stamina strong. Is she a singer, too? Her voice hasn’t cracked once. Or maybe she’s just that angry. “That’s why you like making me jealous. You know I can’t control myself around you.”

“Heejin, it’s n-not like that.” Surprised that you manage to get those words out of your mouth. All that’s coming from it are moans.

“So what is it?” 

“Wait, is this about Nana?”

She growls. Her pace quickens, and you’re off the edge again, your hands planted on the white mattress shaking and failing to keep you up. Her voice is like a trigger word that shuts all your systems down. 

“See,” she says. She shuts her eyes and bites her lip. “You even, hahm, call her Nana, too.”

Give up on trying to remain stable. Place your hand instead on Heejin’s ass to help her meaningful grinding. “Everyone calls her that.”

“But you don’t even call me Heekki or anything. It’s not fair, you know. You and your fucking crush on that bitch.”

Well, she’s right. You do have a crush on Nana. She doesn’t have that wrong. The thing is—

“I’m sorry, Heekki.” 

You’d tell her that as many times as she wants if that’s what makes her feel better. You still want more sessions like these with her, maybe less violent, in the future, even if your feelings for her sister are beyond mere lust.

Right, Nayeon. Nana. What do you do about your attraction to her? Could you like Heejin and her at the same time? It isn’t fair to both parties, including you. You can’t just lead them on. You’re not supposed to, to be more precise; they’re your sisters. But of course, you break that taboo and are fucking the eldest sister to her guts in her bed after having just eaten her sibling’s pussy. You wouldn’t choose one over the other.

“Hnnn, yes.” Heejin minces her words in heavy, dark tones that sound a lot more desperate than the real her. It really is your fault. You’re making her this way. “Call me that again, Jay oppa. Please? I’m, I’m your Heekki, right? Your only bunny girl?”

Little white lies, little white lies. “Yes, Heekki,” you reply. “Now hop on daddy’s cock like a good little bunny.”

“Yes, of course I will, daddy!” She’s nearly sobbing when she resumes her riding. The flexes of her thighs help her lifting and resting on your crotch. She gasps because of your hands sneaking under her handkerchief top and squeezing her ample breasts. “D-daddy, please, Heekki loves your cock, please fuck me harder!”

Jerk upwards. Heejin’s perfect pussy is a real-life fleshlight. She could be your toy anytime, one you’d bring and fuck anywhere. She’s too fitting for all the secret desires embedded in your heart. Who wouldn’t want a slutty little bunny girl toy like Heejin, with an unexpectedly sexy deep voice and a fit body?

You’re all too focused on her tiny cunt. Her hole is just made to be bred. You have to remind yourself you can’t do it. It’s hard to resist when her cunt is virginally tight and the flesh of her ass is enticing to play with. Even her groans tempt you, all those little whines and pleas shoot right at your heart (and dick.) You want to fuck her like nothing’s wrong, like she isn’t your sister and you’re not supposed to be doing this.

“Daddy, daddy, oh, daddy—” Heejin gasps.

Swipe at her clit and she screams. Shut her up with the finger you used to rub her nub, sliding it into her unprepared yet otherwise welcoming mouth. “Shut up, slut. That’s what you are, right, Heejin? Daddy’s slutty bunny girl?”

Self-contradicting or something. Oh, you don’t know. 

Still with your fingers forcing her mouth open, she nods. “Mmm. Mhmm, daddy, your slut bunny, yes—”

Heejin isn’t angry anymore. Your cock turns out to be the solution to her problems, even jealousy. You’d hate to tell her that her envy is rational. 

How would you tell her?

She sucks on your fingers, eyes glowing with tears of need. “Cumming’n you, now, daddy,” she breathes. “I want to be daddy’s only bunny girl, t-the one who gets to cum around his big cock everyday, please. I’m not mad, Heekki’s not mad anymore, I promise.”

Kiss her, and for a moment you forget about your own trials, too. The world gives its toughest times (resisting the urge to fuck your new sisters dumb) to its strongest soldiers (you).

-

You have more secrets about yourself and what you’ve done than you can count on ten fingers. Not even a sworn oath could drag them from your lips. Torture like waterboarding or a knife to your throat would be useless. Your lips are sealed at all times. No exceptions.

That’s why you’re able to fuck both Nana and Heejin without them knowing about it.  It’s been months and it’s still going on. You can’t believe it reached this point. 

You enjoy the differences between the two girls whenever you fuck them. They don’t think that you’re fucking the other either. The angry sex you had with Heejin *reduced her worries about your possible (and very real) attraction to Nana by a lot.

*(Citation, if required:

The girl was on your thigh, a night when Nana and Chan were out. You and Heejin made up an excuse: we’re too tired. It’s a school night. Some shit. The point is that the two of you threaded the circumstances and made it line up to you being alone. No distractions.

Heejin still calls you daddy, and that time was no exception. She was naked from the waist down. Her upper body being clothed in a tight baby tee didn’t make it less sexy. Seeing how the piece of clothing wrapped around her lithe form turned you on already. To add to that, she was riding your thigh, hand on your length. You made the small living room your heaven.

“Fuck,” Heejin whimpered. She chewed on her bottom lips as she rode your thigh, making use of your bounces and your hands on her hips. “Daddy, how’s it that you’re so good even when your dick isn’t inside me?”

You were flattered. Therefore, (and it was the only right thing to do in response to that), you bounced her harder. Let her grind down on your knee and stimulate her clit on the curved edge. She’s a good girl. No past tense for that one. Heejin is always your good girl, and you’re her daddy who spoils her too much. No past tense for that one either. You truly do spoil her too much—you let her drag you in the bathroom when you’re shopping just so she could drop to her knees to suck you off. You buy her expensive brands though you’re sure she makes more money than you. You do too much for her.

Her payment is better than anything you give her. She’s a good little girl who bounces on daddy’s lap and has his cum as milk before bed. Remembering that, you lifted the baby tee up to kiss her nipples. You let a slight chew ride the edges of the brown little area, then sucked hard. It gave you the reaction you wanted, the reaction you craved: Heejin cumming on your thighs. 

Her grip on your cock was too tight and she never stopped jerking you off. You came on each other, bathing skin with love and lust. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Nana’s the more oblivious one. She knows she has you wrapped around her finger, too much in fact that she doesn’t entertain the idea of you liking Heejin, too. *She was eager but scared at first. Now, she fucks you without doubt, without regret.

*(Another citation:

It was after a meaningful talk that she suddenly brought up that “you haven’t fucked me yet, Jay oppa,” she said. Her natural pout made it easier for you to dive into the subject.

“Sure I have,” you replied. “What are you talking about?”

You thought back to the times you fingered her to squirt and put your mouth on her. Nana was always weak for that, and you assumed that was the only way she liked it. That was why you didn’t bother extending it past that.

“Yeah,” said Nana, looking at the night sky from the terrace, “but you haven’t, like, actually put your cock in me. I want to see it! I want it inside me!”

“Alright.” You sat up. “Sure.”

“Huh?” Her cheeks reddened. She didn’t expect that at all.

“What? Let’s do it.”

“I thought you’d be all hesitant or something,” Nana explained shyly. She looked everywhere except your piercing gaze. “I think that’s why I asked. Um… what am I even saying? I want your cock, Jay oppa.”

“Come get it then.” 

You loved seeing Nana so shy and bashful. It was so different from the playful arrogance she sets when she’s around you. She could be so cute sometimes. 

All the time. You still haven’t gotten over what you felt for her. It’s been long since you were adopted by Chan, yet your crush on Nana’s been longer. You think that maybe she does have the same feelings. After all, why would she let you fuck her? But you keep telling yourself you’re making it more complicated than it should be. To keep on Nana’s good side, and out of your own fear, too, you need to fuck her. No sappy feelings mentioned, just the good ol’ rawdogging.

You’re happy about getting to fuck Nana. Still, it isn’t the same as getting to be her boyfriend.

You went on, nonetheless. The first time she sank down on your length, she let out the cutest sound you’d ever heard. Nana was adorable in every way. Her hands scrunched up to her face like a bunny’s would as she shyly let her pussy take in your size. 

“You’re so big,” she said.

“Heard that a couple of times. What’s new?” 

“Asshole.” Nana slapped your shoulder. “You sure I could do it?”

“More than. You’re almost there.”

You tried to act like you were no stranger to this and therefore didn’t care. It was difficult when Nana’s pussy was so closed around your girth that you had to guide her downwards. Her thighs twitched and her moans were higher than they usually were. When you went down on her with your tongue, she always screamed, or when you fingered her under the blanket while watching a movie. This sound from her, a whiny gasp tangled in between a shout and a cry, was new. 

You wanted to become more acquainted with it, for which you started to thrust.

“Fffuck,” she whispered with a wince. Why was the pain good? It wasn’t supposed to work like that. “Jay oppa, that feels really good.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“Just a little. Just keep, fffucking. Me. And I’ll be okay.”

You couldn’t help it. You dove in for a kiss. You held her face in your hands as you pumped away inside her. This time, you made sure to be careful. It was the first time you had ever penetrated her. 

It was the one of many times, though, that you made her cum.)

“Jay.”

Deja vu hits you. Or maybe you’ve been substituting grief with it. It’s been almost a year and everything still reminds you of your parents. Jay isn’t exempted from that. You zoned out on him, just like you did to your mother and father. 

It’s your duty to look at him and pay attention. He’s done so much for you already. It’s the least you could do. It’s what you would have done if you’d known that fateful day that your parents would die. “Yeah?”

Chan smiles. “Are you alright?” he asks you. He pushes the tinfoiled chocolates towards you. Dessert is an everyday thing in his house. “We lost you there a little.”

Unwrap one and pop in your mouth. “I’m fine, thanks. What were we talking about?”

“I was saying I got a promotion.”

You smile. Good things happen to good people. “Congrats, hyung!”

“Thanks, Jay! But…” Hesitantly, he continues, “because of that, I’m going on a business trip. I’ll be gone for two days.”

Heejin’s eyes widen theatrically. “Oh no,” she says in faux disappointment, “oh no, daddy.” 

It sounds like she’s addressing you rather than her own real father. More context clues: she’s inched closer to you and has a hand on your thigh. She gives it a nice squeeze, causing you to straighten suddenly. This is the riskiest Heejin has gotten.

Steal a glance at Nana, who sits at the opposite side of the dinner table. She’s staring at the two of you with fire in her eyes. While she’s too cute to be menacing, she still sends a clear message: get Heejin off you now. She can’t bear with her sister being all touchy-feely with you, or having you alone with her. If she didn’t want to save face, she’d have pounced on the table to tear Heejin’s hair out.

And she’s got such a pretty, pretty face to save, doesn’t she?

“D’you think you kids could behave while I’m gone?” Chan asks. He scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re all of age, and it’s technically legal, but if you want me to stay—”

“Oh, daddy, it’s fine!” says Heejin. She looks at you sweetly and raises your joined hands. “Jay oppa and I are good friends! We’ll keep the house clean!”

“What about you, Nana? What do you think?”

Nana’s glowering stare at you and her older sister is prolonged and envious. She truly can’t look intimidating with such an adorable face, but you feel her anger. It’s telepathic how she could sit there in silence and still tell you wordlessly that she’s angry. Furious is probably a better term; you can see flames rise from her eyes.

She swallows and composes herself the best she could. “I’ll be fine,” she says quietly.

Chan asks his daughter if she’s sure, and asks the older girl the same as well. He doesn’t leave you out either. He wants to balance a family and work life properly. Both should hold the same weight on the two pedestals. 

That’s how you end up with him gone for two days, and during the first few minutes of his departure, you and Heejin are kissing each other. Nothing more than that is what you promise. Chastity isn’t the best virtue to go by in terms of happiness, but you attempt with what you could to keep it pure. 

This is where you understand the self-contradiction, for Heejin’s stark naked from the waist and up. You can feel every bit of unclothed flesh beneath your palms. You can be the expeditioner, Heejin could be the map. You’d spread her, map out each bit of pale milky skin in the connection of your two bodies’ threshold. You’d tear her and use her to the point of impurity. 

But as you said: chastity.

It’s not like Heejin’s a saint herself. The skimpy booty shorts grind down on your lap as you kiss in her bedroom. Play with her nipples you will, then also take the time to appreciate her soft thighs. 

“These thighs are fucking amazing, Heekki,” you say. The nickname’s a familiar aftertaste in your mouth now. A delicious one. 

“You want to fuck them, oppa… daddy? What should I call you?”

A hand on the nape of her neck, you lay Heejin down on her bed. “I don’t care. Whichever, just make sure you let me fuck these legs.”

“Oppa it is.” Heejin grins cheekily. She spreads her arms just as much as she tightens her legs together, letting you appreciate the smoothness of her pits and her slim, beautiful arms. Not to disregard the muscles denting the skin, though. “Isn’t it so sexy? I’m fucking my big brother, and my little sister can barge in anytime. It’s so risky, right, Jay oppa?”

Slip your cock between her pressed flesh, and you easily discover that her thighs are as good as they look. Slide in, slide out, and repeat the cycle like a habit of vice. You’d never want to recover. Something could speak to you in the back of your head, urging you to let go of what’s wrong, and you wouldn’t listen. Even if that something was, let’s say, Nana?

Speaking of…

“What’s wrong, Jay oppa?” said girl’s older sister asks, curious about your sudden alarmed look.

You’d say a lot of things to her, now that you have the chance to. Only one comes to mind: “I, I think there’s someone at the—”

“I fucking knew it.”

That’s how it all starts. It begins with the scene that goes like this: Nana stands at the doorway with shock veining red in her eyes. Her hand is firm on the door knob; looks like someone forgot to lock before they fuck. That someone may be you or Heejin. You never know. It’s too late, anyway. Nana already knows.

You’d adlib a lot of things in this situation, too. However, none of them sound plausible. You can’t speak when you feel this odd sense of guilt brimming in the core of your heart. Seeing Nana’s horrified expression, you realize that it’s rooted from you thinking you’ve betrayed her. There’s her, obviously being your childhood crush and the girl you’ve fucked weeks on end, and then there’s you, fucking her sister in the bedroom where she’s supposed to flee for sisterly advice and familial gossip. It’s so incredibly wrong, all of it: your girth being locked between Heejin’s thighs, her obviously enjoying the way the underside of your cock rubs her preyed pussy, and Nana, the other girl you’ve been fucking. The other sister you’re fucking.

“You lying bitch,” spits Nana, glaring at Heejin. Such a word should never escape her mouth when she looks that pure and sweet, but she isn’t what she looks like, sexually speaking. Emotionally speaking. “I’m gonna tell dad, and you’re so fucking screwed.”

“Then I’ll tell him you fucked me, too,” you fire back. Venom laces your words. 

Heejin looks at you in horror. “What?”

Oh no. 

Oh god. 

You definitely should have thought before you spoke. Now, the cat’s out of the bag. The taboo secret you’ve tried to hide for so long from both siblings is out in the open. You can’t lie or fuck your way out of this anymore. It’s not going to work.

Nana catches on a loose thread in her sister. She tugs it to sew back her own pride. “Yeah, that’s right,” she says haughtily, “he fucked me, too. What, you thought you were special or something?”

“Hey.” She’s really going in for the kill. You have to put a stop to it before it escalates: “Let’s all just calm down—”

Heejin turns to you and laughs after a short, bitter little scoff. “No fucking way, Jay.” She drops her legs and kicks you away. Tumble into the bedroom cabinet. “You tricked us.”

She’s right. You’ll admit that because you can’t even deny it yourself. It’s true through and through; you hid two secrets from three people: your sisters and new father. But secrets always come to light, and today just so happens to be the day for your dirty little secrets.

“Yeah,” pipes up Nana. “You wanted to use two girls as your personal cumdumps you could just throw away. You don’t—”

She stops. The older girl is awfully silent and suspicious, though you are for other reasons as well.

“Oh.” She stares at Heejin for a moment, then laughs. The palm she’s placed on her mouth is only there for dramatic effect; she doesn’t bother stifling her smug laughs. “Oh. I see it now.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Nana walks over with surprising confidence in her steps and wraps her hand around your cock. That’s the last thing you expected her to do. Your moans are a little rougher this time because of that. Nana doesn’t bother stopping to reconsider what she’s doing: jerking off her new brother in front of her sister who shares her own blood and flesh. 

She pouts so pitiably that it could be a genuine emotion if she pleases. “You don’t let him cum inside you, do you, my sweet unnie?” she asks. “That’s right. I know you don’t.”

Heejin’s eyes go all bunny wide. The irony of it all could be entertaining enough for your average telenovela enjoyer. It helps that she plays her role of the shocked and offended domineering sister so well.

But this isn’t a telenovela; this is real life. You’re actually going through this. You can’t turn it off in spite of your desire to. When there’s the yearning inside you to see what more there is to unfold, though, you give in. You don’t say a word to stop the sisterly quarrel. You simply stand there prone to Nana, who jerks you off with an unrestrained anger.

Heejin, who’s used to playing the cruel girl to her sister, finds herself in a position she’s never had to experience: getting the short end of the stick. Getting pierced by the end of the stick. Was her sister’s all-too-true accusation the forbidden apple to the shame she feels out of nowhere for her naked body?

She stutters. You’ve only heard her stutter when you’re fucking her. It’s so strange to hear how she clumsily stumbles over her words in real life where she’s got no escape. “Okay,” she says, giving up, “so I don’t let him cum inside me. So what? It’s not my fault I’m not a slut like you.”

“Oh please,” scoffs Nana. Waving off her sister’s insult is also a first for her. “Tell me something I haven’t heard before. At least I get to feel his warm, thick cum inside me. You’re too scared to even let him fuck you in a position that isn’t missionary.”

“Girls,” you say, in one last futile attempt to calm them down. Do you even want to calm them down? You’re not sure.

Nana pulls you away from her sibling and smiles with such untainted sweetness that it makes you forget she was mad in the first place. Well, she’s still a little mad for what she says next: 

“Come on, oppa. 

“Let me do something for you that she can’t.”

Her shirt becomes a figment of your imagination. You swear it was on a few seconds ago. But now, you see how it is: no bra. Not even a white camisole. Her perky breasts are there for you to toy with. You have multiple choices, actually: her soft tummy and wide hips are there, craving for your attention. Of course you give it to them, in the form of lingering hungry touches. 

Your lips are on hers all of a sudden. It doesn't even take minutes for you to have your mouths and tongues all over each other, licking where you can and kissing till the lust ferments. (Hint: it would never.) There’s an imaginary time limit going on for you and Nana, and so you’re tearing clothes off each other and stealing kisses as fast and as needily as you can. 

It doesn’t take the whole time limit for Heejin to get jealous. “Get off him,” she growls. She kisses your back, the touch sending shivers on your skin. Her nipples push on you. “You like me better, don’t you, daddy? I’m your Heekki, right?”

You don’t know. As of now, you like the other bunny girl better. “We’ll see.”

“‘Daddy’?” Nana giggles. “That all you got, Heejin?”

“Where’s the ‘unnie’?”

“You’re not the unnie unless you prove yourself to be one,” the youngest of the three of you answers in a sickeningly flattering tone. She brushes Heejin’s cheek. “So what’s it gonna be?”

Heejin stammers again. The smarmy and arrogant her is lost in the jealousy she gathers because of Nana pushing you down the bed. When she sees how you react to it with your needy face and hands on her waist, the anger burns inside her harder. 

Still, it surely can’t be the flame of fury that’s making her this hot and bothered, can it?

Nana backs off to present her ass to you. She circles her hips in the air, giving you a show, then places a hand on both of her cheeks. The denim shorts barely cover up the swells of her ass. “Take this off me, please, oppa?” she asks. And it’s so polite that it isn’t really your fault that you give in and tug the messily cut thing she calls shorts down.

“Daddy!” Heejin says in protest. She’s naked as well, but she’s still left out.

“I think I should be the one calling him daddy here,” gloats Nana. She rubs her ass on your cock. It perfectly pleasures the underside of your length. “After all, he’s the one who’s going to put a baby in me. But I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Her panties slide down her legs. And now, she descends.

Down she goes, but she’s only going higher. Your cock splits her pussy open, and it’s just as good as the first time. Nana still brings the same thrill you get when you fuck her hot body. Her bounces are more precise, and she learns to give you more than just the benefit of getting to screw her—she gifts you a show of her bountiful backside unintentionally clapping with the other cheek.

Spank her for that, though you should really reward rather than punish her when she’s only making you feel good. Doesn’t matter; she loves it. She looks back at you and bites her lip sultrily. 

“Fuck,” you groan, “such a good girl, Nana.”

Her moans are perfected with pitch and pleas. Nana’s expressions are timed well with your thrusts and guiding hands on her hips.

“I’m a good girl, too, daddy,” Heejin says softly. She kisses your mouth. “I’ll show you, okay?”

Chan’s eldest daughter climbs on top of your face. You pull off her shorts as well—you welcome all kinds of pleasure here. Nana slams herself down harder, and right on the second you groan due to it, Heejin’s already planted her pussy on your face.

See, these are the thighs you’ve dreamed of. These are the kind that would actually crush your head. Her muscular skin ensures that your head is subjected not only to thick softness. And yes, you’ve eaten Heejin out before, in times when you’d keep her prone on the edge of her bed while you pull orgasm after orgasm out of her with just your tongue, but this time you do it with increased gusto. The sisters’ blended moans sound better than any choir of your choosing. Name a band as well, while you’re at it, and Heejin and Nana’s voices would still outdo their songs.

“Yesss, thank you, daddy!” gasps Heejin. “Oh, mmm, I’m your good little girl. And because you’re my daddy, you should always eat your good girl out.”

“You talk like an attached trophy wife,” Nana remarks with a snortle. That’s not fair on her part; you know how desperate she can get when you’re fucking her, but you can’t really oppose it when Hejein’s muffling your mouth.

The other girl can’t retort either. Your tongue’s too good to her. “Shut up. He likes my pussy more. And he treats it sooo well, don’t you, my daddy? Better than you do Nana?”

Let’s see: well, you don’t know. Both sisters have amazing bodies you’d do any time of the day. You haven’t really given the intensity you submit to them much thought. It’s hard to think now when Heejin’s urgently riding your tongue while Nana rides your cock.

“No answer,” Nana says triumphantly. “I guess he’s biased there.”

“Hmph.”

“The better girl for oppa is the one who doesn’t immediately cum just because he’s touching them. Bet?”

“It’s a bet,” replies Heejin. She really shouldn’t be giving in to a deal she’s sure to lose; you know what the quintessential quiver of her hips mean. Then again, she’s not one to back down from a competition.

It’s kind of entertaining to see the differences between the two girls. It counts back then as well. It’s like they switched personalities with how the other fits the former just as well. Nana’s not afraid to use you. She rides you at a lightning-impulsed pace, rocking your cock with a tightness you’ll never forget. Her cries are wrapped with weak gasps. On the other hand, there’s Heejin, who’s still used to being the submissive little girl to you when it’s nothing close to her real cocky attitude out of the bedroom, who’s still afraid to use you. Oh, don’t forget her moans—their depth and groany tinge make your cock throb. Too bad it’s inside Nana.

(It’s actually not that bad at all; the pulsing and twitching cause Nana to shake deliciously. Her slow, meaningful grinds bring you to life.)

Hence, you’re fucking Heejin with your tongue faster, with no care for the juices that slide down your chin and the sides of your mouth. Her clit bumps your nose. It’s an advantage you take—you push and pull her back and forth to get her shivering whenever her precious pearl hits the tip of your nose.

Nana isn’t left out of the equation either. Push your lower body upwards so that your tip meets the end of her pussy. Shimmy them so that it rubs her walls. She gasps girlishly and soon finds out that she isn’t made for the fight she started with her sister. She’s chosen to fight the wrong battle.

“I’m close,” she whimpers. Her eyes are sealed shut. “You’re too good, oppa.”

“M-me too!” Heejin says. Her voice is on the brink of a yell. Sloppily suck her clit and she’s past that. “Daddy, daddy, daddy, keep licking me like that, oh!”

“Shit… Jay oppa!”

You’re soaked on both ends. Try to clean up Heejin’s stream of cum the best you could and pump Nana’s slick out of her. In the midst of everything, you don’t stop. You want to keep hearing the girls’ beautiful cries of pleasure. 

“God, enough, daddy,” begs the shaking Heejin. She’s slapping her own breasts, lip bloodied under her teeth. “I want to cum on your cock, too.”

A better premise. “Sure.”

“Wait.” Nana stops the two of you. “Who came first?”

Heejin turns away with pink cheeks. 

Nana’s known her all her life, so she reads that look better than anyone else could. “Of course you did.” She rolls her eyes. “You don’t deserve to sit on his cock.”

“I do…” Her eyes are glossy. Her desperation really doesn’t go away with shame. If she were to be honest, it’s the shaming that deepens it. “But please, daddy, please—”

“Fine. Let’s ask oppa what he wants us to do. We’ll see who’s the better girl for him”

You can’t recognize Nana anymore. You know how big of a sub she can get, yet you didn’t realize how rough she can be as a dominant party in the bedroom. With how she orders around her sister and you, you’d think it’s a usual thing for her. Maybe it is. 

“Nana-ya,” Heejin says, trying to bring the tone she lorded over her little sister with back. It ends up weak—it’s to no avail.

“Do it,” Nana tells her with a pitch of finality. “Ask him.”

“Fuck,” the other bunny girl says nervously. She swallows, then turns to you. You’re just as on the edge as she is. “Daddy, what do you want us to do?”

You have plenty of situations you could make them turn into reality. Some even cross the line. There are already plenty of boundaries you’ve soared past. You just have to choose one out of the many fantasies you have because now that you’re looking back at the chaos of it all, you wanted this to happen. You wanted them to find out. There’s a fucked up voice inside you that insists on becoming riskier, becoming more careless. It’s supposed to be blocked out.

Still and all, there’s Heejin and Nana beside you on the bed, with their shared pouty lips and eyes glistening with want. Said distinct, glossy features give you an idea.

“Suck my cock,” you say finally. In other settings that would have been a grave insult to the average middle school outcast. For Heejin and Nana, it’s the word of a deity himself.

Both girls don’t waste precious time on questioning if two sisters sucking their new adopted brother’s cock is morally right or not. What matters above all is that their lips decorate your length. It’s like they’re determined to give it a bath. It’s the only way you know how to explain it when Heejin’s round, doll-like eyes stare in awe at her sister running her lips up and down the sideless shape of your cock and your sensitive slit. Shiver on the occasion she licks there. Nana knows how to take cock as much as she’s learned into the art of fucking your face. It goes both ways here, you see. You wouldn’t have thought she was the one who was just recently a virgin.

Heejin leaves the tougher things to the expert. While she’s the one who first sucked your cock between the two of them, it’s clear that Nana’s better at this. She can hear your ragged moans. She remains determined to please you. She kisses your heavy balls, sucking on the prickled skin on each and licking at them lovingly.

“Fuck… Heekki…”

That’s a sign for Nana to up her game. She glares at you, and it’s everything but subtle. She throws out all the anger she’s held in her heart after the PDA you put on with Heejin recently onto sucking your cock. Her throat is tight and her mouth is warm as your cock enters and exits, stabbing through the breaths for air that never quite make it to her lungs. She doesn’t mind losing air. She does, actually, but she’s quite more focused on getting your attention back on her.

Heejin doesn’t let up on the competition. Like you said, she isn’t the type of girl to back down from a challenge. Whatever she competes at she’ll give it her all. She might have lost and came earlier than expected just a few minutes ago, sure, but she’s a competitive girl. She always wants to be on top. Or if not, underneath you. 

That’s why her lips alternate between your testicles. Bite your lip to suppress yourself from tugging her hair. It doesn’t work; your hand ends up sifted in her hair and tugging so that her nose pressed on your pubic patch. From there she has to take in your musky scent and have the precum from your tip drip down the side of her face.

“We’re being good girls, Heejin,” Nana says after pulling away from your cock. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” the older one of them admits. She licks the underside of your base teasingly, sending a gasp and a sudden shot of cum out of you. “What d’you think, daddy?”

They seem to not have noticed that you orgasmed a bit. They keep lapping and kissing your cock like nothing could compare to it. No piece of arcade candy or slice of cake could match the taste of your cock. They feast on it, the little devils they are—Heejin decides to take a turn at swallowing your cock whole and succeeds while Nana kisses your thighs. You’re sensitive all over, and they have no signs of stopping. They’ll keep suckling and licking all day if you don’t conquer control again.

Therefore: get up like your latest orgasm didn’t occur. 

“On your stomach. On the bed. Now.”

Soon they’re scrambling to follow your orders. Aren’t they always? Their butts are in front of you side by side. They say sisters have a lot in common—for this situation, it’s the wetness rolling droplets down their luscious thighs and the two replicas of the same, passive look as they turn their heads to you. They’re waiting for your next command.

You don’t give any. It’s all on you now.

Push yourself inside Heejin’s slick pussy. Perhaps she deserves to be fucked, like she says. So don’t bother to extract lengthy inches and just fire short, driven thrusts. Spank Nana to keep her occupied. Her moans are as sweet as her sister’s, much more when you finger her.

Tandem and might. They’re foreign concepts to you since you weren’t a sporty kind of kid. You still find yourself taking all those out on the two girls. You position yourself so that you’re able to pump fast into Heejin while keeping the deep thrusts going while curling your fingers into Nana’s weak spots. 

“That’s not fair, Jay oppa,” she tells you, face buried into the sheets. It’s lucky that you even get to make out a fraction of her words. “I was the one being good.”

“Maybe he just likes me more,” quips Heejin wittily. It’s a lost sound when you punish her with a pronounced pump. Little do you know that she’d find it hot. “Fuck yes, you’re amazing, daddy.”

She gives up on trying to keep her head raised. She drops it and groans with the bed muffling the way of her voice. Who could have ever found out that the tuck of her bottom lip under her teeth, an action so simple, could fruit such lust inside you?

“Of course you’re being good, Nana. Only good girls get bred.”

They don’t get what you mean until you pull out of Heejin and slip into the sister you mentioned. Nana’s back curves beautifully and she sighs as she’s filled to the point of overflow with your hot and sticky cum. You slap her ass hard, leaving a red trace of your hand on her cheek. She grinds seductively into your cock burying itself to the depths of her pussy.

“Noooo,” sobs Heejin, green with envy. “Please, gah, just let me have your cum. I promise I’ll let you cum inside me all the time. Can do it even with my dad watching, or Nana, just please—”

“Desperate little slut. Will you let my naughty big sister have what she wants, oppa?”

In one way or another, Heejin always gets what she wants. She could be the one underneath you, sure, and she’d remain the benefactor.

Such is the beauty of having her cum beautifully and instantly on your fingers after you finger out some cum from Nana’s pussy into hers.

-

Chan never does find out what the white on Heejin’s bed is from. Is it from a girl’s problem that isn’t too known? He doesn’t know. It might be glue. Whatever. He’s not that well-versed into feminine problems, so he simply assumes those are the source of them. 

He also doesn’t know why the sisters suddenly don’t fight anymore. It’s a well-kept secret that you’ve made a pact with them, told them that you could be theirs as long as they kiss you and don’t tell. It works well to keep the sisters in line, and it’s beneficial for Chan, too. He doesn’t have to pacify repeated arguments anymore.

So far the peace in your new home is maintained. The bedroom is exempted.

Obviously. 

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑏𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

prologue | story masterlist | next

Itadori helps you to your feet, and you can’t help but stare at your hand, at the way that it’s tightly grasping his. Even now, it still feels like a dream. You’re actually holding Itadori Yuji’s hand, like it’s no big deal.

Honestly, it’s almost impossible not to fangirl.

But perhaps it’s a good thing that your nose is bleeding right now (not really), because it prevents you from making a total fool of yourself, and so, with great reluctance, you let go of Itadori’s hand and start walking. 

“Man, I’m really sorry about this,” Itadori apologizes again, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I feel awful. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. I know apologizing doesn’t actually help much, but I’m seriously sorry, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you!”

Yes, your nose hurts like a bitch, but being kicked with that soccer ball allowed you to meet him, so in the grand scheme of things, you’re not complaining. 

Still, there’s a lot of blood, so you definitely need to see the school nurse. 

It’s actually for the best that Itadori is walking with you and guiding you along, his hand resting gently against your back in case you sway unsteadily and trip over your own feet. Without him, you wouldn’t have a damn clue where you’re going. It’s the first time you’ve ever stepped foot in this school, after all. Based on what those girls said earlier, it sounds like you’re a recent transfer student or something…? That’s a rather convenient plot device. Although this whole situation is so ridiculous that you would expect nothing less, really.

“Just a bit further,” Itadori encourages. He offers you a bright smile, and you have to squint through your eyes, because he may as well the sun. His protagonist status couldn’t be any more obvious. 

Eventually, you arrive at the infirmary, and Itadori promptly slides the door open and pokes his head into the room.

“Um, excuse me? Miss nurse? There’s a student here who got hurt pretty badly, and she needs help.” 

There’s no response. You follow him and step inside the room. Sure enough, it’s empty, so you can only assume the nurse isn’t here right now. She’s off doing god-knows what. Seriously, what is it with school nurses and never being around to do their jobs? 

“Uh-oh,” you say, a few droplets of blood slipping through the cracks of your fingers and splattering onto the floor. “I don’t feel so good…”

You’re hit by a sudden wave of dizziness, and Itadori catches you in his arms before you can fall onto the floor. Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to carry you earlier. You already know from watching the anime how abnormally strong he is. He lifts you up as if you’re weightless, then gently places you down on one of the beds. 

“Uh, crap,” Itadori mumbles, brows pulling together in concern. “I’m not that good with this kind of stuff, but for now… just lie down, okay? I’ll get you some tissues.”

You watch him scurry around the room, nearly knocking things over in the process, but he returns to your bedside before long, offering you a needlessly large pile of tissues.

…actually, considering how bad your nosebleed is, those tissues still might not be enough.

“Thanks,” you say, shifting onto your side so that you can face him. You grab a few tissues and press them to your poor, aching nose.

What a terrible first impression. Here you are, having finally met one of your favorite characters of all time, with blood gushing down your face. It’s incredibly unflattering, you have to admit. Most people would probably think it’s pretty gross. You’re lucky that Itadori is the nicest, friendliest person ever. 

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes for the millionth time. The poor guy looks guilty beyond belief. It’s not his fault that he’s got superhuman strength. He can blame the author of Jujutsu Kaisen for that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave off, still holding the tissues close to your nose, so your voice comes out a bit muffled. “Accidents happen. I’ll live.” 

“But still! You look like you’re really suffering, and I just—” He stops to sigh. “Anyways, it’s my bad. I can’t change what happened. I just wish I knew a better way to help.”

“Seriously, I’m okay,” you insist. “I don’t want you to keep beating yourself up over it. Um… earlier, I heard someone say your name. Itadori, right? I’m [Name].”

You obviously already know his name. You know even more about him than he does, to be honest. You know what the future holds in store for him, and how soon, his life will change forevermore.

“It’s nice to meet you, [Name].” Itadori chuckles weakly, hanging his head in defeat. “If only we’d met on better terms. After today, I swear I’m never playing soccer ever again. I’m going on strike! Even if those guys keep pestering me to play with them, it won’t happen!”

“There’s really no need to go that far. I promise I’ll be fine.” Hesitantly, you pull the tissues away from your nose. It seems like the bleeding has mostly stopped. “See? I’m already getting better. This is no biggie.”

“Damn. You’re really tough,” Itadori marvels. “Most people wouldn’t be as calm as you. It’s badass!”

No, I’m just too busy fangirling over you right now.

You obviously keep your thoughts to yourself, but it’s impossible to fully suppress the smile that keeps rising to your lips. None of this makes any sense, and truthfully, you can’t help but wonder what happened in the real world—the world you’re from. You wonder about how your parents and friends are reacting to your disappearance, or if you’ve even disappeared at all. Maybe this is some sort of alternate reality. Maybe you’re living within both worlds, simultaneously, without even realizing it.

Ugh. It’s probably best not to think too hard about it. This whole thing is way too trippy.

"The nurse still isn’t here,” Itadori remarks. “I guess it is lunchtime. Well, either way, I’ll stay and wait with you until she’s back.” 

“I appreciate it,” you smile. 

Obviously, the canon plot of Jujutsu Kaisen has yet to kick off, because this is just an ordinary high school, which means he hasn’t met Fushiguro or Gojo at this point. It also means that he’s incapable of seeing curses. But for some reason, you are.

You were able to see that weird insect-like curse from before, when no one else could. That means that you must at least have an above-average amount of cursed energy, right? The curse also ran away when you approached it. Maybe that’s why? Because it sensed that you were aware of it?

Who knows, really. But you suppose it’s a good thing that you’re able to perceive curses. There are some exceptionally dangerous ones out there, and you feel much more at ease knowing that you won’t be completely blind to them.

For a little while, you just stare at Itadori. You make a point of studying all his features, the same features you’ve only ever been able to glimpse across a screen, or while flipping through the pages of a manga. It’s so surreal that you’re able to hold a conversation with him like this. It’s strange—but also exhilarating—to see him looking your way and to know that the smile on his face is directed towards you.

But… all that being said, you know what kind of world Jujutsu Kaisen is. You know how incredibly dangerous the plot will become, and how your life can easily be put at risk. Every fan dreams of being able to interact with their favorite characters, but just because you’re now living in a fictional world, it doesn’t mean you have a death wish.

You won’t be able to spend much time with Itadori. Soon, he’ll go off to Jujutsu High, and you’ll probably never see him again. There’s no guarantee that you’ll even talk after this. The only reason you met was because of some fortunate accident that granted you the rare opportunity to speak to him. He’s a popular guy, after all. There are plenty of other people he’ll be spending his time with.

Still, it was nice while it lasted. You should be content with just getting to meet him at all. You should be grateful for an opportunity that normally wouldn’t exist.

“Oh, there she is,” Itadori perks up. It seems like the nurse has just returned, and he stands up and hastily bows to her. “I’m so sorry! I accidentally kicked [Name] in the face with a soccer ball, and she got really hurt because of me! Please take a look at her to make sure she’s okay!”

“You did what?” the nurse blinks, and she hurriedly glances over at you to find you flashing her a thumbs-up, with a wad of bloody tissues pressed to your nose. A heavy sigh falls from her lips. “Oh, good grief.”

“It looks worse than it is,” you reassure. 

“Let me be the judge of that, please. You should run along and enjoy what’s left of your lunchtime,” she tells Itadori. “Thank you for bringing her. I’ll take care of it, so don’t worry.” 

Itadori frowns. “I hope she’ll be alright. Is there anything at all I can help with? I’ll stay behind if you need me to, just so I can—”

“Everything will be fine,” the nurse insists, unscrewing a jar filled with cotton balls. “Classes will be starting soon, so just let me handle this. Alright?”

“Yeah. Alright. I’m sure you know best.” Itadori looks back at you once more. He smiles in a way that conveys how bad he still feels. “I’ll get going now, [Name]. Again, I’m really sorry for what happened. I hope you feel better soon.”

He leaves moments later, and you exhale softly. This was a remarkably coincidental meeting. The two of you hardly know each other, and you doubt another opportunity like this will arise. It was destined to be a one-time thing. That’s what you instinctively believe.

But of course, you’re wrong.

“[Name], hey! Good morning!”

You blink repeatedly. It’s a brand-new day, and you’re back at school again. Yesterday you went home to find that your parents in this world look exactly like your real parents, except, well, they’re not. They act like them, too. Mostly, at least. In a way, it’s reassuring to have them around, but since they aren’t as bewildered as you are by this new world, you can tell they haven’t been isekai’d. They’re just kind of here. Like placeholders, or something.

Anyways, nothing out of the ordinary happened last night. You had the same kind of interactions with your parents as you normally would. You know better than to question all the semantics, so you’re just going to go with the flow and make the most of this situation.

But right now, you’re rightfully taken aback, because Itadori is grinning ear-to-ear while he waves to you.

“Um, hey,” you reply, blinking yet again. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Itadori keeps smiling. “By the way, how are you feeling today? I heard you went home yesterday after lunch to get some rest, but the nurse told me your nose wasn’t broken or anything, which is a relief.”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you nod. “Apparently it’s not uncommon to get a nosebleed after getting hit in the face. It doesn’t always mean it’s broken. So, I don’t need to go to the hospital to get it realigned or anything. Which is good, because I was really dreading that. I heard it hurts like a bitch.”

“I’m sure it does,” Itadori laughs. He stops himself, though, looking very sheepish all of a sudden. “But, uh… seriously, I’m really sorry about what happened. I feel like I shouldn’t be joking around after what I did to you.”

Aw. What a cutie.

He’s a sweetheart, no doubt about it. You wish you could express how much you’re grateful just for the opportunity to even talk to him, but if you tell him the truth, he’ll definitely think you’re crazy. And so will everyone else.

“Don’t stress about it,” you smile. “There’s just a bit of swelling and slight bruising. I’ll be good as new in no time.”

Itadori beams at you. “You’re so nice, [Name]! Thanks so much for not holding this against me. I’ll try to figure out a way to make it up to you in the meantime.”

You keep trying to reassure him that there’s really no need, but he seems determined to right his wrongs. Together, you walk into the school building, quickly lock up some of your belongings, then you head to the classrooms.

“This is my class,” you say, stopping in front of one of the rooms. Yesterday you skimmed through some of your relevant school documentation, like your student ID, enrollment papers, etcetera. You’re a new transfer student, so thankfully, there were a bunch of papers lying around at home for you to consult. 

Itadori tilts his head to the side. “Weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you. I stop by here pretty often. A few of my friends are in this class.”

“I just transferred in recently, so that’s probably why.” 

“Oh, right. I think I remember hearing that we got a new transfer student. Are you liking it so far? I mean, apart from getting kicked with a soccer ball, obviously.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s been… good. Um, yeah. I have no complaints.”

Mostly because my memories of this place don’t date back any farther than yesterday.

The hallways are bustling with students hurrying to get to class, so regretfully, it doesn’t look like you have much more time to loiter around and chat. 

“I guess I should head to my classroom now,” Itadori says. “But I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better! I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

“Yeah, see you around,” you smile.

He walks off, and within moments of stepping away from you, some other student comes up to him and drapes an arm around his shoulder. He’s absurdly popular, of course. The kind of person that others naturally gravitate towards.

You smile, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It’s still crazy how this is even happening right now. Talking to him always leaves you breathless, in a sense. It leaves you feeling giddier than you can even put into words.

Even though your nose is still a bit sore, you’re in such good spirits that it hardly even fazes you, so you turn around with a spring in your step.

Only to hastily clear your throat.

“Um, sorry if this is a weird question, but… does anyone know which desk I sit at?”

Lunch rolls around, and Itadori returns. 

It turns out that when he said he’d see you again soon, he meant really soon. You watch, mouth agape, as he excitedly waves to you from your classroom’s doorway. 

“[Name]!” he calls out. “[Name], hey! Over here!”

He’s as expressive as ever, and your classmates don’t even look surprised that he’s calling your name with such enthusiasm, despite you having only just transferred in. Itadori’s so friendly that it’s practically a given he’ll get along with everyone.

You walk over and give him a curious look. “Itadori? What’s going on?”

“Nothing much,” he grins. “Just wanted to ask if you wanted to eat lunch together. My treat! It’s the least I can do for you, all things considered.” 

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. I packed a lunch from home,” you say, gesturing towards the bento box on your desk.

He scratches his cheek. “Hm, okay. Well, I guess I won’t buy you lunch today, but I’ll definitely do it next time! Did you want to eat together anyways?”

No way.

You can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s crazy enough that you were able to meet him in the first place, but now he’s even going out of his way to seek you out? You suspect it’s mainly because he feels guilty for injuring you and wants to make sure you’re okay, but still.

Itadori Yuji could actually become your friend? 

“Y-Yes,” you blurt, immediately cringing at how excited you sound. “Um, yes. Thank you for inviting me. I’d love to eat lunch with you.”

“Awesome!”

His grin shows no sign of disappearing, and you race back into the classroom to quickly grab your bento box, heart fluttering all the while.

Together, you walk through the hallways, and it looks like he’s leading you someplace. You can only assume it must be his usual lunch spot.

Eventually, he stops in front of another classroom. It has a big plaque above it that reads Home Economics, but there’s also a paper plastered to the door. A paper that says something else entirely.

Before you can even comment, Itadori slides the door open and looks back at you, grinning yet again.

“Welcome… to the Occult Research Club.”

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[steppenwolfslair]

Im gonna need everyone to hear me on this because some people are being annoying af with some Hansry shit

You can hc hansry running away, you can hc the wedding getting cancelled or whatever. It isn’t that serious. (Yes there is a specific post I’m referencing i will not name anyone i don’t want hate on them because i generally like a lot of their posts but this one and the one they reblogged were just typical fandom policing that annoys the shit out of me i blocked them immediately )

more below

People out here acting like people who do this suddenly can’t differentiate historical fact and fan fiction/head canons. Yes i know historically they couldn’t be together, stop acting like people who do this are somehow erasing or aren’t aware of well known historical fact. These are HEAD CANONS for the love of god.

Another thing to add; the “tragedy” of their relationship is the least interesting thing about them to me, i love the devotion of it, the strong platonic and romantic bond that transcends something being capable of putting into words (Hans himself said it best with the story of Lancelot and Galehaut). So no their relationship isn’t diminished because in an au they ran away together. Maybe to you it is but guess what that has nothing to do with me.

Also people not giving a shit about Jitka doesn’t make them automatically misogynistic. Jitka is a character named maybe twice and is literally just a plot device to be used to represent the marriage and responsibility Hans doesn’t want (that yes is also historically accurate). No it doesn’t mean people are undermining the actual side of the woman in that particular situation that happened in real life. Jitka literally doesn’t exist in the game other than as a concept, of course people won’t care all that much about her. Another example of weird moral grandstanding and arm chair psychology that social media loves so much. It’s an incredibly chronically online take imo.

I could also make “intellectual” sophist arguments how people love to fetishize and insist on gay relationships always ending tragically (no matter the time period ) but that would be wrong and incredibly self important of me because that’s also bull shit armchair psychology and moral grandstanding. People enjoy things the way they want to, you have to just deal with it.

Some of you like sucking the fun out of everything when people aren’t having “your version of fun” so you have to moralize or intellectualize the reason as to why “your version is the correct one”.

And that last statement goes for most fandoms. Some of you need to learn to just scroll away and block people because no not everyone who liked things differently for different reasons is dumber and wrong.

[oddyseye]

Let's talk about Polites in EPIC: The Musical...and Eurylochus.

I do not get the hype for Polites. Yes, he’s supposed to be this sweet, trusting, “open arms” guy who exists to show Odysseus the value of kindness, but he’s an actual walking disaster. He’s a hypocrite through and through. This man fought in the Trojan War — there’s no way his hands are clean — so his sudden push for peace and “let’s all trust each other” feels completely illogical. You don’t get to be a warrior and then act shocked when the world bites back. Here’s what gets me: Polites doesn’t even suffer the consequences of his own idiocy. He dies immediately, leaving the rest of the crew (especially Odysseus) to clean up the mess. His naive, sunshine-and-rainbows approach literally causes everything to fall apart. It’s because of his influence that Odysseus shows mercy to the Cyclops. Look, Polyphemus wasn’t just some big guy with sheep; he was a monster who ate people alive. Odysseus could have stuck to what he does best — being clever, ruthless, and surviving — but instead, Polites’ “let’s be kind and reasonable” act softened him. What did that get them? Poseidon’s rage, storms that killed dozens of men, and an endless chain of suffering. I don’t even feel bad for him because he’s the one who got them into that situation. He got bludgeoned to death, and Odysseus was left holding the guilt and the trauma. Polites did more harm to Odysseus than any monster, god, or storm combined. His naive “open arms” nonsense shattered everything Odysseus built.

His “open arms” philosophy doesn’t even fit the world they live in. This isn’t some cozy, peaceful land — it’s a brutal, war-torn reality where gods toy with humans for sport and monsters eat you for dinner. Odysseus knows this. He’s been through ten years of war, and his leadership is built on cleverness, caution, and yes, ruthlessness when necessary. Polites telling Odysseus to just trust people is like handing a lamb to a lion and acting shocked when it gets eaten. It’s ridiculous. And for all the praise he gets for his ideals, what do they actually accomplish? Nothing. They just put everyone in danger. I care about the impact he had on Odysseus, of course, but not him as a person — because his ideals were dangerous, and his death came way too soon for it to feel meaningful. He was a plot device, not a hero. Meanwhile, Eurylochus gets called selfish, but at least he wasn’t stupid enough to greet the Cyclops or a pretty witch with open arms (and legs).

And keep in mind that, in the original epic, Polites is barely even a footnote — a guy who gets name-dropped once or twice and that’s it. He wasn’t Odysseus’ best friend, he wasn’t some great philosopher of peace, and he definitely didn’t have this huge impact on Odysseus’ leadership. He was just another member of the crew. Yet, for some reason, Jorge decided to pluck him out of obscurity, slap on some manufactured “kind soul” personality, and act like he’s this beacon of morality who changes everything. And for what? Polites’ entire presence in Epic feels like a forced excuse to make Odysseus feel bad about everything. Polites wasn’t important in The Odyssey, so why does Epic act like losing him broke Odysseus? If the story wanted to explore Odysseus’ guilt, fine — but why pin it all on some guy who didn’t even matter in the original myth? At least Eurylochus had a real role in the Odyssey. He was Odysseus’ second-in-command, brother-in-law, and actually did stuff. Speaking of Eurylochus, my man deserves some credit for being an actual human character. Eurylochus makes bad decisions, but at least his choices feel human. Polites, on the other hand, is just...there. A one-note plot device designed to give Odysseus trauma.

I call Polites a hypocrite, while everyone slaps that title onto Eurylochus. But honestly, if anything, Eurylochus is the only crew member who shows consistent growth throughout the story. Eurylochus doesn’t just blindly follow Odysseus or cling to pretty ideals like Polites. Instead, he’s pragmatic, deeply flawed, and painfully human — exactly the kind of person you’d expect to survive years of war and suffering. And honestly? He’s the only one who sees through Odysseus’ contradictions and calls him out when it matters most. Let’s start with the wind bag incident. People love to blame Eurylochus for this, but let’s look at what really happened. Odysseus did tell the crew what was in the bag — he made it clear: “This bag has the storm inside, we cannot let the treasure rumor fly!”

But by that point, the crew was exhausted, starving, and suspicious of their leader. It didn’t help that the Winions planted the idea that the bag contained treasure. That’s what drove the crew to act — greed and distrust, born out of their suffering. And despite the fact Eurylochus didn’t act alone, he often gets singled out as the scapegoat. But reminder that Odysseus refused to let anyone carry the bag, didn’t share its burden, and still kept himself separate from the crew. The men were barely hanging on, and their captain’s secrecy — however well-intentioned — made it easy for paranoia to fester. Was opening the bag a mistake? Absolutely. But it wasn’t just Eurylochus’ fault. It was the natural result of a crew pushed to their breaking point, fueled by mistrust. And when everything blew up — literally — who carried the blame? Eurylochus. Because that’s the role he always ends up in: the fall guy for everyone else’s failures. Then there’s Circe’s island — another moment where Eurylochus’ actions get unfairly criticized. When the men are turned into pigs, Eurylochus does something incredibly human: he panics. He doesn’t want to rush back into danger, and his instinct is to survive. And thus, he suggests abandoning the men and sailing away with Odysseus, which is a harsh and selfish choice. But when he suggests leaving the men, it’s because the situation with Circe is impossible, and the men are trapped. He doesn’t want to abandon them out of cruelty. And let’s not forget that Odysseus’ response is pivotal here. He tells Eurylochus this:

“There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save. I can only hope you’d do the same.” This line changes everything. It plants a seed in Eurylochus that will shape his future actions and, more importantly, his expectations of Odysseus. From that moment on, Eurylochus believes in the idea of loyalty — of never leaving a man behind. He takes Odysseus’ words to heart and learns from him. That’s why what happens later, at Scylla, feels like such a betrayal. When Odysseus sacrifices six men to Scylla to save the rest of the crew, Eurylochus is furious, and rightfully so. From Eurylochus’ perspective, this is hypocrisy of the highest order. Odysseus, who taught him to value every life, now coldly sacrifices six of their men without even warning them. He plans their deaths. “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!” This line hits hard, because it exposes the truth about Odysseus’ leadership. Odysseus demands loyalty, respect, and obedience, but he doesn’t want to share the weight of his failures. Eurylochus’ anger isn’t hypocrisy — it’s justified. He held Odysseus to the same standard Odysseus set for him on Circe’s island, and when Odysseus fell short, Eurylochus refused to stay silent. This moment is a turning point: Eurylochus transforms from the scared, self-serving man on Circe’s island to someone who believes in loyalty and accountability. He learned from Odysseus, only to realize that Odysseus doesn’t always live up to his own ideals (hmmmm who does that sound like, oh I wonder).

And to make matters worse — because of course Polites' chaos wasn't enough — we have the cattle situation, which is basically Eurylochus and Odysseus reaching their absolute breaking points. Let’s get one thing clear: what happens with the cattle of Helios? That’s not Eurylochus being weak or selfish — it’s Eurylochus being human. By the time they get to the island, the crew is starving, hopeless, and barely hanging on. Odysseus’ guilt, Poseidon’s fury, everything else, it broke everyone, including Eurylochus. So when he sees those cattle, he cracks. It’s not just about hunger. It’s about everything that’s led them there: the death, the constant danger, the years of being dragged across the seas because of Odysseus’ mistakes and gods playing games. This is where the lyrics hit like a gut punch. Look at the difference in lyrics: “I need to get home!” “How much longer must I go about my life like this, when people die like this?” And that right there? That’s the heart of it.

Odysseus is fixated on his goal, on getting home, because that’s what keeps him going. But Eurylochus? He’s stuck in the present. He’s surrounded by death and misery every single day. Polites’ naive optimism is long gone, and what’s left is the harsh reality of survival. Eurylochus isn’t wrong for saying “enough is enough.” They’ve been starved, cursed, and hunted; the gods have abandoned them. Why wouldn’t he break? And Odysseus loses it. “You’ve doomed us all, Eurylochus!” And yeah, it’s easy to say that when you’re the one in charge (since Odysseus did not kill the cattle, he holds none of the blame). But Eurylochus was broken by everything that’s happened. The way Odysseus says “I need to get home” feels so disconnected from everything Eurylochus has been going through. Odysseus still sees home as the end goal, while Eurylochus has already seen how much it costs to get there. And when Eurylochus calls him “Captain” instead of “Ody” at the end, it shows that everything between them has changed. There’s no more camaraderie. There’s no more brotherhood. He knows what he’s done, but he also knows that Odysseus will never be the same after this. That shift in how he addresses Odysseus shows how much their relationship has deteriorated — and how much Eurylochus has lost. And let us not forget, Odysseus was doomed from the start.

Polites set the curse in motion. Poseidon was already out for blood. The gods were never going to let them off easy, no matter what Eurylochus did. So let’s stop blaming him for one moment of desperation when he was already broken. People always point out Eurylochus’ flaws, but they forget one key thing: he’s the only one who really gets it. He’s the one who challenges Odysseus when he sees his leader making reckless choices. He’s the one who has the courage to question Odysseus, even when everyone else is too afraid to speak up. If you ask me, Polites represents the idealistic lie — this idea that kindness and trust will save you in a world ruled by cruelty and chaos. Eurylochus, on the other hand, represents the harsh truth of what it means to survive. He’s messy, flawed, and emotional, but he’s real. And unlike Polites, who dies early and leaves everyone else to clean up his mess, Eurylochus stays until the bitter end. He bears the burden of Odysseus’ choices, and when he breaks, he does so in a way that makes you feel for him, not judge him.

Eurylochus never gets the credit he deserves because everyone’s too busy crying over Polites. Polites, who gets to die early and leave Odysseus saddled with guilt. Polites, who delivers one cheesy song about “kindness” and then gets bludgeoned in a cave. I’m supposed to feel bad for him? Sure, his death is sad, but the impact he left on Odysseus and the crew? Utter chaos. He’s the reason Odysseus showed mercy to Polyphemus, which kicked off Poseidon’s revenge. Without that storm, they could’ve sailed back home after the cyclops incident. No Circe, no gravity killing Elpenor, no Scylla, no Zeus obliterating the last of them with his thunderbolt. Polites may as well have killed the 599 men himself. Eurylochus deserved his place in the story. He earned it, and he deserves more credit than anyone is willing to give him. Polites was just a naive dreamer who died too early, leaving everyone to deal with the mess he made.

[cripplecharacters]

are characters with the power of regeneration inherently ableist?

Hey, I don't think I would go as far as to say that they inherently are, but the execution of it often leaves a lot to be desired.

In my opinion there's nothing wrong with the classic “instantly heals up a bloody wound they got in a fight” or whatever because that doesn't have to do much with actual disability. But what I think sucks is all these “this character acquired [real permanent disability] and now their life sucks - fear not! they will get Cured!” and then the quadriplegic character is no longer quadriplegic. This is disability erasure in a very direct way and treats real disabilities as plot points and tragedy material, not as something that's, IDK, real and that real people live with.

It's especially grating when the character only gets/discovers their regeneration powers after they become disabled. It's so painfully cheap as a plot device, “they became totally DeafBlind in an accident, but then their powers awakened, and they magically regained their senses the same week!!!” - what's the point? This kind of backstory adds absolutely nothing. “We made this character disabled and so sad but sike! they are now abled and so happy!” why even bother?

A lot of these plotlines with disability and regeneration in the mix are just cure stories, and that's kind of their whole thing. The disability isn't something that they have, it's something that they had in Dark Times (and entered the Good Times after getting cured) or that happens to them suddenly and an “oof, thank lord I can just conveniently regenerate my disability or otherwise my life would be nothing but suffering!” follows.

As a disabled writer, it just annoys me how unoriginal and disability-erasing they get for no reason. One could write a character who regenerates from something that would otherwise be lethal and becomes disabled as a result (and see that as a good thing), but that would require thinking that being disabled is better than being dead, and it seems like most fantasy writers aren't ready for such a revolutionary thought.

There's also the thing where generally stories with these kinds of characters don't have anyone who's actually disabled in them, so the closest to a disability representation one gets is a guy who regrows his legs instead of becoming an amputee and regenerates his sight after becoming blind. Which is just. Eh.

This is my Personal One Disabled Guy Opinion on this, and I'm sure a lot of disabled people feel otherwise and/or don't feel any way at all about characters with regenerative powers.

mod Sasza

[thefirstflowers]

the way some bucktommy's are reacting now that they've realized tommy might be gone soon is so funny to watch

they are actually, genuinely angry that "tommy was just being used"

like yes, of course he was; that's what a plot device is

and I've been saying this the whole time, but they really do live in a different reality

while we've been here watching a character we've loved for the past six years finally get a much-awaited queer arc, they came in and latched onto a character who has appeared in less than 10 episodes (out of a 106 episode run, mind you)

and I'm not saying they can't have their headcanons (most of which are just traits/plot points taken directly from eddie's character or things they had to pay lfj to pull out of his ass), but they really shouldn't be surprised when the story continues to progress in the same direction it was always going to

like, believe what you will, but at the end of the day the material in the show itself doesn't build him up to be anything other than a plot device to move the story forward

in the simplest terms possible, buck and eddie are the main characters, and tommy will be here just long enough to fulfill his purpose in their story

[luluu2424]

I don't like Isha because she feels more like a plot device than a character

I'm never going to beat the "I Hate Isha" allegations. Oh, well.

I do mean what I said when I say she feels like a weird last minute writing decision. Like, it's weird that the characters didn't talk about her and her Elfen Lied shock value death right? Also, yes I'm comparing Arcane season 2 to Elfen Lied, that's what season 2 deserves.

those of you lucky enough to have never seen Elfen Lied probably want some context. Fare. Content Warning: Elfen Lied has graphic Violence and Sexual violent situations, don't look into it unless you want to ruin your day. It's an Anime/Manga series about Lucy, a woman with horns and telekinetic powers that also has Jekyll n Hyde split personalities. She's believed to be the next step in evolution and there's a big government conspiracy to find her. There's also a lot of underage nudity and over-the-top violence. Yeah... It also allegedly inspired Stranger things. Go figure.

One thing the story was infamous for was introducing super cute big eyed characters that they barely develop, just kill them off violently(the puppy, number 3, Kisaragi, Mariko and her clones, Kanae, and Aiko) and then use their deaths as motivation for other characters(usually Lucy.) Isha definitely had more character development than the average Elfen Lied character, but it still shouldn't be this easy to make the comparison.

With all that in mind it's such a weird writing choice that only Jinx is mourning her/actually acknowledging her death. You're telling me that we don't get to see Sevika, the woman who saved Isha's life once, mourning her. Or Vi, the woman who spent several days with Isha at the commune, and the fact that her life was put in danger was the reason she went against Caitlyn. Or Caitlyn doesn't have anything to say about the fact her friend Jayce's decision to shoot a hole in Viktor's chest was what indirectly lead to Isha's death.

She also about half the time feels like one big plot device to get the characters from Point A to B. "We need Jinx to mellow out for a bit? Let's give her kid to befriend. Don't you know randomly befriending kids cures mental illnesses." "We need a reason for Vi and Cait to not kill Jinx long enough for Sevika to finish the grey plan? Let's have Isha human shield herself for Jinx. It will completely remove any likeablity Cait had left after she gassed Zaun and pressured Vi into becoming an Enforcer, but whatever." Also, it's interesting that Isha human shielding herself for Jinx didn't get brought up more. If I was Vi or Cait, I'd question if Jinx put her up to that as a distraction so Sevika could redirect the grey.

Finally, I want to talk about Isha's muteness. Now I kinda hate how ableist some people can be when talking about her disability. Like, I view Isha as a plot device because the writers wrote her that way. Some bigots online view her as a plot device just because she's mute. As if you can't write compelling mute characters. That being said, the show's choice to kill her and every other disabled character off except Princess Warcriminal is... not great. I genuinely worry about how the writers feel about disabled characters. "Was Isha just written in as a tool for Jinx to vent her feelings?" People use the fact that she's mute to say things like that, and their kinda not wrong, but also, Isha almost never even signs back against Jinx either. She'd still just be Jinx's fangirl cosplayer even if she could talk.

By the way, I'm not disabled myself. If you are and had a problem with the way I talked about that aspect of Isha, your more than free to call me out on it in the comments. God knows more people should've done that in the critique videos I've watched.

[towers-in-starlight]

Some porn—let's call it Type 1—centers on characters doing consensual kink-activities with each other in ways that simulate nonconsent in some ways. Consensual nonconsent, noncon-themed roleplaying, et cetera.

Some porn—let's call it Type 2—drops the indirection-layer and just directly focuses on characters engaged in nonconsensual kinky situations. Characters get raped or tortured, or suchlike, in ways tuned to be hot to the audience but which those characters haven't opted into in-universe.

Type-1 porn can often converge in the direction of resembling Type-2 porn, in the name of immersion. One sees plot devices like "character consents and then uses memory-wipe-magic to forget having done so in order to get the full thrill out of the appearance of nonconsent", and narrative devices like "story POV shifts from the character doing the noncon roleplaying to the character they're playing", and so forth.

But, more recently, I've noticed that this effect is bidirectional: Type-2 porn seems to, in many cases, converge on resembling Type 1, too. It does so more subtly—it doesn't usually draw attention to its doing so in the same way—but it still does so. In particular: there's a pressure, when an author is aiming to write Type-2 porn but also is aiming to maintain a lighthearted tone, towards building the story such that the characters' activities more resemble consensual nonconsent than nonconsensual nonconsent, even as the canonical in-universe state of affairs continues to be one in which the nonconsent is in fact nonconsensual.

Taking, as a particular focus-example here, a certain noncon-focused subgenre of fantasy-adventure-porn—"protagonists go out on adventures, fighting antagonists who want to force Hot Kinky Activities on them, and said antagonists in fact succeed at this meaningfully often"—and in particular the subset of this genre wherein the author is aiming to keep the tone reasonably lighthearted, there's a natural progression of writing-decisions to make.

The nonconsensual activities can't be too traumatic for the protagonists, or for any non-protagonist characters they happen to within the narrative spotlight—rescued townspeople or suchlike—because trauma tends not to be a particularly lighthearted-tone-aligned narrative topic. They may not want the things to happen, but it's a mild sort of not-wanting, often with a substantial element of "it's in fact pretty enjoyable, just [embarrassing / in-violation-of-standards-of-propriety / etc.]" in its presentation.

Therefore, the protagonists and townspeople don't have a huge amount to fear from the antagonists. The stakes are low.

Therefore, it would feel lighthearted-tone-breakingly disproportionate for the protagonists to be too serious / lethal about their fighting against the antagonists. They'll fight, they'll put in real effort, but they won't tend to take measures against the antagonists which hurt them more than the protagonists themselves are hurt by the noncon scenes; thus, in practice, mostly just "beat them up, foil their plans, then leave them to fight again some other day".

Therefore—adding all of this up—there's a fundamental tone of play-fighting and consensual nonconsent to the whole thing. The protagonists are fighting, but not escalating to any seriously-harmful extent. When their fights put them in a losing position, they might struggle and beg against whatever is being done to them, but they aren't actually particularly hurt by it. Even though the events are, in theory, fully nonconsensual, they're not actually particularly different in their substance from what consensual versions of those events would look like. (While being much more different from what a... let's call it 'psychologically realistic'... portrayal of that sort of fighting-and-subsequent-nonconsensual-kink-activity would tend to look like.)

And so, starting from Type-2 porn, we've ended up moving substantially towards Type-1! In a manner pretty reminiscent of—although subtler than—the ways in which Type 1 sometimes moves in the Type-2-ish direction. It's a neat symmetry! And one that is, I think, much easier to miss than its inverse, if one isn't looking closely.

Bibliography

Quarta Amethyst: the game whose story was the biggest proximate inspiration for this post. Very solidly (at least as far as I've played) in the Type-2-converged-towards-Type-1 zone.

Armorverse: a series which often plays around by the blurry edges between the two porn-types discussed here, with occasional forays into both, including into both of the variants where one type converges on resemblance to the other. (Although it doesn't generally include straightforward non-Type-1-convergent instances of Type 2.)

I'm pretty sure I've encountered more stories in the Type-2-convergent-towards-Type-1 genre-space than just the aforementioned two bibliography-lines, although those two are all that's come to memory in the course of writing this post. If any readers have additional examples, I'd welcome reblogs with pointers to them!

[skojukebox]

IDW Sonic 76: Tying Knots

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Lots of spoilers for Issue 76, don't read this if you haven't read that yet!

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The entire Mimic-Duo plotline was something I was content with for a long time because, for most of it, it seemed so easy and obvious what they were doing with it: you were taking a group of characters who were still attempting to ground themselves and learn to get along, and introducing someone who plays on distrust into the mix. Lanolin, who is having a rocky time with the perils of being a leader, is bamboozled. That is the obvious part of things that people pick up on in this story. 

Something that perplexingly falls to the wayside on surface level reading, particularly by younger readers for whatever reason, is Whisper’s side of this as a character with an arc revolving around relearning to tolerate and trust others. It’s part of what makes Mimic such a perfect villain for her; she is being confronted with a character who literally makes trusting anyone a dicey proposition. The Diamond Cutters as a narrative device for her is less about “Whisper relearns how to make friends” and more “Whisper learns how to trust again”. It’s kind of powerful, even a little daring for a silly comic about funny cartoon animals going on adventures. I think it’s what ultimately made her one of my favorite characters. Whisper got me back into Sonic because of this!

The Mimic infiltration seemed like a perfect plot point for both of these two goals. It’s basically like, the ultimate team building exercise. A deceitful bad guy plays a new leader desperate to prove herself and a tough lady with deep trust issues against each other. It worsens and becomes even more interesting with the Clean Sweep sweepstakes because Whisper actively begins to lie to Lanolin in order to lone wolf things. She even takes Tangle along for the ride! It actually got spicy there for a second. But even with that, this stuff is like… Super basic? Yes. It’s the kind of situation you would see in a Friendship is Magic episode, which would end with a gentle reminder to be good to each other and talk things out with your friends. That was what I was expecting.

 But as the Sweepstakes plotline went along, problems kept mounting. For several arcs now the comics have felt like it was laying out plot points with a fair degree of intricacy and foreshadowing. But in the back half of the arc, a lot of things started to mount which I would call at best snap decisions and at worst “tying knots”

“Tying knots” is a very understandable urge a storyteller gets while putting out a serialized tale with a lot of moving pieces. People become impatient, or lose focus, and your carefully laid plans start to look more daunting to pursue. There is an impetus to just patch things up as quickly as possible, especially when stuff is not being immediately received well. So rather than continuing onwards to an inevitably satisfying conclusion, you just tie off those plot threads into a messy little knot of an early ending and go “good enough.” There were several things that reeked of this at the tail end of the arc (looking at you “Clutch knows things about Surge”), but for the sake of brevity, the worst one was Duo being revealed as Mimic.

The reveal itself is bad. Like, it’s funny! That’s undeniable! But it’s still really bad. It was a plotline that IDW was running for literal months across multiple arcs, and they had it end with a throwaway gag of him accidentally having his phone on speaker. This was a clear case of hole-filling; they had run up against a wall where they either didn’t know where to take it anymore or no longer felt comfortable stretching it out, and they just pruned the plotline. They cared so little they made the reveal a preview page, which pissed me off pretty bad when I just got it randomly tweeted to me by the official account as a spoiler, but that’s beside the point.

That was dumb and definitely the most flagrant case of going “fuck it lets get this over with,” but I honestly think the character who was failed the most by the plotline was Lanolin, because this plot does not end with a message about characters realizing they need to communicate better, or that teamwork makes the dreamwork, or really… Any discernible message or moral?

It ends with Lanolin prostrating herself and announcing that she sucks ass for two issues, profusely apologizing, and none of the characters she is apologizing to even reacting to anything. She apologizes for being fooled by the character who also fooled everyone else for like a year. She apologizes for being lied to by Tangle and Whisper. In response to this, Tangle makes fun of her capability to do something, and Whisper ignores her and says she wants to shoot Mimic in the face because she… Learned nothing from this, and I guess was right all along. You can’t trust anyone except Tangle. She’s just right back to her static state of “I want revenge, I'm a badass.” Like… What was the point of anything she’s done over the past year of comics at all? 

I don’t really care about the Diamond Cutters being broken up. Okay, I do, it’s sad and I liked them! It might be temporary, who knows. It’s a comic book, stuff comes and stuff goes eternally. But like… Holy hell, what a failure on multiple levels for that subplot. It makes Lanolin look like a sadsack, it makes Whisper actively unlikable and regresses her character, makes the message of the whole thing such winning ideas as “it’s okay to lie to your friends” and “you better not ever fuck up”. and makes me feel like I just wasted months being invested in the original cast of this comic at all.  

It feels like a truncated and confused ending to an arc if I am being generous, but less charitably like a panic redirect, or even editorial interference. After aaaaall those months of carefully set up, deliberate pacing and foreshadowing, it just kind of gets wound off into nothing and we merrily jaunt off to something else. This is a very, very good example of why if you set out to play the long game for something, you should keep your patience intact, because I guarantee trying to put a slapdash taped on conclusion to it because it’s not quite as well-received as you might have initially hoped will just make a mess of things.

I’m not usually too critical of IDW. In fact, I liked some of the other stuff going on in this issue and will continue to follow the glacial pace of my current favorite comic! But… In summary: bad taped together conclusion with an even worse moral. The bad guy basically won, which is not only very un-sonic-y, it’s also treated with zero gravity. Very poor, slapdash, and left a bad taste in my mouth. Do better, guys!