#i have too much to do to add something else

[jupiterpilgrim]

Sex Cage: Fame, Fun and Fire

Kwon Eunbi x Yujin x Male Reader

word count: 8.5K

part 1//part 2

You and Eunbi are seated side by side at the mall food court, each of you carrying a look of shared anxiety. Around you, the crowd is a tangled mess of shopping bags, kids running around, and people who’ve clearly never heard of headphones. But the noise outside is nothing compared to the storm within.

"So... are you nervous?" Eunbi nudges you, a teasing smile on her lips, trying to ease both your tension and her own.

"Just a little," you admit.

"Look, babe, you need to get used to this stuff. She’s just a girl."

"Not just any girl," you retort, frowning. "It's Yujin."

Eunbi shrugs, as casual as if meeting one of the biggest content creators of the moment were just another ordinary day. "So, she’s famous—big deal. She still puts on her pants one leg at a time, just like us." She looks at you, something warm and affectionate in her eyes. "Seriously, love, when she gets here, you’ll see. It'll be like talking to anyone else."

As if the universe had a particularly cynical sense of humor, a voice chimes in from behind you.

"Found you!"

You both turn your heads so fast you might win an Olympic medal in synchronized movements. And there she is—Yujin, in person, flesh and blood. Taller than you imagined, with an aura that seems to light up the entire food court. She’s dressed casually, a loose black knit sweater with a basic white tank barely visible underneath, and frayed denim shorts that add a laid-back vibe, matched with a studded belt. Sunglasses complete the look.

The brightness of her smile shatters any notion of “just a girl” into tiny, irrelevant pieces.

“Hi... hi!” Eunbi finally stands, throwing herself into a hug with Yujin, desperately trying to keep her composure. You’re still stuck on the bench, trying to convince yourself she didn’t just step out of a fashion editorial.

Yujin steps back from Eunbi and looks at you, a smile that, if you weren’t petrified, you’d swear had a hint of complicity. "And you, aren’t you coming?" She opens her arms, waiting.

You stand, trying not to look like a complete idiot, and she pulls you into a casual hug that, in your head, lasts an eternity. “I was super excited to meet you both,” she says, pulling away and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eunbi, trying her hardest to act natural, replies, “We were too. You’re even prettier in person, honestly.”

Yujin lets out a lighthearted laugh. “Oh, thanks, but look who’s talking. You’re so much more stunning in real life, too.”

Eunbi glances away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Well, I... thank you,” she stammers, unable to hold back a smile.

Yujin removes her sunglasses and glances at you, a curious expression on her face. “And you, honey, are cute too,” she says with a hint of amusement, “but you look a bit tense. Nervous?”

"I... it’s just... it’s my first time doing this," you admit, trying to play it cool. You laugh, but it’s that kind of laugh that gives away every attempt at looking natural.

"Relax. Soon enough, we’ll all be close. Want a decent coffee? I think we have a long day ahead."

Yujin leads the way to a quieter café, and you and Eunbi exchange a look—a mix of awe and satisfaction—as you follow her.

After all, it’s just another day.

Except it's not.

—

The café is an unlikely refuge in the middle of the mall chaos. Unlike the food court, the lighting here is softer, as if the designers decided people spend more if they feel mysteriously cozy. Yujin, of course, looks perfectly at ease.

You place your orders at the counter—a cappuccino for her, an extravagant frappuccino for Eunbi, and a black coffee for you, because someone here had to add a touch of seriousness. With drinks in hand, the three of you find a table by the window, where you can watch the hurried tide of shoppers on the other side of the glass, as if observing a documentary on human behavior in its natural habitat.

Once you’re settled, Yujin turns to you both, firing off, “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d accept the offer. It took you a while to reply.”

You and Eunbi share one of those telepathic glances that only develop after years together. “We were... going through some stuff at the time,” Eunbi answers, a bit awkwardly, as if trying to give a short answer to a question that deserves a thesis.

“Ah, I get it,” Yujin says, with a smile that makes it clear she really does. “Relationships, huh? They always have their ups and downs.”

For a brief second, you and Eunbi glance at each other again, like two students caught off guard by a question in the middle of class. Explaining that, back in the anonymous video days, you were just friends feels like an odyssey no one wants to start. So you simply say nothing. Silence, after all, is one of the most efficient forms of communication.

Unfazed, Yujin continues, as if she has the supernatural gift of skipping over the complicated parts. “So how’s it been, now that you’re not anonymous anymore?”

“Funny,” Eunbi begins. “The first few weeks were... strange. I was afraid to go out, like, what if someone recognized me? But then I realized the world out there is a lot bigger than the view count on my screen.”

“Oh, the ego hates this part,” Yujin comments, with a smile you’d classify as experienced. “But don’t worry. The worst that can happen is someone asking for a photo.”

She tilts her head, her eyes roaming over the two of you. “And your families? How did they react?”

You clear your throat, searching for the words. “Well, only my family knows. Eunbi’s parents... haven’t found out yet, apparently. In fact, not even our friends found out. You know, it's not something you reveal with much enthusiasm. But eventually they'll get to the truth."

“Really? Well, I hope everything goes well when they find out,” Yujin says.

“My family didn’t take it too well at first, and maybe the fact that I revealed this to them when I was drunk contributed to that,” you admit, exhaling like you’re shedding a weight. “We ended up taking a... break for a while, you know? But eventually, they called, and we were able to talk without drama. In the end, they came around.”

Yujin lets out a laugh, this time a bit more bitter. “Parents, huh? Mine didn’t accept it at all. But honestly? I was never a big fan of them anyway. These days, we kind of... don’t talk anymore.” She shrugs, as if it were a small thing and not a complete family break. “Sad, isn’t it? But that’s life.”

And then, right on cue, the drinks arrive. The waitress sets the cups down with clockwork precision, and Yujin holds her cappuccino as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to keep discussing family breakdowns while savoring milk foam.

You stare at the foam on your black coffee, maybe as a symbolic attempt to glimpse into the future. “And you... do you regret this choice?”

“Me?” Yujin raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Not at all. Today, I have my own life, I live super well, and freedom is priceless. By the way, what about you two? Any regrets?”

Eunbi shrugs, leaning over to grab her frappuccino. “Not yet,” she answers, looking at you for a moment as if seeking confirmation.

“Same here,” you add. “So far, nothing’s really gone wrong. I quit my old job and now I have more free time to spend with my girlfriend, helping her with her business. But I confess that sometimes I find myself having some doubts about the future."

“Don’t overthink it. As long as you two have each other, you’ll get through any challenge.” She says it like someone who’s navigated a fair share of rough waters and lived to tell the tale.

You and Eunbi share another look, and this time the smile you exchange feels like a silent pact, an okay, we can do this.

Yujin continues with a casual prophecy. “Oh, and one more thing. This will also become your new normal. In five years, you might not even remember what the old life was like.”

Eunbi tilts her head, pretending innocence. “And is that a good thing?”

“Oh, it’s very good,” Yujin replies, with a smile half genuine, half enigmatic. She takes a sip of her cappuccino, seeming to savor every drop, as if drinking directly from a magic potion. “Freedom can be a little... lonely at times. But honestly? It’s the best thing there is.”

You and Eunbi absorb this in silence, but it’s not a silence that lasts long, as the café door almost trembles when a group of girls enter, spotting Yujin. In an instant, the carefully cultivated tranquility of the café goes right out the window.

“OH MY GOD, YUJIN!” one of them yells with the intensity of someone spotting Beyoncé. The entire café turns to look as you and Eunbi shrink in surprise. But Yujin only flashes that smile she’s probably practiced in the mirror just for moments like this.

She gives a small wave, like a queen in her royal chamber, and the girls rush over, each with eyes sparkling with admiration and a genuine urgency, as if they’re reporters interviewing a celebrity on the red carpet.

“I’m your biggest fan!” exclaims the first one, staring at Yujin like she’s the last source of water in a desert. “I watch all your streams on Twitch. I mean, EVERY one. Even that stream that crashed because of your cat. That part was iconic.”

Yujin laughs, nodding. “Ah, yes. He always thinks the keyboard is the best bed in the house.”

The second girl practically jumps with excitement. “You’re like my fashion muse! I copied that blue hair you had a few months ago, you know? But the blue washed out after like three washes. Any tricks?”

“Sure. First, get a good toner. Then say a couple of Hail Marys. Works every time.”

The third seems almost breathless with adrenaline, as if she’s been preparing her whole life for this moment. “Seriously, you’re everything to me! I even follow your playlist on Spotify. Like, I’m OBSESSED with your workout playlist.”

Yujin, now visibly flattered, raises an eyebrow. “Ah, the workout playlist… a classic.” She turns to you and Eunbi, as if wanting to share a private joke. “It has a certain vibe, you know? Who knew ‘Dancing Queen’ could be so motivating for leg presses?”

Then one of the girls pulls out her phone, eyes alight with hope. “Can we take a picture with you, Yujin? And maybe you could say ‘hi’ on Stories? Just to prove this surreal moment actually happened.”

Yujin nods like a patient teacher. “Of course, let’s do it! Who wants to be first?”

It’s chaos.

Each of them takes a selfie from a carefully studied angle, as if taking an X-ray, and Yujin smiles serenely in all of them, saintly calm. She says a quick “hi, everyone, I’m here at the café with these beauties!” on one girl’s Stories, while the girl herself looks ready to faint from sheer emotion.

Between selfies, one fan glances over at Eunbi, her eyes widening. “Wait… aren’t you Rubydden? Oh my God, I've seen some of your photos on Instagram! You’re so beautiful, seriously!”

Eunbi gives a bashful yet proud smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s me. And this is my boyfriend…”

“Is he also an influencer?”

“Well, in a way... yes,” Eunbi replies.

Another one elbows her friend, not-so-quietly whispering, “Hey guys, now there are three famous influencers here! This café’s getting a five-star Google upgrade today!”

Yujin, clearly amused, wraps up the photos and casually comments, “You girls are amazing. Really. But now let me drink my cappuccino before it turns into iced coffee.”

The girls laugh, enchanted by how Yujin effortlessly combines a hint of farewell without losing any charm. They gradually back away, waving and sending another wave of compliments, promises to keep following everything she does, and even a lone “I love you” from the back of the group.

Once they’re gone, Eunbi turns to Yujin, looking fascinated, almost incredulous. “Does… does this happen to you a lot?”

“Depends on the day,” Yujin replies, picking up her cup and taking a casual sip, as if fans were a weather phenomenon she’s learned to predict. “But lately, I’ve been seeing more girls following me. Ever since I started making content beyond, you know, just porn.”

Eunbi snaps her fingers, like she’s had an idea. “Hey, Yujin… do you think I should start streaming on Twitch too?”

Yujin looks at her over the rim of her cup, like she’s evaluating a new piece of furniture. “Should you? Eunbi, that’s not even a question. It’s practically your duty! And I say that with no pressure, of course.” She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that makes it clear the decision is practically made.

“Besides, you already have everything. You’re charming, fun, and just mysterious enough to keep the audience hooked.”

Eunbi laughs, but you can see the idea starting to appeal to her. She turns to you. “Do you think I should try it?”

“Definitely,” you reply. “And if you need, I can handle all the tech stuff. I can even set up notifications that scream ‘let’s fucking go’ every time someone subscribes.”

Yujin laughs, nodding, and takes another sip of her coffee. “That’s it! People love that kind of silly stuff! Oh, and another thing, Eunbi: Twitch could be a gateway to other types of content. You can show you’re a whole person, you know? Talk about whatever you want. Books, music, I don’t know, the best kind of tea—anything that makes people see you’re more than a pretty face and a name. It’s marketing, it’s fun, and honestly, it’ll protect you a bit from objectification. They won’t just see ‘Eunbi, the hot girl from OnlyFans,’ but ‘Eunbi, the one who chats about everything for an hour and makes it interesting.’”

Eunbi blinks, surprised. “Does that actually work?”

“More than you think,” Yujin responds with a mysterious smile. “And, over time, you won’t even need to explain you’re more than what they see. They’ll already know.”

“So… that’s it,” Eunbi says, looking at you with an expression that’s part excitement, part slight fear. “Get ready, you’ll have a lot of work helping me set things up.”

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s going to be great, sweetheart. And we’ll definitely do some streams together. We’ll break the platform.”

You look at Yujin, a thought bubbling up in your mind. “So, Yujin,” you start, as if about to ask the secret of the universe, “since we’re talking about this spotlight thing… Who’s the most famous adult content creator you’ve ever met?”

Yujin doesn’t hesitate for a second. Her eyes light up, and her smile widens like someone about to recount a legend.

“Karina.”

The word comes out with an almost tangible reverence, and both you and Eunbi lean in slightly closer, as if pulled by a collective magnet of admiration.

“Karina?” Eunbi repeats, curiosity shimmering in every syllable.

Yujin nods, with that distant look of someone who’s seen the Mona Lisa or the Taj Mahal up close on a sunny afternoon. “Karina isn’t just famous. She’s, like... an entity. Tall, graceful, perfect hair and skin, a flawless body, and a sense of style that could make anyone feel like a shabby peasant just by existing in the same room.”

“Hmm, I see. So… she’s pretty?” you ask, choosing the simplest word so it’s not too obvious that you already know who she is.

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “Pretty? Honey, pretty doesn’t even come close. She’s stunning. Impeccable. The kind of person you look at and think, ‘Will my mom forgive me if I drop everything to devote myself to this woman?’”

Eunbi lets out a small laugh, but it’s clear she’s just as fascinated. “And she’s actually nice to talk to and all?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’d expect someone like her to be arrogant, right? But Karina is sweet, kind. When she speaks, it feels like she’s dedicating all her attention to you. She makes you feel like the most interesting person in the world.” Yujin sighs, as if reliving a pleasant dream. “She’s polite with everyone, never makes anyone feel uncomfortable. It’s almost surreal.”

“Wow, she sounds like a myth.” Eunbi sighs.

“Almost, yeah,” Yujin admits, leaning back. “She’s a woman of class, you know? If I were to describe her... She’s like an old Hollywood movie star, but... updated for the internet age.”

Eunbi’s gaze slowly slides over to you, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And you, babe, have you heard of this goddess?”

You clear your throat, trying to keep your composure, but your mind feels like it’s racing to avoid the tricky questions that are clearly coming. “Well... maybe I’ve heard of her... once or twice... around... on the internet.”

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form. “Once or twice, huh?”

Yujin doesn’t miss a beat, her gaze sparkling with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure he knows exactly who I’m talking about!”

“I really don’t know if I know her,” you reply, with the conviction of someone trying to dodge an unfair accusation.

Yujin laughs out loud, shaking her head. “Oh, come on. Everyone’s seen at least one of her videos. She’s practically a cultural landmark. Like... like watching The Godfather or something.”

“I’m not ‘everyone,’” you insist, trying to maintain some dignity.

But Eunbi and Yujin exchange glances and burst into a shared laugh, clearly amused at your expense. “Of course not,” Eunbi says, pretending an exaggerated innocence, while Yujin nods as if fully agreeing.

“Right,” Yujin says, with a wink. “You’re totally immune to that sort of thing, for sure.”

“Okay, okay, but does she only do videos or... anything else?” you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

“Well,” Yujin begins, “She’s also an escort. And, well... they say her rates are higher than the national debt of a small country. But she’s worth every cent—at least, that’s what those who’ve paid say.”

Eunbi scrunches her nose, as if trying to imagine the price and eventually giving up on the math. “So, basically, she’s perfect. Like... the adult version of Barbie?”

“An adult Barbie mixed with the Mona Lisa and a dash of Cleopatra,” Yujin says, gesturing dramatically, as if her hands could illustrate such divinity. “But seriously, I loved chatting with her. Really. We met at a party in Dubai, it was an incredible night, I even got nervous when I saw her, but she was so sweet and patient with me that I almost felt like her close friend.”

Eunbi and you look at each other, sharing a mixture of disbelief and fascination.

“She sounds almost unreal,” you finally say, still trying to process the idea.

Yujin laughs, shaking her head. “She is. And the best part? She knows it. But unlike many, she doesn’t put on a show. She just... exists. And somehow, that’s more impressive than anything she could try to be.”

—

The apartment is bathed in the radiant light of early afternoon as you and Eunbi enter with Yujin, trying—unsuccessfully—to hide your nervousness under a casual façade. Yujin glances around, inspecting the space.

“Wow, what a cozy place,” she remarks. “Seems perfect for a young couple. But who knows, maybe you’ll, say, be able to expand things in the future, huh?”

Eunbi, smiling with a mixture of pride and discomfort, says, “Make yourself at home,” not quite sure what "at home" might mean for someone like Yujin.

“Oh, I will,” Yujin responds, her tone so suggestive that you and Eunbi exchange a shared, nervous glance, caught between laughter and cold sweats. Yujin then casts an investigative look around the room before dropping the question. “Can I see where you two film?”

“Of course!” Eunbi replies, excited. You both lead her down the hallway to Eunbi’s former room, still decorated with vibrant trinkets and stuffed animals. Eunbi explains with a shy smile, “Since we started dating, I moved into his room—it’s bigger. So this one became the studio.”

"You guys were living together before you were dating? That's wild!"

"We were actually roommates and best friends," Eunbi says.

"Oh, I get it! In that case, it's a really cute thing." Yujin examines the space with curiosity, nodding in approval. “Ah, the room I see in the videos,” she says, as if she’s stumbled upon the place where the Great Mystery unfolds. After a moment, she looks at Eunbi with a playful smile. “By the way, can I borrow one of your lingerie sets, princess?”

You blink, confused, and the question slips out before you can think: “Are… we filming now?”

Yujin raises an eyebrow and laughs, as if she’s dealing with a child asking why the sky is blue. “Yes, darling. I have a flight later for a podcast appearance,” she says, patient, as if this were a common part of anyone’s day.

You’re still processing the suddenness of it all when you manage to ask, “What podcast?”

“Sana’s podcast. You haven’t been on it yet, right?”

You and Eunbi look at each other, both trying to imagine the possibility, but Eunbi shakes her head, amused. “Not yet.”

“Oh, but I’ll make a recommendation,” Yujin replies with a wink, like a mischievous fairy godmother ready to pull a few invisible strings. “Sana is amazing. Hilarious, and she was one of the first to give us, adult creators, a place to speak, to give our opinions and combat insults. You guys should go. So many girls only got their break thanks to her support. She’s going to love you, I’m sure.”

Eunbi, now more excited than ever, responds, “Wow, it’d be amazing to do an episode with her.”

Yujin smiles like she’s just made a promise to fate itself. “I’ll make it happen,” she says, giving Eunbi a look. Then, with a casual gesture, she motions to you, as if giving a gentle hint.

“Now, sweetheart… could you give us a moment to get ready?” Yujin asks, more informing you than really asking, with a hint of gentle dismissal.

You feel your face warm, realizing this is your cue to step out. “Oh, sure. I… I’ll wait in the living room,” you reply, trying to seem more confident than you feel.

She closes the door with a cheerful “See you in a minute!” and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

—

Inside the bedroom-turned-improvised studio, Eunbi and Yujin glance at each other in the mirror, half-studying, half-laughing like two friends conspiring over some obscure secret—or in their case, a rather peculiar shoot. Eunbi gestures toward the closet with a kind of solemnity, inviting Yujin. “Go on, pick a lingerie set. There’s lots of colors. And styles,” she says, almost like she’s offering a valuable gem.

Yujin, without hesitation, slips off her bra and underwear, moving around the room with the confidence of someone, well, perfectly at ease with their own body. She picks up a blue lingerie set and holds it up, examining it with an almost scientific gaze. “Think it’ll look good?”

“It’ll look gorgeous,” Eunbi replies, already picking a pink set and undressing, letting her clothes drop casually to the floor. It’s funny how the situation feels both natural and tinged with a certain strangeness.

As she slides the lingerie on, Yujin glances at Eunbi from the corner of her eye. “You’re lucky, you know? Having a boyfriend who supports you in this kind of work… that’s rare.”

Eunbi nods, adjusting the strap of her bra. “He’s really supportive. He’s part of everything with me,” she says, smiling a little bashfully, which Yujin notices.

“A rare man,” Yujin remarks, looking at Eunbi for a moment, now that they’re both in just lingerie. “Most guys panic at the idea of their girlfriend doing this sort of thing.”

She pauses, her gaze quickly tracing over Eunbi. “By the way, let me just say—you look stunning like this, you know?”

Eunbi, surprised and a little shy, laughs and murmurs a “thank you,” adjusting her lingerie with a slight blush. Then, curious, she asks, “Have you ever dated anyone since you started creating adult content?”

Yujin lets out a sound that’s almost a laugh, tinged with a bit of irony. “I tried.I've met a few guys who seemed promising at first, but none of them were looking for a committed relationship. Not with me, at least. My last boyfriend broke up with me when I started filming porn videos. Preferred a life without, well, international popularity.”

“Oh…” Eunbi makes a sympathetic face. “And you were okay with that?”

“Better this way,” Yujin shrugs, almost indifferent. “These days, I sleep with lots of amazing guys and girls. Life goes on just fine, thanks.” She adjusts her lingerie, looking in the mirror with a critical yet satisfied gaze. “Oh, help me with the clasp back here?”

Eunbi steps closer to fix the clasp, still laughing at the comment, then asks with genuine curiosity, “Do you ever think about stopping one day?”

Yujin gives a conspiratorial wink. “When I’m a millionaire, absolutely.”

Eunbi raises her eyebrows. “Really? And is that close to happening?”

Yujin looks at her in the mirror, a smile spreading. “Closer than you’d think, darling.”

She finishes adjusting the lingerie and checks herself in the mirror, turning slightly to see how it fits. “So, how does it look?”

“Beautiful. Sensational. Sexy, even,” Eunbi replies, with a sincerity that’s almost playful.

The compliment comes back quickly: “And you look like a goddess, darling. God, I’d give anything to have those glorious breasts,” she sighs, with a dramatic touch of envy. “But, now, a serious question,” Yujin continues, looking directly at Eunbi. “Are you sure you’re not going to feel jealous during the filming?”

The question makes Eunbi give a nervous laugh, hesitating before answering. “No, no… it’s fine. We know it’s just work.”

But Yujin looks at her intently, as if she wants to be sure Eunbi really understands. “This is purely professional, Eunbi. He’s your boyfriend. Nothing’s going to change. When the camera’s off, everything goes back to normal, I promise.”

Eunbi sighs and admits, laughing a little. “Well… maybe part of me will feel a bit jealous, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Trust me, after the first time, you’ll get used to it,” she says, moving closer, looking at Eunbi with that same piercing gaze. Then, in a softer tone, she says, “You know what’ll help?”

“What?”

Yujin pauses for dramatic effect.

“Kiss me.”

Eunbi freezes, eyes wide as Yujin leans in slowly, a half-smile playing on her lips, savoring Eunbi’s surprise. “Relax, it’s just a kiss,” Yujin murmurs, her tone a mix of tease and tenderness. She waits for a response, but Eunbi just stays there, eyes fixed on Yujin’s lips, the gloss catching the light in a temptation too hard to resist.

Then, as if her body decides before her mind, Eunbi closes her eyes and lets herself be drawn in. Yujin’s lips touch hers softly, making her exhale as if the air suddenly got heavier. At first, it’s a tentative kiss, almost testing boundaries—a gentle brush, the taste of sweet strawberry filling Eunbi’s senses. But soon Yujin becomes firmer, tilting her head to deepen the kiss with a confidence only someone assured could manage.

Eunbi feels a hand slide slowly to her neck, fingers weaving into her hair, pulling her closer, and Yujin’s whole body aligns, pressing against her. “Breathe,” Yujin whispers against her lips, not pulling away, as if she’s guiding Eunbi to let go, to let control slip through her fingertips.

Eunbi releases a small sigh, something caught between nervousness and pure desire, her fingers trembling slightly as she holds Yujin by the waist, clutching there as if grounding herself. The taste of gloss, the soft scent of Yujin’s perfume, now so near, surround her, melding together and holding Eunbi captive, like a slow melody.

Yujin pulls away slowly, but not far, their faces still close enough for Eunbi to feel her warm breath. With that same mix of playful and affectionate smile, Yujin looks directly into Eunbi’s eyes, her fingers resting gently on the back of her neck. “See?” she murmurs, voice low and firm, almost like a secret. “The ice is broken now.”

Her thumb drifts to the corner of Eunbi’s mouth, where the gloss still glistens, brushing as if she’s wiping away the last trace of the kiss, and lets out a soft, satisfied chuckle. “No more tension, no more nerves. Now you know you can trust me.”

Eunbi just smiles back, heart racing, “I do trust you,” she replies, “and I’m ready to start.”

—

You’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone when a gentle voice breaks the quiet. You look up to find Eunbi and Yujin standing side by side, hands intertwined. They’re draped in fine lingerie that highlights each curve, every detail crafted to allure. Eunbi’s pink lace against Yujin’s cool blue creates a sight so captivating you’re left speechless.

Eunbi tilts her head with a small, teasing smile. “Well, we’re ready. Just waiting on you.” She winks.

Yujin leans closer, one brow raised, a grin on her lips. “Are you going to sit there all night or join us?” she teases, her tone light but authoritative. Turning to Eunbi, she wraps her arms around her neck, and they exchange a conspiratorial glance before laughing softly together.

You get up, trying to keep your cool as you follow them to the bedroom. Every detail set, an intimate little scene for just the three of you.

Inside the room, Yujin doesn’t waste a second. She watches you intently, her gaze that of a seasoned expert, and then commands, “Alright, just strip down.”

You hesitate, glancing at Eunbi for reassurance. She nods calmly, a soft encouragement. “Come on, babe. Just another video,” she murmurs, voice gentle but filled with affection.

One by one, you peel off each piece, stopping at your underwear. At this point, Yujin decides to break the mounting tension. She lets out a soft laugh, looks at Eunbi, and says, “Let’s just cut to the chase.”

Turning to you with a bold gleam in her eye, she says, “Excuse me, but I’m going to kiss your boyfriend.”

The air thickens, feeling both heavier and lighter, like some invisible barrier is about to come down. As it should. Yujin steps toward you, each movement filled with confidence, her eyes trailing over you, taking in every detail with a gleam that’s both professional and undeniably challenging.

She stops just inches away, her eyes glinting with intensity, a look that combines business with something raw and thrilling. “Are you ready, or do we need to spend all night convincing you?” Her head tilts, a smirk tugging at her lips, as she lifts a hand to your side, guiding it slowly to her waist.

Just a few steps away, Eunbi adjusts the camera on its tripod, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks as she focuses the lens, aligning the angle carefully. “Just so you know, I’m finding this hilarious,” she says with a smile, though her tone carries an undercurrent of affection and maybe a touch of possessiveness. She leans over to check the focus, her gaze briefly meeting yours before she looks back at the screen. “Better enjoy it… before I change my mind.” Her playful tone barely masks the blush spreading across her face.

Yujin chuckles, seeming to catch her drift. “Don’t worry, Eunbi—I’ll take good care of your boyfriend,” she says, her gaze never leaving yours. And without another word, she slides her hands to your neck, pulling you closer. Her lips meet yours, the kiss starting soft, giving you a moment to settle into the feeling, the sensation, before her fingers dive deeper, slipping along the nape of your neck, as though pulling you even closer.

Your hand moves almost on its own, resting on her waist, where the soft skin meets the lace. Your fingers drift up her back, and the kiss grows bolder, both of you falling into an easy rhythm. There’s a charged energy there, a delicate balance of nerves and a shared sense of release.

In one smooth movement, Yujin’s hand slides down your side to your waistband. She presses against the fabric, feeling the hardness beneath, a playful smile curling on her lips as she kisses you. She applies a bit more pressure, gauging your reaction. You feel warmth spread over every muscle, a pulse of nerves mixed with expectation.

“Oh, so this is how you respond,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours, voice barely more than a breath. Her hand tightens, confidence clear in her touch.

Eunbi, now finished setting up the camera (it's new, now your recordings will be in 4k), watches from a short distance, arms crossed, feigning impatience. “Alright, Yujin, I think that’s enough.”

Yujin steals one last kiss before pulling back, smirking. “Alright, Miss Eunbi, all done here.”

“Perfect,” Eunbi responds. “Now, boxers off, and sit down on the bed, babe. Let’s get started.”

Trying to look composed, you strip off your boxers and take a seat at the bed’s edge. Eunbi hands you the camera, which distracts your mind—focusing on capturing every moment makes it a bit easier.

Holding the equipment steady, you watch as Eunbi and Yujin kneel between your legs, each settling into position with a practiced balance of intimacy and poise. You adjust the camera, aiming to capture every detail as they lean in close. Through the lens, you see Yujin’s confident experience alongside Eunbi’s eager, intense sincerity.

“Alright, let’s begin,” you say, “One, two, three… rolling!”

Yujin moves first, her hand wrapping around your cock with steady ease, her tongue tracing slowly over every inch, savoring each part while her gaze locks onto yours with a playful glint. “Mmm, you taste so good,” she murmurs, tone teasing, confident.

Eunbi watches, her eyes tracing Yujin’s every move, soaking up each gesture and touch. When she can’t wait any longer, she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the base, her gaze intense, filled with adoration and hunger, like she’s taking in every sensation, every detail.

"Like that, Eunbi, slow—make him feel every second," Yujin whispers, a subtle smile on her face, watching as Eunbi tries to match her pace. Eunbi gives a barely perceptible nod, determined yet completely surrendered, as if there were nowhere else in the world she'd rather be. She drags her tongue along the base while Yujin takes the tip, alternating pressure, surrounding you with an intensity that’s almost overwhelming.

"Are you enjoying this, love?" Eunbi asks, her voice soft, thick with desire. She meets your gaze, searching for the answer in your eyes. Her lips brush over your skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat of the moment, each kiss like a silent promise.

"More than you could imagine," you rasp, struggling to keep your focus on the camera.

Yujin laughs softly, pleased by the effect they both have on you. Without warning, she takes you deeper, her lips sliding firmly, rhythmically. Her tongue circles the tip, drawing slow, teasing loops before she pulls you in, creating a pressure that sends waves of tension up your spine. "I'm going to make you lose control, and Eunbi will help," she says, a teasing tone underlying her words, her eyes alight with purpose.

Driven by her own desire, Eunbi switches between soft kisses and playful licks, exploring every inch with quiet determination.

"Yes, just like that, but firmer," Yujin instructs, holding the base as Eunbi joins her, their faces close enough that their hair nearly tangles. The combination of Yujin's precise skill and Eunbi's gentle touch is mind-blowing.

They work in tandem, Yujin taking the head as Eunbi trails her tongue along the base, each motion coordinated, each touch a new peak of pleasure. At one point, Yujin lets a hand slip down to your balls, massaging with delicate care as her mouth moves with increased intensity. "Let’s get this cock dripping wet," Yujin whispers, her gaze never leaving yours, heat flooding your body.

Emboldened by the rhythm and intensity, Eunbi lowers further, kissing along your thighs, each touch warm and light, as though she’s claiming the space. "You’re so hot, baby," she murmurs, running her tongue over your balls, alternating licks and soft kisses, every motion like a declaration of her desire.

The camera catches every detail—the looks, the touches, the mouths moving in perfect sync as Yujin and Eunbi work together, drawing you closer to the edge. Yujin’s eyes hold that knowing, wicked gleam, while Eunbi, lost in her own admiration and passion, gains confidence with each passing second.

They switch off, Yujin licking her way up your length as Eunbi focuses on the head, each pouring all their attention into every touch. In one moment of pure synchronicity, they glance at each other, smiling, and begin sucking together, Yujin lower, Eunbi at the top, her tongue teasing with playful swirls.

"Look at him," Yujin whispers to Eunbi, fingers brushing along Eunbi’s thigh for encouragement. "Show your naughty boyfriend how much you want this."

Eunbi follows her lead, lifting her gaze to meet yours, her eyes warm and inviting. She holds you firmly, her mouth hot and soft around you, sending a flush through your body.

"Now let’s play with your tits, princess," Yujin suggests.

Eunbi pulls away from your cock, her pink lips gleaming with saliva. Keeping her eyes on you, she reaches back and, with a graceful, deliberate motion, unhooks her bra. The fabric slips away, baring her firm, full breasts, her nipples already hard. She smiles, confidence and desire radiating from her every move.

Yujin watches intently, her gaze hungry. "I think we’ll need a little extra help with this, don’t you?" she murmurs, smiling with intent. Leaning toward Eunbi, the two share a conspiratorial look before each one lets a thin line of saliva drip down onto Eunbi’s breasts, warming the already flushed skin.

Eunbi bites her lip, her body reacting, and Yujin slides her hands over Eunbi’s chest, spreading the moisture slowly, her fingers caressing and squeezing. "This will feel even better for you," she murmurs, looking over at the camera, her voice low and sultry.

Eunbi shifts closer, pressing her breasts softly around your cock. The way they are—the skin glistening with saliva, the hard, pink nipples, the slow, careful movements—is perfection. Yujin smiles at you, dimples showing, her confidence somehow heightening the intensity of the moment.

Eunbi presses her breasts tighter around you, surrounding you in her warm softness. She begins to move in a measured rhythm as Yujin helps guide her motions, both of them keeping their eyes on you, capturing every reaction.

"Do you like it like this, love?" Eunbi asks, her voice low, full of affection and lust. She quickens the pace, alternating between sultry glances your way and shared smiles with Yujin.

You can barely respond, caught up in the sight—the gentle, devoted touch of Eunbi contrasting with the predatory gleam in Yujin’s eyes as she takes in each detail, enjoying every moment.

Yujin catches the look on your face, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. "Oh, I think he’s loving it," she murmurs. Then she moves closer to Eunbi, licking her own lips before leaning in to kiss her.

Eunbi sighs against Yujin’s lips, her chest still pressed against you, her breasts soft and warm as she continues moving. "He loves watching us like this," Yujin whispers to Eunbi, a slow, wicked smile curving her lips. "Look how he’s reacting."

She turns her gaze back to you, eyes full of intent, and murmurs, "I love making you feel good, baby."

Yujin pulls Eunbi in for another kiss, deeper and more urgent. She whispers something in Eunbi’s ear, something you can’t hear but that makes Eunbi smile and press even closer, her energy insatiable.

Her hands grip tighter, intensifying the rhythm, each stroke a heated slide against your skin. Beside her, Yujin slides a hand under her own panties, barely containing her own need as she watches, fingers getting wet as she slides them into her pussy, her eyes fixed on the two of you.

"You look so damn good between her tits," Yujin purrs, a wicked smile on her lips. She pulls her hand from her panties, fingers shining, bringing them to her mouth, licking them clean while keeping her gaze locked on the scene before her. "My panties are soaked just watching," she murmurs, a laugh escaping as she bites her lip.

Spurred by Yujin’s words, Eunbi picks up the pace, her breasts squeezing tighter around you, her mouth teasing as her tongue flicks over your tip. Each time she moves down, she presses closer, feeling every throb. "God, this feels so good," you groan, "I'm so fucking turned on, babe."

Yujin lets out a moan of her own, fingers circling faster against herself. "Oh, Eunbi, you're making your boyfriend feel so good… just look at him," she taunts, licking her fingers again before slipping them back between her thighs, her wetness echoing as she loses herself to her need.

Seeing the look of heated anticipation in Yujin’s eyes, Eunbi leans in closer, pressing her breasts around you in a tighter, more intense rhythm, her mouth quirking into a teasing smile. "You want him to fuck that wet little pussy of yours, don’t you, Yujin?" she murmurs, voice low and provocative.

Yujin moans, biting her lip, her fingers digging into her own skin. "Yes… I want him. I want to feel him… all the way inside me," she whispers, her voice trembling with pure need, her eyes ravenous as they fix on you.

Eunbi chuckles softly, not missing a beat as she continues, pressing you even more firmly as she commands, "Then beg, Yujin! Beg my boyfriend, ask him to fuck you just like you want, you little slut." Her voice rings with a possessive edge that only intensifies her allure.

Yujin doesn’t hesitate. She moans louder, fingers sinking deeper as her eyes meet yours, burning with desire. "Please, baby… fuck me," she pleads, voice nearly a whimper, her face an open invitation. "I need that thick, hard cock stretching me, filling me. Please, make me yours. I want every inch of you," she begs, her words broken by gasps as she keeps touching herself, her hips moving in rhythm, fully surrendered to you.

Watching them, the desire inside you grows with each word, each desperate movement. "I'm going to give you exactly what you want, Yujin," you murmur, voice promising, sending a shiver through her. "I'm gonna wreck that pussy."

“Then do it, baby,” Eunbi urges, pulling her breasts away from your cock. “Ruin this little slut’s pussy.”

The tension in the room reaches a boiling point.

Yujin slips off her soaked panties, kicking them aside as she lies back, legs open, body utterly exposed and eager. Her eyes glint with anticipation as you position yourself between her thighs. Holding your cock firmly, you tease her entrance, just enough to feel her warmth but without fully entering. That light touch alone makes Yujin moan, her body arching, begging silently.

She glances over to Eunbi, eyes playful. “And you? Just going to stand there?” She smiles, taunting, face pure lust. “I want you here, Eunbi... want to feel you on my tongue.”

Eunbi chuckles, her laugh sultry and wicked, and without hesitation, she slips off her own panties, moving to Yujin. Smiling, she positions herself over Yujin's face, thighs spread, lowering herself just enough so Yujin can taste her as she wants. “Then make it good, Yujin,” Eunbi orders, voice low and powerful. “I want to feel every lick.”

Yujin doesn’t need another word. Gripping Eunbi's thighs, she pulls her closer, her tongue diving eagerly between her folds, sucking with a nearly desperate intensity, her muffled moans vibrating against Eunbi's body.

Meanwhile, you press a little harder against Yujin's entrance, still teasing, letting her feel each inch but still not giving in. She arches, pressing herself up to meet you, pleading silently. “Please… put it in,” she whispers, voice dripping with need as her mouth never leaves Eunbi, each lick growing more ravenous.

With a knowing smirk, you oblige.

Yujin writhes beneath you, adjusting her hips to take you fully. “Oh god! Oh- Fuck yes! This is what I wanted!” she gasps, her voice thick with desire.

Eunbi, perched over her, grips her own breasts, fingers teasing her sensitive nipples. “Yes, Yujin… keep eating me out,” she moans, voice trembling as Yujin's tongue circles, exploring every part, making Eunbi shiver on top of her. She meets your gaze, cheeks flushed, and grins wickedly. “You like watching Yujin eat me out while you fuck her, don’t you?”

“Yeah… fuck, I love it, you’re both so fucking hot,” you breathe, voice barely more than a whisper.

Yujin squirms under Eunbi’s weight, moaning into her wet pussy, the sound muffled but enough to stoke your own arousal. “Harder,” Yujin murmurs between licks, “make me feel every inch, don’t stop… I want you to fuck this tight little pussy deep.”

You pick up the pace, your hips slamming against her with more force, feeling the pressure building around you. One hand finds Yujin's clit, rubbing in slow circles, and she bucks against you, a louder moan escaping her.

Eunbi watches, biting her lip, her body tensing as Yujin devours her. “Yes, baby… keep going, fuck her deeper,” she encourages, grinding down, forcing Yujin’s mouth to work harder.

Your hand moves expertly, fingers tracing circles over Yujin’s clit while you thrust, feeling each tight pulse around your cock. With each thrust, her body arches, her face buried between Eunbi’s thighs, making her moan louder with each lick, every touch more intense.

Eunbi smiles at you, a mix of pleasure and taunt, biting her lower lip. “Go on, babe… fuck her good,” she whispers between moans, “I want to hear her scream for you.” Her words push you over, and you increase your rhythm, pounding her, Yujin’s body responding to each deep stroke. Her legs quiver, fingers gripping the sheets, nails digging in as her mouth stays busy between Eunbi’s legs.

Yujin, overwhelmed by the pleasure, lets out muffled moans, each sound vibrating against Eunbi, making her grind down, moaning even louder. “Yes… don’t stop, don’t stop,” Yujin pants, her voice broken with pleasure as her body tightens around you, breath coming in gasps.

Eunbi looks at you, her voice soft, almost a whisper, full of encouragement. “That’s it, babe… keep going… give her everything! Make her come, make her feel your cock in every inch of her,” she teases, her eyes bright as she presses down harder on Yujin’s mouth, lost in the sensation of her tongue.

You lean forward, increasing the pressure on Yujin's clit as you thrust deeper, your fingers moving faster, more insistent, the camera shaking in your other hand (you’ll thank the image stabilizer later). Yujin’s moans grow frantic, her body arching again, every muscle tense. “Yes… I’m gonna come…” she cries, her voice breaking as her body shudders in climax, while Eunbi lets out a cry of her own, lost in the rhythm of Yujin’s tongue.

Yujin’s entire body shakes, muscles tight as she surrenders completely, her voice hoarse, almost shouting. “Ah… don’t… don’t stop… it’s so good, so… ahhh, yes! Harder… more… I…!”

Your fingers press down harder on her clit, stroking in time with each thrust as you sink deeper, feeling every pulse of her tight little pussy. Yujin bites her lip, a choked scream escaping as her hands grip the sheets, eyes squeezing shut, lost in ecstasy. “Oh… my… god… I’m… ahhh, I’m coming, don’t stop, please!”

Eunbi, still perched over Yujin, watches, eyes bright with arousal, her own moans heightening as she sees Yujin’s state. She urges you on, her voice soft but fervent. “Yes, babe! Make this slut come on your cock… make her lose control!”

Then, Yujin’s body seizes, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she squirts over your thighs and onto the sheets. “Ahhhh! Yes… yes… ahhh! I’m- Oh God! Mmm, I’m coming…!” Yujin practically sobs, her body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through her, surrendering fully to the overwhelming intensity.

Eunbi lifts herself, lips parted, watching Yujin with awe. “My god, Yujin… look what he’s done to you,” she murmurs, barely holding back her own desire.

Still flushed and breathing heavily, Yujin laughs quietly, her cheeks pink, eyes half-lidded as she looks up at you, body still tingling from the aftermath. “Fuck… that cock… made me come so good,” she whispers with a smile, gaze locked on you.

Eunbi, eyes alight with a mix of possessiveness and lust, gives you a provocative smile, biting her lower lip. “So… now you’re going to fuck your girlfriend, aren’t you?” Her voice is laced with challenge and excitement. She positions herself at the edge of the bed, on all fours, ass lifted toward you, offering you the perfect view, while Yujin moves up, legs spread wide in front of your girlfriend.

With a mischievous glint, she spreads her wet folds with her fingers, beckoning Eunbi’s face closer. “Come, Eunbi… lick me while he fucks you,” she whispers, her hand gripping Eunbi’s hair, guiding her closer. “Yes, give me that tongue… show me how well you can eat pussy,” Yujin continues, moaning as Eunbi’s mouth begins to work on her.

Standing behind, you position your cock and slide slowly into Eunbi, feeling her hot, tight walls surround you. A groan escapes your lips as you sink deeper into her, each inch pulling you in. “Fuck, Eunbi… you’re so wet… so good,” you whisper, lost in the intense pleasure.

Eunbi, gasping between licks on Yujin, pants. “Yes, babe… fuck me… deeper… I want to feel you filling me.” She moves back against you, hips circling, each thrust pulling you in further, her ass trembling with each motion, every deep stroke drawing fresh moans from her.

Yujin, delirious from the feel of Eunbi’s tongue against her dripping cunt, grabs her hair, pulling just a little to savor every lick even deeper. “Ahhh, Eunbi, just like that… keep going… Mmm, you're such a slut!” she breathes, her words slipping between moans, eyes squeezed shut as each brush of that soft, wet tongue over her sensitive folds drives her wild.

The tension surges as you thrust deeper, your hands gripping Eunbi’s hips tightly, each push pulling louder, needier sounds from her. “Fuck… so tight,” you murmur, feeling her wetness, her warmth, tightening around every inch as you plunge in. Eunbi can barely keep up as she sucks Yujin, her own body trembling, pressing back against you, every move inviting you to go harder, deeper.

Yujin watches, her lips parted, a throaty moan escaping as she locks eyes with the sight of you taking your girlfriend. “Mmm, fuck,” she chuckles between moans, “You two are so fucking hot!”

Your grip on Eunbi’s waist tightens, her slick cunt clenching around you, and you lean close to her ear. “I’m taking that sweet ass next, babe.” She shivers, biting her lip, and breathes a shaky response. “Yeah, do it… fuck my ass… I want it,” she whimpers, her voice thick with excitement and anticipation.

You guide yourself, pressing the head of your cock slowly against her tight little opening, watching her stretch to take you in. Bit by bit, you slide forward, filling her.

“Ahhh… so tight,” you murmur, your breaths ragged as you film every inch with the new camera, capturing in 4K the way her snug ass opens around you. Eunbi lets out a loud moan, her head thrown back. “Yes, take it… let him wreck that ass,” Yujin whispers to her, reaching down to touch herself as she watches.

“Yes… yes, fuck my ass… fill me, go deeper…,” Eunbi moans, her voice quivering, her whole body alight as you sink in.

Holding her hip firmly, you draw her back, your cock fitting fully inside her tight hole, feeling each part of her yielding to your slow, deliberate rhythm. She lets out a long, low groan, head thrown back, face twisted in a blend of pain and pleasure as she adjusts to the intense stretch.

“Ohh, yeah… keep going… fill me up, I can take it,” she moans, eyes half-lidded, biting her lip, face flushed in pure ecstasy. Each thrust is a new adjustment, feeling her intense tightness, each slide bringing a fresh wave of sensation. “You love this, don’t you, you little slut?” you taunt, voice gravelly, pushing deeper.

Eunbi squirms, her body trembling with each thrust. “Mmm, Yes! Fuck, I love feeling you wreck me… Keep using me, babe, keep- Oh! Like that, baby! Yeah!” she responds, voice shaky, cut off by erratic moans, completely surrendered. With each thrust, the wet, filthy sounds fill the room, bodies colliding in raw, unrestrained passion.

Yujin, still watching close by, runs a hand down her own dripping pussy, eyes fixed on the scene, filled with lust. “God, look at her… you’re destroying her ass,” she whispers, her voice loaded with excitement.

Your firm grip on Eunbi’s hips pulls her back, every inch sinking deep into her tight little ass, feeling her muscles surrender to the slow, deliberate rhythm. She lets out a long, low moan, her head thrown back, her face mixing pain and pleasure as she adjusts to the intense stretch.

"Fuck, babe, watching you eat her pussy gets me so fucking hot," you growl, voice rough, thrusting even deeper. Your hand rises, landing a hard slap on her ass.

“Ow, babe! Yes, slap me! Don’t stop, wreck my little ass, fuck me good!”

Eunbi's moans fill the room, blending with the sound of your hips colliding with her body. Each movement is met with a sharp smack that leaves her skin tingling. “Ahhh, harder… fuck, go deeper… break me,” she begs, her voice hoarse, totally lost in the intense pleasure as you keep pounding, every slap drawing a new moan, louder and dripping with lust.

Yujin, lying on the bed with her legs spread, holds Eunbi’s face firmly, guiding her back to keep licking. “You two are going to make me cum just watching… keep sucking, baby… Mmm, yeah! Just like that! I’m so close, don’t stop!” Yujin moans, her voice trembling as her body arches, writhing with pleasure under Eunbi’s relentless tongue work. Eunbi’s mouth moves faster, sucking with fervor.

“Yeah, Yujin, cum all over her mouth… let my girl taste you,” you say, watching the wild scene unfolding, slowing your thrusts to let Eunbi focus on making Yujin climax. Your girlfriend responds with a muffled moan, intensifying her movements, eyes shut tight in pure concentration, determined to bring Yujin to the edge.

Eunbi feels Yujin’s body tense under her tongue, each shudder racing through her like a live current, her moans rising until they turn into raw, guttural cries. “Ahhh… yes, Eunbi… right there… make me cum, don’t stop!” Yujin practically screams, her nails digging into the sheets, back arching, utterly lost in the moment. Her breaths come fast, each gasp a wave, as Eunbi continues licking with unwavering devotion, her tongue tracing and exploring every wet, trembling inch.

Eunbi, lips and mouth fully devoted to Yujin’s pleasure, mutters through a mouth full of desire, “Cum for me, you dirty slut.” She grips Yujin’s thighs, pulling her closer, not letting any motion escape, savoring every drop. Yujin, utterly spent, sinks her head into the pillows, moaning as the waves of an overwhelming orgasm crash over her.

“Fuck, Eunbi… ahhhh… I’m cumming… cumming in your mouth…!” Yujin gasps, lost in breathless moans and broken cries.

Eunbi’s tongue laps eagerly, drinking in every drop of the hot release that spills from Yujin. She swallows it all, low moans vibrating as she savors the rich taste. With her face still glistening, Eunbi leans back, enough to release a heavy sigh, feeling you sliding your cock in and out, slow and deliberate. “Ahh… I’m close too… almost there,” she whispers, voice thick with need. Yujin, still basking in the glow, laughs softly, a wicked gleam in her eye, as she slowly rises, hand reaching out to take the camera from you with a playful grin. “Let me handle this now… it’s time to make this sexy girl lose it.”

You pull slowly out of Eunbi’s ass, watching her shiver from the sudden emptiness. Now with the camera in Yujin’s hands, the heat in the room rises even more. “I’m capturing everything from this angle… from below, catching every detail.” She asks Eunbi to stand up, guiding you both to place a leg on the bed, opening up to the camera’s raw, unfiltered view.

The two of you follow, adjusting your legs as Yujin instructed, exposing your bodies fully to the camera’s keen eye. Breathing heavily, Eunbi steadies herself, half-closed eyes watching as you position yourself behind her, ready to continue. Yujin kneels just beneath her, angling the camera from the floor so it perfectly captures your cock lined up to press back into Eunbi’s ass, her face already anticipating the pleasure. “Go on, honey… I want to see you ruin her ass.” Yujin murmurs, her voice thick with desire.

With a firm grip on Eunbi’s hips, you press against her tight entrance once more, pushing slowly until you’re fully inside. Eunbi cries out, her head tilting back as Yujin looks up, licking her lips. “That’s it, fill her up… I want to hear her moaning for you.” As the camera rolls, Yujin leans closer to Eunbi’s wet pussy, diving in hungrily, tongue exploring every part while the lens captures every second in vivid detail.

You clutch Eunbi’s hips tightly, thrusting deep into her tight ass, each stroke pulling raw, almost pleading moans from her. “This is what you want, isn’t it? To be fucked on every side like a dirty little slut,” you whisper, watching her face twist in pleasure, that wild glint in her eyes.

“Mmm, yes… yes!” Eunbi cries, barely able to form words as Yujin, still on her knees between Eunbi’s parted thighs, eats her out with hungry intent, focusing especially on her swollen, sensitive clit, licking and pulsing rapidly. “You love this, don’t you?” Yujin murmurs against her wet skin, voice tinged with mischief. “Having your man destroy your ass while I lick your wet pussy!”

“Mmm, Yeah! I love this so much, I feel so slutty.… don’t stop… fuck my ass harder, baby!” Eunbi begs, clutching her own breasts, every word punctuated by broken moans, Yujin’s fingers digging into her thighs, holding them wide open. You pick up speed, thrusting deeper, feeling her body tighten, her ass squeezing around your big cock as she surrenders completely, every inch of her body pulsing with ecstasy.

“She’s almost there, honey,” Yujin says, looking up at you with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Make her scream, baby, make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

Eunbi writhes, half-closed eyes and face fully given over to pleasure, as you pound into her tight ass harder with each thrust. Her body quivers with each plunge, tense muscles, guttural moans spilling from her lips. Yujin, eyes fixed on Eunbi’s delirious expression, slips two fingers deep into her creamy pussy, moving with steady, firm thrusts, filling the room with the obscene, wet sounds of her every movement.

“Ah… yes… yes!” Eunbi nearly screams, the sound choked by your relentless pace. Yujin leans down again, mouth capturing her sensitive clit, making a lewd sucking sound, her fingers sliding in and out of that creamy, soaking pussy, her hand slick with the hot juices flowing in response. Eunbi’s body arches, utterly surrendered to both of you, every nerve alive with intense, violent pleasure.

Then suddenly, she can’t hold back—the climax hits her like a tidal wave. Eunbi’s eyes roll back, seized by an orgasm that takes control of her, body twisting, clenching in spasms as she cries out, a release that nearly takes her breath away. Her pussy tightens hard around Yujin’s fingers, releasing waves of hot juice as her ass contracts around your cock, like she’s trying to keep you inside, each pulsing contraction showing just how intensely she feels it.

“That’s it, baby… cum for us,” you murmur, Yujin’s fingers still working quickly, every motion drawing more aftershocks until Eunbi nearly collapses, trembling uncontrollably.

You hold Eunbi close against you, feeling each spasm slowly easing, her soft tremors still rippling through her body as the final waves of her orgasm fade. Her sweaty, flushed face rests on your shoulder, eyes closed, a look of pure satisfaction on her lips as she feels you slipping out of her, inch by inch.

Yujin rises slowly, her gaze smoldering as she looks at both of you, her mouth still glistening with Eunbi's essence. She finally unhooks her bra, tossing it aside, and without a word, pulls you in for a deep kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth, unashamedly sharing the salty, tangy taste of your girlfriend’s pussy, still hot on her lips. It's a slow, wet kiss, where she delights in teasing you, her mouth moving with a firmness that leaves you tense, craving more.

Eunbi, still catching her breath, practically purrs with desire, her half-lidded eyes watching the two of you devour each other. “I want some too,” she murmurs, her voice husky, almost a moan. Yujin smiles against your lips, then pulls Eunbi close, bringing the three of you together in a kiss dripping with lust.

Your tongues meet, sliding against each other in a hot, chaotic frenzy, the taste of Eunbi mingling between you all. The three of you breathe harder, each of you more ravenous than the last, devouring one another with no reservations. Yujin whispers something between kisses, her voice a mischievous murmur. “You two drive me crazy... so delicious,” she says, her hand slipping to the nape of Eunbi’s neck, holding her firmly as she deepens the kiss, tongues tangling and teasing with each motion.

Eunbi moans softly against both your mouths, eyes closed, her fingers tracing along your thigh, slowly rising, each touch light and tempting. “You and her made me cum so good, I’ve never felt anything like that before,” she whispers, her face so close you feel the heat of her words. “But now, I want to see you cum for us…”

Yujin joins her, “Yes, baby, cover our faces with that hot cum.” The perverted tone in her voice only intensifies the heat pooling in your body.

“If that’s what you want, then both of you, get on your knees.”

Without hesitation, they sink down slowly, their eyes locked on yours, each movement a show of submission and desire. Eunbi kneels on your right, Yujin to your left, the two of them exchanging knowing looks and smiling, as if they already know what’s coming. Both of their faces glow with anticipation, mouths slightly parted, hungry gazes that don’t waver for a second.

You lean down, picking up the camera and angling it to capture every detail from above. The image on the screen shows Eunbi and Yujin looking up, lascivious smiles on their lips, eyes alight with excitement as they wait eagerly. “Look at you two,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration and provocation. “My girls, so beautiful and submissive, ready to take my load.”

Yujin starts first, gripping firmly as her tongue slides over the tip, already slick with pre-cum. “Mmm... love your taste,” she murmurs, before opening her mouth and taking in the head, sucking slowly, feeling you throb against her tongue.

Eunbi watches, biting her lip, and soon joins in, leaning in to press soft kisses along the base while her hands caress your thighs and stomach, nails skimming your skin, leaving a trail of shivers. “Give us that hot load, baby,” she whispers with a voice full of desire, before licking slowly from the base to the middle of your shaft, leaving a wet trail as her eyes meet yours.

They take turns as if rehearsed, Yujin licking the frenulum with precision that makes you moan low, the tip of her tongue making slow, firm circles. Eunbi kisses along the length, making every inch wet and slick, creating a mix of warmth and moisture that leaves you harder than ever. “It’s so big… feels so good in my mouth,” she says, her hands stroking you as she looks up, that naughty smile on her face.

Yujin pulls Eunbi closer and murmurs, “Let’s show him how well we take care of him…” Together, they begin running their tongues along the length of your cock, one on each side, meeting at the tip, exchanging a glance before diving back in, Yujin sucking the head while Eunbi gently sucks on your balls, her lips wrapping around them softly, alternating between kisses and gentle sucks.

“You’re both going to make me cum like this…” you groan, unable to hold back the rising pleasure. Yujin looks up, her lips still wrapped around you, and mutters in a husky voice, “Then cum… we want every drop…”

They both intensify, Eunbi now holding the base firmly while Yujin begins to stroke you.

You feel control slipping away and warn, “I’m close…,” your voice hoarse, each second bringing you closer to the edge. Yujin keeps sucking the tip, her lips pressing against the frenulum with calculated precision.

The pleasure builds, your whole body tense as Yujin and Eunbi wait, kneeling and ravenous, their beautiful faces filled with anticipation. Yujin’s grip tightens, her hand moving faster and firmer as she watches you, her gaze fixed on your face, studying every reaction with visible satisfaction. “That’s it, keep going... let us feel everything,” she whispers, and increases the rhythm, sliding her hand with steady, relentless strokes, pushing you over the limit.

Eunbi watches each moment, licking her lips and sharing a provocative look with Yujin. “Go ahead, baby, don’t hold back,” she murmurs, her voice soft but urgent, her fingers moving slowly over your balls, pressing lightly, matching the pace of Yujin’s strokes, both of them fully focused on taking you to the peak.

Feeling the imminent release, you give a low warning, “I’m... I’m gonna cum…” They both smile, faces eager and hungry, leaning in closer, offering their faces as canvases ready to receive every drop. The first spurt erupts powerfully, thick and hot, hitting Yujin squarely, dribbling down her cheek to her parted lips. She moans low, an expression of absolute pleasure as the cum slides down, licking the edge of her lips, savoring it slowly,”Mmm, so fucking good!” she sighs, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Cum more, baby, please!”

The second spurt lands on Eunbi, splashing across her forehead and dripping down her face. She moans loudly, closing her eyes and leaning forward for more, letting the cum glide down her skin with a satisfied smile. “God... you came so much, baby,” she murmurs, licking her upper lip, tasting your release.

You’re not done yet, the accumulated pleasure so intense that the third burst shoots out forcefully, landing right between the two of them. They look at each other, faces messy and glistening with your cum, eyes sparking with desire as each lets her tongue slide slowly, teasingly, toward the spot where the last drop fell. You hold the camera steady, capturing every detail: the hungry gaze they share, the tips of their tongues meeting right in the center of that thick, warm mixture.

Yujin is the first to lean in, her tongue moving slowly across Eunbi’s cheek, licking a trail of your cum dripping down her face, savoring every inch with deliberate care. “Mmm, so good… hot and thick, just like I imagined,” she whispers, looking at you with a wicked smile before turning back to Eunbi.

Eunbi lets out a low moan, leaning in toward Yujin, her tongue finding drops at the corner of her friend’s mouth, and then her tongue slides a little further, sucking Yujin's chin, where there is a good portion of your cum accumulated. “Your cum tastes so good, baby,” Eunbi murmurs.

With the camera close, you capture the moment they start rubbing their tongues against each other, every movement intense, almost primal. Yujin chuckles softly, her hand caressing Eunbi’s face as she pulls her closer, lifting her own face slightly to spit onto Eunbi’s tongue, who receives it without hesitation. Yujin’s own tongue slides into Eunbi’s mouth with torturous slowness, mixing more of your cum with the taste of each other, low sounds of satisfaction echoing through the room.

Their mouths meet in a final, deep, wet, filthy kiss, licking and sucking everything away. The camera captures the final image: both of them with faces painted in your cum, eyes shining, wicked and satisfied.

You bring the camera closer, capturing every detail of their faces, smeared and glistening with the remnants of your pleasure. With a satisfied smile, you murmur, “Fuck, you two look absolutely gorgeous like this, my perfect cumsluts…” They look at each other and burst into laughter, a sweet, shared laugh, with that glint of someone who’s gone all the way and loved every second of it.

Yujin, wiping a last drop off Eunbi’s brow with her thumb, looks straight into the camera and, with a playful grin, asks, “So… did you enjoy this delicious experience? Was it worth it?”

You smile, nodding as the camera remains focused on their expressions. “It was perfect. Better than I could have imagined.” Eunbi, still catching her breath with cheeks flushed, admits with a satisfied sigh, “I… had no idea it would feel this good. You two… it was indescribable.”

Yujin wraps an arm around Eunbi and says warmly, “I knew you’d love it! Thank you for trusting me and diving in. You were both incredible.”

“Now… how about a little farewell for our audience?” you suggest, your tone playful. The two exchange a glance, and without hesitation, they press their cheeks together, bringing their hands up in a cute little wave, blowing kisses toward the camera. “Thank you for watching… see you next time!” they say in unison, an adorable tone that contrasts with what just happened, laughing softly as they say goodbye with their faces close, sharing light, carefree giggles.

You capture the final frame—two beautiful women, utterly relaxed, eyes still sparkling with excitement, completely caught up in the moment. With a final sigh, you end the recording, knowing you're one lucky fucking man.

—

You step out of the shower feeling like a conqueror of the world—or at least of your own little, unexpected corner of it. The coolness of the water still seems to dance over your skin, every muscle relaxed, every thought light, as if all the effort of the day had evaporated away. You throw on a T-shirt and loose pants and head into the living room, where the stars of the day—Eunbi and Yujin—are already settled in, looking comfortable, like veterans of many such adventures (and maybe, in Yujin’s case, that’s not far from the truth).

Eunbi is curled up in a hoodie three sizes too big, looking perfectly cozy, while Yujin’s wrapped in one of Eunbi’s borrowed robes, savoring a generous spoonful of ice cream.

“So, how are you two feeling?” you ask, the excitement in your voice almost dancing by itself.

The two exchange a knowing smile. “Relaxed,” Eunbi answers with a soft smile, her eyes still sparkling.

“Alive,” Yujin adds, pausing only to take another spoonful of ice cream. Then she turns to Eunbi with a casual look and a curious smile. “And the jealousy, honey? How’d you hold up?”

Eunbi blushes, but she doesn’t look away, accepting the question as a challenge. “You know… at first, yeah. It was hard seeing him… connecting with someone else. But as I watched how much he was enjoying it… I don’t know, I think I started enjoying it, too.”

Yujin laughs softly, clearly pleased. “Now that’s the spirit. And can I just say? For your first time with a girl, you were amazing.” She regards Eunbi with playful admiration. “And I’m not just talking about technique, you know? It was more… your enthusiasm.”

Eunbi blushes even more but doesn’t lose her smile. “Well… you made it easy.”

Yujin turns to you with that look of someone sharing the world’s most obvious secret, adding, “And you… I have to say, those guys who seem quiet and reserved… they always end up being the best. Must be something to do with… attention to detail.”

You chuckle awkwardly, trying to hide the satisfaction that still shows. “Look, I never… really imagined I’d be… with two incredible women like this.” You try, but words don’t seem to be enough.

“Oh, and getting paid for it, no less! How do you manage it?”

“The money and the adventures are great,” you begin, feeling a sudden inspiration, “but seeing my girl happy is what really matters to me. I’m just in this for her, and for as far as she wants to go.”

Yujin gives a playful look between you and Eunbi. “See? You two have something special. Most couples wouldn’t even consider this, but you? You’re here, having fun, creating intimate and unique memories, just embracing it all. No bullshit.”

Eunbi, still smiling with a mix of pride and tenderness, sighs. “Yeah… but honestly? I think what makes it work is that we… talk. Like, really talk.”

“Yes,” Yujin adds, “that’s rarer than it sounds. And don’t get me wrong, sometimes just the… physical part is great, you know? But having someone who understands and supports you? That’s the hard part to find.” She gives a soft, almost sentimental smile before diving back into her ice cream as if it were the last of its kind.

“So, is it time for your podcast with Sana now?” Eunbi asks.

Yujin nods eagerly. “Yep, straight from a hot session with you two to the spotlight.”

You laugh lightly. “Can’t believe we have a celebrity in our apartment. How do you handle all these commitments?”

She leans in with an exaggerated expression of importance, pretending to adjust an invisible crown. “Oh, darlings, you’re in the presence of a businesswoman. Important, in-demand, and… completely devoted to this fantastic ice cream!”

Eunbi smiles, her eyes shining with admiration. “I’m going to watch the episode! Bet you’ll steal the show!”

“You… err… You two are just so sweet, you know?” Yujin murmurs, but her voice breaks, a sudden, unexpected emotion making her words stumble. Tears start forming silently in her eyes as she tries, comically, to keep devouring the ice cream as if nothing’s happening. She laughs, a clumsy sob escaping as tears fall without ceremony. “Sorry, it’s just… you know, it’s so good. This ice cream… is emotionally very intense, I guess. It just caught me off guard.”

Eunbi, a bit alarmed, asks softly, “Yujin, are you okay?”

“Of course!” Yujin laughs again, still mixing her shaky voice with humor to brush it off. “It’s just… it’s like everything hit me all at once, you know? Just… tired. But nothing serious.” She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, smiling. “It’s not depression or anything, okay? Just a bit of burnout. Something light. Normal.”

You watch the tension unwind from her face, layer by layer, and feel something more than curiosity—real concern, that uncomfortable feeling of seeing someone who seemed unbreakable finally give way. You sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her with almost reverent care.

“Yujin,” you say, your voice low and steady. “If you need anything, anything at all…”

Yujin looks up, a little surprised, then smiles. It’s almost a painful smile, one that won’t quite admit that maybe, just maybe, she really does need that offer of help. She shakes her head. “No, really, you two are sweethearts. It’s just… you know, sometimes it’s all a bit too much. And then I forget. Forget to breathe. Forget to… I don’t know… take care of myself a little.”

Eunbi watches her closely, as if trying to decipher every word, every nuance. “It’s okay, you know? If you want to cancel the podcast… Sana will understand. It’s just one episode.”

Yujin takes a deep breath and shakes her head, this time with a determined look. “Oh, no… Sana is… Sana is one of the good ones. I want to go. It’ll be fun, I just need a little… I don’t know, pep talk, maybe?” She gives a short laugh, but sadness lingers there, lurking, and her hand still trembles slightly as she sets her ice cream bowl on the coffee table.

Eunbi, however, doesn’t give up. She holds Yujin’s hand between hers, firm and warm, grounding her, and says with a soft but resolute voice, “Yujin, no matter what happens… we’re here. For anything you need, really.”

For the first time, Yujin looks at you both without any of her usual masks, and you see a glimmer of something vulnerable, almost fragile. She opens her mouth, and for a moment, you think she might say something heavy, something real. But instead, she lets out a dry, melancholy laugh.

“Look at me,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Here I am, getting all emotional, babbling a bunch of nonsense. God, I can be so ridiculous sometimes! But now that's enough, no more crying here! And I'm sorry about this, guys."

She gives you and Eunbi a look full of tenderness, as if she wants to capture this moment, this presence, this support that maybe, she hadn’t expected. She jokes, her voice still a bit shaky: “You know what? What if the three of us just formed a throuple, huh? A modern fairytale, all ours.”

You all laugh, the tension finally melting away. She wipes the tears from her eyes, standing up with a renewed energy. “Just kidding, of course. You two are wonderful together. If I joined this story, I’d probably just ruin the magic.” She shrugs, adjusting her borrowed robe. “Besides, I like having the bed all to myself. You know, no fighting over the blanket.”

—

Later, in the dark bedroom, you're completely out, already dreaming about absurdly nonsensical things. But Eunbi is nowhere near sleep. She’s lying there, shifting restlessly, as if waiting for you to wake up and ask what's wrong; finally, she loses patience and nudges your shoulder. Once, twice, three times, until you make some indistinct noise halfway between a snore and a "huh?"

“Are you awake, babe?” she asks, like the repeated pokes hadn’t already given her the answer.

“Now I am,” you mumble, still keeping your eyes closed. “Not like I wanted to sleep or anything.”

“Stop being silly,” she says, but her voice is soft, almost hesitant. There’s something in it that makes you crack one eye open. “I’m worried about Yujin.”

You turn to look at her, blinking in the dark to focus. “Hmm, Yujin? The same Yujin who posted stories just a few hours ago, smiling on the plane? The same Yujin who left our apartment on the phone about a sponsorship offer from a... vibrator brand?”

Eunbi sighs. “Yes, I know. But still… that doesn’t mean she’s actually okay.”

You let out a tired sigh, remembering how Yujin was—laughing, having fun, brimming with an energy that seemed unbreakable. Until, of course, she randomly started crying. “Yeah, that was… weird. But you’ve done that too, you know? I’ve seen you start crying out of nowhere sometimes.”

“That’s when I’m on my period, you dummy,” she mutters, resting a light but ‘threatening’ hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle smack. “Totally different.”

You laugh, pulling her a little closer. “Alright, alright. But seriously, babe, Yujin’s an adult, you know? I’m sure this isn’t the first time she’s had a moment like that.”

“I know, but… should I have insisted that she rest?”

“You did more than enough,” you say softly. “She knows we were there for her. And I’m sure she’s grateful for that, you know? Just because she projects that ‘I’m indestructible’ vibe doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate the support. If she needs anything, she’ll text you or some other friend. She’s fine, don’t worry.”

Eunbi sighs again, but there’s a bit more ease in it this time. “Maybe you’re right…”

“Of course I am,” you say, pulling her in even closer. “And besides, we’re gonna see her again, remember? We’re gonna film more stuff together. We’ll get used to her freaking out, laughing, crying… it’s all part of the package.”

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, feigning a jealous look. “Oh, yeah? Who says we’re filming with her again? Did you like her that much?”

You chuckle, catching her playful tone. “Obviously. All for your success, babe. It’s just strategic thinking, you know?”

She laughs, giving your chest a light smack. “Alright, strategist. I'm just kidding. It was really fun, the whole… experience.”

“Good. Now, go to sleep,” you say, exhausted.

“Yes, Daddy,” she replies, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh, I like that,” you joke.

She rolls her eyes in the dark and replies, “Don’t even start.”

[wemlygust]

In my experience the best fiction does not follow up the first situation with an emotionally similar situation, even if it's escalated. At least not too many times in a row/for too long relative to the length of the story. That can end up feeling like the same situation stretched out way too far. You can only get away with that for so long before the reader just acclimates and gets used to it and none of the excitement feels as exciting anymore. Instead, my favorites alternate moods between scenes. Just had a super stressful chase scene? > Now we have a relaxing and/or funny scene to take some of that tension off. Just had a really emotionally fraught conversation scene? > Now for the shocking action scene, or the methodical investigative scene, perhaps. Just had a slow, leisurely, peaceful scene, where everything is great and the characters are happy? > Here comes the Cascade of Problems! Just had a cascade of problems? > Here is the safety, everything is good now! Oh wait, > here is the oh god my friend died during the cascade of problems scene, everyone is mourning now, tearjerking scene. Now that you've made everyone cry, it's time for > a really funny scene that makes the characters laugh even though it still hurts, or another action scene, or a thoughtful conversation scene, or maybe a romance scene. Next, maybe a good scare, then an action scene, maybe a couple more humorous moments mixed in, maybe some philosophical moments, whatever. Add another romance scene. Then bring the dead friend back to life (yay!) or don't and instead resolve that thread otherwise by having the characters come to terms in some sense with their death. But wait, betrayal from stage left! And so on. What emotion you switch to doesn't matter too much, as long as you move on to something, though not without abandoning the context of the previous scenes or the character development throughlines and suchlike. It doesn't have to be literally every other scene that the mood changes, and you don't have to include every possible mood, you can just pick a handful that contrast well; the point is just that the mood has to change and shouldn't just be the same the entire time, to keep things engaging instead of boring and one-note, imo. This is more true the longer the work is. A really short story can get away with being just 1 thing, but the longer a story gets, the more a one-note angst-fest or series of fight scenes or whatever gets exhausting instead of fun. This is why there are typewriter-rooms in Resident Evil games. The peaceful moments enable the horror in the other parts of the game, and there are similar peaceful spots in other horror media - even though and because horror is all about scaring and/or horrifying people. Like, the alien isn't right there chasing Ripley for the entirety of the movie Alien - the most intense scenes are spread out and interspersed with mystery and interpersonal drama and suchlike. Without the typewriter rooms, or an equivalent moment to breathe in other horror media, people either get overwhelmed and stop, or they acclimate and stop being scared. The peace and safety is needed in order to bring down the terror. Tl;dr: vary the type of situation. And sometimes the situation can be nice. Just keep changing it up. With faster or slower switches depending on how you want to do your pacing, and how long the story is overall. Also I actually think it's also fine to totally discard this type of writing advice and just, like, write slice-of-life feel-good fiction sometimes. Our culture shapes the kinds of stories we usually tell, and genre shapes that further, and it shapes writing advice like mine and that of the people above me in this reblog chain, because of what we have experience reading and what advice we have heard ourselves and so on, and it's okay to just throw all that out and do something else, too. Including whatever thing you've been told specifically not to do. Do that, if you want.

The point of fiction is actually to put that guy in a situation™️, and he might try to tell you the point is to then get him out of the situation, WRONG, second situation

[inchidentally]

just me flipping out over landoscar over the past 48hrs :)

ohhh GOODDDDD the way the commentary here is already perfect but just to add!! both shuffle about and seem to do a little of their creepy unspoken communication and then both immediately slip their arms around each other at the same time before they both look over to Max at the same time. bc the slightly scary bonded little McLaren creatures need to remember the rest of the grid exists sometimes ;__;

a-amvryllis

also the fact that Oscar's growth spurt over the winter really is visible when they're stood this close

and yet he's still the same awkward recent-growth-spurts young lad that got delivered to Lando's driver's room last season. he doesn't know what to do in front of cameras and his instinct is still to have Lando dancing and sparkling like the natural star he is so that Oscar can stand just a bit behind and fulfill his own publicity quota by reacting to whatever Lando is getting up to

mecachrome

THE CHEST TAP ohhhh the way that Oscar requires very little physical touch and Lando craves it and they've just… figured it out !! Lando squeezes Oscar's shoulder, taps his arm, initiates a handshake, shuffles back a little bc Oscar's always standing just behind him, snuggles closer to him when they're in cars for the drivers parade and it's remotely cold… and taps Oscar's chest as a 'thank you'

bc for Oscar, he gets his emotional fill through his eyes. while he's perfectly content with most people to do glances and hold eye contact when someone's speaking directly to him. but his eyes l i n g e r where he's especially fond or affectionate or in love. he watches Lily when she's looking at other people, he watched Logan for when he seemed lonely or when they were talking and Logan would stare out at the crowd, and g o ddddddd does he love to watch Lando. you can track his eyes as they trace Lando's features and the way his smile responds to watching Lando's mouth.

yet there's also the way they've learned each other's ways of expressing care/affection/checking in bc Lando can trust that Oscar will be looking to him when something is awkward or unsure, and Oscar can trust that Lando will come to him and let him know how he's feeling aaaaaaand I just think that's !!!

bc no bromance, no cultivating a dynamic or relationship by blending their social lives, no performing in any way. all of their little hallmarks are the most unplanned, unintentional sweet things like the nicknames Lando accidentally started and only continued bc it makes Oscar so happy, to Oscar's hearteyes that he absolutely surely must know fandom teases him about but doesn't bother to change. them being opposites in certain things and then eerily similar in others.

all of it comes back to the way they communicate in ways everyone else has to interpret to understand - and even then it's not like we ever get to see the stuff they think and talk about behind their little privacy door and in the downtime we know they have but that isn't documented. like, I don't want to stretch too far by implying something too intense or specific but there's definitely a Their Own World kind of thing happening. whether or not it's smth they've specifically knowingly cultivated or if it's just naturally how their dynamic shakes out.

bc we all love to joke that Oscar's jealous of Carlos or Daniel or Franco - but then he brings them up on his own in friendly ways and is a very definite carlando! and ppl wanted to make a lot out of Lando openly complaining to an audience that Oscar doesn't like enough of the same thing as him so they don't hang out as much as he does other drivers he knows. but then after that they immediately start playing padel and oh it's okay now! it literally was as simple as Lando not knowing Oscar was up for padel even if golf and regular partying won't be! and that shared activities are not a defining quality of a relationship and Lando said "spends the least time with off track" about Oscar and not "likes the least" or "has the least interest in" lasfgslajgfsalf

and like, I'm always saying how of course they'll have the usual teammate fights or spats or tensions at some point! it happens! Lando is deeply ingratiated into Max V's life socially - moreso than anyone else on the grid with Lando - but they're ever so slightly on ice at the moment bc they're too similar when it comes to competitiveness. but they'll be back to normal when the season - or the WDC race - is done and finished. and nobody likes to document it for good reason but Carlos and Lando have had plenty of challenging moments and many a 'see?? we're fine!!' golf excursions or fan service videos to smooth an issue over (including the worst gifs of all time that I can't find anymore where Lando straight up looked murderous). and then ofc the "I don't feel sorry for him" Lando/Daniel DTS stuff that caused such a fandom headache. and Oscar's always had a very simple, on track the job is to win unless instructed otherwise and then off the track we interact as people not drivers. so it's fully normal to expect situations where they're not happy w each other and it shows! but it hasn't yet and that's honestly kind of weird!! esp when they don't have the big broey type of friendship that Lando's had with his other two teammates - you'd honestly expect him to feel more at ease in showing it when he's pissed off with Oscar bc there's nothing to keep up for fandom/PR sake and no messiness with shared friend groups etc to worry about. but he's cultivated an exceptionally and very pointed approach of This Is My Team and My Job/I'm Established, He Is Not Yet/I'm The Experienced One where he sees the team unity as especially important for him to publicly present and assert. like, for all he hated the idea of being the older one and no longer baby brother, he's responded to Low Maintenance Watchful Oscar in the long run as someone's he needs to take care of and whose place in the team is partly his own responsibility. he's not just one of the drivers, he's The Guy at McLaren and Oscar's extremely painful induction into the team and F1 with basically the whole world praying for his downfall was so vastly opposite to his own gradual and loving introduction that it's clear he's taking their disparities into account. a LOT. this moment being a prime example of him correcting fans because of that. and probably also an uncomfortable awareness of the segment of his own fandom who are able to inflict a special kind of hell on anyone they view as not 100% serving Lando, the object of their unhinged obsession and bias.

like, it's a side note I'll prob never be able to go too deeply into for just that reason^^ but this viewing Lando as a permanent victim whose every good deed is seen as Not Necessary and ignoring the huge differences in position within this sport and within McLaren between him and Oscar - and simply slotting Oscar into a space Carlos and Daniel held - totally undermines Lando's real life growth as a man who does understand that disparity and does appreciate that Oscar inhabits a space totally his own and nothing to do with his older, experienced teammates - and also a man who is saying and doing these things about teamwork and appreciation for Oscar in a way that responds to those differences while not remotely expecting Oscar to mimic or parrot it back because they're not equals in the sport or with the team (which makes logical sense !!) and they're not what Lando was with Carlos or Daniel. and in all the insanity I feel like this coddling, constantly pitying and victimized approach that still hearkens back to Lando being The Baby on the team - completely fails to show him appreciation for who he actually has become and what he actually does and says that is so specifically commendable and shows such growth and strength that is so admirable. the constant expectation that he's saying and doing these things in any way that expects Oscar to copy or mirror him - when their positions could not be more different or imbalanced !!!! - and ignoring the way Lando actually doesn't expect that and that he receives gratitude and appreciation from Oscar in a way that is unique to Oscar bc everyone is different !! by viewing Lando as always perfection and never in the wrong and any good deed being automatically greater than anyone else's good deed, he is cut off from authentic appreciation and praise of the individual real life complex person he actually is and that such flat, default levels of adoration will ring meaningless to him compared to people who can objectively give him praise him as objectively as they see his flaws !! and that's why Max F is his lifelong best friend above all others ! anyway !!!!!

and like. idk. part of me feels a suspicion that this private little world Lando and Oscar have - that they cultivated around the time they decided to pull a lot of their relationship off of social media and not use it for PR (apart from the bog standard team media) - is also them wisely deciding to keep their negotiation of this new front runner craziness entirely to themselves. bc of course things aren't all sunshine and roses between them all the time, but what's clear is how mutually and maturely they've approached each new bout of drama. especially considering they're so young and everyone expected that to be the downfall to Zak's plot to have two young generational talents. and EVERY time it would make perfect sense for them to snipe at each other through the press or be caught feeling cold toward each other - or someone strategically edits or crops media to make it look so - they're huddled together somewhere giggling or playing board games or sharing junk food ;__; the brain rot of stan culture threatens to destroy fandom experience for everyone else but meanwhile the objects of their obsession are sharing a conspiratorial look and grinning at each other.

like… Netflix AND an F1 reporter have quite literally goaded and begged for them to fight and hate each other and each time Oscar boldly steps forward with that cool expression and undermines the effort, with Lando literally cheering him on <3 <3

[koiiiji]

too late

author’s note ; apology for this post (this one gonna be even more angst😈😈)

the bar filled with quiet jazz, the subdued warm light cast long shadows on the red and black walls. you’d almost forgotten why you agreed to be here — until Goo had spun some wild story about needing your help. “it’ll be a small favor,” he’d said, grinning in that easy way that made you drop your guard. “just a few minutes, promise.”

but as you glanced around, you caught sight of someone you hadn’t expected to see. Gitae Kim.

he stood by the bar, lounging as if he owned the place, a drink in one hand and his expression oozing that signature careless confidence. the years hadn’t changed him much, you thought, feeling your chest tighten. he looked a little older, sharper around the edges, but still had that smug, arrogant gleam in his eye.

before you could slip away into the darkness of the bar, Goo spotted you, waving you over with an excited grin. you froze, feeling the air around you thicken as Gitae turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recognized you.

“what a surprise!” Goo drawled, giving you both an obnoxious wink. “didn’t know you two knew each other.” after a tense, long and silent pause, Goo quickly melted away, coming up with an excuse that he needs to meet someone else leaving you standing alone with the one person you’d hoped to avoid forever.

Gitae’s lips curled into a smirk. “long time no see, huh?” his tone was smooth, playful, but there was something in his gaze, something that stirred up memories you’d buried deep.

you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “yeah. it’s been a while.”

he tilted his head, eyes roving over you in a way that felt too familiar, too intense. “you look good,” he said, leaning in slightly, the smug amusement in his voice unmissable. “almost like you missed me.”

this bastard. “you’re delusional,” you shot back, hating how shaky your voice sounded, hating even more that he seemed to enjoy it.

“come on.” he shrugged, that lazy smile playing on his lips. “admit it. i bet you missed me, just a little.” his hand brushed against your arm, lingering for just a second too long, as if he wanted to keep you there, right within reach.

you recoiled slightly, a flood of memories hitting you hard — the fights, the bitterness, and the last night you’d seen him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the door crashed open, Gitae storming in well past midnight, his eyes flicking over you with irritation as you stood waiting in the dim light. you’d stayed up, hoping, just hoping he’d actually be home for once, hoping you could talk, but one look at his face told you it wouldn’t be easy.

“you’re still awake?” he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he tossed his jacket on the couch. did he have this leather jacket before? it reeked of blood.

“of course i’m awake,” you snapped, anger and heartbreak mixing in your voice. “you haven’t been home before three a.m. in weeks, Gitae. you’re shutting me out like i don’t even matter to you anymore.”

he laughed, low and humorless, rolling his eyes. “oh, so this is what you were waiting up for? to nag me about my schedule again?” he sneered, voice dripping with contempt. “don’t you have anything better to do?”

“better than worrying about us?” you threw back, your voice rising with frustration. “you used to care about this, about us, but now you’re never here, never talk to me. it’s like… it’s like you’d rather i just disappear.”

“don't speak nonsense” he chuckled, but his gaze cold and unfeeling. “if i wanted to, i wouldn't be here anymore”

after a small pause he add “why do you even make this a big deal? i don’t need you waiting up, checking in on me like i’m a child. i have my own life outside of you, you know.”

“your own life? Gitae, you used to want to be here!” you shot back, your voice rising in frustration. “you used to be a part of this home, part of us. and now… it’s like you’d rather be anywhere else. you’ve shut me out.”

“god, you’re being so dramatic,” he snapped, his voice cutting. “it’s exhausting. every damn day, as if i owe you every second of my time.”

his words hit you like a slap, and something in you broke. “you know what? you’re not even a fraction of the man i thought you were. you’re turning into everything you hate — you’re becoming exactly like your father, and you don’t even see it!”

you knew what you just said. and you knew there would be consequences of this words. Gitae’s expression darkened, and in an instant, he crossed the room, fury in his eyes as he grabbed you, his hand tightening around your throat. “don’t you ever compare me to him,” he hissed, his voice cold, each word dripping with rage.

“then stop acting like him!” you shot back, even as your voice trembled.

for a moment, he just stared at you, fury and something else flickering in his eyes. then he just turning toward the door without a second glance.

you felt a surge of pain, an ache spreading through your throat, but you refused to let him leave, refused to let this end without answers. you staggered to your feet, getting in his way, your voice rising in desperation. “don’t you dare to walk out on me, Gitae! we have to finish this!”

he glared at you, his patience worn thin. “i’m done talking,” he said coldly, his tone laced with finality. when you didn’t move, he scowled and pushed you back, harder than he meant to.

the force sent you stumbling aside, the shock of it sharp as you bumped into nearby chest of drawer and fell to the floor. a blinding pain flaring in your abdomen. a strangled cry escaped you, and you clutched your stomach. tears streamed down your face, but gitae was already gone, the door slamming behind him, leaving you alone in the silence, the empty ache of loss flooding over you.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you snapped back to the present, feeling his eyes on you, a strange glint in his gaze. he leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “you still look at me the same way. bet i’m still the one who gets under your skin, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said, but it came out weak, unconvincing. his proximity, the warmth of his presence — it was too much, bringing back emotions you’d tried so hard to bury.

“ah, don’t be like that,” he murmured, voice softening as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the memory that lingered between you. “you know i can’t stay away from you.”

you tensed, feeling the weight of his gaze, of everything unsaid between you. did he really think he could just flirt his way back in, like none of it mattered?

he leaned back, folding his arms, eyes roving over you with a slight smirk. “so… what happened to you after i left? did you finally find some boring guy to settle down with?”

the question hung in the air, and suddenly, the ache in your chest returned, sharper this time. your hand drifted to your stomach instinctively, as if trying to soothe a loss he’d never know.

Gitae’s eyes followed the motion, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion. he tilted his head, “wait… don’t tell me you actually…” his voice trailed off, something cold settling in his eyes. “…a kid?”

you shook your head slowly, feeling the weight of everything you hadn’t said pressing down on you. “no,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “it didn’t… last.”

realization dawned on him, his expression faltering as Gitae pieced it together. he turned pale, something almost like regret was on his face. his eyes flicked back to your hand, lingering there as if he could see the invisible scar you carried.

“you…” his voice was barely a whisper, a strange mix of disbelief and something else, something that almost looked like guilt. he swallowed hard, shifting his weight as if the air around him had grown too heavy. “i didn’t know.”

the words hung between you, empty and hollow. of course he hadn’t known. back then he’d walked out without a second thought, leaving you to face it alone, to deal with the loss and the pain in silence.

for once, he was silent, his usual arrogance muted as he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. you could see the faint crack in his facade, the way his jaw tightened, the brief flicker of something like shame in his gaze.

but then, almost as quickly as it had come, Gitae forced a crooked grin, slipping back into that casual arrogance like it was a second skin. “well,” he muttered, grabbing his glass again, “guess we all have our regrets, huh?”

it was a pathetic attempt to cover his own discomfort, and you felt a wave of anger rise in your chest, fierce and unrelenting. he’d always been like this, brushing off everything that didn’t fit his image of himself, refusing to acknowledge the damage he left in his wake.

“yeah,” you replied, voice icy, “but not everyone gets to walk away from them.”

for a moment, his mask faltered, his gaze darkening as he opened his mouth to respond. but no words came. maybe, for once, he was realizing the weight of what he’d done.

“you think you can just act like nothing happened, that it was all just a rough patch?” you said, your voice shaking. “i had to deal with everything alone because of you.”

his mouth opened, but this time, no smug comeback, no deflection. he looked away, the faintest hint of regret in his eyes, like he was grappling with a truth he didn’t want to accept.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured finally, voice barely audible, as if the words were foreign to him. but you could see in his gaze that it wasn’t enough, that he still didn’t understand, not fully.

you shook your head, taking a step back. “it's too late, Gitae. too late for apologies.”

he reached out as if to stop you, his eyes searching yours, maybe looking for something he couldn’t name. but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of another word. turning, you walked away, leaving him alone with the weight of a regret he would never fully admit.

MASTERLIST

[sparrowlucero]

Hello sorry I am being shy and anon but do you have any advice for someone who wants to get into Doctor Who again after briefly dabbling (and enjoying it very much) in like the early, early 2010s? I know this is mostly your art blog but you were the only person I could think of to ask you're like the Doctor Who authority of blogs I follow

Oh yeah of course! People can be really confusing about this so I'll try not to be.

So first, the majority of doctor who episodes are self contained stories that you could just watch and understand perfectly without any further context. even when there is some overarching context it's usually written in a way that's either pretty easy to glean and/or just doesn't impact your understanding of the story. 99% of the episodes don't even care if you know the premise and are just like "what if some people were on a spaceship and the devil was there? wouldn't that be fucked up or what??". Don't feel like you have to binge a 60 years long show to watch it. Some standalone episodes I think are fun if you (or anyone else) just want to check out one or two:

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances (A supposed-to-be-dead boy in a gas mask haunts a young woman in world war 2)

Blink (A woman gets wrapped up in a mystery involving statues that make people disappear. This one is especially good if you flat out know nothing about the show. Has some really great time travel stuff.)

A Christmas Carol (A christmas carol pastiche (of course) where the doctor tries to rewrite the past of a cruel man who's going to let a lot of people die. very sad and sweet. I love the "wintery planet with sky fish" setting of this one)

Vincent and the Doctor (The famous Vincent Van Gogh Episode™)

The Rings of Akhatan (A pretty lowkey little adventure story about an alien festival. has supreme autumn vibes)

Flatline (A species from a 2 dimensional world tries to break into our 3 dimensional one. really fun special effects)

Midnight (A tour bus breaks down on a diamond planet where nothing can survive. Something knocks at the door.)

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (The Doctor and friend go to a library that covers an entire planet and finds that everyone has disappeared. Has a lot of really great, interesting concepts baked into it that I won't spoil)

It Takes You Away (A girl is left alone in a cabin in the woods when her dad disappears through the mirror. Has a famously goofy ending that I really love)

73 Yards (A character is steps on a fairy circle and is followed by an old woman who always stands exactly 73 yards away)

The Devil's Chord (This doesn't really have, you know, a plot, but it does have jinkx monsoon as an evil music god)

Boom (The doctor steps on a landmine on an alien planet and cannot move)

Wild Blue Yonder (A two hander where the Doctor and co are trapped on a dilapidated spaceship at the edge of the universe. really atmospheric with some fun/strange visuals.)

That being said, it does add a lot to watch it in order; there's a lot of plot twists, character dynamics, and general payoff you get if you marathon it. I would personally recommend starting with either the first episode of the 2005 show ("Rose") or the first episode of the 2010 season ("The Eleventh Hour") and just watching in order from there. I think you could also start with "The Snowmen", "The Pilot", or "The Woman Who Fell To Earth" if you wanted, but the first two (especially rose) are the better jumping on points.

some other little notes of advice I don't often see people mention:

it's stupid sometimes just roll with it

once in a while the show sort of "reboots" with different writers, actors, directors, and a new tone. it's much more like watching several small shows than one long show, so don't be too put off by the length!

IMPORTANT: pretty much all streaming services will separate holiday/anniversary specials from the show proper and you have to deliberately search them up on the same service to find them. It's really necessary to be aware of this because many of these specials are the first or last episodes for characters/whole eras of the show and are genuinely unskippable. I strongly recommend looking up a list of the episodes and checking it after finales just to make sure you don't skip anything on accident.

there's two spin offs (Torchwood, a more adult (read: gay sex) show about a mysterious agency that solves sci fi crimes, and the Sarah Jane Adventures, a pretty good monster of the week kids show) that ran concurrently with season 1-4. You don't have to watch them to understand anything happening in doctor who, but sometimes they cross over with the show in fun ways, Ex. the first season finale of Torchwood continues directly into season 3 of Doctor Who. My friend and I got a kick out of watching them at the same time so maybe you will too. (either way I recommend watching "Children of Earth", the torchwood miniseries, if you want to see a weird dark sci fi show about the government making contact with aliens. It's a bit like arrival (2016) if it was way nastier.)

alternatively, you can inject fast acting brain poison into yourself with this

anyways I hope this all reads as, you know, more approachable than the way dudes on quora recommend this show:

[aspoonofsugar]

Some Millie and IMP Thoughts

I love Helluva Boss's new episode for all the reasons everyone else does! In particular, my favorite part is Millie getting fleshed out more.

I have always liked Millie and I disagree with people saying she is badly written. That said, the focus she got this episode adds a ton of depth to both her, her role in the series and the dynamics within IMP.

BLITZ AND IMP

Blitz is the titular character and protagonist of the series. He is the boss in Helluva Boss. As a result, everyone else is in the story for his sake. In particular, IMP is Blitz's found family:

Blitzo: Look, the point is, Loona is a valued member of our family, and we don't get rid of family. Moxxie: We aren't a family, sir! You are the boss! We are the employees!

Through them (and Stolas) Blitz gets to explore his ghosts and to heal. How is that so?

Loona and Moxxie seem to me two sides of the same coin:

-Loona is like Blitz, as she is told by the world she has no real value:

Adoption Center Lady: Oh, her? That's just Loona. What a nightmare. Serious attitude problems. She'll be out of our hair next month when she ages out. Good riddance, if you ask me. She'll never amount to anything much.

So, Blitz latches on her and adopts her. He showers her with the love he never got from his father.

-Moxxie is like Blitz, as he is abused by his father and loses his mother. As a result, he grows up unsure of himself and in need of love and approval:

Blitzo: Well, I'm glad everything ended up okay. Good to know we both have daddy issues, Mox.

However, Blitz often treats him poorly, downplays his abilities and mocks him.

So, Loona and Moxxie are Blitz's mirrors, as he projects on them in opposite ways. He treats Loona like he wishes his father treated him. He treats Moxxie similarly to how his father treated him. Obviously, Blitz isn't an abuser like Buckzo. He loves Moxxie and more importantly he is not his father. However, he and Moxxie do have a mentor-mentee dynamic and it is clear as day Moxxie wants Blitz's approval:

Blitzo: Gonna be honest, Moxxie- Not too bad for your first solo mission. Moxxie: Reeeeeally, siiiir? Blitzo: Nooo, no, not really. You're a fucking disgrace.

Still, Blitz is often unable to give it to him, despite the fact he clearly cares. This is also why Loona and Moxxie get often on each other's nerves:

Loona: How am I supposed to smell anything in this city? Moxxie: Can't you even do one thing right? Loona: Can't you finally do something about how fat you are?

Moxxie is the most critical of Blitz's favoritism towards Loona and is the one insisting Blitz calls her out on her poor attitude towards clients. This is not by chance. They are just like bickering siblings :''')

In a sense, this episode even subtly confirms this foiling:

Blitz: Loonie's perfect, and Moxxie's… probably got some good traits too and I'm sure we'll figure them out eventually.

Loona is perfect and Moxxie has no good traits. What about seeing the world in black and white?

So, where does Millie fit in all of this?

Blitzo: So I'm your best friend, huh? Millie: What do you think? Blitzo: I think…I- I've never had a real friend that I didn't wanna fuck.

She is the only one Blitz does not project over, so they grow into genuine friends. They are equals, value each other and love each other. So, Millie freely states what Loona and Moxxie also think, but can't properly convey:

Millie: He (Blitz) gave me so much…A career, a husband, a future. And now…He's my best friend. Blitzo: You… you don't hate me? Millie: Naw, never.

Blitz gave her, Moxxie and Loona a better future. He is their precious boss and a treasured family member.

MILLIE'S THEME

Helluva Boss has two main themes:

Relationships

Classism

Moxxie is linked to Blitz's unhealthy way to build relationships. Their bond is a complicated mix of friendship, family love, professional interest and a little bit of possessiveness on Blitz's part. That's why it is so complicated and contradictive. Millie ties into this as Moxxie's wife, since M&M's relationship is Blitz's ideal one.

Still, this episode makes clear Millie's true thematic relevance is for the topic of classism:

Millie: We… heh. We don't deserve this. We're just Wrathians, Blitzo. Muscle. It's all we're good for, all I'm good for. It's why you hired me. Any demon good at making a buck is welcome in Lust or Greed, but here? Demons like us ain't cut out for this.

Classism permeates Hell, which is built on a strong hierarchy. All characters have suffered the consequences of this, while being influenced by it at the same time. For example:

Blitz is an imp, who has been looked down and victimized by society. However, he also embraces classist prejudices and uses them as an excuse to push Stolas away.

Stolas is a Goetia, who has been a prisoner of his family's expectations and of his role in society. However, he is also unconsciously discriminating towards imps. He has no ill will towards them, but he calls them silly names and belittles them

Millie is the same. She is a wrathian imp of humble origins. In a sense, she is a stereotypical imp. She is incredibly strong, was born and lived the majority of her life in Wrath, aka imps' original ring. She fits the expectations of both her family and society. However, she deep down wishes for more, which is why she leaves the family ranch to become an assassin. This choice is already seen as subversive by her family, who expected her to stay home, so she could help with the family business. However, Millie herself has no high expectations for her future:

Millie: Bullshit! Who sent you? Millie: Who are you working for?! Blitzo: What? You don't believe me? Millie: Imps don't work for themselves, asshole.

She still sees herself stuck in Wrath. She will be one of many underpaid goons, who work for higher ranking demons. A life a little bit more adventurous than the one at the farm. Still, nothing extraordinary. Then, she meets Blitz:

Millie: Who's that? Your boss? Hah! Blitzo: HA he fucking wishes. No, I work for myself, lady.

Blitz is the first one, who recognizes her potential and who believes she can become more than what she is. He gives her the chance to explore the world outside the Wrath Ring and brings her up to Pride. When Millie doubts herself and her role in society, he is the one to reassure her:

Blitzo: Millie, I have spent too much of my time, energy, and holes into setting this up for us to entertain your bullshit. I brought you into this company for a reason, okay? You're tougher, smarter, and frankly more capable than anyone I've ever met in any ring.

Blitz gives Millie a new life, where she is free to be herself and to choose a husband she would have never chosen, if she had stayed home with her family.

Thanks to Blitz and her work at IMP she is by this point a different person than the one she was. She does not completely fit in Wrath anymore:

Sallie May: Heh, yeah, I mean, with so many exciting things here, it's no wonder you never make your way back home. SHIT! That slipped out. Millie: ..What? Sallie May: You know… the Wrath Ring, all that dirt and rust and boring nothingness. Not much of a thriving club scene down there, why visit that, right?

Which is why she is now slowly overcoming her prejudices:

Millie: Oh yeah! Y'all haven't met my boss Blitzo! And his hellhound! Loona: I'm not just his hellhound.

It is not by chance Millie is the one calling Loona Blitz's Hellbound, as if she were a pet. Moreover, it is not by chance she does so, while talking with her family. It is probably normal for wrathian imps to see hellbounds as property. So, when she visits home, she goes back to a familiar language and mindset, without even realizing how offensive it is. That is why it is relevant this episode has Millie share a bonding moment with Loona, where she calls her by name:

Millie: Thanks. Loona.

She is not only overcoming her self-insecurities, but she is also starting to see other demons differently. She is growing not only more happy, but also more open minded. All thanks to Blitz's impact on her life:

Millie: Most of my life I bought into the idea that all I could ever be was a simple farm girl. Or best an underpaid goon. Until I met some knucklehead who never gave a fuck about what anyone else said he could or couldn't be. He made me believe he could be anything. And that made me feel like I could be anything, too.

CHARLIE AND BLITZ

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are twin series. They are complementary stories, with different focuses and a shared heart. This is shown in Charlie and Blitz, their respective protagonists. They are opposites.

Charlie is a royal demon, a young rich girl, who is optimistic and idealistic. She is obsessed with seeing the good in others. Blitz is instead a humble imp, an adult man, who is cynical and genre-savy. He sees only the worst in people to protect himself. However, both disrupt the status quo:

Charlie decides to completely change the hierarchy between hell and heaven. She is breaking the system the world is built on and re-writing the laws of the universe.

Blitz changes things in little ways. He is not trying to reform society, but he still acts in ways society does not expect, so he subverts hierarchies and transforms people around him.

That's something that comes up several times:

Striker: Boss, huh…? Ohhh, so YOU'RE the bold imp to start his own killing biz? Blitzo: Yeah, well if you're good at somethin', you should probably capitalize. Striker: Not many Imps start businesses on their own. That's pretty impressive, sir.

Crimson: Oh, I'm sure. You got to be Blitz, with the silent "o", right? I've heard a lot of good things about you and your work. Blitzo: Really? What kind of shit has Moxxie been spreading about me? I'll fucking kill you Moxxie, don't you fucking test me! Crimson: No, no! From all over. Looks like you're building a bit of a name for yourself here, kid.

Both Striker and Crimson comment on Blitz's business, in two moments that are to be seen as parallels:

-Striker says so, as the group visits Millie's family. Millie's family is a relatively happy one, as they all clearly love each other. However, it is an economically struggling one:

Joe: We lost our old farm hand to one of them terrors last week.

Millie's parents are loving, but traditionalists and stuck in the old ways.

-Crimson says so, as the group meets him and discovers he is Moxxie's father. Crimson is an imp, who built an empire. Moreover, he is not scared to go against the hierarchy and to challenge even the deadly sins:

Crimson: You probably just asked if I know who I'm dealing with. And, oh yes, I know. The weakest and most non-threatening of the Sins. The king who will do whatever it takes to save the worst-kept secret in all of Hell. We both know you won't risk anything happening to the clown. So be a good little bitch boy, and do the thing. My lawyers will be over shortly with the contract of demands. You have until the witching hour to sign it. Hueheheheheheheh!

Still, he sacrifices everything else to greed. In order to climb up, he destroys everyone around him. He killed his wife and abused Moxxie, so his son leaves him the first chance he gets.

In other words, Blitz offers Millie the opportunity to social climb and he offers Moxxie true friendship and comraderie. He gives them what they miss and want.

STRIKER

Finally, this episode indirectly adds a new layer to Striker's character and his role in the series. So, Striker is clearly everyone's dark foil.

Specifically, he is Blitz's jungian shadow aka what Blitz represses:

Striker: Blitzo, come on. You know, the two of us are superior than most of our kind. And you were so above suckin' on a disgusting, rich, pompous Goetia, only to sneak topside for scraps and work for bitter sinners, who could care less who you are, when you could be slaying Overlords.

He embodies Blitz's darkest side and tempts him to give in to it. For example, he backs Blitz up in his fight with Fizz over Royal Demons:

Striker: As far as I'm concerned, you two are BOTH embarrassments to our kind for meddlin' with blue-bloods to begin with. But at least loud-mouth here has the sense to only fuck his rich bitch, instead of bein' a little purse dog. Blitzo: Oh, great. The fuckin' supremacist is on my side, wonderful. Fizzarolli: Neither of you filth bags know what you're even talkin' about. If you think you're superior to ANYONE, then you're no better than any royal— Striker: DON'T. You. Dare… Finish that sentence, clown…

And let's say it is not by chance Striker is burnt and probably gets some scars the same episode it is revealed Blitz accidentally set his family circus on fire:

He is clearly meant to embody the anti-theme, both when it comes to relationships and classism. He is who Blitz might become, if he gave in to his worst instincts. That is why he is the character physically threatening Stolas's life and calling him out on his privilege at the same time:

Striker: YOU. Don't get to talk over me! I don't have to listen to your bullshit! All you royals ever do is try to talk over us!

He challenges Stolas to see the darkness in Blitz he keeps ignoring. Moreover, Striker's attempt on Stolas only works because Blitz himself does not warn Stolas, believing that with his powers the goetia can easily survive an imp's attack:

Blitzo: Stolas got what? How?… He can get hurt?

In short, Striker is a key character for both Blitz and Stolas. That said, he does foil also Moxxie and Millie. (Which is why they get to fight him twice, just like Blitz - they lose the first time and win the second).

In his debut episode, he is openly juxtaposed to Moxxie. He is the ideal imp, the one Millie's parents would have liked their daughter to marry. He is a great farmer and an even better fighter. He is strong and charming and easily defeats Moxxie at everything, even music. That said, it turns out Moxxie is a far better person and husband and gets to call out Millie's parents on it, gaining their respect in the process:

Moxxie: Y'know, she protected me. And maybe I'm not a strong beefy dickhead, but Millie has the strength enough for both of us! You two are getting on her case about being hurt by a psychopath you hired?! Shaaaaame on you!

Ghostf***ckers instead makes Striker and Millie's foiling obvious. Both are wrathian assassins, who work as goons for others:

Millie: Not exactly a shortage of imp assassins in Wrath. Reputation is everything.

Here lies Striker's contradiction. He keeps saying he hates the hierarchy, but in the end he acts exactly as society expects him to:

Stolas: Well, you seem to be forgetting; you are working for a royal right now!

He hates royals, but takes orders from them. Even when he decides to leave Wrath, he goes to Greed, so exactly where "imps able to make a buck are welcome", according to Millie:

Crimson: HEY! Hick-for-hire! I said watch 'em, not fuck 'em. Keep ya hands off the merchandise!

See? Striker acts like some big shot, but in the end he operates within the system, rather than subverting it. Both Fizz and Blitz are far more successful at overcoming the hierarchy than he is. Fizz does not take orders from royals, but becomes a romantic and business partner to one. Blitz does not resort depending on royals or imps for his job. Rather, he takes orders only from himself and invents a new business.

Striker says not everyone gets the chance to live in Pride:

Striker: Look. Not every ring is some fancy-ass city, with some fancy-ass mansion, that only fancy-ass royals get to live in. Some of us have hard lives to live.

And yet, he is offered it by Blitz, just like Millie:

Blitzo: Isn't this guy great? It's gonna be nice workin' with him. Yeaaaah! I asked him if he wants to join I.M.P.

If he had joined IMP, he could have found a family, a strong business partner and could have embraced a new life. He did not and became IMP's enemy instead. On the contrary, Millie did and is now a happier and better person.

WHAT ABOUT LOONA?

Personally, I think Loona is gonna be key in Blitz's development, as both her past, arc and relationship with her dad are very well set up. If Moxxie focuses on relationships, whereas Millie on classism, Loona will probably offer a synthesis of both themes:

Loona is Blitz's adoptive daughter and the first member of his new found family.

Loona is a hellbound, so a demon even lower than imps.

I am very curious to see how her story develops and I am looking forward to discover more about her past and to see if her foiling with Bee gets explored more. After this episode I am more curious than ever!

[corviiids]

Shuake/akiren

Bittersweet

"You know, I don't actually come to Kichijoji that much," says Ann. "I didn't even know this place was here."

It's kind of a hole in the wall. In the floor. Ren glances back towards the narrow stairs like he's expecting someone. Muhen looks bored. He's flipping through a book at the counter.

"This is super good, though," Ann adds, holding up her mocktail. "Thanks for bringing me!"

"Sure," says Ren.

There's no singer today. She's not scheduled to come in for another couple of days. Maybe he'll bring Haru to see her then, since they're technically dating as of last Sunday.

Ann knows this, but didn't say anything about that when he asked her here tonight. She's too tactful for that. Besides, they're here as friends.

Ren's never brought a friend here. He's never brought anyone here. A handful of times, he was brought. The Jazz Jin feels comfortable and familiar enough to be an old haunt, but now that Ren really thinks about it, he hasn't even tried all the mocktails on the menu. What is it they say--that people come, and they go?

"Hey, so," Ann says softly.

It feels too weird to contemplate bringing Haru here. He really should. They're dating. He likes her. She likes him. He really does like her. It's just, the boy who'd brought him here that handful of times might have killed her father.

Some people may stay with you, though.

Ann's nails are painted an eggshell blue today. He isn't really sure why he called her--no, of course he is. It's always Ann he calls when he needs exactly what only she can give, something uniquely warm. Ren had been on the way to Kichijoji before he'd registered the tap of his train card, realised he couldn't stomach the music alone, and she'd said Hello? only a few shorts moments before he noticed he'd called her at all. Her company is like hot chocolate or a sticky toffee cake, warm and sweet, hard to feel empty with.

She folds her hands over his and says, "Hey, Ren, how are you feeling?"

Pretty alive, all things considered. So his cheek's a little tender, and maybe she had to help him down the stairs.

Ann squeezes his hand.

Someone changes the record. Ren likes this one. Someone else hadn't so much, but then, his opinion isn't of consequence anymore.

"I like the music here," Ann chirps. "Should I get a record player, do you think? You can give me recs, yeah?"

"Sure," says Ren again. He smiles back at her and doesn't look at the stairs again.

-

(send me a one word prompt)

[randomtacoscry]

what do you see in icemav?

Shit- why's this low-key a hard question? Like, I see A LOT in icemav but it sort of depends on like what lens I'm viewing it in.

Like, in terms of in what ways do I see them as romantic- there's quite a few. Film-wise, story-wise: I feel like when you make two halfs of a whole you can go about that with different dynamics - romantic, platonic, familial, etc. The reason I think it's romantic though is because there's the other aspects of their beings also being polar opposites: their hair/eye color, their heights, their flying style, their childhoods... there's a lot that makes it more romantic to find these differences in them and still understand that they care and respect one another. I mean, if they didn't, they wouldn't view the other as the only reasonable competition within Top Gun. Also, they begin the film as acquaintance-rivals only to end it as trusting the other with something they have never fully trusted anyone else with- their lives (and the lives of their RIOs). They've seen past their differences to understand that their values either align or are worth more to one another than before- hence: romantic (albeit that is not always the case). Furthermore, the way the film is shot is with a homoerotic tone. The volleyball scene, the bar scene, the shower room scene. All of these either have almost no skin covered, longing looks, flirtatious banter, or/and an isolating moment between Iceman and Maverick. Not to even mention the ridiculous amount of staring that goes on between the two of them throughout the duration of the movie. Also, much of the movie, during that time, was meant to mock the homoerotic nature of Navy camaraderie, which means it isn't far fetched to notice Maverick's sexual tension with more than one character who isn't Charlie. Iceman is just the most obvious, and I feel their poetic contrast makes them a better fit as a couple, which is why I ship them. Another note is Iceman apologizing to Mav in the locker room. It's an intimate scene that they share with only each other and, well, Hollywood (I believe) is around the corner. While his hiding is to ultimately call Charlie, the moment resembles two pilots being eavesdropped on by another- a snitch as told by the scene. This can easily signify the intimacy and depth of Ice and Mav's relationship as it is something to be kept secret- if someone hears, they may snitch on the two of them. While this may be a reach of sorts, I can't help but think the scene reflects a sort of invasion of privacy for an intimate, meaningful moment shared by two Navy men (in a locker room may I add) that the eavesdropper feels the need to report/share to a higher up.

In the terms of how I view their relationship; i.e. what I see within the ship itself- I see a lot of layers to Icemav, which is one of the main reasons I ship them (I ship Mystrade too so it doesn't always have to be for great reasons). Their poetic nature is one of the main reasons: Maverick being an orphan, working his way into the Navy, reckless in the air, fiery demeanor, and a sun-coded character whereas Iceman being the son of an admiral/commander, has nepotism and the expectation of the Navy, rule-follower in the air, cool/calm demeanor, and is a moon-coded character. They compliment each other in the best ways and work well with one another in their air because their skills align with each others perfectly. BUT, ship-wise I think their dynamic is super great because there's a lot to work with. As an angst fan, Ice's expectations oftentimes make him hide a part of himself- one that Mav is likely more chill with because of his reckless nature. This leads to them having to choose one another or their careers- or figure out how to live with both in the time in which they exist- or, the most tragic, having to end things because they both can't have what they want. Hypothetically, Ice won't choose Mav because Mav needs the Navy, and Mav can't choose between Ice and the Navy because that means leaving his best friend behind in a way. Ice doesn't want him to choose- he loves Mav too much to force him to so he'd probably choose for Mav- he'd leave. Other than the angsty will they-won't they aspects of their relationship, they have many other good dynamics. In TGM, it is shown that they both are close with Bradley ("the kid," Mav/Bradley fighting when Ice's death is announced referencing close attachments on both sides, Ice knowing Mav is the only one who can teach Bradley, Icemav's conversation about Bradley in Ice's office) which is great on a relationship level. Bradley is seen as the kid Icemav "never" had. They have a severed relationship but Icemav has a united front against Bradley (parent-vibes just saying). This adopted-kid trope is honestly one of my favs and adds so much relatability and domesticity to the Icemav ship- and it's totally feasible which is crazy. Carole died before Bradley could apply for the Navy, which means Bradley (who'd have signed up at 17-18 bc that's always been his dream) would need a parental guardian to care for him while he's a minor. Guess who Bradley's godfather is??? Maverick. So I would say that Mav raised Bradley during his later teen years and Ice referencing Bradley as "the kid" leads me to believe he played a part in Bradley's childhood alongside Mav. ALSO, Icemav's angst traumatizing Bradley would be another great reason for him to have some resentment against his pseudo-fathers. Overall, I do think Icemav is a great ship for the several layers it does have based on canon dynamic, time period, occupation- these all give great material for this couple. A few tags that this ship can easily use are: forbidden romance, rivals-to-lovers, enemies-to-lovers, right person wrong time, 1980s, idiots in love, shares a kid, friends-to-lovers, enemies-with-benefits, bittersweet ending, unhappy ending, main character death (sorry that was mean).

ALL IN ALL: I see a lot in Icemav and I think that's why they've kind of taken over my mind the past year and a half. They're the first ship I've ever actually attempted a long-fic for and I think that's for a reason. Also, I truly think it sucks that we get to see so little of their lives with one another (actually real homophobic writers would probably ruin it so instead I wanna fill in the blanks myself) but it does also give us the freedom to create a lovely, tragic answer for the missing 30 years in the timeline- which is some great material.

TLDR; On a film/story basis, several directional and artistic choices from the actors implies homoerotic dynamics and they would not have added so many lingering looks if they weren't at least a little gay. From a ship basis, Icemav has a lot to work with like their rivals-to-lovers dynamic, relationship with Bradley, and tragically implied last-minute relationships with women in TGM.

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slow burn

Word count: +4,5k

A/n: the next 3 chapters won’t follow Scream 6 plot as I wanted to add more storyline to the characters outside of the movies. If you want to read just Scream 6 plot, skip to Part 12. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Iris wiped down the counter of the bustling coffee shop she worked at, her focus shifting to the door as it swung open. Tara walked in, beaming, and Iris's face lit up with surprise. "What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, stepping around the register.

"I finished earlier today so I thought I'd come visit you! How's your day been?" Tara leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Extremely busy, talked to way too many people today, my social battery is over". Iris replied, rolling her eyes tiredly. "And don't even get me started on the Karens and the grumpy customers".

Tara laughed a little bit at her distress as she rubbed her shoulder in comfort. "But tell me, What about you?"

"Same old, we learned some things about movie making and then we watched a short film, it was a great day". Tara replied. "I was thinking we could check out that new taco place tonight. You in?"

Iris grinned, her excitement bubbling. "Absolutely!. I can't wait to relax" They exchanged ideas, the hum of the café fading as they planned their evening, savoring the joy of just being together.

Iris wiped her hands on her apron, leaning closer to Tara. "You have no idea how much I needed this surprise," she said, brushing her hand softly against Tara's.

Tara smiled, her voice softening. "I just wanted to see you. How about we get some beers with those tacos?"

"That sounds perfect," Iris replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of their evening. "I think you just made my day ten times better".

Just as Tara opened her mouth to respond, Miles, Iris's coworker, chimed in from the other side of the counter. "Hey, Iris, can you stop flirting with your girlfriend and get back to work?"

Both women flushed, exchanging quick glances. "We're just friends!" Iris blurted, her cheeks burning.

"Well can you and your friend stop flirting with each other and get back to work?".

"... We were not....". Iris paused mid-sentence as she noticed Miles turning away to focus on the coffee machine, oblivious to her response. "Okaaaay," she said with a sheepish smile at Tara. "Can you give me just five minutes? I need to help with the line forming." Tara nodded, a playful glint in her eye, and Iris turned back to her work, stealing glances at her friend as she poured drinks and took orders.

Iris busily attended to the steady stream of customers, exchanging smiles and friendly greeting as she prepared drinks. The shop buzzed with energy until the final customer stepped in.

It was a girl around their age, she had blonde wavy hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her striking green eyes were bright and expressive and she had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, while her confident smile reveals a hint of playfulness. She was pretty and she definitely knew it.

"Hello, what can I get for you?".

The girl, with a confident grin, approached the counter. "Hey there, can I get a caramel macchiato?".

"Sure anything else?"

"That depends, do you want to drink something?" She winked, her flirtation unmistakable.

Iris blushed under this girl's gaze, she wasn't used to this type of attention. She chuckled awkwardly, trying to remain professional. "Just the macchiato then". she replied, glancing at Tara, who stood nearby, her expression darkening with each passing second.

The girl jokingly pouted and then she gave her card. "How come I never saw you here... Iris?". She asked as she tried to read her name tag.

"You probably did, you just don't remember".

"I'm pretty sure I would".

Tara crossed her arms, her jaw tightening as she watched the interaction unfold. Iris turned to start making coffee, but the girl walked around the counter to keep talking to her.

"I'm Ashley, nice to meet you," the blonde said, her smile bright.

"Likewise," Iris replied, trying to remain friendly. Tara felt a surge of annoyance—why was Iris being so nice to this girl?

Finally it seemed that Ashley felt someone sending daggers at her way and she turned around, seeing Tara for the first time and she quickly took notice of the girl's face.

"You guys together?" Ashley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before Tara could respond, Iris quickly answered, "She's my best friend."

"Oh cool," Ashley said, smirking at Tara, who scoffed in indignation.

"Here's your coffee," Iris said, trying to shift the focus back.

"Thank you, cutie," Ashley said, and Tara almost gagged in disgust. Who even said that these days?

"Would it be too bold of me to give you my number?" The way the blonde leaned in closer made Tara's stomach churn, and she couldn't help but glare, silently willing Iris to step back and focus on her instead.

"I mean, I... sure?" Iris stammered, caught off guard.

Ashley grabbed a napkin and scribbled her number, quickly handing it to Iris. "Don't feel pressure to call me, but I'd really like it if you did." With a final smile, she turned and left, leaving Iris staring at the napkin in surprise.

As Iris turned to wipe the counter once again, she caught Tara's eye and noticed the mix of irritation and sadness on her face.

"What?" Iris asked, noticing Tara's tense expression.

"Nothing. I can't believe you accepted her number," Tara replied, frustration lacing her voice.

"I didn't want to be mean," Iris defended.

"Well, are you going to call her?" Tara shot back.

"I don't know, maybe? I haven't really thought about dating again, but it might be good for me."

Tara lowered her gaze for a moment before meeting Iris's eyes again. "Yeah, who knows?"

"You okay?" Iris asked, puzzled by Tara's sudden shift in mood.

"Yeah, I'm just getting a headache. I'm gonna head home. See you there." Without waiting for a response, Tara turned and left, leaving Iris staring after her, a mix of concern and confusion swirling in her mind.

A few days later, Iris found herself sitting across from Ashley at a trendy little restaurant. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and clinking glasses, but Iris felt a tightness in her chest. She wasn't sure on going on this date but she figured what's the worse that could happen? She needed to move on somehow and maybe going on dates would help her. When she mentioned her date to Sam and Tara, Sam had looked surprised, cautioning her to be careful, while Tara simply told her to have fun before retreating to her room. The sudden shift in Tara's demeanor left Iris feeling confused and slightly hurt as she didn't understand why Tara was suddenly avoiding her.

As the conversation flowed, Iris attempted to focus on Ashley's stories, but her thoughts drifted back to Tara, a constant, unwelcome distraction. Ashley was charming and confident, her laughter infectious, yet each time she leaned in closer, a flicker of doubt ignited within Iris.

The memories of her last relationship flooded back, betrayals that left scars she hadn't fully healed. And she found herself wondering if she could ever go past that. Everytime they laughed she kept thinking if Ashley was going to pull a knife and stab her in the stomach until she realized how insane she was sounding.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Ashley asked, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I, um... I like hanging out with friends," Iris replied, her thoughts drifting to how much she missed Tara's presence. "Especially Tara. She's always up for something fun."

Ashley raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face. "Is that the girl from the other day?" At Iris nod of acknowledging, she continued. "Sounds like you really enjoy her company."

Iris bit her lip, realizing she had mentioned Tara too often. "Yeah, she's important to me," she admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

As the date continued, Iris struggled to engage. She kept imagining Tara's smile, her laughter, and the way she seemed mad at her when she left that night. The connection with Ashley felt forced, and every time she tried to push aside her lingering trust issues, they bubbled back to the surface.

By the time dessert arrived, Iris knew this wasn't working but she continued engaging on the date to not make it worse for the other girl who was clearly trying. When the bill came, Ashley offered to pay but Iris declined as she felt like it was the least she could do, after all, she wasn't really planning on seeing her again.

As they wrapped up the evening, Iris smiled weakly, grateful for Ashley's tries, but deep down, she felt a mix of relief and disappointment.

After their date, Ashley walked Iris home, their footsteps echoing softly against the pavement until they reached her front door.

"This is me," Iris said, managing a weak smile. "Thank you for coming with me."

"It's no problem, really," Ashley replied, stepping closer with a hint of eagerness. "So, I had fun—maybe I can get a kiss?" She leaned in confidently, and in that moment, Iris felt an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. As their lips touched, she felt... nothing. The kiss was light and fleeting, and Iris pulled back almost instinctively, a wave of confusion washing over her.

"I'll see you Ashley". The girl quickly realizing that Iris wasn't going to invite her in, said goodbye and left.

When she stepped into her apartment, the familiar scent hit her, but it did little to lift her spirits. She sighed heavily, letting her purse and jacket tumble onto the sofa, feeling the weight of the world settle on her shoulders. The silence enveloped her as she trudged to her room, her feet dragging across the floor. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she dropped her head into her hands, disappointment curling in her chest.

It wasn't long before the sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness. She looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

"Hey, so the date didn't go well? Did she suck?" She asked, trying to inject some levity into the moment.

"She was actually really charming and nice," Iris replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then why do you look like that?" Sam pressed, her brow furrowed with worry.

"I just can't," she murmured, frustration lacing her words.

"Can't what? Have fun on a date? Of course you can."

"Do you have fun on dates?" she shot back, her heart racing.

"I don't go on dates at all," she admitted, her tone somber.

"And why is that?" she asked, sensing the familiar heaviness that hovered between them.

"You know why," she said quietly, their shared history hanging in the air like a ghost.

They both sighed, the sound filled with a shared despair. "Then I guess you also know why I didn't have fun today," she confessed, feeling the sting of her own vulnerability. "She was sweet, and maybe if I didn't carry all this baggage, I could have actually liked her. But I spent the whole night fighting with my thoughts, literally thinking about anything and Ashley was the last thing on my mind."

"What else did you think about?" Sam asked, her gaze piercing yet gentle.

"Just stuff. It doesn't matter," she replied, but they both knew it did.

"I understand that. Are you going to start therapy? You study psychology and yet you don't go," she nudged, a note of concern slipping into her voice.

"I know, I have to. I thought I could do it by myself, but clearly, it's not working," she admitted, shame creeping in.

Sam moved beside her, enveloping her in a tight hug, the kind that felt like a lifeline. "Eventually, we are going to be fine," she whispered, the warmth of her words wrapping around her like a security blanket.

"Aren't you afraid you're never going to love someone again?" she asked, the vulnerability creeping back in.

"It's not something I'm thinking about right now," she replied, though her eyes revealed a deeper turmoil. "But you, Iris, you have to understand that nothing that happened was your fault."

"What if that's the only type of love I'm ever going to get? Toxic and manic?" Her voice trembled, the fear clawing at her insides.

"One day, you're going to find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, warm and healthy," she reassured her, her sincerity grounding her.

"I hope so," she whispered, the hope feeling like a fragile thread.

"Who knows? Maybe it's someone you already know or someone you haven't met yet," she said, a hint of optimism breaking through.

"I'm just scared, Sam. I'm so angry and terrified that I will never love again," she confessed, the tears threatening to spill.

"Don't think like that okay? That love is going to knock on your door one day, and I hope you don't let it go to waste," she replied, her voice unwavering.

"One day, you're going to find it too, you know?" Iris added softly.

"We will see. Now come here," she said, pulling her into another embrace, a moment of solace amidst the storm.

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted their quiet moment. Tara entered, her expression shifting to concern as she assessed the atmosphere.

"Hey, I saw you were here," she said, her eyes flitting between the two. "Are you guys okay?"

Sam stood up to give them space. "Yeah, I'm gonna go to my room. You guys talk," she said, offering a soft smile before slipping outside.

Tara settled next to Iris, who looked at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me," Iris said, her heart racing.

"Why wouldn't I?" Tara murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"I don't know, but I'm glad you're here," Iris said, tentatively reaching for her hand. Their fingers brushed, sending a small spark through her.

"Did you have fun?" Tara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not really," Iris admitted, the weight of her disappointment still heavy.

"Why not?" Tara probed gently.

"It turns out I'm too traumatized," Iris laughed quietly, the sound tinged with bitterness. "Also, I just didn't like her."

"Well, she certainly did like you a lot," Tara remarked, a small scoff escaping her lips.

Iris chuckled at that, warmth spreading in her chest. "I don't care. I'd rather be here," she said, her fingers intertwining with Tara's. "With you."

She felt Tara's sharp intake of breath and the way her grip tightened. "I'm glad. I'd rather be here with you too," Tara whispered, her eyes searching Iris's.

Tara leaned in closer, their shoulders brushing, the warmth radiating between them. Iris could feel the soft thud of her heart, an echo of hope. They sat in a comfortable silence, fingers still intertwined, the weight of the past lifting just a little in the warmth of their connection.

Two months had slipped by since that failed night and Iris and Tara had gotten closer than ever. Their friendship had deepened, filled with laughter, late-night talks, and moments that made Iris's heart race. Yet every time the atmosphere turned slightly out of the friendship context—when their hands brushed or their eyes lingered a moment too long—something within Iris would clench, and she would pull away, retreating into her protective shell.

When Iris returned home from work, she felt a sense of excitement bubbling inside her. She had planned a night in with Tara and Sam, as it was her turn to pick a movie and she decided to go with a classic one she knew Tara would love and  she also packed a bag of her favorite snacks. The smell of home assaulted her nostrils as she unlocked the door of their shared aparment. 

Iris stepped inside and paused, taking in the sight of Tara sprawled on the sofa, her hair slightly disheveled and a silly smile on her face as she looked up from her phone. "Hey, girl!" Iris beamed, plopping down beside her, the cushions sinking beneath them. "So, I found the perfect movie for today. It's kinda old, don't know if you know it, but I think you'll love it!"

Tara grimaced slightly, her brow furrowing as she cleared her throat. "Mmm, I can't today."

"Why not? You okay? We can do something else..." Iris's heart sank at the prospect of their plans being changed.

"I have a date," Tara announced.

"What?" Iris's voice rose an octave, disbelief washing over her.

"I have a da—" Tara began, but Iris quickly interrupted "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Since when do you have dates?" Iris emphasized the word "dates," making exaggerated air quotes with her fingers, disbelief and annoyance flooding her senses.

"Since now," Tara replied, her tone nonchalant as she met Iris's gaze.

"But why?" Iris pressed, a knot in her stomach tightening and she didn't really understand why.

"Well, it's easy, Iris. If you want someone to go on a date with you, you just ask them." Tara fixed her with a serious stare. "So he asked me, and I said yes."

"Now why the fuck would you say yes?" Iris stood abruptly, a surge of frustration fueling her actions.

"Why wouldn't I? Maybe going out with someone would do me good." The words felt like a punch to Iris's gut, echoing the same phrase she had given to Tara when she had gone out with Ashley, which only made her blood boil.

"Well, you can't go," Iris declared, as if she had the final word in the matter.

"What the fuck? Of course I can go!" Tara shot back, rising from the sofa as well, the tension in the room palpable.

"No, you can't! It's dangerous! You don't know who this person is! What if he's some random trying to be Ghostface?" Iris's protective instincts were on high alert, her heart racing.

"Bullshit, you didn't think about any of that when you went out with Ashley!" Tara retorted, her frustration matching Iris's.

"It's different," Iris countered, her voice rising as they stared each other down, the atmosphere crackling with unspoken emotions.

"Why?" Tara demanded, her eyes challenging Iris to say something, the air thick with tension.

"What's his name? Do I know him? What does he look like?" Iris fired off a rapid series of questions, anger overtaking her.

"What's up with all these questions?" Tara stood her ground, a mix of irritation and curiosity on her face.

"I'm just asking, that's all! You're still not answering!" Iris felt her pulse quicken.

"This is insane. It almost sounds like you're jealous," Tara said, her voice low and curious, a smirk forming on her lips at the idea. "but that would be impossible, right?"

"Of course it would be impossible, jealous? Me? I'm not jealous! Don't be ridiculous! I'm only asking because I'm worried about your safety! They could be a total creep for all I know!" Iris's emotions spilled out, raw and vulnerable.

"Eee, what's going on?" Both Sam and Mindy appeared from the kitchen, drawn by the rising tension in the room.

"Tara is going out with a potential killer" Iris declared dramatically.

"Iris, what the fuck?" Tara looked incredulous.

"What?" Sam was now fully alert, glancing back and forth between them.

"No one is a potential killer. His name is Drew, and he's Chad's friend from football," Tara clarified, rolling her eyes.

"And? C'mon, Sam, back me up!" Iris implored, frustation creeping into her voice.

Sam hesitated, torn between agreeing with Iris and her sister's firm stance. She sensed the urgency in Iris's eyes but also the pleading look in Tara's expression. Seeing Iris acting so weird about it was definetely something to talk about, maybe this would be the push the girl needed to finally do something. Plus she had a tracking device on Tara, she will be keeping an eye on her. "Okay, go, but you message me all the time, and I'm keeping the tracker," Sam finally relented.

"You still have that tracker? Jesus, Sam," Tara remarked, half-amused, half-annoyed. Sam simply stared at her, unwavering. "Fine."

Iris felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. "So just like that?" She couldn't hide her shock.

"Just like that," Tara affirmed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she patted Iris's arm before heading to her room to get ready.

"I can't believe you let her go!" Iris exclaimed, her disbelief bubbling over.

"Well, what did you want me to do? Lock her up in the room?" Sam countered, her brow raised in challenge.

"Yes!" Iris's response came out sharper than intended.

Mindy, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with barely contained laughter, chimed in. "You're so jealous I almost feel sorry for you." she declared, amusement lighting up her face. "But then I remember you are an idiot and I go back to normal".

"For the last time, I'm not jealous!" Iris shot back, her cheeks flushing.

"Saying it ten thousand times doesn't make it true!" Mindy teased, her laughter infectious.

"Fuck off, Mindy, and fuck you too, Sam!" Iris huffed, storming off to her room. "Fucking traitor" She mumbled under her breath. As she slammed the door behind her, she could still hear the sound of their laughter echoing down the hall, only fueling the fire of her annoyance.

Inside her room, Iris paced back and forth, the weight of her emotions crashing over her. She didn't understand what she was feeling but she hated it and she needed it to stop. She tossed her phone onto the bed, staring out the window at the night sky, which seemed to reflect her inner turmoil. The thought of Tara laughing with another person, enjoying a night that could be shared with her, twisted her stomach into knots but she wasn't fucking jealous, she was just worried. Honestly who the hell would name their child Drew?.

Iris lounged on the sofa, the soft fabric cradling her as she flicked through channels mindlessly, the muted glow of the TV casting gentle shadows around the room. She had lost track of time, her thoughts drifting between the day's events and the comforting rhythm of her breathing. Just as she began to feel the weight of solitude, the front door creaked open, and she turned around meeting with Tara who gently waved at her.

Iris's expression went from surprised to concern, it was still too early for her date to be over. "Tara!" Iris jumped up. "You're back already?"

"Yeah, it was... not great," Tara admitted, biting her lip as she approached Iris. "I realized pretty quickly it wasn't what I wanted."

Iris couldn't help but admire Tara as she stepped through the room, the soft glow of the hallway light catching the shimmer of her dress. The deep emerald fabric hugged her curves in all the right places and a delicate silver necklace, adorned with a small, glistening pendant, glinted as she moved, adding a touch of elegance. Tara's hair fell in effortless waves around her shoulders, framing her face beautifully, and Iris felt a swell of admiration, thinking how effortlessly stunning her friend looked, an image that would linger in her mind long after the day ended.

"Oh, that sounds awful. I'm really sorry," Iris said, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, frustration and embarrassment swirling inside her. She had replayed the incident in her mind, and while the anger lingered, it was overshadowed by her embarrassment over her own outburst.

"Na, it's okay. I don't really care," Tara replied, settling onto the couch beside her. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her casual demeanor surprising Iris. "Plus, he wasn't really my type."

Iris couldn't help but chuckle at Tara's attempt at humor. "What's your type then? Muscular guys, blondes?"

Tara paused, her gaze fixed on Iris as if she were analyzing her, weighing her words carefully. "Brunettes with a terrible sense of humor."

"That's oddly specific," Iris laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is this the moment you tell me you have a crush on Chad?" She pretended to gag dramatically, eliciting a soft smile from Tara, who continued to gaze at her with an intensity that made Iris's heart flutter.

"Oh yeah, the love of my life," Tara teased, and they both burst into laughter. "Maybe we can watch a movie?"

"You're not tired?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not for you," Tara replied, a soft grin spreading across her face. Iris felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks, so she looked away, nodding in agreement. "Give me five minutes so I can get into my pajamas."

A few minutes later, Tara returned, her comfy sweatpants and oversized tee a stark contrast to her earlier outfit. They settled onto the couch, the soft cushions sinking beneath them as Tara reached for the remote, while Iris pulled a cozy blanket over their laps. As Tara scrolled through the options, Iris found her voice again.

"I'm sorry," Iris blurted out, guilt flooding her system. "I shouldn't have freaked out earlier. I just—"

"No, Iris, it's okay," Tara interrupted, stepping closer. "I get it. You care about me. I just... I didn't expect you to be so upset about me going out with someone."

"But I get it, with everything that happened last year, it's not easy to trust people".

Iris was surprised by Tara's understanding and as she nodded in agreement she couldn't help but feel bad as it felt like she was lying. She just didn't know at who, Tara or herself.

"Still, I'm sorry, it won't happen again".

"Okay, I appreciate it". After a few moments of silence, Tara spoke again, glancing up with a smile. "I found this rom com, thought it might be fun."

"I'm in," They exchanged casual remarks about the movie, the tension from earlier fading away, replaced now by a cozy atmosphere.

As the story unfolded on screen, Iris felt Tara shift closer, their thighs brushing against each other. She glanced at the girl who was utterly absorbed in the film, her eyes bright and animated.

She felt Tara move uncomfortably in the couch just as she brought the blanket closer to her.

"You know you're taking all the blanket away from me," Iris said with a playful grin, her voice light with amusement.

Tara looked at her, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm cold," she replied, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips, her eyes darting back to the screen.

"Well, come closer then," Iris suggested, her tone inviting.

Iris felt the warmth of Tara's body enveloping her, a soothing presence that made her heart swell. She instinctively draped her arm around Tara, pulling her closer. Tara nestled into her side, letting out a contented sigh that sent a rush of warmth through Iris.

"Is this okay?" Iris asked softly, glancing down at Tara, who was now looking up at her with a smile.

"More than okay," Tara replied, her eyes sparkling.

"You know, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked," Iris said, wiggling her eyebrows. Moments later, she felt a gentle slap on her arm.

"You think you're funny but you're just a little shit"

"Thank you". Iris couldn't help but smile, feeling a wave of affection wash over her.

As the movie progressed, Iris found herself losing track of the plot, completely captivated by the feeling of Tara curled against her. She absentmindedly played with a strand of Tara's hair, twirling it around her fingers, each touch sending tingles down her spine.

Tara shifted slightly, her arm slipping around Iris's waist, pulling her in even closer. The intimacy felt electric, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Iris's heart raced as Tara nestled her face into the crook of Iris's neck, breathing in the familiar scent that always calmed her. She found herself lost in thoughts about how Tara had looked for her date, a vision that lingered vividly in her mind. Suddenly, an urge to express her feelings bubbled up within her, and she felt this need to share what she thought.

"You know, I don't really remember the last time I saw you in a dress," Iris said, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips.

"Yeah, it's not really my thing, but I wanted to try something new," Tara replied, laughter spilling from her lips like music, a sound that resonated deep within Iris. "Did I look ridiculous?"

Iris shook her head, her pulse quickening. "I thought you looked beautiful." The words slipped out, filled with sincerity and warmth.

Tara's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, and she locked eyes with Iris, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Really?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling, as if she could hardly believe it.

"Yeah, stunning," Iris replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tara didn't say anything else but she reached out , intertwining her fingers with Iris's. As they continued watching the movie, their hands remained clasped, the warmth radiating between them a comforting reminder of their bond.

[chisubi]

a recollection of bellflowers — h. rindō

content. fem!reader, slice of life, implied／referenced infidelity (not by you or rindō), non-linear

word count. 7.4k

note. this is something i’ve been working on for a while because i have no idea how to write rindō . . . >< i wanted this to have a summery shōjo feel to it, so hopefully i was able to capture it well enough ?? (also, sorry, this is a little unedited.)

i had to force myself to finish this or else i would end up forgetting about it again ! there’s only three parts to this, however, updates will be sporadic :x

part one ／ from summer, 1999

Your fiancé has a lover in Tokyo.

He doesn’t tell you, you never ask, you just know — a woman’s intuition is never wrong. Something you learned from your dear mother.

Two nights ago, while you are both lying beside one another in bed, he complains that he has yet another business trip in Tokyo [his last one was just a few weeks ago], he asks if there is anything you would like him to buy — like that dessert you find yourself indulging in a little too much these days, a new novel to add to your collection of unread books that you swear you will get to them eventually, a new set of coffee mugs or a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You tell him, “No, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

He doesn’t press when you decline. Instead, he leans down to capture your lips with his before he leaves; the wind rushes by, chilling over the spot he had touched. His “I’ll miss you” never reaches you, carrying with it the ghosts of your past. His “I love you” completely passes you by. Ever-so-fleeting.

It’s been this way for a few months now. You don’t know when it first began, but the signs became more and more obvious as the days passed by. Rather than sadness or anger, you don’t really feel anything anymore. Only regret remains. Those memories and promises you both made together are beginning to fade. And what seems to make your heart shake is that you don’t know what to do, despite change and abandonment seemingly always following after you. Time and time again. Even after all these seasons, you are still lost.

When summer burns, or when fireworks spark up the midnight sky, you feel it on your tongue and skin as the same memories fill your mind once again. That summer night by the river’s edge. And summer nights following that — all of them are unforgettable, always leaving you feeling the bittersweet taste of citrus and honey drowning in the back of your throat. Too sweet, too sour. 

No matter where you are in the world, a spirit of a little girl clinging onto the sandbox of an old playground remains in Roppongi. Abandoned, yet not once forgotten. Your flesh, blood, and bones will always be made up of Rindō and Ran from way back then. You hold these memories deep in your heart so preciously like a collection of little treasures as you continue to grow older.

A quarter before midnight, the moon is down and clouded by the fog; you take the train all the way to Roppongi. It’s strangely empty inside, you cannot see what lies outside. Tired and uneasy, the sound of the midnight train running across the tracks lulls you to sleep.

—

You are eleven when your mother drops you off at your grandfather’s house all the way in Roppongi during the summer; miles away from the countryside you grew up in. She doesn’t wait for your grandfather to open the door to come and greet you. She yells out how she will see you in a few weeks, the engine roars, and she is gone.

You have never met any grandparents before. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about them, so you never ask, not wanting to overstep the invisible line (she is scary when she is in a foul mood). You learn to be a good child because you want to see your mother smile again — she stopped smiling for months now, and you don’t know why. However, you believe she will feel better once she picks you up in a few days.

After all, adults need their rest as well (or something like that).

You soon also learn that your grandfather is a tall, scary man. A seemingly permanent scowl, a low and gruff voice that is only heard through a few words. A strong scent of alcohol lingers on the collar of his shirt – one you sometimes smell on your mother’s breath – he looks at you so emptily, then sighs. The chill in the air prickles against your exposed skin, you gulp.

No matter how silent of a man he is, you are a good daughter, so you introduce yourself to him and thank him for letting you stay with him — “I’ve always imagined meeting you, grandpa. I saw you in a picture before!” 

These words seem to catch his attention. His tracks stop, he doesn’t look back, and all you can see is his wide back. You hear him mumble something beneath his breath, you don’t catch any of the words — you weren’t meant to. Something sticks out about your grandfather. Something you can’t help, but focus on is his missing a pinky. You try not to stare, and he doesn’t say anything when he catches your innocent, curious eyes. Rather, he doesn’t say anything at all to you and you can’t help but become overly sensitive to every draw of his breath.

You wish you were back home in that little countryside town, tucked far away from this bizarre place. You want your mother to come and pick you up.

You would rather be at home with her than here.

—

Surprisingly, you got more sleep than you expected last night. This is your first time sleeping in a bed that doesn’t belong to you; in a place that is so foreign to you.

And you guess it wasn’t so bad. The mattress is a lot softer than the one back at home.

Breakfast is simple and traditional. A bowl of steamed rice, fried mackerel with a side of nattō (you don't like the smell, but you try your best to swallow the beans without making any faces, and fail). The mackerel on your plate is neatly pulled apart, bones discarded, and you smile to yourself. Your grandfather is more attentive — kinder than he looks. Your teachers have always told you and your classmates to never judge someone based on their appearance.

“Um . . . Grandpa?” Silence is met with your call. However, you take that silence as a sign to continue speaking. “Can I, uh, may I go outside for a little bit?” 

“There’s a park nearby,” he simply replies with a few words before directing his attention back onto the television.

Your eyes brighten. “Okay, thank you!”

Quickly shoving down your breakfast, you’re out the door and ready to play.

So, your grandfather isn’t the greatest at giving directions. After some twists and turns and walking back and forth, it is not too hard to find the park he vaguely described. 

There's a group of kids playing on the playground, dangling off the monkey bars and sitting around. Too shy to approach, you shuffle over to the swing set, and rock yourself back and forth.

After some moments of swinging, and looking back at them to your feet, you hear a bunch of footsteps heading towards you.

You look up in anticipation and nervously smile at the group of boys in front you. Maybe they want to join you? [Hopefully.] “Um, hi! Did you want to—” Your words are immediately cut off as someone steps right in front of you.

“Get off.”

“H-huh?”

“H-huh?” A boy mocks with a high pitch tone and your cheeks heat up when you hear laughter surrounding you.

“Get off so we can play,” this one stands in front of you, hair short with a red cap in his hand. “You can hear properly, right?”

Someone says, “No, I don’t think she can.”

Another laughs.

The short-haired boy glares at you, hand reaching over and tugs on your hair — hard. You yelp as your hand immediately wraps around his wrist. “We told you to move, so move,” he harshly shouts and you flinch as your ear rings.

You don’t understand why they’re mad or why they are telling you to leave. This has never happened to you back at home before.

You yell at the boy to let go of you, pushing his arm away as hard as you can. However, this action only leads him to pull hard this time. You yelp. The group breaks out into snickers and grins.

Traitorously, your body betrays you as tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You don’t want to cry — you don’t like crying, never wanting anyone to see your tears. But you feel so helpless and lost and alone.

"Hey, wait, you're gonna make her cry. . .” Someone speaks up and for a second, you’re hopeful.

“I’m not even doing it hard. She’s just being a baby,” the short-haired boy scoffs before he accuses, “why do you care? You like her?”

His face flushes, and beneath the thick frames of his glasses, his widened eyes shake. “No way!”

“I bet you think she’s pretty.”

The boy gags as he takes great strides away from you. His arms cross over his chest as he yells, “Gross. Over my dead body.”

“Oh, is that so?”

It’s a voice that comes out of nowhere, causing you to jump. Colour drained from the faces in front of you; awfully, sickly pale.

And it comes fast all too fast — someone running in between you and the group of boys with a flying fist. Another one and another one. Colour falls from your cheeks mirroring the group and unlike them, you find yourself unable to move. To run away. You think you see a drop of red splattered on the concrete as you tightly shut your eyes, your body shakes and you cover your ears in an attempt to block the sound.

Someone cries. Screams, shoes smacking against the pavement, and laughter — one both loud and taunting. Then all of a sudden, everything goes silent. Hesitantly, you slowly open your eyes. Purple fills your entire vision. You jump at the sudden close proximity, you can feel their hair tickling your cheek as he leans in close to you.

There’s glass covering purple gems.

The boy asks, "Are you good?” 

You slowly nod, “Thank you for, um . . . helping me?” You say this rather confusingly, unable to comprehend everything that had happened within minutes. You take a step back as you look around, you don’t see any of those boys from earlier. They vanished as if they were never here, the footprints made in the sandpit and droplets of blood remind you otherwise. 

Your eyes fall towards his hands that punched those bullies — knuckles all red, you bite your lip to conceal your quivering lips. You turn to the taller boy with no visible cuts or bruises, only a smug grin on his face that matches with the one in front you, and you thank him as well. When you take a better look at him, you notice the two of them sort of look similar.

He looks down at you and waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Those guys were lame for ganging up on you. They always pick fights with people weaker than them.”

“Right, those idiots got what was coming for them,” the other boy adds with a laugh. “Are you not from around here?”

You shake your head.

“Thought so. Haven’t seen you around here before. So, what’s your name? I’m Rindō, and that’s my older brother, Ran,” the boy – Rindō – introduces.

You tell them your name and thank them once again.

“Uh-uh. Just tell us if they bother you again. We’ll deal with it,” says Ran.

You perk up, “You will?”

“Yeah, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.”

Roppongi belongs to the two boys who don’t seem older than you. Confused, you ask, “Are you guys protectors or something? Like heroes?”

Your words are met with snorts that evolve into laughter. Beside you, Rindō gives you a toothy grin as he readjusts his glasses. “I guess if that’s what you think, then sure.”

The heroes of Roppongi.

The sun is shining and his smile glows.

Meeting the Haitani brothers was probably nothing special, a similar story that could be told by countless people during their youth. However, to you, an eleven-year-old girl being picked on at the playground, helpless and tear-stained, they seemed like your heroes. So bright and blinding. A moment that changes your entire life.

—

Ran and Rindō have come to knock on the door to your grandfather’s house nearly everyday since then. When the old man opens it to see two unfamiliar children, he sighs before calling out your name (which makes your heart jump from your chest from how loud his voice can be). And you’re quick to slip on your old running shoes and bolt out the door.

Rindō tells you he found a cool place the other day, a hidden room at the back of an old shrine, and he wants to show it to you. Keeping up with the Haitanis is hard; chasing after them is even harder. Their legs aren’t that much longer than yours, but their strides are far too long, too fast.

Rindō is kind enough to slow down, only for a moment. “You’re too slow,” he complains before grabbing your hand and pulls you along to keep up with them. Without noticing, you don’t trip over your own feet anymore.

“Careful, Rindō,” Ran lowly warns as his hand reaches out and wraps around Rindō’s wrist, pulling him away from walking up the stone steps. The tall, red torii gate looms above. A crow lingers at the very top. “Don’t you know young children get spirited away here?”

“Huh? Spirited away? Like the movie?”

“No, no. Not the film, Rin,” Ran snickers at his brother’s words, you don’t understand what Ran finds so funny. And Rindō doesn’t seem to know either, but his face is red and he looks mad at Ran. “The legends. Haven’t you heard that the yōkai will come and snatch you up? They take away children who run off alone. They’ll come to get you, dummy.”

Rindō shakes his head, staring up at his brother with skeptical lavender eyes. “No way. You’re just trying to scare me again. I won’t fall for it anymore, nii-chan.”

“Nuh-uh, ‘m serious this time.” Ran says this so lightly, it sounds unconvincing.

Rindō's glare hardens as he crosses his arm. “Okay. Why are you such a liar these days?”

“Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No—”

You block out their childish bickering — they always seem to do this. It’s always Ran who seems to start it. And through their yelling, an old memory flashes in your mind. Your head perks up in remembrance as you gasp. 

This garners their attention because they both immediately stop their “argument” and turn to look at you.

“Wait, it is true! I heard that Tomoko-chan from the class next door visited the shrine last summer and she never returned . . .” you pitch in with the eerie rumour your classmates had whispered to each other last year — Tomoko-chan got taken away by a monster. Those words reach to the end of the long hallways and snuck into the wooden panels in the room. Kids at school don’t go anywhere alone now.

In the distance, a crow caws.

So, you learn something new: monsters also live in the city. They don’t only reside in the little town you grew up in. Monsters exist everywhere in the world.

The brothers send each other a look, one that you don’t understand, something only they know — only them. You watch as they communicate through stares alone before turning their attention back onto you.

“Really?”

Quickly nodding, you add, “Yup, it’s true. I swear. Everyone said so. She went to make a wish, and then disappeared. Her family isn’t even in town anymore.”

Ran lets out an exaggerated sigh. He crosses his arms with a half smile to his face. “See, I was looking out for you.”

“Right. Don’t you think you’ve been lying too much to me lately? At least, learn to make it believable.”

Ran laughs before quietly saying, “If you’re scared, just say so.”

The crow above the gate caws, careful, you glance up at the noise, to the long steps then to Ran, and then Rindō, who looks up at his brother clearly unimpressed.

Obviously, Rindō isn’t scared of ghosts, or yōkai, or monsters that eat children. He is already too old to believe in things like that. He protests and says this, despite you and Ran telling him otherwise, Rindō is skeptical. He says he still doesn’t believe you, he can’t believe you would make up a lie and follow Ran, and you tell him you would never lie to him or anybody. Only bad people lie.

However, the Haitani brothers are closer than anyone — they told you this when you first met, so it’s to no one’s surprise when they turn around and gang up on you instead. Because you are scared, or so Rindō insists. Ran says it’s okay because you are a girl and you’re just a baby compared to them. It’s true, you are scared of the yōkai who snatch away wandering children. You aren’t scared because of the reasons Ran says. It’s rather annoying how Ran calls you a baby for something like that.

(You don’t tell him that, though.)

The three of you don’t enter the shrine. They show you around the neighbourhood and some spots they like to hang out at, like an arcade and a newly opened ramen shop. The entire time, Ran holds both of your hands tightly, you are sure he is holding Rindō’s even tighter. Your shadows are overlapped, mixing together. The yōkai don’t come for them or you. You are safe together. 

As the sun begins to set, you stop by a food stall, the old lady running it tells you that you look so pretty and you remind her of her granddaughter. She gives a discount — 100 yen for six pieces. Ran takes out the coin from his pocket and he divides the takoyaki between the three of you before heading home. 

It’s quiet when you enter the house, nobody welcomes you home, but your grandfather sits in the living room watching television again. He spares you a glance, before turning his attention back to the t.v. Static and muffled voices fill the house.

—

A week turns into two, then three. Summer passes by quickly here in Roppongi. Everything moves so fast in the city, it’s exhilarating — overwhelming. Your little body struggles to keep up.

You run, run, and run the days away.

Again and again, you fall.

(Rindō and Ran pick you back up.)

“My mom abandoned me,” you tell Rindō one afternoon, weakly adding in, “. . . I think.” Hopefulness seeps through; a child’s innocence, your naïveté.

Underneath the big oak tree, Rindō turns to look at you while opening the blue ramune and gives it to you to drink first — he was supposed to buy two, but he forgot the rest of his change at home. He says it’s fine because he doesn’t mind sharing his drink with you. He shares drinks with Ran all the time. And you don’t mind it either.

“. . . She will,” he slowly replies, “maybe she is just busy working — adults are like that, y’know. What about your dad?”

Adults are like that, at least the ones you know. Your mom is probably busy, but either way, she lied to you and this is what hurts. You don’t try to hide your disappointment in her.

You shake your head, looking down at your swaying feet. “I don’t know.” 

You really don’t know.

You don’t remember his face, eyes, and everything is blurred, but you recall his boxy smile and a heavy hand that ruffled your hair. 

“I haven’t seen my dad before either. I don’t even think that guy knows I exist.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “Are you lonely without him?”

He shakes his head, hair bouncing with every movement. “Nah, I have Ran. Even though he’s so annoying these days.”

The two [three] of you are similar in a way. It’s rather comforting knowing you aren’t the only one with a family like that.

Rindō vows to you that he will always be by your side so you aren’t alone anymore, because he has Ran, but you don’t have an older brother like Ran to stay with you.

He holds your hand — one so cold and sticky from the blue ramune. Again, he tells you that you still have him and Ran, because you are his best friend. Maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time. His words are warm, so you don’t mind his cold fingers touching yours — it cools you down from the heat, even if the rest of your body is melting under the summer sun. Somehow, it always finds a way to peek through the little gaps, through the spaces between your fingers.

Together, you finish the ramune with lighter hearts.

At the end of summer, you are still at your grandfather’s house — your mother never comes to get you. That little, big, tiny feeling brewing in you all summer in Roppongi turned out to be right. But you aren’t alone.

Time flows quickly in Roppongi. Months pass by in a blink of an eye.

—

Coming home to the city where everything first began leaves your thoughts in a flurry; too jumbled and twisted. This house hasn’t changed one bit, walking into your old bedroom feels like a dream; both familiar and alien. A few of your old belongings still remain in place, you never have it in you to pack it up and bring them with you. Your mother hasn’t bothered to move them either.

Tonight, you help your mother make katsu curry. A staple in many households; also, the first dish you learned how to make.

You can feel your mother’s nerves as today is the day where you are officially meeting the man she is seeing (whom she had once mentioned as her new colleague over a year ago). He seemed like a normal, stand up man, but you can tell she likes him, so you don’t disapprove of him.

To calm her down (as well as your own excitement and nervousness), the two of you make small talk as you cook.

“Did you love him?” 

You immediately stiffen, the knife stops just above the fresh carrots from your mother’s garden, and you don’t press down. She doesn’t say who, but you already know who she is referring to. Your heart aches without the mention of his name. A boy who isn’t your fiancé. Your soon-to-be husband. “Did you love that boy from back then?”

Your face shines in the knife, the glare of the light above makes your reflection disappear. You force yourself to focus, continuing to cutting the carrot into chunks. The sound of the knife hitting against the cutting board echoes in your ears. “Why are you mentioning that? Why are you curious about it now? It’s been too long since then.”

“I used to think you would end up marrying him in the future.”

The sentence has you turning around in surprise. You harshly swallow, forcing a short laugh. Your heart clogs your throat. Emotions twisting like ebbing waves. “You never even liked him,” your voice doesn’t sound less tense.

“Maybe I didn’t, but you did.” Her expression says nothing — no hatred, regret, or sadness; she is only looking at you so clearly — right through to your leaking heart. All you wish is to run and hide from that all-knowing gaze of hers, you wish you never turned around. “For some people, they are only capable of loving one person their entire life. There’s a saying that nobody forgets about their first loves and for those people, sometimes their first love lasts forever.”

Some people, she says. By this, she means you.

The ring that sits prettily on your finger feels too heavy, squeezing your finger.

“. . . That already ended so long ago,” softly, you say.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tense atmosphere. There’s an exchange of looks — her expression soft as she offers a small smile of condolence.

The man – Mr. Hajime – arrives earlier than expected. You follow behind your mother as she opens the door and you see bright red roses before you see him. Your mother’s cheeks turn red as she bashfully smiles while accepting the bouquet.

He enters the home and when you meet his eyes, you smile and nod in acknowledgment. Mr. Hajime stops in front of you, pulling out a bouquet with a variety of flowers; of blues and whites.

“Thank you,” you say as he places the flowers in your hand.

His smile is awfully gentle. His eyes match that gentleness, too. An old, loving soul. “No, I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to finally meet you. Your mother often talks about you.”

You smile as a reply.

You wish to know what she has said. And maybe you will ask him another time, you know you will. There’s no doubt you will be meeting him again and again.

Mr. Hajime moves with familiarity in the house as if he has been here many times before (you wouldn’t doubt if he has). He makes his way to the dining room as he turns on an old song on your grandfather’s beloved record player. You don’t know the title, but you remember hearing it play many times back when you were a kid. It sounds so nostalgic. 

As the three of you eat dinner, a younger image of your mother and you eating in silence overlap, and the bittersweet feeling at how much your mother has grown begins to hit you. Despite her fading black hair and the grays that replace them, and the barely noticeable wrinkles around her eyes; the look in her eyes seems younger — happier. 

You’ve never seen her like this before. Her heart races for her — her love for Mr. Hajime and the happiness he brings to her. You’re happy for her, you really are.

This street and this house bring back so many memories; memories of times that will never come again and new ones are being created. And even more in the future.

Nostalgia continues to devour you. Your heart is aching in many different ways.

—

A year passes by, you don’t hear from Rindō or Ran after a few weeks of sending letters back and forth, and occasional phone calls made on your house line when your mother works overtime on Saturday nights.

Ran had warned you beforehand that he doesn’t do handwritten letters or phone calls or emails [whatever that means], you think he may just not want to talk to you, and strangely, you don’t take much offence in it. Like Rindō has always said, Ran is Ran, he does things his own way. Plus, you had already assumed you would hear updates on Ran from Rindō, however your assumption turns out to be wrong.

Tons of calls and letters left unanswered. You send another one, your final letter to him.

2002 年 4月 22日

Hi Rindō,

I know it’s been a while since my last letter and I haven’t received one back from you either. I make sure to check the mailbox twice a week! I really will be upset if you don’t reply or call me this time for real.

The new year started recently and I’m being forced to join a club this time. Kaa-san is still busy with work, and she comes home exhausted, so I decided to join the culinary club. Coming home to a cooked meal is something everyone likes, right? I am not really confident in my cooking skills though. . .

I miss you and Ran a lot. It’s lonely here without you guys. I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I won’t forgive you if you did. Write to me soon, okay? I want to know what you have been up to.

And it’s no shocker when there’s no response to it.

Your initial bitterness eventually fades into nothing but nostalgia.

As the years go on, you forget all about the Haitani brothers and Roppongi. Their faces become more and more blurred with each passing month. You must’ve been erased from their memory — a little childhood memory too dazed to remember.

Junior high is harder than it seems — making friends doesn’t come easy, you spend the majority of your time alone. But ever since you joined the culinary club in your second year, everyone there is friendly and supportive, and things begin to change. School becomes a little more fun, and sometimes, you don’t mind waking up so early in the morning.

You find yourself trapped in the middle of a circle. All eyes on you. Ones full of anticipation.

And of course, this could only be one thing — gossiping. They talk about love stories, first kisses, and boys. Unfortunately, the target today is none other than you.

“No, I don’t have a crush on anyone," you firmly state. It’s the third time this week you've been asked this question, you don’t understand why everyone is so curious.

“Ehh, don’t lie!” Sachiko playfully nudges you with a giggle. Eyes piercing into yours, and you inaudibly sigh at her skepticism. You don’t budge when she continues to push and she pouts. “Fine, fine. What about Naoki-kun from the baseball team?”

A chorus of ‘Ahh’s’ and giggles erupt in the room. A telling sign of the boy’s popularity. Even someone like you, who doesn’t care much about boys [yet] knows about him. From what you heard, he spends most of his time practicing baseball and he only dated one girl during his first year for only a week. He’s more serious than he seems, yet he gets along with everyone, parents and teachers included.

He’s good-looking. You aren’t blind, you know this much, but you don’t think you like short hair so much — even if Naoki-kun’s short hair suits him quite well. Still, you end up timidly agreeing with your club members, wishing to get this over with. “Mhm, I think Naoki-kun is kinda cute . . .” 

"Oh my gosh . . .”

“Ah, I knew it,” someone says. “I mean, most girls like him, so it’s obvious, right?"

You never said anything about liking Naoki-kun in a romantic way, you just said he was kinda cute (you guess). You just shrug and the topic moves onto how a student in the grade below you had caught the new teacher from class 2-b and the principal on a date. Your married principal. A classic love affair. The rumour echoes down the streets in the town, forever spiralling.

And in the early morning of May, 2003, your mother enters the house again and you think she may have forgotten something before heading off to work. Instead, she tosses a letter on the kitchen table. She says it’s for you. It’s plain. A white envelope with no decorations — you immediately know it’s not from one of your friends from school and your heart races in anticipation even before you grab it. You flip it over to see if it says who it’s from.

And it does. It’s a letter sent from Roppongi — a letter from Haitani Rindō.

Time slows and your heart beats loudly in your ears. The wind leading into summer suddenly doesn’t feel so slow; the morning birds chirp in tune of your heartbeat.

It was already the end of June, you blow out your candles. Another June goes by and you graduate from junior high.

—

You are sixteen when you meet Rindō and Ran again. 

They surprise you at the train station, and when you see them, you don’t recognise them at all. It feels like you don’t know who they are. They’re suddenly a lot taller, more mature with matching tattoos and dyed hair that you don’t see people your age with — and to their defence, they have always had dyed hair back when you first met. There’s an intimidating air to them which draws you in. An edge you should look out for. One step and you will fall.

Your grandfather has also changed — barely, but you can see he looks a little smaller than you remember him to be. Older, too. There’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth — ones due to his permanent frown. Yet his eyes feel warm, they soften when he looks at you.

Ran doesn’t really hang out nor talk to you anymore. During your trip there, he spends most days out and sometimes Rindō tags along with him, in which you stay at home with your grandfather or go shopping. And when you first caught them with bruises on their faces and torn skin on their knuckles, you cried. Catching them two and three more times didn’t make it any better.

You knew from first glance that Rindō and Ran are what people call delinquents, you aren’t blind when faced with the obvious. It feels strange seeing your childhood friends like this — the violence indulge in.

(You couldn’t believe it when you first learned the reason as to why you haven’t heard from Rindō in a long, long time. It’s still hard to believe, but when you see them like this, you can’t refuse it.)

It gradually builds into a routine, always finding yourself in the Haitani home while their mother is away at work. Forcing Rindō down onto his bed as you clumsily clean up his wounds, shaky, and unable to look away. Fretting over the way they’ve been hurt like a mother to her children (this is how their own mother probably feels coming home to be greeted by bruised faces). A burned cd of his favourite songs plays in the background. Quietly, because you’re both afraid of Ran waking up.

“Stop looking at me like that.” His tone is anything, but harsh. His sigh is heavy, yet soft. “You gotta stop worrying at this point. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

You immediately frown as you glare up at him. “I worry because you don’t.”

“You know it’s not as bad as it looks. Can barely feel a thing. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.”

You quickly retort, “It is . . . Why do you keep saying that? Every time I see you, you are injured. That’s not normal.” Growing more frustrated at his lack of self-care, you softly glare at his tattered hand. You mumble, “What are you and your brother even up to?” More so to you, than to Rindō.

However, he hears you. He laughs, more rather airy than his usual boastful one. “Aren’t you too nice?”

“No, I’m not,” you mutter. “Something like this is normal.”

“I guess that means my world isn’t so normal. I don’t know anyone else like you.”

Those pretty amethyst eyes draw you in. You shake your head, replying, “You will meet others like me. Caring about someone who is hurt is nothing special. It’s . . . it’s human to do so.” You hold his hand carefully in yours, inspecting the cloth to make sure it’s securely wrapped. Thumb brushing over the fabric.

“There’s only you.” 

The room falls silent. The track slowly fades into the next. Your heart races.

Rindō coughs into his sleeve. “Um, I meant that I only know you. The guys I know aren’t really like that at all.”

It may be your mind playing tricks on you. The way he looks and sounds — his every gesture feels too tender to be Rindō. It’s odd, not him. Your eyes must be playing tricks on you too because the look in Rindō’s eyes seems too gentle and intimate. You look away.

“You have Ran, who cares about you a lot,” you point out, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He quietly chuckles, “Yeah. That’s just Ran though. You know how he is.”

You vaguely reply, “I guess so.”

“You know so.”

“Everyone knows so,” you softly add, “just take of yourself more. Please.”

You lift your eyes for a split second, and he meets you within it. Rindō softly smiles, “Okay. I will, so you won’t cry anymore.”

You can’t look at him for too long without feeling your face flush, it gets too hot, and the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies that invade your stomach, pooling, itching to explode whenever he smiles at you. He makes you so nervous and you don’t know how to react. You’ve never felt this type of nervousness with someone before.

“I don’t cry.”

“I sure hope you won’t.”

You don’t know how to act.

That night, once Ran awakens from his nap, the three of you decide to hang outside. Roppongi is not similar to the countryside in any shape or form and you’re no longer surprised to see the city awake during these late nights. This city is always brighter after midnight.

Rindō had run off to the nearest konbini for drinks due to him losing three rounds of rock-paper-scissors [really, who actually chooses rock], and you and Ran are squatting down by the riverbank with sparklers burning in your hands. Rindō will probably be annoyed that the two of you started without him the second he ran off, but it’s Ran fault if anything. He’s the one who made you grab the sparklers and lit them himself.

However, Rindō wouldn’t be surprised by this, because everyone knows how impatient Ran can be at times.

“Y’know, on summer nights like this, the main character and her love interest would light sparklers together—” Ran begins to say with his sparkler dangles above yours, burning so fast and bright, “—and they will become stuck together. It stays like that, and that is usually when something in their relationship changes. . . I saw it in a shōjo anime before.” He pulls the end of his sparkler before his and yours get the chance to become tangled, and smiles softly at you. Ran looks pretty — prettier than most celebrities you see on television and magazine covers. He’s probably popular with girls.

And you assume, Rindō, too. He’s definitely no less popular than his brother. This thought immediately makes everything feel sour, your smile falters and you look back down at the sparklers. A pile of ash building below. The flames are bright, rushing into your eyes and leaves your head dizzy.

It’s quite beautiful; the way sparks flicker and dimming ashes fall around you. Vanishing within moments it hits the ground.

“You learned that from a shōjo anime?”

He replies with a shrug. “I mean, yeah. It’s a popular trope these days. I know you girls are into those types of things. Quite romantic, hm?” 

You nod and don’t try to hide your smile. You didn’t think Ran was into anime like that. You didn’t know he was a romantic type of guy.

“Don’t laugh,” Ran scoffs. “You’ve become quite rude, huh.”

“I’m not! I just thought it was cute,” you huff in defense.

“Uh-huh.”

He rolls his eyes in which you mockingly repeat back, and you both laugh.

So, Ran is a little different these days. He’s all grown, almost unrecognisably so. But he is still your friend — there is still the Ran you knew back then there inside of him. And you think, he and Rindō could probably say the same about you. Change is inevitable, it comes hand-in-hand with growing up.

“So, this is something you do with someone you love. . .” you mutter his words to yourself. “Why aren’t you doing it with someone you love—well, uh, have you?”

It’s silent. A croak of a frog, a call of a cicada. His answer lies in his silence and it’s sad to hear, because beneath everything, Ran is someone with lots of love to give. It’s unfortunate how he’s never once liked to wear his heart on his sleeve, hidden away deep in a metal cage. He is a nice guy, really. So sweet to Rindō — sometimes towards you.

Ran shakes his head, redirecting the conversation to you. Something he always seems to do. “Why aren’t you?”

You . . . ?

Attentive with the eyes of a hawk, Ran picks up on your confusion within seconds. He tells you not to mind his words which only makes you feel more lost — heart racing. You think Ran knows something, but you do not know what. The unknown is always terrifying and you want to know.

Ran wants an answer that you cannot provide. Beginning to feel warm underneath your thin clothes, you grow anxious under his heavy stare, yet can’t find it in yourself to look away.

His eyes drift for a second and light from the sparklers fall in. He looks back at you, then cocks his head in the opposite direction. Curious, you follow his line of sight — Rindō.

Immediately, you take this opportunity to run. You hand the remains of your incense stick to Ran as you jump up, dusting off the dirt and ash that may have gotten on your clothes. Running up the stone steps, meeting him halfway (you pay no mind to Ran who yells that you got dirt on him). Your shadows reach before your bodies do, overlapping underneath the flickering lamp post. 

“Rindō! Why’d you take so long?” You ask while leaning in, folding your hands behind your back. His blond locks are messy and sticking to his forehead instead of styled in his usual fashion, red cheeks and his chest is raising up and down as he breathes. “Did’ya run here? You’re looking a little red . . .”

He lets out an exasperated sigh, visibly annoyed with a prominent scowl on his face. “This idiot in front of me was taking his sweet fuckin’ time,” he replies, his glasses shift down his nose bridge and you reach your hand up to fix it. However, before you can, he grabs your wrist (a sudden yet gentle gesture) completely stopping you.

You awkwardly mutter, “Um. Sorry . . . ?” 

Rindō blinks before letting go of your hand, shaking his head. “Ah, no,” he clears his throat, “I got it. Thanks.”

Opening the plastic bag, he holds a bottle of ramune towards you. The little spot he touched burns, and it’s then when Rindō asks you what’s wrong because you had suddenly froze in your movements. “Did you want a different flavour? I think I saw a strawberry one left,” he offers, “or you can take my drink. It’s beer, though. You don’t drink, right?”

“No, no. I like it. I prefer the original one,” you decline as you take the drink from his hand. Fingers brushing against his cold ones. “Thanks, Rin.”

“I do, too. It’s my favourite.”

His favourite, yet he had replaced it for some cheap canned alcohol — he and Ran aren’t even old enough to drink, but you don’t really care, either. Things like that strangely suit them.

You bite your tongue when you almost reply, I know. However, you do respond with a brief, “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a necessity on summer days, y’know?”

You can’t help, but agree. “That’s why I like it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

And you wonder if Rindō remembers everything that happened the summer the both of you first met — you do. Those summer days spent underneath the shade side by side sharing melting popsicles and ramune, running around Roppongi and challenging each other at the arcade games. Aiding new cuts and bruises that appear on the brother’s bodies, Rindō would place a bandaid on your hands and knees every time you had fallen down trying to catch up to them, and whispering secrets only meant for the two of you to know [ones Ran comes to know, unsurprisingly]. You miss those summer days, and you don’t want to see the end of this one too.

Days with the Haitani brothers are unforgettable — so special, a feeling nothing can replace. Your hometown has never once felt like this.

Nobody has made you feel this way before.

You bring the ramune to your mouth, sweetness dissolves on your tongue, your lips tingle, and your heart burns and burns and burns.

—Bang!

A sudden sharp noise causes you to jump, droplets of your drink splash onto your thin shirt and down your chest. The culprit is none other than Rindō, who had bought firecrackers along with the drinks — setting it off a little too close to him and Ran, bursting right beneath their feet. Rindō laughs uproariously due to your surprised expression — so loud and clear, it cuts through the cicadas’ callings, passing cars, and the booming of firecrackers. His smile is like the warmth of summer; brighter than sparklers and the sea of little stars above. Your cheeks heat up, and all you can see is him.

At this moment, it’s two a.m. at the end of July when everything hits you like a huge tidal wave. Oh. You understand it now. 

This feeling burns into you.

Everything feels like summer.

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map pt. 20

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you feel overwhelmingly concerned with Calibani's well-being. Even as you're pulled in three other directions, the drive to go to check on her is stronger than all of them combined. A good 38% or so of your mind asks you whether you might be getting too attached to this woman-who's-actually-a-monster that you've only known for, what, two days or so? It adds that you should be careful since you've been alone for a while. You're vulnerable, you need to take care of yourself.

You tell that part of your mind to fuck off. Well over half of you thinks it's full of shit anyway.

You find your sea-monster predator-turned-friend? leaning against the side of your boat and resting her face on her hand, her eyes scanning the horizon with a troubled expression on her face. Immediately you feel your concern is justified, and you don't even hide the haste in your step as you close the distance between the two of you. "Calibani, what's wrong?"

Her eyes go wide when she hears your voice, and she hastily puts on a big smile as she turns to face you, though you notice it doesn't reach her eyes. "Oh, nothing, Sailor!" she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just tired, is all! Fighting that gloppy monster took a lot out of me!" She smiles again, bigger and more visibly forced this time, and says. "What about you? It's can't be fun for you dealing with all these..." Her smile falters for a fraction of a second. "These monsters trying to eat you..."

It's a deflection, and not even a very good one, but you worry if you call her on that it'll scare her into withdrawing further. "It's been harrowing," you say as you keep your gaze locked on her face. "But I imagine it's worse for you, since you're a lot more vulnerable now than you used to be."

Calibani frowns briefly, her eyes big and just a little watery, but she quickly plasters a smile back on. "Oh, I've never been the biggest fish in the pond," she laughs. "It's not the first time something's hunted me, and it won't be the last. At least I have a new weapon to defend myself with." She looks at her stork-headed spear, and her smile finally becomes genuine again. "Thank you for making it, by the way."

Now you get to wave dismissively. "Please, you're the one who made it useful. I think you did as much damage to that thing as the boat."

Calibani's smile grows wider as her eyes flicker with worry again. "Yeah, I hurt it pretty bad," she says with clearly feigned enthusiasm, and again tries to change the topic. "It was so clever of you to hit it with your boat. What a finishing move!"

"Well, it worked for me bef..." you stop mid-sentence as you realize that Calibani knows exactly when you last hit a monster with your boat, and that it's likely a bit of a traumatic memory for her. But there's really no way to end that sentence differently, and so you just whisper out, "...fore..." as an awkward silence falls between you. As both of you stand there quietly not making eye contact, your eyes fall upon her tail, which once again hangs over the side of the ship.

"You're tail's hanging off the side of the ship," you say, stating the obvious.

Calibani looks at it. "Yeah, it is," she says quietly.

"Aren't you worried something will grab it again?"

She shakes her head, and her big mane oh hair attached to it wiggles with the motion. "The water feels so good on my scales and fin," she explains. "I think the time spent enjoying that will outweigh any time spent getting grabbed or bitten, so it's worth the risk. Besides, if something grabs my tail, I can warn you that trouble is coming, so we'll be better off in the end anyway."

You decide not to argue with her logic. "Well, let me know if you need anything," you suggest, unsure of what else to say at the moment.

"Will do, sweetness!" she replies with a bright, fake smile.

With a nod, you leave her to her thoughts, deciding to wait and see if maybe she'll open up later. It's time to focus on the second task at hand, anyway, the whole reason you came here: you need to search these boats.

It's slow, methodical work, and at first it doesn't yield much for all the labor involved. All the wrecked and capsized ships are a bust, their contents either lost to the sea or so water-damaged they're basically useless. The boats that are right-side up provide a bit more - some non-perishable or at least not rotten food here (and, to Calibani's assured delight, some salt, pepper, garlic, and paprika), a few useful tools there, even some clothes that you decide to pocket in hopes of adding to your wardrobe (and, notably, a few more sweaters that seem like they might fit Calibani, though a couple might need to be stretched out a bit first).

In one boat, however, you find something truly interesting. It seems rather bland at first - a briefcase, kind of fancy but not something that seems promising at a glance, with a logo on its side that seems vaguely familiar to you: Spindle Inc.

The name sounds familiar, and you wrack your brain about where you heard it before. Isn't Spindle one of those big tech companies, the ones that make a shitload of money but no one's quite sure what the hell they actually do or sell? You realize this is one of the few specific memories of your life before the Sea that you can recall, and try to see if you can remember more details, but nothing comes to mind.

There's a lock on the briefcase, but luckily for you the former owner didn't remember to lock it. You decide to open it up, just to see if anything inside might further jog your spotty and unreliable memory.

Inside, you spot several documents, with the one on top reading, "Field Agent's Guide to the Sea of Monsters." Most of it uses jargon you can't begin to comprehend, but as you pour over it you come across some notes jotted in the margins.

"It's no use, the only way home is under." "Need a deep sea vessel." "North, South, East, West. Where did it come from?" "Can't risk going back to the lab, they won't let me go." "FIND DR. NEPTUNE." - underlined "Where is Neptune's base? Clues scant." "Captain Peter = only person who knows where Neptune is. Find him beyond the boat graveyard. We're close. I'm close. We're going home."

It's scattered and strange, but you think you get a sense of what this person was looking for. Someone named Dr. Neptune, who you can only find by meeting someone named Captain Peter, who is "beyond the boat graveyard," which you can guess from context is where you are right now. Seems your next destination is... well, ok, not really set, but you know where to go looking next, and that's something, dammit!

Of course, looking requires sailing, and that reminds you that you should probably check on your boat. It's been running well enough, but you've had collisions with two large creatures in about as many days, more or less, so it's good to give things a looksee.

Most things seem in order - no leaks, no dents, no strange noises from your engine (because you're not even sure this boat has an engine, much less where it is or what noises it should make, since the damn thing has always been eerily quiet). Only one thing seems out of place.

There's a... stain? you think? on the front of your boat, a jagged red stain that looks eerily like a mouth. It must be the globster's blood, you tell yourself, except wasn't the globster's blood more of a, like, melonoma black sort of color, that putrescent shade of black that's got other colors mixed in like a mess of spilled paint? And it was chunky when it came out, so how is it smeared so neat and smoothly.

Unless... maybe it's paint? Yeah, that's it, it's paint! How could you forget the cute little shark smile that was painted on your boat, that sharp-toothed painted on grin it's always had as long as you've known it? Of course that smile's always been there, it's probably the reason you picked this boat in the first place whenever... whenever you found it, or bought it, probably? Who wouldn't want the goofy grinning shark boat?

Regardless, nothing is wrong with your boat, as it's in perfectly ship shape. You've got a heading, you've got a working ship, and you've defeated a hideous monster that wanted to eat you and, perhaps worst of all, seemed to be British. If anything calls for celebration, this is it. Going below deck, you break out one of your rarest treasures: a bottle of red wine you found, unopened and of, well, a vintage you hope is good (you don't know shit about wine, you're not Donald Pleasance). It's time to break out the salted meat, cook some of those potatoes you found among the ships, and make a night of it!

You go below deck and make as decent a meal as your conditions with allow, then invite Calibani to eat with you. The two of you share the best meal you've cooked yet, and while the little "ooo's" and "mmm's" Calibani makes while eating show she enjoys the food, you can't help noticing she still looks awfully troubled.

"Did you notice?" you say as you finish your meal. "That it tastes different, I mean."

She nods. "It's good," she says quietly.

"That's cause I found some spices," you say proudly, hoping for a big reaction. But while Calibani smiles, it once again fails to reach her eyes. "Did I oversell how good spices are?" you ask.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she says. "It's really good, best I've had, honest, but..." She looks down at the floor and sighs. "Do you... hate me?"

You stare blankly at her, completely dumbstruck by that question. "What?"

Panic flares behind Calibani's eyes as she throws up her hands and animatedly explains, "It's just that you've been attacked by monsters that want to kill you three days in a row and one of them was me! And the other two are dead - I killed one, we killed the other together, and - and I just don't get it, because you didn't kill me when you could have, and I'm just worried..." She stops her ranting to catch her breath. "I'm worried that you don't like killing and that I've forced you to do it and you hate me for it, or that you hate those creatures for trying to kill you and that means you hate me because I tried to kill you, and I never thought of killing as a personal thing before but now that you put the thought in my mind it's all I'm thinking about and I feel terrible about everything and just - just - do you hate me?"

"Uh... wow," is all you manage to say.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says quickly, "I didn't mean - oh no, you do hate me, don't you?"

"No, no!" you say just as quickly, your hand instinctively touching your compass. "In fact, I'd go so far to say that my mind keeps being pulled in a direction that likes you quite a lot."

She cocks her head at you and squints, confused by your phrasing despite understanding the jist of it. "Um... well, I mean... why though? I tried to kill you, just like that bird and the... the globster thing we just killed." She looks thoughtfully at the floor. "What makes me different? Why did you spare me?"

That's... actually hard to answer. So, as you do with all hard choices, you consult your compass.

[chaifootsteps]

I noticed that since Welcome Home blow up in popular, a lot of people started or trying to create their own puppet based projects. Which is cool, don’t get me wrong. But most of the ones I’ve seen feel like they’re trying to replicate WH too much and not really taking much inspiration from multiple different sources other than that to make their work stand out amongst the many others doing the same and following the same format as WH.

They’re all doing the same premise of “They’re all about a lost children’s puppet show from the 70/80s that were suddenly cancelled due to mysterious circumstances but no one knows why.” But there’s nothing different that add else to them.

There’s three puppet projects that are doing something completely different and interesting concepts I have seen, tho that makes them stand out from the others, tho.

Sorry if I ranted, just something I noticed a lot.

Just Call me WH Anon.

Good on those three projects that are doing their own thing! Also, just curious, has anyone done a puppet project with...you know, actual puppets?

[dcviated]

"I dunno, you gave me a run for my money at the arcade back when, didn't you?" A brow lifted at her words as the princess comments on her future spouse's ... accessories. Yes, she may have jewelry but Wylan gained confidence through. Other things. "Calling a 1911 a piece of artillery is being a little dramatic, I think. But having guns at all- yeah, I'm not going to deny maybe it was a bit much. The nine millimeter here was just a uh. Backup. In case something else..."

The more he thinks of trying to explain himself, the more Wylan realizes this is rather silly. Not so much bringing the weapons (you're good there champ) but convincing Sonia of the what's or why's of it. Or maybe he was excessive? Was he thinking excessively?

"I'm happy. Happier than I am disappointed that I didn't need to use them. Either way." All roads lead to that fact. A good way to cap of the idea before he starts getting defensive or something of that sort. Sonia was only teasing after all, flirting with various boundaries now that she had the open field to do so. Wylan smiles, realizing the same could be applying to him right now were it not an existential brew of crisis and realization.

Stewing in that happiness is a decent way to... waste time, he realizes. Basking in the afterglow not of sex (for once), but the way her words had made him felt was. Different. Nice. Appreciated. There's no longer a need to rationalize reasons not to like it, nor is there a need to leap from the window. It'd ruin his clothes, anyway.

"Heh. Yeah. There's been a lot of denial between us for awhile, hasn't there? I don't want to judge my past self too harshly but I think I'd be lying if I said there wasn't times before I ... well. Loved you. Really really enjoyed your presence." And now basking in the intimacy of watching her apply makeup and dress, enjoy her all the more.

Tongue glides over lips.

"So."

Wylan was back onto his feet, personal items put into their favored pockets and the coils of his inner springs preparing to add that spring into his step.

"Is this our first date?" He ponders. "I feel like we could call so many other things we got up to as dates, adding in the hindsight we have now as guy and gal." Comes the punctuation, an arm hooking around to take hers, and pulling the woman up to his side with both their preparations concluded. Door to the greater part of the suite thrown open so the two might venture forth.

If a living area that was decidedly more basic, more 'common,' would bring Wylan any amount of happiness, Sonia would stop at nothing to incorporate it into their lives. It wasn't something she usually cared to do, throw money around for the sake of it the way some members of her family did. But if it brought joy or relieved a burden for someone else, she was far less likely to hesitate.

'What would make him happy?' She'd thought briefly in-between all of the other concerns that occupied her mind. Most of which involved keeping her family away for as long as possible, or until she could gently massage the situation in that she was in love and, frankly, had been for ages, longer than she wanted to admit. What worried her, beyond her family and the public and the press eviscerating him, was that she didn't have a clear answer to that question.

To a degree, of course, she surmised it was being in her company and loved by her. But placing one's entire source of happiness in a single person was a burden too heavy for anyone to bear, even a future queen. And asking him directly felt intrusive: he'd show her, she supposed, in his own way. In the meantime, she would help him feel welcome and wanted: it was likely few others, if any, would. "The monsters appear only for very select people under very select circumstances," She replied cheekily, though her current appearance might be monstrous to some: hair wet, no makeup, face still pink from the shower and from how she'd patted serum and moisturizer into her skin. She was so used to being seen without a hair out of place and yet he didn't seem to mind it, Sonia so disheveled, decidedly un-royal, human. Taking a deep breath she smiled at him, her anxiety beginning to fade and transitioning into excitement instead. For a day without royal responsibilities, for a day just to spend with him.

Forget the bathroom, that was the real luxury.

"Not smelling of sex and being in possession of a variety of weapons certainly do provide a sense of comfort, yes," She remarked, setting down the comb she'd been using to tend to her hair before getting up from the vanity, striding over to him to peer over his shoulder. "That is quite an assortment of artillery! I imagine you prefer to be prepared for any possible outcome, though I hope visiting me would not require the use of a gun. You are a better shot than I am, anyway." And she'd had a considerable amount of practice and wasn't too shabby in that area herself. But Wylan was a professional, she couldn't compete with that.

"But mostly? I am just...happy," She said, opening the door to her closet before rummaging through it, seeking a more appropriate outfit than the decidedly demure, prim look her staff had laid out for her. Sonia didn't mind the demureness of it, but the fact it still seemed to radiate 'princess' in its brightly-colored blazer and trousers with coordinating silk blouse was what she objected to. Could she just be Sonia Nevermind, a woman in love and Wylan Rectur's girlfriend for a little while, before adding the crown back to it? She'd juggle both soon enough, a break couldn't hurt. "I am happy that you are here and you want to be here. And I am happy that I no longer am trying to lie to myself, and everyone else, that I've moved on with my life and left all affection I have for you in the past. It was exhausting, pretending that I wasn't hurt anymore, that I was ready to try to open my heart again to someone else. Showing weakness is not generally approved of here."

While he opted for something less...assassin-y, she too chose something her mother had expressly forbidden her to wear for royal events: a long-sleeved wool dress in a navy houndstooth print, with a modest neckline and a hemline that ended mid-thigh. It was the amount of leg that was deemed scandalous, even if she'd paired it with matching tights and shoes. "You know, I hadn't thought of our first date being a clothes shopping venture," She remarked, chuckling as she watched him listen near the door. "But I suppose it makes sense. I know just the place."

She figured fussing over premier designer attire was an event neither of them wanted to devote the day to. Not to mention, it would be a visit from a proper tailor in his future anyway: men's suits in her family were bespoke. Still, he needed something to wear: going around naked wasn't an option, though she briefly flirted with that thought. Even though her lightly-applied makeup, a blush managed to creep through. "It'll be a short walk to the Galeries Lafayette, but we can get a good cup of coffee there too. Or so I've been told: I tend to choose something else when visiting. Shall we?"

Even if her security would likely follow in tow in a nondescript car, she wanted to maintain some level of independence that day. Besides: visiting an actual department store felt much more normal than being tucked away in a boutique.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Modern AU where Eddie is a tech repair person at an apple store in Chicago while he tries to make it big with his band and Steve is a spoiled rich kid who is trying to cover up that he's been using his macbook to film for his OnlyFans or something similar and he needs that shit wiped.

Eddie is as professional as he can be, but can't help but be amused at Steve being worried that he's gonna see everything.

S: seriously, just wipe everything. nothing has to be saved. don't even look through each file. just start over. E: okay sure. but you know you could just buy a new laptop. S: my dad checks my credit card statements. E: okay, so tell him you bought it for a friend or something. S: just. can you wipe it? E: yeah i can.

Eddie doesn't let him know that he already has seen everything because of course he subscribes to S.H. and often leaves him bigger tips than he can afford. He doesn't even know why Steve does it since he's apparently rich, or his dad is.

It only takes a few hours to wipe it, and Eddie's grateful he managed to help Steve instead of his coworker who is a certified Creep ™️ who absolutely would have made sure to watch as many of the videos as he could first.

He calls Steve and leaves a message for him that it's done, but doesn't hear back and Steve doesn't come by. He does the same thing again the next day, and the day after that, starting to grow concerned.

He goes so far as to check Steve's OF page, just to see if there's an update, but sees it's been shut down, like it never existed.

He finally caves, does the most unprofessional thing he's ever done, and texts Steve's number from his own phone.

This is Eddie from the apple store. Your laptop's ready. Just want you to know after 30 days we usually get rid of unclaimed items.

There's no response.

But two days later, Steve comes into the store wearing sunglasses and a hat, clearly trying to hide.

When he takes off the sunglasses to sign everything, Eddie sees a healing black eye and swollen nose.

He isn't stupid.

And he suddenly feels extremely protective over him.

E: did your dad find out? S: find out what? E: about your online job? S: how do you know? E: I wasn't gonna say anything, and I swear everything got wiped without anyone including myself seeing, but I do subscribe to you and I recognized you when you came in. S, already having a panic attack: shit no. this is bad. okay you can't say anything about this to anyone. please. E: I wouldn't, I won't. but your dad found out didn't he? he did this to you? S: *nods* E: you safe now? S: *shrugs* E: need a place to stay? S: i've been saving. that's why i did this in the first place. so i can pay rent somewhere. E: I have a second bedroom at my place that just opened up. up to you.

And of course Steve takes it because he's desperate, and doesn't have real world experience with a lot of strangers, but has a good feeling about this.

Eddie finds that Steve is a very typical rich kid; ignorant to a lot of the world's struggles, but not an asshole despite his bitchy attitude sometimes coming out, thinks money can fix everything until Eddie shows him that apologies and a cuddle on the couch can be better.

Steve is so touch starved, he doesn't even realize the way he always folds into Eddie's side when they're just relaxing and watching a movie, or how he always lets his hand brush against his side or hand when Eddie gets home from work. Eddie helps him look for a job, and they find that he loves working at a daycare even though the money isn't that great.

They fall in love so easily, neither of them actually realize it happens until Steve comes home after a very long day before the Christmas holidays, covered in paint stains from crafts with the kids, and Eddie just welcomes him home with a kiss.

[sskk-manifesto]

Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh