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cheriden · 21 days

Text

「 yours to claim 」。。。

"A bond supposedly as thick as blood. Together, they shaped what would become of their dynasty out of rubble and poverty. A rite so sacred and ancient it brings out envy from outsiders who wish to share the same oath. A vow so sanctified, it rivaled that of marriage."

── synopsis 。Your presumably fated familiar is averse to your relationship dynamic, and makes an all-out effort to convey so.

pairing 。cat hybrid!taehyun × novice mage!reader

.ᐟ genre 。fantasy, (somewhat) angst, smut

.ᐟ tags 。forced proximity, enemies to lovers, dubcon kind of, forced proximity, (one-sided) enemies to lovers, hybrid au, master/servant dynamics, unintentional drugging, heat sex (kind of), dubcon (kind of), a bit of bloodplay (smearing, licking), use of leash, dirty talk, praising, sub!idol, handjob, orgasm denial, blowjob, cunnilingus, riding, missionary, pet names and etc (pretty, kitty, noona) au, master/servant dynamics

.ᐟ status & word count 。oneshot | 10.7k

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。i'm a stupid bitch who deleted the original again. reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns, sorry this took so long college started and i want to be in the dls :b !! this was actually done two weeks ago but i could not for the life of me write a smut scene so im just gonna post this now! sry its dumb and not proofread

You stand in the center of the colosseum, the moon round and at its peak with the wind howling violently. Taking a deep exhale, you stand up to the podium and dip the customary wand in a pot filled to the brim with some sort of luminescent concoction, chanting the rehearsed spell like a prayer in hopes that everything goes smoothly. Through squinted eyes, you take in the seats full of adults and youngins yet to commence in an identical rite—anticipation in their eyes as they watch the heir of the historic, most respectable coven known to man.

You gulp down a lump that expands in your throat, focusing on your low whispering and the chanting of the guardians around you. They position the orb you’ve brought, or rather, the orb your parents insist you choose. Deep inhales, and you move your staff to point at the sphere, remnants of a gilded soul swirling around within it. The wand shoots its beam, a path of pink glitter and dust hatched from pixies trailing it as it knocks the sphere into the air. It rattles, darting in all directions across the space. You shift to cast, but a palm on your shoulder forbids you from doing so.

Rays of white and amber escape through the cracks, blinding lights beaming through the arena. The creature breaks free from its holding, paws alight with a soft puff onto the rough concrete. It's more petite than the rest of the hatched familiars, about as big as your hand—large glossy eyes that mirror the hue of the sun. Its black fur reflects fragments of the moonlight, white sheen gracing its fluffy coat. You're awestruck, watching it circle you. Hesitantly, you reach out to it, inching your index closer to its snout. It stares at you momentarily, right before hissing sharply, scratching the back of your hand. You're thrown harshly onto the ground, flabbergasted as the rest of the audience watches in silence.

Your family has always been traditionalistic. For generations, the coven adhered to distinctly strict rules: The art and mannerisms in spellbinding and potion blending, the prerequisite liturgies for sacrifice, even the specificity of the bark and carvings on your staff. Though out of all of these customs, one shows itself more principal than the rest—one that must never change under any circumstance. A partnership that had begun since the dawn of your descendants’ upbringing, a sense of loyalty that is not to be broken.

The coven had strong ties with the Kang bloodline, stemming from an age-old friendship, a bond supposedly as thick as blood. A lineage full of feline anthropomorphic shifters that once are of age, devote themselves as companions, better known as familiars. Together, they shaped what would become of their dynasty out of rubble and poverty. A promise of knowledge, hunting, foraging, and camaraderie; in exchange for security. A rite so sacred and ancient it brings out envy from outsiders who wish to share the same oath. A vow so sanctified, it rivaled that of marriage.

You, on the other hand, beg to differ—grumbling as you watch your mother slap a healing rune onto your hand, a direct result from the earlier encounter with your own so-called familiar. The rest of your family sing you praises and congratulatory remarks, calling around to see if anyone has seen the black cat recently. Your father exclaims that you're lucky, rounding the corner of the sofa to face you. He takes a seat beside you; says that black cats are the purest and truest form for a familiar. If the orb you've chosen was an indicator, it must've been fate. You scorn and whine, and he all but dismisses your complaints when the doorbell rings, revealing his own “fated” companion. Once inside, he drags an infuriated boy into the room, nearly knocking him into the carpet as he’s forced to kneel at your feet.

"I apologize for him, he's been hard-headed and stubborn even before he got put in that globe." Instead of hiding himself from shame, he scowls, disdain painfully obvious on every surface in his body—he shakes from it. "This is Taehyun, he's a year younger than you. An expert at gathering, as well as cognitive thinking, especially in potion brewing." He scoffs, back straightening as he retorts, "I was 19 when you sealed me. I've been cramped in that stupid ball for nearly a decade." The older cat heeds no attention to his snark, continuing. "What's fascinating is he remembers the time he spent within the orb. Realistically, there is no drastic change in his body and mind; which is why he's being a pain right now. I do hope you excuse him." The older cat turns to the younger, “I do believe you owe the young master an apology. Fix the mess you’ve made.” Through no thanks of his own will, he takes your hand in his, bending over to lick a clean stripe over your wound. You jerk at the cold sensation, back strained off the seat. “Claimed familiars have healing properties,” The ginger hybrid clarifies, “blood, saliva, tears, anything.” The deathly glare the ravenette gives as he goes over the scratch with his tongue has you shivering, and you’re not really sure why.

He pulls away with his mouth pressed into a thin line, threatening demeanor faltering when a sound erupts from his stomach. It takes every muscle in you to stop yourself from smirking at his diminishing attitude, getting off the armchair. "I'll show you the kitchen. Have any cravings? Fish? Milk?" He’s left unamused. "Cake. Now."

Taehyun’s tail swishes in the air, paws submerged in frosting as he engorges down the slice of strawberry pound cake. “I like you better when you’re in cat form. You’re so adorable and small.” He attempts to claw your fingers when they reach out to stroke the underside of his chin; it lasts for less than a few seconds, but he purrs into your touch before jumping off the counter. You giggle at his obstinance, and out of spite, he morphs into his human state, telling you to shut up.

“Is this your way of thanking me? ‘Cause I learned how to bake a cake for this. Took me everything in the pantry for it.” He grumbles a small “not bad” and “thank you”, his ears and tail pop up—swaying silently as he finishes the cake with refined poise he lacked previously. “It’s also better because you can’t talk. But I also like it when you’re like this, you’re kind of anthropomorphic. You’re cute either way.” He flexes his biceps, trying to prove a point. “Is this cute?” With a small smile, you clear the table of crumbs and dishes. “Yeah. You still have icing on your face.” His confidence wavers, wiping the side of his mouth. “Get up, I’m gonna show you around the house, then we gotta head into town.”

He picks himself up, following behind. “To do what?” You feign innocence, shrugging; so sure he’d resist with all his might if you told him the specifics. “We have to meet with an elder. Mom said so. Probably gonna fit you for new clothes after.” In an attempt to divert his attention, you pull him into the second floor, dark purple wallpaper contrasting the whites and yellows of the old portraits and photos nailed against it. The dark oak creaks beneath your feet, and Taehyun is baffled by the state of the place.

It’s gloomy and old, hosting as little color as possible with run-down floorboards. You giggle at how little he does to hide how appalled he is, explaining. “Nobody really uses this floor but me,” You comment, nudging over to the door furthest from the hall, “That’s my room. Over there,” You point at the neighboring rooms, “Bathroom and potion den. The rest are just storage for books, inventory, or ritual stuff.” Reaching the end of the hallway, you open the door to your room and plop onto the bed. The disparity of your living quarters has the ravenette nearly blinded, bright pastel walls perpendicular to the equally bright, fuzzy carpet. The room is plastered with posters and knick knacks of all sorts, a few colorful vials with saturated flowers blossoming beside your window. Beside it is an uneven cabinet with chipped paint of stars and other squiggly shapes, a direct outcome of no doubt your own doing. He peeks to see it’s spacier on the inside, basically its own cubby with a sewing machine and rainbow-assorted frills and cloth. He counts puffy dresses, short skirts hemmed with lace, a few undergarments embellished with sheer tulle. You shut it hurriedly, “The family won’t let me wear all that outside the house—or outside my room. They think I’ve gotten rid of this hobby,” You sign with air quotes, “So it stays here. They’ll have my head if they find out.”

He shrugs, “I don’t really care.” Though his actions say otherwise, rifling through all the hangers. “Why don’t you just use magic on making these? More efficient.”

Lips pursed into a thin line, you answer. “It’s not as simple as waving a stick around, I don’t even have my own wand yet, not until I make something of myself. I haven’t really figured out what the elders mean by that.” You clasp your hands together, standing awkwardly near the doorframe. “So um, you can unpack and then we’ll head out.” He jumps out of the closet, facing you. “I’m staying here with you?” You eye him weirdly, “Yes. It is tradition for familiars and their masters to sleep in the same room.” He growls at the word “master”, picking his singular duffel bag off the floor. “No way. You have plenty of rooms you don’t use. Let me—” You cut him off by yanking the bag and tossing it onto the floor. “No. It’s essential for us to bond better.” He backs up slowly. “No way. I am not bonding with you.” You massage the bridge of your nose. “Our parents would throw a fit if they found out anyway.”

Taehyun contemplates his options, entering the room again with a defeated sigh. “Do we have to sleep on the same bed?”

Hoping the disgust on your face is evident, you reply. “Not willingly. The guardians wrongfully calculated the phase of the waxing gibbous, so we had to rush to have everything in time for the full moon. We’ll look for an old frame or buy a cat bed later in town, whichever you prefer.”

He stays silent, annoyance directed towards you as you shove past him aggressively. “My bed or a piece of cardboard on the floor. Your choice.”

Taehyun squirms in the robes you lent him, sensitive to the fabric as it clings onto his skin, hood high to avoid the light that shines directly into his eyes. His mother forced him to wear something of status, but he has no idea what that means when he’s just some rich girl’s pet. You're wearing the same robe but with the hood down, hair in pigtails as you skip through the streets greeting people. Despite his frustration, he peeks over your shopping scroll, scanning everything from top to bottom. “What are you making?” You hum, turning your head. “A bunch of orders from the neighboring city. Most of them don’t really have the mana to wield magic or bless potions.” He takes the list from you, inspecting it further. “We already shopped at the reptile place, did you forget to purchase snake venom?”

“It’s abhorrent that you believe I would forget buying such an integral part of our best-selling potion.” You reel at the assumption, walking faster. “Their supplier ran out, and I’d probably have to deal with a new merchant, if there are any left. It’s really scarce this season ‘round.” He’s annoyed at your annoyance, pacing beside you. “You should tell me these things. I’m supposed to aid in gathering.” You stop, mildly crossed at how he portrays it as if you were the one being unreasonable, the one at fault. “You don’t even want to be my familiar. Why are you here?”

“The promise of a comfortable new cat bed and clothing of my own.” He rolls his eyes, “Your snake venom can be substituted with burrowing lizard limbs marinated in regular spider venom.” You light up at his words, leaning into him. He chokes on air as your face nears. “Really?” The other places a finger on your chest, pushing you off slowly. “Yes, really. It’s one of the direct ancestors of proto-snakes.” You raise a fist into the air, giddily jeering in place as Taehyun lowers his head out of shame for you. “Thank you so much! Now I don’t have to call for the Chois’ overpriced bulk.”

“The Chois’?” He asks absentmindedly, examining the scroll once again. “Yeah, their shop has nearly everything—that’s why the markup is so high. Everything’s all in one store. My parents are trying to set me up with one of their sons, hoping we’d score some kind of deal if we get married.” The other notes the slight sulk on your face. “That’s a little…”

“Scummy? Old-fashioned? Utterly insane?” The other shakes his head, “I was gonna say too much information for me, but yeah.”

“Too much information? If anything you have too much information. Mixing ingredients and whatnot.”

“You have a funny way of calling me smart. I’m also good at math, fast arithmetics.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, if the brag is to make you jealous or to get you to praise him. “Where’d you learn to do all that?”

He shrugs, “Figured if I learned enough, I wouldn’t need to serve a witch.” Your brows pinch in guilt while you clear your throat. “I’m sorry about that.” Taehyun mimics your expression for a second before putting on a blank face and turning away. “You don’t have to, it’s not like you forced me to be trapped in that stupid orb.” His statements do not help to quell your thoughts, “Yeah, but I picked you.”

“It’s better this way, now I don’t have to spend another year in there. It was like an amniotic sac but worse. You couldn't push around.”

“What was it like in there?” You ask, to which he makes a sharp exhale. “Hell, for the most part. I kind of just thought a lot. Kind of like being a conscious fetus. But the more I’m out the less I remember.” You beam at the sparkle of hope, a desire to make it up to him though not a fault of your own. “That’s good! Let’s make you forget then.” Grappling his hand in yours, you run with him past the sea of individuals, off to cross off the rest of your tasks.

Taehyun picks up two suits made of leather, adding a pair of boots from the same material. The cart is filled with various garments of black and white, no shade in between and no vibrance of any sort. You sigh when he adds yet another blazer onto the pile. “You need house clothes and pajamas too, you know.” Dismissing it with a grumble, he retreats his hand to cross it over his chest. “These are fine.” You yank the piece out of his hands, feeling up the fabric. “I’m not dealing with your whining when you find it too hot in this. You’re fussy enough already, and you’re wearing light silk straight out of a bombyx’s anus.” He attempts to get the jacket back, a childish back and forth between the two of you. “It’s made up of a bombyx’s cocoon, you idiot. I’ll be fine.” You raise your hands in defeat. “Don’t come crying to me when you get overstimulated by stuffy latex.”

The other pouts, sitting on one of the changing room benches. “I just wanted something nice. It’s my first ounce of freedom after years, after all.”

If he’s manipulating you by sharing a sob story and batting his long lashes at you—it’s working. However, you’re not that gullible. “Two of whatever you want, then two sets of casual clothing and pajamas.” His doe eyes turn sharp with a grunt, “I’m an adult. I don’t need sleepwear.” You counter, “I’m older than you, and I wear them.”

“I’m older than you!” You plop down the seat across from him, crossing your arms. “Mentally, sure. But physically? Not. You’re forgetting all that time now anyways.” He rolls his eyes, legs spreading as he sinks onto the chair. “Besides,” You add, trapping his figure in between your arms, “I’m your master. Not like that matters either, since I’m paying. You earn the right to choose when you start earning from our apprenticeship.” He snarls, breathing heavy. “So what do you say?”

He’s silent for a few seconds, staring at the space beside you. “Fine.”

Except he’s not fine with this predicament. You’re across from him, cooing at the boy in a pastel blue, wool pants and top decorated with stripes and stars. “No.”

You frown, tossing him the next set of your choice. “Well, you’re not giving any recommendations. I had to guess what you liked.” He shuts the curtain behind him, stomping as he unravels the guess that you’ve made. “So you thought I would enjoy pink shorts with cupcakes and caricature cats on them?”

“They’re satin!” You defend. “Just try it, I have the same at home~” Snickering at the audible disapproval, you’re surprised to see him actually shuffle to try it on. It’s quiet in the dressing room, until he pokes his little head out. “Does yours look exactly like this?” You trace its cut-out to him. “It’s kind of like a night-dress instead of a tank top and shorts. Same print I guess.” He steps out of the booth, dropping a mountain of clothes onto your lap. “I’ll take these—and this.” he mumbles it so low it’s almost inaudible, pointing at the pink shorts and loose top from earlier. You nod, trying your best not to laugh, or pout at his cuteness, or anything to get him to drag this on further.

Turns out, Taehyun wasn’t kidding about the cat bed. “You sure you want these? We can scrounge up allowance to buy you an actual bed.” He shakes his feline head as his paws mark onto the felt pillow, testing it by stomping on it profusely. He shifts back, standing next to you. “It’s fine, doesn’t really matter to me. It’ll save you space too.”

After transforming once again, his stomach plunks down on a pink fleece cushion, yellow paw prints and ribbons patterned across the cloth. It almost makes you melt, the image of his cute cat self playing around in your room. The illusion dissipates just as soon as it comes, as you remind yours;f of his personality. You’re not sure if time could change how hostile and unwelcoming he was to you, and that thought heightens your anxiety to newer levels. If you couldn’t even get along with your own familiar, a creature known to be so loyal and docile to its owner, how were you supposed to take your place in this world? Become the one to lead a new generation of young mages? Uphold the reputation of a family so well-regarded?

The shopkeep, or rather his son, comes by with a smile on his face, knocking you out of your deep thinking. “It’s my first time seeing you here. New pet?” You hum in agreement, pointing at Taehyun. “Sort of, my familiar wants a cat bed.” The boy follows your finger, giggling. The aforementioned rolls around on the soft fabric, face rubbing against the sides. “He seems like he loves it.”

He moves behind the displays to drag something. It’s a pet tree, scratch posts and dangling toys asymmetrically branching from the base. “That’s actually part of a new collection we just got,” he expounds, moving Taehyun to explore the collection—like a child’s first time on a playground. “We just got it, and I’d think your cat would love it.” He talks as if Taehyun can’t hear him. Nevertheless, the cat roams over the space, purring as he rubs his side against the post. “I don’t think I can afford it right now.” You say, keeping your hands pressed tightly behind your back. The other hushes you, hauling the set over to the register. “Don’t worry, it’s on me. I’ll ship it to your place some time next week. Besides, I kind of owe you for saving my life that one time.” You both smile sheepishly, looking away from each other. “You were gonna live anyway.”

“Still, I appreciated it. Your partner deserves something good to sleep in.” Smiling, you pull the other in for a tight hug, murmuring a plethora of “thank you”s.

The door chimes behind you with a ring. Taehyun asks “Who was that?” Eyes twinkling at the food vendors. In increments, he swerves your walking direction, gaze locked onto the pastry stall. “Kai, we used to go to preschool together. I saved him from drowning, but I’m certain he’d live even without my help.” Tapping the glass, he turns to narrow his eyes at you, “You know he fancies you right?” You raise a brow, “What? No way.” The other tugs at your purse, grunting. “He gave you a—whatever that was. I’m positive it would’ve been hundreds of gold.”

You hand him the chocolate-filled pastry, tail swishing at its aroma. “It was for saving him.” He takes a big bite out of it, voice muffled as he replies, “You said it yourself, he would have lived. He just wanted an excuse to flirt with you, be in your good graces.”

“He doesn’t need to do that, he’s good looking and kind. Anyone who’s anyone would like him.”

“Do you like him?” You pause, having never really regarded him in such a manner. “Not like that, no.” The other clicks his tongue, “You’re leading him on then.” You turn a deaf ear to his provocations, marking the familiar signboard. Grabbing his forearm, you shush him, “Shut up, we’re here.”

The tavern is filled with all kinds of books and crystals, you take in the way they shimmer against the dim string lights hastily nailed onto the wall. The shell door curtain clatters, revealing an old lady in a lilac tunic, cane hitting against the floor. Her smile turns her eyes into crescents, gesturing at you to come with her. You shadow her as she flops onto her chair, the two of you settling onto a floor seat.

“I’ve received your call from earlier. It is no issue, these happen all the time.” Taehyun looks around, confused yet too prideful to inquire. “For starters, we must draw blood from each of you; a drop will suffice.” The boy's skepticism grows, finding it odd when you stick your tongue out. He does the same, stopped by the elder almost immediately. “Only the young lady. Your arm will do.”

The lady brings out two incredibly thin needles, pricking you both at the same time. “To develop the bond pendant properly, you must stay within close proximity with each other. The next few weeks will be the most crucial to form it.”

Taehyun’s body shoots up, backing up against the wall. “You didn't tell me you were going to bond me!”

Cornering him, you stutter, trying to find the proper words. “You wouldn’t have agreed to come! We were never gonna bond naturally, you hate me!” He scoffs, “Obviously! You forcing me without my knowledge is not doing you any favors!” You hold him tighter as he thrashes against you. “With that bond, I’d be weak against your wishes. It’s as good as mind control!” He bellows, nails seeping into your shoulders. You hold back a yelp of pain, biting the inners of your cheek. “I would never do that! Do you have such little faith in me? That’s not even how bonding—”

“The pendant’s objective is to strengthen your forming bond. I’d advise against an unbonded pair.” The lady chimes in calmly, “It would only cause more pain in the long run than do you any good. Especially for you, hybrid. Your body would slowly deteriorate, seeing as its main purpose is to serve its master; that’s what the sealing rite did to you.” Taehyun's face contorts in horror, waving her warnings off. “I’m fine with those chances. My life wouldn’t be mine anyway. I’d rather spend whatever fleeting moments I’d have free than under the spell of some neophyte witch.” He spits, shoving you to the ground and racing out of the clinic.

The sun dips into the horizon, sky violet as you trudge back to your home. Searching for him would be a futile hunt, he’d just slip out of your hands again. What he needed was space, a clear mind; as a matter of fact, you needed it too. Your stomach lurches in anxiousness, telling yourself he’s part cat after all, he’ll find his way back without a scratch on him. Despite the cries of wolves wail in the night, you will yourself to go further.

You lock the gates, a subtle frown on your mothers face when she makes out your figure in the dark. The manor and its lawn are coated in pitch black, with the exception of the warm glow peeking from the windows. “We were waiting for you for hours.” She says, voice laced with worry. “I was out looking for Taehyun.” You respond, moving past her. “He was here hours ago.” Your dad adds, halting you in your tracks. “What?” The two nod, pointing up to your room. “It’s past supper, and he’s not had a bite to eat. Cook him whatever he likes, he seemed like he was in a sour mood.”

How ridiculous. Mayhaps it’s a reach, but you pick apart their words for hidden subtext. You’ve done your hardest to ensure a comfortable stay and treat him as an equal and your parents nag and undermine both those efforts. They treat him no better than a cat, or perhaps they treat you as if you were his maid.

You slip into house slippers, fuzzy and contrasting the stiff arch of your trekking boots. It’s a small comfort, yet it eases your mind the most. The tension returns just as it disappears, cautiously stepping your way up the flight of stairs. The floor is eerily silent, air dry and hall dark, aside from the small light emanating from your bedroom, door ajar. You inch closer and closer, rustling of wood and shuffling of feet making itself more coherent.

You try to peek through the gap, gasping and barreling inside once you see the ghastly sight in front of you. The carnage of all your hand-crafted pieces are torn to shreds and reduced to uneven textiles across the ground, sullied and unsalvageable—beyond repair.

Tears clump at your eyes, threatening to spill as your mind races at a million words per second—yet no sound comes out, lips tucked between your teeth. You hold yourself back, knuckles whitening as you clench them. “What have you done?” You curse at yourself, always the ugly crier when outraged. His conduct is firm and anchored, face of ice and stone as he strides over. “You took away my freedom, and I took away your only escape from your burdensome reality.” He leaves you to hunch over your discarded creations, hiccuped and hushed breaths filling the air.

You’ve sacrificed much, yet you’ve yet to hear of the rewards. Were you bound to end up without companionship? Or have you decided not to let all of your hardships wilt away in vain?

You’re tired, sluggish and lifeless as you drop onto your mattress, cries muffled through your pillow.

How do you scream at the top of your lungs a secret and a shame not even your parents are aware of? Would you still be punished, knowing the remnants of your art are now fuel to your fireplace, oxidizing into smoke, and then into nothing? What about the humiliation that you couldn’t even keep a conversation with your assumed life-long companion?

You decide that the best next thing is to arrange for company, not for one, but three of your friends—under the guise of them calling to court you outdoors. You rush out the door with hasty goodbyes, stopped at the front by your father. “Bring your familiar with you! He’ll tell you which brother is best to keep.”

Keep, he says. As if the others, your friends, are to be scrapped like pawns. He talks big, as if Taehyun could sniff out your best pair, as if he knows you well enough to gauge what you like. Truthfully, you have not spoken or even seen him in weeks, passing each other in common areas and during meal times without so much as shared eye-contact. Your mouth opens to protest, but he’s quick to shoulder the hybrid out the door, a loud clunk of the lock behind him.

Strolling into town, your movements are constrained and awkward, weary of the ravenette as he keeps his distance at all times. Ironically, this is when you’re most in sync with each other. You step forward, he follows, and when you step back, he does the same. You try to widen that interval, but he’s precise with his footing, setting his pace to match yours.

When you reach the cafe, you check twice for the address sent. It’s hidden from the square and difficult to navigate, but find it worth it as you ogle at the building. It’s a greenhouse made entirely out of glass, the whole layout in your view. A pair of outstretched arms wave at you, beckoning you to come in. You walk through the marble path surrounded by water, fountains dancing as the crashing of water and chirps of birds ring in your ear. Even with transparent walls, it does not do the interior justice, beholding the vision of fluttering insects, swimming koi, the blossoming array of seasonal flora, and overhead skyline.

You unbutton your cloak, dark and unseemly in such a wonderful setting. It reveals a pink sundress, one you spent sleepless nights repairing by hand. They smile as you drop the hood onto the tile, sitting on

“Who’s this?” You spare no glance at their inquiries, humming. “That? That’s Taehyun.” They greet an awkward “Hi Taehyun,” and he doesn’t reply or acknowledge them in any way. One of them poke their heads out to inspect him. “Are you not going to introduce us?”

You scoff. “Does it matter?” The siblings nod and look at you incredulously. “Fine.” Your face is stern and unmoving, gaze bored and unfocused. You don’t turn to address the ravenette, not even a contraction of muscle. “Yeonjun,” you start, pointing to the copper-haired boy. He sends a wink over you both, earning mutual disgust. “Soobin,” your index moves to the blonde, smiling meekly. “And Beomgyu.” The brunette tilts his head, tongue poking his cheek as he stares at Taehyun. “Sit with us.” He says, and the shorter shakes his head. He shakes off the rejection, “You’re affiliated how?”

“He’s my familiar.”

The three are rendered motionless, shocked. “You’ve bonded, and yet no say of mouth.”

“We are not bonded!” You say in unison. Clearing your throat, you continue. “We’ve not bonded. Now quiet; I’m here to gossip. I’m here to buy fabric and ribbon.” Soobin chuckles at your business posture, head high and hands draped on top of each other. “You just bought more than a crate-worth of them! The poor packhorse was put on probation afterwards.”

You sigh loudly “And I apologize. I run through material quickly.” The eldest picks up a strawberry danish, offering it to the boy standing guard. Taehyun is unsure of his intentions, but takes him up on it. “Your dad still hounding you about tying the knot?” You scoff, teeth gritting. “It’s all he talks about, now that I’ve got the familiar ordeal under my belt. Which one of you unlucky bastards am I going to end up with?” They cackle at your exasperated expression, brunette scooting closer to link his arms in yours. “I’d be lucky to have such a talented mage as my wife.” Soobin rolls his eyes, elbowing the younger. “I called dibs first, you imbecile!” You chuckle, taking a sip out of the raspberry chai. “Ladies, ladies. Plenty of me to go around.” The blond pouts, retreating to his seat. “I don’t want to get auctioned off for anyone else for the sake of business! I’d rather it be a friend I can tolerate.” It’s a half-lie, half-truth.

“You just want to wed me for my mana and free stuff. Plenty of sorcerers competent enough for that.” He whines in response. “It’s not the same, we would be roommates with tax benefits.”

The brunette shakes his head, stuffing his mouth full of chocolate. “How absurd. Have you given up on finding greater love?” He says it with conviction, as if he wasn’t just trying to get the other to stop courting you. “Greater love,” Soobin mocks, “such a thing is fickle and ever changing. Too difficult for me to comprehend” Beomgyu shrugs at his loss of lust for life. “Everything is difficult for you to comprehend, you dunce.”

“Just wait ‘til we get back home you—” Yeonjun sighs, fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. “That’s enough. Just jot down what you need, and I’ll calculate them from you.” You smile, resting your head on the table. “No best friend discount?” He tuts, faking a punch. “We sell them to you without interest. That’s the discount.” You feign hurt, “How cheap of you.”

The rest of the noon rolls by seamlessly, the four of you indulging in child-like mannerisms and meaningless topics. By the second hour mark, Taehyun speaks up without prompting. “I don’t think you’re fit for any of them.” The three purse their lips and look away, busying themselves with food. You roll your eyes, “Who asked you, Kang?” He doesn’t even look at you, following the colorful wings of a butterfly, tail swishing in focus. “Your father told me to. If this is all, I would like to head back to the manor now.” So he listens to the irrational whims of your father, but not to you? “Go back home and do what? So you could lick yourself clean and lounge around the living room, being a waste of space?” He huffs in irritation, “A better way to spend my time than watching you galavant around town.” You stand, stomping over to him. “I’m rebuilding the closet you tore apart, asshole.”

Soobin lets out a strained laugh, “Okay, let’s just calm down–” You strike his arms away, “No. This blockhead ruined what I’ve worked so hard on for over a decade and a half. He has offered no condolences or apologies.” Taehyun laughs arrogantly, stepping forward. “I’m not your servant.”

“You’re right. You’re lower. You sleep in my house, eat my food, and shit in my bathroom without giving anything in return. You’re a leech.” His jaw clenches at your words, eyes boring into yours as your chests heave. You challenge him, brows raising as if to ask him what his next quips would be. Without another sound, he storms off, slamming the door with a force that almost cracks it.

Luckily, the cafe was nearly empty, saving yourself and your friends from embarrassment. You slump into your seat, eyebrows furling. Yeonjun breaks the silence, slowly reaching for a napkin. “You need to fix whatever’s going on between you two.”

“I know that, obviously.” You bite, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Everytime we talk to each other we end up fighting, I’m at a total loss.” Beomgyu reclines, suggestion in mind. “You should try Nepeta.” Your ears perk up, leaning inwardly. “As in… Catnip?” Soobin snaps his fingers, piling on. “Oh yeah! I think it has sedating properties that also induce oxytocin and serotonin, kind of like a get-along herb. It's used in pharmaceuticals for humans and especially on cats, so you might get him to relax around you.” Honestly, you never bothered to look into biomedicine, seeing as all your home remedies are holistic and passed down through families. “Where can I get some?”

The three point their heads over to the garden-patch, dragging you along with them.”

There’s no way this was going to work; you’re fairly confident you weren’t gonna go through with it anyway. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. On the counter sits an eighth ounce of Catnip, inelegantly situated in a plastic bag. You’re unpersuaded of what to do with it, ashamed that you had to resort to such methods. Not like anyone would see, since the adults have left home for one of their yearly conferences, and it wouldn’t be a week or so until they return. Everyone else, besides you and Taehyun. You have to get rid of it fast—unwilling to be at the receiving end of yet another one of his haughty expressions. You attempt to focus, exhausting all your options. It would dry up by tomorrow’s eve, and you wouldn’t want it to go to waste. Dashing over to the cupboards you take out an array of pans and bowls.

Your mind fails to register the sheer laughability of what you just spent two hours on, staring blankly at the fruit of your efforts. The pungent fumes waft into the air, brownies idle on the table as you poke into it. The chocolate all but oozes onto the plate, thin crust crunching against the utensil. They look… Really good. Good for a novice baker, good for someone who stuffed a bunch of inhibitors into the recipe haphazardly. You shouldn’t beat yourself over it, seeing as you only mixed half of what was in the bag. Why let such precious food go to waste? You recall the boys’ statements on how it’s as good as harmless for human consumption, hesitantly biting into one of them. You grin, nodding in approval as you scarf down on at least half of the pan. Your gluttony proves itself to be overboard, eyes growing heavier. They did say it had sedative properties. Yawning, you seal the rest of the baked goods into an air tight tupperware, scribbling your name onto the side with a sticky note and a marker.

The sound of clattering wakes you from your light slumber, along with thudding from the first floor. It’s probably the hybrid, but you could never be too certain, grasping for any heavy object to defend yourself with. Your tip-toes do nothing to muzzle the creek of the stair boards, dropping your makeshift weapon when you confirm that it’s just Taehyun. He’s panting on the sofa, legs sprawled over the cushions and floor. Inching closer, you observe his sickly state, sweat rolling down his face and ears downcast.

You're not really sure what to say, unknowing of what to offer to make him feel better. “Are you fine? Do you need anything?” His eyes are glossy and his words come out nearly in whimpers. “Fine! I’m fine, just need my bag.” The implication of him being so ill that he’s unable to grab a bag a few feet from him alarms you, and you hurry to feel his body temperature through his forehead. He swats your hand and snatches the satchel out of your hands, discarding it on the floor when he shakes the pops the cap of his pill bottle. You read the sides as he shoves a few into his mouth, sinking back into the sofa in an attempt to get comfortable. “You have heat cycles?!” The other covers his ears at your voice, curling up with a pillow. “It used to be bearable, I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days.” He buries his head into the cushions, biting down hard. “Can you just get me water or something? I feel like I’m fucking dying.” Nodding frantically, you sprint through the room to get into the kitchen. You’re really not sure if it would help, but you collect ice, placing them into a cheesecloth as a compress. You pivot to open the tap, freezing in place as you see the dirty dishes in the sink. “Did you finish the brownies?!” You yell, receiving no answer from the other. Stomping over to the living room, you hand him the glass and compress, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table. You repeat it, looking into his eyes and emphasizing every word. “Did you eat my brownies?” He scoffs, and looks away, a clear indicator that he did. You roll your eyes and get up the seat, pacing around the room. “I’m on the brink of death and you want me to be sorry for your shitty brownies?”

“They had my name on it, Taehyun!” He groans, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Fine! I ate your stupid brownies. Now can you please stop talking? My head is spinning.” You rock back and forth, “This is bad, should I write to my parents? Should I write to your parents? Who the fuck should I get?” Confused, the other tilts his head at you. “Are we on the brownies or my thing?”

“My thing!” You exclaim, “Taehyun, those brownies were chock full of catnip.” He rises from his position, eyes wide and disturbed. “You drugged me?!” You blink, stunned. “I didn’t drug you! It wasn’t even for you!”

He hauls his feet to the bathroom, letting the faucet run as he grips the sides of the sink tightly. “The catnip wasn’t for the cat? Sure, whatever.” You stutter, keeping your distance by standing idle at the door. “I didn’t even know cat hybrids could digest chocolate.” He splashes his head with cold water, a half-witted attempt to get him to cool down. “I’m part human, you idiot!” Crossing your arms, you lean against the frame. “Am I supposed to guess? You have the stomach of a human and have the libido of a cat?” With a glare, he bumps past you, settling into the couch once again. “It’s in the family books—books you were supposed to read for your familiar!” He heaves a long breath, running his hands across his face. “What’s the point? You don’t take good care of me.” You laugh incredulously. “Eat shit. You don’t even let me around you.”

“You want to be around me?” He challenges, taking your hand and placing it on top of his slacks. He’s looking up at you from his seat, pulling you down to reach him. “Then help me out; it’s partially your fault anyway.” Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, eyes flickering between him and the tent pitched in his pants. “I don’t think—” He cuts you off. “You’re my master, right? You take care of me.” He tugs you once again for you to hang over him, grinding against the arm between his crotch.

The morality of these actions are blurry, but you’re at your wit’s end with this—with everything surrounding the hybrid. You chew on your lower lip, closing your eyes as you let him guide you, tugging at his bottoms and resting them an inch above his knee. When his cock springs free, he keeps his other hand on top of his mouth, unsuccessful at restraining the moans that pass it. You’re in awe, mouth agape as his left wraps tightly around your right hand, fingers a step short from interlocking. “Move, I’m doing all the work here.” Taehyun orders like he’s owed, like he’s entitled to getting off with your hand. “You seem to be mistaken,” You state sternly, separating your hold from his. “I am helping you. I am doing you a favor, not the other way around. So ask nicely.” You take your frustrations out on his dick, a rollercoaster of speed as you take the pace from dangerously fast to painfully slow when you feel him near his peak. His pleas lodge in his throat, hips bucking into your fist and grip on your shoulders firm, like he was afraid you were going to pull away. You do, huffing loudly as you dramatically yank yourself away. He mewls, grasping at your unmoving hands. “Wha–why did you–”

“Ask me nicely.” He makes a noise that’s in between a scoff and a whine, “Are you insane?” You straighten your posture, feigning intention of leaving. “You can get off by yourself then.” His mouth drops slightly, clawing your arms. “No–wait!” He turns your head to face him, eyes glistening with an emotion you can’t quite figure out. “Please.” Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Please what?”

He inches closer, breath fanning your face as he trembles. “Please let me come.”

You really shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you do, thighs clamped together as you desperately try to ignore the feeling that resonates in your core. Biting your lower lip, you watch the other basically salivate at nothing. A beat barely passes after you nod, jumping you with such vigor it knocks you back onto the armrest. Now he’s the one hovering over you, chest rising and falling so rapidly you almost fear for him.

The concern is overshadowed by your surprise when he crashes his lips onto yours, teeth grinding as he licks all over your mouth, forcing your hand onto his member. His eyes screw shut at the cool skin, precum coating the rest of his shaft. You can still taste the brownies on him, and it’s no doubt the reason he’s licking you all over, in search of more.

“A-ah I’m gonna–.” You don’t say anything, don’t look at him; eyes focused on his dick as you work it up and down with swift flicks of your wrists. Your other hand is situated in between your legs as you listen to all the different sounds in the room: The squelch of your hand, the whimpers from Taehyun, the heavy pants both you and him take. He yelps as he releases into your hand, white seed painting your bare stomach. You hadn’t even noticed your shirt was half up. You’re unmoving, unsure of what to do next. The ravenette inspects the mess he’s made, the mess he’s made out of you—backing away slowly before bolting out of the manor.

It’s been days since you’ve talked to Taehyun, and the tension between you has been replaced, from anger to something neither of you are entirely sure of, though you have an inkling as to what it may be. Shoving it at the back of your mind, you stir the cauldron with a long rod, asking the boy what step comes next.

This is what you’re both good at—what you should have stuck to doing all along. It’s not so suffocating, you could even say it was bearable. This is what you desired. You don’t require friendship or some bond, what you necessitated was a competent co-worker and assistant; that’s what he’s here for.

You may have spoken too soon, a furious burst of light and smog rippling through the room. The pot and its contents spill onto the floor, glass shards landing all over the place. You land flat on your back, eardrums ringing. The only thing you can make out is ash, bits of gray and black swirling in midair. "What the fuck! You could've gotten me killed!" Taehyun scoffs, dusting himself off, no attempt to help you up. "Big deal, you screwed up the solute to solvent ratio." The accusation is both baseless and wrong, you would never blindly estimate measurements for tasks such as this. "How dare you I would never make such a—"

All of a sudden, it clicks. You would never make such a rookie mistake, and neither would he. "You were trying to kill me on purpose!" He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. "If I wanted to, you would've been dead by now."

"Then what the fuck was that! Or are you such an airhead that you couldn't even do what you say you’re so good at properly?" An unamused laugh exits him, nostrils flaring at the implication that he would be so careless. "I just wanted a small explosion so that I could report you as unfit to hold a familiar in your care! Not my fault you overdid it."

"My fault?" You yell, grabbing the other by the chin to face you. "You ungrateful piece of shit. I feed you and nurse you to health and you've done not a damn thing but bitch about nothing of substance. You should thank the elders they gave you someone like me." He keeps his eyes shut, muttering profanities. In all his ineffectual attempts to break free, he never lays a finger on you.

It's odd, and as you watch his biceps flex as he tucks his arms in between his legs, you don't believe that he's too weak to overpower you. Cocking your head to the side, you kick his arms out of his front, prying his hands apart. He curses as you gape at the view, leather stretched to its capacity as a noticeable bulge plants itself beneath the cloth. Your gaze finds his, irises shimmering like molten gold. It fades just as soon as it shows; your heart booms through your chest, and suddenly you find it hard to breathe.

He has bonded you.

“You pervert.” Claws protruding, he pounces forward, causing you to fall onto cobbled ground. It digs the flesh of your throat, piercing skin yet carefully maneuvered to not hit anything vital. He doesn’t add pressure, nor decrease it. Blood splatters across your collarbone when you move to take hold of his wrists, no force needed as he submits without resistance. “Look at what you did to my neck, it’s all tattered and ugly!” You scold, fingers clenched at the root of his scalp as you tug him over. “Kiss it better.” Amidst his whimpers, he swiftly climbs onto your lap, wet pecks all over the crimson dripping down your nape. You click your tongue, untangling your fingers to stroke the back of his head. “You’re still sick, Kitty. You get off my violence, and act like a brat when you don’t get what you want.” His ears twitch at your comments, leveling with you. “Hands off me. Now.” You roll your eyes, discounting his empty threats. “You didn’t seem to hate my hand when you force-fucked yourself into it last time.” His snarl grew more venomous, replying, “I’ll kill you.” The corners of your lips raise, tracing his cheek with your fingers. “As if. You need me.”

“I need you?” He amuses, knee jabbing right in between your legs. “I can smell your cunt from here. It’s not exactly subtle. You reek.” A haughty sound makes its way through you, lightly grazing the fabric of his slacks. “And you’re practically leaking. I’m not taking shit from someone who can’t even stop themselves from humping someone they hate so much.” You palm him through the cloth, and he elevates his hips into your touch. “But I’m a kind owner, so who am I to take no notice of someone in need?” He grunts, “Not my owner.” You coo, “Sure. Now be good for me for a sec.” He murmurs curses, staying still regardless. He anticipates your hand, short-circuiting at the sudden heat from the tip of your tongue. It swirls the head of his dick, and you look up to find the other staring back down at you. You kiss at the sides before dipping your head, a sharp exhale leaving the other. You instruct him to keep his arms behind him, and he fights with himself as nothing actually binds him from keeping his hands to himself. He’s mewling and moaning and thrashing in your hold, high screeches and low moans sending waves straight to your mouth. “‘Can’t do it, ah—need it deeper.” He sighs, pressing a palm to the back of your head and forcing himself down on you. You hold back a gag and glare at him, dragging your mouth off his cock with a resounding pop.

He whines at the loss of you, head thumping onto the wooden floors. "Why—” Wiping the sides of your mouth, you sit up. “This is gross.” He scrambles upward, “But you started—” You’re easy to dismiss him, although your complaints were nothing but a farce. “I don’t care. This is gross, and I get nothing in return. If we’re keeping score, you’ve done nothing to please me.” He narrows his eyes at you, leaning forward. “Please you? I don’t need to do that.” Rolling your eyes, you match his challenge by leaning in too. “Don’t need to or can’t do it?” he gulps, eyes shifting to the side. “I’m not falling for your manipulative tactics.” You tilt your head innocently. “I’m not asking you to,” You feign offense, “but wouldn’t it be better if you came with my mouth, instead of something so pathetic like your own hand? Aren’t you sick of it yet?” The hybrid stays silent, thinking heavily as his tail rocks slowly.

“What do you want?” You smirk, pulling the other’s disheveled self through the hall as you make your way into your room. You slam it shut behind you and fiddle with all the locks, skipping over to the dresser.

“See, you’ve ruined all that’s important to me. It’ll take me months–no, a year to finish all this again.” You sigh, acting hurt. “It’s only fair that we do something about it, no?” The other’s mind goes to the worst of places, tail stiffening as he asks, “Are you gonna make me dress up?” The look on his face is priceless, he’s obviously scared and on high alert, gaze shifting in distraught. “I mean, as long as it’s not super degrading maybe I—” Your laughter cuts through his rambling, clutching your stomach.

“Aren’t you adorable?” Patting the empty space next to you, he settles down timidly, shuffling in his seat. “Thanks for your open mind, but your little temper tantrum cost me everything in my inventory. So no, I have nothing for you. Maybe next time?” Taehyun exhales a breath he didn’t know he kept, nodding. You play with the neckline of his blouse, “But since I have nothing, you shouldn’t have anything either.” You tilt your head with a smile that almost feels threatening as it looks innocent, “Strip.”

The hybrid shimmies out of his garments, shifting nervously on the bed. He feels cold and exposed, blush coating his porcelain body. “Now I just have one last thing for you.” You take out some sort of collar from behind, placing it onto your lap. It’s pink and frilly, no doubt a creation of your own. The sides are decorated with metal spikes and chains, seemingly sharp but dull and harmless to the touch. “Where did you even get this?” You shrug at his question, linking the accessory onto a chain. Taehyun’s tail tucks in between his thighs. “I know it doesn’t match you, but we’ve got to work with what we’ve got, no?” You reply, securing the piece on him. He’s patient and quiet as you fasten the collar, tugging between it and his neck for allowance. “You look so cute.”

The ravenette says nothing, but his tail sways at your words, pink flushing deeper through his ears and cheeks. For a while, the two of you are just staring at each other. You note his smooth skin and slender figure, caressing the sides of his arm. He shivers at your contact, some fingertips more calloused than others. He takes in the darkening red across your mouth and neck, skirt hiking up as your body shifts to kneel beside him. Call it impulse or passion—you both lean in at the same time, kissing soft and slow as his hands wander around your waist. He snakes them up your chest and unhooks your bra, heaving your shirt above your head. He cups your cheek, brushing it slowly. It’s almost chaste and virginal, void of any sexual intent and malice.

But you remind yourself why you’re here in the first place. You bite down on his bottom lip—metallic tang coating your tongue. You part from him with a trail of saliva, blood flowing in steady beats. You smudge it across his cheeks with a satisfied smirk. “You can’t tell yourself it’s because of your rut anymore.” He keeps his head down. “You're forcing me to.” You sigh in return, inching closer. “You have a lot of false notions on bonding, Taehyun.” Leaning over, you place soft pecks onto his face. “This is what you want. You can leave anytime you desire, have anything you desire.”

Taehyun blinks heavily, right before he takes your lips in his again. It’s carnal—it’s him; letting go of his inhibitions and the potential consequences of his actions. He accidentally nips the mound of your lip with his canine, a soft squeal sounding off your lips and into his. He thinks it the most delicious sound he’s ever heard.

He wants to hear more, see more, but all he can do is kiss you deeper. He licks the blood off your mouth, sucking on the cut until it stops streaming. That’s not how that works, you know he knows. He savors the taste of it, only relenting when you tug at the collar. “You’ve hurt me again, are you sure you’re not doing it on purpose?” You say it with an adequate amount of confidence, but your eyes are downcast—hands trembling. He shakes his head fervently, ears shooting up. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to say anything in fear that it makes him look pathetic and needy. Instead, he licks a long stripe along your inner thigh, stopping at your sopping cunt. He rests his head on your skin like a pillow, silently waiting for your next move. You pull at the leash and the other stumbles forward—nose pressed against your core. He plays with the lining of your panties, using nothing but his tongue to take them to the side. He tastes you like he’s been starved for days, lapping over your entrance like clockwork. Your grip around the chain and his hair, making him groan into you, hands reaching over to play with the plush of your breasts. You’re knocked onto the mattress, eyes screwed tightly as your orgasm builds up, barely suppressing yourself of moans. The way you chant Taehyun’s name pushes him forward, making out with your cunt like his life depended on it. When you come on his face, he drinks every drop that flows out of you, kissing and praising you through narrowly audible whispers.

You open your eyes to find him on top of you, waiting for you while the both of you catch your breaths. “You’re really good at that.”You mutter, playing with the gap on his garter belt. He smiles sheepishly, head ducked and pressing his fingers into your hips. “Does that mean I get a reward?” You scoff half-heartedly at his change in manner, drawing his face closer to yours. “What was it about forcing you again?” You tease, sitting up and pushing him down. “I’m just kidding, ‘course you do, Kitty.“ You swear he purrs when you caress his cheek, throwing a leg over his torso. “I’ll make you feel better.”

You line the tip of his cock near your entrance, eyeing the other with hunger. Taehyun ingrains the image of you over him in his memory—your parted lips and heaving form contracting when you sink down on him. His pre-cum and yours mix to make such filthy noises, spurring the both of you further. Grinding your hips, you throw your head back as he fondles your tits. You’re quiet, save for the few grunts when the other sneaks his pelvis to meet your ass.

Taehyun really wants to hear you again, wants to see your pretty face when you come on his dick, the pretty squirms you make when he bottoms out from above. So he takes matters into his own hands, shoving you on your back as he rams into you. You throw a hand over your eyes and mouth, and the other is quick to swat them away, pinning them down. “Wanna hear you, pretty.” He rolls his hips really slow, right before slamming them against you. “A-ah Taehyun, don’t—” He pays no attention to your cries, thrusting irregularly. “Don’t what?” You yelp, “Don’t stop—fuck!” His mouth latches onto your throat, littering the skin with love bites as your pussy clamps down on him. “Faster–‘m so close.” You sob, marking his back. Taehyun leaves no room for you to breathe as he pounds into you. “Me too,” he lets out, whining at the feeling erupting from him. His body shoots up in preparation to pull out—but you stop him, heels digging at the plush of his ass. “Don’t. Want you to cum in me.” He’s more than willing to respect your wishes, smirking down at you as your eyes roll in pleasure, drool trickling down your chin. Your back arches off the bed, chest meeting his. He fucks you through your high, pulling you in and letting you bite down on his lips. With one last plunge, he empties himself into you, white liquid displaced as it runs down the entrance of your cunt.

For a while, both of you just stare at the ceiling. Nothing but the sound of your own racing thoughts and the clock ticking are present, until Taehyun breaks the silence. “I’m not your sidekick.”

You sit up, clearing your throat. “I don’t expect you to be.” You reply, tracing the veins on the back of his hand. “We’re a partnership. We need each other.” You pause to look him in the eye, and your breath hitches at the full sight of him post-sex. “I need you.”

He smiles, teeth tugging at his lips to prevent such an action. “I’m still upset about the blood pendant you made without my permission.” You chuckle at his ignorance. “You’re not as knowledgeable as you regard yourself to be?” He’s confused and a bit offended, as indicated by the twitch of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just meant—the pendant is supposed to help speed up the bonding process between pairs. The mind control thing is just a myth too.” He goes silent, twisting his head away from you. “So earlier, that was,” He trails off, and you finish his thoughts. “Yup, that was all you. If it was true, it would've been illegal, Tyun.” He’s quick to change the topic, watching you settle back down into the covers. “So we have nicknames now?”

“Oh,” You alarm yourself, “Sorry—I just—” He laughs, “It’s fine. Should I call you anything?” Before you’re able to say anything, he interrupts. “I’m not calling you master.” You giggle, nodding. I wasn’t gonna call you that anyway. Tilting his head, he narrows his focus on you. “Noona?” You stare at the ceiling, lips pursed and ignoring the incessant prodding at your sides. “You’re blushing. You like, Noona?”

“Shut up. I thought you said you were, albeit circumstantially, older than me?” Turning back to him, you take in his face as it glimmers in the warm, dim light that emits from the singular candle lamp. “I’m willing to admit I was wrong.” You let out a sound of amusement. “Huh, that’s new.” He rolls his eyes, boring his gaze into yours. It’s slight, but you feel the ravenette wriggle closer, inching his pinky around yours. With that, you intertwine your hand with his, and the both of you gape at one another in silence.

if you saw the original..u didnt

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs and tags appreciated♡

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longing-for-rain · 5 months

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regarding aang becoming offended bc of his portrayal as a woman in ember island players, i think his anger was justified on that specific occassion? I mean, the fire nation was mocking his gentle nature and pacifism by portraying him as a blithering naive idiot who never took things seriously and the belittling of his culture and beliefs. This is one of the worst episodes for him, dont get me wrong, but in this case, femininity was utilized as a source of derision and weakness imo. I dont say this with bad intentions, just thought i would write this bc i also condemned aang for the same thing before

If that was what Aang was upset about I might be inclined to agree, but everything he says and does throughout that episode points to the contrary. Aang doesn’t say anything about the incorrect portrayal of his culture and personal values. Here is what he does say:

[Note: the above expression is before the actress hardly says anything so he’s clearly just mad about the fact that she’s female]

Aang: [angrily] Is that a woman playing me?

Aang: I don't do that! That's not what I'm like! And I'm not a woman!

[Note: the official script includes the emphasis; again, it’s very obvious that he’s most bothered by being played by a woman]

Then this exchange:

Toph: I don't know, you are more in touch with your feminine side than most guys.

Aang: [Standing up, angrily] Argh!

Katara: Relax, Aang. They're not accurate portrayals. It's not like I'm a preachy crybaby who can't resist giving overemotional speeches about hope all the time. [Everyone looks at her] What?

Aang: [Turns around and sits down. Sarcastically.] Yeah, that's not you at all.

You know what I love about this conversation is that is proves two things at once. Firstly, yet again, it’s clear that being portrayed by a woman is what is most upsetting to Aang. Secondly, his reaction (and, honestly, insult) to Katara’s values here shows that he’s not thinking that deeply about this. It has nothing to do with values. Aang is offended at the idea that he is being portrayed by a woman and with more “feminine” qualities, which honestly plays well with his creepy, possessive behavior with Katara later this same episode.

And I actually do like the fact that you brought up femininity being used as “a source of derision and weakness” because guess what! That’s the definition of femininity itself. Femininity doesn’t mean simply being a woman; femininity is the social behaviors and roles that women are expected to fulfill. Which is why I don’t have any sympathy for a man who is offended by being called feminine or compared to a woman because it’s reflective of a deeply misogynistic attitude on his part. If Aang thinks femininity is so degrading and weak, what does that say about the fact he expects his crush to behave that way? I mean, this is what he thinks of Katara, through his own perspective:

So yeah, that’s my question. If being compared to a woman is so insulting and humiliating to Aang, what does that say about how he intuitively views actual women? Why does he think he’s above that treatment but women aren’t? People act like I’m crazy for saying that he exhibits toxic masculinity this episode but this only furthers that point.

Oh and before someone jumps in here and acts like this goes both ways, let me point you to this:

Toph’s reaction to finding out she’s being played by a big, buff, stereotypically-masculine man. She’s thrilled! Why? Because we are products of a misogynistic society and therefore intuitively view being compared to a man as a compliment and a woman as an insult. The respective roles assigned to each are not equal. Masculinity and femininity were never equal and the system was deliberately created that way. You can see this idea ingrained in the writing of this episode because it’s a bias we all hold to some degree, including the writing and creative team here.

So I’m sorry, but considering the bias clearly present within the writing team and the way the characters behave this episode, it’s clear to me that Aang’s reaction has nothing to do with his culture and everything to do with his misogyny.

#besides if we’re talking culture #supposedly he’s also meant to avoid earthly attachment and possession #which is not in line at all with his treatment of katara #anti kataang #canon critical #aang critical #atla #avatar the last airbender #ember island players #meta #zutara #katara #toph #fandom salt

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genshin-scenarios · 9 months

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A Flower Made of Playing Cards (Lyney x Reader)

Summary: A highschool idol AU commissioned by a very kind and patient anon!

It's mostly inspired by this headcanon post, where Lyney spends his civilian life starting to pine after you (a classmate) while keeping his idol life as 'Felis' a secret.

Content warnings: reader is implied to be at a height where Lyney can spin them under his arm?? That's pretty much it! Still gender neutral as usual

Preparing for the Stage:

When Lyney was first asked what he wanted to base his idol concept on, he decided on the magic of luck — something unpredictable and frankly, he wouldn’t bet on most of the time — but if a black cat of all things could disguise itself as a charming magician who made dreams come true, Lyney thought that could be the truth threaded within his performances.

His luck in gaining a family as supportive as his own. His luck in being chosen out of many candidates to debut, and…

Suppose a bit of rotten luck could play into his concept too. The kinds where props or staff go missing on the day of his nationwide tour, and miracles come into play to get him out of a tight spot.

But like a cat landing on its feet, Lyney — as Felis — would always come through in the end with a smile.

There is comfort in the mysterious and ethereal. The audience places their faith in idols to remain as an untouchable being, talented and charming till the end; while the idol repeats their tricks and illusions, learning them down to a science of well-orchestrated plans.

With the right people to support him behind the curtains, Lyney is sure there is little he can’t do.

But at the end of the day, Lyney is still just a teenager. And when faced with you, who’d unknowingly puppeteered his heartstrings to skip at the quirk of your lips, eyes crinkling with laughter from your seat a few rows away…

No one said that stars couldn’t fall in love. In fact, the ways they do so might be more beautifully devastating than ever. And Lyney is nothing if not someone who burns as brightly as he shines onstage.

On the other side:

You’ve always thought of Lyney as a regular classmate; one who gets along with others but otherwise keeps to himself. And sure, he’s also really cute, but Lyney’s always just been a nice presence to hang around with, especially after you learned he has a knack for magic tricks and was willing to teach you a few, skilled fingers sifting through a deck of cards.

You’re starting to think that Lyney’s not just a friend to you anymore.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings at bay, you’re more than aware that the nerves building up in your stomach whenever he’s near spells out a crush. As you get to know him, Lyney’s somehow went from cute to pretty, and you know you're not crazy when you notice his quiet charm shifting into something more extroverted.

There are no seating plans during the breaks between classes — particularly if it’s this week, where your science teacher has packed off to accompany a sports team to a tournament — so you spend the hour finishing your substitute work with Lyney by your side. Except once you’re both done, he takes to scrolling through his phone and showing you the posts on his feed every now and then, and you swear his chair has been shifting closer and closer every minute.

With quiet words, Lyney leans towards you with a quirk to his lips. You wonder if he realizes how dangerous this is to your wellbeing.

“This cafe’s menu is themed after wizards! See the cauldron?”

“Maybe you could get a part-time job there as an entertainer.” You suggest.

Lyney hums. “But I only like to perform magic for my friends. Which totals to three people, including you.”

“Are the other two Lynette and Freminet?”

“Bingo!”

“I don’t know if your sister would be happy to hear that.” She’d probably say he sounds like a loner.

“Nevermind if that makes her cringe — she’s stuck with me anyways. But I’d like to think at least Freminet would be happy.”

“He’s a sweet kid,” You try not to get distracted by Lyney’s hair tickling your shoulder. “Maybe you should take him there with you.”

“Just between us, I think Freminet would be more comfortable if you were there too.” Lyney shrugs, eyes meeting yours with a clarity that tells you this is a genuine offer. “He’s a bit more chatty around you, which is saying a lot.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’re too much for him?”

“Whatever do you mean? I’m nothing if not quiet, introverted, shy…”

“Shy.” You repeat in disbelief. You might’ve believed that once upon a time, but certainly not now. “A shy person wouldn’t offer to teach a stranger how to do card tricks.”

“Maybe I was just enchanted by you.”

“You avoided me unless we were talking about magic.” You remind him, to which Lyney bumps his shoulder against yours with a huff. “Maybe at that time you were a little shy, but I highly doubt you’d be like that towards your brother.”

“I’ve let you talk too much to my siblings…” He’s pouting. “Your impression of me is ruined now.”

“There’d be nothing to ruin you with if you haven’t done anything.” You tap your chin. “Is there another big secret that I should ask them about?”

You don’t notice, but Lyney’s eyes widen before he tears his gaze away from you, trying to stop the blush rising on his cheeks. If he wasn’t sitting so close, he’d probably slap his face to snap out of it.

Which secret? His crush — or idol career?

Just the thought of you knowing about his feelings is enough to make him combust, but the idea of you realizing he was the idol Felis? You’ve already told Lyney you weren’t that interested in idols since they were real people, compared to 2D characters who you could headcanon about to your hearts’ content.

A part of him is relieved this means that if you fell for him, it’d be for himself. But another part feels like it’s a waste of the possibilities floating around his head; what if he surprised you by inviting you to a concert, then watched as the understanding enters your face when he steps onstage? What if he dedicates one of his performances to you, or asks you to sneak out with him after a show?

He’s even wearing just one side of his earphones so there’s an opening to offer you the other; it’s less about the music at this point, and instead the little gestures that tell him he has a chance.

He’d take any interaction if it has to do with you, but only within the safety of his own home would Lyney allow himself to daydream — his imagination causing a burn on his cheeks.

Lynette tells him he’s been reading too many mangas, but an idol can dream. Lyney just hadn’t expected you to become one of said dreams so fast.

Rehearsals:

Somehow, practicing how he’d confess to you is harder than any other rehearsal Lyney’s done. Perhaps it’s because he knows he looks like an idiot, speaking to the wall-length mirror after he gave up on Lynette and Freminet as helpers.

…The things he’d like to say to you remain private, anyways. There’s no way Lyney could bring himself to sound so sappy to anyone’s face but yours.

Seeing as it’s off-season, the only idol work Lyney has is related to magazine and advertisements shoots. It’s nothing much compared to when he first did an overseas tour, so he has the chance to steal some time for himself — going for a coffee run after he dons a mask and large sweater, then a cap which hides most of his hair.

Today Lyney had to model for a limited-edition pocky series. It’s strawberry and something-flavored, so the dress and makeup people had the bright idea to add a ribbon to his hair. It’s fanservice, it’s cute, and Lyney doesn’t think much of it seeing as he can’t see himself, until he spots you outside of the cafe where he’s waiting for his order.

He’s always been light on his feet, but Lyney doesn’t think he’s ever ducked into a corner so fast, quieting himself in an attempt to become invisible.

You haven’t seen him without his glasses before, so maybe you wouldn’t…?

“Order for Felix!”

Of course it’s his turn now that you’re here. He considers taking off the ribbon before thinking better of it, hoping it isn't visibly poking out from underneath his cap.

“...Here!” Lyney tries not to cringe as he goes up to the counter. On most days he gives the cashier a random name — sometimes ‘Felix’ because it could be his idol alias read wrongly — but right now it almost gives him a heart attack when he hears his not-name, because it’s followed by you accidentally bumping into him and apologizing for almost spilling his coffee.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“It’s alright, nothing’s spilled.” Lyney realizes too late that you might recognise his voice, and starts to speak in a muffled tenor. “No worries at all. Thank you for your concern.”

“...Felix, was it?” You look at him in confusion. “Is your throat okay?”

Before you can look at him any closer, Lyney’s turned away from you and started to speed-walk out of the cafe like his life depends on it.

“Perfectly fine, enjoy your day!” He says a bit louder to not appear too rude. He’s quite sure his ears are red as he makes his retreat, and by the time he makes enough distance between himself and the cafe, Lyney realizes something.

He didn’t even get to hear your coffee order!

Back to your side:

Out of all strange incidents that could happen over the weekend, you didn’t expect an encounter with some ‘Felix’ guy to linger in your mind until now.

To be honest, it was less about the stranger and just the ribbon you spotted in his hair when he ran away. As you listen to Lyney ramble about a magic trick he’s figured out recently, you watch the way his ash-blond locks sway with every motion.

…That pink ribbon from the stranger's head might look cute on Lyney. With how the breeze is playing with his hair, you can imagine the ends of the ribbon floating, threatening to fall loose and fly off the school rooftop you’re loitering at.

Lunch finished and forgotten, Lyney stands up as he’s reminded of something. He spins on his heel to look at you, hands linked behind his back.

“You know, over the weekend I saw a dance go viral.”

“The one on tiktok?”

“Yep! Want to try it?”

Lyney’s not usually this energetic, but it’s not so out-of-character that you’d start to find it odd. Instead, you’d like to preserve the easy smile on his lips while you still can — it’s a rare sight to see him this excited, steps light and gaze playful.

“I’m not a good dancer, though…” You hesitate, before Lyney comes closer to pull you to your feet with both hands — and how could you say no when your fingers are still loosely linked between you?

Lyney’s cheery demeanor slips into something more calm. With a content hum, he takes a small step away from you and positions his feet. You mimic him as he explains each move.

“Okay, so now you have to do a turn from this side.”

“How should I when you’re still holding onto me?”

“Like this,” Lyney urges you to turn, and as naturally as momentum brings you, he lets go of one of your hands to twirl you under his arm. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m quite sure the dance didn’t involve a partner.” You can’t keep your smile down, peering up at Lyney when you stand in front of him again. “Trying to set a new trend, are we?”

“Only if you’ll let me record us. I won’t post it anywhere though, since my manager might get mad at me.”

“Your manager at work?” You ask, confusion furrowing your brow. “Did you accidentally sign an extra clause or something? They shouldn’t be able to control how you act outside of your shift!” Lyney bursts into laughter, earning a light hit on the shoulder from you. “Hey! This is serious — what kind of part time job did you get yourself into?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s a regular side-gig.” Lyney calms down, expression dusted with a pink blush as he looks at you fondly. “I’m a bit of a public figure, though I don’t normally dress that way when I’m at school.”

“Well then, Mr Popular.” You play along. “What should I be calling you instead then, when I see you during your job?”

“...Most people call me Felis, if that rings any bells.” He glances away. “It’d be pretty embarrassing if you didn’t recognise my name. But I do have to sing, dance, and…”

“You’re an idol.” Your eyes widened, the words spoken so quietly, you had to repeat them just to make sure they didn’t slip away. “You’re that idol, aren’t you? The sparkly-looking guy on the billboards!”

“Not so loud!” Lyney hushes you, grabbing your shoulders in reflex before stopping. He clears his throat, taking a step away. You would’ve minded the distance more, if it were not for the sight of Lyney bashful in front of you. “...It’s a bit of a secret, just so I can still live peacefully as a civilian. I asked Lynette and Freminet to make sure no one could overhear us here. They might be as nervous as me about your reaction, I’m sure.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.” If anything, they might be more worried about Lyney recuperating. You speak tentatively, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Now that I’m checking properly though, you do have the same look.”

It takes everything in Lyney to not squirm at your touch, and it’s even more terrifying that he wants to keep you there. “I would hope so, seeing as we’re the same person.”

“I bet Felis doesn’t spin his fans under his arm,” You quirk a cheeky smile. “Unless there’s something else you have to tell me?”

“Of course not, that’s only reserved for the best of…” Lyney trails off, the word ‘friend’ dying on his tongue. Not that you aren’t one, but— “I thought it’d be important to tell you about my job, before I ask you the real question I have on my mind.”

Giving him a nod, you tell him you’re all ears.

“...If you’re free next week, would you want to go somewhere together? As a date, I mean.” He lets the question sit in the air. “I understand if not, of course, whether it be because you just see me as a friend or find the whole idol thing too much—”

“I’ll make sure I’m free.” It takes a moment for your answer to register in Lyney’s head before his eyes light up. “Rather, you might have to make sure I don’t mess anything up for you. Like… should I call you by another name? Do I also need to wear a disguise?” If you had a net right now, it’d be very helpful in catching the butterflies in your stomach, to keep you focused on what you’re saying.

Just you would be perfect. “As long as we dress casually, it should be fine.” Lyney’s smile is contagious, now that he’s settling into the fact you said yes. “Sunday afternoon?”

“Sounds good!” You’re cut off by the bell. Remembering that you have PE and haven’t changed yet, you curse under your breath and quickly apologize to Lyney. “I’ll see you later— or text, if not!”

By the time your sentence ends, the door to the rooftop has shut, and Lyney is left standing with the tiniest of smiles, looking at the ground to try and control his expression before his siblings can bombard him with questions.

Lyney has never felt nervous while singing love songs before, but his manager recently commented that he feels younger than usual. Like an actual teenager in love.

It checks out, considering how fast his heart races when he starts to associate lyrics with you. Gone is the Felis who shines like an untouchable star, and here enters an idol who might just be human.

He enjoys it, as afraid as he is at the same time. To place one’s heart in the hands of another is terrifying, but he’d rather it be you than anyone else.

…But maybe you shouldn’t attend any of his concerts for now. He doesn’t know what he’d do if his brain short-circuits at the sight of you within the crowd.

His own little secret within a sea of people entrusting him with their dreams — what a thrilling thing indeed.

Speeding up:

After that day, you noticed that Lyney has loosened up more around you — in a way that means he’s more likely to smile and cling to you during conversations. If he had cat ears, you can imagine they’d be standing proud every time he managed to fluster you, watching for every micro-reaction as if his career depended on pulling that expression from you as he might with a crowd of adoring fans.

Except you think that Lyney’s adapting to this too quickly. How is it that he was the nervous one that day at the rooftop, but has been going on the offense ever since the next morning?!

Lynette apologized to you in advance, telling you that once Lyney has his eyes on a goal, he’d be merciless in trying to charm your heart. You just didn’t think it’d affect you this much, though that might have more to say about how quickly you’re falling rather than Lyney’s approach.

Every time Lyney calls your name and decides it’s time to hang around you like sunshine to a flower, you’re reminded of the clips of Felis you’ve watched after learning of his job. It was a mix of curiosity and puzzling out what Lyney’s other side might be like…

But god, does he have to constantly sport a smile like that? You find out through a promotional video that the coffee shop stranger actually was Lyney, and the ribbon does look very cute in his hair.

It’s a shame you’re only seeing the whole design through a screen. And even worse is the way he’s blowing a kiss to the camera in this one music video—

“What’re you watching?” Lyney’s hands rest against the back of your seat as he leans to look over your shoulder, prompting a panicked noise from your throat. You fumble with your phone, flipping it over so he can’t see. The little smile Lyney’s wearing tells you he has an inkling, but he does you the favor of not spelling it out. “Must’ve been a pretty good video if you didn’t hear me coming over.”

“You snuck up on me!” Sending him a glare, you power off your phone protectively. “...And if you must know, I was just listening to a song.”

“Can I hear?” Despite his playful tone, Lyney does give you the space to deny him as he adjusts his glasses. “But of course, I understand if you don’t like to share headphones.”

“I don’t mind, but there’s something else I’m wondering about.” You tilt your head up to peer at Lyney more closely, reaching a hand out to graze against his fingers. “Are these real?”

“My hands? I’d hope so.”

“Your glasses.” You retort quietly, trying not to roll your eyes. “Despite how I had to make a reality check about you too, I do know in fact that you’re real.”

Lyney laughs, raising a fist to his mouth. “You flatter me. But to answer your question — yes, these are actual glasses. Though the prescription isn’t too bad, so I only wear contacts if needed elsewhere.” With a serious pause, Lyney meets your gaze. “I wear these to school though, because I need to look at the board from behind and admire you clearly.”

You prop your chin against your palm. “I’m starting to think you’ve gotten too flirty recently.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve been holding back?” He hums, pulling a chair to sit beside you and mirror your pose. “I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with me romantically at first, but after that…”

“...You’re lucky I find you cute.” You sigh in jest. “At this rate, you might wear me down before we even go on a first date.”

“There’s still a lot about myself I’d like to share with you.” Lyney quietly admits. “I just hope we’ll be able to talk with more freedom. And if you decide you still like me after that — I suppose I’d feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

The softness in his words somehow hits you harder than his previous flirtations.

It’s me who should be feeling incredibly lucky.

Rather than one persona being more genuine than the other, you were starting to understand Lyney’s balance between the schoolmate you knew and the charming idol onscreen.

You see the truth of his smile underneath the blinding lights and exchanges in the hallways; the adorable way he fiddles with his pen during class versus his confident choreography.

It’s all Lyney. You just have to learn more about him and put his trust to good use.

He’s not the type to pull just anyone into his world, after all. Lyney has always held back just a little, so as to not let his secrets show from behind the curtains to even his familiar friends.

And now that he’s allowed you in, how could you possibly take his excitement for granted? You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to it too.

The date:

When Lyney greets you at the start of the date, the last thing you expected is for him to sneak a pink rose into your hair in place of a bouquet.

He claims it’s more discreet, especially considering the way he’s dressed with a mask and hat to hide his features, glasses also present. Despite these, Lyney is expressive enough that it doesn’t affect your conversations, and you allow him to take your hand as he leads you to the aquarium. It’s lunch time, so you’re going against the regular flow of people and enjoying the exhibits while it’s less populated.

Beneath the walkway tunnel where various rainbows of fish swim by, you gaze up in wonder at the shadow of a shark passing through.

Fontaine is nothing if not abundant in sea-related attractions, even if the main city is on land. You haven’t visited this aquarium since you were a kid, so it was nice to relive traipsing through a world washed in soothing, gentle blue.

“I think when we were younger, me and Lynette would talk about catching these fish if we were allowed into the tanks.” Lyney muses. “Perhaps that’s why our father says we’re like cats.”

“If we were in the wild though, catching fish for dinner would be a pretty good idea.” You gaze up. “But… if I was able to breathe underwater, I think I’d just spend all day escaping my troubles.”

“Would you have space for a partner in crime?”

“Only if they’d be able to help, by whisking us away from pursuers, for example.” You smile when Lyney starts swinging your hands lightly between you. “It’s stressful business when I have to worry about two of us getting caught, instead of just one.”

“I’d take the heat so you can get away first.” The conversation is childish, but Lyney’s sentiment makes a frown pull at your lips.

He’s confused when you stop walking and turn to face him. “No self-sacrifices! We either run together or get caught together. Nothing in-between.”

Something flickers in his eyes before he replies, tone warm. “Alright then. I’m at your mercy.”

“A bold claim, when you surprised me with this in my hair.” You point towards the rose Lyney’s managed to secure to your shirt with a pin, after his initial sneaky reveal. “...I’m just trying to make sure you’re not the only one giving between us, but it’s hard to keep up with all…” You gesture vaguely at him. “This.”

“You just signaled to all of me.”

“That’s right!” You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. Lyney resists the urge to reach out and entwine your fingers again. “You’re too pretty, and nice, then I find out you can sing and dance too—”

“But I like surprising you.” Lyney chirps back, a laugh in his voice as he notices the way your face is darkening with a blush. He does you the service of hiding this from passersby — if any actually entered the walkway now, empty as it is — with his hands cupping both of your cheeks. “Maybe it’s because I’m a workaholic, but I want to make sure your eyes are only on me.” It’s the most dangerous thing he could say to you, in public or not. “So maybe I should apologize for dragging you into my selfish whims.”

“...But you don’t intend to stop.” You say, feeling lightheaded.

“Of course not.” Lyney hums, eyes bright with a smile. “There are a lot of stars to compete with in the night sky.”

And you said we're in this together, did you not? It's not the first time someone's told him he doesn't have to do things alone, but… it means a lot, coming from you.

“I hope you don’t say this to all your fans,” you sigh, relaxing into the softness of his palms. They’re smooth, and you realize Lyney’s always felt a little warm to the touch.

“You’re a fan?”

The lilt in Lyney’s voice tells you you’ve made a mistake in your choice of words. He’s much, much too happy that a previously-disinterested person like you has now seen enough of his idol content to make such a slip.

“A fan of Lyney Hearth.” You try to salvage your pride, gaze trained onto the ground.

“Oh… I see.”

Lyney’s eyes widen before he catches himself, suddenly glad he’s wearing a mask for a different reason.

God… What is he going to do with you?

After attempting to feed penguins, seals, and exploring the open pool where you’re allowed to touch reef creatures, you and Lyney make a beeline out of the aquarium and towards the main shopping street, where many cafes are abound.

Since you were working against the usual rush schedule, you managed to grab a seat at a local favorite which also served meals; corner of the cafe and out of sight.

The meal passes by without issue, and next you browse some stores nearby while slowly heading towards the park. You were in a hobby shop when a group suddenly exclaimed the name Felis, causing Lyney to flinch and pull you with him behind a shelf.

“Oh my god, they do have idol stuff!”

“Yeah, but we already have this! It’s not new merch, y’know.”

Lyney lets out a relieved sigh, slumping against the shelf of comics. “Nevermind, false alarm.”

“Are you always this jumpy?” You whisper back, resisting the urge to look around him and see what said Felis merch was as the group moves to another end of the store. Lyney doesn’t seem to realize his arms are still wrapped around you, and that if you simply tilted your head a little, your faces could touch.

“Only because I’m more distracted today.” With you. “It’s nice to know that people are having fun though. My manager would classify that as a good review.”

“Yes, but also, um…” You clear your throat, causing Lyney to finally turn his head and freeze at your proximity. “Not that I mind, but you’re still holding on to me.”

“...Am I too close?” He sheepishly asks.

Yes.

“Not at all.” You swallow your nerves. “But if the staff find us like this, we’re definitely going to get kicked out.”

One shared crepe and a walk in the park later, you reach a quiet area hidden between the trees that’s lit by the evening light. Lyney explains that he and other trainees would often come here to hide out and practice choreography together, when the training rooms became too suffocating. In hindsight, he’s quite sure this spot had eventually been bought out by their company, seeing as they never ran into any press or strangers here.

“We’d prop our phones on water bottles and record ourselves, since there was no mirror.” Lyney recounts. “It was mostly to catch our mistakes, but some managers encourage us to pretend we’re doing vlogs too, to get used to presenting our personalities to the camera. Whatever does get uploaded is screened, though.”

“Do you still have those videos?” You’re sitting on a bench, legs crossed and facing one-another. “The ones that didn’t get posted, I mean.”

“...Maybe? They’re really embarrassing though.” He chuckles, and almost moves to take off his mask before he thinks better of it. “And I think I only did those to update my family on how I was doing. They don’t believe my words entirely when I say I’m fine.”

“You are too good of a talker, so I’d be wary too.” You laugh, glancing up at the sky. The clouds are parting for purple and orange. “I think once upon a time, I might’ve dreamed about doing something creative too. Like singing, fashion, or etcetera.”

“Not every interest has to be placed in the public eye.” Lyney takes off his hat, giving you a wink. “Guess what’s inside.”

“A dove? More roses?”

“Take a look.”

Once you lean closer, Lyney raises the cap to shield your faces from one side, then pulls his mask aside to block the other. It’s over in a moment, but he brushes his lips over your cheek, and the one image that clings to your mind is the blush adorning his face and the clear look in his violet eyes.

Eyes that are trained on you — holding your attention until something flickers in the corner of your vision, and Lyney reveals a rose made of playing cards.

You look down to check for the flower pinned on your shirt: no longer there, and presumably transformed by Lyney’s trick of the senses. He allows you to take the handcrafted rose with a satisfied smile.

“I was nervous it might’ve fallen apart after walking around all day.” He admits. “It’s not as romantic as a regular rose, but I hope it holds its charm all the same.”

It’s very him. Lovely and careful in the ways he opens up his petals to you, but hiding a puzzle of spells underneath.

“It’ll last a lot longer, too.” You smile, storing it carefully to take home later. “How long did you spend on preparing that?”

“What do you mean? I transformed it in a second.” He muses. “Besides, I don’t want to spoil the magic. It took a lot of practice, but normally just with an audience that looks at the hat, instead of…” Lyney trails off, clapping his hands together as if to signal the next topic. “I can teach you to fold a flower like that though, if you’d like.”

“In the library as usual?” You allow the shift in conversation, if only because unlike Lyney, you do not have the solace of hiding your expression behind a disguise. “I’m starting to wonder if your skillset will ever be exhausted.”

“Well, I’m quite adept at interviews, modeling, and learning things by sight.” For his idol work, he means. “But I will admit I’ve been curious about baking. Maybe one day we could try that together.”

“Collecting points in more categories, I see. Maybe you can teach me how to dance, too.”

Lyney surprises you by swinging his legs off the bench and standing. He gives you a little bow, a glint in his eyes as he extends a hand towards you. “One of Felis’ you mean? I could do that now.”

Right now?!

“Don’t you trust me to?” Lyney pouts. “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“M… Maybe next time?” You’re not too sure, suddenly feeling intimidated by the idea of proper choreography. By instinct, you still take Lyney’s hand and get to your feet. “I need to mentally prepare— Whoa!”

Before you can finish, Lyney’s spun you around and lowered you into a dip, hands supporting you at your back and waist. He keeps it shallow and helps you back up — lips quirked as you’re suddenly pulled closer to him with the momentum, bodies and faces inches apart.

His pupils are dilated.

Your indignation quickly forms into surprise. There’s a quiet tension surrounding the air — a question asked, and your hand reaches up to take off Lyney’s mask in reply as he steals your breath away straight from your lips.

You’ve been wondering when you’d finally get the chance to stop his honeyed words with a kiss.

After you get home, you find a playing card that Lyney’s slipped into your pocket. On it is his familiar scrawl, and a few simple words:

‘Thank you for today. Love — your number 1 fan.’

You get a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time you exchange messages upon a suit of hearts. Maybe you’ll start investing in a deck of your own, just for him.

#genshin lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin x reader #lyney genshin impact #genshin x you #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin reader insert #genshin writing #genshin impact imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin fic #traveler wishes

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 2 years

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One of the oddest “Anya is better than Miri” takes I’ve seen so far was over on Twitter, and someone said they only liked Anya because she was a child character with agency (implying that Miri doesn’t have agency).

(Going to preface this by saying that I haven’t watched Spy x Family and personally just have no desire too, so I’m not even going to focus on the Anya aspect, just the Miri stuff, since that is all I really know).

Okay, well, from a sociology standpoint, most four year old children just don’t have much agency. Here is the definition of it:

We are only going to focus on the bold part: “In social science, agency is the capacity of individuals to have the power and resources to fulfill their potential.”

What is explained above is something entirely dependent upon the parents and their job/jobs and social standings. A child has no say or influence in that really. They are still very dependent on their parents and are still just learning too much. Kids in the four year old age range may not even know right from wrong yet or, if they do, they have a very black and white and basic understanding of it (usually based around rules - like what we see with Miri in Episode 6).

But, that person was likely talking about on a literary level. The literary definition of “character agency” is:

We are only going to focus on the bold part once again, which is: “’Character agency’ in fiction is used to describe the ability a character has to take action to affect the events of the story.’”

The comment about the lack of agency with Miri was made before Episode 5 comes out, which is when we see her personality really starting to show through, and we see the series developing her more as a fully realized character, rather than just a plot device. But even before that, we still saw Miri have agency within the series. Since lack of agency usually means that things happen to the character, rather than them actively causing something to happen. Miri has independently and actively caused a number of things to happen in Buddy Daddies. Such as:

In Episode 1, she independently and actively chooses to go into the elevator when she sees the cake...literally setting off the entire plot.

In Episode 2, she independently and actively chooses to disobey Kazuki’s words to stay in the car and go ring the doorbell to use the bathroom. This completely messes up Kazuki’s plan and causes a huge shift in the series itself, since it results in Kazuki and Rei being jobless for a bit.

In Episode 3, Miri independently and actively searches out Rei and has a fairly deep (for a four year old) discussion with him about smiling and making “pain” go away. She later has another deep (for a four year old) discussion with him, that results in him thinking about his upbringing and what it means to be a “Papa.” These discussions in turn affect Rei’s decision to be Miri’s “Papa” alongside Kazuki. Thus, once again, majorly shifting the story.

Those are just three examples, and yes, Miri’s decisions usually end up affecting Kazuki and Rei, but that’s because she is their child and they are her parents. Miri is given a personality and agency that is at a realistic level for a four year old. So this argument just makes no sense to me, unless you are expecting the same level of complexity and agency with a four year old child character as you would get with an adult, teen, or even pre-teen/older child character. Which just seems silly to me, tbqh.

#Buddy Daddies #BD #Miri Unasaka #Rei Suwa #Kazuki Kurusu #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #long post #image heavy post #meta post

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illululusion · 11 months

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I have not been normal about nerdy prudes must die since it came out so it seems its time for me to write my analysis of 'the summoning'.

I will put a cut down here because holy shit i did not think i was this normal about them this is long. also spoilers for nerdy prudes must die!

Now the summoning is what I would consider the climax of the show.* The scene answers the big questions of the show. Not by just stating the answer like the mayor does, it shows us. it also shows us the oh so beloved oh moment of Steph knowing she loves Peter.

The scene also uses some form of chekov's gun multiple times.

We've been told that the school was built at what used to be a black altar. this scene shows what such a black altar allows someone to do. especially in combination with the book.

A literal chekov's gun, the gun Grace stole and then Steph got is heavily implied to be used. (finally)

As i've stated before the love situation. We knew Steph and Peter had something going for them but this only confirms it.

THE PHONE! Steph thinks her phone is the thing she cherishes most, which is not a big stretch, we've seen her be willing to suffer injury to protect her phone. (a lovely little detail)

they setup Grace using the book against dirty dudes.

I may be missing something whoops but yeah,

now the scène itself has a lovely buildup. First the three are in very low energy summoning the lords in black. The frightened energy is just seeping out of them, you know this is their last resort. Then the lords in black appear, from a pure darkness, with a high energy slightly discordant song (the piano and the guitar clash a slight bit). This stands in contrast with the slow piano music under the teens throughout the scene. Within this song the lords in black seem unsurprised by the situation, they seem elated even. They also clearly state they are not forces of good at most they can be considered gray ("us spawn of the Black and White") however the other pieces of lyrics are very much against that assumption.

Let's look at some of the dialogue a bit more closely why not? I wont be looking at all of the dialogue because thats a bit too insane even for me.

"Out of the depths of Hell and back" Us spawn of the Black and White" "Cover our souls with robes of black" "And take up the arms of night"

This seems to me even like they chose to be in the black, they are from hell they're from the night.

"Nibbleline wants his sacrifice And Wiggly wants his wrath We dance around the pentagram And take all our kingdoms back"

The previous shows intent: sacrifice, wrath, getting what they deserve.

"You summon us once you summon us twice, You gamble it on a roll of the dice"

Now this is what predicts Grace's dirty dudes must die. it also seems to imply that Steph's father among others used the book foolishly, the chance of victory seemed to outweigh the risks.

"The devil has won it can't be undone The book has all but closed on your life"

Shows that the lords know the teens are in no position to bargain. They know theyre above them.

Wiggly: Don't be so formal, Stephie. We're all paly-wals here. I mean, look at us. We even hold court in your own tongue and form. Go Nighthawks! (Lords in Black laughing) Pokey: Our true forms would melt your minds. WIggly: Don't frighten them, Pokey, you nasty boy.

This is what we'll see more in this scene wiggly is the medium between the will of the lords in black and the teens. An interesting detail. This also seems to be Wiggly trying to make the teens be less guarded. THeyre showing some sort of "goodwill", like "hey we could easily kill you but we're throwing you a rock let's see what can happen.". Additionally, this also shows them being more powerful than the teens again.

"The Lords in Black will help you yes You stupid silly girl Why help you with the Jagerman When we can help the world!"

Once again a show of power, why even ask for help they're already there just show them what you can give them. They have got all the time for anything, theyre more powerfull than just stopping that jagerman.

"Steph: What about a bargain? We'll give you whatever you want. Just get rid of Jagerman!"

A show that the teens have no other choice. THe fact they have heard the lords in black say theyre from hell doesn't matter anymore. They're at a low point.

"Whatever we want we want we want Whatever we want we get Whatever you want you want you want Forever in our debt"

no other way to say this other than: "you fucked up kids"

Wiggly: "Oh, you'll hardly miss it. We just want what you cherish most."

hmmm understatements are fun. I love these paradoxical statements.

Wiggly: One of you must give up the thing you treasure above all else. Pokey: Do it, or die!

Once again a lovely power statement, though that's not what I found interesting. The interesting part about this is that they only ask for ONE of them fo give up what they cherish most. They could ask for way more, they've made that clear. So why ask for only one thing?

"We don't give a shit about your phone"

This is the one moment I feel like the lords in black loose their composure. My hypothesis? they don't like people lying to themselves when something is very clear.

"The Lords in Black the Lords in Black call us"

The chorus sing the lords in black call us, WHO ARE THE CHORUS I NEED TO KNOW.

"Out of the depths of hell and back Us spawn of the black and white Cover our souls with robes of black And take up the arms of night You summon us once you summon us twice You gamble it on a roll of the dice La la la la la la la la la la The devil has won it can't be undone The book has all but closed on your life"

JUSt one thing: A lovely circular closure to the scene.

OKAY thats the dialogue wooooo (theres more to be said about it probably but also I just My brain want to get to the next part.)

Okay Okay okay okay now for the fun part!

The lovely staging and costume and its so wonderfull.

So in the above image we can see the lords in black as well as the teens. As i've stated before the lords in black like to make a show in power and the dynamics are very much powerless vs. allpowerfull.

Now what the positioning on the stage does is show this contrast as well. The lords in black are all over the stage standing, moving, dancing. High energy high standing. This while the teens are sitting on the floor, all together, they're as small as they can be in this setting. This shows how little power they have at this point.

The lighting as well as the costumes adds a lot as well:

See the teens here? no special lighting aside from the effects of the lords. This is in incredible contrast with the lords. colourful and bright. This is similarly the case with their costumes, the teens all have quite plain clothes, nothing special for a costume definitely, we do have the more unique clothing to define each character** but that falls away once you look at the lords:

Wiggly: bright green light (so much fun green isnt used in stage lighting often i am in love), Green clothing, a suit with glossy pants a crown and of course the wiggly doll in the back.

Nibbly: SO PINk, but also fleshy pink somehow. the lighting isnt as obvious but it is still pink. here the sparkes return. The giant lolly. just the giant lolly.

Blinky: Interesting choice to have the face as obscured as it is. once again i cant say the lighting is very obvious but it is there. The purple orange colour contrast makes them stand out. when in comparison to the others his costume isnt as showy.

Tinky: HOLY SHIT THE EYESHADOW. which isnt visible because.... yes the lighting! yellow lighting! the outfit isn't as sparkly but because it is the brightest outfit of them all I doubt that would have been neccesary. It keeps the balance. I am also Biassed I love this getup.

Pokey: once again: LIGHTING! blue! but also, Pokey I feel is the least obvious lord in black in the scene, the positioning on the side of the stage across from Tinky the yellow and blue contrast how fun. especially as Wiggly (green) is in the middle. just so good.

I just wanted to add some more because look at how wiggly is so much higher in this scene, he needs to look down on the teens, but doesn't do that often, not even bothered to look at them wow. Also quick note wiggly seems the most bothered by the summoning, wonder why.

And whenever all of the lords are singing with their discordant choreography, the lighting goes all disco and far brighter. A great detail to show they're individuals but are similar. see how the light is not green here? yeah that happens whenever all of the lords are speaking.

All in all I think Nerdy prudes must die is now in my top three favourite starkid shows. and I will be using the lords in black as inspiration in the play I'm in currently as well because this is exactly the type of thing we were looking for. and also I am not going to be able to think about anything but this show for ages.

I highly encourage anyone to give their opinions or whatever they noticed because I need it I would love to hear them. GO NIGHTHAWKS!

1* Now this comes at a relatively late time in the (already very long) show. At the 2 hour point we've been following our dear cast for around 4/5ths of the show. Now keep in mind this is doesn't matter much, but I think it's interesting that they chose to have the climax at this point. The play being as long as it is means they had to have been very confident in their ability to keep the viewers attention and especially with the slow buildup.

2** OH MY GOODNESS I JUST REALISED HOW WELL STEPH AND PETER's PALLETTES WORK TOGETHER. like theyre both earth tones. the green and brown fit together so well, and then you also have the patterns, different but still similar enough to not clash.

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd spoilers #npmd #starkid #team starkid #lords in black #hatchetverse #nerdy prudes spoilers #nerdy prudes must die spoilers #starkid npmd #ANyways hoped people enjoyed this haha :)

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rallamajoop · 7 months

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Mia Winters and the Connections

There are a lot of bad takes on Mia Winters out there, a lot of really irritating shallow misconceptions. But for now, I’m just going to tackle one of the big ones that annoys me the most.

Mia Winters is not a scientist, and it's debatable whether she had any long-term association with the project that created Eveline. She may not have even met Eveline before being assigned to transport her to South America.

Mia’s not any kind of researcher. Her job when she worked at the Connections is laid out clearly in the first document you find within moments of starting the flashback ("Orders"): she’s a member of the Special Operations Division in the English version, or a 'special agent' in the Japanese (特殊工作員, tokushu kousaku-in). The English version also gives Mia the role of 'caretaker', implicitly of Eveline, but there's not much to suggest this is a role extending beyond the bounds of this particular mission (for comparison, the Japanese doesn't mention caretaking at all).

Mia's job is exactly what we see her doing in the game: transporting important assets under cover identities, and running around doing damage control with a machine gun if things go south. She echoes the same in her letter to the Bakers, stating she 'was assigned to transport some important cargo.' Even the 'imprinting protocol' she refers to seems to be mostly part of a transport protocol (going by the very little we ever learn about it), and may not even have been implemented until shortly before they left.

Even in the one photo of her standing with the research team, you might note that Mia and her partner Alan are the only people present not wearing lab coats (and believe me, with how much other photoshopping there is in this photo, Mia would have been wearing a lab coat if they'd wanted her in one). The photo itself is far more of an easter egg than a real plot point anyway, and probably isn't worth reading too much into ‒ I mean, Alan is apparently the director of the Special Operations division, so it makes no sense to assume he's part of this one science team. But if you really want a 'canonical' explanation for this photo, considering Mia and Alan are wearing the same clothes as in the ship flashback, you could reasonably assume it was taken right before Eveline was shipped off to America ‒ a kind of "Let's get one last snapshot of the team together with the transport crew before Eveline goes to South America" deal. It's completely plausible Mia may not even have met Eveline until the same day this was taken.

So where does this 'scientist' nonsense come from? The only source which does call Mia a 'researcher' is a timeline entry in this one RE7 strategy guide which has never been published in English – and it's a good example of why sources like this are usually better treated as pseudo-canon at best. You can find various translations of it online – but you can also buy the whole ebook (which I did), so here's the page where it originally comes up.

And yes, inasmuch as I’m qualified to translate, the line does state that Mia joined the company as a ‘researcher’ (研究員, kenkyuu-in) in 2010. But the same guidebook also refers to her as an operative (工作員) just a couple of pages later, so even the guidebook is hardly consistent.

Charitably, perhaps we could read that Mia was initially hired as some kind of generic, low-level research assistant before being transferred to the special operations division after showing aptitude in that area. But it's more likely that Mia was simply going to be a researcher at some point in the game’s development history, before Capcom changed their minds, and the timeline that made it into the guidebook is just very out of date ‒ it happens. Either way, one line in an inconsistent guide book hardly trumps what actually made it into the games.

I do realise that asking people to pay attention to what's actually in the games over what's repeated in some wiki somewhere (or a gazillion different fanfic) is a big ask for any fandom, but Mia was clearly never a scientist in the game we all played. She still knowingly worked for some really evil people – she doesn’t get to claim innocence here – but the idea she's personally responsible for every bad thing ever done to Eveline is absurd.

FWIW, other details from the guidebook also back up the idea that transporting assets was a major part of Mia’s job. Her bio (above) mentions that she was away from home a lot, something that strained the Winters’ marriage, and that she told people she worked for a ‘trading company’ – a solid cover for a job focused on travel and logistics.

A very little is said about Mia’s relationship with Eveline. The guidebook does mention that the reason Eveline’s so attached to Mia is because Eveline had known her since she was ‘confined to the “mysterious organisation” that created her’, which could be taken to imply she knew Mia well before their trip began, but it's not much to go on. Mia's own feelings on Eveline are described briefly in a caption: “Although Mia found Eveline creepy, she also felt compassion for her lonely situation,” which tracks with how Mia interacts with her in-game. It doesn't track so well with the idea Mia had any real authority over how Eveline was raised or treated, however, and would be perfectly consistent with the idea Mia might not have known her long at all.

The guidebook timeline also tells us that the E-series project begain in 2000, and that Eveline herself was created in "the early 2000s." This doesn't make a whole lot of sense for reasons I've talked about already, but does put Eveline's creation well before 2010, the year the same timeline gives us for when Mia started working at the Connections. Since the guidebook also tells us Mia was 32 in 2017, back in 2000, she would have been all of 15 years old. Whatever Mia's involvement, the project long predates her joining the company.

But the real issue with trying to given Mia any major responsibility for the E-series project is that the lab that created Eveline was located in Europe. Mia, meanwhile, has a driver's license telling us she's from Texas.

The European location for the lab is another detail that gets barely mentioned in the games, though it's mentioned repeatedly in the guidebook, and the Baker Incident Report even puts it specifically in Munich, Germany. Given all we learn in RE8, that location does make a lot of sense, when the mould was found in Eastern Europe, and that Miranda herself was part of the research team (she gets multiple photos and a lab coat, you may note). And even if the lab wasn’t right on Miranda’s doorstep, Munich is a heckuva commute from Texas, or anywhere else in the US. Even if Mia was often away from Ethan for long periods, as her bio implies, how involved could she realistically have been?

I don't want to overstress the idea that it "doesn't make sense" for a special agent from Texas to have been intimately involved in a European research project ‒ making sense has never held back RE lore before. But the idea that Mia was brought in only as a handler for Eveline when she was being moved to America still makes a lot more sense than to suggest the Connections were fine with their star asset’s primary handler going home to the US every other weekend.

There are possibilities between the two extremes, of course: Mia may have had sporadic contact with Eveline before the trip, either regularly or just once or twice. It's easy to assume the 'imprinting protocol' must mean that Mia's been Eveline's primary handler for some time, but heck, maybe it's better read as the opposite ‒ something that can be quickly applied to a new handler or caretaker in a hurry, to explain how Eveline got so attached to someone she'd only just met.

Given everything we actually see of her, you could even speculate that Mia was chosen as Eveline's 'caretaker' specifically because she was someone nice and motherly enough for Eveline to bond with. Eveline was pretty clearly fucked up long before Mia ever got involved, and not actually wanting to adopt a walking bioweapon whose idea of a happy family involves mould-powered mind control really does not reflect badly on Mia's character.

Whether Mia was already working for the Connections before she met Ethan also isn't clear. The guidebook tells us she began working for them in 2010, and married Ethan in May of 2011 (later confirmed by the date on Mia's ring in RE8) – though it doesn't specify when she and Ethan met. Even by Texas standards, marrying someone you’d known less than a year would be pretty unusual, so it’s likely Ethan knew her before she took the job. But even that 2010 statement comes along with the bit about Mia being hired as ‘a researcher’, so you can always take it with a grain of salt if you'd prefer.

And that's pretty much it for what the complete RE canon ever tells us about Mia and her former employers.

So here’s where I’m left with Mia’s role at the Connections. Even if she wasn’t aware of exactly what she was signing up for when she joined the company, and even if she considered all that lying to her husband about it to be a simple matter of confidentiality around sensitive research, she’s fully aware by the disaster in 2014, and plainly has a guilty conscience when she admits to lying to Ethan in her video message. However responsible she may or may not have been, she's still complicit. Her hands are hardly clean.

But they’re still a whole lot cleaner than, say, Luis’, considering that he was a key member of the science teams at both Umbrella Europe and in Saddler’s cult, and I don’t see him getting a fraction of the same hate as Mia. They both regret what they’ve done, and they’re both willing to give their own lives to make up for it. No, Luis never lied to a spouse about it (that we know of), but he's every bit as shifty and secretive. And frankly, most of the other shit that gets dumped on Mia’s doorstep is just as much bullshit (like, people do realise the “Mia” we see having “marital problems” with Ethan at the start of RE8 isn’t Mia, right?) But that’s material for other posts.

We don’t know how Mia got involved with the Connections, or how she felt about working for them, because the games never give us this information, and that’s a real shame. But in the capitalist hellscape we’re all living in, she’d hardly be the first to find herself stuck working for truly terrible people, one way or another.

Meanwhile, everything we see her doing during the outbreak on the tanker speaks to a basically good person, desperately trying to run damage control in a fucked-up situation. She tells Alan she’s not going to let him die, even though what’s going down is his fault. She tries so hard to talk Eveline down. After she’s rescued by the Bakers in the Daughter's DLC, she insists on staying in the trailer, meaning to leave at her first opportunity – pretty significant, considering she knows she’s infected already. She also leaves them a message warning them to stay away from Eveline, even sharing information on how to make a serum if they are infected. If you pick her over Zoe on the dock, the first thing she does is try to convince Zoe to come with them anyway. Even under Eveline's mind control, you'll catch her ranting about needing to contain the outbreak, blaming herself, and telling Ethan she loves him with her last breath.

And after being infected herself, the first thing on her mind is to try and protect Ethan, recording that message admitting she’s lied to him, and warning him to stay away (Ethan never gets that message, but you can’t say Mia didn’t try). Mia loves Ethan enough to die to save him – and she will, if you choose the Zoe path, and she’ll do it without a second thought.

Mia is fascinating to me as a character because she’s so full of contradictions: a woman who leaves syrupy video messages sending ‘tons of kisses’ to her husband, but who is completely comfortable running around with a machine gun killing mould-monsters, and who shrugs off an Eveline jump-scare with 'fucking hallucinations!' Someone who’s done bad things and knows it, and is trying so hard to make up for it, but whose background and motivations are left frustratingly undeveloped. But if you haven’t caught that Ethan and Rose mean more to her than anything, you really haven’t been paying attention.

Whatever you assume about Mia’s full story, she’s complicated in a way that makes her so much more interesting to me than most of the franchise’s more popular playable characters. I am very serious in saying I want RE9 to be just the full Mia-Winters-story, because to me that’s the only remotely satisfying justification for keeping her such a mystery for so long. I know that's not at all likely, but fuck it, I can dream.

Mia’s made her share of mistakes, but holding her responsible for everything the Connections has ever done is no kind of fair.

#Mia Winters #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 7 #Mia Winters week #The Connections #RE lore #Mia is THE BEST character I WILL FIGHT YOU ALL

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fromtheseventhhell · 7 months

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I'm not sure how to get it into people's heads that Arya is a female character. She's not a boy, not nonbinary, trans, agender, or genderless. I don't intend this in a way to be negative or wanky, but her girlhood is imbedded within her character. The problem isn't that Arya stans are missing the point by overemphasizing her femininity and wanting her to be a barefoot tradwife baby making machine, but that we're stating it exists when the majority of fandom and the show itself have gone out of the way to minimize the relevancy of her gender. I'm fully convinced there are a lot of people who think Arya would be the exact same character had GRRM created her as a male character named Arry instead, perhaps they'd do a better job at acknowledging her importance.

What's most ironic to me is how these same fans will gush and coo over the sisters being more alike than we think, but only if it involves giving Arya's characteristics to Sansa. Well acktually, Sansa likes to ride horses just as much as Arya does! They're so alike uwu! But dare acknowledge that Arya has traits and aspects commonly associated to Sansa then not only does that get accusations of wanting Arya to become Sansa, but that it's solely about showing Sansa up and wanting her to grovel in Arya's shadow and superiority 🙄 Hypocrisy and projection showing itself.

Somewhat of an aside, but I recently saw a post on reddit complaining about the fact that all four of Daemon's children survived the Dance specifically focused on the fact that both Rhaena and Baela lived. According to the OP, one of them should've died and their post-war roles in the story should've been given to only one of them. Which at its core is really the main conflict between Sansa and Arya stans, no matter how much the Stansas want to cover their ears and play dumb. It's not about Arya stans projecting their sibling squabbles onto the two of them but simply the fact that it's not possible for two characters to fulfill the same role in the story, specifically when it involves two female characters. The existence of two Stark sisters is an inconvenience for the people who want the story to revolve around Sansa.

I have to believe there's some bubbles that they don't want to admit will burst if TWOW will ever be released and that's why they cling to the idea that Arya stans are the delusional ones. They have to believe that the parts of Sansa's seasons 5-8 storyline they like came from GRRM instead of D&D or else their Jonsa and QITN fantasies will fall apart. I have no idea how someone can watch the scene where Sansa tells Arya she couldn't survive what she had while Arya can only sputter out that she was training and believe 1) it makes sense for their book characters and 2) D&D didn't blatantly favor Sansa and Sophie over Arya and Maisie.

This ask came literally seconds after I drafted a post talking about this exact topic and it's so wild to me that we were both up thinking about Arya + her girlhood and wanting to discuss it 🥹

As for this ask, you really hit the nail on the head. Arya's gender is an essential aspect of her journey but fandom ignores that because they've decided that there's only one "right" way to exist as a female character. Arya's self-esteem issues stem from her being a non-conforming Lady in a misogynistic society, she has to disguise herself as a boy in part because of the threat of sexual violence, in Harrenhal she is assigned gender-specific tasks/labor, political matches are made without her knowledge/consent, she is threatened with sexual violence multiple times, and even her role within the FM is influenced by her gender. Her being non-conforming doesn't mean she's the complete antithesis of everything feminine. The obsession with propping up Sansa has ruined people's ability to perceive complex female characters, ironically including Sansa herself. They genuinely would've respected Arya more if she had died passively rather than fight for her life and you can't tell me that isn't misogyny.

That Reddit post is a great example of how people genuinely can't (or refuse to) comprehend the idea of two female characters occupying the same space. Cause you're right, that is the root of the issue. I think the only reason they bother with the fake "Stark sisters uwu" crap is because they've backed themselves into a faux-feminist corner and they don't want to look hypocritical for disliking Arya. So instead, they pretend to care all while rewriting her to serve as Sansa's prop. This is also why so many Queen!Sansa truthers are also anti-Dany + think that Sansa becoming Queen depends on Dany's downfall. They desperately cling to the show as canon, when D&D have openly admitted they changed the story because they favored Sansa/Sophie. They're fine with how show!Arya is written because to them, that's exactly how she should be; a subservient lapdog for Sansa. TWOW is definitely going to ruin that illusion, and one of the reasons I'm optimistic about it being released is getting to see fandom's reaction.

#ask #anon #arya stark #anti sansa stans #anti d&d #anti got #this fandom is bullshit but getting asks like this is why I'm never going to leave #cause I enjoy discussing Arya's character with people who just /get it/ more then I hate seeing delusional takes about her #I will continue to celebrate her character and call out nonsense for as long as I can #also the timing of this particular ask was just perfect *chef's kiss*#honestly I'd prefer that stansas just admit they don't like Arya instead of constantly downplaying her intelligence and trying to #gaslight Arya stans every time we make book accurate posts/theories #no we aren't delusional for thinking that Arya will be a leader lol and they don't really believe it either which is why so much #of their time is spent pilfering skills and plot relevance from Arya to boost their fanon Sansa theories

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qvrcll · 10 months

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the string to strike within

summary: ellie is fond of the idea of scooping you up for a date. even more-so when it mingles with the idea of a planetarium (or, just a mini drabble of nervous, love sick ellie who doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants.)

warnings: nothing major but slight n$fw implied at the end, female reader, established relationship

notes: HIII sorry to have disappeared again, i come and go a lot it seems… but hope you have all been keeping well 🥹 its been one thing or another with writing about her, but i managed to afford this drabble so far! & yes, that is a mitski lyrics as a title because mitski and ellie make me rabid in the strangest way… anyways, enjoy :-]

Imagine Modern!Ellie who is girlishly overstrung when she decides (against her own worriments) to ask you out on another date (despite already dating you). It’s a sweet excursion on her part, messy and lovesick as she is — jots down possible locations on parchment paper, wrests with the idea of a planetarium or a museum (broods about which idea will bore you the most) when finally, she decides for letting it slip into conversation.

It won’t be entirely [add any synonym for confident here] at first — just a little “I’ve been thinking…” beating through the minor hues of the day. Washing dishes? She’ll sneak up behind you, latch an arm by the hip and press kisses where you cannot discern them from neck or throat, uttering a little “Mmm… you free this weekend?” so that you’re caught off guard softly, mentally procuring which days your off and which days you’re catching up on intrinsic amounts of work, away from her and away from comfort.

The second attempt is more feasible than the first, where she brings up words rather than ideas at the dining table. A chew around her food, and she’s talking again — “A planetarium is, like, amazing. Babe, you have got to see one in person,” she scoops food into her mouth, like a hollow attempt at shutting herself up, “It’s… amazing. Really.”

The last moment is in bed, close to sleep where she’s perched against your back. Her fingers graze the upturn of your belly, warm and gentle and the moment you feel the least bit sleepy, her blood hot sigh is in your ear already and you come to turn to her, more questions in you than patience.

“Ellie.”

“Mhm?” A good act at apathy, but not good enough.

“I know you’re awake.”

“I am now, babe.”

“Baby, do you want to ask me anything?”

Your feel her fingers tighten just the least bit against your belly, her left coming to still against your thigh. Ah, you’ve hit your mark.

“You think?”

“Ellie.”

Her silence is loud, deafening. Her mouth slotted against the back of your neck, her proximity is beautiful, too, in the pulse of her hesitance.

“Will you… go out on a date with me?”

A pause. Minuscule, barely counted.

“Ellie, we’re dating.”

“Yes, I know, babe. But it’s a planetarium. Space stuff. I don’t wanna… I don’t know, bore you. I just—“

Her fingers clutch the shallow edge of your jumper and pull at the deft strings that show, nervous suddenly. You find that beautiful, too. Whatever messy thoughts that trouble her become your own at touch, and with the weight of your fingers against the back of her hand, she looks up with surprise.

“You know I’d love to do on a date with you,” you press a chaste kiss to her palm, feel with gaiety how her pulse spikes and smelts, “I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you?”

“You can teach me what makes a planetarium. What you find interesting. What you find boring. Whatever. Ellie, you know I’d literally give up anything for you, right?”

And suddenly, her eyes lighten and take on a softer shade, bruises of the same hue as she stares at your mouth, comes down to kiss it deeply and breathe you in fully.

“Are you sure?” she asks, like the question is life and death itself, to which you can only nod because ofcourse you are sure. You would reach into the stick of your mouth and wrench your heart out for her to see, if it meant to be sure. And when you do nod excitedly, her smile is something that makes your stomach hurt cruelly, so well.

She kisses you again, then, mutters a “I love you. So fucking much,” and then, she’s teeming with vulnerability and excitement, her limbs tangling with your own, and a smile that is all teeth.

It makes you infectious with glee, wondrous with breathy chuckles, as you reach into the strands of her hair, “I love you more.”

And then,

“Tomorrow. 3 in the afternoon. Sounds like a deal?”

You begin to wrack your head for a mental schedule, purse your lips to see if you’re available tomorrow to be hers for the taking, but then her fingers are already looped twice into the lace of your undergarments, her breath slowly breaking against the soft spot of your neck. And her other hand sinks into the small of your back. And, finally, a quiet concession:

“D… Deal.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #the last of us x reader

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7-wonders · 3 months

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Time of Your Life

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XVIII)

Summary: It's something unpredictable, but in the end, it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

Word Count: 3.6k

A note from the author (it's a long one): "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" by Green Day has been on repeat while I wrote this final chapter for a couple of different reasons. While one will be revealed literally the moment you begin to read this final chapter, the other is for obvious reasons. We've reached the end of Mad Love.

I've spent more time than I should have thinking about the note that I would write to accompany this finale. This story started way back in 2019, born of one of my first one-shots that blew up. Though I had never planned to write anything beyond that original first chapter, people kept asking for a second part. Thus, Mad Love was born.

So much has happened in the five years since I began writing this, both within the story itself and within my life. I've graduated college, started a new job, moved cities and slowly learned how to become an adult. Through it all, there's always been this story to come back to. No matter what got in my way of releasing the next chapter, or how long the breaks between releases were, there were always readers just as excited to learn what was going on with Michael and Reader as I was to write it.

My thanks to anybody who's ever read this story, and my endless gratitude to those who have liked, commented, and reblogged throughout the years. I've fondly read everything left in the tags, from the quickest of keysmashes to the most thought-out notes. The support of my readers was, sometimes, the only reason I chose to write and update, especially in the last couple of years when my interest in this fandom waned. You've seen this story through the highs and lows, and you've seen me, the author, through the highs and lows.

With the end of this story comes the end of my time writing for Michael Langdon, and I'll miss him so much. He was the reason I started this blog in the first place, and getting to get inside his head has been such a benefit in my growth as a writer. Thank you for everything, Michael, you awkward, puppydog Antichrist.

For the last time, I sincerely hope that you enjoy, and remember that likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round.

Mad Love Masterlist

Seven months later

“Smile!”

It’s a phrase you’ve heard innumerable times today, whether directed at you or overheard among the groups that comprise the hundreds, if not thousands, of people gathered. Though you’ve been directed to smile a number of times today, and that doesn’t show any signs of stopping, you doubt you’ll end up being annoyed. After all, how could you be annoyed on one of the best days of your life?

Your arm tightens around Kate and vice versa as you both do what’s asked and smile brightly for the camera. It’s a bit awkward, having to figure out how to hold your diplomas with one hand while simultaneously trying to keep your mortarboards from hitting, but you make it work. Once Kate’s step-mom flashes a thumbs up, Kate insists on one more, and you giggle as she kisses your cheek.

“Mallory, get in a picture with them!” Brennan, standing off to the side, urges.

“Even though I’m not a graduate?” she asks teasingly.

“Still a bestie,” Kate retorts, wiggling her fingers in Mallory’s direction. “C’mere!”

She fits herself between you and Kate, the missing puzzle piece to your trio, as the three of you pose once more. Mallory will get her own graduation day soon—she only needs another semester of credits to graduate, and plans on returning to school in the fall to finish her English degree. There have already been plans discussed of how you’ll celebrate her own accomplishment, but she’s insisted that talk of this can wait. Today, she said, is for you.

And today, you’re so, so happy.

Sometimes, you never thought that you would actually see graduation day. Between the routine breakdowns every semester that made you ponder why you actually wanted your degree and how weird and supernatural your life had become in the latter two years of your post-secondary education, graduation seemed so distant, like a barely achievable fantasy. But in the blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting among your peers and listening to the same type of cheesy “this is where your life begins” speech that you heard at your high school graduation a few years prior.

This graduation is so much sweeter though, because you had to work for this degree. Through the late nights and tears, the well-researched essays and the hastily finished group projects (the bane of your existence), the relationship drama and the threat of apocalypse—you persevered, despite it all. You earned this accomplishment. This time around, the speeches sounded so much more inspirational, the air filled with more excitement, and the celebrations more deserved.

The best part of the ceremony? Walking across the stage to receive your diploma and looking into the crowd to see Michael standing and cheering with your family, tears in his eyes and a grin on his face. When you waved at him, his smile had somehow grown, and he whistled loudly.

Now, you eagerly search the faces of those streaming around you outside, hoping to see someone familiar. While you found your family right away after the ceremony officially concluded, Michael split off from them for a bit, making you wait to find the one person you wanted to see most. When you finally see your favorite pair of blue eyes, you peel off of Kate and Mallory and run to him. Michael opens his arms and happily wraps you up in a hug, the both of you swaying from side to side.

“Well?” he finally says, pulling away from you to fix your mortarboard, knocked out of place when it hit his forehead. “How’s it feel, graduate?”

“Feels pretty damn good,” you declare, flipping open your diploma and gazing down at it proudly. Your name and your major are written ornately, declaring that you’ve fulfilled the requirements of your degree. Michael kisses your cheek as he looks it over, tracing the engraving of your school’s crest on the inside cover.

“I’m so proud of you.”

You become unexpectedly emotional at this, tears pricking your eyes for the first time today (honestly, you thought this would happen sooner) and your throat growing tight. While you know that he’s proud of you all the time, hearing it on the occasion of the biggest accomplishment of your life so far makes it extra special. “Thanks, love.”

He kisses you chastely, acutely aware of the fact that your family is watching. It’s sweet, how eager he is to impress them. You’ve told him multiple times that he doesn’t need to try—he succeeded at making them like him from the get-go, simply due to how he treats you. Michael, of course, didn’t grow up with any idea of what a semi-healthy family dynamic is, and still believes that he needs to continually earn their approval. It’s a stark difference from the Michael that he was veering towards becoming a few short months ago, and you’re so thankful for it.

He wasn’t lying that night in New Orleans when he said things would be different from that point on, and that included his attitude.

Even after your return from your fall trip, as Michael officially put a stop to the apocalypse plans and started charming and convincing investors and Cooperative members alike into believing that Satan’s will had changed, you could tell that there was something weighing heavily on him. It was in the way that he looked at and acted toward you, the way that he hugged you in the morning and held you at night—like he was so worried that he was going to lose you, or like you would disappear if he looked away for too long. After asking him time and time again what was wrong, only to receive the same answer, that he was fine, you finally sat him down and asked for the truth.

“Honesty, remember?” you said. “We promised that we were going to communicate now.”

Michael considered what he was going to say for a while. You sat in silence with him for almost twenty minutes, holding his hands in yours and waiting patiently for him to gather his courage. Finally, he spoke.

“I saw the future,” he said. “The future that would have happened if I actually ended the world. It was a complete wasteland, devoid of almost all life. Those who survived the initial fallout were riddled with tumors and sores from the toxic air. They did terrible things—stealing, murder, cannibalism—just to survive. Nothing, though, was as terrible as me. I became…a monster. Someone cruel, someone evil, who enjoyed playing with the lives of those left like they were nothing but puppets. The only thing that I cared about was my father’s approval, and with the world ended and depravity everywhere, he encouraged me to lean into that depravity.”

Michael stopped when he became choked up, and his hands began to shake. One of your hands went to his cheek in comfort, only for him to let out a sad, distressed sound at the act.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“In that future, you—you died,” Michael blurted out.

“I did?”

He nodded as tears began to run down his face and make his eyes look impossibly bigger. “You died, and I couldn’t save you. I was too late, and left with nothing but your corpse. The image has haunted me ever since I saw it. When I look at you, all I can see is how lifeless you looked in my arms.”

It made sense, then, why Michael treated you the way he did. If you had a vivid image of the future, one where he was dead and you were forced to bear witness to it, you’d likely have acted the same way. To see him in this much pain over what he witnessed hurt you in turn. Sniffing back tears to try and remain the strong one (because Michael needed comfort in that moment much more than you did), you took his hand and placed it on the side of your neck.

“Do you feel my pulse, thrumming away under your fingers?” you asked, waiting for him to nod before moving his hand to your chest. “Feel my breathing? I’m not dead. I’m here, alive, and with you. And if I have it my way, I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael pulled you to him, and you straddled his lap in order to get as close to him as possible. If it took you plastering yourself to him in order for him to hear the truth in your words, then you were going to glue him.

“Yes, you saw a future where I died. But what matters is that this isn’t our future. Our future is this one, where you’re changing your path to ensure nothing like that happens. And it won’t, okay?”

It’s taken a lot of work and reassurance to get Michael to believe that the future you were on a crash course for is no longer even an option. With Satan’s recent acceptance of Michael’s alternate plan—“the long game,” Michael likes to call it—he’s finally starting to come around.

“There he is!” Kate says triumphantly when you pull Michael back to your group. “We thought you got lost.”

Michael smiles. “I was just taking my time.” He turns to Brennan and grins, abandoning holding your hand so that he can greet his friend (his friend! Michael has a friend!) with a hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, man!” The joy on his face at Michael, notoriously not the best at touching, initiating a hug is evident, and you and Kate share a fond look over your respective boyfriends’ shoulders. Never did you think that your sheltered, half-demon husband would become good friends with a self-described frat bro, but stranger things have happened.

“Are you guys coming to the bonfire tonight?” Brennan and a couple of his closest Lambda Chi brothers had planned a farewell beach bonfire for tonight. It’s supposed to be pretty lowkey, according to Kate, with maybe thirty people at most—rookie numbers for an event hosted by Brennan, but ones that make the event more appealing after a long weekend of graduation festivities.

You shrug. “Maybe. We’re going to dinner with my family after this, so I’m not sure how long it’ll take or how peopled-out we’ll be.”

“Oh, you have to come!” Kate pleads. “What if this is our last night all together?”

“It’s not going to be! We have plenty more adventures in store,” you assure her. After all, it’s not like she and Brennan are going anywhere yet, not with Brennan finding an engineering job in the area and Kate getting a job offer out of her internship.

“But you and Michael are going to Europe in a month, and by the time you get back summer’s basically over and you’ll be off to grad school.”

You smile at the reminder of what’s in store for you. Michael was finally making good on his promise to sweep you off your feet with the “date” of a lifetime. Greece, Italy, England, and France were on the docket for your European adventure, but one of the perks of having an Antichrist husband who controls the world’s most powerful people is that you can change your plans to whatever you want them to be.

And grad school! While you’re excited to be in a new area, and to continue your studies in a field you love so dearly, you’re most excited for Michael’s future. In addition to what he’s already been doing with the Cooperative, he’s also planning on taking a couple of classes at the same school that you’re attending to find a major he’s passionate about. His orientation day is the same as yours, and you’re a little too excited that you’ll get to take your student ID pictures together. For the first time in a long time, Michael seems happy and excited for what’s in store. As for you, you couldn’t be more thrilled that he’s discovering who he is outside of being Satan’s son, which is all you’ve ever wanted for him.

“You said it yourself though, Europe’s not for a whole month!” you say to try and cheer Kate up.

She pouts and drags Mallory to her after a moment of thought. “Okay, but Mallory goes home tomorrow night! What if that’s it for us?”

It won’t be, since you and Kate literally have the tickets already booked for a trip to see Mallory in New Orleans before school starts in August. But despite your best efforts, the nostalgia gets to you. This likely will be the last time all three of you get to hang out together here, at the school where you all met. The longer you go without speaking, the wider Kate’s smile grows. Oh, she knows you too well!

Luckily, you’re saved by a member of your family grabbing your arm. “We’re going to head back to our hotel to get ready for dinner. We’ll meet you in an hour, alright?”

You smile and nod. “Alright, love you!”

Hugs are given to both you and Michael (who still looks delightfully pleased that these people don’t all hate him simply by virtue of him being alive) before they split off. The conversation with Kate is forgotten for the moment as you make the rounds with some of your other friends, going through the routine of congratulating and smiling for pictures over and over again.

“We should probably get out of here if we want to be on time for dinner,” Michael eventually says into your ear.

You nod after checking your watch to see that he’s right and head over to Kate, wrapping your arms around her from behind in an attempt to scare her. Instead, she just laughs and turns around so that she’s facing you.

“Hey, we’re leaving,” you tell her.

“But we’ll see you tonight, right?” she asks hopefully.

“I don’t know.”

“Please?” Kate’s eyes grow wide, and she clasps her hands in front of her. “Please please please?”

You sigh. “We’ll see…”

Naturally, you end up sitting in the car next to Michael as you pull up to the location Kate sent you at that damn beach.

The sun’s just barely set, the horizon still a light yellow as the last rays of light try to cling on before giving way completely to the night. It silhouettes the scene below, where your friends are clustered in loose groups around the fire that’s already going strong. Their laughter, along with music playing from a speaker someone must have brought with them, can be heard even up here, at least a hundred feet away. It makes you eager to join them, and you reach into the back seat to grab the bag that you packed with a large blanket, some drinks (both with and without alcohol, for wherever the night leads you), and a couple of snacks.

“You made it!” Mallory cheers when you and Michael walk hand in hand to the group, Kate jumping up to hug you like it’s been years since she’s last seen you—one of your favorite traits about her.

“What can I say? Someone’s pretty convincing,” you tease.

Kate laughs triumphantly. “Damn right, I am. C’mon! Have a seat.”

Doing as she says, you spread out the blanket next to Kate, Brennan, and Mallory, lay your drinks and food out so that they can be shared, and get comfortable.

The night passes like most get-togethers with your friends do: with lots of laughter. And when there’s not laughing, there’s talking. The topics range from anything to everything—the simultaneous feelings of excitement and fear at what’s next, sharing memes, updates on job hunts, new music recommendations. Being able to fit fifty different conversations into one hours-long period is one of your (many) favorite things about your friends. You, Kate, and Mallory eventually end up on the topic of your Europe trip, both wanting to know all of the details now that you’ve gotten it mostly planned.

“How are you going about the Greece portion?” Kate asks.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Kate fumbles for a moment, unable to find the words. “Mal, help me out here.”

Mallory nods, apparently knowing exactly what Kate means. “You know, are you going to look at all the history and culture, explore some ruins and visit museums? Or are you going to live out your Mamma Mia fantasies, endless days spent on the beach, swimming in the crystal blue ocean, and,” she casts a look at Michael, currently chatting with Brennan and Jack, before waggling her eyebrows, “dot dot dot?”

You and Kate both laugh, with Mallory joining you after a moment of trying to keep up her straight face. “How long have you been holding on to that one?”

“Actually, only when Kate tossed the question to me.” She shrugs and sighs. “It’s hard being a comedic genius, but somebody’s got to do it.”

“But for real!” Before Kate can ask you the question again, another song starts up and she lets out a pleasantly surprised shout. When she looks at Brennan to get his attention, he’s already looking back at her. “Of course, you snuck this song onto the playlist.”

“I had to,” he says bashfully. “Beach bonfires get me feeling all sentimental.”

“We met at a beach bonfire,” Kate says to you and Mallory. “Labor Day weekend of our sophomore year! This song comes on, and suddenly I find myself talking to a guy who also thinks Perks of Being a Wallflower is one of the few movie adaptations that’s just as good as the book.”

“How did I not know that!” Mallory exclaims.

“Brennan, you’re such a sap,” you tease.

“Only for my lady love.” He crawls over and kisses her, so naturally it’s your and Mallory’s duty as her best friends to gag when he does so. “So? May I have this dance?”

Kate goes along happily, allowing Brennan to pull her up and spinning with him in the sand. Michael joins you now that his conversation’s been broken up, settling back down on your blanket and pulling you against him so that your back is to his chest. You both watch your friends dance for a bit, a few others on the opposite end of the fire getting up to join them.

“Do you ever think about it?” Michael asks you, bringing your attention away from the scene in front of you.

You look at him curiously. “Think about what?”

“How we would have met if I wasn’t who I am. What our life would have been like.” He smiles, a slight movement tinged with self-deprecation, and takes a drink of his water before continuing. “I do. In my head, we met on the first day of class. It was probably some gen ed—English, I usually imagine. I would have sat next to you because it was the only empty seat left, and by the end of the second week, I would be asking you for help since I’m not the best at writing. We probably would have started out as friends before I got up the courage to ask you out on a date.”

“That does sound nice,” you admit.

Though you won’t say it aloud, sometimes you’ve thought the exact same thing. How, if he was just a regular guy, your love story would have been something simple, something normal. You never would have been kidnapped (twice), or poisoned by Satan, or forced to marry the Antichrist, falling in love with him despite your very best efforts. You wouldn’t have had to spend so much time and energy worrying about the world ending while trying to figure out how you, a mortal with no sort of powers, could stop it. There wouldn’t be some alternate future out there where the world did end and you died, according to Michael, a painful and traumatic death.

“You know what, though? If I had the chance, I don’t think I’d change our story.”

He looks at you in bewilderment. “Even after everything we’ve been through? After everything I’ve put you through?”

“Have the things that we’ve gone through been crazy and oftentimes fucked up? Yeah, absolutely. But for every bad, there’s been so much good.”

With Michael snapping for the first time and accidentally hitting you came going on your first “date” with him and learning that he really likes mint chocolate chip ice cream. When you were in the trenches after Dinah gave you the potion to reverse the effects of the poison apple, Michael never left your side and cared for you diligently until you woke up. The Cooperative meeting you attended, the one where you watched Michael incinerate a man with his mind, seemed a fair trade-off for getting to experience your senior homecoming with the man you love.

“I love all of you, Michael, demonic parts and all. If you weren’t the Antichrist, then you wouldn’t be the man that I love. So yeah, I’ll take everything we’ve been through. Because everything we’ve been through, we’ve done together.”

Michael’s laugh sounds surprised, as though he was waiting for you to reveal that you’ve been lying this whole time. “I love you too.”

While you and Michael had an impromptu heart-to-heart, more of your fellow beachgoers got up and started dancing as songs came and went. The song changes once more and this time Mallory jumps up with a whoop, grabbing Kate’s outstretched hand and spinning herself under it. As the two start to move with the beat of the song, they catch your eye and begin beckoning you over. Laughing, you shake your head and settle yourself more firmly against Michael.

“Aren’t you going to go dance?” he asks.

“No.” You smile and kiss him, happy to feel him smiling too. “I’d rather just stay here with you.”

It’s the truth, both for your current situation and for life in general. You don’t have the gift of divination like your husband and best friend—nor any powers at all—but you don’t need them. With Michael by your side, you already know that your future’s looking very bright.

•••

@ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @nsainmoonchild @redroses07

@xo-angel-ox @littleangel4996 @iamlivingforturner @thatonehumanbeing05 @codycrazy

@love-on-the-murder-scene @gabriella-aesthetic @radicalisopod

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #mad love musings #michael langdon imagines

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ourolite2 · 8 months

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⬭ 𓈒 ݁ mise en scène alhaitham + black ( chubby afab ) reader. one-shot coded! nsfw/smut. written in third person, male oral, sarcastic usage of "princess", switch! reader, dom! alhaitham, cock-warming, brat/brat tamer coded, lowkey bunny coded reader too, impact play, implied dacryphilia, edging, orgasm denial, slight degradation, not-so-slight condescension, overstim + sleepy aftercare fluff.

"𝒞'mon, babe." An annoyed tone overtook that of what was meant to be sultry, as Alhaitham glanced along another paragraph in his book while resting along the upper part of the grandiose bed, while his persistent lover eyed him from below. Her ass wiggled and bounced behind her like a cat prepared to pounce as she pressed him with redundant queries and testy teases. "Read my movements instead, hmm? Them pages ain't finna make you cum, you know that... Tuh.. Do you know that?"

Not caring much for a response to her question (particularly because she knew her boyfriend wouldn't grant her one), Y/n's plump, mocha lips resumed wrapping around the rose resembling tip, tasting his unasked-for arousal coat her tongue and pool at her throat as she filled herself to the brim with his warmth. Her cheeks sealed his sensitivity tight in her mouth like a butterfly in a honey trap, adding onto the analogy as she watched his fingers flutter across the next page of his book like fragile wings, knowing the rest of him was just as delicate and immobilized, despite his overall silence.

Randomized grunts of overwhelm were the only responses audible, though poorly disguised to be those of annoyance and inconvenience as Y/n restricted the lower space of his dick, squeezing and stroking around the supple skin and it's pulsating interior with her velour-like palm. Meanwhile her other hand trickled inchmeal up his thigh and trailed leisurely along his abdomen. The happy trail there tickled her fingers a bit, causing her to giggle with her mouth full, inevitably causing her two clement, cherubic cheeks to reverberate around the sage's repetitive twitches and innate jumps and shoves.

By now, it's evident that he's not processing a thing in this book, deduced by the slight part of his lips and the gentle pant relieving itself between them with every suck and squeeze she pressures him to undergo. The covers are nearly closed front to back and drifting out of his grip, likely willingly, but of course he has that uselessly immovable nature of his. Indurated in his dick as much as his head, he'd rather lift the book back up and pretend to still peruse his useless passages than pay praise or even scrutiny to Y/n, even knowing he could cum within the next three minutes. The man still dares to have the imprudence to utter meaningless teases in a scenario that should have him speechless and writhing.

"Expecting desperation from me only shows what you're trying to hide about yourself, princess." That sobriquet. Sarcasm or not... God, isn't he so attentive. Y/n hums around him, feeling that warm, sweet ache between her own pudgy thighs increase and leak between her brown lips. She's straight to the point in proving him right, huh? Needs more so much to the point where she's humping into that longing sensation ever so gently, not wanting to lose too much composure. Though such is merely fanciful as she begins senselessly imagining Alhaitham's two fingers poking her cute new panties to the side, prodding her sticky folds apart, and then rubbing ringlet motions over her pretty, puffy clit until she's squirming for release.

Her body takes more initiative than her literacy will allow her as she detaches from his sloppily glossed and veined dick, giggling so preciously as she crawls up toward Alhaitham and his fabricated glout. Leaning near his neck and taking hold of his book in the most grabby, demanding manner, Y/n tosses the band of papers and ink to the floor before moving his iconic headphones to his neck, resting the set out of the way as her lips graced the shell of his ear in a ticklish tone. "M' I desperate, smartie? That's it? Then if you're sure that's the case don't have me waitin' on you."

Judging by the way his model of a lover slips her own panties to the side in preparation, she's apparently taking it upon herself to decline seeking succor in patience and pleading. Aligning his blushed tip at her panting, slippery lips, Y/n lubricates his peachy skin with squelches and smacks from the pent up arousal dribbling helplessly toward her outer folds. "Since I need to continue my research, and vexing you will only be a hindrance to my progress, I guess as the Acting Grand Sage.." His mind swirled briefly around warm sin and temptation as he spoke, chuckling between a pause as he sunk his warm palms and spread fingers into her squishy love handles. Her aroma is as intoxicating as forbidden flowers on a Sunday morning, and that sweet delicacy her body owns is like putty in his hands. How could he not ponder over how bendable, mendable and breakable she must be under his influence? "Despite my busy schedule, I'll have to fit you in."

The tip licks along her soaked pussy, barely spreading it open as he takes his time to her obvious displeasure, before delving into her clenching hole and stroking himself into her with a firm hold on her hips, as if he's simply using her to beat his dick at whatever pace he prefers. However, Y/n has had him pent up for hours at work before, so he's really not so conveniently persuaded to indulge in her antics at the drop of a thigh garter. In actuality, he'll claim that he's doing this in order to shut her up, rather than for his own pleasure. In spite of this, he's beyond aware that she'll only become more of a drooling, huffing, blubbering show, yet he forces her up and down quicker and quicker, causing the saliva at the corner of her mouth to trail down her cheeks which jiggle so adorably with every bounce, matching the look of the rest of her rubenesque figure.

"S' better than a book, baby? Me? Yeah? Mhm?" Her voice is disrupted with irregular breaths and muttered fuck's, and drenched with the mellifluous taste of honey. It rolls so sweetly off the tongue that she just can't seem to shut the fuck up, and if she were to do so Alhaitham wasn't sure if he would be more pleased or distressed. She's so fucking tight around him, taking it upon herself to clench when she needs not and to run her hips in a circle to deepen the uncharacteristically ruby tinge on the tip of his nose and surely the entire head of his dick. It's pushing so deep, as if with every plunge she feels the warmth in her clit and her lips and her walls excel. So stimulated and torrid and glistening in speckles of sweat down her breasts, upon her neck, behind her knees-- it's as if she's already drenched, already full, already close. "Tell me I'm all you- fuck.. Fuck me- close! Baby, Alhai, m' need you, pl- fuck. Deep-deeper-!"

"Rarely a challenge, so I'm not surprised.." Aware of Y/n’s delirium and failure to remain coherent, he forces her into place on his lap, pulling her in deeper the more she gyrates around him in resistance. She’s still wiggling and whining, but his voice gives her goosebumps when he leans beside her ear to inquire on what she’ll do the next time he’s occupied. It's vital that Y/n answers. Alas, she’s stubborn.

He lands a smack to her ass as she replies with fidgety insolence: “Fuck you, fuck me, like this-,” She rotates her hips to demonstrate before beginning to hump forward and back due to her puffy, under-stimulated clit. “-Like this, like that, right.. right there.” Leaning over Alhaitham’s shoulder to catch her breath erratically right beside his ear is as draining as it sounds, not to mention the squelches and smacks coming from between her thighs. With every writhing motion the friction of her thighs, let alone the feeling of her ass plopping and slapping incessantly, is enough to make a grown man groan. At least it should be.

Rather than desperation, he’ll hit her ass again, rolling his neck slightly to relieve its stiffness and ease his impatience, as she muffled a whine in response. Inquiring on what the fuck he’s testing her for, Y/n pouts slightly while being expected to maintain eye contact with him, rather than complain and roll her eyes over the increased sting still permeating.

“Is the princess going to pout now? I’m sure I can exonerate your temperament problems if you can choose your next words carefully.” He speaks with ease, disregarding the discomfort of Y/n's position as his lover pulsates helplessly around him. He knows his words only enhance her agitation and poked out lip and puffed out cheeks as she clenches more than she'd likely admit. She's gripping onto his shoulders and contemplating wrapping her hands around his neck as she mumbles a curse and half an insult in response, followed by yet another spank. And another.. and another, and another, until her eyes are watering, until her eyelashes are fluttering, until one more hit could have tears dripping along those chubby little cheeks of hers. Holding her chin up with his thumb and forefinger to observe her sniveling, slobber-lipped face, Alhaitham- the 'sweetheart'- grants her the courtesy of wiping the drool away as it kisses the underside of her pretty, fat, carob hued lips. Though, it'd be sinfully uncharacteristic of him to hold any kindness and patience any higher than necessary, so he threatens her with what no bratty beloved wants to hear. "Hmm. You've had many poor attempts at behaving today.. Rather than lacing my words with rhetoric, I prefer speaking factually. I guess.. I just won't be able to reward you."

Nearly immediately, Y/n gyrated incessantly in retort, clawing at his shoulders while his fingers still held up her quivering lips and wrinkled chin. Due to his hands' proximity to her face, he found no other solution but to bluntly tap her cheek twice with the back of his hand. Though, when this didn't work, he pulled her off of him and slammed her back inside, allowing the impact to demonstrate what friction she's reprimanding for herself if she continues. Still having little to say in return to him, he strings along more words to chime through her fuzzy, hot little head instead. "On the topic of speaking factually, it's painfully clear that you're doing this because you enjoy being degraded and tamed. However, when your defiance starts to bore me, I'll just find something else to mess with, since you're obviously capable of fixing this yourself."

"So mean to me, Alhai.." She whines, sniveling more than before as her arousal leaks around him, still warm and suffocating- if not more than before. "Wanna be good, okay? I'll--" Amid her breathy claims, a trail of warning taps reverberate against her ass, followed by much harsher, louder smacks the more she whined and attempted to speak in between each landing. His hand was out of view behind her, but from the sting against his palm he knew it was less palid than rose-related. The only thing stopping her skin from being the same of course was the naturally deeper shade, though this couldn't eliminate the intensity of the aftermath. She attempts to ask what she did wrong through choked moans and apologetic sobs, and he's placidly alacritous to give her a reason.

"Didn't ask you if you'd be 'good', that's subjective to your definition of 'good'. What will Y/n do the next time the Acting Grand Sage is busy?"

Her mind and body are too overrun and overheated to think of a means to answer mistakenly; too dolorous and defiled to notice that she's begging him between her compliance to not interrupt him again. Words slurred with another trail of drool which Alhaitham doesn't bother wiping away, since it's already leaking against her bouncing tits and open neck as he begins fucking into her. A thrust more, quicker with every apology and plea, with every moan and whine and sign of gratitude. "Thank you, baby, thank you, thank you.. Fuck. S' good to me, s' much- fucking much-"

Squeezing him so tight, she can't help it. Making a mess on his thighs, coating a soapy white ring of cum around him- who's to say whose it belongs to? Perhaps it's self-explanatory; the head is dribbling and drooling with excessive pre-cum, rubbing off all over her gummy walls, provoking twitches to correlate with the heightened frequency of clenches and throbs from her pretty pussy. Can't keep it in, she knows that familiar warmth building at her clit and starting deep inside is so close to releasing, and Alhaitham doesn't take it as a deterrent to ease up, but as a motive to speed up. "This.. is a lot. You'll have to.. take it." His breaths interrupt him, followed by light groans, and that's what brings her over the fucking edge.

Convulsing and clenching, Y/n can't keep either of her fat fucking lips closed- not the ones dabbled in drool or the ones drenched in cum. She's begging him to slow down, feeling the orgasm overrun itself with pleasure and numb her walls and weaken her body. So relieved and exhausted, princess is still exerting broken, mellifluous noises from her tainted little mouth, which still has the taste of Alhaitham's dick residing within it. Does he care?

"Look at you. Proving yourself useful." He patronizingly compliments Y/n in her fucked out state, knowing she's hardly processing anything as his twitches and warm cum use your hole as he nears his own climax. He's so much more intense now. He's being selfish and inconsiderate, bucking his hips so harshly knowing you can barely manage any penetration at all in your state. The last thing he needed to hear was you whining and begging him to hurry up and cum, even demanding him to cum inside as to give your aching pussy a break as soon as possible. Baby, how could he say no? Rather, how could he stop himself? A trail of focused grunts muffle themselves in the crook of your neck as he feels himself finish; the warmth of his arousal rushing inside where it belongs, before leaking out due to you being too full to hold any more of him.

"That's a good girl." Y/n's head rested against Alhaitham's rising and falling chest as he complimented her once again, though she had become fatigued and hardly able to speak with her now sore throat. So much begging and retorting came at a price. Despite her exhaustion, she begins to roll off of him, awaiting the usual mutual aftercare and such, though he physically denies her procedure. Rather, he holds her steady and places his heavy hand on her head, silently gesturing her to stay close to him a while longer. "I'd like to avoid any disruptions, I still have three sections to review. Rest now.. if you move anywhere else I'll be prompted to clean up the mess immediately." As he states this, Alhaitham gently turns to reach for his book, then whirles the pages toward the back of it as Y/n sighs against him and her breathing slows. He's lucky she doesn't have the least bit of energy left to argue on why taking care of her should be his first priority.

However, once she's fast asleep, the scholar cuts his reading-time a chapter short so he may begin his hidden objectives amid her unconscious state.

Gently moving her body along its side, knowing his remaining arousal and hers are bound to begin leaking beyond her pudgy folds, he wipes his thighs clean with a cloth before using her personal feminine wipes to clean off her clit. Then the tighter areas on either side of her hole, and every other area where she's managed to soak with her own magnificence. If she were awake, Alhaitham knew he wouldn't be able to take his sweet time, or have a few moments of serene silence to cherish her without obtrusion or movement of any sort. He needed this time for himself; to listen to how soft she breathes, to leave delicate butterfly kisses along her belly pudge, pussy pudge and all her rolls. To smile as he analyzes her cellulite and her lighter brown stretch marks, and traces his fingers along her hip dips, only finishing the moment by whispering sweet secrets about how he feels about her. Ones which he'd be too self-conscious and vulnerable to utter in even her presence without a slight alcohol intake as a means of excuse. Yet still, he's aware she already understands his emotions and his behavior, she somehow always knows what he's truly thinking and feeling; none of it is logical. Realistically, he can't fully compute why he behaves so secretive and shy about this himself, other than the cliche observation: love.

Well, she is the one he adores more than all under the sun and moon. His adored and adoring, no matter the amount of banter and brazen sarcasm they torture one another with through morning coffee and bed-time routines. As he slides on her favorite, stretchy shorts and ties a bow on the side of her now-secured bonnet (he found the side bow to be incredibly more adorable), Alhaitham kisses her forehead and cheeks in another attempt to show how much he loves her, wondering if it'll translate in her dreams. Words often fall short, he knows, and perhaps that's why he's not so sensitive with how he uses them, but his actions will never falter in showing how much devotion he holds for her.

Sliding beneath the emerald and aureate sheets of their shared bed, the man can't help but chuckle from knowing how Y/n's certain to complain in the morning, only before realizing she in fact was taken care of, with his book still rightfully neglected. "It's every day with you, isn't it, princess?" Before nodding off in dreamy thoughts and an uncharacteristically reminiscent imagination, her beloved finally dims the light and rolls on his own side, knowing he'll be playing fox and bunny once again with her tomorrow, and forevermore.

⑅ leman productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

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justanotherblogger · 1 month

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Small Tang Ramble

Right now, I have started rewatching the entire Lego Monkie Kid series from the start while I wait to see the recent season 5 episodes (that I was suckerpunched with when scrolling through Tumblr and having some stuff spoiled whene I didnt even think a new season would come for at least a few more months).

Then, when I finally got to season 4, I noticed something interesting with how they handle Tang's powers.

At the start of the season, it's revealed that Tang's cheat sheet, given to him by Azure Lion, was something that supposedly should've been helpful to someone "mysticly powerful, comparable to the Great Monk, Tang Sanzang", then the sheet should be a piece of cake so to speak.

Then we see how Tang struggles and has a hard time finding where his friends are located, but then a Golden Cicada helps him to find Pigsy, which was the same one that flew around the Samadhi Fire ritual site when Mei had it reunited within her.

That's not my topic right now, though, so I'll just skip the "random destiny bugs" (name given to me by a friend), and keep going towards my main point.

Anyways, skipping a few episode to when the meet the Great Master (I forgot the guys name), we see how Tang got berated for his lack of courage and work ethic. Then Tang and the rest of the gang are put to train, and I'm not exactly sure on how long they were in training for, but I'm going to assume a few hours at the sky visibly got darker near the end of the montage.

(I'm pretty sure that something akin to a stop in time for them to train would have been stated in the show itself if that was an explanation for how long they have been training for, so I'm gonna rule out any sort of "checkpoint" or "rest stop" rules here, like when you can stay in a safe space for whatever amount of time and come out with little time passed afterwards.)

The reason why I'm talking about how long they've trained for, is because after (what I assume) is a few hours, Tang is able to teleport a WHOLE AIR BALLOON, RIGHT ON TOP OF WHERE THEY NEEDED TO BE, WITHOUT HIS STAFF NO LESS.

*ahem* We know Tang had struggled with the teleportation magic from the beginning, even with his staff along with only transporting 3 people, and the magic level required to do so is comparable to the Monk, who is very powerful considering what we've seen in how his training was revered by the great master for being extensive plus how the Monk focussed only on his studies, and in-show examples. (Ex. Releasing the heavenly seal put on monkey king singehandedly, sealing the Samadhi Fire along with three others, then also Sealing the Lady Bone Demon to where she can only escape through her self reflecting or a rare, mystical key, etc)

I'm just saying how it's very impressive how Tang could go from barely being able to teleport accurately with 3 people, the staff in hand, to figuring out how to teleport accurately, how to teleport something as big as an airship, and then gaining enough focus/mystic power to do the teleport without his staff for this first time shown in the show. And remember this: all of this growth was in, at most, half a day.

And we know how long the Great Monk had to study to get to where he was, "learning everything there was to learn" with him blocking out anything else to focus purely on his studies to get where he was, and yes, he probably studied more than just the teleportation magic in his time, but Azure said it himself, that someone "mysticly powerful, comparable to the Great Monk, Tang Sanzang" should be able to figure out the cheet sheet, or at least versed in the mystical topic.

I already showcased how much work is really needed through that comment, but then Azure showed it again in his comment of "if hes learned it in the mystical arts.." describing how this would have needed to be taught like how they gang were forced to with the Great Master. We already know how hard the training from the Great Master was to get even a fraction of Mk's power, and considering how heavily it's put on how the Monk only studied and studied when it was talked about, with the students in the flashback looking like the ones under the Great Master, I would assume learning the mystic arts takes a similar amount of time and effort.

And now that my points have been laid out, you guys get it when I was gobsmacked at how quickly Tang grew in the time with the Great Master, reiterating my point of how Tang was able to figure out HOW TO DO TELEPORT AND AIRSHIP WITHOUT THE CHEAT SHEET, WITH HIS BARE HANDS, IN A MATTER OF HOURS when it was heavily implied (from what interpreted) that doing something like this would take a considerable amount of time and training, even for the Monk as he was said to only focus on his studies to optimize his mystic abilities and to block any distractions.

And then to add to this, it was only ever shown in the show that Tang only read throughout the entire training session. Whenever we see him in the montage, it's him reading scrolls no matter what. We never see him practice, or even mimic any of the moves or exercise that I would assume would be on those scrolls for him to learn. Then, the first time he ever put those ideas he read about into practice after using the staff the entire time before and messing it up, he was able to make the transportation of the airship fast, accurate, and without the help of the staff entirely.

TLDR: Tang is either so good at cramming that he was able to shorten a good year of learning into a couple hours, or he's severely gifted in the mystic arts with the right training or examples. Either way, if you gave this man a week in the scroll library with some noodles and motivation from the Great Master, then I would assume he might actually become one of the most powerful characters LMK, given the time to do so. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#lmk tang #lmk #lego monkie kid #tang monkie kid #tang #rambles #ramblings #idk if this makes sense #just something I couldn’t stop thinking about ig #there are probably so many typos...

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starrykatamari · 4 months

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Saw Lore Contained Within SAW II: Flesh & Blood

Hello again!! I'm still Kris, and today I'm going to be showing you all the lore bits you can find through collecting case files and audio logs in the second third-person action game that was made for the Saw franchise. Once again I will only briefly be touching on the plot of the game itself since it only serves as a sequel to the gap-filling narrative of its predecessor.

Long post incoming, but if you're interested, let's begin! I wanna play (another) game...

TW: Sui mentions, SH mentions, canon-typical violence mentions and imagery, drug use mentions-- it's a Saw media, please be careful I love you.

Disclaimer: I will not be covering any material that is not directly relevant to the movie franchise this game is based on. If it’s in the game and you don’t see it here, it’s skippable, I promise. This post will also have less trap and film references simply due to the fact that they are mostly just repeats of the first game’s.

The plot to this game revolves around Michael Tapp, David Tapp’s son. He is a journalist, and the person who leaked David’s police negligence on the Jigsaw Killer case to the press. He is kidnapped, put into one of the Jigsaw Killer’s games, and pitted against those David Tapp arrested during his career. He must also save certain individuals while navigating the maze of traps and tests. This game is a direct continuation of the ending to the first game in which David Tapp takes his own life in his apartment. Again, this is a gap-filler of a story, we’re here mostly to talk about the references to the movie and the lore the case files give to us. Let’s begin!

Case File: The Right Choice

A memo apparently written by Detective David Tapp, in reference to the events of Saw (2004). For reference, most of these case files are written by David Tapp– but I’ll keep writing that in so that it continues to be easy to follow.

“I met the Jigsaw Killer, and I let him escape. His price was too high. And I was too weak.

Jigsaw was holding Gordon’s family hostage at gunpoint. Shots were fired, and I ran over to respond. If I hadn’t been in the next building…I don’t know what would’ve happened. We had a shootout in Gordon’s apartment, then Jigsaw escaped and I gave chase.

Jigsaw was a short man with brown hair, large blue eyes. I gave a render to the officer that found me after I was released from that hellhole, Whitehurst. Jigsaw trapped me there…he did…horrible things. In the end, he made me choose; give up chasing him so that others may live, or continue pursuit and watch them die. I gave up the chase.

I don’t know if I made the right choice.”

The Whitehurst in question refers to the asylum the first game took place in, in case that wasn’t clear.

Case File: Team Members: Kerry

A memo written by David Tapp about Kerry.

“Allison Kerry - I’ve heard stories about how she screwed her way to a detective shield, but that is most likely gossip. Gorgeous, though. She seems sharp enough, maybe a little too flirty with the other detectives. Her file says she’s applied to FBI a couple times, but they haven’t gotten back to her. May need to watch her as a potential leak.”

Case File: Team Members: Sing

A memo written by David Tapp about Sing.

“Steven Sing - I’ve worked with Sing before on the Bilson murders, and he’s the best cop I know. He knows the job, never quits, and has unerring focus. If there’s anything I would say I don’t like about him, it’s that he tends to drink more than most. Doesn’t seem to affect his judgment though. Looking forward to working with him.”

Case File: Team Members: Hoffman

A memo written by David Tapp about Hoffman.

“Mark Hoffman - This guy is pretty quiet, sort of an introvert. Good for unpaid overtime hours, willing to do the busy work. May want to keep him out of the field though; he’s a straight arrow, and won’t be willing to bend the rules.”

Audio Tape: Assignment

Voice of David Tapp about the murder of Cecil Adams and the beginning of the Jigsaw Killer case.

“Chief Jacobs put me on a murder today that I just can’t seem to wrap my head around. I’m hoping that keeping track of the case using this journal will help organize my thoughts, keep me sharp. I’ve worked plenty of murders before, but this one is different.

Victim is Cecil Adams, a typical drug addict asshole by all accounts. He was found tangled up in razor wire, cause of death is exsanguination (AN: blood loss). The murder weapon was a frame to which the razor wire was wound, and it looks like he was thrown into the tangle of razor wire. The more he struggled, the more the wire constricted and cut him. I would most likely conclude this was some sick gang violence, if it wasn’t for two outlying variables.

First, the victim had eight straight incisions on his face, atypical of injuries sustained by razor wire. They are clean blade wounds, but all eight are perfectly parallel across the face. This leads me to believe that the wounds were industrial by nature, which doesn’t fit any gang modus operandi I’ve ever seen.

Second, the victim had a piece of flesh missing from his upper left shoulder. Since the body was in such bad shape, we missed it on initial examination. The missing flesh was cut out in the shape of a jigsaw puzzle piece.”

Case File: Paul Leahy

A memo written by David Tapp about the murder of Paul Leahy.

“Another victim, this one named Paul Leahy. Jigsaw left behind a tape, some bullshit about how Leahy cut himself and how he has to cut himself to escape the razor wire cage. Looks like Leahy didn’t have much choice in the matter; none of us could see a clear way through the wire.

The killing cage looks very similar to what killed Cecil Adams - I’m having Hoffman check into what kind of razor wire they both used.”

Case File: Amanda Young

A memo written by David Tapp about Amanda Young and her test

“Someone survived one of Jigsaw’s sick games. Her name is Amanda Young, a junkie. No known address or family. She’s still recovering from shock, but what she has given us is substantial. Everything about this one was different.

Jigsaw’s usual audio tape was replaced by a videotape. He is speaking through a carved wooden puppet that we later found sitting on a toy tricycle within the crime scene. Sing thinks the reason he used a video and puppet this time was to show off what would happen to Amanda if she didn’t unlock her device in time.

By Young’s account, her ‘test’ involved the murder of a man named Donald Greco. She stated that she had to cut open Greco’s abdomen to find a key hidden somewhere in his small intestine. No body was found, but Greco was identified by blood evidence found at the crime scene. Frankly, Young is covered either way with a duress defense - her life was definitely in danger.”

Trap Reference: Razor Box

A clear reference to the same trap from Saw II! Only this time the victim has to turn cubes to arrange numbers into a code (given by Michael from another room).

Audio Tape: Reverse Bear Trap

Voice of David Tapp about the device used to test Amanda.

“The Jigsaw device unlocked by Amanda Young is different from his other killings. This device, what he describes as a ‘Reverse Bear Trap’, is mechanically more complex than what we’ve seen so far. The design is elegant. There’s no other word for it. Elegant. It’s a hinged retractor, spring-loaded with enough force to wrench open the victim’s jaw well past the tearing point. I’ve studied it so much by this point I wouldn’t even need the key to release it.”

Case File: Seth Baxter

A memo written by David Tapp about Seth Baxter’s murder.

“I.D. came back on a victim, name is Seth Baxter. He was identified on the spot, in fact. Every cop in the department knew this scumbag - he killed Hoffman’s sister, got away with 5 years on a technicality. Looks like Jigsaw did us a favor for once.

Jigsaw’s devices are getting bigger, more technical. He built a giant pendulum this time, the blade of which slashed open Baxter’s gut. His hands were also crushed in what looks like two mechanical vices. I’m not sure how this one is supposed to work yet.

Hoffman isn’t taking the news well, and I guess I can understand why. He asked to avoid the crime scene, so I put him out to knock on doors.”

Quick aside here to note that I do like the choice of having Hoffman avoid the scene entirely rather than coming right face to face with it the way he does with Fisk in Saw V. It just makes more sense from a character standpoint. Although I do understand to a point that he’d want control over the scene.

Case File: Interrogation

A memo written by David Tapp about his and Detective Sing’s interrogation of Lawrence.

“Sing and I interrogated Gordon earlier this afternoon. Guy is definitely missing some bolts - I have pretty good instincts for these things. I brought in Amanda Young to recount her story in front of him, behind the two-way of course. Told Sing to observe him, see if there was any recognition, guilt, anything that would give him away. Sing said he seemed genuinely horrified, but I’m not so sure. He’s hiding something from us.

Could be his alibi, one of his students named Carla Song. She said Gordon was helping her setting IVs on patients for her rounds on the night in question. It’s not too crazy to think the family man is stepping outside his marriage with a student, is it?”

Case File: Following Amanda

A memo written by David Tapp about sending Hoffman to tail Amanda for information.

“I had Detective Hoffman follow Amanda Young home after she was released this morning. Station doc said she’s good to go, just a little shaken up. The DA isn’t going to press charges for the whole disemboweling element. She’s been through enough.

Hoffman’s report is pretty uneventful. Young got cleaned up at her shithole apartment, went down to the international District and looked like she was trying to score some drugs from a blonde with tattoos. The blonde in question happens to be an informant named Sarah Blalock, so she was very co-operative.”

Audio Tape: Dr. Lawrence Gordon

Voice of David Tapp about Lawrence’s penlight being found at a Jigsaw scene.

“Positive ID on the fingerprints came back as Dr. Lawrence Gordon. He’s an Oncologist, a cancer surgeon. He was in the system because of some trouble when he was 19; apparently he had a breakdown, had to be institutionalized for 6 months. His medical file is…chilling. White male, mid-to late thirties, obsession with human biology - checks all the boxes for a typical serial killer profile.

We’ve got a work address - I’m waiting on Sing to get back from Forensics and we’re going to pick him up for questioning.”

Again, worth mentioning here since I got an ask about Lawrence being the potential patient in the two redacted case files from the first game– Lawrence is canonically forty-six during the events of Saw (2004). I have no idea why they fudged this to mid-late thirties…it looks like they are either possibly trying to have us believe those medical files were for Lawrence when they were so clearly describing John, or moved his age back to fit the serial killer profile better (which does exist and is as Tapp described). Now, I am aware of the overlap in their general philosophy– it’s what makes Lawrence such a good and loyal apprentice– but some of the things in those files don’t describe what we see Gordon act like in Saw (2004). Just some food for thought. It could all be the writers on this game being devil-may-care about ages.

Bonus point that my husband put forth as I was writing this: why the hell would they redact Lawrence’s name on medical files? It’s gotta be John since Tapp’s game in the first entry to this videogame series revolved around his obsession with finding out who Jigsaw is. Anyway…

Case File: Jill Tuck

A memo written by David Tapp about Jill Tuck and her involvement with the case after reading Cecil’s journal (which detailed the events that lead to her losing Gideon).

“Finding the woman mentioned in Cecil Adams’ journal was fairly easy. What he did to her, to her unborn child…what a monster. There were only six reported assaults on females that night, and only one at a Free Clinic.

Suspect’s name is Dr. Jill Tuck. No spouse listed. Cursory search shows heavy community involvement, not surprising since she works at a Free Clinic. Revenge for the death of her unborn son is a possibility, but I don’t see her stalking Cecil for any length of time. Maybe look to a boyfriend or family member.

The ‘pig mask’ element mentioned by Cecil is also interesting. Celebrations for the Year of the Pig are going on in the International District. Pig mask used for camouflage, maybe? Or is there something more significant behind it?”

Case File: Gordon Surveillance

A memo written by David Tapp about sending Kerry to tail Lawrence.

“I put Detective Kerry on Gordon duty. Her reports have been pretty standard up to now - man works long hours, goes home to have a late dinner with his family, sleeps, and repeats. But there was an anomaly last night. He spent 30 minutes in his car with Carla Song. Nothing sexual, but definitely outside a healthy teacher-student relationship.

If Gordon is manipulating Carla Song, his alibi is no longer reliable. Gordon is back on the table as our chief suspect.”

Audio Tape: Jennings

Voice of David Tapp, about trying to get information on the case after he was officially taken off (due to his negligence causing Sing’s death in Saw (2004)).

“I got Jennings in a corner, tried to get some details on the case. Gotta give the guy credit, he stalled until Kerry turned me around and told me to back off. She basically cut my balls off, screaming at me about how I just need to let it go and that she’s the lead Detective now.

She’s young, she doesn’t understand. She can’t. I will never stop for what that bastard did to Sing.”

Case File: Hiring Adam

A memo written by David Tapp about hiring Adam to take pictures of Lawrence.

“I followed Dr. Gordon from his office last night, but he spotted me before he got where he was going. He knows my car, my face…I’m going to need outside help on this one. Bernie at the station mentioned a guy he used to catch his wife cheating on him…Adam something. I’ll give him a call.”

And honestly that’s all folks! This game is worse in quality than the first, but I really do recommend watching a no-commentary longplay of it just to have the experience. It’s pretty funny at the very least.

Just like before, if you have any questions or anything funny to share in reference to this game, PLEASE don't hesitate to send me an ask! I'm basically a font of knowledge about these two spinoff games. :)

Be kind to yourselves and remember to cherish your life (YOUR LIFE)!! Oh and happy pride!! Bye!!

#Saw #Sawposting #Saw Franchise #Saw II Flesh and Blood #John Kramer #Lawrence Gordon #Mark Hoffman #Allison Kerry #Kris txt #Adam Stanheight

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