#that within itself shows me that she's doing more than most around her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheriden · 4 months ago

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

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longing-for-rain · 8 months ago

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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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lipstickchainsaw · 28 days ago

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Act 3 mostly left behind the elements of the show that I was most interested in, and had the most to say about, but I do want to talk about episode 7, which was fucking gorgeous and extremely well done.

I've seen people say that the good timeline Ekko and Heimerdinger find themselves in is the result of Vi dying, as if this timeline is a Wonderful Life view to paint Vi as the 'real' jinx, but I don't think this makes sense (for one, I don't think this episode gives us a new perspective on Vi, and Vi isn't the one seeing this, so it isn't giving her a new perspective on herself, either).

No, the point of Ekko's half of this episode is to give him a new perspective on Jinx, by showing him who Powder could have been. Last season, he was the most prominent person to argue that Powder was dead, and that only Jinx remained within the girl he was once friends with. This is not an unreasonable position for him to hold, given that she's killed a bunch of his friends in the Firelights over the course of his resistance to Silco's regime.

But this girl he meets here is not Jinx, and when he sees her, he initially reacts with the same hostility he would to the one from his timeline. Even when he figures out that he's in a different timeline, he isn't able to get over that, to stop projecting the image of Jinx onto this young woman who's done nothing wrong and suddenly sees her boyfriend acting so cold and distant to her.

This culminates in him asking the (really insensitive regardless) question of whether she was the reason Vi died. He has so internalised the view of Powder as Jinx/as a jinx that anything having gone wrong must have been her.

But she shoots back that, really, that's on him way more than it is on her. It's downplayed in season 1, but Ekko is the one behind the inciting incident of the show. To wit, he rips Jayce off, charging him double for the stuff he's buying, and then sends his friends to rob the guy's place, little rascal that he is. It was a fun little prank for a kid to play on some rich idiot who could just bounce back from that anyway, right?

And then everything went horribly wrong! Ekko lost his mentor, his closest friends, one of whom came back different, as his home was turned into a twisted parody of itself, and he had to find himself a sanctuary from which to launch a resistance movement.

We're naturally drawn to compare this Powder and our Jinx, but I think the subtler difference here is between the two Ekkos. It doesn't get a ton of emphasis, but we see from the way the people around him respond to him that this Ekko was very different, too. He hasn't had to grow up way too fast, and take up way too many responsibilities for someone his age. He hasn't become as angry as the Ekko we know, hasn't had cause to rage against the many injustices of a system stacked against him on both sides.

This Ekko is a relaxed, content, brilliant and recognised for it, genius little inventor, with a beautiful girlfriend who loves and supports him in his endeavours, and a wider family looking out for him to prepare him to step into a wider world of great possibility.

The way he conceptualises himself, as a resistance leader, a fighter and a protector, a boy saviour, he isn't ontologically any of these things. He isn't condemned by fate to step into those roles, doesn't become them out of some innate characteristics he just has. He is that way because circumstances forced him to become that.

And the same is true for Powder, for Jinx. She isn't inherently a jinx, regardless of what anyone including she herself may believe. She isn't the manifestation of misfortune for all, and he knows this. When he took her down in S1e7, and Jinx showed the suicidal Powder inside of her, he recognised this, and it's what stopped him from killing her then (even if she tried to blow him up.)

Even in that episode, she confronts him about this, calling him 'the boy saviour' in a tone that's halfway to an accusation. 'Why didn't you save me?' is what she halfway chokes out, where was her saviour (much in the same tone she'd use for herself when announcing herself as 'your big fat hero', because she wasn't able to believe in that concept either)?

Neither of them was able to address the matter then, because Ekko was still reasonably upset about the people she killed, and Jinx was dealing with a lot of complicated feelings she was expressing with violence, but it's his time here, with this Powder that gets him to reconsider.

'I've never seen you give up on anything,' and all that.

It helps that he meets a different Jinx who is, with some effort, willing to let herself be saved without trying to kill the person saving her.

(And not to be too down on our Jinx, Vi's death clearly hit this Powder hard, and she never quite built up the confidence to pursue her own ideas as a result.)

#arcane #arcane spoilers #very long post

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illululusion · 1 year ago

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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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rafecamerons-national-anthem · 3 months ago

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𝒯𝒪 𝐵𝐸 𝒮𝐸𝐸𝒩-𝑅𝒜𝐹𝐸 𝒞𝒜𝑀𝐸𝑅𝒪𝒩

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

��𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Rafe Cameron, a charming yet rebellious Kook, finds himself drawn to Y/N, a spirited Pogue, at an upscale Pogue-Kook mixer. Despite the social boundaries between their worlds, the two form a connection through shared vulnerability and curiosity.

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

The party buzzed with the energy of the young and restless, the air thick with the scent of saltwater and the promise of secrets to be shared. Amongst the mingling crowd, Y/N, a beautiful and fiercely independent Pogue, caught his eye. Her eyes, a deep shade of ocean blue, searched the room with a hint of vulnerability that seemed to beckon him. She looked absolutely radiant in a simple sundress that clung to her curves just enough to make heads turn. Rafe felt an undeniable pull towards her, a mix of curiosity and a sudden desire to know her secrets.

As the night grew warmer, the music grew louder, and the stars above seemed to whisper sweet nothings to the lovers below. Rafe, never one to shy away from a challenge, approached Y/N with a cocktail in hand and a cheeky grin. He knew that Pogues and Kooks didn't often interact beyond the superficial, but something about her drew him in, making him want to break the unspoken rule that had governed their lives since childhood. They danced under the twinkling lights, her laughter as mesmerizing as the crashing waves in the distance.

"You know, Y/N," Rafe said, leaning in closer to be heard over the music, "you're the most beautiful Pogue I've ever seen at one of these parties."

Her cheeks flushed, and she took a sip of her drink, trying to play it cool. "Thanks, Rafe," she replied, her eyes sparkling. "But beauty isn't everything."

Rafe cocked his head to the side, intrigued by her candidness. "What do you mean?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze drifting to the horizon before meeting his again. "I mean, I've never…I've never felt the way I've heard others describe with their partners. It's like something's always missing."

Rafe's playful smile faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He knew the struggles Pogues faced when it came to love and pleasure, often being dismissed by the Kooks who saw them as mere playthings. He gently placed his hand on her arm, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. "You deserve to feel that connection, Y/N. It's not just about the physical. It's about finding someone who sees you, truly sees you."

They moved away from the crowded dance floor to a quieter spot beside the pool, where the only sounds were the gentle lapping of water and the distant serenade of a guitar. Rafe leaned against the railing, his eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me, what does it feel like for you?"

Y/N took another sip of her drink, gathering her thoughts. "It's… empty, I guess. Like I'm going through the motions, but never reaching that peak everyone talks about."

Rafe's gaze softened with understanding. He knew that feeling all too well, the frustration of a desire unfulfilled. He'd had his share of shallow relationships with Kook girls who didn't know the first thing about real passion. He leaned closer to her, his voice a comforting murmur. "Sex is about more than just the act itself. It's about connection, about intimacy. It's about being seen and heard."

Their conversation grew more intimate as the party swirled around them, their words hanging in the air like the scent of the nearby sea. Y/N felt something stir within her that she hadn't felt in a long time, hope. Maybe, just maybe, this Kook understood what she was going through. Rafe's hand brushed against hers, and she felt a spark that she hadn't felt with anyone before.

"I want to show you what it's like to be seen," Rafe whispered, his voice a gentle promise. "To be heard."

Y/N's heart raced at the implication of his words. She looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was kindness and a fierce determination. She felt a strange mix of excitement and fear, knowing that this moment could either be incredibly healing or incredibly awkward. But she also knew that she trusted him. So, she took a leap of faith and nodded. "Okay," she breathed.

Rafe led her to a secluded corner of the garden, where the only light was from the soft glow of the moon and the occasional flicker of fireflies. He stopped in front of a large, leafy bush that offered them privacy from prying eyes. Gently, he turned her to face him, placing his hands on her hips and looking into her eyes. "Just relax," he murmured. "We're going to take this slow."

He kissed her, not with the urgency of a boy trying to claim a prize, but with the tenderness of a man who truly cared. His lips moved slowly over hers, teasing and exploring, until she let out a soft sigh and melted into the embrace. His hands began to wander, tracing the curves of her body with a gentle touch that made her skin tingle. He untied the strings of her sundress, letting it fall to the ground, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Y/N felt a rush of nerves but also a strange sense of empowerment.

They laid down on the cool grass, the dew kissing their bare skin as Rafe peeled away his own shirt. He hovered over her, his eyes searching hers for consent before proceeding. She nodded, feeling more exposed than ever before, but also more alive. His touch grew more deliberate, his hands exploring her body with a finesse that she had never experienced. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, and the swell of her breasts, each touch sending a new wave of pleasure through her.

With a soft moan, Y/N arched her back, allowing him better access. Rafe took his time, his mouth leaving a trail of heat across her skin. His fingers danced over the lace of her underwear, and she could feel the wetness gathering between her thighs. He looked up at her, seeking permission, and she nodded, her cheeks flushed with desire. He slid her panties off, revealing her to the moon's tender gaze.

He eats her pussy with a hunger that was both surprising and incredibly arousing. His tongue traced the outline of her labia, tasting her sweetness, as his hands held her open for him. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt, his mouth was a symphony of sensations, alternating between gentle flicks and firm strokes. Y/N's hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer as she began to lose herself in the feeling. Rafe took his time, savoring her reactions as he explored every inch of her with his tongue.

"Oh god, Rafe," she moaned, her voice trembling.

His tongue delved deeper, circling her clit with the precision of a master artist, and she couldn't help but gasp. The pressure grew, the sensation building like the crescendo of a storm at sea. Her hips rocked against his mouth, desperately seeking release. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the sweet symphony of pleasure they were creating.

Rafe felt a surge of power knowing he was the first to give her this, to show her what it truly meant to be seen and appreciated. He slid a finger inside her, feeling her tightness clench around him. Her moans grew louder, more frantic, as he pumped gently in rhythm with his mouth. He could sense her approaching the edge, and he didn't want her to fall alone. He moved up her body, his cock now standing at attention, and pressed himself against her.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N nodded, unable to form coherent words. She was lost in the sensations that Rafe's skilled mouth and hands were creating within her. She felt her orgasm building like a wave ready to crash over her. He positioned himself at her entrance, and with one slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her.

The sensation was overwhelming. Her eyes rolled back as he filled her completely, his movements measured and purposeful. Rafe knew exactly what she needed, and he was determined to give it to her. He kissed her deeply, their tongues mimicking the rhythm of their bodies. His hand found her breast, teasing the nipple into a tight peak as he pushed into her again and again.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the first ripples of pleasure. It was as if he was unlocking something within her that had been trapped for so long. Each stroke brought her closer to the precipice, until she could no longer hold back. Her nails dug into his back as she arched off the ground, crying out his name. The orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

Rafe paused, watching her face as the pleasure ebbed and flowed. He waited for her to come back to him before he began to move again, his strokes deep and slow. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, words of praise and adoration that sent shivers down her spine. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect."

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as she met his rhythm. He felt the tension building in her body, the way her muscles tightened around him. He knew she was close again. With a gentle nip to her earlobe, he whispered, "Let go for me. I've got you."

Y/N's eyes flew open, the intensity of his gaze sending her over the edge. Her body convulsed with pleasure, and she screamed his name, the sound echoing through the garden. Rafe's own release followed, his body shuddering with the force of it. They stayed intertwined, panting and trembling, as the waves of pleasure subsided.

The silence that followed was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the only evidence of the earth-shattering moment they had just shared. Y/N looked up at Rafe, her eyes wide and filled with wonder. He smiled down at her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "How was that?"

Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "It was…it was more than I ever imagined."

Rafe chuckled softly, a sense of pride and satisfaction warming his chest. He kissed her forehead, feeling the rapid beat of her heart under his lips. "I'm glad I could show you, Y/N."

They lay there for a moment longer, their bodies still connected, until the chilly night air began to seep through their skin, reminding them that they weren't alone in the garden. Reluctantly, Rafe pulled out, his eyes never leaving hers as he helped her to her feet. They both took a moment to compose themselves, tucking in shirts and smoothing out dresses. Y/N felt a newfound sense of confidence as she straightened her clothes, a secret smile playing on her lips.

They returned to the party, weaving through the crowd as if nothing had happened. But everything had changed. The way they looked at each other, the electricity that arced between them, was undeniable. They danced again, this time with a shared understanding that went beyond words. Their movements were more fluid, their touches more lingering, as they allowed the music to carry them away.

The night grew late, the party winding down as the last of the guests stumbled home under the watchful eyes of the moon. Rafe and Y/N found themselves at the water's edge, the sound of the waves a gentle backdrop to their whispered confessions. The salty breeze played with their hair, mingling their scents as they stood there, lost in the aftermath of their shared secret.

Y/N leaned against Rafe, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely carrying over the whispers of the tide. "For making me feel…seen."

Rafe tightened his arms around her, his heart swelling with affection. "It was my pleasure," he said, his voice low and sincere. "But I think we've started something that can't be contained in just one night."

The implications of his words hung in the air, and Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. They had crossed a line, one that could either strengthen their bond or tear them apart in the harsh light of day. But she didn't want to think about that now. Not when she felt so alive and cherished in his arms.

Rafe kissed the top of her head, his hand caressing her bare shoulder. "Let's not think about tomorrow," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "Let's just enjoy tonight."

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to him. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the waves crashing against the shore a soothing lullaby. Rafe felt the tension in his body slowly dissolve as the warmth of her body seeped into his, and he knew that this was the closest he'd ever felt to someone from the Pogue side of the tracks.

Their conversation grew more intimate as the night deepened, sharing secrets and dreams that neither had ever dared to speak aloud. The divide between Kook and Pogue felt like it was slowly dissolving with every shared laugh and whispered confession. Y/N felt a sense of belonging, a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time.

Rafe's hand slid down her arm, his fingers intertwining with hers. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of excitement through her body. "Do you believe in fate?" he asked, his voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of the ocean.

Y/N looked up at him, the question catching her off-guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Rafe began, his voice filled with wonder, "do you think there's a reason we found each other tonight, out of all the people in this town?"

Y/N pondered his question, the stars above seemingly holding their breath as they waited for her answer. "I don't know if I believe in fate," she admitted, "but I do know that tonight was…special."

Rafe squeezed her hand gently. "It was," he agreed, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "But maybe it's not just fate. Maybe it's about breaking down walls and seeing each other for who we really are."

Y/N leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time. "Maybe," she murmured, her voice filled with a hint of hope. "But what happens when the sun comes up?"

Rafe sighed, the reality of their world intruding on their stolen moment. "We'll face it together," he assured her. "We're not like everyone else here. We're more than just Kooks and Pogues."

They stood, the sand sticking to their bare feet as they made their way back to the party. The vibe had shifted, the energy of the night morphing from wild and reckless to something softer, more intimate. They slipped back into the crowd, but the party felt different now. The lights were less blinding, the music less deafening. They had found their own rhythm together, one that didn't need the noise and chaos of the party to thrive.

#rafe obx #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x female reader #obx x reader #obx fic #rafe cameron smut

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rallamajoop · 10 months ago

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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 · 10 months ago

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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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mahoutoons · 2 months ago

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the women of death note deserve better

so i just finished death note. i have Thoughts about the show. some good, some bad. its not the type of show i'd usually watch but there was something in it that kept me watching. but there was one aspect of the show that bothered me to no end, one that made me consider dropping the show more than once. and that's its treatment of its female characters.

now i know shonen isn't exactly known for writing women well. this isn't to say ALL shonen is like that, but the more popular ones definitely have this problem. the women are either sidelined, reduced to love interests, or aren't allowed to reach their full potential, and this can really be seen in the women of death note. for a show that prides itself on having complex, layered characters with depths that keep people talking two decades later, it sure does drop the ball when it comes to writing women. so here i'm gonna go through all the women of death note and how they were done dirty. keep in mind this is all referring to the anime, i haven't read the manga.

naomi misora

starting off with the one that pissed me off the most. naomi had me intrigued from the moment she first appeared on screen. she was a former fbi agent who left her job because her asshole fiance convinced her it was too dangerous, and then blew off her suggestions (which ultimately lead to his death which. el oh fucking el). she was able to piece together that kira could control how his victims die. she could add a lot to the story given that she previously worked with L. she could've been a part of the task force and would help them piece together clues that would pin down kira. does she do all that? LOL NOPE. the writers decided she was too powerful and killed her off within two episodes of her introduction. now i know this is death note and a lot of characters die. but naomi's death pissed me off the most. here was a woman who had so much potential and could solve the case within two episodes and she's killed off. oh but at least she stars in a spinoff novel half the fandom won't read! isn't that just GREAT? look how much we love women guys!

yeah all this time later and i'm still pissed off about how they did her. naomi bby you deserve so much better.

misa amane

OH BOY GET READY FOR A BIG ONE. so misa was actually the reason i wanted to watch death note because she's fucking gorgeous. i didn't have many expectations about how she'd be written considering this is a popular shonen, but even then i was disappointed. misa is the main female character of death note. she's presented as the second kira who has shinigami eyes, which gives her the power to see a person's name and lifespan by looking at their face. she was saved by a shinigami who was in love with her and got his notebook, and her current shinigami rem (more on her next) also has feelings for her. she worships kira because he killed her parents' murderer. she finds out light is kira because her shinigami eyes don't allow her to see the lifespan of a death note owner and as such asks him to make her his girlfriend.

misa misa misa. my gorgeous goth girl. you deserved to be written so much better. a second kira who has shinigami eyes? she could've been so cool. but the writers made 90% of her personality revolve around light and treated her as this dumb, impulsive girl who worships the ground light walks on. and light doesn't even treat her that well. he just uses her and takes his frustrations out on her. oh, and don't get me started on this bullshit

look, i get that misa is a killer and had to be restrained. but WAS THIS FETISHY CRAP NECESSARY?? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE FUCKING CROTCH STRAP?? when light was imprisoned he wasn't tied up like THIS. this is just another case of shonen authors being fucking weirdos with their female characters.

and in the end she kills herself because light dies. instead of letting her heal and live her life the author decides "welp, the man we based 90% of misa's character on is dead, time to kill her off too". just absolute bullshit. she deserved so SO much better.

rem

rem, my gorgeous butch shinigami. she became my favourite character when she was introduced. i was actually surprised by how direct they were about her feelings for misa. i'd seen bits and pieces of remisa before and i thought it'd be one of those ships the writers dance around but they explicitly had her say she has feelings for misa. i was so surprised and happy at that. but of course, this is a popular shonen so i shouldn't have had high expectations. my problem with how they treated rem comes in her death. she dies after killing watari and L to extend misa's lifespan. if a shinigami extends a human's lifespan they die. now, i'm not gonna say her death is an example of bury your gays because gelus, the male shinigami who saved misa before, met the same fate. however, i will say its very Interesting that the only canonically lesbian character who explicitly declares her feelings for another woman dies BECAUSE of those feelings. and then she isn't even acknowledged by misa which is so weird considering how much rem helped her. there's no scene of misa even mentioning rem or mourning her death. she dies without anyone knowing. i do enjoy the doomed yuri aspect of remisa but i really do wish they'd have misa at least acknowledge rem's death.

wedy

wedy, aka merrie kenwood, is a spy who joins the task force in the yotsuba arc. she's an expert at getting through security and is crucial in helping pin down higuchi as kira as she's the one who installs the bugs in yotsuba's meeting room and higuchi's cars. another cool female character with a lot of potential. you know what that means. TIME TO KILL HER OFF! wedy doesn't get much screentime and then dies within eight episodes of her introduction. which is slightly better than naomi. but still. i won't say this is also a case of misogynistic writing as aiber also dies. however, there is a pattern of having a female character with potential, not giving her enough spotlight, and killing her off shortly after her debut.

sayu yagami

sayu, my poor bbygirl sayu. she's introduced as light's bubbly little sister. in the timeskip she goes to college. her most significant role is getting kidnapped so her father could give up the death note to mello's men, making her the classic damsel in distress. and the poor girl is so traumatized that she's in a catatonic state and has to be wheelchair bound and taken care of by her mother. oh, and there's also that weird comment matsuda makes about her which... really dude? sayu isn't AS badly done as she doesn't play much of a role beyond her kidnapping. but still, she also deserves so much better.

kiyomi takada

i didn't think i'd be as pissed off about how they did a female character as i did about naomi and misa but BOY they proved me wrong. takada was light's girlfriend in college but she doesn't play a major role until the timeskip where she becomes kira's spokesperson. like misa, she worships kira. she's happy when she finds out light is kira and would do anything for him. so another woman who worships the ground light walks on. how original. she's supposed to be smart but they never demonstrate it. and need i mention that rivalry between her and misa? making two women catty to each other over a man who isn't even all that, how very typical. but what pissed me off the most was her kidnapping. that scene where mello asks her to take off all her clothes, and then she's left with nothing but a blanket? so fucking weird, i don't care if she's kira's spokesperson. this show has a history of treating its women weirdly and i'm not gonna believe this was anything but the author being weird once again. because what even was the point of that? and then she's killed by light to destroy all evidence. i'm saying this a lot at this point but takada also deserves better. she deserved to live up to her potential.

halle linder

out of everyone, halle is treated the best and that's not saying much. she's a double agent serving as takada's bodyguard and a spy for the spk. she's also the only woman besides sayu and sachiko who survived till the end and wasn't killed off. which i just realised. out of all the women in this show, only THREE survive till the end. isn't that something? i think my only issue with halle is the lack of spotlight. which is a theme with these women.

i thought of adding sachiko but she isn't much of a character. but there you have it. i'm not sure how bad it is in other popular shonen. but death note is full of women who had potential but the author squandered it for the sole reason that they're women. and its so jarring because people can write essays on light, L, near, mello, etc. even MATSUDA had more care put into him than any of these women. which is a damn shame. these women deserve to be in a show that actually cared about them, where they can actually live up to their potential.

i don't dislike death note. it definitely has its strong points. but the treatment of its women is something i take issue with, very strongly. if the author wasn't a weirdo and a nasty misogynist i feel like these women would've been the complex characters they deserved to be.

#death note #naomi misora #misa amane #rem death note #wedy #sayu yagami #kiyomi takada #halle linder #rebecca talks

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qvrcll · 1 year ago

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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 · 6 months ago

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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.

•••

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